Wiklow

by Moira Murphy

  Tessa readjusted the blanket on her shoulders as the wind became even stronger. “We should get going!” she shouted down to Sullivan. He started swimming towards the edge, and Tessa turned to begin her descent. She picked up the book and placed it in the picnic basket, along with the miscellaneous food items left over from their lunch. She picked up the empty brown beer bottles, then to the spruce tree to collect the pants and shirts spread out among the branches. She yanked her white tank top down from a high branch and pulled it over her head.

  “Guys?” She heard Sullivan shout below.

  “What?” She yelled as she grabbed the last sock off the tree. In its absence she noticed a carving.

  “Tessa!” Sullivan’s voice became frantic. She squinted at the carving. One word. About an inch in thickness, with an arrow pointing down.

  WIKLOW

  “Tessa! They aren’t coming up!” Sullivan wailed. “Help!” Tessa’s stomach dropped violently and she turned, dropping the picnic basket. She ran down the gravel trail, her feet being sliced by the jagged rocks; drawing blood. When she reached the bottom the water was still. There was no sign of movement.

  “Niko! Tucker?” she shouted. “Tucker!” she stripped herself of the blanket and waded into the water; her thighs prickling at the cold water. Sullivan waded in behind her.

  “Tucker! Niko!” he yelled.

  Still no movement; not a bubble or a ripple.

  Tessa dove into the water shouting, “Call 911!”

  Sullivan ran for his phone in the sand. He fumbled with the screen.“There’s no signal! There’s no freaking signal!”

  Tessa swam to the bottom of the river, feeling the current sway her. She saw nothing but weeds and rock. When she came up for air, she was thirty feet further down river. The current was powerful.

  “There’s no signal!” Sullivan ran alongside the river.

  “Tucker! Niko! Oh, my God.” Tessa scrambled to the shore.

  “Niko! Tucker!” Sullivan stumbled to the top of the cliff for a better view. The water was clear, he could see a mile downstream. There was no sight of the boys.

  “What do we do? What do we do?” Tessa cried.

  “We need to call the police,” he called down. “C’mon, the rest of the phones are up here. Maybe we can get a signal.” Tessa slowly made her way to her feet, shaking. At the top of the cliff, she sat near the picnic basket and pulled at the dead grass between her legs. Sullivan pulled the phone from Niko’s pants and glided his finger across the screen, he paused slightly before cursing under his breath and tossing it to the side. Next, he found Tucker’s pants and phone, and again he cursed under his breath.

  “Where’s your phone?” He asked.

  “Do you see the tree?” she replied.

  “Tessa, where is your phone?” He stroked her left arm, worried she may be in shock.

  “It has an arrow on it.”

  “Oh, God. I’m going to go for help. But, first I need you to tell me where your phone is.”

  “It says Wiklow with an arrow. Did we write that? Who would write that, I mean, it had to be us that carved it,” she mumbled.

  “Tessa, please.”

  “I mean, it’s gotta mean something. Her stuff was here… and the book.”

  “Where is it?” Sullivan rifled through the picnic basket.

  “You fell in the water, because she wanted you in the water. She wrote the book. The water. Did we swim here when we were younger?” She looked up at Sullivan. “There’s something in the book. I saw it earlier.” She moved his hands from the basket. Flinging the book open, and flipping through the pages. “Here, Here.”

  She shoved the book to his lap and pointed repeatedly. On the page were five simple lines,

  Cami was first to go

  Sully went with the flow

  Then Tessa and Tuck

  And Niko with luck

  By water way to Wiklow

  To the right of the limerick in red ink was Cami’s handwriting again, JUMP. Tessa pointed rapidly at the red ink. “It says ‘JUMP’, Sully.”

  “And? What?”

  “Cami is gone… from here. They are gone. The arrow. The book… Cami.”

  “I don’t even know what you are trying to say. We need to call the police. Now.”

  “We came here as kids. And we jumped off a million times. Nothing bad ever happened.”

  “The only time I jumped in that water was when Cami pushed me.”

  “No, No, No. We jumped... all the time.”

  “I don’t remember that.” Sullivan shook his head, returning to the picnic basket in search of the phone.

  “Don’t you?” She turned to look in his eyes, “Don’t you? All of us would come up here and play all day. Cami would bring the book and write in it at the end of the day, and read it to us.”

  “I remember that, but not the jumping.”

  “Until high school. We all got busy and stopped coming here. But, before that we use to come here as soon as the weather was warm.”

  “Okay, so say that’s true. What are you saying?” He put on his white undershirt.

  “We need to jump.”

  “What?!” He looked away from the picnic basket.

  “Yes.” She stood up. “We should jump.”

  “Are you crazy? Did you hit your head? Did you see them jump? They are gone. Dead, probably.”

  “Don’t say that.” She walked to the spruce tree, and ran her hands over the arrow. “Wiklow. Follow me. Jump. Cami is telling us to follow her… by jumping.”

  “This is the beer talking. We are not going to jump off a cliff where three people have now DIED. Give me your phone.” He flung his hand out, convinced she had lost it and was now holding the phone hostage.

