Trick of Fae

by S L Mason

  My mouth hung open and soundless to the horror I’d witnessed. The shock of what I’d seen wore off, and I jumped up. The last thing in the world I wanted to happen was for me to die two feet from Arty and not having released him.

  Zoe had barely laid a finger on Olive and the tree reacted. I tentatively stretched my arm out. The hum of the tree rose to greet me. My index finger made contact with his hand. I curved my fingers around his palm. The B-flat widened its resonance, and the branches and thorns vibrated. The creaking squeak of wood splitting open surrounded me as the tree pulled back releasing Arty. I grabbed his wrist with my other hand and dragged him away.

  Are you kidding me? That’s it? All I had to do was touch him?

  Arty stood stock-still with milky-white eyes of enchantment. My hands shook as I ran them over his body, searching for injuries. Other than some bumps and bruises, he was fine—a mental zombie but fine.

  I ran my fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face. I cupped his stubbly cheek. He didn’t respond, and tears welled in my eyes.

  What was I hoping for?

  “Arty, wake up!” I shook his broad shoulders.

  His eyes blinked, and his shoulders raised and lowered but nothing. The fire I’d been carrying around in my belly raged into an inferno. I raised my hand and slapped the side of his face. His head whipped to the side and returned to his original position.

  “I’m sorry! I just want you back. Wake up please.” My arms wrapped around his waist, and I buried my face in his belly. “Please, I can’t do this without you. We’re a team, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.” They had turned him into a dress-up doll. The only difference between Arty and my American Girl doll was that he was a boy.

  I stepped away. I had to. We couldn’t stay here. I’d take the Fae whammy off Arty later. We needed to get out of here. I grabbed Zoe’s hand and then her sister’s and led them to stand next to Arty.

  The tree sounded like a bell in the back of my mind. I heard the Christmas song, “Ring Ding A Ling” playing in the back of my mind. It ran through my head, and I gazed around. That was it! I needed to create a song that sounded like bells or a metal xylophone; something with a metallic ring. If I could harness the sound the tree was putting off, maybe I could save everyone.

  I began to hum “The Chorus of the Bells,” but I couldn’t remember the words. The tree rippled. It was vibrating with the sound of my voice. The tone apparently identified with the song, and the thorns retracted. The branches pulled back, releasing their captives. I grabbed the hands of the free and led them over to Arty. The tree’s base was massive. It could’ve rivaled any sequoia in California, and they were thousands of years old.

  In my mind, the song ended. I stopped humming. At that moment, every thorn lashed back, cutting into whomever they were still holding. I started again. Some of the words came back to me in different places.

  My parents had never been much for Christmas music. My mother said it was everywhere, and it made her crazy. Now I wished I had listened closer. Every human that I freed from the tree, I pulled away as they stepped up. I moved as quickly as I could until there were thirty-eight people standing around the clearing. Every single one of them was dead in the mind. They were dead in their eyes; alive but no one was home.

  I couldn’t think of a way to free them, and I didn’t hear anyone else coming. I stopped humming the bell song, and the tree vibrated deeply, rippling out from our location. I could almost make out a wave of sound.

  I tried to think of what I’d heard Janice sing before he entranced Arty.

  He used some nursery rhyme maybe. The only one I could think of was “Ba Ba Black Sheep.” Maybe the words didn’t matter, and it was all about the music and intent. Music was about swaying whoever was around you to your point of view and making them feel what you feel. I wanted every person here to be awake like I was. I had to think of a song that spoke of freedom, where you weren’t beholden to someone else or enslaved by them. But I couldn’t think of any songs like that. I didn’t know those nursery rhymes. They didn’t exist in my world.

  Whatever it was, I’d have to create it. The ground rumbled to the point that soon I would stumble and so would everyone else. I couldn’t risk anyone falling into the black shaft under the tree. For all I knew, it led to the center of the Earth. Hand-in-hand like a daisy chain, we walked over one of the bridges, reaching the edge’s topiary garden. I gathered the kids into a tight circle.

