by Amy Cross
I wait, too scared to look, until eventually the ground is still and I force myself to open my eyes.
There's no sign of the big dragon, and all I hear is a distant wind. Slowly, I lean out and look both ways along the aisle, but the dragon is gone. A moment later I hear a loud, strange cawing sound, and I look up just in time to see a large, strange bird wheeling across the sky. Wherever I am, I've never seen a place like this before.
Finally, telling myself that maybe there's a chance Hannah is okay, I climb out from the shelf and look back toward the spot where I last saw her. For a moment, I wait in case she suddenly appears, even though I know the dragon had her in its mouth. I take a couple of steps forward, forcing myself to be brave, and then I keep going a little further until I spot a pool of blood on the ground. There are body parts, too, thrown all around the aisle, and I shudder as I turn away. A cold wind blows against me, whistling as it hits the shelves, and suddenly I realize that Hannah's not going to be able to help me.
I'm alone here.
Stumbling forward, I start running. I don't now where I'm going, but at least I can get away from the creature that killed Hannah. Maybe Hannah's plan is so smart, it actually involved her getting eaten. Then she's going to do something really amazing, and she'll come back like Gandalf. Sure, things look bad right now, but I have to hold onto the hope that somehow Hannah has everything under control.
Reaching a crossing, I stop and look both ways. Two more aisles stretch as far as I can see, but I don't know which way to go. I listen for a moment, and I can hear a strange screeching sound in the distance. It sounds as if some kind of bird is squawking, so I turn and head the other way. I'm starting to feel tired, but I'm also too scared to stop. By the time I reach the next crossing, though, I have to wait for a moment to get my breath back.
And then I realize that the ground is trembling beneath my feet.
Suddenly I hear a loud roar, and I turn just in time to see the dragon smashing through a set of shelves and lunging at me. I pull back, but in the process I fall to the ground as splinters of wood rain down all around me.
The dragon rises up, roaring again into the alien sky, and then it fixes me with an expression of pure hatred before plunging down once more.
I scream, but in that moment the ground seems to open up beneath me and I fall into darkness. The dragon still comes at me, but it slams its jaws shut a little too far from my face and then, a moment later, I see crackles of energy flare and then close tight around the monster's neck. The dragon lets out a scream, just as I slam down hard against the ground.
The dragon's head rushes toward me.
I roll out of the way, and then the head hits the ground behind me and I'm sent skittering across dark, ashy soil. Panicking, I try to get to my feet, but then I glance back toward the dragon and I see to my horror that its head has been severed. There's blood leaking out across the black ground, and the dragon's eyes twitch for a moment before falling still. A moment later, one final sigh escapes from the dragon's mouth. There's more blood – Hannah's, I think – smeared around its lips.
Too scared to make a move, in case the dragon's head somehow lurches back to life, I even hold my breath as I stare at the creature. I think it's dead, but I might be wrong. In this place – wherever I am now – how do I know that monsters can't just keep going, even after they've been decapitated?
A moment later, as a freezing cold wind blows against me, I realize that the temperature here is very low.
Finally, I force myself to turn and look around. I'm on some kind of dark, empty world where the ground is covered in soot and ash. There are almost no stars in the black sky above, and no mountains in the distance. There are no shelves, either, so I think maybe I'm on yet another world. In fact, it's so dark here, I can barely see anything at all. The land just seems to stretch flat in every direction, but a moment later I turn the other way and spot something moving not too far away.
There's a person out there, struggling through all the ash.
“Hey!” I call out, not even stopping to worry that this might be dangerous. “Can you help me?” I wave my arms. “I'm over here!”
The figure stops for a moment and looks this way. I can't really make anything out, other than someone who appears to be wearing a gray cloak and hood. Apparently oblivious to me, he – or is it she? - carries on wading through the ashes, heading past me.
“Wait!” I shout. “Please, I need to find my way home!”
I start hurrying after the figure, but my feet are starting to get bogged down in all the ash. I'm just about able to keep up, but I'm not making much progress and so far the figure doesn't seem to be very interested in helping me.
“Stop!” I yell. “Please, I'll do anything, just -”
Suddenly the figure stops and turns to me.
Startled by the sight of pure darkness staring out from inside the hood, I manage to lose my footing, and I fall down hard onto my hands and knees. A cloud of ash immediately puffs up from beneath my hands, almost blinding me, and it takes a moment before I can wave the cloud away and see again.
The figure stays completely still for a few seconds, and then starts wading toward me. All the ash makes a rustling sound, and I'm suddenly worried that this person might not be friendly.
“Hannah?” I ask cautiously, hoping against hope that she might somehow have followed me here. “Is that you?”
I wait, but the figure simply keeps coming until it stops just a few feet away, towering above me against the almost star-free sky.
“I don't know where I am,” I explain, as I feel tears starting to once again fill my eyes. “I just want to go home. Hannah, it's you, isn't it? Please, be Hannah.”
