Broken Fate

by Jennifer Derrick

  The sun is high in the sky by the time I feel well enough to move. My tears are baked onto my cheeks, and I am a bloody, sticky mess. I roll over slowly and get to my knees. That sends the world tilting on its axis, so I stay still for a minute until the dizziness passes.

  I finally make it to my feet and head toward the edge of the mountain where Thanatos tossed my pendant and bracelet. I comb through the vegetation while trying to keep myself from sliding down the mountain. A solid half hour of searching finally turns up both items stuck in some weeds. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I use some of the blood still seeping from my leg to lengthen the claymore. It’s cumbersome to carry through the wilderness, but if I find anyone on the growing list of people I want to kill, I’m going to be prepared.

  Properly armed now, I slip and slide down the mountainside in the general direction that Ker threw Alex’s body. There’s no way I’m leaving him down there for the buzzards and other carnivores to eat. I promised him that I would bury him in the graveyard at our church, and I’m keeping that promise.

  At one point, I slip and tumble down a particularly steep part of the mountain. I land in a patch of Cherokee roses, and the thorns poke fresh holes in my already-raw skin. I wince, expecting pain, but it’s strangely painless. I figure that everything else already hurts so badly that a few more pricks make no difference. I’ve become that old joke about how you get a broken leg to stop hurting—by breaking an arm. Ha-ha.

  My sword comes in handy as a brush cutter. I hack viciously at the overgrowth of vines and scrub as I make my way down the mountain, searching for any sign of Alex. Every few feet, I stop and look back up the mountain to make sure I’m still on the same line as the witch’s rock. Then I continue down, constantly checking to make certain that I don’t stray too far from that line.

  Finally, I find a patch of grass and weeds that’s been recently flattened. A few feet farther on, I find another one. These are the points where Alex’s body bounced. I wince at the image but keep moving, still tracking flattened patches of flora. The patches eventually become closer together until finally I’m following an unbroken path of mashed weeds and grass. Alex’s body stopped bouncing and simply rolled down the mountain from here on out.

  I find him lying at the bottom of the mountain, his body half in and half out of a stream flowing through the ravine. His legs are bent at odd angles, and it looks like his neck is broken. After I drag him from the water, I kneel down beside him and gently straighten his limbs so he at least doesn’t look so grotesque.

  The rest of him is unfixable. I can’t erase the damage done by the Keres and his trip down the mountain. He has a large hole in his chest where Ker ripped out his soul. There are cuts and slashes made by the Keres’ talons, and there are bite marks all over him.

  If I take his body back to his family, they are going to ask questions that I can’t answer. I don’t know what to do. His father needs to know what happened to his son, but this damage is too much for him to take in, even if I were free to explain things.

  I sit by the stream for a while, thinking and listening to the burble of the water as it flows down the mountain. No answers are forthcoming, so I finally give in to the waters’ call, strip off my disgusting clothes, and wade into the stream. It is cool but not frigid, and it feels wonderful on my cuts and aching muscles. In the center of the stream, the water is up to my neck. Dunking my head underneath a few times, I let the water refresh my body and mind. I drag my clothes into the water, too, and rinse them of the blood and dirt that cakes them.

  I finally climb out of the water and spread my clothes out on the bank to dry. Stretching out on the warm rocks beside Alex, I take his hand in mine and lie there, letting the sun warm my aching body. I close my eyes and try to relax, to think clearly.

  “So beautiful,” says a voice beside me.

  I smile without opening my eyes. “Alex,” I say.

  “You always were so beautiful,” he says.

  “I know I’m dreaming because you’re dead,” I say. “But please, stay with me.”

  “You’re not dreaming. I’m here.”

  I sit up and open my eyes, hope flaring for just a moment that the impossible has happened and Asclepius has stepped in after all. I’m brought back to reality in a hurry. It is Alex talking, and it isn’t. It’s his soul and only his soul. He stands beside his body, looking down at it with wonder and revulsion.

  “Alex.” I sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m dead,” he says, still looking at his broken body. “It’s not what I thought it would be. I thought I’d be in heaven or the Underworld by now. Somewhere. Instead, I’m here talking to you. I don’t feel dead. What happens now?”

