by David Simms
Lyra stood up with Luke, who looked like he had just realized he’d lost his puppy.
“You said you’re part of the power,” she stated, “of those who live beneath.”
“What do you mean, girl?”
Lyra turned to Muddy, mouthing a goodbye before kissing Corey on the cheek and winking. “We’ll meet again. I promise.”
She threw herself at the Triton closest to her and hugged his three arms so he couldn’t raise them or right himself. They both screamed as they tumbled out the window. Right before they fell, Muddy noticed a coil of something in her hand. Before he could cry out they were gone, but he knew she would survive, somehow.
The other two stumbled, weakened. Broken from the whole, their power lessened. The Accidental’s song had worked.
Luke screamed for his sister in a howl that sounded anything but human. He turned to the others and cried, “I’m sorry,” to anyone who was listening. He powered his sturdy frame into the other two and in their awkward, weakened state, caused them to crash into each other and slam against the wall with him. Then, in one swift move, like a cowboy at an otherworldly rodeo, he wrapped them with a coppery wire. He pulled them both through the middle window behind Zack’s device. With nary a sound, all three bodies fell out of the window to the rocky shores far below. Muddy noticed that Luke had the wire attached to himself like his sister did.
“Holy…” Otis mouthed. “What was that?” He ran to the window and looked down. “I can’t even see the bottom. We must be over a thousand feet high.”
“At least,” Corey agreed, a tear forming in his eye. “She did promise, though, didn’t she?”
Poe hugged him and whispered, “Of course she did. She’s not a stupid girl.”
* * * *
Muddy rushed to his brother and began to unfasten the wires jutting into his flesh. Most of them simply pierced him by less than an inch. After carefully pulling a few out, Zack’s fist suddenly tightened around Muddy’s. Zack turned his taut, pained face to the others and spoke the words that would haunt his brother for years.
“I am the Dark Muse,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Don’t you get it? I belong here. I belong to the River, to them.” He gestured downwards with a shaky hand.
“How could you want that?” Muddy stuttered the words. “They’re monsters. They only want to use you. Besides, they’re gone.”
“Not them,” he said, shaking his head. “Not them. I’m talking about something much, much more than they ever could be.”
“What?” He pulled away at more of the strings.
Zack began to slip, but fought his brother to remain in the harness. “I can’t go home. They own me.” His voice rang hoarse, but with spirit. “I can be someone here. I can be their power. These people don’t have the music. They need someone to show them. His head bowed. “They make it all happen.”
“What? Who are they?”
Instead of answering, Zack crumbled into near unconsciousness and became Muddy’s brother once again.
“Do we take him back or not?” Otis leaned over him as they all helped remove the wires.
Muddy grabbed him by the shirt. “You’ve got to be kidding. After all this?”
Poe and Corey helped Muddy lay the teen flat on the floor as he slept.
“We have to,” Poe said. “He’s family.”
“But he said he wanted to stay.”
Muddy erupted again. “He was under their influence. It’s like a drug, but worse. We need to get him back home.”
They looked at each other and even Otis nodded. “I’m sorry, bro. I’m just worried about something else following behind us and ruining our world.”
“What about Lyra?” Corey asked, looking at the window.
Otis laid his hand on the big teen’s shoulder. “She promised to see us again.”
“But she’s not music, like we are. How can she?”
Poe looked at him. “I guess we’ll have to visit. Maybe she’ll come back with us if this place doesn’t improve.”
“Think she will?”
She smiled. “Someone’s got a crush. Yeah, I think she would, if only to visit.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Muddy stood up and turned to the others. “Zack needs to see a doctor or something.”
“Is that smart?” Otis asked. “They might ask questions.”
“He’s my brother. I have no choice. Besides, it’s not like anyone would believe him. They’d think his story was crazy.”
Poe paled just a bit. “But what do we do about that thing? That thing we let in that ruined Emerson Street? People will be asking questions about that.”
Muddy grinned as he propped up his brother, wrapping his arms around Zack’s, the guitar underneath both. “Two things. One, we remember to lock the door tight this time. And two, we’re The Accidentals. People might not think we’re important—yet—but they will, someday.”
“How are we going to we transport him back home? The crossroads are too far for us to carry him. We’ll never make it. Besides, how do we get out of here? I won’t go back the way we came.”
Muddy smiled as he remembered Silver Eye’s words. “There are many crossroads, all over the world and beyond.” He looked down at his feet and saw that the Triton’s inner sanctum was a crossroads. “Finally,” he announced to the others, gathering them together, “we’ve encountered something easy.”
They returned to their world playing the same song that brought them there, the song that Silver Eye taught them, the same one that automatically locked the door behind them.
As they shimmered out of sight, Muddy wondered when they would experience anything like this again. He had a feeling it might be before they were ready for it.
This world had more dark secrets than they had time for; ones that now placed bulls-eyes on each of them and would likely come to collect sooner than later.
He hoped the music would be enough the next time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They returned home via the crossroads, complete with Zack in tow. They were worried he wouldn’t cross over if he wasn’t playing, but the music in him was too strong. Muddy placed Zack’s pick in his palm then closed his hand. It worked. All crossed over and no one drowned.
