He held my hand tightly, struggling to stay upright, his lids lowering, but his gaze stayed locked on mine. My lungs fluttered with the connection I felt to him; the truth of his statement settled in my heart.
“You’re right. I don’t trust him, but I do trust you.” I embraced his hold on me, trying to help him stay steady on his feet.
“I’ll be sure to find the compliment in there when you mean it.” Frosty straightened his red scarf, reminding me of the tattoo inking Scrooge’s chest.
“Why are you here?” I titled my frame, letting Rudy use me as a crutch.
“Saving Rudy meant an end for me,” Frosty replied. “Blitzen figured out I was distracting him. He might be even more unforgiving than you, my dear. I am no more than a fugitive like you.”
Rudy’s weight bore down my shoulders, his head dipping forward. I could feel the decision was up to me. Somehow I became the leader when Scrooge departed.
“Fine.” The remark clung to my tongue, resenting sliding through my teeth. “But one move out of place and you will be riding a burning broomstick.”
“Such violence in a girl who once wore bells on her shoes.”
“I’m no longer the girl who first arrived here.” I leaned toward him, the truth in my statement hitting me. I wasn’t. I always thought myself strong back at home, but I really wasn’t. I had let everyone walk over me, take what they wanted and discard me. Bosses, boyfriends, co-workers, and even family. I was not “silly Alice” anymore. “Don’t test, me, Slushy.”
Frosty’s mouth arched into a smile, his head tipping forward.
“I’m sure you can find a place to freeze in place for the night?” I shifted back toward the house. Rudy barely stood, his weight crushing me, but I bit down on my lip, getting him up the steps and into the house.
The game had changed tonight. The only way to stay alive was to change with it. Adapt, reevaluate, and begin a new plan.
Frosty didn’t know it, but I already had a plan for him.
Nick was not pleased another being was invading his space, but because Frosty wasn’t taking up room in the house or eating food, Nick only grumbled from the sofa while stretching over it.
After getting Rudy back in bed, where he passed out the moment he hit the pillow, I got Pen and Dum to sleep and checked on Dee, feeling more like a keeper at a zoo.
I strolled down the hallway, rubbing my shoulders. The added stress of Frosty’s arrival hurt my back and stomach. The living room was quiet except the crackle of the fire. Nick snored from the sofa, a blanket barely covering his nakedness. Ugh. I shivered, glancing over at the table. Hare sat there; his face planted into the wood. “You okay?”
“Am I okay?” Muffled words came from him. “Does it look like I’m okay?” His head lifted. “We’re stuck in a tiny cabin with Santa’s evil twin, running out of food, my best friend is probably dead, his nemesis just showed up at the door claiming he’s one of the good guys, the Queen is hunting us, we have no weapons or a real plan… and we have no alcohol.” He dropped his head back down with a thud. “Yeah… I’m fucking peachy.”
I sighed, dropping into a chair. The entire world felt placed on Hare’s and my shoulders. In a realm I wasn’t even supposed to exist in, I oddly felt it was on me to maneuver the story. To keep everyone safe. Hare and I made a good team, but we needed Scrooge. People would follow him. Fight for him.
“I have a plan.” I cupped my hands on the table. “And you’re not going to be at all happy.”
Hare slowly raised his head back up, his lids narrowing on me, assessing my expression. “Why do I think I’m going to hate it?”
“Because you are.” My cheek flinched as my teeth sawed at my lip. “But there’s no other way.”
Hare sat back, his nose wiggling as if he could smell the stinking bomb that made up my scheme.
I didn’t fully trust Frosty, and now that he found us, at any moment we could be invaded by the Queen’s men. I needed to act now.
“What do I tell them?” He motioned down the hall. “They won’t like that you left without saying goodbye.”
Sadness bowed my head, my hands gripping each other painfully. The thought of leaving them hurt me more than I thought possible. Not long ago I was still plotting on how to get home, leaving this all behind. Now I didn’t know what I wanted.
“I’ll be back. I could never forget them… or you.”
Hare glanced to the side, hiding the flicker of sentiment on his face. “He wouldn’t want this.” He faced me again, tugging at his apron.
“Doesn’t matter. I have to.”
“I know.” He bobbed his head. “I know. It’s exactly what I’d be doing if I could.”
We shared a sad smile.
“You’re leaving now, aren’t you?”
“I feel this clock ticking. Every second I sit here, the less of a chance we have.”
“Let me get you a few items for the road.” He slipped from the chair, going to the kitchen, filling a bag with snacks.
I grabbed a few toiletries and some socks, nicking a pair of Nick’s boots. They were huge on me, but my feet were done trekking through the element without protection.
Checking in on the twins and Pen, I felt tears building behind my eyes. “I’ll be back. I promise,” I whispered to them, hoping my word would not be broken.
Hare waited for me, holding a bag and some kitchen knives. “Don’t trust anything out there. Not even yourself.”
Nodding, I took the bag from Hare, strapping a knife into a boot, the other to the bag.
“Thank you. For everything,” I muttered, giving him a kiss on the head.
He wouldn’t look at me. His voice raspy, he said, “Go find him.”