  I stand and walk toward him. “You have to find the Underworld,” I say.

  “Isn’t Thanatos supposed to take me there? You said that’s what would happen.”

  “Thanatos is part of the reason you aren’t in the Underworld right now. He’s joined with the Keres and stopped helping humans. He won’t be coming for you.”

  “Then you’ll take me,” he says, sure that I’ll help him.

  I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t know how. Only Thanatos knows how to take someone to the Underworld.”

  Alex thinks for a moment. He seems to be trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together and failing.

  “What happened after you cut my lifeline? I can’t remember. When I came to, I was up there,” he points to Oz, “wandering around the witch’s castle. I don’t know how I got there. Then I saw you down here, so I followed you.” He shrugs.

  Well, that’s a blessing, at least. I’m guessing that oxygen deprivation limited his memories of the attack. I’m not going to tell Alex the whole truth if I can help it. I opt for a sanitized version of the last few hours.

  “Thanatos showed up with the Keres as you were dying. They stole my shears and now the Keres are in control of death.” He watches my face for a moment. I try to look innocent and truthful, but I fail.

  “And?” he asks. “You’re not telling me everything.”

  I sigh. Leave it to Alex to see right through any attempt at evasion. “Nothing else,” I lie again.

  “Liar,” he says without heat. “I can always tell when you’re lying. You suck at it. Besides, my body is too damaged for ‘nothing’,” he says, putting air quotes around nothing with his fingers.

  He’s right, and I can tell by the stubborn set of his face that he’s not going to let it go.

  “The Keres ripped your soul from your body, fed on you, and then threw your body down here. Since Thanatos is with them now, you’ll have to find your own way to the Underworld,” I say.

  “How?”

  “I wish I could tell you, but I just don’t know.”

  “You are immortal. Hades is your uncle. You have to know. You can help me. Please,” he says, reaching toward me. “I don’t want to be stuck here.”

  He sounds so lost and pitiful that my heart breaks all over again.

  “Maybe I’ll just stay here with you,” he says. “I can follow you anywhere now.”

  “You can’t stay, Alex. You have to go to the Underworld. There’s nothing for you in this world. You’re a ghost.”

  “Nothing for me here? What about you?”

  This is a problem. He knows he’s dead, but he thinks that because he’s still here in some form that things can go on as usual. I’ve never seen this, but Thanatos told me about it once. He always said he had a hell of a time getting the ghosts to the Underworld. If a soul lingers in this world too long, and too long can be just a matter of hours, it becomes comfortable and doesn’t want to leave. It thinks that it can keep a piece of its former life by staying in its house or visiting its loved ones. Of course, all the soul is really doing is scaring the crap out of everyone by “haunting” them. Yet trying to explain that to someone who still feels alive and part of this world is a problem.

  “I can’t help you. I wan
t nothing more than for you to stay with me, but it isn’t right for you to be here. You have to go. You have to find your place.”

  “So I’m doomed to wander aimlessly until I find some mystical portal or path to the Underworld? And you can’t help me? Is that about it?”

  I’m crying again, this time out of anger and frustration, but through my tears, I hear something snap. Actually, it sounds more like a twang and it comes from Alex’s soul. That would be his earthly Fate severing itself and free will taking over. Now I’ll find out the truth about his feelings for me.

  “Alex,” I begin, planning to offer some more words of comfort or explanation, but he cuts me off.

  “No. You can’t or won’t help me. Fine. I get it. I guess your love for me ended when you cut my line. I should have expected as much from an immortal. Death means nothing to you. You’ll just move on while I’m stuck here like some monster.”

  He turns to go.

  “Alex—” I call after him. He turns slightly toward me.

  “What?” he snaps.

  There is so much I want to say, but nothing comes out. The right words aren’t there. I just shake my head.

  He nods once, and then asks, “Is it too late for you to flush my memories of you?”

  “Yes. I can only do that to living humans. Not the dead.”

  “My mistake,” he says. “I should have let you do it when you offered instead of foolishly clinging to the memory of every kiss and touch that we shared. If I’d known that you’d abandon me now, I would have chosen to forget you.”

