by C. S. Wilde
Christ, we’re so stupidly high.
Barbie cries from behind gritted teeth. It’s taking all the strength in her right arm to keep me from falling. “Barry, I can’t hold her for much longer!”
I’ll fall. I can’t explain how I know it, but I do. Sorry Barbie, but I won’t drag you with me.
Barbie yells, “Don’t you dare let go!”
“You hit the ground from this height, you turn to ashes,” Barry shouts.
That’s when we reach the top, crossing the wall in an arc.
Gravity, allied with the bike’s engine, pulls the bike faster than it does me. My grasp of Barbie weakens; her fingers slip over my palm, then my fingertips, and I’m out, falling behind them. The bike drives down a few meters ahead of me, and it does so straight and perfectly, as if it’s following an invisible road.
“Santana!” Barbie screams.
If I could make time stop right now, I would. There’s a freedom in falling that I can’t describe. It’s scary and liberating. For a nanosecond, I have no army of enlightened spirits chasing me, no guilt over the people I’ve failed, and no worries about the future. All I dream to do in this tiny gap in time is fall. But when I spot the ground below I snap back to reality. I can’t be obliviated, not before I see John one last time.
The scream stays trapped in my throat as the wind slaps me like a thousand punches. I’m falling faster and faster.
The bike swivels on its axis and turns 180 degrees upward, so that Barry propels up while I dive head first. We’ll crash, but since I’m not falling close to the wall, I’ll pass over them. Just as I dive past Barry, Barbie grabs my hands as the bike pivots downward. She swings me to her in a half circle as if we were professional trapeze artists, then pulls me closer. I clutch her as momentum breaks in and the bike starts driving down the wall.
The bike boosts on maddening acceleration. Forget about falling; if we reach the ground at this speed we’ll be smashed into a puddle. Right before we do though, the bike slows down and smoothly adjusts to a horizontal position, and we’re on our way, crossing the desert at maximum speed under the moonlight.
Amazing!
The Lummeni don’t follow, although their bellows linger in the background. Their sand-cake city gets smaller by the second.
“Why don’t they come after us?”
“Because they believe they’re not supposed to interfere,” Barry says. “They don’t enjoy venturing far from Lummenia.”
Like a warning bell, I remember John. The Queen’s help is off the table, so who’s going to save him?
Barry looks back at me. “I will.”
I remember there was something about Barry’s healing abilities being too raw.
“Santana,” Barry lets all hope out in a sigh. “He ain’t got no other option.”
***
The two suns strike the Wastelands with might. The willows that surround us should’ve burst into flames, but I have more pressing concerns: Irving’s sword is aimed at Barry’s neck.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
“Help.” I step forward and gently push the blade down.
Sunlight floods the entrance of the cave. An invisible fist squeezes my heart, because I can’t find John. “Where is he?”
Sweat drips from Irving’s forehead and his dark hair sticks to his skin. He doesn’t look at me for a long while, and when he finally does, it’s with wet eyes.
No. John can’t be gone, he can’t.
A croak comes from deep within the cave. John’s croak. I’m not too late! He’s still here.
Following the sounds, I spot a bare foot, the rest of its owner hidden behind some rocks. John rests on a bunch of old colored sheets with a small pile of leaves for a pillow. Irving has done his best to make him comfortable.
His baby-blue skin is infested with sick, navy-colored veins that pulse like living tattoos. He wheezes laboriously, and I fear that every breath could be his last. He widens a yellow-toothed smile when he sees me, and the skin in his face folds into cracks.
He’s lost so much weight…
I wrap him in my arms. Maybe, if I hold him strongly enough, he won’t vanish from existence. But he groans in pain, so I loosen my grip, panicking at the thought of hurting him.
Although the cave is shielded from direct sunlight, warm breezes still make their way in. It’s suffocating. I move a stray, sweaty lock of blond hair away from his face.
“Hey, you,” I say.
John wants to tell me something, but instead he coughs as if his lungs are about to come out. The cloth around his neck goes from brown to dark red, and it smells of rot.