“I will.” I had no room for doubts and fears. There was no plan B.
Wiping at my eyes, I rushed out the door, knowing if I stood there another moment I’d find a reason to stay with them.
But he needed me.
“Ms. Alice, I did not expect to have your company again so soon.” Frosty stood in the middle of the area, the broom I left outside curled between his wood fingers. He held it like he was the leader of a marching band.
“Cut the bullshit, snowman.” I stalked up to him, hitching the bag on my shoulder. “You said you were here to help. So help.”
“And what service do you require of me?” One side of his mouth curved up.
“You’re going to take me to the Land of the Lost and Broken.”
“Am I?” His smile expanded to both sides. “You know, what you lost is already misplaced.”
“And no commentary.” I pushed past him.
“Such bad manners for one who seeks a place she cannot find unaccompanied.” He spun to follow my movement.
I stopped, turned, and marched back up to him.
“I told you not to test me. I’m beyond exhausted, stressed, cranky, and in dire need of a massage, a steak, a warm bath, amazing sex, and a good strong drink.” I clutched his scarf, my face in his. “Now take me where I want to go before I turn you into bathwater.”
“I warn you, what you ask for cannot be undone once done.”
“Is that a yes?”
“If the Lady Alice demands it, the story must already be written.” He slid past me, holding up the broom, setting the parade in motion. “Let us go. Losing oneself takes time. And every minute is of the essence when you’ve become nothing more than a fragment of that lost time.”
Chapter 30
“How far is this place?” Nick’s boots slopped in the thick snow, the double socks I wore barely keeping them on. Blisters bloomed on my heels from the hours of rubbing my feet raw.
“Neither far nor close,” Frosty replied, stacking another layer of irritation upon my vertebrae. That had been his response since the moment we set off. It made me want to shove the broomstick he had grown fond of holding between his dead coal eyes.
The farther we traveled up the other side of the mountain, the more anxious I became. The thought
of running into gremlins or whatever other things were out there I hadn’t encountered yet jangled my nerves.
The trail up to Nick’s had hardly been considered worn or used, but this way was more isolated. The warning winds didn’t even venture over the backside, which made me reevaluate how stupid this was.
Patches of pine trees grouped together, their backs to each other. Like hermits who lived together because of necessity, not because they wanted to, acting as if the other wasn’t there. Branches filled with nettles blocked out the moonlight, creating heavy shadows, the trees’ eyes glowing like eerie yellow streetlamps above and glaring at us as we trekked through. But these trees didn’t engage with anything more than a growl of “get out” or a fierce glare.
Frosty ignored them, skating through without even a glance at them. “Come on, Ms. Alice. Time is ticking.”
Pure stubbornness was the only thing moving me forward. My adrenaline had dwindled away faster than my energy. I was on fumes when I started, and the march through shin-deep snow, keeping up with Frosty’s pace, was torturing my mind and body.
You can’t quit. He needs you, Alice.
The thought I was too late, that this all would be for nothing, skimmed by my heart like a bullet grazing my temple. Fighting back the surge of pain, I shoved the thought away. I would find him. There was no other choice.
“Do you actually know where you are going? Or are you leading me to a gang of rabid squirrels who will stuff me full of acorns and roast me?”
“Chipmunks.”
“What?”
“They are meat-eating chipmunks. Not squirrels.”
I came to a stop, my mouth dropping open.
Frosty swirled around, his creepy smile escalating up his face.
“You’re joking, right?”
“No. As I’ve said, wit is for those who have none.” He winked.
“Chipmunks? Tiny adorable, fluffy chipmunks?”
“Don’t be fooled by appearance. They are revolting things the way they tear into flesh… but so doggone cute.”
“Awesome.” I inhaled, searching the trees for the little creatures.
“Don’t worry. There’s not enough living meat venturing in these parts for them to make a home here.”
“Lovely.” My mouth puckered, my legs groaning with effort as I advanced them forward again.
The next hour the debate of stopping and resting for a few hours twirled on my tongue. Every time I thought I reached my limit an image of Scrooge flowed through my mind. The feel of his mouth on mine, his touch. Then a flicker of him on his knees, his nails digging into his scalp as he screamed, rocking back and forth, would hit me with such force it would take my breath. It felt so real; it caused my heart to thump and shoot a dash of energy through my legs, keeping me moving forward.
As Frosty and I came down into a ravine, the moon vanished on the other side of Mount Crumpit, penetrating the gorge covered in a dense mist and shadows. Air clotted my lungs; sour syrup poured down on the crevice like a stack of pancakes, tasting bitter in my mouth.
Impenetrable darkness ended the trail. The space beyond bled into a blackhole with no trees or any sign of life around. All I could do was feel. Sadness. Devastation. Bleakness. Overwhelming dreariness and desolation hung on my ribs like lonely, sad holiday ornaments. Goosebumps prickled the air on my arms and the back of my neck; my chest felt heavy and throbbed with melancholy.
“This is where my story ends, my dear, and yours begins.” Frosty waved the broom toward the black nothingness.
“What’s in there?” I swallowed, stepping forward, the heartache and misery scraping at my skin.
“What you are seeking.”
