“Can I help you?” asked a perky looking brunette in a bright red print dress. She smiled widely to reveal straight white teeth framed by her ruby red lips.
“We need to take a balloon to the Jungle,” Stephen said, returning her smile.
“Alright,” she said. She pulled a small notebook out of her pocket and searched through it. “Here we are. That will be two gold per passenger. If you have it with you we can get you going right now.”
Stephen handed her the money. She smiled and waved for us to follow her. We weaved through the balloons to a red and blue balloon that was tethered a bit lower than the rest, with a rope ladder hanging to the ground.
“Jesse, we got two more,” the girl called up.
A young man with dark hair leaned over the side and gave her the thumbs up. Stephen climbed up first, the rope ladder swaying under his feet. I slipped off my heels and tossed them up to him before climbing up myself. There were three other passengers on the balloon, a woman and her two small girls. They sat buckled onto a bench on the wall of the basket. Stephen and I sat on the bench opposite them and buckled our own seat belts. The young man was apparently the pilot, though he wore nothing to make that clear, just a white button up shirt and brown slacks. He nodded to us before leaning over the edge of the basket.
“That everyone?” he called down to the girl. I looked over the side to see her nod. “Alright then.”
The pilot pulled up the rope ladder. He rolled it into a tight bundle and tied a cord around it. Shutting the trap door the ladder had hung through, he locked it in place and went to the control panel. Down below, four people went to the tethers holding us in place. At some signal I didn't notice they unhooked the tethers and sent us floating.
We drifted up to about five-hundred feet and the pilot hit a switch on his control panel. There was a low hum from below as two engines kicked on. We began to move with purpose. I glanced over the side one more time, and decided I didn't want to look anymore. We were high enough to make me dizzy.
“So,” said the pilot. “How are we all doing today?”
*
The trip went quickly. When the air turned chilly, the pilot pulled out blankets for us. The woman and her kids were on their way to visit relatives and the pilot told us he flew this route once a day as long as there were passengers. I sat snuggled up against Stephen, feeling totally content in the moment. Because we happened to be traveling in the same direction as the wind, the air in the basket was peaceful and still. I was disappointed when the pilot stopped the engines and began slowly releasing the hot air.
The balloon gently descended towards the earth. I risked looking out over the side again and saw we were headed for a balloon field similar to the one we had just left. There were only five other balloons below though. The earth seemed to be coming up far too quickly, but when we did hit there was only a gentle bump. The land crew tied up the ropes and the pilot lit the burner again to keep the balloon inflated for the next flight. We were ushered out of the basket before the balloon gained any more lift.
“That was amazing,” I said as we walked off the field.
“Best way to travel,” Stephen said. “Now, back to business.” He waved over an attendant and subtly handed him a coin. “Has a red haired woman and her crew been through here?” Stephen asked quietly.
The man glanced around before leaning in to answer. “Early this morning,” he said in a hushed tone. “You'll find them in the old church on Main.” He tipped his hat to Stephen and hurried off.
“Have you been here before?” I asked Stephen as we walked.
“I'm not sure,” Stephen frowned. “It seems familiar though. We should have gotten a ride with that woman and her kids. There aren't going to be taxis like in Crescent.”
“We can walk,” I said, unwilling to admit how nervous I was to see Clea in person. I took his hand and we began to follow the dusty road toward the city in the distance.
“Were you and your sister close?” Stephen asked.
“Not really,” I admitted. “We fought constantly. We used to be close when we were little. I don't know what changed.” That wasn't true; I knew what had changed. All of a sudden as we got older we were competing for everything: friends, boys, clothes.
“Hannah and I fought,” Stephen said. “But at the end of the day she was my little sister. I would have stood with her against anyone.”
“Yeah.” I nodded absently. I wasn't sure if that would be true about Claire and me.
“You just have to remind her you are family,” Stephen said. “I mean if you can't count on your family to be there through everything, who can you count on?” I smiled and leaned into him, glad he had found me.
“I would have been lost without you,” I said. “I never would have found Claire.”
“Well I never would have gotten Hannah's soul back without you, so I guess we’re even,” Stephen said. He shook his head. “I still can't believe you took that chance.”
“I thought I was going to be able to really play him,” I said. “I wasn't expecting a straight game like that.” Somewhere behind me a clopping noise was growing louder.
“Still, it was amazing,” Stephen said.
I stopped and looked over my shoulder. Behind us a horse and cart was drawing nearer. Stephen and I moved to walk along the side of the room, making room for the horse to pass. As the horse drew near, the woman driving pulled the horse to a stop. She was an older woman with a gray bun at the nape of her neck and tan, weather-worn skin. She smiled.
“You two want a ride into town?”
I looked at Stephen. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem,” the woman said. “Too far to walk on a day like this. Hop on the back.”
Stephen and I went and sat on the back of the cart. “Okay,” Stephen called and the cart began to move again.
9.