He holds my hand against his chest, a loving look stamped in his eyes.
“You came,” he says in my mind, as he takes a long, labored breath. “I’m so glad you’re here before―”
I put a finger over his mouth, even though it’s his mind speaking. He gets the message.
A tear splashes over his face. It came from me. I wipe my cheeks, trying to sound reassuring. “You’ll be okay.”
He gazes at me with a pained look of disbelief. I gently wipe my tears from his cheeks with my thumb.
Barry comes closer and kneels by John’s side. “Hey, John.”
John frowns. “Who―”
“I’m Barry, nice to meet you.” Barry takes John’s hand and shakes it, but when he releases it, it plops over John’s chest.
“You held my hand a second ago,” I say. “Can you do that again?”
John contorts his face as if pulling a lot of strength. His hand doesn’t move.
“John, I ain’t gonna lie,” Barry’s words are filled with sorrow. “I’m no good at this. Chances are you’ll be obliviated.”
John nods.
“And it’s gonna hurt, a lot. You need to be strong, for you and her.” Barry looks at me with gloomy eyes.
John nods again, a hint of bravery behind his weak expression. He locks his gaze onto me.
“You must find the falls, no matter what. Promise me.”
I kiss his hand. “I will. Just focus on getting better, okay?”
Barry takes off John’s shirt, so his chest is bare. “I need you to leave, Santana.” He grabs a long, pointy knife, a needle, and a thin string, all hidden in some compartment in his boots.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna cut him open. It’s the only way I can directly patch his wounds with my essence.”
“But this knife isn’t sterilized, are you insane? And how will cutting him make things better?”
Someone hauls me to my feet and drags me away. It’s Irving. Fighting him, I try to break free, but he’s stupidly strong. “Barry! Don’t cut him! It’s not sterilized!” I bellow, tears coming out. “Please!”
My resistance seems to annoy Irving, because he grabs me by the waist and lifts me. I’m lying over his shoulder, his arms tightly around my legs.
He says, “Lass, let the man do what needs to be done.”
“Wait, Barry, let me talk to him!” But Barry ignores my plea. “John! I lov—”
Barry raises the knife and it shines against the sunlight as it comes down. John’s howl echoes throughout the cave, sinking into my bones and burning my eardrums.
Irving drops me by the entrance. I curl up against the wall, hands over my ears as I rock back and forth. The screams still make it through. I can’t keep hearing them; it’s too painful.
“The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout,” I chant to muffle the screams. “D-down came the rain and washed the spider out.”
Suddenly I’m five, and Mother is singing along while finger-playing the lyrics. This is the only good memory I have of her, but her hair is covering her face. A gimmick from my mind, probably because I don’t remember what she looked like. She died when I was young, and I refused to see the pictures Dad tried to show me. I do remember her mad eyes and smile, her ebony hair, and her white nightgown, but that’s pretty much it. And they’re not a part of good memories
like this one.
Mother sings the whole song with me, again and again, with John’s screams echoing in the background. After an eternity, his howls fade until one last wail escapes. Then nothing.
I stand up as the black hole that consumes me from the inside sucks me entirely. I try to speak but there’s a knot in my throat that suffocates me with the thought of losing John.
“Sit the fuck back down!” Barry shouts without turning. Bent over John, his hands still work frantically.
A burst of silver light suddenly floods the back of the cave, turning Barry to a silhouette. I think the light comes from his hands.
At the entrance of the cave, Irving’s dried tracks of tears fill with new ones, while Barbie keeps her back to us, staring at the drooping blue trees. My legs cave in and I drop to the ground, hopeless. I’ve never loved, needed, wanted someone as much as I do John. How am I supposed to live knowing that he’s gone, really gone?
Another eternity follows until Barry stretches his back. His hands are painted red. A cry simmers in my throat but I remember that blood is good. Blood means no ashes. No ashes mean John still exists.
