by Melody Rose
I sat up and raised my arms in the air triumphantly. “We’re dead!”
“That’s not something I thought you would say excitedly,” Ansel grumbled from his place on the floor.
When I finally saw my boyfriend, I had to do a double take. His normally golden skin, kissed by the sun, was a faded gray. It looked as though he stepped into a black and white movie. His features drooped, and there were speckled marks on his neck. He had a similar reaction when he finally saw me.
“Let me guess,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “I look as weird to you as you look to me right now.”
“All black and white and gray?” I checked. I reached out my hands and turned them so I could examine both sides. My features were the same gaunt colors, with knobbly knuckles and cracked fingernails.
“Yep,” Ansel said, popping the word against his lips. “Death doesn’t look good on you, babe.”
“You either,” I said, trying to imitate his joking tone, but I couldn’t seem to shake the morbidity in the air.
“Well, what do we do next?” Ansel said as he got to his feet. He reached out a hand and offered it to me. I reached up to take it but nearly lost my balance as my hand fell right through his.
I didn’t quite comprehend what happened right away, so I tried again, thinking I had just missed. But that wasn’t the case. My hand slipped right through Ansel’s again. Stunned, I spent the next several seconds waving my hand through Ansel’s just to watch the astounding effect happen over and over again. Ansel finally pulled himself away from me, out of my reach.
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” he concluded. “The first few times was cool, but now it’s just creepy.”
“But wait!” I exclaimed, suddenly full of panic. “Does that mean…?” I reached out and touched the helm that was next to me, tipped over on to its top. Miraculously, I could hold on to the metal, which had retained its original coloring.
“Oh, thank the gods,” I exhaled a sigh of relief, putting my hand to my chest. As I did so, I reached up to fiddle with my locket. To my surprise, I found that I couldn’t grab it. My hand flayed about like a dead fish as I tried to grab the necklace, but there was no way to do it.
“Erich!” I said, my worried eyes connecting with Ansel’s. “We don’t have Erich.”
“It’s okay,” Ansel said. He crouched down and tried to grab my shoulders but pulled his hands away at the last second, remembering. “Darren said we’re only supposed to be ‘dead’ for an hour. Once that corrects itself, we’ll be able to get Erich back out.”
“Right, right,” I said, reassuring myself with his words.
“Now,” Ansel said, his tone changing back to his determined, soldier voice, “I’m assuming this is the River Styx, and we need to ride it down to the actual Underworld.”
“Well, I’m not sure what river it is, but it will get us to the Underworld,” I corrected unhelpfully.
“So, do we just wait for Charon or what?” Ansel wondered.
“We don’t have to wait for him,” I said as a cocky smile spread across my lips.
Ansel raised an eyebrow in response.
“Just watch,” I smirked.
The pair of us got to our feet, and I crossed over to the edge of the rocky inlet. I closed my eyes and held out my hands. I dug around in my memories to find the feeling of Charon’s boat. The weight of the steel, the layers of death, and carnage woven into it. I remembered the kind of tingle it gave me as I yanked it up onto the shore the first time when I battled Charon for control of it. I sent out my thoughts down the length of the river, and my fingers twitched, searching for the boat.
Nothing happened at first. As I concentrated, I realized that I had only ever summoned metal that I could see. Never had I tried it before on a piece of metal that wasn’t within eyeshot. A spark of worry flared up in my stomach that I wouldn’t actually be able to get us where we needed to go. That Ansel and I would be stranded down here. Or worse, Charon would actually come to pick us up, and we wouldn’t get the audience with Hades that we needed and that we would get sorted into one of the three Underworld locations with the rest of the dead.
Instead of letting that worry grow and fester, I thought about the boat and how I managed to manipulate the first time around. I pictured the essence of it and all it had been through. Tingles shot up and down my spine, radiating along my arms. I knew it was close, and I envisioned it coming close to me. I brought it toward Ansel and me.
Then the river stopped rushing.
The silence was the encouragement I needed. Ansel’s mouth opened, and I heard the start of a sentence come from his lips. I whipped out my arms towards him, holding up one finger. A hiss emanated from my lips, warning him to be quiet. Slowly, I brought my arm back to my front, side by side with the other one as I reeled in the boat.
I closed my fists as though I were pulling an invisible rope. Hand over hand, I moved. My whole body heaved. I dug my heels in and yanked. The boat resisted my compulsion, giving me a hell of a game of tug of war.
It felt as though I were trying to wrangle a boar. It jerked, and I tipped forward on my toes. I heard Ansel shout my name from somewhere far away, but I couldn’t pay attention to him or address his concern. All of my concentration focused on the boat.
The tension in my hands grew as I pulled my arms back in toward me. The boat came with. I controlled its movements as it navigated over the top of the still, black river. Even though I heard the crash when the bottom collided with the rocky edge, I didn’t dare open my eyes yet. Suddenly, I had the impulse to open my hands. I complied even though I didn’t want to lose control of the boat. But to my surprise, there was a cool sensation that kissed my palms.