We hopped off the cart at the city limits. The place didn't seem habitable; rubble littered the streets from half-collapsed buildings. Sections of the street were raised a few inches above the next, some at a sharp angle. Trees and other plant life had begun to take over the city, growing from the cracks in the road and on top of the rubble. A small girl stood watching us, fingers in her mouth, from the doorway of a building that was now only two stories, but looked like it was once at least a couple more. I felt like I was in a war zone.
“Come on,” Stephen said. He got me moving with a gentle hand on the small of my back.
The city was unnaturally quiet. We passed few people as we walked, and there was none of the usual bustle of talk and activity that fills a city. I could hear gulls calling in the distance, and the chittering of squirrels in the trees. It was like a lonely country road, but surrounded by buildings. The people we saw seemed more like ghosts.
“Why don't they leave here?” I asked.
“Some of them have no place else to go, some of them are afraid to leave,” Stephen said. “For criminals, this place is a haven. They rule the streets without question.”
“Seems like even more reason to find someplace else to go,” I said with a shudder.
“I agree,” Stephen said.
We walked along the silent main street until a church came into view. Like the rest of the city, it was a crumbling mess. It looked like a giant had walked by and taken a bite out of the spire. The cross at the top looked like it might fall in the next big wind. A half broken, circular, stained glass window faced the road, and stone from the church walls littered the yard. We stood at what once would have been the gate to the church yard. Now it was only a gap in a collapsing wall.
“Are we sure this is the right place?” I asked.
“Not really,” Stephen said. “There could be another church, but the guy at the yard made it sound like there was only one.”
“I really wish we had a gun or something.”
“A little late for that, don't you think?” Stephen asked dryly. “It wouldn't matter anyway; I don't know how to shoot
one.”
“Me either, so I guess we wing it.”
“That was my plan. Let's go.”
We picked our way carefully through the yard. At the doorway we paused, peering over the broken down door into the church itself. Sunlight filtered onto the stone floor through a roof that was mostly gone. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door, Stephen was right at my heels.
“About time you showed up,” a man said.
He grabbed me from behind, pressing a cold wet cloth to my face. I struggled, kicking the man in the shins, but he didn't let me go. I saw another man had grabbed Stephen in the same way. A sickly sweet smell filled my senses, and the world faded to darkness.
*
When I came to I was staring up at the sky through the church roof. Tree branches crossed the opening, filtering the light with their leaves and providing some shade where there would have been none. I turned my head, seeing Stephen was still out cold beside me. I reached out, shaking his shoulder.
“Stephen,” I hissed quietly.
“No need to whisper.” I knew it would be Clea before I turned around. She sounded just like Claire. I faced her and tried to stand. I could barely get my feet under me.
“If you hurt him,” I said. I heard a round of clicks and found I was surrounded by her guard, who had all just drawn their weapons on me.
“No one moves,” Clea ordered. “You, sit,” she said to me. I slowly sank back down. I wasn’t sure I could have stood for long anyway. “I didn't hurt him any more than I hurt you. Just a little chloroform to lay you out for a bit.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why do you want to hurt me?”
“Because I want to stay in this body and so does she. Because you hurt her.” Clea leaned forward. “In a dozen or more ways, over and over again you hurt her.”
“Claire?” I asked. “I didn't hurt her.”
“Please,” Clea said. Her hand went to the wide scar on her forehead. Up close I could see it was more than an inch long, angry red and swollen.
“We were just kids when that happened,” I argued. “And the scar isn't so bad on her.”
“Her’s is just the physical scar,” Clea said. “There is nothing to show for the times you went out with a boy she liked, or didn't take her to a party.”
“She didn't like parties,” I said lamely. Behind me, Stephen stirred, but I didn't dare turn around. The six scar-faced men looked ready to fire if I so much as twitched.
“Everyone likes parties,” Clea said, beginning to pace with four slow steps. She was a stunning figure in the form fitting black dress and heels. “You were always so popular, so outgoing, everyone liked you. Claire was older, but the kids in her grade knew you better than her. They never cared about her.”
“That’s supposed to be my fault?” I asked. “I would have let Claire come with me anywhere, but she was too stuck up.”
Clea took a long step forward and slapped me across the face. The crack echoed in the empty church. Tears filled my eyes as needles of pain twitched through me. Clea looked ready to do a lot more than slap me.
“Alyssa?” Stephen moved behind me. This time I turned. “What's going on?” He was lying on his back still, looking around at the guard.
“It's okay,” I said calmly.
I stood up, the guns following me, but no one shot. Clea glared ice at me, her features sharp and threatening. Below that, I could see something else. There was a hint of the softness that had always surrounded Claire. I took a deep breath, and hoped I was doing the right thing.
“Claire was a bitch,” I said.
The church was silent enough that I heard a branch creak over head. “We were both bitches,” I continued. “It was high school, and Claire hasn't even been there for the last two years. She's at college now, and you know what? She loves it. She has friends there, friends I have never met, and she goes to parties, and she gets good grades.”
“Does this rant have a point?” Clea tried to sound bored, but it was a lie. Her hand gripped the amulet around her neck. I pressed my advantage.
