Hellworld

by Tom Leveen

  Charlie was silent for a second before saying, “Let me poke around a little, see what I can find out. I’ll give you a call in a day or so. Maybe we can meet up.”

  “Meet up?”

  “Sure. You still in Vegas?”

  “Henderson, yeah.”

  “Well, I’m in LA. Not a bad trip. I’d really like to see Dad’s book.”

  “Shouldn’t we take it to the police? In case it’s, like, evidence or something?”

  “No!”Charlie said. “I mean, not yet. If it’s my dad’s handwriting, it’d be the first new contact I’ve had with him in a sense. You know? The cops get ahold of it, it might just disappear into evidence forever. I’d like to see it myself before then.”

  “Oh. Sure, yeah.”

  “Could you text me some photos?”

  Embarrassed, I said, “No, not exactly. My phone’s not . . . I mean, I guess I could take it to a CopyMax and have them scan it or something.”

  “No, no,”Charlie said, and my embarrassment deepened as I detected him trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. “It’s cool, we’ll just make plans to meet up soon. We should do that anyway.”

  Yes, we should, I thought, but had the sense not to say it. Instead, I opted to be honest and said, “That’s great, but we can’t meet here.”

  “Um . . . okay?”

  “I mean, at the house, because of Dad,”I said. “I don’t think it would be good for him to see you. I don’t know what it might trigger.”

  “He’s really that bad off?”Charlie said gently.

  I rubbed my eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Okay. No problem. Like I said, let me ask around a little, and I’ll get back to you soon, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Charlie.”

  “You bet. Hey, it’s good to hear from you.”

  My mood improved. “You too. Talk to you soon.”

  We ended the call and I sat back, looking up through the pine branches at the stars. Whatever else might happen, I thought, at least I talked to Charlie again. And soon, maybe I’d even actually see him.

  I didn’t think anything terrible could come from that.

  Once it got too chilly, I climbed down and went inside. I got Dr. Prinn’s book from under my pillow, opened it up, and began to read.

  Charlie called not one, not two, but three days later. Considering I’d been expecting at least a week, or possibly even no return call at all, three days was fine with me. It’s not like it was after a first date. What were the calling rules after a first date anyway? Mrs. Brower probably knew better than me.

  “So we’re going to head down there next week,”Charlie said after we’d greeted each other.

  I was sipping a Coke in the alley behind the restaurant. My big break of the shift—fifteen minutes by the trash Dumpster. “Down where?”

  “Vegas. Then the cave. If that’s still cool.”

  “No, yeah, totally. Who’s we?”

  “This is going to be fun, in a sense,”Charlie said, and I heard the smile in his voice again. “Check it out. So I got my buddy Alex, who did sound for a couple of my shorts. Short films, I mean. He’s a good guy. Crazy insane, but totally reliable. And not inconsequentially, his mom was the executive producer on the show.”

  “Marcia Trinity?”

  “Yep.”

  “She was on the shoot. At the cave.”

  “And hasn’t been seen since, just like our parents. You got it. Turns out Alex has access to an RV, so we’re going to go to that damn cave in style.”

  “So you’re really doing this. I mean, we . . . we’re really doing it?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, unless you changed your mind. Sorry, I thought you were serious about—”

  “I am. Yes. I am. I’m just surprised, is all. I didn’t think you’d be so up for it. That’s all. No, I’m in.”

  “Good. So yeah, if it’s all right with you, I thought I’d film it. Kind of a documentary, maybe turn it into a sizzle reel, pitch a show or a special.”

  I only understood about half of what he said, but I got the gist, and I didn’t like it. “You want to turn this into a TV show? After what Outasite did?”

  “What did Outasite do?”

  “Well, I mean, it’s their fault our parents are gone. Don’t you think?”

  “No . . . not really. Accidents happen. That’s not the network’s fault.”

  “But they let them go to that damn cave. . . .”

  Even as I said it, it sounded weak. Outasite hadn’t put a gun to Mom’s head. The entire film crew went willingly. Still, the thought of turning this expedition into a movie of the week made me a little nauseated.