Immediately, I recognized the steel of the boat. The bow of the ship pressed into my hands, finally completing its journey to me. Despite the fact that I couldn’t touch anything else, I could confidently place my hands on this vessel. Armed with that knowledge, I opened my eyes.
“Holy shit,” Ansel whispered from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see his mouth hanging open. Even with his gray-toned features and poxish skin, I couldn’t help but smile at how attractive he looked at that moment. I liked impressing him, and there was a flare in my belly, reminding me of that desire.
“I told you I had it covered,” I said, trying my best to be cool and casual. “Will you grab the helm? We have somewhere we need to be.”
“Yes ma’am,” Ansel said with a sloppy salute. He did as he was told and then scrambled in the boat after me.
I let Ansel sit in the back as I had when I made this journey the first time around. I took a spot at the bow so that I could guide the boat appropriately. Mainly I would listen to the course of the ship and rely on it to send us in the correct direction.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Ansel asked, mistaking my silence for confusion rather than concentration.
“I remember the route,” I said, my words sticky on my tongue. “But we can’t go the same way that I went the first time.”
“Why not?” Ansel wondered, leaning forward, his upper body wrapping around the helm.
“Because there is this thing called the Tunnel of Fears,” I said, remembering it as I spoke. “It’s supposed to force the dead to relive their greatest fears.”
“Oh, Cheyenne,” Ansel said sympathetically. He tried to reach out and take my hand, but then we remembered we couldn’t exactly touch each other and retracted it. “That must have been horrible for you. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s the thing,” I said as I put my hands on my hips. “I didn’t experience it the first time because I wasn’t dead, but now…” I let my words trail off.
Ansel was smart enough to put the pieces together.
“We are dead,” Ansel concluded, “so we would have to experience it.”
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, cursing myself for not remembering this sooner. “I really don’t want to have to go through that tunnel if we can help it.
”
“You’re not alone,” Ansel agreed wholeheartedly. “It sounds like all of my worst nightmares come to life, and I just… I don’t know. Cheyenne. I’d really like to avoid that.”
“I know, me too,” I said as my brain raced to find an alternative solution. I shook my head, rolling my lips over my teeth in determination. “It doesn’t make sense that would be the only way to Hades. There are nine damn rivers in this place, and other Greek heroes never had to go through it. Maybe we don’t have to either.”
“So you think we can just take another river?” Ansel said. The hope was unmistakable in his voice. It was comforting to know that Ansel was just as nervous as me about the prospect of going through the Tunnel of Fears.
“I wonder if I can talk to the boat and find another path,” I said, the idea forming in my mind as I said the words.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Ansel asked as he moved one plank forward, getting as close to me as he could without touching me.
“As much as I appreciate that, I think the best thing for you to do is to be quiet,” I said to Ansel before beginning the journey down the river. “I have to concentrate on the metal in the boat and pointing it in the right direction.”
Ansel made a gesture of zipping up his lips and throwing away the key. He cradled the helm in his lap and offered me a closed-mouth smile. Satisfied, I closed my eyes. This time, I had the benefit of being able to touch the metal itself. I could connect to it much easier now that I had a direct link.
Okay, Boat, I thought, feeling slightly foolish. You’re going to listen to me and find another route to Hades, got it?
The metal in the boat vibrated under my fingertips, letting me know it had heard.
Then let’s do this, I replied, and I propelled the metal to move forward.
Together, the metal and I guided the boat along the river. The journey was unnerving. I had to keep my mind clear and free from wandering, which was difficult to do in the surrounding silence. It didn’t help that the deeper we went into the tunnels, the darker it got. I didn’t even need to close my eyes anymore, it was so dark, but I kept them shut, anyway.
My breathing matched the pulses of the tingles that shot up and down my nerves from the metal in the boat. It kept us on due course, following the familiar path along the river, down into the depths of the Underworld. I couldn’t let myself celebrate. As much as I wanted to whoop and holler that I was doing it, my abilities were getting us to Hades just as planned, I knew I needed to stay connected to the boat and hold my concentration as much as possible. Ansel was following my instructions and staying silent.
We came to a crossroads, with two tunnels opening up before us. I tapped into the metal’s knowledge and history, hoping to get a clear answer about which tunnel was the safest for us to take.
My eyes remained closed as I asked the metal for its expertise. Which way is the Tunnel of Fear? I posed the question.
The answer appeared as an image in my mind’s eye. The forked river laid before us. To the right, the river seeped into a darker ebony color than before. The cave hung low and ominous. On the left, the water lightened into gray, like clouds before a rainstorm. It was clear from the symbolism which route we needed to take and which would lead us down the Tunnel of Fear.
I extended my gratitude to the metal and guided the nose of the boat towards the left.
Then the boat jerked unexpectedly.
It wobbled like a table missing a leg. My knuckles turned white as I grabbed the edges of the boat, trying to stabilize it and myself. I reached out down my mental link with the metal and commanded it to settle. There was a slight resistance, but then the element finally listened. The metal forced the boat to still, but it no longer moved forward.
“What was that?” Ansel whispered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said quickly, trying to reassure him as much as myself. “That wasn’t me.”
“Then what was it?” Ansel asked, voicing the million-dollar question.
