I’m not sure if I was crying because of the news of Oscar’s death or the letter kicking me out of law school or the pain of the withdrawal that was already turning my body and mind into mush. I guess, if I’m honest, I’m going to go with the withdrawal pain because that was symptomatic of what I had become back then; selfish, negligent, and, ironically, considering the source of my addiction, in almost constant pain from the residual effects of the accident. But this news about Oscar, well, it was a pretty close second. The combined weight of it all broke me. Somewhere inside, an invisible dam buckled, crumbled, fell. And the reservoir of self-loathing and despair it held back spewed its poison into me.
“Fa… fa… thanks for letting me know,” I sniffled and hung up the phone. I hadn’t offered a single word of comfort to June, and that’s something I’ll never forgive myself for, but at that moment, I felt utterly empty. And that emptiness was a relief, because even the withdrawal pain was gone, replaced by an emotional void, black and infinite. I felt as though I was just a sack of skin, inflated by the fumes of that toxic, black nothingness. Dead. And if this was what it felt like to be dead, then I welcomed it, because there was no pain, no guilt, no caring, nothing.
It was already late afternoon, and the shadows of the trees lining the street stretched across the road, reaching for me like skeletal-fingers. I pushed myself to my feet, stared at my apartment building, then staggered off in the opposite direction just as the first plump drops of rain began to splatter on the sidewalk.
I was soaked through within the first minute, but I didn’t care. Couldn’t care, not anymore. So, I kept walking, my eyes cast downward, permanently fixed to the continually unwinding concrete pavement just a few feet ahead of me.
One step. Two steps. Repeat.
I don’t know for how long I walked, have no real memory of the journey, but by the time I looked up again, the sun was setting, and my familiar neighborhood was gone. Ahead of me, I saw the lights of the Oakland side of the Bay Bridge stretching out into the San Francisco Bay, the city lights of the bay’s namesake glowing in the darkening sky beyond. What should have been a beautiful ethereal sight was nothing but pain-inducing to my bulging eyes. A walking path extended across the span of the bridge, and I followed it, the oncoming lights from cars heading to Oakland slicing through the gathering darkness just a few feet from where I staggered through the rain falling in ice-cold sheets.
The emptiness within me shifted like a living thing, as if the void sensed the approach of night, growing restless as the sun’s last rays vanished from the horizon.
Blackness within. Blackness without, I thought.
I continued walking the footpath, black and shiny with pooling rainwater. When I reached the center of the Oakland span, I stopped. In the distance, the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge sparkled and scintillated. Unlike its infamous sister, the Bay Bridge had no safety nets to catch a jumper who was willing to simply climb over the waist-high metal security fence and step off into the freezing waters of the San Francisco Bay.
Until this moment, I hadn’t fully understood why I was here, why my feet had led me to this place. Now it was all perfectly clear; there was nothing for me; no one who cared for me; no reason to stay. The final frayed ties to this life were all broken. This was the place. Here was where all the pain would end. I was about a mile or so out over the bay, almost at the mid-point of the Oakland span.
Far enough, I decided.
I stopped and grasped the freezing, rain-slick metal of the bridge. Movement drew my attention back to the path: a cyclist was approaching along it toward me, his head bowed to keep the rain out of his eyes, water spinning off his bike’s wheels.
Somewhere within the blackness that had once been me, a small spark of hope sputtered into life and began to gradually expand; a dim light weakly illuminating the void. This had to be a sign, it told me. A final attempt by a seemingly indifferent universe to grab my attention; to give me a chance.
“If he stops, it means he cares,” I muttered to myself. It means I matter.
The cyclist rode by without even glancing up at me.
The spark sputtered and vanished.
All I wanted now was an end to this torture.
