Worlds Between

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  I actually had a dream, even if it was running in an endless forest, Jeremy right on my heels. Stumbling on the uneven ground, I felt arms wrap around me from behind, crushing the air out of me.

  I bolted upright screaming. Wait. I’m sitting up?

  Still in my one-bedroom prison with daylight coming through the window, I stared at my rope-free arms and legs. Instinctively, I hugged my knees, wincing when my wrists bumped into each other. The ropes had left raw sores behind.

  Got to move. I shoved my legs over the side of the bed, but discovered even touching my feet against the ground sent waves of nausea through me. Teeth gritted, I forced myself to stand. I need to get out of here. I staggered across the floor, terrified by how weak I was. Was it just not eating or all the drugs? Thinking of those needles, I grabbed the door handle, praying the masked man wasn’t on the other side waiting. I exhaled in relief, seeing only trees and long grass.

  So, it was a cabin. Once early fall set in, many summer cabins in Durango remained empty all winter. I set out as fast as my legs would allow—a wobbly gait at best. Which way? I felt disoriented and lost. Recognizing some of the mountains, I tried to gauge where I was in relation to the highway. Saying a quick prayer, I made up my mind and headed to what I hoped was north. The longer I walked, the stronger my legs became, but the more painfully my head throbbed. After what felt like an hour, I sat down on the ground, smashing my head between my hands. The pain was excruciating; I was afraid my skull might actually split open.

  Have to keep moving. I pressed on. Five minutes later, I saw another cabin. I pounded on the door, but it too was vacant. So were the next four I found. Still, it comforted me cabins were appearing more frequently now. I must be getting close to the main highway. Wanting to find help, I began running but, within seconds, my body protested, lungs on fire. Gulping in deep breaths, I continued walking briskly.

  Wishing I were better at interpreting the sun’s position in the sky for time, I decided if it moved a few inches, it surely meant I’d been walking for hours. Exhausted and thirsty, I collapsed to the ground. I need just a few minutes. I curled into a ball, draping my arms across my eyes, trying to shield out the light and get some relief from the migraine. It felt like seconds later that I was back in those woods again—sprinting for my life.

  I heard Jeremy yelling, “We found her! We found Samantha!”

  Why’s he saying that? There was a chorus of voices shouting now. My head panged in response. Why are they so loud? Dogs were barking. Someone touched my shoulder. I jerked away, trying to sit up. My body felt glued to the ground though. I glanced up to see brown eyes gazing down at me.

  Where’s the mask? And then my mind caught up to all the details. I’m lying on the ground. He’s wearing an EMT jacket. I peered around at the people gathering closer. One of the dogs was trying to reach me, its tongue hanging out, as its owner pulled back on the leash.

  “The tip was good; we found her! Call her parents,” a voice yelled out from somewhere in the group. The man with brown eyes was leaning in. “Samantha, we’re here to help you. Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere? Can you understand me?”

  Too many questions. I tried to slur out words. Oh my gosh, I can’t talk! What was in those stupid shots? Am I permanently brain damaged? I shook my head and then nodded, hoping he understood.

  “We’re contacting your parents; they’ll be here soon. Can I put this blanket around you?”

  I realized then that I was shaking uncontrollably and nodded back at him. The man helped me sit up and cloaked me in a thick blanket. I reveled in its warmth.

  He held up a water bottle. “Do you think you can drink?”

  I nodded, and he gently lifted the bottle to my lips. I drank fast, too fast, and after a moment, I stopped. Turning to the side, I threw it all up. I tried to apologize, but the world was spinning. The man’s face kept going in circles before me; I closed my eyes.

  “We need to get you into the ambulance.” I forced my lids open to see the man with brown eyes had said it. “Can I help you stand up?”

  I nodded, and he pulled me up. It seemed effortless.

  He pointed toward the gurney approaching. “We need to get you up on that. Do you think you can stand?”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure my legs would hold. Every part of me was shaking. The two EMTs helped me up; the narrow bed felt stiff and cold to my bare legs. Hands were pushing me back. Dizzy, I didn’t resist. Then straps made their way across my stomach and sternum.

