The Fandom Rising

by Anna Day

  ‘I ate a rat,’ I tell my bedside rug.

  I see the Duplicates, so clear in my mind’s eye, the space where almost-Willow’s legs should have been. I see a scythe, raised high and glinting in the sun. Nate nearly lost his hands. I rotate my own wrists, seeing my veins as if for the first time. I feel the scratch of the twigs on my skin as I climbed that bastard tree, see bronzed limbs wrapped together – Alice slept with Willow. I knew she’d betrayed me. I see the cerise light of the Meat House, inhale the scent of roasting flesh, caught in the blaze of a Gem helicopter. And I hear the unforgiving bleat of the flatline, Nate bleeding out on my lap, his taupe eyes gazing at the stars. The bullet wound. I always said there was something special about that scar. I touch my stomach, the place where Nate was shot, and tears spill down my face. Suddenly, I can feel those twisting metal tentacles wrenching me from the river. I met President Stoneback. He told me about the infinite loop. The Fandom.

  ‘Sweet Jesus,’ I whisper. ‘The Fandom. The collective conscious. They made it real.’

  I stood on the gallows with a noose around my neck.

  ‘I love you too,’ I whisper to my bedroom walls, my fingers grazing my split-heart necklace. Alice sacrificed everything for me.

  And then I fell.

  I died.

  My eyes fall upon the framed cover of The Gallows Song. It all makes perfect sense. Baba brought me into their universe so I would return to ours and write a pro-Imp sequel, breaking the loop and allowing the Imps to prevail. I start to laugh, only vaguely aware of how unhinged I must look, kneeling on my carpet, snot pouring from my nose, chuckling to myself.

  But I don’t care. Because if the Fandom created an alternate universe, if The Gallows Dance is real, then everything Alice and I wrote in The Gallows Song is real too.

  I wrap my arms around myself, afraid to let myself believe in case I’m wrong.

  Somewhere far, far away, my little brother is awake and well.

  4

  ALICE

  All the way home, her words play in my head. You’ve betrayed me before. What did she mean? We’ve both done some shit in the past, when we were younger and figuring stuff out, but nothing which left a scar. Nothing I expected to be thrown at me years later. And I’ve never betrayed her. I’ve never sold her out, tweeted her biggest secret or stolen her boyfriend.

  I walk up the drive. My house always manages to look hard and blockish in the sun. It looks way better in the winter, maybe because it’s used to cold temperatures. Speaking of which, Mum lounges in the kitchen, magazine propped open against a bottle of fizz. It’s early to be drinking, even for her. She’s wearing a Calvin Klein shirt-dress and she’s curled her hair. She looks lovely. And suddenly, I’m so proud of being her Mini-me, it makes my chest sting.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, not looking up.

  ‘Hey,’ I reply.

  ‘Your father’s working late so I’ve ordered in sushi.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, grabbing a juice from the fridge.

  She scowls at the glass in my hand. I’m about to get another lecture about sugar, or maybe it’s fruit acids this time, but the lavender material poking out of my handbag saves me. She has a sixth sense when it comes to shopping.

  ‘Buy anything nice?’ she asks.

  I shrug, pretending to be all casual. ‘Only your birthday present.’

  ‘Please tell me it isn’t clothes. You always get my size wrong.’

  A fake smile erupts across my face. ‘No, no. Course not.’ I down my juice. Then pour a second glass and down that too, but I still can’t shift that bitter taste.

  ‘Alice? Are you OK?’ Mum asks.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look fine.’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’

  I’ve discovered if I say it enough, I start to believe it. And I think, because I look fine, people just accept it. Well, of course she’s fine. She’s wearing Gucci and she’s clearly exfoliated.

  Well, I’m not fine. Not today. Today, I feel like I’ve been turned inside out.

  First Violet, then this.

  I run upstairs and stuff the dress in the bin.

  I wake to the ping of my phone. Violet’s name lights up the screen. My head thrums with relief. I open up her message, still blinking the sleep from my eyes.

  Emergency meeting, 9 a.m., Frank’s

  cafe x

  There’s a kiss. Praise the Lord, there’s a kiss. I message back immediately.

  If I haul my ass out of bed, will you

  forgive me for being such a dick

  about the contract? x

  My nail taps impatiently against the screen, counting the milliseconds before she replies with two messages seconds apart.