  The cruelty and the truth of his words slice my heart open. I knew all along that the kinder, smarter path would be to let him go, but I was too selfish to do it. He’d clung to me as the only refuge in a world rapidly going to hell and I’d let him do it, only to betray him in the worst ways possible at the end.

  “Alex, I—” I try to speak through my tears, but the coldness of his eyes quiets me. There is nothing I can say that he wants to hear.

  “I love you,” I say softly. “And I’m sorry.”

  He stares at me for a long minute, and I think he might soften. Instead, he says, “I’ve got an Underworld to find. I’d best get to it. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

  He turns and stalks off, his feet passing soundlessly through the weeds and leaving no imprints in the underbrush.

  “Go safely,” I whisper to the empty air.

  I can’t really fault him for his anger. He trusted me and in my stupidity and selfishness, I betrayed him. I told him how death works and promised him the better experience. Then, because of my actions, he got the worst possible outcome.

  I turn back to the rocks and get dressed in my damp clothes, hating myself. I can’t turn back time, but I can at least do the right thing going forward. Bending over, I heave Alex’s body onto my back so that he rests across my shoulders and begin the laborious hike back up the mountain to Oz.

  It takes an hour to get back up the mountain. When I get to the top, I have to lay Alex down on the bench under the witch’s nose and rest for a few minutes. It’s got to be late afternoon by now. I’d love to linger in the sunshine and let it soothe my aching muscles, but it’s been a long, crappy day, and I still have things to do and distance to cover. If I stay here too long, I’ll cramp, so I force myself to stand and pick up my backpack, the blanket, and, finally, Alex.

  When I finally get to the car, I slide Alex into the backseat and cover him with the blanket. After one last look, I pull it over his face and drive away from Oz.

  Somewhere during this hellish afternoon, I decided that there is no way I can take Alex home to his father. I’m going to bury him in our churchyard, first, and then face his father. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to say when asked where Alex is, but any lie is better than leaving his father with the image of Alex’s broken and mutilated body with no explanation as to what happened.

  Before I can bury Alex, I need some supplies, so I stop at the hardware store in Banner Elk. I need a shovel to dig a grave and some wood from which to construct a makeshift coffin. I’m not going to be able to build anything fancy, but I don’t want to just dump his body in a hole. Predators will just dig it up, and I’m not having that.

  I park in the far corner of the lot. I hope that if anyone passes by the car and looks inside that they’ll just assume Alex is asleep. I don’t want to think about the questions I’ll have to answer if anyone realizes that I have a dead body in my backseat.

  I blow through the store quickly, gathering wood, rope, a hammer and nails, a battery-operated lantern, and a shovel. After I have an employee cut the wood into the pieces I’ll need to make a box, I’m back on the road in under twenty minutes, panels of wood hanging out of my trunk.

  It takes an hour to reach the turnoff to the church, and I use the time to bury my sadness. I have a job to do, and I don’t have time to wallow in my grief. While it’s tempting to curl up into a ball and cry, I can’t do that. Grief is fast turning to fury, anyway. I’m angry at Thanatos and the Keres, but mostly, I’m angry at myself. I caused these problems, and I’m going to have to fix them. I’m short on ideas about how that’s supposed to happen, but I’ll figure it out as I go along. After I clean up my mess and get my shears back, I can grieve for Alex. Not before.

  I turn off the Parkway and bump down the hidden road until I can take the car no farther. When I hop out, I take a deep breath. I have a lot of work ahead of me.

  First, I carry the wood up to the church. That requires two trips. Both are hard, sweaty grinds up the mountain, the wood on my back bending me nearly double as I climb. Getting the nails and tools up only takes one trip, and then it’s time for me to take Alex up.

  I’m accustomed to his weight now and quickly shift him into the best carrying position across my shoulders. Even though I am gifted with the strength and stamina of an immortal, I’m still tired, sweaty, and sore by the time I get him to the churchyard. I want nothing more than to lie down in the cool grass and sleep for several hours, but that isn’t an option.

  Having learned from my earlier mistake, I remove my sword pendant from around my neck and nick my palm with it. When the blood flows freely, I rub the blade in it, extending my sword to its full length. I’m not leaving myself unprotected again. Not that I have much left worth fighting for, but still. I jam it blade-first into the ground and get to work.

