by Shawn Mackey
“Mind if I take a peek?”
“In a minute,” he said. “The picture is glossy. It casts its own reflection. That’s where I saw the eye.”
“Eye?”
“This one blinked. I don’t blink when I’m looking through my telescope. I would miss a whole millennium.”
“You’re are interesting one. I’ll give you that, old man. It’s hard to believe you found God in that crummy telescope. I’m not against a little make pretending here and there—who wants to let go of their inner child? Whatever you see at the other end, even if it is just some dirt, since I doubt you ever clean that thing, I’m sure you really believe it’s the eye of God.”
“It’s merely an eye. I never claimed to know the owner. I only know that it isn’t human.”
“God or a little green man. What’s the difference? It’s a mistake.”
“Look for yourself.”
“No.”
“You asked a moment ago.”
“I changed my mind.”
“I insist.”
“No.”
“I’ll look,” Beatrice said, closing the book. She put it aside and stood. “Not that I don’t believe you, Professor. I want to see it for myself.”
“Very well, my dear. I’m sure our friend will take your word, and no one will think twice to question his courage.”
Beatrice looked into the telescope. The Professor and I watched her look for quite some time, the former rubbing his sweaty palms with a wide smile and the latter patiently waiting. This man crossed the fine line of fooling himself and convincing himself. I wasn’t as keen as Beatrice on perpetuating his lie—which was strange, considering I’d usually immerse myself in such outlandish fabrications, as though I’d find something scraping the bottom of the barrel of madness. This time was different. Once again, I wondered about Beatrice’s thoughts. Was she beginning to grow comfortable in this environment? Was I grooming my replacement?
“Congratulations, Professor,” Beatrice said, moving away from the telescope. He tilted his head in confusion. “I saw the eye. Unlike you, I blinked. So did she. Then I blinked twice, and so did she. I did it a few more times. When I blinked once and thought the words ‘maybe it’s really is a reflection,’ she blinked twice. So not only is she watching you, but she’s also reading your thoughts.”
“Excellent!” the Professor squealed, returning to the telescope.
“She and I need to talk in private, doc. Don’t have too much fun without us,” I said, taking Beatrice by the arm and going outside. “What did you see?”
“Same as I said.”
“So the mad scientist is a poor schizoid.”
“No,” she said, sighing and turning away from me, muttering something incoherent before continuing: “It’s real.”
“Nothing outside of us and him are real. How many times—”
“Listen to me,” she said, frantically seizing me by the shoulders. Her hands were trembling. “You keep telling me that these people are real and those people aren’t. I don’t see it, but I do see this. Whatever I saw in that telescope is very real!”
“How can you tell?”
“A feeling. The same as you.”
“Beatrice—”
“Stop calling me that! It’s not my name.”
“Calm down. Remember, we’re a team. When you’re in trouble, I’m in trouble. When you’re upset, I’m upset. When I’m in trouble and upset, I like to know why.”
“Sorry for yelling,” she said, leaning against the outside observatory and sitting down. Her weary eyes closed, and for a second, I thought she was going to doze off. “Do you ever hear voices in your head?”
“No.”
“Before we move to the next place, you don’t hear anything?”
“Just darkness.”
“Well, I’ve been hearing voices since we met.”
“That’s unsettling.”
“It wasn’t at first. They were comforting. ‘Come home. Come home. Come home.’ I thought I was hearing friends or family calling to me. When they stopped, I kind of just forgot about them. It’s brief, only a few seconds, anyway. Plenty of other crazy things to worry about. How’s this any different? Last time, they sound panicked. ‘Please. Please. Come home. Come home. Please.’ It sounds like they’re screaming and banging against a wall. Like I said, it’s only for a moment, but even so, it’s frightening.”
“Do the voices sound familiar?”
“No, it’s distorted like they’re underwater.”
“Let’s hope we never run into the owners.”
“I think I did.”