I grasped the safety-barrier with both hands, ignored the jagged chill that ran up my arms, swung my legs over, and lowered myself down onto the thin lip of concrete extending out just a couple of inches, my back pressed against the railing. Below me was nothing but a black mirror; the only evidence there was anything other than oblivion down there, the refracted light of headlights on the shore-road bouncing off the waves of the bay. If my eyes could have pierced the darkness and driving rain into the glassy waters of the bay what would I see? Bright red hair pulled back into a bun, unruly tendrils falling around my face. Blue eyes peering back at me, surrounded by darkly shadowed skin, puffy and lined from lack of sleep. I’d lost about twenty pounds over the past couple of months, and it showed mostly in my face; I was almost twenty-eight, but I wouldn’t have blamed anyone for thinking I was closer to forty.
I teetered on the edge, the rain pounding all around me. A numbing wind gusted in from the east, cutting into my soaked and rapidly freezing skin. My teeth began to chatter. My fingers were quickly turning numb against the icy metal. I leaned back to take some of the strain from my arms, let go of the barrier, and pressed the palms of my hands against my thighs, eyes tightly closed.
“Now,” I whispered.
It was so simple. Just step off.
My body refused to obey me.
“Now,” I repeated, the first tears of frustration beginning to run hot over my freezing cheeks.
“Now!” I screamed, urging myself to do it. All I needed to do was take a step, a single step, and it would all be over. I began to lean forward...
...and stopped.
I reached blindly behind me for the safety of the guardrail as the emptiness within me vanished as though it never existed. What replaced it was an explosion of overwhelming panic, then terror at my utter stupidity, and a wild undeniable desire to live.
There were people who loved me.
I could get help.
All I had to do was reach out to someone, anyone. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, adrenaline pushing back the fear and the discomfort and pain. Everything could be fixed, but first I needed to get off this bridge, now!
Ever so carefully, I turned back toward the safety that lay just on the other side of the barrier. Shuffling my feet inch-by-inch while I swiveled my body to face the walking path, my fingers now totally numb and barely responding, the cold eating into my bones, slowing my muscles. I’d managed to get my left leg up onto the safety rail when a violent gust of wind flashed across the bridge, slamming into me head on. My right foot skated on the slick concrete lip like it was ice. I tried to keep my balance, overcorrected, felt my foot whip out from beneath me… and I slipped. My chin smashed into the railing knocking my head back. I felt teeth and bone crack as my jaws smashed together. Hot blood filled my mouth. Pain exploded through my body. My vision swam, my fingers released their grip on the railing. I began to slide off the side of the bridge, stopped from plummeting straight into the bay only by the fact that my body, from my right heel all the way up to my armpit, scraped agonizingly across the lip of concrete I’d been balanced on. As I dropped, my hands smacked against the railings… and the fingers of my right hand locked onto the metal. I would have screamed, but the blood in my mouth clogged my throat, choking me. I couldn’t even draw enough air to breathe let alone cry out for help.
I’m going to die. Oh my God, I’m going to die, my mind screamed. This can’t be happening. Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!
A fresh wave of panic exploded through my body, taking hold of me and refusing to let go. I whimpered like a baby as the fingers of my right hand began to cramp.
I gasped out loud at the sound of someone’s voice nearby.
“Candidate 13, do you wish to be saved? Answer yes or no.”<
br />
I couldn’t tell whether the voice belonged to a man or a woman; it was flat, emotionless. It sounded like it was coming from the walkway, about two-feet above where I dangled over the drop into the freezing bay water, suspended by one hand. And for a moment, I thought I was saved. I looked up, expecting to see feet or a hand reaching for me… but no one was there.
Then the disembodied voice spoke again, crackly and with a distinct electronic edge to it, like you hear in a movie when some kidnapper is trying to disguise his identity from the Feds. “Candidate 13. Meredith Jane Gale. In thirty seconds, you will be beyond my ability to save. Do you wish to be saved? Answer yes or no.”
I blinked several times in quick succession. “What?” I managed to slur through lips that felt like they were made of cotton. I felt warm blood spill over my chin with each word. “Help me. Please.”