“I don’t know,” I started, but I was interrupted by another violent jerk from the boat.
Ansel had to drop the helm as he reached out to the sides to stabilize himself. I did the same and pushed my will into the metal, demanding obedience. The connection wasn’t as clear as before. It was like trying to call someone with limited cell service. The voice on the other line crackled and cut in and out.
“I can’t talk to the metal,” I said through gritted teeth, my concentration pushed to its limits. “Something’s blocking me.”
I tried to punch my way mentally through the blockade. As I fought to reform the connection with the metal, the boat turned of its own accord.
“Cheyenne,” Ansel said with a slow and worried voice, “where are we going?”
“It’s not me.” I bit the words out, a painful effort to speak. It felt as though my mind was being cleaved in two pieces. While it hadn’t been an easy journey to speak with metal, it had never been this hard for me to form a connection. Or to get one back that I’d lost.
The metal felt like sand slipping through my fingers, compelled by some other force than my powers. The boat responded accordingly and propelled us forward, down another tunnel than the one I was leading us down.
I pulled on the reins of this bucking and temperamental horse. It was as though the boat suddenly had a mind of its own. As though someone was fighting me for control…
At that moment, another voice entered my head. It slapped across my thoughts like a thunderclap.
“Get out of my boat!” it commanded. Another violent jerk came from the boat, accompanying the warning from the voice.
“Shy!” Ansel shouted as he toppled on his back, the helm flying across the floor of the boat as he lost his grip on it.
“I think Charon is fighting me,” I said in a rush, trying to let Ansel know what was going on. But the rocking on the boat upped its speed. It teetered back and forth as though we were caught in a hurricane, rather than on a still black river. All the while, the boat sped forward, zooming towards the darker of the two tunnels.
I felt like I was driving a car with no breaks. As much as I tried to reach out and regain control, there was nothing to hold on to. I looked up, down into the mouth of the Tunnel of Fear. A cold breeze breathed on the back of my neck and slid down my spine like an ice cube.
The sheer prospect of having to face my darkest fears terrified me. As brave as I thought I was, this tunnel’s entire purpose was to torture the newly dead. I didn’t want to have to experience that. What’s more, I didn’t want to put Ansel through it either. He was there to support me and had journeyed into the Underworld, so I wouldn’t have to go through it alone. Entering the Tunnel of Fear was definitely not a part of the bargain.
I made up my mind in a split second. I released the bow of the ship and spun on my heel to face Ansel, who pushed himself all the way to the back of the boat, keeping as much distance between him and the tunnel as possible. I could already see the impending horror in his eyes at the prospect of venturing in the tunnel. I clambered back to my boyfriend, doing my best to keep my balance against the constant rocking. I took his hand in mine and picked the helm off the floor, catching before it nearly rolled off the side.
“Come on,” I said as I tugged Ansel up to his unsteady feet.
He bolted up and wrapped his whole body around mine. “What are we doing?”
“Exactly what Charon wants us to,” I replied with as calm of a voice as I could muster at that moment. “Getting off the boat.”
Without giving him another second to doubt or question me, I let us fall forward with the next rock of the boat. We only hold on to one another as we toppled over the side and into the depths of the black water.
Our bodies broke apart the minute we slapped into the river. The impact felt as though we fell from fifty feet into a belly flop. The sensation woke up my system. Disorientation dominated my thoughts. I couldn’t tell up from down or left fro
m right. My memory was bogged down by the lifelike scenes from before, and I wasn’t sure of my reality anymore.
My lungs shriveled inside my rib cage, tightening every muscle. My throat refused to expand, to allow any additional air. I was paralyzed. I no longer had control over my body. The freezing water burned against my skin, and I struggled to find a functioning thought through the cold. Finally, my survival instincts kicked into gear, and I swam for the surface.
My face broke through, and I gasped for air. After my brain regained some oxygen, I could think coherently. My first thought was of Ansel. I twirled in the still water for my boyfriend and found that he was only a few feet away, swimming for me.
“Cheyenne!” he called out as he approached me. He came closer, but we didn’t touch one another, using our arms to stay afloat in the surprisingly deep river. “What were you thinking?”
“It was either this or the Tunnel of Fear,” I explained, throwing out my free hand to gesture towards the darker of the two tunnels. The other one still held onto the helm, an annoying weight as I tried to stay above water. “I wasn’t about to go through that, were you? Especially since we were going to lose control of the boat either way.”
Ansel shook his head in response. His hard expression softened after he heard my explanation as to why I forced us both overboard.
“Well, now what?” Ansel asked, exasperation written all over his face.
“Let’s swim to shore and reassess,” I suggested, unable to think of anything else to do.
Ansel responded by flattening his body and swimming forward, just past me. I chanced a glance back over my shoulder as I watched the back of the boat receded into the Tunnel of Fear without us.
Good riddance, I thought as the metal boat disappeared from view.
Just as the ship was out of my line of view, the sound of rushing water filled my ears. It started as a dull rumble that quickly escalated into a tremendous roar. I turned my head towards the source of the noise and saw something potentially more terrifying than whatever I would have seen in the Tunnel of Fear.