“I wish you didn’t just say that.”
“I’m positive. You have your problem and it looks like I have mine.”
“Don’t tell me you believe the nutty professor’s tall tales.”
“It’s just his way of coping with the things he’s seen. The reality is probably more bizarre. The same thing watching him is the same thing watching me. I only wish I could share his enthusiasm. I’m scared.”
“I understand your fear, but it doesn’t seem like any imminent danger. You’re being watched. So what?”
“Because somebody out there wants to hurt me and I don’t know why.”
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that never happens. You need to watch your own back. Don’t go jumping into danger. Looking into a telescope may seem harmless, but it was as reckless as jumping into a monster’s mouth. If you die from your own stupidity, I’m going to have to live with that for a long time.”
“I didn’t know you worried about me, Michael.”
“Of course, Beatrice. Or is that too familiar?”
“You can call me whatever your heart desires. It’s all music to my ears.”
“That’s cute,” I said, extending my hand. She took it. “Back to the real world. We have work to do.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, getting up.
“Smashing that telescope in two is tempting. Maybe something less drastic will suffice. As long as it ends with our friend acquiring distaste for stargazing.”
The Professor was no longer looking through the telescope. His eyes were fixed on the expanding spiral outside, now large enough to encompass the entire sky. My eyes no longer burned when I looked directly at the light. Beatrice was also transfixed by the growth. I knew better than to let my awe get the best of me. I kicked at one of the telescope’s tripod legs until the stand toppled over, shattering the viewing lens. The Professor wasn’t fazed.
A white explosion swallowed up the sky and everything below, leaving me temporarily inflicted by this pale blindness. As my vision gradually returned, all but the sky remained unchanged. Instead of the blanketed darkness and specks of stars, it was a sandy brown, with words etched across the sky. I recognized the Professor’s handwriting, sloppy but coherent. Its author seemed to also notice. He whimpered, digging his fingers into his cottony hair. Beads of sweat trickled from his scalp down to his forehead.
“Impossible,” he said.
“You see this in your stupid telescope?”
“What is it?” he asked, then realized the redundancy of his question: “It’s my writing. That doesn’t explain—” He cut himself off with a shout: “Who are you? Why are you doing this? Answer me!”
The old man ran outside. Beatrice had her hands over her mouth, gazing at the sky unblinkingly. I rushed through the door and caught up to the Professor before he could go tumbling down the hill. I dragged him back inside without a struggle.
“Stay calm. You too, Beatrice. So what if the sky’s a big piece of paper? What can it do to you?” I said. I wasn’t getting through to her. “Beatrice! What can it do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Exactly. Now start getting—”
We were simultaneously lifted into the air as the sky opened up from the left, and with a tremendous whoosh of air and the sound of a turning page, we dropped. A hand reached down, fingers spread and palm r
eady to squash us. Beatrice was screaming so loud, I couldn’t process the bizarre sight. Her distress communicated a danger beyond mortal terror, as though this hand was capable of something far worse than dealing a swift death by flattening.
The fingers crashed into the ground, their tips sinking into the hill. The ground shook as the hand clenched, the palm slowly enclosing us. The fingers ripped through the hillside, tearing the top, along with the entire observatory, and clamping us tightly inside the fist. We were once again raised into the air, this time at an incredible speed. Fortunately, the observatory was still intact. I held onto one of the windowsills. A small crack between the index and middle finger revealed the ground below as a mere speck through a patch of clouds.
And through the cracks in the ground, between the tips of those same two fingers, I saw the forearm belonging to the hand stretch across the vast darkness of outer space. It cut off at the elbow in an even darker recess. The planet was no larger than a marble, and in the next instant, merely a blue dot. We were headed for another dot, this one yellow and quickly growing. The hand seemed to be moving us in one fluid motion.