Barry wearily walks to us and steps under the sunlight at the entrance. His black clothes are splattered with blood, his bare chest solid red. My heart shrinks because all that blood came from John.
“He needs a couple of days to recover,” he says.
“He’ll be okay?” I jump to my feet.
Barry nods, and before I know it, I’m wrapping him in a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I’m shivering all over, face wet with tears. Barry pats my back, waiting for me to calm down. When I do, he says, “It’s okay, bitch. He’s your Evangeline.”
Irving arches a brow, but he can’t stop smiling. “Bitch?”
Barbie chuckles as she stands up. “It’s how he shows affection.” She turns to us, relief stamped on her face. “So, Barry, will you be joining us?”
He steps away from our embrace and puts both hands on my shoulders. He looks at my blood-smudged shirt, then back at his own red hands.
“No. I’m going back.”
“What?” I snap. “They’ll kill you!”
“Santana, that woman is gonna drag us all to Hell. If that happens, I’ll never see my Evangeline again.” He lets out a rueful smile. “Can’t let that happen, can I?”
“You’re starting a revolution, then.” Barbie looks genuinely interested, her eyes sparkling. “But you’re just one.”
Barry lifts his index finger, trying to look wise. “One and a Wrath.”
He walks out of the cave, chest puffed up as sunlight and heat assault him. Even covered in blood and sweat, Barry looks like the proverbial chosen one in a moment of glory.
“Now where can I find a stream around here?” He glances down at his bare torso and the red smudges all over it. “It’s fucking hot and I really need a bath.”
After Barry is clean and his clothes are washed and dry, he returns to say good-bye. I hug him for one last time, and realize how hard it is to let go.
“You play tough, but you real sensitive, you know that?” His embrace doesn’t wane, so I know this is hard on him too. I suck in a deep breath and end the hug, wiping the corner of my eyes.
“Promise me you won’t get yourself killed,” I say.
“Only if you promise me the same.” He eyes Barbie and the back of the cave, where John is. “You’ve got some great friends in Death, but you gotta choose Life, understand? No matter how hard it seems.”
I stare at the floor, surprised by his words. How deep did he link with me?
“Santana?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Of course I will.”
He lifts one skeptical eyebrow, but Irving and Barbie step in. Barbie hugs Barry and pats his back, wishing him good luck.
“I wish I could join you,” she says, then winks at me. “But I need to take care of this one for now.”
He nods with a smile. “Yeah, but you should drop by once she’s safe. A badass like you is always welcome.”
“Then I’ll see you soon.” She taps his back one last time before she gives Irving the chance to step in and shake Barry’s hand, thanking him for saving John’s life.
After that, Barry hops on the bike and points his finger at me. “Remember, bitch: you got to live.” The motor growls and Barry speeds through the woods until he’s nothing but a memory.
I hope I’ll see him again, this man I owe the world to, the one true enlightened spirit—along with Molly—in this godforsaken land. But it’s hard to keep my hopes up, when I remember the size of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
27
The front door is gaped open. Maybe Mom forgot to lock it before going to the market; it has happened before. Sometimes Mommy has her head on the moon.
I fix a pink backpack over my shoulder and push the door with my little hand. “Mom?”
A soulless silence replies.
Closing the door behind me, I scan the living room, then the kitchen and the dining room. “Moooom?”
Oh no! Maybe the house has been robbed! But everything is so neat and tidy…Wait, Mom’s room! She might be sleeping!
I walk upstairs, one careful step at a time. “Mommy?”
The bedroom door is half-open, the bed made and empty. That’s strange. Usually the bed is a scrambled mess—Mommy is not the most organized of people, at least that’s what Aunt Shelly used to say. Auntie rarely comes by to visit anymore.
I push the bathroom door and there’s Mommy, taking a bath. Her dark hair covers her face. She probably fell asleep, my silly mommy.
“Mommy, wake up.”
Her skin is pale as milk, a contrast to the strawberry-red water in the bathtub.
