by Rob Heinze
“What?” The Mesha asked, annoyed that Henry stood there gaping at her nudity.
“I, ah, I—”
He took a deep breath and seemed to steady himself.
“—I saw people sneaking out. I think they were sneaking out.”
The Mesha sat up. “Where?”
“The back entrance. The one you set Joe and me to guard.”
“Okay,” The Mesha said, slightly puzzled. “Did you stop them and ask where they were going?”
“Ah, well…”
“Why not?”
“You see—”
It was no good; she would know about Joe and his quest to tap a keg of ass. Yes, she would know, and why the hell did he, Joe, have to choose tonight of all nights?
“I was alone.”
“Where was Joe?”
He was silent.
“Not with you?”
He shook his head.
“Why?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Why?” She pressed.
“He was…he was with…someone. But he was supposed to come back as soon as he was done, and besides, how many times have we been there and nothing, nothing happens all night?”
“Stop.”
He did.
“Who were they?”
“I saw a kid. I-I think it was Sam.”
Now she sat up. She remembered the way Charley had turned her down, turned her down because he had some little slut back in the real world with whom he was in love. She had been in love once too with a man by the name of Mr. Tartano, and where had that gotten her? She remembered earlier that night, the taste of Eve, the feel of her.
“Who was he with?”
She thought that she already knew.
“I don’t know, exactly, but there were two other people.”
She didn’t need to hear anymore. She was out of bed and moving, her endowed body swaying with each fast motion. She was in her red dress instantly. She never wore anything save for that dress and her sneakers.
Peter was looking at her in confusion. “Where are you going?”
“To catch our new guests. And you’re coming with me.”
Peter, nodding, lumbered out of bed and began to dress. The Mesha was gone from the room, her sneakers squeaking as they moved off down the hall. Peter wasn’t long to follow. Henry was left alone in the room like a forgotten child. He stood there, in no rush, and smelled the scent of The Mesha’s sexual escapade; it hung in the air like traces of a spent cigarette. At that point, he figured he’d take his pleasures where he could.
6
They reached the road. The hard top was flat, dark, and empty. They walked it. They walked for a long time. They walked until the sky began to lighten, turning the chilly night into a chilly gray dawn. They walked on despite blisters and exhaustion. They didn’t think it was a good idea to stop, though they truly wanted to.
“Something happened to that woman,” Charley said, walking tiredly forward.
“Who?” Eve asked.
“The Mesha.”
Eve felt a strange tingle in her body, and a sad sense of regret.
“I feel like I’ve been in this no-world forever,” Charley said.
“I know what you mean,” Eve added.
Sam was ahead of them, silent. The conversation died, for they were trying to save whatever waning wind they had left. They thought.
Eve thought about home, her mom, her friends in school. If she went back, would she still be the same person? Would I still be a non-virgin? Will I be scarred from this? She thought that people in comas, when they awoke, could remember nothing. Would that happen to her? She hoped so; she didn’t want to remember any of this (except maybe that pleasure, that warm pleasure from The Mesha). Most of all she wanted to forget about John.
Sam thought about his mother. She would probably be sober for only an hour a day, and she would likely still fall prey to that odd race of non-men. What non-man might be there now? Sam didn’t know, didn’t care. He didn’t want to remember her like that; he wanted to remember her as she lovingly brought him a grilled cheese sandwich. He felt really good about that, so good that a long smile stretched across his face. He hadn’t had grilled cheese in ages.
Charley…he thought about Sarah—
But there was a problem for Charley; his images of Sarah had faded, had gone thin like a spider web in heavy rain. The image of his love was a blur, a poorly cross-hatched rendition of the woman he had once known, once loved. I still love her. It’s the reason I’m still here, still walking. I just…I need to see her. He tried hard to remember the delicate lines of her face, the wavy brown flow of her hair. He found himself remembering the black man’s face in front of that abandoned house. Jonathan Jones, that’s my name! He saw the hate and pain etched there in the lines of his face, saw the impeding fate that waited for him in those eyes, and what would have happened if he had just given the bum his empty wallet? Would any of this have happened?
Absurdly, impossibly, he hoped that the bum, Jonathan Jones, was okay.
Soon, walking became distant, and they moved unwittingly. The sun breeched the horizon in the east, giving the no-world its first, faint traces of yellow dawn light. They barely noticed. They were each so deep in thought that it might as well have been night. None of them knew that they were being pursued. Had they known, they might have gone a little faster.
7
The Mesha and her people were on the road. They had weapons: knives, bats, clubs, anything that might be effective. The Mesha suspected that they, the three deserters, wouldn’t take to the woods any longer than they had to. She suspected that they were heading to the place where Those of the Light and Dark go to do battle. And she knew that Sam knew how to get there.
The place always gave her chills, and she wasn’t looking forward to going there. She hoped she could reach them before that point.
“We’ll catch them before that,” she whispered.