“Meredith Jane Gale,” the voice continued. “Born August 7th, 1990 to Norman and Doreen Gale. Attended El Camino High School. Your best friend was Oscar Kemple. He expired today, contributing to your advanced state of depression. You lost your virginity to Richard Pollard at age sixteen and seven months in the rear seat of his Ford Explorer. The color of the walls of your childhood bedroom was purple, a color your mother objected to. This afternoon you received a letter stating you have been removed from your law course at Berkeley University.
Candidate 13, in eight seconds, you will lose your grip and fall. You will break numerous bones upon impact with the water, but you will not die from the fall. You will, however, drown six minutes and eighteen seconds after impact. The pain during that time will be intolerable. Once you are deceased, high winds and a stronger than normal swell will sweep your body far out to sea. It will never be recovered. I can save you. Answer, yes or no.”
Just how the voice knew all of this, I did not know. “Please, help me,” I whispered, blood clogging my lips. “You have to help—”
“Answer, yes or no,” the voice interrupted in that same cold, almost-electronic tone.
I started to answer, but before I could get the words past my shredded lips, my fingers gave way, and I slipped from the bridge, and I fell.
“Yes!” I screamed, my eyes tightly closed as I dropped toward the waiting abyss. Whether the words were in my mind or I actually managed to say them, I don’t know, but a millisecond later, there was a bright flare of orange light, and my world ceased to be.
Two
Darkness was replaced by daylight.
I had a fleeting moment to realize I was still falling, dropping through the air like a stone. My legs kicked wildly in a vain attempt to halt my fall, arms windmilling as though I might suddenly learn the secret to flight.
I started to scream, but the cry never came. I crashed into water, swallowing a mouthful of it instead. Seawater! Its briny taste unmistakable as it flooded down my throat and into my lungs, choking the breath from me. I spewed it back out just as my head broke the surface.
Gasping for breath, panicked and confused, I began treading water as my brain struggled to make sense of what had just happened. This wasn’t the San Francisco Bay. There was no sign of the bridge. No sound of a distant city and no way for me to explain how night had, in an instant, been replaced by this insipid daylight.
A gauzy mist hung just a few inches above the water, rising high enough that I could see no more than a few feet of the surface. Something splashed into the water close by. It took me a moment to realize it was a piece of the walkway from the bridge. It sank instantly. My cellphone bobbed on the surface a few feet away from me, and I made a vain attempt to reach it, but then it too disappeared into the murky water.
Born and raised in California, I’m a fairly decent swimmer—I should be after a childhood spent playing on the beaches up and down the West Coast. I knew I wasn’t going to drown, I could tread water like this for hours if needed. I willed my body to relax, fighting to regain control of it from the panic-induced rush of adrenaline still surging through my veins. Minutes passed, and I switched position to float gently on my back, staring upward into a sky filled with leaden clouds.
It was raining hard, the downpour pounding the water’s surface and my face as I tried to relax, blinking away fat, stinging raindrops. I began to regulate my breathing to match the gentle bobbing of my body—in through my nose… out through my mouth—gathering my wits, my stomach-acid-raw throat burning with each breath I exhaled.
I flipped myself upright and began treading water again. Gray, foamy water the same color as the slowly dissipating fog surrounded me. The surface was calm, like that of a lake, but the mouthful of water I’d swallowed was definitely seawater, which meant I was in an ocean. Fog blocked my view beyond just a couple of feet, and the rain blurred my vision. The sun was a barely perceptible ghost, haunting the invisible sky, hidden behind the mask of angry cloud.
The mist began to fade, gradually revealing more of my surroundings. The hazy outline of a distant coast appeared, maybe six or so miles away. Suspended above it, rising high into the troposphere was a tower-like structure.
It was huge. Just how huge, I couldn’t tell because its upper section was hidden by the cloud. But, like the stem of a wine-glass, the tower tapered downward, narrowing as it drew closer to the ground. It was too far away for me to be able to make out much detail besides its immensity, but the way the light reflected off its surface suggested the tower was constructed of flat planes, placed together at differing angles, like the facets of a diamond.
