The Girl Who Wasn't There

by Nick Clausen

  The sky keeps changing, the scenes bleeding into each other, all of them trying to appear at the same time, and Andy notices he can call forth new ones, open up the ones he wants to look at. And he recognizes some of them.

  There is the Shire.

  There is Hogwarts.

  There is the space station of Solaris.

  He feels something different with each reality appearing in front of him, just like he did when he read the books.

  “Worlds behind worlds,” he speaks, not really sure where the words come from or what they mean.

  The girl in front of him doesn’t say anything; she simply hovers there.

  Andy forces himself to look away from the shifting universes above and fixes instead on the girl’s face, trying hard to see her for real.

  He remembers her now, at least partly. She’s Lisa Labowski, the dead girl who spoke to him through the books. And he desperately wants to see her face. But the traits keep drifting in and out, bleeding and flickering. He can only make out the auburn hair, the pale skin and the darkness around the eyes.

  For some strange reason, Andy feels a pang of fear. He doesn’t understand; why would the girl scare him? She is his friend, he knows that.

  “I wanted you to come in here so badly, Andy,” she says. “I wanted to be with you forever.”

  Lisa moves then, or maybe it’s the surroundings spinning again; either way she floats around him, disappearing from sight, speaking again from behind him.

  “I’ve been alone for so long. I just wanted someone to talk to.”

  Andy is stricken by a deep sadness. He wants to help Lisa, wants to make her happy again. He doesn’t want her to be all alone.

  “I’m here now,” he tells her, turning around, but not seeing the girl. “You’re not alone anymore. I’ll stay here with you.”

  “Help her, Andy,” a voice inside his mind tells him. “She needs you.”

  Andy turns and turns, trying to find Lisa, but he can’t. The fear comes creeping back. “I want to help you,” he says out loud. “I want to help you, Lisa! Where are you?”

  No answer from the girl.

  Andy is alone in the street.

  The universes above the library are still changing, displaying one marvelous scenery after the other, offering so many different moods and feelings, Andy’s eyes are drawn to them.

  “I’ll stay here with you,” he whispers. “We’ll live inside the books together.”

  He walks towards the library, moving his legs but not really using them. The glass doors of the library open, a warm orange glow welcoming him, dispelling the darkness around him and the fear in his heart.

  “Help her, Andy!” the voice tells him again.

  “I will,” Andy whispers and is about to step through the open doors and into the glow.

  Then suddenly, the dead girl is right in front of him, and for a split second, he sees her face clearly, and he can tell she really is very dead.

  Andy recoils, the fear overwhelming him for a moment, and he wants to flee, wants to throw himself into the library and the many worlds awaiting him, but Lisa Labowski blocks the way, and she’s suddenly grown very tall.

  “Help her, Andy!” she bellows, her voice shaking the world. “She needs you!”

  “I can’t!” Andy cries out, covering his ears and trying to look away. “I can’t help her! I’m scared!”

  He doesn’t want to look, but he can’t help it, and he sees the dead girl in front of him. She’s no longer towering over him, but has shrunk to her regular size again, the size of a thirteen-year-old girl.

  “We’re all scared, Andy,” Lisa tells him, her voice calm and dreamlike once more. “But the things we’re scared off are never real. Not really. They’re just stories.”

  The girl looks up, and Andy follows her gaze. The sky above them has stopped shifting and has come to rest showing a single scenery. It’s a dark forest, four men clad in old-fashioned hunter’s uniforms walking between the tall trees.

  “The wendigo,” Andy says. “The wendigo is real. It took Rebecca.”

  “Then you take her back,” Lisa tells him, her voice rising again as she moves closer, very close, close enough for Andy to feel a breath of cold air on his face.

  He shuts his eyes, waiting for Lisa to shout at him.

  But instead, he hears her voice very gently inside his mind: “It’s okay to be scared, Andy. You simply go on anyway.”

