by C. S. Wilde
21
Barbie is extremely fast, and it’s hard to keep up. I’m thankful I have a bit of Shade in me so I’m not too far behind, but while I’m panting and tripping, she’s hopping like a gazelle.
I didn’t expect to last more than a day without a break, but I have. Much like the speed, this endurance must be linked with being a semi-Shade, but it’s fading quickly. My body aches everywhere, I’m thirsty, and my leg muscles are cramping. My lungs sting when air comes in.
“Barbie!” I bend over, trying to catch my breath. “I can’t go on!”
She couldn’t have heard me, she’s too far away. She looks like a stickwoman from here, but a split-second later, her nose is an inch from mine.
“You rest, he vanishes.” Her stare is still as rock, sharp as a blade.
She stands up and runs, disappearing from sight. I won’t lose her, though. I can smell the bittersweet scent oozing from her: sweat with a whiff of honey.
Taking a deep breath and standing straight, I move on slowly because every step echoes inside my immaterial bones. It hurts so bad I want to scream, but my fuel is the image of John, bloodied and unconscious. Finally running again, I forget the fact that my body is about to crumble and soon Barbie comes into view again.
“You don’t have legs,” Barbie shouts back from some feet away. “Pain is less once you understand this.”
“And because John doesn’t have a neck or a torso, he should be fine too?”
Barbie stops and shrugs. “Don’t know. Body of recent dead not like body of long dead. Recent dead are fragile, long dead not so much. John is powerful, but hasn’t been dead long enough.”
Finally reaching her, I say, “Longer than you have.”
Barbie nods. “I could not endure what he did. But we change, and so does our spirit-body. You see it now.” She taps my forehead. “It starts here.”
That made a bit of sense. When I fought the big Shade, everything was clearer, easier, as if my senses had been upgraded. It’s the reason I can smell Barbie and the sharp dryness of the desert right now. I’ve changed. But there was something else back at the willows…
“Barbie, as a Shade, do you have strange ideas?” I sound as insane as I feel. “I mean, do you have thoughts that don’t seem to come from you?”
She looks at me with curiosity. “No,” and waits for me to elaborate.
“I hated that Shade so much...” How can I put this lightly? “For a second, I wanted to smash his skull.”
She raises her nonexistent eyebrows. “It’s different for everyone, confusing. I lost some words. Not everyone does.” And with that, she moves on.
We keep walking for a long time. Dry, cracked dirt gives way to warm and yellow sand. The gloomy landscape merges into wavy orange dunes, and the clouds dissipate, showing a blue sky. The two suns strike Death with all their might, but gentle breezes keep the temperature bearable. I follow Barbie’s tracks and her scent, because she’s nowhere to be seen.
While walking, I remember what she told John back in the forest: “Go back to Shade.” So I shout into nothingness, “Barb! How did you know John had been a Shade?”
In a flash, Barbie is by my side. “We feel it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can’t define.” She scratches her head. “Just is. You can’t feel it?”
I look down at my baby-blue skin. “No. Not yet, at least.”
“Hope you don’t.” Barbie starts walking but when she realizes I’m not going anywhere, she stops.
“Barb, I can understand why I’m a Shade. I’ve made my share of mistakes…but John? He’s the most perfect man I’ve ever met.”
“No such thing as perfect man. Every woman knows. But first we survive, then think about that.” She bursts into laughter and wipes a tear from her backward eyes. “Survive, heh.” She looks at me and puts a hand over my shoulder. “Being Shade isn’t so bad. Not all Shades evil, just…lost. I’m Shade, am I not? Am I evil?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why worry?”
I nod, thanking her for the pep talk. She pats my shoulder and boosts forward.
We walk over a huge dune now. The sand on the crest blows like smoke in the wind. It’d be stupidly easy to fall from this height, especially with the strength of these wind gusts. My feet sink into the sand with every step, and I struggle to keep my balance. Looking down makes me wobbly, so I try to concentrate on what’s ahead.