The figure hesitates, before turning and looking all around, almost as if it's worried that someone else might be coming. Then, slowly, the figure reaches up and pulls the hood back, revealing the face of an old, thin, bearded man with the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
“Do you know where this place is?” I ask. “Do you know where I can get help?”
His gaze narrows slightly, but he doesn't say anything.
“I fell down here,” I continue, slowly getting to my feet and starting to dust ash from my knees. “I fell from up there, but...”
Looking up, I see nothing but the dark sky. There are a few stars, although – a moment later – I see one of those stars suddenly blink out of existence, and then a few seconds after that the same thing happens to another.
“There was a portal,” I say finally, turning to the man again. “I think I must have fallen through one of them again. I was in a place that was a giant library, with lots of -”
“The Great Library?” he asks suddenly, his voice sounding deep and gravelly. “Is that lost too?”
“Lost?”
“Then it really is the end,” he continues, with a hint of sadness in his voice. “This has all been so quick. All the worlds are collapsing. Reality is being torn apart, but I'd hoped that maybe the original eight worlds would survive. If the Great Library is gone, that means I was wrong.” He looks up. “The stars are dying. Soon there'll be nothing left. Just emptiness.”
“I want to go home.”
“Tell me about it,” he says with a sigh. “Since this started about an hour ago, I've been racing around like a -”
Stopping suddenly, he stares at me.
“What is it?” I ask finally, worried by his expression. After a moment, I take a step back. “All I want is to go home. Why won't you help me?”
“It's you,” he mutters, furrowing his brow. “Everything's collapsing around you.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
He points at me.
“You're the focal point,” he continues. “This place is nothing, this place is an ash world that was burned a long time ago when an Irridium fleet drained it for fuel. Now this is becoming the last place in all of reality and time, and the only reason for that can be... you.”
I wait
for him to explain, but he's staring at me now as if he's shocked.
I don't understand anything.
Suddenly he turns and looks all around.
“Reality is falling apart,” he says finally. “The end is coming closer from every direction, and this point – where we're standing right now – is the center of it all. I don't know why that's the case. To be honest, this place has never been the center of anything before, it's always been something of a backwater. That's why I like it here. Until right now, I could always get on with just bumbling about, and no-one ever disturbed me.” He tilts his head slightly as he looks at me again. “I'm certainly of no interest. I'm not important. Which means you must be the cause of it all.”
“I don't know anything,” I reply, sniffing back tears. “I just want to go home.”
“And where's home?” he asks. “You look human.”
“Of course I am,” I tell him. “Like you.”
“Like me?” He stares at me, and then he chuckles. “Well, there's no time to go into that, but I'm certainly not human. I'm from a world that humans could never understand. For one thing, in my world time is visible. For another, my brain is cube-shaped.” He pauses, before kneeling in front of me. “But you... You're human, and humans – if you don't mind my saying – usually aren't very important, in the grand scheme of things.” He leans closer. “So why is the whole of reality collapsing all around you?”
“I don't know,” I whimper, as more and more tears roll down my cheeks. “I don't even know what that means.”
He looks past me, then over my shoulder, then at me again.
“There's a countdown,” he continues. “A deadline. Your very existence is causing things to disappear. That makes you seem like a rather special young lady, except you don't seem special at all.” He tilts his head once more. “None of this is personal, of course. Just some observations. But my feet were tingly a moment ago, and now they're not, and...”
He turns, and I let out a shocked gasp as I see that his legs are fading to nothing.
“You're going to be the last thing left in existence,” he explains. “That'll be very lonely, but only for a few seconds. I imagine you'll get swallowed up too, and then there'll be nothing left. I'd very much like to know exactly what's been causing this, but I suppose I shan't get the chance now. Still, at least I get to be the second-to-last person in existence. I guess that's something. My teachers always told me I'd never amount to anything, but I think this counts as something of an achievement, even if it's more by luck than judgment.” His face starts to fade away. “It was a pleasure to be with you. I never asked your name, though. And I never told you mine. I'm -”
He's gone.
Gasping, I step back and see that the man has simply faded to nothing. And then, as I look around, I realize that everything else is gone too. I'm standing on a patch of ashy ground that's barely wider than I can reach, and the empty darkness is getting closer and closer. I try to work out which way to run, but then I feel something strange in my hands and I look down just in time to see them fading away.
“Hannah!” I scream, looking up at the starless sky. “Help me!”
I look back down, and now almost all of my body is gone.
“Please help me,” I whimper, as the last of me fades to nothing. “Please be -”
Chapter Twenty
I blink.
Chapter Twenty-One
Suddenly I open my eyes and let out a shocked gasp.
Sitting up, I'm momentarily lost. My heart is racing and I'm sweating, and it takes a few more seconds before I realize that I'm in my bed. I was dreaming, that much I know, but all my memories of the dream have slipped away, leaving me with only the sensation of running, of being scared, of hiding and then...
Then what happened?
This is stupid.