  No, but I’ll buy you a coffee x

  Though I can’t promise not to spit in it

  Katie is next to jump on the group chat in her own inimitable style:

  You’ve just woken me up, dick

  cheese!

  I bite my lip, typing out the words: When did I betray you? My finger hovers over the send button. But I’m too scared to start picking. That scab is holding back a flood of something terrifying, I just know it. I delete the message, suddenly feeling very fragile.

  I pull on a pair of jeans and apply my favourite red lipstick, praying it will awaken the warrior inside. It doesn’t, so I creep downstairs. The fear of waking my parents stops me using the bathroom; I can’t face them this early. I grab my bag, not even pausing for a quick juice. I’m about to pull on my heels when Mum appears at the top of the stairs, wrapped in her silk kimono. Dammit.

  ‘Where you off to so early?’ she asks.

  ‘I’m meeting Violet and Katie for breakfast.’ I fiddle with my shoes, which have no laces or buckles, so it’s a fairly obvious avoidance tactic.

  She pads down the stairs towards me, her pedicured feet coming into view. ‘I thought you girls only did brunch?’

  I look up and fix a smile on my face. ‘We’re practising for uni. We can’t lie in for ever.’

  ‘Nude face and red lipstick?’ she says.

  I reply with a grunt.

  ‘Do you want a quick cappuccino before you go?’ she asks. ‘I can fire up the machine.’

  Mum rarely fixes coffee. Maybe she found the lavender dress stuffed in the bathroom bin like I hoped she would. The temptation to accept coffee and have her actually mother me is overwhelming, but after the bizarre row with Violet, her accusation of betrayal, I want to be on time for a change. ‘No thanks, Mum, I’ll get one there.’

  She shrugs, and heads back to her room without so much as a goodbye.

  I arrive at Frank’s place at nine. We often come here before visiting Nate, pooling our courage and filling up on coffee. Violet stands at the counter ordering our drinks. She looks wired, like she’s already had several hits of caffeine. She’s wearing her split-heart necklace though, so she must have forgiven me.

  I stand beside her, too scared to touch her shoulder like I normally would. ‘Hey,’ I say.

  She sees me and smiles. ‘Hey.’ Her hair is wild and she obviously hasn’t showered either, but I haven’t seen her looking this full of life in an age. I really want to hug her, but I’m afraid she’ll push me away.

  ‘Sorry about the contract,’ I say. ‘I should have told you, I know. It’s just you were so bummed about Nate not waking up.’ My eyes flick to the café floor as the thought of Nate lying in hospital simmers in my head. ‘We all were.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry too. I know you would never write that book without me, I was just . . . really mad.’

  I grin. ‘You totally hulked out on me.’

  She makes a silly growling noise – her best Hulk impression. It makes me laugh. She looks less Carrie and more angry cockapoo. I want to ask her about the betrayal thing, but things are going well and I don’t want to rock the boat.

  ‘What’s so important?’ I ask as we settle into a corner booth.

  She sits opposite, straight-bac
ked and concerned. I can tell she’s bursting with it, but somehow manages to restrain herself. She swirls the froth of her cappuccino with a wooden stirrer, watching as the sprinkles turn to streaks. ‘I want to wait for Katie first.’

  ‘Don’t be a tit, you know I hate surprises.’

  ‘Katie first.’

  I can’t help the irritation as it buzzes through my veins. Before Katie arrived on the scene, Violet would never have made me wait. Right on cue, Katie walks through the door, her easy smile reaching across her face.

  She slides into the booth beside me. ‘What the Donald Duck, Vi? It’s nine in the morning. It’s like being back at school.’

  ‘Good morning to you too,’ Violet says, sliding a latte over to her.

  She sees it and sighs. ‘Thanks.’ She wriggles out of her cardigan and I notice two dark sweat patches under her arms. She’s obviously rushed to get here, braving the early commuters and dashing across London at silly o’clock. One thing we’ve always had in common; we both love Violet.

  ‘Now can you tell us?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, what’s the big emergency?’ Katie says. ‘We’re still going to visit Nate, yeah?’

  Violet nods. ‘I just have to tell you something first. Something big.’ She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, then just sits there, frozen and silent.