  Tapping my forehead, I walked around the group until I reached Arty again. I looked into his glazed eyes. Janice, he’d sung about home, his home. I was from Texas, the Lone Star State, and the only song that came to mind was the American national anthem. They sang it at the beginning of every football game, and it reminded me of home. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Arty. He loved the national anthem and watching the game. He always forced me to watch too.

  “O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light.” I let it burst forth.

  The ground shifted underneath us with the vibration elevating us. I saw the stones breaking away and separating. My ankles shifted back and forth like a surfer on a board. I fought to maintain my balance. Visually, it looked like we were still there, but I could tell there was a difference in level between where I was standing from where we had been.

  I’d created a floating raft similar to what Janice used to bring me here. I kept singing a song of home, of America and Texas, of the flag that managed to stand through an entire battle, no matter how many times our enemies tried to take it down or destroy us. I held onto that idea, the idea that we could prevail, even in the direst of circumstances, humanity would prevail.

  We rose into the air about three feet off the ground when Olive slipped as if to tumble over the side, pulling at Arty’s arm. Arty’s eyes lost their milky-white vacancy as Olive’s arm yanked him off balance.

  I couldn’t stop singing, but my belly tightened. I missed a note, and our raft shifted until I regained my composure and carried on.

  Arty released my hand and smiled at me, but he also turned the momentum of Olive’s fall back around, flinging her onto our raft. He traded places with her before he disappeared over the edge.

  My hand clawed at empty air. I wanted to scream at him, to save him, but I knew that if I stopped singing, everybody would be lost. My voice rose as my chest tightened and tears fell. I’d never heard clarity in my own voice or the beauty of my own songs. I always sang along with the radio and in the shower like everyone else. This was different though. I heard my own desperation as I raised my voice and sang those last few words, “The land of free and the home of the brave.”

  The world snapped, followed by a loud crack.

  I suddenly wasn’t looking at the garden of evil anymore. We were floating in the sunshine somewhere near my house. The circle of stones we’d been riding, they lowered themselves down onto the middle of the street.

  We were surrounded by rotting corpses lying in yards and on sidewalks.

  My zombie companions stood holding hands, and I couldn’t think how to wake them up.

  I walked over to Zoe and slapped her as hard as I could. Other than the red handprint on the side of her face, there was nothing.

  I collapsed to the ground crying. Arty was gone. I made it out, but he wasn’t here. My scream tore free. He’d woken up and fallen. I’d put Olive’s hand in Arty’s. Why? I tilted my head back, and my raw throat shrieked at the sky.

  It was all for nothing.

  I dug on nails into my palms and then beat my thighs with my fists. A warm trickle of blood filled my hands. I opened my palms, and they were covered with blood. All I saw were Arty’s eyes as he sank from sight with his hand stretched out to me and his brows pinched. Blood was everywhere, and it filled my nose and met my eyes. My hands were covered in it. I rubbed them on my pant leg. The only thing I accomplished was rubbing the scabs off. The blood kept coming.

  I desperately searched my surroundings with my eyes, which landed on Olive and
Zoe. They stood together holding hands. They both wore their shy smiles of contentment.

  They were together, and they had each other. I snapped my jaw shut, locking my teeth in place.

  We have each other.

  Arty wasn’t gone. He was lost, and I had to find him.

  I reattached Olive to my human chain and then grabbed her hand. I walked home with thirty-seven kids in tow.

  I was on autopilot. I couldn’t see where I was going through the blurry world of my tears. I instinctively I was facing the wide-open front door of my house. There were no bodies in front of my house. Hot tears rushed down my face again as I looked over at Arty’s parents. His father’s head was halfway across the yard. I wanted to scream, but I was afraid of who would hear me.

  Carefully, I left all the kids in the middle of the street. None of them could see the bodies. I was sure they couldn’t smell the stink of rotting human flesh. It was probably the most disgusting smell I’d ever encountered in my entire life. The number of flies was amazing.