  And when Andy opens his eyes again, Lisa is floating backwards towards the library, the doors opening once more, the tempting orange glow surrounding her like a halo.

  “Don’t go,” Andy says, almost crying now. “Don’t go, Lisa.”

  “Go, Andy,” Lisa tells him. “Help her.”

  Then she sinks into the orange light and it swallows her up as the glass doors slide shut.

  Andy looks up at the sky still portraying the scene from The Wendigo. The men have now set up camp, and darkness is falling upon the forest. Andy remembers the story; he knows what comes next: very soon, the wendigo will come creeping and take one of them.

  “Not this time,” Andy says, and he turns away from the library and the breathtaking scenery.

  * * *

  Rebecca wakes up with only a vague notion of being inside a car. She can hear the rumble of the engine and the ga-dunks from the flat tire below. She can also smell motor oil and the stink of the creature.

  She has no idea how long she has been out, but her head feels heavy. There is almost complete darkness around her, but Rebecca is used to not seeing well, so she instinctively feels around with her hands. She finds someone lying next to her and she lets out a gasp as her memory comes rushing back.

  “Andy!”

  She bends over, finds his face and puts her ear close to his mouth, praying to hear him breathing. But he doesn’t. There is no air flowing in or out of Andy’s slightly open mouth.

  “Oh, Andy,” Rebecca moans, starting to cry. “Oh, Andy, wake up! Please, wake up!”

  She hugs him and shakes him, begs him again and again to wake up.

  And then, suddenly, he does. A single, faint breath.

  Rebecca stares at him, sensing only a dim, blurry outline of his face.

  “Not this time,” Andy whispers almost inaudibly. Then he takes another breath. He doesn’t open his eyes, though, and he’s still not conscious, but Rebecca doesn’t care; her heart is almost bursting with joy at the thought of Andy being alive!

  She hugs him again, gentler this time, so as to not hurt him. She just lies there next to him for several minutes, listening to him breathe, feeling his chest rise and fall, thanking God and heaven that Andy didn’t die when the creature ran him over, that she isn’t left alone with the creature.

  Then she hears something sniffing next to her ear, and she reaches out and feels Doris. She pulls the puppy into her arms and hugs her, too.

  She is so exhausted from being afraid that she begins to nod off, the soft rocking of the car almost lulling her to sleep, when it suddenly stops.

  Rebecca hears the rattling of the metal chain and knows exactly where they are. The van rolls on into the courtyard, and the creature shuts off the engine, then gets out to close the gate again.

  Rebecca stares at the crack where a faint daylight is coming in, feeling a dreadful sense of déjà vu from the day the creature caught her the first time.

  This time around, it also opens the back doors to the car, but it makes no attempt to hide. Its boney, still-naked frame is visible in the opening against the now dimly lit horizon. Before Rebecca has time to react, the creature reaches in and grabs Andy’s ankle.

  “No!” she cries, as the creature pulls Andy towards it.

  Rebecca throws herself on top of Andy, but the creature shoves her aside like it would an annoying fly over its dinner, and she bangs against the inside of the car, knocking the wind out of her.

  Somewhere, Doris begins to bark angrily.

  “Stop!” Rebecca croaks, fighting to get her
breath back. “Let go of him!”

  The creature doesn’t listen. It lifts Andy up like he weighs no more than a doll, then slings him over its shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Andy gives off a moan.

  Rebecca scrambles to her feet and throws herself at the open doors, but the creature steps aside, and Rebecca falls onto the gravel.

  “Come back!” she screams, her lungs working again. “Don’t you hurt him!”

  She sees the creature walk towards the garden, still carrying Andy, and she jumps up and runs after, ignoring the pain from her feet.

  She catches up with the creature and grabs Andy’s leg, but only manages to pull off his shoe. She grabs hold of Andy’s pantleg, but the creature is way too strong and simply drags Rebecca along as it strides across the wet lawn. Instead, Rebecca begins punching the creature in the back.

  “Stop it! Put him down!”