  “No, wait, it’s not that,”I interrupted myself. “Filming the whole thing, it feels disrespectful. Or just . . . weird.”

  “I can see that,”Charlie agreed. “So, would you rather I didn’t? I’m just trying to get some kind of small benefit out of what happened, I guess. And leave a record, you know? That we didn’t forget about them.”

  His last comment struck the right chord.

  “Okay,”I said. “That’s a good point. Forget I said anything.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m just nervous. Or, excited, I mean. Something like that.”I sucked at my soda straw.

  “I get it. Hey, at worst, we catch up and take a road trip. The four of us’ll hang out. Alex could get some beers if we wanted. It’ll be a cool little—”

  “Four? Who’s the fourth?”

  “Oh, sorry. Selby. My girlfriend. Selby Lovecraft.”

  My Coke lost all its sugar. I hadn’t read anything about a girlfriend online.

  “She’s got quite a following,”Charlie went on, blissfully unaware of how my heart had just burst apart like a dust bunny. “She writes this blog on science and skepticism, and a lot of people are big fans. We can probably use it to promote the film. I mean, if we end up actually making one.”

  “Oh.”

  “So when’s good for you? Do you need a weekend, or is during the week better? We’re all free right now, so good timing. Whatever works for you.”

  “I’m pretty free.”The word “girlfriend”kept ricocheting between my ears.

  “Cool. How about we get there Thursday, and we all head out to the cave on Friday? Come back Monday?”

  I tried to imagine Dad on his own for that long. It hadn’t happened since Mom disappeared. On the other hand, he wasn’t working, so it wasn’t like we had some kind of schedule. And Arby’s could probably survive without little old me for a few days.

  “Let’s do it,”I said.

  “Awesome,”Charlie said. “I’ll let you know where we’re staying when we get to Vegas. All right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great. This was a great idea, Abby. Thanks for doing this. Sincerely.”

  “Um . . . sure.”

  “Talk to you soon.”

  We hung up. One of my coworkers poked his head out the back door and shouted at me to get back up front, we had a rush. I threw my soda away and moped inside, effortlessly putting on my happy mask to serve the public.

  I worked on autopilot as I tried to picture what Charlie’s girlfriend might be like. What the cave would look like inside. What we might or might not find.

  It was both the slowest and fastest day at work I’d ever had.

  9

  Now

  * * *

  I wake up surrounded by gray and quiet. I’m almost but not quite comfortable. It seems like hours before I can open my eyes, and even then, blinking against the haze in my vision, I can barely believe where I am.

  “Charlie . . . ?”

  Charlie pops up beside me, gasping. I yelp and shrink back. I might’ve laughed any other time at the way his hair has gone kerflooey. Slowly, I piece together my situation: I’m on the couch in the RV. Charlie had been asleep on the floor beside me. Leaning a bit, I can see one of Selby’s blue boots sticking out from the bedroom.

  So we�
�re in the RV.

  Does that mean . . .

  “Dreaming?”I ask, and barely recognize my own voice.

  Charlie runs a hand over his face . . . and shakes his head.

  I slide slowly, painfully, off the couch, feeling like every other inch of my body has a bruise. Charlie seems to already be back asleep as I kneel on the cushions and carefully pull apart the blinds over the window.

  Charlie had parked the RV about fifty yards from the cave. Or rather, what remains of the cave. Not a dream: The cliff face where we discovered the cave mouth still lies in rubble. Jagged boulders of all sizes lay strewn about the desert floor like an explosion has torn the mountain apart. The entire first chamber now lies open to the sun.

  The sun.

  Forgetting the cave for a moment, I lift my eyes to the pale blue sky and nearly lose my breath. The sun’s shining. The sun is shining.

  Humanity has forgotten what darkness is really like. We live in cities and towns with ample electricity, our kitchens lit by digital microwave clocks and ambient porch light to keep the bad guys at bay. Our streets and highways are lit every few feet by sprays of orange light. We’ve forgotten what real darkness is. And because of that, we’ve forgotten the restorative power of the sun.