She imagined them standing on the brink of the bridge, their faces glowing mysteriously in the red light. She thought of them crossing the bridge, arms held out for balance, mere feet from retreat and salvation.
“Faster,” she commanded.
She moved quicker, her dress shifting up so that she could move more easily. Her ass was visible to those who followed behind, but there wasn’t a person there who had not seen it before. It was still an incentive for them to keep up, but a passion had come over The Mesha that the others couldn’t replicate.
They began to slowly fall behind.
The Mesha did not notice.
8
The day felt as if it had lasted for a week. By midday, their feet had broken into sores, and they could feel the wet stickiness of burst blisters.
“We should stop,” Eve breathed.
All three of them moved forward like ghouls, bent over, their motion only a series of lurches that took a gargantuan amount of effort. Charley found himself remembering a book by Stephen King he’d read once called The Long Walk. It had been about a TV show competition where young boys walked something like 450 miles straight, and if you fell below a certain pace—boom!—you got shot. That was pretty close to their reality, even without the knowledge of their being pursued.
We should stop. No one’s following us. We would have seen them. But we can’t stop. It’s too much of a risk.
Charley wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Sam mumbling that song All-Star by Smash Mouth. Whatever. What the fuck ever. He just wanted to rest. His eyes wanted to close, but his legs were mutinous; they kept pulling him forward. He wondered how hard it would be to actually stop his legs—probably like stopping a freight train.
“We should stop,” Eve repeated.
“We can’t,” Charley breathed.
Eve was next to him, her face haggard and white. He wondered when the last time she’d drunk water. He wondered when something cool had last touched his lips. His mouth felt parched, his tongue three times too big.
&n
bsp; “Sam,” he yelled, his voice hoarse.
Sam turned around hazily. His eyes were glassed over, as if he were drunk. “What?”
“Any water around?”
“Don’t know,” Sam said.
“I’m dying,” Eve muttered. Each step was torturous.
A little further, Charley thought. Then we’ll stop. We’ll have to.
The lasted for another half an hour. Eve staggered and fell. Charley tried to stop, but found that his initial thought had been right: it was incredibly difficult to stop his legs. He finally did, and by that time Sam had stumbled over to Eve. She propped herself up on her elbows, her face white.
“I’m sorry,” she huffed. “Help me up.”
“We have to rest,” Charley said, falling down next to her. His legs were on fire.
“We’ll rest for an hour or so,” he said, eyes closed.
He got no response, but he knew that they had heard him.
9
The Mesha and her crew had brought water. And food. They didn’t stop once. They marched forward. The Mesha’s sneakers fit snugly and not a single blister marred her foot. The others—she didn’t care. They would follow her to their deaths.
I don’t want to go into that place, she thought.
They walked for another couple of hours, and around noon, she stopped dead in the road, her legs doing so without a complaint. Everyone who had been following her stopped too. Peter, her constant lover, came up besides her.
“What is it?” He asked.
She said nothing. A light smile crept onto her face. Peter, confused, looked off down the road. His eyebrows rose. He could see figures ahead on the road.
“We got them,” he whispered. His passion grew, and he turned to the others. “We caught them!”
The crowd began to cheer. Their bloodlust grew, taking over there fatigue. Now The Mesha thought they’d run, for she knew that she would.
Smiling, The Mesha led them into a slow trot as if she were leading an army out into the battlefield.
10
They heard the crowd cheer, and terror flooded their numbed minds. Charley, wide-eyed, glanced back down the road. At first there was nothing but the empty road, hugged on both sides by open meadows. Windless, the day seemed as if it were holding its breath. He was about to pass the noise off as imagination—the way he had once passed a noise in an abandoned house off as imagination—when he saw the heads coming up over the horizon.
“They’re following us!”
There was no need to tell Sam and Eve, for they had already spotted the pursuers. They were on their feet, fatigue forgotten, and they were looking frantically at Charley.
He turned and started to run. The pavement was hard, and each time his foot hit the pavement, a sharp flash of pain shot up to his spine. He pushed on, glancing over his shoulder at the resolving crowd.
This can’t be happening, he thought.
Not when I was so close to you, Sarah. Help me, please. If you’re there, help me.
He didn’t think she heard him.
11
Eve glanced behind them and saw The Mesha’s face. The Mesha had gained, and they were running as fast as their tired bodies could carry them.
“How much farther?” She panted.
“Not much!” Sam answered.
He was holding his side, trying to battle a stitch that was forming there; it had actually been growing after the first minute of jogging. He grappled with it, squeezing his side, trying to suppress that oncoming pain. It was useless; the pain just kept mounting and mounting.
Eve glanced behind them and saw The Mesha, her face beautiful and terrible. There was a light smile on it, the smile of someone who takes joy in seeing the loser slump off in defeat.
She’s insane! That fucking woman’s insane!
“We have to run!” Charley said. “They’re gaining on us!”
Eve’s mind groaned, and her body groaned worse when she actually did start to run. It was awful. Sam limped along, his movement more of a full body jerk than an actual run.