  The creature ignores her. It carries Andy to the place behind the hedge, then drops him on the ground. Andy moans again and rolls onto his back. He mutters something and looks like he’s trying to open his eyes.

  Rebecca throws herself down next to him, hardly noticing the creature stepping back.

  “Andy?” she says, her voice trembling. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

  “Becca?” he murmurs, sounding very weak. He opens his eyes halfway but can’t seem to get them to focus. “Where … are … we?”

  “We’re back at the—”

  Rebecca stops talking as she notices the creature coming back into view from the side. She turns her head and gasps.

  It only stepped away to pick up the shovel, which was lying a few feet away. Even in the dim morning light, Rebecca can see the blade shining as the creature raises the shovel high above its head.

  “Nooo!” Rebecca screams, and without thinking, she throws herself over Andy, readying herself for an intense pain in the back as the shovel will probably shatter her spine—but the pain never comes, because the shovel never comes.

  Rebecca glances up and sees the creature hesitate, the shovel still halfway raised.

  “Move aside,” it whispers hoarsely.

  “N … no,” Rebecca says, shaking her head defiantly. “You can’t hurt him.”

  “Move aside.”

  “No!”

  The creature bends over, grabs her by the neck and pulls her aside. But Rebecca scrambles back as soon as it lets go and raises the shovel again, once more covering Andy with her body.

  “Becca,” Andy mutters dully below her, apparently not really aware of what’s going on.

  “Don’t worry,” Rebecca tells him, her voice trembling. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t—”

  She’s interrupted as the creature grabs her again and flings her away. This time, she rolls around a couple of times, then jumps back up and half crawls, half lunges herself over Andy once more, a split-second before the creature can let the shovel fall.

  It gives off an irritated grunt, then throws down the shovel.

  Rebecca feels a brief, intense rush of victory.

  It gave up!

  But then the creature grabs her hard by the arm and drags her back towards the house. And Rebecca realizes what it intends: it’ll lock her in the house, then go back outside to kill Andy with no more interruptions. Then it’ll use the shovel to bury him next to the bones of Alice and the still-fresh grave of the old, British guy.

  Rebecca begins fighting to get free, heaving and kicking, but the creature is simply too strong. It’s like being dragged behind a car. She strikes it, kicks it, even tries to bite its hand, but it just pushes her head back using the free hand. All the while, it pulls her around the house, across the courtyard, into the house and up the stairs.

  Rebecca is very close to panic now. If the creature locks her in the room, it’s over; there will be nothing more she can do.

  She begins begging. “Stop! Please, stop! I’ll do anything! I’ll never run away ever again; I promise! Just please don’t hurt him!”

  No reaction from the creature; it just drags her down the hallway.

  “I’ll … I’ll stay here!” Rebecca says. “I’ll stay here for the rest of my life! I swear!”

  Still, no reaction. They reach the room, and the creature opens the door.

  Rebecca searches frantically for the right words. And then, just as the creature shoves her inside the room and is about to close the door, they come to her.

  “I’ll be Alice!”

  It’s like a magic formula.

  The creature freezes, the door halfway closed. It turns its head slowly to look at her.

  Rebecca breathes quickly, blinking in an effort to see more clearly. Through a veil of tears she can almost make out the expression on the creature’s face. It stares at her, waiting.

  “I’ll be Alice,” she repeats. “Forever. If you just don’t hurt him.”

  The creature looks at her for several seconds. The only sound is Rebecca’s own, ragged breathing.

  “Alice?” it finally whispers, a question in the word.

  “Yes,” Rebecca whispers back, nodding. “Yes, I’m Alice from now on.”

  Then something incredible happens. The creature simply turns and walks away, leaving the door open. Rebecca slips back out of the room, seeing the creature walk downstairs. She follows it. It goes outside and back to the garden.

  The morning is lighter now, the sun is peeking over the horizon, coloring the sky orange and purple.