  I quickly assemble a rudimentary coffin and gently lay Alex inside, still wrapped in his blanket. Standing back, I study his face one last time, remembering him as he was before sickness and the Keres ravaged his beauty. I kneel beside the box, lean in, and kiss him once, softly.

  “Goodbye,” I say. “And thank you for loving me.”

  I remember Asclepius’ jar in my pocket. He didn’t say that the powder had to be used on the body and the soul at the same time. He made it seem like it could be used on two separate occasions. I’m still not sure whether I should use it, but this is my last chance to sprinkle some of the powder on Alex’s body. Well, unless I want to come back up here and dig him up later. Which I do not.

  I tug the blanket down, revealing Alex’s chest. I uncap the bottle and sprinkle half of the powder over the hole where Ker removed his soul, then replace the blanket. Nothing happens since I haven’t completed both parts of the transaction, but I’ve preserved my chance to use it later on his soul if I want to. If I can even find him, of course. I carefully recap the bottle and put it back in my pocket. I look at him for a few minutes more before fitting the lid and hammering it into place.

  That done, I begin digging the grave. I’ve chosen a place under a large oak near the back of the cemetery. The oak is gorgeous now, its canopy lush and green in the summer air. I think he’ll be happy here, where the gentle breeze stirs the leaves in the summer and the bare branches will allow the winter sunlight to filter down and warm the earth.

  The last of the daylight quickly fades as I dig, but I continue on, using the beam fr
om the lantern to light my progress. The wind rises, but I don’t pay much attention until Hermes materializes above me and perches on the rim of the grave.

  “Oh, for crap’s sake,” I mutter as I heave the shovel out of the grave, purposely just missing Hermes with the toss. I climb out of the hole to face him.

  “What?” I ask.

  He takes in the grime and bruises that cover me, the open hole, and the waiting coffin with one disdainful glance. “I don’t know why you’re bothering with this,” he says, waving a hand over the scene. “The buzzards and mountain lions will take care of the human for you if you just dump him somewhere.”

  Leaning toward him, I stretch myself to my full height so that I tower over him. I rest my hand on the hilt of my fully extended claymore so that he gets the message. I am in no mood for his prejudices tonight.

  “State your business and get out of here,” I snarl.

  I’m pleased when he flutters backward just a bit, putting some distance between us.

  “Zeus wants to see you,” he says with the gleeful smile of someone who knows trouble is brewing and that he’s not involved.

  “I imagine he does. And he’s next on my list after I take care of this.”

  “He said now,” Hermes insists.

  “You tell him that unless he’d like to get his fat ass down here and help me dig, it’s going to be a while.”

  “He’ll be angry,” Hermes warns.

  I pick up my shovel and sword and hop back into the grave. “When is he not? At any rate, I doubt he can be much angrier than he already is. Tell him I know I screwed up, and I’ll be up to see him as soon as I keep my promise here. If he wants to kill me before then, well, he knows where I am if he wants to throw a lightning bolt down here. Grave’s already dug. Makes no difference to me.”

  I go back to work, but Hermes still doesn’t leave.

  “Is there something else?” I puff out as I throw another load of dirt over the edge at him.

  “No. I’m just trying to figure out how a human ruined you so completely. You used to be a goddess. Now you’re practically one of them, wallowing in the dirt and muck to dig a grave. It’s so beneath you, Atropos.”

  “Get out of here,” I roar at him, tossing the shovel down and lifting my sword. “Get out, you little bastard, and don’t come back even if Zeus orders you to. If you do, so help me, I will cut you in two and it’ll take you weeks to put yourself back together,” I threaten, waving the sword at him.

  He poofs away, and I go back to digging. Minutes later, a thunderstorm rolls over the mountain. What had been a perfectly nice evening turns violent. Lightning sparks all around me, and the rain pours down in torrents. I’m quickly soaked, and the bottom of the grave becomes a mud bath. The wind whips the oak tree above me, and I worry that it might snap in half and finish me off, too.

  Through it all, I keep digging.

  “Go ahead, you monster,” I scream at the heavens. “You think you’re pissed? Well, that makes two of us. The longer you keep this up, the longer it’s going to take me to get this done and get to you. So keep it up, asshole!”