Two hands clasped my ankle. I peered over my shoulder, expecting to see Beatrice, instead finding the Professor laying on his belly, his lips moving rapidly as if in some frantic prayer. Beatrice was holding onto the opposite windowsill, her eyes closed, chest heaving in huge gulps of air.
In the span of a minute, we were hoisted from Earth and carried to the next planet. As we entered the atmosphere, the ground beneath our feet disappeared. The windowsill crumbled, sending me sliding backward onto of the Professor. We were encased in a ball of debris, falling from the sky. Our transportation had disappeared, leaving us to plummet into the green waters below. The emerald waves were closing in, and we had nothing to grab onto for protection. Beatrice screeched as we sank into the foreign depths.
-
Though I had no problems breathing during our brief sojourn in outer space, warm water poured into my nose and dripped into my lungs. Even after the deep plunge, I saw the yellow tint of the surface. I started paddling, but my leg was caught on something. I reached toward my ankle and felt the Professor’s smooth head, which was mildly irritating but somewhat relieving. At least I knew he was nearby. I couldn’t find a sign of Beatrice.
The Professor clung to my waist as I swam us to the surface. After taking a deep breath, I went back down to search for Beatrice. The debris had already sunk beyond my line of sight, and my companion possibly with it.
“Can you swim?” I asked the Professor. He shook his head. “Then we’re in trouble.”
Nothing but green water for miles, the sky a vast stretch of topaz—probably a beautiful sight by boat. Too bad my limbs were already getting tired. I went under one more time. No Beatrice. I paddled across the emerald sea with the portly professor clinging to my shoulders, but it didn’t feel right to leave without my partner.
“Does this place look familiar?” I asked.
“Cytherean. There’s no doubt in my mind. This is a Cytherean sea.”
“That’s good to know. How do we get out of it?”
“Swim?”
Something bumped into my leg. I immediately reached into the water, hoping to grab onto Beatrice. It was already gone. The Professor slapped me in the head, shouting so loud into my ear I wanted to drown him. Through the green waves, a blue object darted in front of me, turned to the side, and then bashed into me again. It continued to circle us, occasionally battering my side and weaving away before I could strike it back. I refused to suffer through its little game. If it wanted a meal, all it had to do was pull us under.
I managed to smack it across the back. The creature’s head emerged with a shrill bark, too quick to get a decent view. The side of its face and its almost human-like chin was a pale white. I wasn’t looking for a grotesque showcase; I just wanted to see if it had teeth.
My hands clasped at its sleek flesh. This time it let out a coo, with a tinge of an annoyed whine. It rammed into my stomach so hard, the Professor lost his grip. He snatched my side, nearly taking me down with him.
“This thing is starting to piss me off. Got an idea?”
“Try swimming away,” the Professor said, coughing up water.
I made it a few feet before it collided into the Professor’s back. He slipped again, carried off by one of the waves. I grabbed hold of his wrist as he started sinking. I pulled him back toward me and raised my knee up to my chest just in time to block the creature’s next blow. The collision sent me tumbling back under, but I maintained my grip on the Professor, though it probably dislocated his hand. Pitiful screeching erupted from the waters as the creature flipped onto its back and flailed around. When the Professor got back onto my shoulders, I latched onto its tail, ready to pummel my tormentor with the little strength I had left after its barrage.
The panic that seized the creature instilled some kind of supernatural vigor. We were gliding across the sea at a speed that seemed impossible, given the slight size of our transportation. The creature was smaller than both of us, yet it effortlessly carried us faster than a motorized boat. Strangest of all, I had a firm grip on its tail. What was propelling us?
The Professor breathed a sigh of relief when a land mass came into view. I couldn’t help worrying about Beatrice. We had traveled quite a distance from our initial landing. The chances of her escaping the falling debris were extremely low.