  Rebecca follows the creature back to the place where they left Andy. Her brother has fainted again, lying on his side. Rebecca is ready to jump in and protect him again, if the creature still wants to hurt him. But somehow, she knows it won’t.

  It simply bends down, picks up Andy and walks back to the house. Rebecca follows at its heels, as it carries Andy upstairs and into the room next to Rebecca’s. It puts him down on the bed and turns to leave.

  As it passes by her, it briefly reaches out and strokes her cheek, the touch surprisingly tender. Rebecca is completely unprepared for the gesture and it’s all she can do not to recoil.

  “Alice,” the creature whispers, and the warmth in the voice is the most terrifying thing Rebecca has ever heard.

  Then it walks out of the room and leaves Andy and Rebecca alone.

  DAY 113

  Rebecca opens the door very carefully and slips inside the room.

  Her eyesight still hasn’t recovered from the last treatment, and her feet are still sore from the fresh burn wounds.

  To her surprise, the creature didn’t punish her particularly bad this time, despite her attempt to run away. Probably because she made a promise to be obedient from now on. To be Alice.

  Andy’s room is bathed in a golden evening light streaming in through the drawn curtains. Her eyes as usual go to the bed in the corner, and to her surprise, she sees Andy sitting up this time, wearing his glasses.

  “It’s just me,” she says, closing the door softly behind her. “I have your dinner.” She brings him the plate.

  Andy takes it, but just puts it on his lap. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters.

  “You need to begin eating.”

  “I can’t. My head hurts too bad.”

  “What about the pills? Are they still not helping?”

  “Not really, no.”

  Rebecca sits down next to Andy on the bed. It’s weird; part of her knows she has plenty of reason to be scared and worried, and yet she feels a lot safer now that Andy is here. He hasn’t been able to do anything but lie in bed, sleep, throw up and complain about the headache and his busted-up leg, but just having him here is a great comfort.

  She knows, of course, that even if Andy had been in fine shape and not hurt at all, he still wouldn’t have been able to help her escape. She has come to terms with that. She is Alice now—in a way, at least—and her last chance of getting away is gone, which means she will likely spend the rest of her life here. Still, the thought is much more bearable with Andy around. At least she won’t be alone anymor
e.

  “How are your feet coming along?” Andy asks.

  “Better. They still hurt, but I can walk again.”

  She made sure to bite down hard and not scream during the latest burning, because she knew Andy was in the room next to her and could hear if she cried out. She didn’t want to worry him.

  It’s amazing how quickly things have gone back to normal. The creature has taken up its usual routines and acts like nothing really happened.

  The only exception, really, is that Andy is here now. The creature doesn’t speak to him and never enters his room. It’s obvious it doesn’t care about him, but it doesn’t stop Rebecca in caring for him, either.

  So, she brings him food and helps him to the bathroom. She also asked the creature for painkillers to help with Andy’s headache—she did it with no real hope of getting it, she just couldn’t take Andy’s painful writhing anymore—but to her utter astonishment, the creature actually brought her some.

  There is one other thing that’s different now: the way the creature acts around Rebecca. It looks at her differently. At first, she couldn’t figure out what it meant, but now she gets it.

  There is affection in its voice now. Warmth.

  It touches her now and then, always briefly, always when she doesn’t expect it. Rebecca still has to control herself so as to not draw back—she fears it’ll enrage the creature if it sees her flinching away from its touch.

  But even though the creature seems to have warm feelings towards her now that she has agreed to become its Alice, she can still feel how closely it watches her. How those black eyes follow her around whenever her back is turned. How it keeps an eye on her every time she takes Doris outside to pee. How it checks her room discretely whenever it comes to say good night.

  Rebecca holds no illusions: The love the creature shows her is conditional. It’ll only treat her this way as long as she stays obedient. Just below the surface, a constant, unspoken threat lures.

  Rebecca is pretty sure this is her very last chance. If the creature catches her doing anything she shouldn’t, there will be no more leeway. It’ll kill both her and Andy and go find a new Alice.