I wipe my brow and feel sweat running down my forehead. Glancing at the clock by my bed, I see that it's already 6.01am, which means there's no point trying to get back to sleep. I rub my eyes, and I try one more time to remember the dream, and then I climb out of bed and head through to the en-suite bathroom. Once the light's on, I take a moment to start filling the sink and then I look at my reflection. I look tired, but my skin's okay this morning and that cold sore on my lip is starting to fade. Small mercies.
I lean down to the washbasin, but at the last moment I freeze. Still looking at my reflection in the mirror, I realize that my hair is dry. I reach up to double-check, but I'm right. Wasn't my hair wet a moment ago, or was that just part of the dream? For a few seconds I'm utterly confused, and it takes a real effort to jolt myself back to the here and now. I tell myself to stop being so stupid, to stay focused on getting ready.
Once I've washed my face, I slip out of my pajamas and head back through to find my uniform in the wardrobe. I still feel a little discombobulated. It's funny how a dream, even if you don't remember the details, can leave you feeling strange. Fortunately, I don't really have time to obsess over these things, so instead I quickly get dressed and then I sit on the side of the bed and start trying to fix my hair. I can see myself in the mirror on the table opposite, although after a moment my gaze shifts to the photo frame nearby. I bought that yesterday, on payday, and now I need to put a photo in. I'll do that tonight, after I've finished work. I promise.
Still feeling a little groggy and peculiar, I finish getting ready. I can't shake a really strange sensation, but I guess I must have just slept funny. Finally I open the door and step out into the corridor, and I actually feel happy about getting to work. At least work here at Harper's Hotel keeps me busy, and keeps my head from getting too crowded. Smiling, I pull the door shut and head toward the far end of the corridor, but then, after just one step, I spot something glinting on the carpet.
I crouch down and pick the object up, and it turns out to be a small, colorful enamel bin badge in the shape of a goldfish.
***
“Stephanie, can you make sure that 209 got their newspaper this morning?”
“On it, George,” I reply, turning to head back across the kitchen.
“And ask in reception about that asshole from last night. He'd better not have made a formal complaint. It was one hair in a bowl of soup! One!”
“I'll check.”
“Some people just like to rant. It's like their only hobby.”
I smile.
“And Stephanie?”
Reaching the door, I turn to see that George is stirring two pots at once on the stove while leaning over to check a third.
“How many more are there?” he asks.
“More what, George?”
“Assholes wanting breakfast. Please tell me that after this order, we're done.”
“Two more rooms haven't come down yet,” I reply, wincing slightly. “Sorry. That's two rooms of two.”
I see the irritation in his expression, but then suddenly I'm struck by a strong image of George's severed head rolling across the floor. For a few seconds, that image is all I can see, and I have to blink several times to bring myself back to reality.
“Stephanie?” he says cautiously. “Everything okay there?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I stammer, forcing a smile. “Never better.”
***
“Mum?” I say finally. “Is that you?”
She stops weeping. Instantly, in a flash. I can hear her sniffing behind her hands, but at least now it's clear that she heard me. I know this woman can't be my mother – my mother lives hundreds of miles away and barely ever leaves town – but somehow she seems to be right here.
“Is it you?” I whisper, as a cold fear starts spreading through my chest. “Mum?”
I wait, and slowly she begins to lower her hands. I gasp as soon as I see her tear-filled eyes, but more than that I'm shocked by her expression of utter, drained horror.
“Mum?” I say finally, still struggling to understand what's happening. “Why are -”
Suddenly she screams in my face.
&n
bsp; ***
“Your mother's not here at the moment, sweetheart.”
I feel a flicker of fear in my chest, but only a flicker. This is okay. Nothing's wrong.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“She went out to the shops about half an hour ago.”
Now it's relief. Pure, unbridled relief.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“That she went to the shops?” He sounds confused. “Well, fairly, yes. I've got to go and meet her in an hour outside Marks and Sparks. Then she wants me to drive her to Nan's for a quick visit and -”
“So she's okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mum's okay. She's not upset?”
“Why would she be upset?”
“And you saw her this morning?”
“About half an hour ago. I already told you that. What's up, Steph? You know you can tell me, don't you?”
“No, everything's fine,” I reply, swallowing back the last of my tears. If Mum was at home half an hour ago, it's physically impossible for her to have been here, hundreds of miles away, at more or less the exact same time. Which means I did imagine the whole encounter after all. “It was nothing, I'll call another time. Tell her not to worry, and have a good time with Nan. Give her my love.”
Putting the phone down, I turn to head back through to reception, but then I stop as I catch sight of a bookshelf on the far side of the room. I must have walked past those shelves a thousand times, but suddenly I feel as if they're strangely significant. I step closer, and for a moment I have the sensation of being far away on another world. Reaching out, I touch one of the shelves, and a fraction of a second later I hear a bird shrieking.
I turn, expecting to see the bird flying high in a strange sky, but of course all I see is the room's ceiling.
Feeling as if I'm losing my mind, I turn and hurry away from the shelves. I don't now what's come over me this morning, but I need to get my head straight.