  The only answer is a lightning bolt that strikes a tree farther up the mountain, sending sparks and flames everywhere. The orange light casts ghostly shadows all around me. I’m truly in hell now, I think.

  “You want to kill me? You’ve got lousy aim,” I taunt. This temper tantrum of Zeus’ is really ridiculous. He’s reacting to my refusal to rush to him as if he is a child, not a god. Well, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I’ll finish here or die in the effort.

  Eventually, the storm tapers off to a drizzle and then it ends entirely. The wind dies down to a gentle breeze, and the moon peeks out from behind the clouds.

  “Blowhard,” I mutter. “All flash and no substance.”

  Finally, I finish the grave and heave myself out of the hole. I lie there, muddy, wet, and panting for a few minutes, then set about trying to figure out how to get the coffin into the grave. It is too heavy, awkward, and inflexible for me to lift it and gently place it in the hole, and I don’t want to just shove it in and let it fall however it might. That seems disrespectful. I need something capable of moving a large load.

  After some thought, I decide to try to call Hades’ hell horses. Depending on how much I’m hated in the realm of the gods right now, they might not come. Hades may have restricted my use of them. But it’s worth a try.

  I open my bracelet and toss a pinch of the black powder into the sky. Nothing happens and I fear that I am truly on my own. Just as I am about to give up and push the coffin into the hole after all, the familiar black cloud rises out of the ground and Aeton appears before me.

  “He only let one of you come, huh?” I say to the horse.

  Aeton nods.

  “Well, that was generous, considering,” I say.

  Aeton nods again.

  “You’re right. I’m a big screw up, but thanks for coming.”

  I cut the rope into lengths with my sword and fashion a hammock of sorts around Alex’s coffin. When I have it as supportive as I can make it, I tie one end of the hammock to the pommel of Aeton’s saddle and pick up the other end. Aeton and I stand on opposite ends of the grave, the coffin between us and parallel to the open hole.

  “Okay, boy, we’re going to walk this sideways until it’s over the hole. Then I’ll lower my end into the grave and come cut your end free after that. You’re going to have a lot of weight dragging you backward once I let go of my end until I can get over there and cut you loose. You okay with that?” I ask.

  Aeton just tosses his head and rolls his red eyes as if I’m insulting him by even asking if he can handle it.

  “I know, but I have to ask, don’t I?” I say. I heave on my end of the sling and yell, “Go,” to Aeton.

  Together, we walk the sling sideways until it’s suspended over the grave. When we have it centered, I lean over as far as I can and let go of my end. The bottom of the casket lands with a thud.

  Aeton digs his hooves into the muddy ground as the load pulls him backward toward the open grave. Picking up my sword, I race to the other side of the grave. I swing hard and my sword cuts the rope on the first try. Aeton springs forward, and the coffin crashes to the ground. It holds together, much to my relief.

  “Sorry, Alex,” I say. “I’d have liked to give you a softer landing, but this was the best I could do.”

  Aeton stands puffing off to the side.

  “You can go, now, unless you want to keep me company,” I tell him. “You did well.”

  I turn and start shoveling dirt back into the hole. The first few clods thud on the coffin’s lid. The sound brings home the finality of this moment, and my throat constricts. I battle back the tears and find it easier than before. Exhaustion and rage are quickly replacing grief. At least for now.

  Aeton wanders over and butts his nose into my back. I turn and scratch him affectionately.

  “Thanks, boy.”

  To my surprise, Aeton climbs over the mound of dirt and begins using his back feet to push dirt into the hole, helping me in the only way he can.

  I smile for the first time all day. “Leave it to an animal to show more compassion than any god,” I say.

  We work together in silence until the job is done. When we are finished, Aeton returns to my side for one more affectionate scratch and then he disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

  I stand alone by the grave. I need to go, but it doesn’t seem right to just leave Alex here. He’ll be all alone, and I don’t like that idea. I know that this is the way things work. The living leave the dead. But I can’t bring myself to just leave him.