  I start crying then. After the tangible darkness of the cave, all we’ve seen, all that happened . . .

  My tears dry almost as fast as they form. This thing is far from over. I go to the side door, taking care not to disturb Charlie, and step out.

  The sky isn’t blue on this side of the vehicle. It’s gray. Smoky gray patched by black, with only spots of bright blue poking through the haze.

  The desert is still on fire.

  It looks like a dust storm. The kind I’ve seen video of, rolling across Phoenix, swallowing everything in a brown wall of dirt. People die in those storms, trying to drive through them on freeways with zero visibility. Only now, instead of dust, it’s smoke. I hadn’t seen it from the other side of the van because the wind blew it away from us.

  “What the hell?”I say out loud, then suck in a breath. That turn of phrase brings our encounters in the cave back to mind in brutally vivid detail. I start shaking, and can’t stop.

  “Abby?”

  Charlie speaks from behind me, his voice full of dust. I turn to face him and say his name. He’s found a clean shirt from his bag, plain white, and has it on. He steps out of the RV and limps over to me, wrapping me in his arms while I quake against him. I don’t cry again, but I’ve never felt so miserable in all my life—some hellish combination of nausea, terror, cold, and heart attack all wrapped into one awful mental and physical torture.

  “I know,”Charlie whispers above me, though I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything. “I know.”

  “It happened,”I say, teeth chattering though it isn’t freezing outside. “It all really happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Don’t know yet. And it wasn’t just you.”

  “Everything’s on fire.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “God, Charlie.”

  “I know.”

  We don’t say anything after that. Charlie finally coaxes me back into the RV and sits me on the couch. With pain in his face, he creaks over to the fridge and brings the package of ham and a bottle of cold water for each of us. I open the bottle and drink fast, which is a bad idea as it literally hurts my head and chest. I don’t care. Nothing on earth has ever felt or tasted so good.

  We sit silently for a few minutes, drinking and gingerly nibbling on the lunch meat before the shakes start to dissipate. Charlie leans back, tilts his head, and pours the rest of his water over his face. It creates channels of clean skin down his cheeks, and only then do I realize how grimy he is. I must not look any better.

  Charlie turns to look at me. His eyes, previously underlined with sleepless rings, are now nearly hollow. I’ve heard of the “thousand-yard stare”that soldiers get after being shelled. Now I know what it means.

  “They’re out there,”Charlie says, and his voice comes from beneath a graveyard shroud. “Everything that we were never meant to see, or to live with. Everything God or the gods or mighty freaking Zeus ever wanted to get rid of. They’re out there now.”

  He turns away again, chucking the empty bottle and grabbing his head with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut. Still asleep, Selby moans and rustles on top of the bedspread.

  “We need to get her to a doctor,”I say.

  “Yeah. I just . . . Man, I don’t even know where to go.”

  “Can you find our way back to the road?”

  “Sure. We’ll just follow the smoke.”

  “Yeah, what is that? What’s causing it?”

  “It’s them. It has to be. I don’t know how they’re doing it. Fire-breathing dragons, maybe. It wouldn’t surprise me. But then I don’t know what would surprise me anymore.”

  I stand up, and it’s not easy. “Let’s just go. Maybe to Tucson? That’s closest. We’ll figure it out. I’m just glad we’re outside.”

  “Have you tried your phone?”

  “No.”I fish through my bag, find my phone, and call Dad. At least I’ve got a signal, so that’s good, but all I get is his automated voice mail reciting his phone number back to me. When the beep sounds, I say, “Dad, it’s me. I’m okay. I’m . . .”

  Charlie looks up, watching me, waiting to see what I’ll say. Great question, because I have no idea.

  “I’m still in Arizona, and, yeah, I’m safe. I’m coming home as soon as I can. Please call me when you get this. I love you.”

  Before I’m even finished, Charlie’s trying to reach his brother, but doesn’t get through either.

  “Try nine-one-one,”I say.

  “And tell them what?”