  ‘Violet? Have you had a stroke?’ I say, clicking my fingers in front of her face.

  Katie slurps her latte. ‘Yeah, stop stalling, woman. Alice is the designated drama queen in our trio.’ She winks at me and I can’t help but giggle.

  Violet shakes her head. ‘OK. But do you promise you won’t think I’m mad? Do you swear you’ll hear me out?’

  ‘Seriously, you’re killing us,’ I reply. What on earth could be so important? Is she about to pick the scab? I feel like the kid from The Shining, watching the lift doors . . . just waiting for the tsunami of blood.

  She takes a deep breath. ‘So it’s been over a year since we woke from our comas . . .’

  The word coma sounds in my head like an alarm. ‘We don’t talk about that,’ I snap.

  ‘It’s the secret rule,’ Katie says. ‘Don’t break the secret rule, Vi, or me and Alice will dump your ass and find another bestie.’ Her mouth smiles, but her eyes fill with panic.

  ‘But why don’t we talk about it?’ Violet pleads.

  The coffee turns into something acidic which I can’t swallow down. ‘Because it’s terrifying,’ I say. ‘We fell unconscious for a week for no medical reason.’ I drop my voice, the words painful in my throat. ‘What if it happens again?’

  Katie cradles her cup with both hands like she’s trying to comfort it. ‘And Nate, he’s still sleeping. It’s hardcore.’

  Violet leans forwards, an urgent look on her face. ‘It’s more than that though, isn’t it? I mean, yes it’s terrifying, but not just because we fell into comas, but because . . . because . . .’ She stares into her froth like the right words will suddenly appear, scrawled in chocolate sprinkles. ‘ . . . We weren’t really in comas.’

  Katie grabs her hand as if trying to silence her, causing her latte to tip and slop on to the table. She doesn’t seem to care. ‘Stop it, Violet, please.’

  I can’t hear this. My head is going to explode.

  But Violet doesn’t stop. ‘Do either of you ever have crazy dreams, or images which flash into your brain? I don’t just mean normal everyday stuff, I mean crazy stuff. Do you ever remember being . . . there.’ She whispers the last word.

  No, no, no. I can’t think about Comic-Con. I can’t think about those memories that gnaw at my dreams.

  ‘It’s a trauma response,’ Katie says, suddenly noticing the spillage. She bundles some napkins into the coffee pool. ‘My therapist told me. It’s normal after trauma to have strange dreams and flashbacks. Knowing you were in a coma can threaten your sense of safety. It can bring your mortality into sharp focus.’ She sounds like she’s quoting her therapist word for word, and she continues to mop, even though the table is now completely dry. ‘And we were at Comic-Con, filled with Gallows Dance stuff, we met Russell Jones and Julia Starling, of course The Gallows Dance was on our mind.’

  Violet slams her hand on the table. ‘So you dream of The Gallows Dance too?’

  Katie stops mopping but continues to stare at the table. ‘All the time.’

  Violet looks at me. ‘Alice?’

  I can’t hear this.

  ‘Alice?’ she repeats.

  ‘Yes,’ I croak. ‘I have strange dreams too. But Katie’s right. It’s a trauma response or something.’

  ‘No,’ Violet says, her face determined. ‘We were there. We were in The Gallows Dance.’

  Katie laughs – a hectic warble. ‘Don’t be such a twat-puffin.’

  I try and sound sure of myself. It takes everything I have. ‘Violet, The Gallows Dance is not real.’

  Violet leans forwards in her chair. ‘The old lady came to me last night in my dreams, she’s visited me before but I didn’t know who she was, well, maybe part of me did, but I was in denial like you. It was Baba, Baba from The Gallows Dance. She unlocked my memories. Seriously, it was like all those weird images suddenly made sense. When we were unconscious, we were in The Gallows Dance for a week, trying to put the story right so we could get home.’

  There’s a long pause. It’s like my body has shut down. My brain doesn’t work. I can’t hear this. I can’t think this. I glance at Katie, but she looks as freaked as me.