“Yeah,” I said. “The point is, move on. Maybe I was popular in high school, but that doesn't mean anything. Those people who Claire thinks I was such good friends with? I haven't talked to most of them since graduation, and I don't really care. I’m in college now, moving on with my life. You know who I care about? My sister.”
Clea grimaced, as if the words had hurt her. I began to walk toward her. She stood her ground, but seemed to lean back as I drew close.
“She doesn’t care about you.” Clea bit the words out. “She loves being me. There is so much power in this body now.” Clea put her hand to her stomach, eyes lighting up as she continued. “No one would dare hurt me and it is the closest thing to freedom Claire has ever known. She loves it and she will let me kill you in order to keep it that way.”
Clea strode to a crumbling stone alter, lifting a silver-handled knife. Her heels clicked across the stone floor as she returned and pressed the blade to my neck. Her hand shook, the blade nicking my skin. Her other hand went to the amulet.
“She doesn’t want me dead,” I said softly. “She doesn’t want this life you’ve trapped her in. My sister was good. She didn’t hurt people like you do.”
“She wanted to,” Clea said through clenched teeth. “Especially you.”
“She hurt me plenty,” I said, my eyes drilling into Clea’s. I ignored the pain of the blade against my throat. “And she knows it.”
“Shut up,” Clea screamed, pulling away the knife and shoving me backwards. I stumbled back a step, but caught my balance. She was holding the amulet in both hands now.
“I want to see my sister again. I want us to be friends the way we were when we were little. I want to stay up late talking with Claire about boys, or school, or whatever. I want her to stop being bitter about the things we have done in the past, and start moving on. I’m sorry I ever hurt her.”
Clea backed up a step, but I reached out and grabbed her arms. I pulled her to a stop, tugging her hand away from the amulet. The stone had begun to crack. I felt the cold barrel of a gun against the back of my head.
“Boss?” the man questioned. Clea’s face tumbled through a kaleidoscope of emotions. I shut my eyes, fearing that she would order me dead. I could hear the man breathing heavily behind me. He sounded like a smoker.
“No,” Clea said, her voice raspy. I opened my eyes as the man pulled his gun away. Clea glared at me still, but I was too full of relief to care.
“I love my sister,” I said.
The amulet cracked with a loud snap, the stone falling away. Thin smoke twisted up to Clea's nose and she inhaled. Coughing, she collapsed to the floor.
10.
Ignoring the goons with guns, Stephen and I knelt at Clea's side. Stephen rolled her to her back, and felt for a pulse.
“She's alive,” he said. I held her hand tightly, praying she would wake.
“We should waste them,” one of the guys said. The others nodded in agreement.
“No,” Clea said, her voice weak as she pushed herself up on her elbows. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “No, you are done here, go back to Crescent.”
“Boss?” the guard asked, his gun half raised.
“Go,” Clea growled.
The six men left, with no small amount of grumbling. Clea's eyes met mine. Above her eyes the scar was shrinking to the thin white line I knew it as. Her eyes softened. She let go of my hand and pushed herself to her feet. When she lost her balance, I steadied her.
“Claire?” I asked. It seemed like too much to hope for. She nodded. I couldn't help but pull her into a tight hug. For a moment she seemed to resist, but then I felt her arms wrap around me in return.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered. It was so soft I doubted Stephen even heard.
“It's fine,” I said, pulling back to look her in the eye. “I understand.”
“You're right,” she said. “I need to move on. I’ve held onto so much
anger over little things.”
“I didn't think you would remember any of that,” I admitted. I had meant everything I said, but it was embarrassing to think about.
Claire smiled. “Sorry. It needed to be said though. We should never have let things between us get so bad. It almost ruined me.”
I hugged her again. When I pulled away, she was beginning to fade like Hannah had. Her already pale skin became nearly transparent as she stood there. I covered my mouth to keep from crying out. It had been painful to watch when it was Hannah, but watching my own sister melt to nothing was almost unbearable. Claire saw the pain in my face.
“I'm alright,” she said. “This is the way things should be. You'll be following soon enough.”
Just like Hannah, she was gone. No sign in the empty church that she had ever been there. I sat in stunned silence, staring at where she had just been. I heard rustling and felt Stephen's strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me into him so my back rested on his chest. I clutched his arms with my hands. Tears filled my eyes.
“It's alright,” he said softly. “She is okay.”
“I know.” I was taking deep breaths, trying to convince myself that everything really was okay. “She said I'd be following soon. I don't know how to follow.” I turned, unable to hold back the tears anymore.
“We'll figure it out,” Stephen said. I leaned into him, glad to still have his strength with me when I had never felt more alone.
We sat silently in that abandoned church, held together more by shared grief than anything else. For long minutes we took comfort in each other, neither of us ready to move on from that moment. In the end, of course, we had to move. We couldn’t just wait on the floor of the church, hoping to be whisked away like Hannah or Claire. Stephen was the first to move.
“Better get going.” He gently pushed me away from him so he could stand. Once on his feet he reached down to help me up. I brushed the dirt from my dress with one hand, keeping a firm grip on his hand with the other.
“Where will we go?” I thought about Crescent with its dark alleyways and shady nightclubs. It didn’t feel like home.
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