  A dozen times or more I turn and walk to the edge of the clearing, resolving to leave, but each time, I turn back. I tell myself I am being stupid, that there is nothing more I can do, but I just can’t leave. The thought of Alex alone, in that dark box, is too much.

  On what is probably my twentieth trip
to the edge of the clearing and back, Persephone appears in front of me, blocking my path back to the grave.

  “You have to go,” she says.

  “Did Hades send you?” I ask.

  “No. But he’s worried about you. When you called for Aeton, we started watching you to see what kind of trouble required Aeton. Hades didn’t send me, but you know as well as I do what he’ll do if he feels like you’re shirking your duty to stay here with a body.”

  I know, all right. Hades might like me more than my own father does, but even he has a limit on how much he’s willing to overlook. With death in the hands of the Keres and the Underworld soon to be overflowing with incoming dead, he’ll have no patience for someone who chooses to sit beside a grave and keep a pointless vigil.

  “I can’t go, Persephone. He’s out here all alone, and no one but me will ever know what happened to him because I can’t tell his family the truth. I can’t just leave him here.”

  “You have to. That’s the way of the mortal world. The dead are left behind and the living go on.”

  She walks over to the grave. “This is only his body,” she says, waving her hand over the fresh earth, making blue and yellow flowers appear over the grave.

  “The real Alex lives inside you, and inside those who loved him. His soul is still intact and will soon be resting in the Underworld. You know we’ll take care of him, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know that. But he’s not there yet, and there’s no telling how long he’ll wander the Earth looking for the Underworld. Thanks to Thanatos’ betrayal, Alex could wander for centuries before finding peace.”

  I sit down next to the fresh mound of earth. Persephone crouches before me.

  “Even more reason why you must leave here. You can’t do anything for him here. But if you get up and move, you can begin to avenge him and all the other humans who are about to die too soon.

  “You haven’t seen because you’ve been busy, but in the hours since Ker stole your shears, thousands of humans have died. Ker has released the Nosoi from Pandora’s jar again to spread disease and pestilence. There are ghosts terrorizing the living because they cannot find their way to the Underworld. It’s chaos out there, and you have to fix it.”

  I sigh. “I know. I know. But,” I begin.

  “He isn’t here,” Persephone says again. “Look inside yourself and you’ll know that as well as I do. Do you feel him here? Do you feel anything more than the breeze and the grass beneath you? Do you feel the pleasure he brought you or the love you shared?”

  I think for a moment. Closing my eyes, I reach out for Alex in my mind. She’s right. There is nothing of Alex here, except some memories of better days. His body might rest beneath the ground, but Alex is not here. Those memories are inside me, and they will go with me. Alex is with me, not with his body.

  “You’re right. He’s with me. Not here.”

  “Good. Then you’ll go,” she says, rising to stand and extending a hand down to me.

  I take her hand and let her help me up. “You know, for someone who wasn’t very good at handling death when you took over for me, you’re a pretty good grief counselor.”

  “Who said I was trying when I helped you? Maybe I just wanted everyone to think I was terrible at it so Zeus would give you your job back.”

  I laugh, then, and it feels good. She outsmarted both Zeus and me. She was responsible for getting me back to Alex.

  “But you acted like you truly had no idea what to do,” I say.

  “I’m a good actress. I knew you wouldn’t have summoned me to do your job without a plan in mind, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what that plan might be. So I played along and it worked.”

  “You and Hades are perfect for each other,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, though, if he gave you any trouble over it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re always fighting about one thing and another. It’s how we get along.”

  I shake my head. “If my plan was so transparent to you, it’s a wonder Zeus didn’t figure it out.”

  She shrugs. “He’s a man, and a bullheaded one at that. He sees what he wants to see. We women know the ways of love and the lengths we’ll go to keep it. Men are clueless about such things. Now, come. Let’s get you out of here.”

  With our arms around each other, we walk to the edge of the clearing. When we reach the edge, we turn and face Alex’s grave. The sun is just rising over the mountain, and it gives the oak tree over the grave a pink halo. Persephone’s flowers blow gently in the breeze. It seems a fitting beauty for Alex. I raise my sword in silent tribute, and Persephone bows her head for a few moments. Then I turn and head down the mountain alone while Persephone disappears back to the Underworld.