  “About Alex.”

  “Yeah, tell them what about Alex?”

  It’s a good point. If we tell the truth, no one will come. If we lie, it won’t make us look very good. Then again, it’s our fault—

  —it’s my fault what happened to him, and I don’t know that we can avoid not looking so good to the police. Anyway, fires are raging in the desert, and no one can change anything in the cave right now.

  “Okay,”I say. “We’ll call them later, then.”

  Charlie slides himself into the driver’s seat. He tries the ignition, and to my surprise, the engine turns over. The RV being mobile is the first good thing that’s happened since before we went into the cave.

  But instead of driving off, Charlie says to me, “Abby? It’s not your fault.”

  Some vague semblance of a laugh, with no truth to it, pops out of me. “Well, no, I’m pretty sure it is, Charlie.”

  “Abby—”

  “Don’t. Please. Not yet. Not now. Let’s just get safe first.”

  Charlie hesitates, but gives me one quick nod. He puts the RV into gear, and we roll into the desert.

  “I’ll check on Selby,”I say, and go back to the bedroom as Charlie turns the RV in the direction of the smoke.

  I stumble to the fridge on my way to the bedroom and scan the contents. Staples, mostly: milk, eggs, bottled water, packaged meats and cheeses, that sort of thing. I go through the cabinets next, finding peanut butter, bread, dry cereal, instant oatmeal . . . the three of us could eat well for a week if we needed to, two weeks if we take it slow.

  The three of us. Just the three of us now.

  I push the thought away and head into the bedroom. I sit on the bed beside Selby, who is still asleep. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Her black shirt is crusted with old blood, but not a huge amount. I lift up the hem and peek at the wound. Charlie’s shirt has untied itself overnight as she rolled around. The rushed, half-assed bandage job I patched together in the cave is saturated purple red, and dried rivulets of blood crackle against her skin, but there’s no fresh blood that I can see. All in all, considering it’s a stab wound, I figure she got off cheap, at least so far. Who knows w
hat kind of damage happened internally.

  I drop Selby’s shirt and lay a hand on her forehead. Her skin feels clammy, but not too hot or too cold. Without being a doctor or nurse, I decide she’s probably in as good a shape as could be hoped for.

  Selby wakes up just as Charlie discovers what we hope is the dirt road that will lead us to the highway. She lets out a groan, rolling onto her back, blinking against the relative brightness of the RV.

  “What happened?”Selby mumbles, and then says, “Oh shit, my stomach . . . Oh shit, what happened?”

  “We made it. We’re out of the cave. Charlie’s headed for the highway, we’re going to try to get to Tucson, get you to a doctor.”

  “Oh, God,”Selby says, and I can see the playback footage from the past couple days rampaging through her mind. She pulls herself up to a sitting position, grimacing. “It really happened? It really did?”

  “Yeah. It really did.”

  Selby starts chanting cuss words and chewing nervously on her lip.

  “I need you to focus,”I say. “All right? You know science. There’s got to be a science behind this, when it’s all said and done. Right now, you’re the defense department.”

  “But I—I—I don’t—”

  “There’s an explanation for everything, right? Always a scientific explanation?”

  She nods, not quite dialed in, but at least she’s listening. I don’t for a second think she can solve the crisis we’re in right now, but I figure getting her thinking about something else will keep her from freaking out. I’m sure trying hard not to.

  “Okay,”I say as gently as I can. “So we need a theory. A scientific explanation for everything we’ve seen. Okay? Can you do that? What is going on out there?”

  “Um . . . it’s . . . um . . .”

  “Take your time. Just think. You’re a scientist. You have this huge IQ. Work the problem.”

  The panic slowly leaves her face. She’s still panting a bit and looks pale, but less so than the minute before. She lets her eyes dart from place to place, like a machine accessing information.

  “Uh . . . sss . . . string . . . string theory,”she says after a minute.

  Good. She’s distracting herself. Whether what she comes up with is going to help us or not, I don’t care at the moment. At least she’s backing away from the psychological deep end.