We’re in the living room now, and I have no idea how we got here. I’m not a child anymore, I’m the full-grown me. Mother is awake and stands ahead. Her head trembles nervously, that familiar mad smile on her lips. She raises her wrists in the manner of a cat proudly showing caught prey. Blood spills out of the gaping wounds.
“Mommy saved you, baby.”
A scream rips my throat, but suddenly it’s night, and I’m in a silver-blue forest filled with drooping willows. Mother is nowhere to be seen.
John stands on top of a hill, his back to me. I climb and climb, sometimes tripping because of the eerie fog that hides the floor, but the distance between us remains the same.
“John!” I cry. “I can’t reach you!”
He doesn’t turn to me when he says, “You never will.”
Now I’m standing in the dark, alone. It’s cold and a cloud comes out of my mouth when I exhale. “Hello?”
No answer.
“Hello! Anyone?”
“Hello, puppy.” The rough voice comes from behind. Ice runs down my spine.
I turn to Red Seth, who stares back at me with irises the color of blood. His skin is paper white, and he’s so thin his cheeks are inward. Maybe I’m wrong, but he looks creepier than ever.
“John!” I yell.
Red Seth lets out a tiny grin. “He can’t help you.”
The cold slips through my skin and lodges in my lungs. I’m alone in the dark with the bogeyman, but I have to focus. Red Seth has his hands behind his back. My acting teacher once said this shows that a person is open to talk. Those classes paid off in my court performances and I hope they pay off now. I lift my fists just in case.
Red Seth chuckles. “We’re both dreaming, even though sleeping became pointless to me a long while ago.”
“So?”
“I can’t hurt you in a dream, pup.”
I drop my defense slightly. “Spirits can dream?”
“Only when they sleep.” Red Seth widens a thin smile too big for his face. “And sleeping is for the weak.”
Gathering all my courage, I raise my fists again. “Bite me.”
There must be a reason for him being here, other than small talk. Maybe slipping into my head is his way of tracking me!
He frowns. “Through a dream? What nonsense! My men are looking for you, though. The Wastelands talk to Shades much like a song playing in the back of their minds. All they need to do is fix on a goal.”
I step back. Close…Far…I’ve heard the Wastelands song when I was looking for the Lummeni fortress. The song that led me to where I wanted to be. Now Red Seth’s Shades are doing the same with me. I picture a legion of blue-skinned monsters, sniffing the desert like hunting hounds. I have no way out; they will find me, no matter where I go. Despair fills my body, makes me hollow. After all we went through, this is how it ends?
“Leave me alone!”
Red Seth shrugs. Of course he won’t.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I bellow.
Bad move. I must maintain control, no matter how scared and hopeless I may feel.
He cocks his head to the side. “You really don’t know, do you?” He waits for me to get it, but when he sees I have no clue, he continues. “It’s amazing how you resemble that bitch mother of yours. When I saw you, I knew it was a sign.”
Icy fingers wrap around my chest. “You knew my mother?”
“Know is a strong word. She took something from me.” He grins. “And now you’ll get the punishment.”
Mother was here. Cold drops of sweat slide from my forehead and I swallow dry. “Where is she?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
The words bursts out of their own will, “Stop lying you fucking asshole! Where is she?”
He laughs, clearly amused at the effect he has on me. “Her location isn’t my problem, not yours either, pup.” His finger runs slowly from the top of his neck to his collarbone. “Can’t wait to do anything I want with your…physique.”
I close my eyes in disgust. “You’re not getting anywhere near my body.”
“We’ll see about that.” He walks to me and I step back. “Not going to harm you, puppy.”
He extends his hand inches away from my forehead. He wants to show me something, and maybe I’m a fool for believing he can’t harm me in a dream, but what if it’s something about Mother? I just…I need to know.
I lean forward and now I’m on top of a hill, staring down at endless sterile grounds. Thousands of blue figures fill the landscape, milling around in a gigantic camp. Some Shades gather supplies, others fight with swords, and others ride plasma horses. What a blasphemy, such beautiful creatures subjected to monsters…