  Before I reached the tripwire to my house, I retched in the grass. There wasn’t anything in my belly, but whatever was left was gone. I fell on my hands and knees. My hair fell into my face, and my braid had come undone. I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand. I used my fingers to squeegee some of the puke out of my hair. I wiped my hands on my pants. My body was covered in a thin sheet of sweat and grime.

  I didn’t see any blood in the doorway, but the door was wide open. Clearly, someone had come in.

  I carefully stepped over the trip line for the Claymore. I spied blood on the floor, just a little bit, but not enough for anybody to have died from. I forced my feet to carry me farther into the house one baby step at a time.

  CHAPTER 26

  I opened every door, closet, and cupboard. I went upstairs and downstairs. I went to the office and pulled back the safe, but it was empty. All the weapons were gone, and all the food was gone like someone had torn everything out of the cupboards, which hung off the walls. Arty’s parents’ freezer was standing open and still running, but it was empty. I stopped and absently close the lid.

  There was nobody here. I wanted to sit down and cry, but I couldn’t. They were probably dead. I went back to the gun safe and dialed the lock pin, my birthday, August 8, 2003. The door swung open without a sound, quietly since it was oiled. Inside, there was a note taped to the back wall.

  “That room Arty and I were looking for. We found it. Come find us.”

  The room they were looking for at Sorenson’s house. He’d found Sorenson’s safe room or whatever they called it. I crunched the note in my hand, listening to the crinkling of the paper.

  I ran upstairs and ripped off all my clothes, hearing the threads tear from the seams. They had blood on them from the Fae, and I hated them. I grabbed jeans, a T-shirt, my own sports bra, and hiking boots, the ones Dad bought me earlier in the summer. I opened my nightstand and pulled out two LED lights, which I’d kept there in case the power went out. I put one in either front pocket and grabbed a little pocketknife and clipped it onto my belt loop. I threw on a belt and a couple of hooded sweatshirts, layering them over the top. It sounded stupid, but at some point in time, it was going to get cold. I didn’t know if I was ever coming back here. I plucked my old backpack off the floor and dumped it out over the center of the bed. I pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. I went to the bathroom, and I grabbed a toothbrush. I threw that in the backpack, along with traveling packs of napkins, a bar of soap, several pairs of underwear, another sports bra, and five pairs of socks. I couldn’t live without socks.

  I glanced out the window, and then I looked down at the clock; it was four. I had a couple of hours until the sun went down. They hadn’t caught my parents, which meant they’d be back looking for me. Maybe they did catch my parents and the note was a Fae trick. It could’ve all been a trap, every bit of it, either trying to trap me at Sorenson’s house or trying to convince me to stay in the area. So they could trap me somehow. They knew I was gone, and they saw me take every single one of these kids. They would want us all back for their nefarious purposes.

  I turned the water on in the sink, cupped my hands, and splashed my face. There was dirt and grime on me. I let the water washed it away, splashing and rubbing with my fingers. Whatever specks of dust disappeared with the water dripped off my nose. Finally, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess as it fell down all around my face.

  I took both of my hands and moved my hair behind my ears. I didn’t want to admit what I saw. My eyes had always been boring hazel, nothing exciting about them. I didn’t have flecks of gold or all those various descriptions people gave. I had muddy hazel eyes, but when I looked in the mirror, that wasn’t what I saw. I was no longer muddy boring hazel but a raging bright fluorescent green, all around the center with a dark chocolaty brown outer ring receding away. My skin had taken on the porcelain-perfect smoothness of Fae, and my complexion crystal clear.

  My ears weren’t round anymore, but they met with a slight point. I didn’t look like an elf or anything. If I kept my hair down, no one would notice. Sure, I saw a little point. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was wishful thinking. I pushed back from the mirror, letting my head rest against the doorframe. I watched the reflection in the mirror. My eyes locked on the frame and the numbers etched on it behind me.