  It’s the strangest thing to do considering the situation, but my hands take over, rummaging through my handbag and finding my lipstick. I click open my favourite compact, the one with the dragonfly on the back, and slowly reapply. By the time I’ve finished, my hands are steady and my face feels like it belongs to me again. I slip my things back into my bag and manage a sip of my drink. ‘Jesus, Violet,’ I eventually say. ‘Exactly how much coffee did you drink before we got here?’

  Katie forces a laugh. ‘It’s not the coffee I’m worried about. It’s what’s in the sugar bowl.’

  Violet slumps back in her chair, tears welling in her eyes. ‘You know I’m right, you just don’t want to sound crazy, or think about how close we came to getting stuck there. But I remember it all. Everything. Katie, you befriended Thorn; at first we thought he fancied you because you look like Ruth, but then you figured out that Ruth was pregnant when she died, and you reminded Thorn of their unborn child. You saved my life, you were so brave.’ Tears begin to roll down her face. ‘And Alice, you shagged Willow and nearly threw the whole canon off track. That’s what I meant when I said you betrayed me, I just didn’t know it at the time.’

  That’s the betrayal? That’s what she meant? My stomach flips and my ears start to ring. If I had a safety word, I would be screaming it right about now. But instead I laugh, muttering, ‘I think I might remember if I shagged Willow.’

  Violet ignores me. ‘I was so mad at you, I started to think you’d gone to the dark side completely. But in the end, when Willow chickened out of saying his lines, you said them instead. It was such a beautiful moment, you were awesome.’

  Katie looks transfixed. ‘And what about you?’

  ‘I took Rose’s place,’ Violet says. ‘I became her. But I didn’t fall for Willow, I fell for Ash, the anti-prince.’

  ‘You hanged,’ Katie whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘I saw it. I was standing in a giant cage with some other Imps and you were on a stage with a rope around your neck. The hangman pulled the lever, and . . .’ She clasps Violet by the hand. ‘I watched you die.’

  Violet laughs with relief, that weird laugh people do when they’re still crying so they kind of blow tears everywhere. ‘Yes. That’s right. I had to complete the story so we could travel home.’

  Katie starts crying too, and I think we’re attracting some attention, laughing and crying and spilling our drinks. And suddenly, I’m not terrified, I’m angry. Not only is Violet talking about the thing we never talk about, K
atie is encouraging her. They’re not picking at the scab any more, they’re ripping open my flesh.

  I slam my hands on the table, my body sizzling with rage. ‘For Christ’s sake, that is enough. What you’re saying is simply ludicrous.’

  Katie wipes her eyes. ‘I don’t know, Alice. I sometimes dream about Thorn, and it just feels so real. We were in this strange, orange room together and—’

  ‘Yes, and I sometimes dream about Willow,’ I snap. ‘But it doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘Stop being so dismissive,’ Violet says, my anger clearly infecting her. ‘We fell into medically unexplained comas at exactly the same time, stayed unconscious for exactly the same length of time, and nobody knows why we woke up. That in itself sounds crazy, what I’m suggesting is only one step further.’

  ‘It’s more than a step. It’s a whopping great moon-leap,’ I reply.

  Katie studies her hands. ‘Yeah, Violet. And what about Nate. Why is he still asleep?’

  Violet falls quite for a moment, all the fight draining from her face. Eventually, she says, ‘You remember the scar on his abdomen?’

  We nod.

  ‘It’s a bullet wound.’

  It’s too much. I’m the kid from The Shining again, but this time, the lift doors have already opened and the wall of blood is gushing towards me. I rise to my feet, knocking the drinks and trying not to scream. ‘I can’t listen to any more of this shit.’ I dart through the tables, clumsy with anger, knocking into furniture and elbows.

  ‘Alice, please,’ Violet calls after me.

  I shove through the door. The air feels cool and fresh on my face. I suddenly wish I wasn’t wearing heels so I could just run and run and never hear those words again. The Gallows Dance is real.

  ‘Alice, wait,’ Violet blunders up behind me. ‘I’m telling you this for a reason. Baba told me we mustn’t write another sequel.’ She catches me up and grabs my arm, spinning me so I face her. ‘The Fandom in our world created their world. The power of the collective conscious. We created that utopia for a reason, what we wrote in The Gallows Song has happened for real. We freed the Imps. If we write another book, a dystopia the way Timothy wants, it’ll balls everything up for them. Don’t you get it?’