I stared open-mouthed at the unbelievable monolith for more time than I can remember while my brain tried to process it, all thought of my predicament temporarily gone from my head. But then reality came crashing back again as I realized I had been deposited so far from the shore of that distant coast there was little chance I would be able to swim to it. I simply wasn’t strong enough to make it that far. I rotated slowly, shivering as the chilly water finally made itself known.
“Yes!” I hissed. An island sat about fifty feet away, its beach covered in white shale and gray-and-black pebbles. Beyond the beach, a swath of tall grass swayed in the breeze. And then a line of trees that could be palm or maybe coconut reached skyward before the craggy outline of a mountain jutted high into the air, dominating the island, its pinnacle hidden within the thick gray clouds that owned the sky.
A shrill cry of panic drew my attention back to the ocean. There! I saw the face of a young Asian woman about thirty feet to my left, her long black hair streaming all around her head just before she vanished beneath the surface. She popped up a second or two later, spluttering and spitting water. She yelled something in a language I didn’t understand before sinking again.
This time she didn’t resurface.
I swam quickly to her, and dived down, searching blindly, the water so murky I could barely see any further than my hands. I pulled myself deeper into the darkness, feeling for the woman. Nothing. With a kick, I propelled myself to the surface, sucked in air, and dove again… but the woman was gone.
By the time I surfaced for a third time, the fog had almost completely dissipated except for a few wisps, allowing me to see that I was not alone. There were more people in the water, many more, some splashing frantically, others treading water like me. Still others swam for the island. There had to be at least a hundred or more, stretched out in an arc that roughly followed the contour of the beach, as though we had all been deposited into the ocean in a neat line. Objects floated around them; baskets, hats, bits of wood, other things that were nothing more than indistinct blobs to my irritated eyes. I spotted a couple of horses heading for the safety of the island, one with a rider still seated in the saddle, another, riderless and panicked, foam bubbling from its nostrils and mouth as it fought its way up onto the beach and stood there, panting. I caught movement near where the riderless horse stood nervously pawing at the ground. The horse spotted it too, squealed in terror and galloped away in the opposite direction.
I gasped in astonishment as a figure,
nine feet tall, humanoid in shape but definitely not human, rose up from the beach, sand and stones falling from its body, and strode down the beach toward the shoreline.
It was a machine, I realized as it got closer to the water… a freaking robot!
Two small electric-blue eyes sat on either side of a narrow, concave bar that floated unattached to the bump that was its head. A V-shaped torso tapered down to hips protruding almost as far from its body as its broad shoulders. A black triangular latticework or grill sat in the middle of the machine’s protruding convex chest. Two arms, made up of multiple flat oblong-shaped segments, swung at the machine’s side, each segment hinged in some unseen way to the next. Its legs were human-like, long with muscular metal thighs and calves, the illusion of humanity only ruined when I saw the robot’s feet; they were claw-like and articulated with six-joints on each of the three elongated ‘toes.’ A single, fourth spur jutted backward from each heel, kicking up gouts of shale with each step as the robot moved closer. Its body was either painted gold or was actually made of gold.
The golden robot reached the shoreline but did not stop; striding into the water, never faltering for a moment as it continued toward me, a wake trailing behind as its massive body pushed through the water to where I bobbed helplessly. Only as it drew closer to me did I realize it was speaking, repeating the same words over and over again like a stuck record: “Welcome, children of Earth. Do not be afraid… Welcome, children of Earth. Do not be afraid...”
Less than five feet separated us by the time the robot drew parallel to where I floated, gaping in shock and amazement and fear at this impossible creature.
“Welcome children of Earth. Do not be afraid,” it repeated, its eye-bar shifting left and right before facing forward again as it pushed further and further out. It vanished beneath the surface with only a ripple and a few bubbles to mark that it had ever been there at all.
As if a hidden switch had been thrown, the people still floating all around me simultaneously began screaming, their words and pleas merging into one incomprehensible voice. Exertion, shock, and the cold water had begun taking their toll. My muscles were starting to stiffen. If I didn’t try to get to the beach now, the chances were good that I’d end up like the unfortunate woman I’d tried to save.
The Paths Between Worlds Page 2