As the island’s shore came closer and the water shallower, the creature slowed, coming to an abrupt stop shortly after my feet rubbed against solid ground. The moment I released its tail, it struck me in the stomach, letting loose a series of yelps resembling laughter. The Professor let go, only to get knocked onto his back by the rough tide. With a nudge from our benefactor, I got him back onto his feet. I caught a glimpse of the creature’s face. It had two big blue eyes and fat, wrinkly cheeks. Before scurrying back into the ocean, it spread its lips, revealing a mouthful of flat teeth.
“A smiling fish,” the Professor said as we trudged onto the shore. “A Cytherean delicacy.”
“Ugliest smile I’ve ever seen. Not complaining though. I’m awfully grateful to the guy,” I said. The second my feet touched dry sand, I sat down. Still too weary, I sprawled out and looked up at the yellow sky. “Did you see any sign of Beatrice back there?”
“No,” the Professor said solemnly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t count her out. Survival’s slim, but remember how we got here.”
“Could I forget? Yes, as long as you hold hope, so will I. I’m in your debt, friend.”
“Just learn to swim,” I said, propping myself up on an elbow. A jungle lay behind the sandy beach, vegetation so thick it blocked anything beyond the forefront. “Any idea what we’ll find there?”
“Cythereans, no doubt. I can’t say anything else for sure.”
“Plenty of monsters,” I grumbled, standing. I brushed off some of the sand. “I hate idling. Stay close and keep your eyes open.”
A few strides into the jungle and I could already tell something was off. Fuzzy brown vines coiled around the thick tree trunks, bundles of red berries hanging from their tips. A long crack ran down the bark, as though someone had taken the time to cut a perfectly symmetrical line on each tree.
“These aren’t manmade,” I said, running my finger down one of these cracks.
“I don’t know anything about them,” the Professor said. “And I’d keep my hands far away.”
We trudged along through the endless rows of trees. The only difference between any of the rows was the fruits; some were more engorged and dripping a pink juice. I was tempted to taste one, thinking it’d probably be the sweetest poison in nonexistence, though I bet it came with prolonged agony and belated death. They were perfectly intact, so the wildlife either knew better or had long departed. So far, we hadn’t seen a trace of anything besides trees. I would’ve expected insects at the very least.
One of the vines moved.
Just a small rustle. We had been out there for quite a while, so a hallucination wasn’t out of the ordinary. I heard a few other rustles, some nearby and some in the distance. The sound was akin to a horde of insects coming to life in quick and scattered bursts. Within seconds, they were all moving.
A trunk’s bark parted, revealing a thin pink membrane that pulsed and throbbed. Like blind hands, the vine tips hovered around the entrance of this membrane, which parted to reveal a dark hole. Most stuffed the berries into the tree’s mouth, while a few poked and prodded around. I felt one of the fuzzy vines rub against my elbow. That tree’s membrane swelled and parted even wider, emitting a suction sound and clear juices. This bizarre feeding occurred in all the trees surrounding us, creating a chittering cacophony that bore through my skull, even after I plugged my fingers into my ears.
The Professor sensed danger, and if he hadn’t tackled me to the ground, I would have lost an arm. A white head popped out of the tree’s mouth, gnawing its teeth at the air with a high-pitched yip. Its face was skeletal, though it had the texture of tree bark rather than bone. Black seed clusters bugled from its eye sockets, dripping more of that clear juice.
I huddled in the fetal position as the jungle filled with the dreadful crack of teeth against teeth. The monstrous trees were simultaneously alerted to our presence and most likely all craved the taste of flesh. Their vines hung stupidly, while the trees’ faces protruded as much as their tiny necks allowed. Though we were safe, I knew their yipping would haunt me for the foreseeable future.
We lay there for quite a while. The heads started to retract into the trees, which sealed their bark. The vines recoiled around the trunks, and like a freakish yet brief nightmare, the jungle returned to normal.
“I’m beginning to wish I had stayed home,” the Professor said. “Not that we had much of a choice in the matter. Though, if I had been given the choice, I would have taken it.”
“Sorry for busting your telescope. Stick to that from now on.”