My bones hurt more than before, but one false move and I’m facing a pretty bad fall. As I listen to my own breathing I notice an indistinct whisper repeating, Far. But there’s nothing around us, except dunes and a blue sky.
Barbie’s back comes into view and I speed up so that I’m walking behind her. “Are you hearing these whispers?”
“Forget about them.”
“But—”
She turns back and stares at me. “Forget.”
“Fine.” I lift my hands in surrender. “No need to go all full Shade on me.”
“You haven’t seen full Shade yet.” She smirks, moving on.
I wish Barbie would start babbling like when we were teenagers, but so much has happened since then. It’s too late to have my best friend back. Too late for a lot of things.
“Where did you learn to fight so well?” I ask.
“Instinct. Stronger when...” Barbie halts, wincing. “It’s stronger when you’re a Shade.”
Her language skills are returning and so is her hair. It has been growing slowly since we set off, and now it’s a shoulder-length blonde mane. This brings a smile to my face. When she notices it, her lips tremble into a broken twig of a grin.
“Silly PinkGurl,” she mutters.
As kids, Barbie and I loved Disney princesses, My Little Pony, Care Bears, you name it. If it was pink, we’d be all over it. Dad came up with the nickname ‘PinkGurlz,’ but we decided on the spelling. And it stuck. As teenagers, we’d sign our names as ‘PinkGurl’ with stylized handwriting, hearts, and all that jazz. In emails, we’d do the same, only more professionally—Ms. PinkGurl, or Pinkgurl Inc.
Barbie once signed an email as “The Extremely Stupid PinkGurl.” This was after she slept with my boyfriend at the time.
It’s so easy for me to remember us at seven, brushing our dolls’ hair under the afternoon sun, the orange gleam highlighting Barbie’s flickering strands. Not a worry in the world. And then I envision Barbie’s rotting corpse thrown somewhere in a ditch.
My best friend and the man I love are both dead. Is going back to Life the smartest decision? What will be waiting for me when I return? Late nights in the office, lonely dinners, clubbing? Maybe being dead would make me happier. But I don’t deserve happiness, do I? Kasey McCormick is dead because of me, John will be obliviated because of me too, and if I had remained friends with Barbie, she’d still be alive.
Barbie peers at me, trying to decipher my thoughts, but she doesn’t push for a link. “Spill it,” she says.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” My voice wavers. “If I had been there, you wouldn’t have died.”
She tilts her head. “It wasn’t your fault. Sorry for cheating on you.”
“Oh, Barb,” I wipe a tear away. “Ted was an asshole. I should’ve known. And you were going through a rough patch…You don’t have to apologize.”
“But I do.” And right here, on top of a dune in Purgatory, my dead best friend pulls me into a hug. “I missed you, Banana. I’m so, so sorry.”
I hang on, as if holding her tight could amend our entire past. This hug is an apology, a thank you, and it’s so much more. She’s crying, I’m crying, but I’m so glad. We’re the PinkGurlz again.
We stay like this for a while, deep in our silent apology, until finally we let go. She wipes away my tears, and I wipe hers too.
“Barb, I don’t know what I’d do if Red Seth had really killed you.”
A shadow falls over her face. “I didn’t know his name. Just that he’s made of dark things. He
cut my throat for fun. He knew I had been talking to someone I loved. He wanted you to watch.”
I shiver as I remember the red gash opening in her throat. “How can someone be so evil?”
“He’s not evil.” Barbie shakes her head. “He’s evilness.”
“You mean he’s the devil?”
“No.” She ponders. “He’s afraid of the devil. I saw it when he linked with me.”
“Wait, you linked with him? Like John linked with me?”
Barbie snorts. “Not sure what kind of linking you did, but spirits can link like the living speak. Much more effective but also more invasive. Now, move on,” she orders. “The more we talk the closer John gets to oblivion.”
“Barb, I just wish―”
She turns around and stretches her index finger to me. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to save me.”