  “No!” I croaked as my hands shot out, ripping the binding out of the EMT’s hand.

  The man with brown eyes said, “It’s okay, just relax.”

  I struggled to sit up, but I ended up rolling off the side instead. Hands grabbed after me. Not another bed, no more ropes! There was a high-pitched screech, as the ground seemed to jump up at me. When my body smacked down, I registered it was my own manic screams I heard. The man with brown eyes was helping me up again.

  “It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’re going to be all right. No one’s going to hurt you now.” I wanted to believe him. “We won’t tie you down, okay?”

  I nodded and let the two EMTs help me up on to the gurney again.

  “We need to start an IV,” the brown-eyed man said, “You’re pretty dehydrated. Can you hold still?” The other EMT touched my arm as the brown-eyed man said, “Just a little prick—”

  Prick? I lost it, clawing the other EMT away. The brown-eyed man tried to calm me, but I panicked at the strong hands pulling me down on to the gurney. Both of my arms were pinned now. I felt the pinch in my arm and sobbed. He’s got me again!

  Brown eyes swam above me. “It’s ok, Samantha. You’re safe now.”

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  The Eye of Tanub

  by M.E. Cunningham

  It happened a year ago. It was real, and no one can tell me it wasn’t. Yeah, it sounds crazy, and if I hadn’t experienced it myself, I’d be the first in line to deliver me to the funny farm, which—funny you should ask—happened. But that’s a whole other story.

  I’ve learned not to talk about it. Not with my parents, not with my friends, and especially not my therapist, who suggested I write it all down in a book, so that’s what I’m doing. Like a journal, but not. It’s a story. A true story.

  The only person I can talk about it with is my younger brother, Zach, which is crazy, because if you’d known us before, you’d think we were mortal enemies. We couldn’t stand each other. Before.

  We are only a year apart in age, so you’d think we’d be close. But no way. We are polar opposites, and still are, but we learned things in Terratir… things that changed us forever.

  Zach. How do I describe him and not sound like a total snob? Okay. So maybe I am a snob. Was a snob. He thinks so, but… well… honestly… he was an idiot. A slob. A fat, insecure kid with a savior complex. He would come home from school on a daily basis with a black eye or a bruised-up body because he’d get into a fight that wasn’t his, and would duke it out with the school bully. A kid named Devon Taylor who just happened to worship me. But that’s a different story.

  Zach couldn’t stand to watch little kids get caught in Devon’s sights. He’d step in, take their beating, and become the hero. I watched a few of those fights, but I never stopped them. I never stopped Devon. When I look back, I don’t know why.

  At the time, I had other goals. I was going to be a model. I’d worked hard for it, counted every calorie, worked out every day. I had even put together a portfolio, which I’d been ready to submit, because I was almost sixteen, and we all know that’s the magic age for modeling.

  Anyway, it happened on a Saturday morning. Zach had just polished off at least six gargantuan pancakes, which my mother had said nothing about—as though she wanted to fatten him up—and Zach had gone up to his room. I’d eaten a poached egg and half of a grapefruit, watching my figure and all, and then I’d gone up to my room, opened the door, and
found my portfolio… scattered in tiny pieces all over the floor.

  Every page ripped. Shredded. Destroyed. Two years of work flushed down the toilet. There was no way to fix it, and no way to describe the pain in my heart when I saw it. Most of the pictures had been stored on my old laptop that had died six months before, so I no longer had them, and in that one moment I’d lost everything.

  I fell, shrieking, to my knees, tears of horrified surprise bursting in a torrent from my eyes. I scraped together the pictures, pulling them to me, none of them salvageable. Not one. Who could have done it? Who? There was only one person who hated me enough to destroy my dreams.

  Zachary. His name tasted like bile in my mouth.