  I’d been the same height for the last three years. I hadn’t grown an inch, not even a centimeter. I gazed at the door frame where my father had marked my height every couple of months from the time I was old enough to stand up. Notches had dates, and my last date was three years ago. I was clearly taller than that mark by a good inch.

  How did you grow an inch in a couple of days? It’s not possible.

  I slammed my head back against the door frame.

  “It’s not fucking possible; none of this is possible.” The sun chose that moment to peek over the horizon and flashed through the window, hitting the mirror. The full force of it blasted into my eyes, like someone took a needle and stabbed my cornea. The pain was excruciating. I had to cover my eyes and close them. I threw an arm over my face and slammed my fist into the mirror. I didn’t want to see it. I retreated from the reflection.

  There was nothing else I wanted or needed. It was all part of someone else’s life. The old Sarah. I was the new Sarah, and none of this mattered anymore.

  Down in the kitchen, I grabbed a couple of Ziploc bags and threw them in my backpack. You never know when you might need a Ziploc to keep your stuff dry or to keep something wet. It was one of those things my mother always said—Ziploc bags were good. Who cared if they polluted the environment when you were just trying to survive? If they meant the difference between life and death, I choose life.

  My eyes trailed around the kitchen and landed on Arty’s cell phone. It was still sitting on the kitchen counter. I unplugged it along with my backup battery. I snatched both along with the chargers. I shoved them in the front pocket of my backpack, and then I slung my backpack over my shoulder.

  I didn’t have any money, and I didn’t have any ID. There was no one left to check for ID or to ask for money. It was all fake anyway. I marched out the front door.

  I grabbed Olive’s hand, and that was when it dawned on me what Janice had done. He’d whistled at Arty like he was a dog. I’d been too angry to pay attention.

  I only knew one whistle, the one my father used for dogs. I didn’t know why because we didn’t have a dog, but he’d whistle for one and they’d come. I put my lips together and blew. Nothing happened. I licked my lips to try again, but my tongue wasn’t in the right spot. The sound came out flat and reedy. I licked my lips again, pulling in a deep breath, and blew. The glaze in their eyes washed away. They collectively blinked, eyelids working like squeegees on a window. The milky film that made them zombies was wiped away.

  My ears began to ache. I reached up, fingering the new tip on my ears that had formed. In the bathroom, it was
small and slight, but not anymore. They all stood there looking at me. A cornucopia of voices rose with everyone asking the same questions. Where are we? Who are you? How did I get here? Where’s such-and-such and so-and-so? Some of the questions sounded like they were in different languages, but they all gave way to weeping. The only laughter and happiness I heard, was Zoe clasping Olive. She barreled into me giving me a great big hug such as her little frail body could.

  “You saved her, you saved me, and you saved us!” She looked around. “She saved all of us, the Fae had us and she saved us.”

  Many of them looked at me with disbelief. I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say.

  I hadn’t saved them all. I hadn’t saved Arty, or any of those other girls.

  “It’s getting dark. We need to leave the area. I have to go to a house down the street and check on something. When I get back, we’ll all leave, okay?” My eyes searched the faces.

  “Don’t worry, Sarah, I’ll watch out for them.” Zoe’s bright eyes glistened with her happy tears. “We’ll all stay right here waiting for you.”

  “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, walk down the street until it comes to a T. Turn right and keep walking. Don’t stop until you don’t see another house. You’ll end up in a warehouse district. Pick one and hunker down, but don’t turn on the lights.” I saw Zoe’s sister clamoring at her whimpering. I turned away and headed down the street.

  Phil Sorenson lay in his front yard with a big slash across his fat belly. His guts were strung out, and they’d been spread around. I guess the dogs had been at him. Probably King.

  There wasn’t anything to throw up, but my stomach starting to lurch. I dashed inside. I moved from room to room for a couple minutes, but I didn’t see anything. There were no telltale signs of a secret room. Sorenson was too smart for that. He was always telling everybody how smart he was. Truth was he was smart, just not smart enough to keep himself alive.