  “My paintings,” she thought aloud. “Everything. I get it. It makes sense.” She walked hastily toward the edge of the cliff. “Wiklow is… real. We didn’t make it up… we lived it. I’m doing it.”

  “Stop it. Sit down. You have a concussion and you’re drunk.” He tried to push her into a sitting position. Sullivan saw her phone in her back pocket. He pulled it out, slid his finger across its screen. It was dead; water damage. He looked up to continue his attempt at rationalizing the situation. Tessa was gone.

  “Holy hell,” he breathed, dropping the phone and sprinting to the edge, reaching it just in time to see the splash. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What do I do?”

  He checked all the phones again, shaking them violently. “Please. Please. Please.”

  There was nothing for miles in the Pennsylvania woods. No houses or people, and no cell phone signal. The group had hiked up to the cliff, meaning there was no car, either. He clung to the edge of the cliff with his toes.

  “Tessa?” he shouted, praying that he’d see her multicolored hair pop up from under the surface. The water was still. The woods were silent; his heart was not. It pounded in his ears and his head felt like a balloon filled with helium.

  “Tessa?” he said quietly. He noticed the book open in the grass to a page with all red writing. He bent over and scooped up the book. He squinted and drew his face closer.

  I knew it would be you, Sully.

  Just trust me.

  Follow me. Jump.

  “What is happening?” Sullivan said aloud. He stared at the book; he looked down in the water, and back at the book. He checked the phones again. He had no idea what to do. His friends had all just hypothetically jumped to their deaths or into a magical land from their childhood. He had no car and no help and no way to fix this by himself. How was he going to explain to the police and his friends’ families that he was the only survivor of all of his friends jumping to their deaths at the instruction of a book they made when they were eight?

  He tossed his head back, “This is crazy.” He took the book and tucked it under his shirt.

  He took a deep breath, jumped up and down a few times.

  “This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy,” he screamed as he took a ru
nning jump off the cliff.

  Chapter 3

  Everything was black. Tessa felt around herself blindly, feeling jagged rock all around her; about four feet in diameter. Her legs felt cold under the four feet of water lapping at her chest. Was the water rising? Were the walls closing towards her? Her breath became ragged.

  “Hello?” she whispered, the water was much colder than that of the river. The air around her was much more stale than that of Riverport. It felt old; like the attic at her grandparent’s house.

  “Hello?” she felt the wall directly in front of her body, moving in a circle. She had to get out of here. Just as she looked up to see light, she felt something metal. It was a long horizontal metal bar, there was another above that, and another above that one. “Hello?” she shouted as she desperately scrambled up the ladder. No answer. “Is anyone there?” The exit to what seemed to be a well was about thirty feet up. She threw her body over the edge of the stone wall. She was in a small one room shed. Wooden planks shown sunshine through its slats. Her wet shoes plopped onto the sand floor, her eyes became acquainted to the light. A worn brown leather couch and a desk were the only contents of the room.

  She rung her hair out; water accumulated in a small puddle in the sand. The walls were swollen and coated in a dry layer of something that looked like algae. She became aware of a door in the corner, desperate to see sunlight, she ran to it. Before she could open it, she noticed another limerick in red writing,

  So glad you could unwind

  The clues I left behind

  Just please do not tell

  Of this shack or the well

  This place He mustn’t find

  “I was right,” she said to herself, dragging her fingers over the ink. She heard a squeal and a splash come from the bottom of the well.

  “Hello?” Sully’s meek voice echoed up. “Hello?” he asked a bit louder.

  “Sully?” she leaned over the rock well.

  “Tessa?” He asked, feeling relieved. “Are you okay?” He climbed the ladder.

  “Well, I think….” she started.

  “You jumped off a cliff, Tessa! What the hell?” Sullivan quickly became angered after he realized she was in good condition.

  “Well, I was right,” she said, helping him onto the sand.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions.” He shook his hair.

  “What else is there to jump to? We jumped into a river and here we are…” Tessa opened her hands.

  “Let’s get all the information before we….” Sullivan walked to the door. “Before we come to a conclusion.” The door was on a rail and heavier than Sully expected, he slid it out of the way.

  The light outside was blinding. Sully and Tessa both shielded their faces waiting for their eyes to adjust. Slowly, they saw the shed was surrounded by sand, with huge walls all around them; a crater the size of a city. The air was hot and dry. Tessa took the first step through the doorway.

  “Woah,” Sullivan gasped.

  “I know,” she replied.

  “No… you’re dry.” He pointed at her hair.

  “What?” She looked down at her waterless shorts and tank top.

  “Woah,” she said. Sully stepped through the door for a closer look. He too, became dry.

  “What?” Sully patted his white t-shirt. He hopped back into the shed, where immediately his clothes became weighted with water. He stepped back out and was dry. Wet. Dry. Wet. Dry. Sully stepped back from the doorway, he looked up at the structure in which the well was hidden. It was large, red, and terribly dilapidated. It had multiple metal bars placed sporadically about it and a tin roof. It was an old boxcar, part of a working train at some point. However, the barnacles and sea crustaceans proved it hadn’t been of use in sometime. On the door frame a dried starfish held on by a crispy tentacle.