  Racing to his room, I threw open his door, shocked at the force with which it hit the wall. Zach must have been stunned too, because he jerked around in surprise. He’d been sitting at his desk, the guts of his computer exposed, as though he’d been working on it.

  “You’re dead!” I sobbed, but it came out more like a croak. Humiliating. Especially in front of him. He sat there, staring, his eyes bulging; his jaw working like there wasn’t anything intelligent going to come out of that mouth.

  And then I lost it. Like a tiger pouncing, I launched myself at him, my claws extended. I was going to rip his throat out. He backpedaled in that stupid chair of his, but he wasn’t fast enough. I got to him before he could lumber out of the way. He did manage to shove me back though, and like a rag doll, I fell to the floor, snot running all over my face, mascara-smeared tears streaking my cheeks. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!”

  He hopped up, quicker than you’d imagine possible for someone his size, and stood over me. “Lauren, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “My portfolio. It’s ruined. All over my floor!” The heartbreak I felt couldn’t even be described, and I didn’t even care that Zach saw me crying. There was nothing more anyone could do to hurt me at that point.

  Zach stood before me, frozen, in what I can only assume was shock. “First of all, I didn’t touch your portfolio. It was probably Dingo. He ruined my science project just last week. And second, you hurt everyone around you, Lauren, and what goes around, comes around.” His eyes were hard, glinting with anger and something else… something I didn’t care to figure out back then.

  How could he even think that? I didn’t hurt anyone. I was nice to everyone and believe me, it was super hard to hold my tongue at times. I knew as well as he did that Dingo was locked up in the back yard, and hadn’t done a dang thing to my portfolio. And that was when I noticed it. Tiny red lights dancing on the walls of his room, refracted from… from what? I searched the room and saw it lying on his nightstand by the bed.

  A medallion. Gilded, with a giant ruby—like a monster pupil—in the center, staring straight up at the ceiling. And then I knew what I could do to get even for all the pain and heartache my stupid brother had caused. I could snatch that hulking gold necklace and keep it for myself as a consolation prize.

  We leaped at the same time, reaching simultaneously, but Zach was a hair closer. Just a hair, and the chain of the medallion rolled, like magic, over his finger. My nails dug into his T-shirt, because I hadn’t lost yet, and I tried to pull him back.

  And that was when it happened. That was when this story really began, and our lives changed.

  Forever.

  In the split second between me grabbing Zach’s shirt and his clenching the medallion in his fist, a light flashed. And I mean blindingly bright. Like lightning. And it filled the room, filled us. I felt the charge, as though I’d stuck my finger into a socket and defibrillated myself. The pain—unbearable for at least five seconds—coursed through me. Then tornado-like winds whipped past my face, blowing my waist-long, gorgeous blonde hair all around us.

  And then we were falling.

  Fast.

  I could barely open my eyes, and Zach’s cheeks were billowing out like a blowfish’s. I would have laughed if I could have. And then the ground appeared. And I mean… it just appeared. Out of nowhere. I kid you not.

  It rushed up toward us, my screams following us through the air. And just when I knew it was all over, I threw my arms in front of my face, hoping to protect one part of my body, so I’d at least be identifiable, and hopefully have an open-casket funeral.

  But I did not slam into the ground and break into a million pieces. Don’t get me wrong. I hit the ground all right, but I bounced. Like on a trampoline. Trampoline grass. Yeah, you heard me right. I bounced, flying back into the air, my arms flailing wildly as I tried to regain my balance.

  Zach, on the other hand, immediately figured it out and actually started jumping, propelling himself into the air on purpose. With each jump he made, it was harder for me to gain my footing.

  I managed to crawl to a firmer spot where I sat, stunned, trying to catch my breath. Once Zach stopped bouncing, he opened his hand and, sure enough, that stupid pendant was still there, smoking in his palm. He glanced up at me, his eyes wide and staring. There wasn’t even a burn mark on his skin. As though it were a sacred artifact, requiring reverence, he placed the pendant around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt.