However, Zack’s condition worsened upon arrival. Poe dug up their cell phones from the pile of tires where she’d hidden them. Of course, the group didn’t expect to need them after their first journey and doubted cell towers even existed there. She called 911 and Muddy’s dad immediately.
The paramedics brought Zack to intensive care where he lay comatose with undiagnosed symptoms. Of course, most everyone suspected drugs. Toxicology tests confirmed some still lingered in his system. But nobody at the hospital knew the real reason and those who did know wouldn’t tell.
When Muddy returned home with Zack, his father knew. That look in the man’s eyes told him everything; the novelist hadn’t been the only traveler in the family. They talked for the first time since his mother had died, really talked. He told Muddy why he had changed the family name and actually called him Muddy, instead of Edgar, the legal name he had given the teen.
* * * *
During the week following their return from the world across the River, life happened in a quiet manner. Every one of them needed it. The cops had called in some specialists from the Environmental Protection Agency to investigate the worm invasion; a block-long insect that suddenly appeared downtown and caused a media sensation, especially in New Jersey. People all over the area believed that pollution or radiation had caused the mutation. Others felt that offshore drilling and messing with the shorelines had disrupted the earth’s crust and allowed a subterranean creature to crawl on land. It made the bully of a governor look like even more of an idiot clown, but people just laughed at him, as always. Obviously, Carter Hills had to deal with two invertebrates that week. Soon, the buzz would die off and life would go back to normal. Well, sort of; not for the band, anyway, or the Rivers family.
The only positive thing that happened was the postponement of the Battle of the Bands for a week. It provided a much-needed respite for the group to recuperate and recover mentally, as much as reality permitted, anyway.
Poe moved in with Otis’ family, at least temporarily. She had undergone the most change. Even though her vision faded again, it had improved enough to see plenty of things that would help her in life. Most importantly, she now saw she had no future if she remained home. Her father attempted to quell the rebellion, but a few concerned calls to social services got the police involved, and that forced him to leave her alone. She would be fine, eventually.
Muddy hoped he had garnered enough strength to ask her out. He’d faced zombies, giant worms, egomaniac hammerhead-spider creatures and saved his own brother from a force he never discovered. Yet asking this girl to accompany him to a silly dance frightened him more than all of the above combined.
Otis’ sense of humor mellowed a little, which frightened Muddy. He had become subdued, focused. No one could figure where his focus was but it worried them all. Poe heard him mumbling in his sleep one night about living forever. She said she could make out words such as “Rhapsody,” “Reaper, and “Revolution.” He would then awaken smiling and at peace. When he rehearsed for the Battle of the Bands, he played like a machine, but one with a soul possessed by a mission.
The only one who didn’t benefit from the return was Corey. He walked to school in silence, only providing one word responses to questions or comments from his friends.
“She’s alive,” Poe offered, holding his arm, half to comfort him, half for her. “She wouldn’t end her life like that, not with her town in need. Not with you waiting.”
Still, he was focused on something only he could see, possibly something he would never see again. They worried about both him and Otis crossing back over without the others. Corey believed he had lost another friend, reminding him of his cousin. Death never became easy. When he played, a mournful tone filled the air, adding a midnight tinge to whatever song the band played. Muddy thought it would help him recover.
Maybe one day, they would find Lyra once again.
“They’re gonna kill us.”
“Relax,” Otis said, “relax. We have this one in the bag. They can’t touch us because we’re tougher this time, don’t you think?” Even his voice sounded different. More confident.
Muddy stroked the first note of the song, the same one that helped them escape from the Triton’s lair.
“Still,” the drummer yelled, ready to hit the first rhythm. “A set of all covers is safe. I think we deserve safe for a week or two, don’t you?”
All nodded except Corey who simply gripped his sax as if it were alive. They knew he needed that right then, at least until they crossed back over—if they ever did.
His friends smiled, probably agreeing with him. This was the battle they had been waiting for. The only real competition would be Bentley’s band—again. They had a set of all covers, plus one original, just like The Accidentals. They also had the support of over half of the school.
For once, Muddy and the band didn’t care. They wanted only to play their best.
Now, as they stared out into the throngs of smiling faces, they played through the song, almost as sweet as in the Triton’s main chamber. Muddy struck gold on the solo, as did Corey and actual cheers erupted from parts of the auditorium. As the coda rolled though the song, bringing their thrill to an end, Muddy felt his gut tighten. Something wasn’t right. It wouldn’t be for a while.
The song ended and a new one began. Muddy figured that Bentley’s band would still win, but things had changed. Everyone in the band had changed or had found their strengths, their true selves that had been struggling to emerge since before the crossroads. The applause drowned out the other sounds, the ones from outside the school.
Muddy gripped his guitar tighter. His smile grew despite the apprehension gnawing at him. His mother always said that while his father had the stories, the imagination, her Edgar had the intuition that would take him far in life. His cell buzzed in his jeans and he ignored it. Something told him that whatever it was, he would be finding out soon, anyway.