Clearly there’s no arguing with her, so I nod, and then we’re running again.
I’ve taken countless steps so far, but it only takes one: one single false step, and I slip down the slope, rolling, mingling with the sand in a fall that doesn’t end. I flail my arms and legs everywhere, but the dune’s wall is too straight, so I keep rolling and bumping against it. Dizziness consumes me. I’m about to throw up when I finally slow down and splash against a small mound of sand.
The world spins for a while. I spit a mouthful of sand as I lift myself up. My whole body is breaded with grains.
Barbie arrives, gracefully surfing down the steep dune.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah, I―” A loud prehistoric growl reverberates some feet behind me.
Turning around, I expect a T. Rex, but instead, I see a huge cave closed with iron bars thicker than a grizzly. The nauseating smell of hot sulfur bursts inside my nostrils.
Claws with three bulky fingers grasp the bars, their sharp black nails the size of a person. Is it really a T. Rex? I can’t tell because the rest of the creature hides in darkness, but whatever is attached to those demonic hands has to be at least twenty feet tall.
Every cell in my soul-body orders me to run, but I can’t move. The creature shakes the bars, but they don’t budge, so I let out a relieved breath.
“Move along, people,” says a black man guarding the cave.
His head is wrapped in a black scarf decorated with silver swirls, falling against his back. His pants puff at the end, its patterns matching the scarf. His well-defined chest is bare and hairless. There’s a large scimitar tied around his waist.
“Where are we?” I ask.
Barbie grabs my hand, shaking her head. She doesn’t look the man in the eye.
The black man crosses his arms. “None of your business knowing where you are. Now move along.”
His soothing deep voice is a huge contradiction to his manners.
“Look, we need help.” I step toward him and drag Barbie, who still clutches my arm. “My friend will die if we don’t reach the Lummeni, but we have no idea where to find them. We’re running out of time.”
The man laughs. “Bitch, if only every Lummeni dropped all their shit to go rescue someone in need.”
“Wait, did you just call me a bitch?”
He shrugs. “My apologies. Do you prefer ho?”
I could punch him in the middle of his nose, but not now. I need him; John’s existence depends on it.
“Could you at least point us in the right direction?”
From the back of the cave, the beast roars a deformed cry that burns in the air. The ground shakes but maybe it’s me who’s trembling. The creature’s giant hands choke the bars again, and I hold my breath, praying that the bars don’t break. This thing must be a demon.
The black man rolls his eyes and stomps toward the cave. “You better shut up, you hear me?”
The beast cringes, whimpering like a five-year-old. At the same time, the whisper in the back of my head intones, Close.
22
“I’m watching you,” the black man says, forming a ‘V’ with his fingers and swinging it from his eyes to the demon.
This might be the most insane situation Death has thrown at me.
“Whatever that thing is,” I say, “it can’t understand you. It’s an animal.”
The black man turns back to me. “Trust me, he’s saying shit.”
Saying?
An overwhelming déjà vu strikes me as I approach the cave and stop by the black man’s side. This idea that I’ve seen the beast before comes in a wave and clings to me. Perhaps it’s because of all those dinosaurs in my school books, who knows?
“This is not a good idea,” Barbie says, but her protests turn into muffled words in the background.
The beast and I, we’re connected in some strange way, and it’s a scary and nauseating sensation. Maybe that’s because deep down, I’m also a monster. Maybe that’s our connection. “What happened to it?”
The man eyes me with one arched eyebrow. “None of your business.”
“Lassmichraus!” the beast demands.
“Why is it so angry?”
The black man shoots me an amused look. “You can’t create a link? You haven’t been dead for long have you?”
Pursing my lips, I explain that “I’m not dead.” Then I stare at him fixedly, showing off the light in my eyes.
He shakes his head, stepping one foot back. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Been asking myself the same question,” I shrug. “Red Seth wants to possess my body.”
“Fuck. He never gives up, does he?”
“Bitte,” the beast whines.