  I shook my head. Who cared? Not me. I didn’t want that dumb necklace anymore anyway. I had a feeling it might be responsible for the electric shock I’d experienced. I didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole.

  I stood up and brushed myself off, looking around. I had no idea where we were. We certainly weren’t in Kansas anymore. We were in a jungle. Or the woods. Or a combination of the two. Thick-trunked trees were scattered everywhere, moss hanging from their outstretched branches like tired, old women carrying their veils in the still, hot air. Humidity coated my arms and curled my hair around my cheeks. I brushed it back, tucking the sticky strands behind my ears.

  “Holy cow!” Zach said, mesmerized at the scene. He turned in a circle, his T-shirt soon soaked with sweat.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t. Well, I’m not sticking around. I’m getting out of here.”

  Zach turned around in surprise, his arms stretched out, with a frown creasing his brow. “But why? This place is awesome!”

  Now, remember, Zach was only fourteen. Anything crazy or otherworldly was fascinating to him, and if he got run over by a Mack truck, he’d think he was on an adventure when he woke up in the hospital.

  “Don’t you want to explore first?” he asked, not in any sort of hurry. “These woods are so beautiful, mysterious, and… and magical.”

  That was enough for me. I turned and started trudging up the hill. I could tell there was a path of some sort just ahead, and in about five seconds, I would be on it, going home. I had plans for today, and they didn’t include hiking in the woods. I was going to the mall with my friends. And maybe to the movies, too.

  The thought had crossed my mind that when I got that terrible electric shock it had knocked me out and, right at this moment, I was really lying unconscious, on Zach’s filthy bedroom floor. Hopefully, our mother would soon find us and call an ambulance.

  Until that time though, I had to assume this experience was real, because it sure felt real. It did not feel like I was dreaming. And I should know. I always remembered my dreams. And never once had they been like this. With real sweat or bouncy grass.

  I made it to the path, and Zach followed not far behind, mumbling about how awesome this place was, how familiar it felt, how it was a new and exciting adventure, and why the crap had his stupid older sister come along to ruin it?

  At this point, I stopped and turned around, looking at him hard in the eyes, so he’d know I was serious. “I’ve just about had it, Zach. Shut the crap up.”

  He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were trained down into a verdant valley to my right, where green grass sprawled, surrounded by a thick veil of trees. At the far end was a cave opening. Huge, gorilla-like beasts
foraged through the thick brush, looking for food. They were giant Chewbaccas, milling around in assorted colors. Some with thick, reddish-brown fur, some with black, and a couple were snowy-white. The one thing they did have in common was that they were huge.

  “What are those?” I asked in disgust. “They don’t look… normal.” And I could smell them from where we stood. Also not normal.

  Zach watched them for a moment in openmouthed surprise. “You know, there’s a place I know of… with creatures like that.”

  “Oh, really? And where would that be, Einstein?” I couldn’t help it. He was acting so stupid, and it was irritating. I vowed not to say another mean thing, because I didn’t like being rude… okay, so maybe Zach was right. Maybe I was a snob, but everyone knows how stupid little brothers can be…

  “There’s this game I play,” he said finally. “And I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t looking right at them, but… but those things look like… like… hilda beasts… from my game.” He turned to look at me, hesitant, like he knew I’d say something horrid or cruel.

  I regarded him, my arms crossed over my chest, doing everything in my power to not say what was on the tip of my tongue. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no such thing as hilda beasts, and I’d know. I actually study. Unlike some people I know.”

  Okay, so it was rude, but I could have said something worse, and like I said earlier, I used to be a snob. I’m not anymore. Just let me finish the dang story.

  “Well, I have seen them before while playing my game,” he mumbled, walking away.

  I shook my head and stared off into the distance, momentarily hypnotized. “This isn’t your game. This place is real… I think.” And somehow, I knew it was. I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t unconscious. No matter how much I would have rather been. Somehow, something was happening to us, and we really were on a new and exciting adventure, but I wasn’t about to admit it at that point. To anyone. Especially Zach.