“Scrooge is in there?” I pointed, fear leaping and twirling in my stomach like the Nutcracker ballet.
“If that is what is lost.” He moved to the border, holding the broom to his side. “But know if what you seek is no longer there, nothing is what you will have.”
His brain-twisters caused my head to throb and doubled my annoyance level.
“I think I’ll jump in there just to get away from you.”
“I’m flattered, my dear.”
Taking a deep breath, the gloom struck my lungs, and I forced myself forward. Wearily, I crept to the edge of the trail.
No matter what, remember Scrooge, I said into my head. Keep saying his name.
“All right, Alice. It’s no use going back. There’s only forward.” I shut my eyes. “Scrooge, I’m coming for you,” I muttered as I lifted my foot and stepped in.
Down.
Up.
I couldn’t tell. There seemed to be no bottom or top. No ending and no beginning.
Even with my feet on the ground, I no longer felt attached to anything. At any moment I could float away into nothingness. And be nothing. It was tempting. The crushing sorrow and sensation of being adrift inside my body made me want to let go and forget the pain.
Soft whimpers and hollowed cries sang through the space. Low and muffled, it registered in my ears like an opera, digging into my soul as if it were trying to crack me open.
I stared around this land I had stepped into. Similar to being on the moon with no sun lighting it, the sky was pitch black while the snow glowed with millions of twinkle lights from underneath, making the objects floating around me easy to make out.
Toys as large as golf carts and as small as peas hung in the air. No gravity existed for them. Stuffed animals with missing arms, dolls with no eyes, games without pieces. Every color, size, and type of toy and game you could imagine wove and bobbed in the space. Even with millions of them, the vastness of the land spaced them out like stars in the sky.
It was a floating graveyard, ghosts of what we used to care about and love discarded and forgotten, left to wander in search of owners who no longer wanted them.
“Scrooge,” I muttered his name, moving through the objects as if I were underwater. “Don’t forget why you are here, Alice. Find Scrooge.”
A giant matted brown teddy bear with a torn red bow brushed my arm as it floated past. The moment it touched me, my knees buckled. My mind slammed with images of the life it had with its owner, and the moment she grew up and threw him into a trash can, saying he was a baby toy. He cried at night for her, for the child who no longer loved or needed him.
A sob bubbled up my throat as a limbless Barbie knocked my head, spiking more memories into me. A little girl sobbed as her older brother tore the limbs from the doll, chucking it over the fence with an evil laugh. The Barbie was left and forgotten when the girl got a new one, replacing the once beloved doll with an upgraded one.
“No,” I muttered as another toy knocked against me. It felt like molasses was being poured straight into my head, my own thoughts drowning under the thick sauce. Suffocating. Disappearing.
More and more toys tumbled by, needing to tell their story, wanting my help. Every one that brushed me fostered more grief inside, ripping away parts of my soul.
My hands came up to my head, overloaded by the bombardment of toys, shoving their own stories into my head, memories of how they got here… all filled with heartbreaking sadness. There was so much grief it weighed me down, bending me over my knees. A wail fractured out of my lips, my own memories slipping away as they filled me with theirs. They were stealing pieces of my mind. My soul. I was forgetting who I was.
Don’t let them touch you, Alice.
“Stop!” I screamed, rocking forward, my nails digging into my head, the flood of images pounding my temples. “Don’t forget, Alice. Don’t forget Sc—” But the name batting at the back of my throat wouldn’t make it all the way up. No! Don’t forget. I buried my head deeper into my legs, my lashes squeezing away the flood of distress. When my head quieted, I opened my eyes, staring at my pants. Red. Like the color of an apple.
I sat up, staring at everything moving around me in wonder. Who or what was I trying to find again? How long had I been here? Had I always been here? I could no longer recall.
Time held no meaning for me. Nothing did. But a nagging voice buried deep down itched with the need to move. To retrieve something. But what? I came here for something, didn’t I?
I glanced around, confusion wrinkling my forehead; the pestering sensation to locate an item pushed me back up to my feet, moving forward. To where, what, and why, I didn’t know.
Did I even know who I was?
“Alice.” I rolled my hands into fists, but doubt curled my shoulders. “Your name is… Alice.”
My feet stopped, the strange word rolling over my tongue sounding alien to my ears. Was that really my name? It had to mean something to me. A reason I said it. A fear I didn’t even understand had me clinging to the moniker, the last thread of everything securing me to something.
“Al-ice.” I rehashed the word I had been muttering, having no connection to it. “Alice?” I stared off in confusion. “Who the fuck is Alice?” The question dropped off my tongue as I batted away an old-fashioned doll, her cracked porcelain face, one revolving eye, and a yellowing white dressing gown hovered at my face looking like a ghoul. Her story was of being left when the little girl died of tuberculous. This time I didn’t feel sadness, but anger. Deep evil flashed pictures of flames burning down a plantation house as the doll watched from some bushes where she had been dropped.
Instinct had me hurrying past the doll, needing to be away from the malevolent images and from the thick goop of darkness that clung to the doll.
I darted around a wall of random Lego pieces. The anxious sensation of living in the present with no memory of the past or understanding of the future made me run from the terror weaving in my head.
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