Linking with the creature is one of the worst possible ideas, but I need to know why this monster is so troubled, and mostly, why I’m so connected to it. I can’t explain why I need to know, I just do.
Closing my eyes, I try to remember how it felt when John linked with me. If I could reverse engineer the whole process…But I get nothing.
“Could you show me how to link with it?” I ask as politely as I can.
“I ain’t no mother fucking school teacher.” He crosses his arms. “Leave it alone, trust me.”
“Trust you?” I slam my hands on my waist and puff up my chest, hoping to look threatening. He mimics my move, and I realize he’s much taller than me, and his arms are twice as big as mine. I’m suddenly very aware of the scimitar around his waist.
“Just focus on your connection with the beast,” Barbie says from behind, loud enough to call our attention. “Let it come to you.”
The black man steps back, eyes on Barbie. “A Shade who knows what she’s talking about? That’s rare.”
I counter with, “Rarer than a foul-mouthed gangsta guarding a demon?”
He turns back to me and grins. “Sharp, aren’t we?”
“You have no idea.”
I turn to the cage and close my eyes. Just when I think I’m probably making a fool of myself, heat waves begin to flow between me and the beast. Some of those waves come from me, others from it. They mingle carefully, like dogs sniffing each other, and when I think they’ll finally reveal something, the waves snap back into their owners. My fingertips tingle, but other than that I feel pretty normal.
Opening my eyes, I grunt, “Verdammte Sheisse.”
The beast crackles as I clasp my hands over my mouth. What just happened?
“Nice girls shouldn’t say such bad words,” he says with a deep voice fit for a giant’s throat.
His huge legs with feline haunches are covered in orange scales as big as my eyes, and he’s so tall that the dark ceiling of the cave hides his upper body. He could end me with just a thought. A gut-punching fear swirls inside me, even though the beast is caged.
The black man was right, linking was a bad idea.
I guess it’s too late now. “W-was ist passiert mit dir?”
“What happened to me?” he breathes in angrily. His voice is a mix of growls and bellows. “Death. Injustice, shame!”
“Why?”
/> “Because of God! The devil!” His claw points to the black man, then to Barbie. “Because of him, her, everybody, and nobody!” He laughs a deep guttural sound made out of madness. “Because of you.”
With my attention fully locked on the beast, I whisper to the black man, “How strong are these bars?”
“Fucking strong,” he says.
Okay, good. Breathe, Santana. You can do this.
“What happened to you?” I insist.
“NOTHING! EVERYTHING!” Spittle rains down on me as he shakes the bars, but they hold strong. All my instincts tell me to get out of here, but I keep still.
The black man says from behind, “Some things are better left in the dark, you feel me?”
“No, I don’t fucking feel you.”
He steps forward so we’re side by side. “You don’t understand. This guy needs to accept his fate.”
“And what would that be?”
“Hell,” he says as if that’s nothing much.
“And what did he do to deserve Hell?”
“The question you should be asking yourself is why you care.” The black man nods to the cave.
The beast is gone. In its place is a ragged shell of a sobbing man, crouching and hiding behind the bars, which look gigantic against his fragile body. The creature and this poor soul cannot be one and the same.
I approach even though a warning rings at the back of my mind, begging me not to. “Are you okay?” I know it sounds stupid, but I have nothing else to say to this thing.
“Okay?” Chuckles replace his sobs. “I’m NEVER okay!”
He looks up at me and I fall back, bottom first to the ground. His yellow irises burn like the fire of the two suns above, but that’s not what scares the hell out of me. It’s the carefully trimmed mustache and the matching black comb-over that looks painted to his scalp.
I know this face. Everyone knows this face.
He stands up, prowling at me. “I’ll kill every soul in this goddamned place. I’m the only fair, the only just, the only victim, and the only punisher!” Hitler bangs his face against the bar and creates a loud cracking noise. He rocks his bruised head back, revealing the ugly, deep imprint of the bar. All of his face is turned to the inside.