12
“Faster! Come on!” The Mesha urged.
She started to run faster, gritting her teeth. Her body was lathered with sweat. This was not the only time in her life when she wished she had a smaller bust; it bounced and annoyed her, slowed her, as she moved.
She saw Sam’s small back. She would probably spare Sam. He had been good with her, and that motherly instinct had grown fond of him. She suspected that the only reason he wanted to go home was to see his mother, about whom he had spoken. She couldn’t fault him for that.
She thought of Sam crossing the bridge, looking back at her once the way before walking into the light at the end. She found that it wasn’t a bad image. If he wanted to, she thought she’d still let him go. And maybe, just maybe she’d let Eve stick around too. She had clearly enjoyed their little rendezvous, and Eve had potential. Eve might stay. Yet even the thought of Eve walking into that glowing light wasn’t a bad one.
It was only Charley Allen, the man who had turned her down, whom she didn’t want to cross that bridge. He was the sole reason why she pursued.
Belinda, you’re beyond help, a voice said, and it was a voice with which she wasn’t unfamiliar.
“I know,” she whispered. “I knew that a long time ago.”
She ran harder.
13
The road declined, and they had to slow. Too much forward motion and they were apt to go right off their feet. Sam’s face was flushed with excitement; he knew they were close. He could feel his excitement growing; this time he would actually see it! He would actually walk into that carved-out space of rock and stand on the brink of the bridge. Would he see that distant, pinkish glow down in the chasm? God, he hoped so. And he hoped he saw Those of the Light on the other side.
The land had changed quickly. The flat land had led them directly onto mountainous terrain. Cliffs rose and fell on either side of them. Off in the distance, on their left, Charley could see miles and miles of unbroken tree tops.
God, where are we? He wondered. This couldn’t be Jersey.
Sam led them to the right side of the road. There was a jagged opening in the rock that looked natural, not man-made; its sides were sharp and tooth-like. Sam led them towards this opening and inside. Cold rock walls grew around them as the path descended. Charley and Eve could feel it now too: a distant, surreal sensation that they were closing in on something grand. It was the sound of the ocean heard blocks away; Sam was right.
Before they were too deep into the descent to see the road, Charley glanced back and saw The Mesha. Her eyes were focused on him. He knew that turning her down had been a mistake, and he knew, now, that he wouldn’t have done a single thing differently.
14
The deeper they went into the tunnel, the odder Charley started to feel. Mainly he felt the coldness of the rocks pressing down around them. He also felt strange, as if he had been to this place before. It was simple déjà vu, nothing more, and yet it was more powerful than any other déjà vu he had ever felt.
Sarah, he thought. I can see her again!
Her image was sharp and clear in his mind now—the girl for whom he had wandered this no-world. Without her, he might have never left Ray and that little house in Queens. He suddenly felt good, felt as if he could take on the world. He continued to follow Sam. The walls came in closer, making the passage tougher.
“It gets harder to maneuver from here,” Sam said. “But it’ll slow them down too.”
“How far down?”
“Not much,” Sam said.
Charley wasn’t the only one to the feel that power. Eve’s blisters felt numb, gone even, and her fatigue had melted away. This place…there was something in the air around them.
Sam stopped suddenly. The ground dipped and then leveled out ahead. He could see open space. He went slowly now, each step like walking towards someplace you’ve been waiting so badly for. He stepped out into the open. They had c
ome out on flat level of the mountain. All around them lay open space. Bright blue sky filled the space above them. It looked like a great lake lay below, swollen and gleaming in the sunlight. Sam saw the opening ahead and to the right, a deeper descent that went towards the place where Those of the Light and Dark go to do battle. This was as far as he had ever gone, and he felt his heart throbbing in his chest.
Sam turned to them, his head feeling heavy. “It’s…it’s down there. I’ve never been down that far.”
Charley smiled and nodded. It didn’t feel wrong to be here, to think about going down there. It felt right, like coming home. Eve put a soft hand on Sam’s shoulder. He glanced up at her, hazed, and smiled weakly.
“I’m not scared,” he whispered.
“Me either,” she said. She looked to Charley.
“Let’s go, then.”
They headed towards the entrance to the place about which they dreamed.
15
The Mesha moved fast in the tunnel, and it was part of the reason why things went the way they did. Her people came in behind her, single file, and it wasn’t long before she heard someone yelp and then cry out in pain. She spun around, annoyed, and saw a large man lying in the thin space between the rock walls.
“What happened?”
“My ankle! I twisted it!”
It was a heavy man named William—Bill for short—with whom she had had relations twice. His penis was terribly small, and she pitied him. He had tried but ultimately failed to pleasure her. He was generally a nice guy. Right now his face was flushed and looked pained. Peter had come up behind the man. Of course, it had to be the person in the lead who got hurt and successfully clogging up the passage.
Peter was clearly trying to maneuver around the large man. Not wanting to climb on him and hurt him further, he looked at The Mesha in desperation.