The band had agreed to launch into their final song, a cover of a Guns N’ Roses tune, but they hadn’t decided which one, yet. “Paradise City” and “Sweet Child of Mine” had been two of Poe’s favorites to sing.
Suddenly, the doors to the auditorium burst open—off the hinges open. People scattered everywhere and the power blew. Moments later, as the generators kicked in and the lights came back on, the band and most everyone in the audience turned to the source of the explosion.
Muddy’s brother, the Dark Muse, stood at the entrance.
Muddy didn’t need to look at his phone now; he was sure it had been his father, calling to warn him.
The boy Muddy stared at had changed. The coma had been a part of that. The attachment to that machine drawing the music from him had let something in, something from deep down in that other place. Something that lived beneath the River.
“Hello, Muddy.”
“Hello, Zack.” He looked much older, weathered, than the boy Muddy knew just a week ago. He wore a leather coat that covered much of his body, especially his face. The rest of the world disappeared as Muddy took in the scene and what it might mean to him.
“Thanks for bringing me where I should be.”
The knot touched his heart as he mouthed the words his brother now spoke. The auditorium’s lights went out and a darkness the world had never known lit up the room.
Coming Soon…
The next tale of “The Accidentals”
As Muddy dreamed of performing on a massive connection of paths, on a stage which reached out to the north, south, east and west, farther than any eye could see, something looked back at him.
Many sets of eyes sought him out as he played a Jimi Hendrix song, one he knew would become part of his next adventure. Still, sweat beaded on his skin as the strange glares began to burn at his flesh.
He opened his eyes and the song ended abruptly. Zack? Did he have something to do with this?
Awaking had been its own adventure lately. First, the dream of his mother, second, Zack’s disappearance, and then the crazy times across the River. He had a bad feeling about this one and somehow knew everything they had just endured was nothing compared to what lie ahead. His band—The Accidentals. They needed to change it back before Zack became strong enough.
Could they?
The moment they met in Muddy’s basement, he tore into the band, immediately regretting his words. They were likely just as scared as he was—or should have been. All had answered his text message and arrived within the hour.
“Did someone cross over?” Muddy fumed. “If someone did and left the door open again—”
“No,” Poe said, her voice quivering a bit. “Someone opened the door.”
“On this side?” Otis already twirled his sticks. “Or the other?”
Muddy turned back towards his home.
Zack.
“Does it matter? The door is open and you remember what happened last time that happened. But that’s not all. I have the strangest sense that many more nightmares are headed our way.”
Otis turned left and right. “For us? Coming after us?”
Poe faced westbound. “Does it matter? I had the dream too. That’s twice, now, that we’ve shared a dream.”
“Of crossroads? Our crossroads?” Corey finally opened his mouth. He had only talked when he needed to but now Muddy knew he thought of one thing, one person. He prayed she was truly alive.
“Maybe she found a way to come here.”
Muddy had begun to shake his head as if some being from the other side had invaded his skull. “No. No,” he said to himself and then louder. “No. This is worse.” He nearly dropped his guitar when his hands shook too much. Whether it was out of fear or anger, he couldn’t tell. “No, someone invited them.”
&n
bsp; “Them?” Poe gripped his hand. He wished to hold her close, but didn’t. The foreboding that something would rip apart everything they knew squeezed at his heart like a vise.
“Them. Plural.”
The air around them shimmered. Something or someone was coming through.
By the time Muddy raced to the hospital his worst fears were confirmed. Zack no longer lay in his bed. Only empty sheets remained.
He brought back his brother but had he saved him? Something else returned with him. Something that he knew would wind up destroying all Muddy knew and loved.
A strange sensation washed over him as he realized he had been duped. “No, no!” He sprinted as fast as he could to the house and bolted down the stairs to where he left the band.
The rehearsal room stood devoid of any of his friends. All the remained was a now familiar cross shape. The edges around it still shook and when he looked inside, he nearly jumped back up the stairs.
No, his friends. Zack. His father. Everything. He bit back his fear and ran forward with all his might.
When the world stopped spinning, he opened his eyes to discover something worse than he could ever imagine.
No, not here. Not now. We’re dead already—we just don’t know it.
In the distance, he noticed that the basement was still visible as the shimmering began to fade. All of band’s instruments, the special ones, lay on the floor where they’d likely dropped them.
As he felt the sweat run down his arm, his heart bursting through his chest, he realized fate had given him a sliver of hope.
His hands clutched his own guitar. But what could he do? Especially here.
Zack, or what was left of him, had sent the band far away. Far enough for those who lived beneath the River to awaken and travel to his world.
What it took in return frightened him more.
This time, he thought, the music might not be enough to save any of them.
About the Author
David Simms now lives in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia with his wife, newborn son and two furballs after escaping New Jersey and Massachusetts. A special education teacher, college English instructor, counselor, music therapist and book reviewer, he moonlights in the Slushpile band on lead guitar with F. Paul Wilson, Heather Graham and Alexandra Sokoloff, performing across the country. His short stories have been published in various anthologies and he is currently working on the sequel to Dark Muse and a historical thriller about one of the country's darkest secrets.