  “Uh… Sully?”

  “Yeah?” He patted his dry shirt again, wondering why there would be water borne objects stuck on a box car in the middle of a desert.

  “Am I seeing things?” She squinted at the sky.

  “What do you mean?” He put his hand to his forehead and followed her gaze. In the cloudless blue sky, he saw the sun shining brightly. It looked a bit larger than usual. But, that was not the startling anomaly to which Tessa was referring. To the right of the sun, was another sun; quite small. And above those two was another; the smallest of the three. Three suns. Three suns making a triangle above the horizon. Sullivan had no words, and stood staring up, hands at his sides, mouth open.

  “What does that mean?” Tessa stared at him in disbelief.

  “I don’t think we’re in Riverport anymore, ” Sullivan said. Tessa spun around, searching for any sign of help or direction. She ran her hand through her hair and exhaled loudly.

  “Okay…Okay… How far could Tuck and Niko have gotten?” she asked.

  “Not very,” he answered, still gazing at the sky.

  “Sully… we gotta do something. We need to go somewhere.” Just then, Sully remembered the book that had tucked under his shirt. He walked back into the shed, feeling the water soak his clothes as he passed through the doorway. He swung his leg back over the stone wall and searched for the ladder with his foot. “Sully? Sully! Don’t leave me!” Tessa shouted, as the water drenched her hair through the doorway.

  “I’m not. Just wait.” He climbed down thirty feet to the water. Tessa heard him splashing around in the water. “Got it!” He dragged the book up the ladder and slapped it onto the stones. After heaving his legs over the edge, he opened it.

  “Oh no.” He rapidly flipped through the pages. The ink was dripping from every page. “No. The map is in here. If this is Wiklow, this is our saving grace.”

  “Oh, now you believe in Wiklow,” she mocked.

  “There are three suns in the sky, Tessa. I don’t know what is real. The tooth fairy could be real.” He blew on the paper, a feeble attempt to dry the book. Tessa rolled her eyes, snatched the book, and took it outside. She sat in the sand, just as Sully joined her.

  “Here we go,” she said, opening the now dry book to the map. They both scanned the page for any clues. Sully’s eyes locked onto a very small red ‘x’ in the bottom left corner of the map.

  “There.” He pointed. “But, that can’t be right.” He sat up.

  “Why not?”

  “Because that means we are in the middle of a lake.” Tessa looked at the map to see that, yes, the red ‘x’ was in the middle of a small lake. “This is ridiculous. We are taking advice from a book we wrote when we were kids.”

  “You just said you believed it.”

  “No, I said I didn’t know what to believe.” He walked back to the shed. “We are either dead or... in Wiklow.” He went to the desk and flung its drawers open angrily. Looking for anything and nothing. He pulled out a hunter green book bag, a few sodas, and a sleeve of crackers. Tessa copied down the limerick from the door into the book with the red marker, then handed the book to Sullivan to place in the bag. He flung the pack over his shoulder, and without a word he began walking.

  “Where are you going?” Tessa ran after him.

  “I don’t know,” he said, confidently.

  The sand was littered with the skeletons of fish and other sea creatures. Every few steps, they would hear one crunch beneath their shoes. The suns were to their back; the heat was close to unbearable. Tessa had put her hair into a ponytail, causing her neck to sweat from the direct sunlight. Sullivan had taken off his shirt and put it in the bag, covering the book. Their throats were dry by the time they reached the edge of the used-to-be lake.

  “I’m dying of thirst, it’s so hot!” Tessa wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Can I have one of those sodas?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “What? I’m thirsty!” she pleaded.

  “We have no idea how long we’ll be here. Or where we are even going.”

  “Well, look at the map, clearly this is or was a lake,” she said, kicking a fish carcass.


  “I’m beginning to believe we died and this is hell.”

  “I don’t believe that. We aren’t dead. It feels… good here.”

  “I’m a reasonable man, I use logic. I’m educated. All this is impossible. It’s not real.”

  “It is real. We are in it. Give me the book!” she demanded, grabbing the bag from his shoulder. He did not fight her, he was too exhausted; mentally and physically. “Okay, so it says this used to be Siegly Lake. That means that…”she scanned the map, “On the other side of this beach is going to be Blackwood Forest. So… let’s just see okay?”

  “Great. Let’s continue on to Oz after that then.” He crossed his arms. “Look, there is no See-glee lake and no Blackwood Forest,” he sneered, snatching the book from her hands and shoving it violently back into the bag. They continued up the steep sandy beach, Sullivan assisting Tessa on the more difficult paths. After one last heave over a few rocks, they came to the end of the empty cavern. Atop it, hundreds upon hundreds of trees. Some ninety feet tall, some taller. All types of trees; oak, pine, willow, apple. So many they created a tent over the ground.

  Hundreds of trees, all dead.

  Their pale branches next to the dead grass created a grey fog next to the blue sky. Just in front of these trees was a wooden sign with a carving in big block letters, ‘BLACKWOOD FOREST’.

  “Don’t,” Sullivan said, putting his hand up. He continued past the wooden sign. “Just don’t.”