Into the Void

by Amanda Frame

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, “I do that too!” Her face fell. “But we don’t know what server she uses.”

  “That’s okay. We can just try a bunch. Gmail, Hotmail, all the popular ones. Just send a vague email saying we saw her post on that specific thread and she’d probably respond. Right?”

  “Yeah, I bet you’re right. Maybe even make it seem like we know her? She might be more likely to respond.”

  So we drafted an email.

  RgulrCat78,

  Hi there, haven’t talked to you in a while! I saw your post titled Empty world. Anyone else? from 2013. I am hoping you can answer a few questions for me. I’d appreciate a response ASAP. Thanks.

  Vague enough to not sound crazy if it wasn’t the right person, but containing enough info that she should know what I talking about if it was the right person. Becca nodded.

  “And now we wait?” she asked.

  “Now we wait,” I stated with a small smile. She said “we”. She was in this with me. I knew it was selfish to be happy about that, and a pang of guilt ran through me. But I had missed her. Even though I had John, I still felt alone. Isolated. And she had wanted this, right? I tried to keep it from her and she wouldn’t let me. So I tried to convince myself that I shouldn’t feel guilty. But I did. This might be dangerous. It was dangerous. I had let out a monster.

  We sat in silence for a while. I slammed the laptop closed and she jumped. “Sorry,” I said, “I just can’t think about this anymore right now. Can we talk about something else?”

  So we did. We talked about boring school stuff and boys and college. I was definitely taking a year off. Becca had already been accepted into a community college to do her pre-reqs since she wasn’t positive on what she wanted to do yet. We both needed to find jobs. Her for the summer, me something a little more permanent since I would be working at least a year. We browsed on our phones for a while, but we were both distracted. I kept looking for the little envelope icon to pop up on my alert bar.

  I needed that email. And I needed to talk to John.

  CHAPTER 28

  JOHN

  If only I had bullets. Based on my limited experience here, I was pretty sure that if I was able to cross back home from this spot, I would find the merchandise that I saw on the shelves right now, but in better condition, along with a fully stocked store. But why? What made the objects that had crossed over special? Was it just bad luck that there was no ammo at this store, but I could possibly find some somewhere else? Or was there something about bullets that prevented them from being mirrored in the Void at all?

  I sat on the floor hugging my knees, discouraged and feeling sorry for myself. With a groan, I pushed myself up and inspected one of the pairs of combat boots that sat on a low shelf. They looked like a woman’s size, but after inspecting the very faded and frayed tag on the tongue of the shoe, I was able to distinguish “mens size 6.5”. Great. Who had feet that small?

  I looked inside the tongue of the next pair of shoes but couldn’t make out the writing. Picking up the right boot of both pairs, I placed them sole to sole. Looked like the same size. So stupid. What are the chances of two pairs of the smallest sized boots crossing over, but no others? I cursed my normal-sized feet.

  I checked out the jacket. It was on the last hook on the rack, as though in the real world it was behind all the others. XXL. Seriously? Was this place stocked for some kind of reverse clown? Tiny feet and a huge body?

  The backpack was on the back of shelf labeled “tents” as though it had been put back in the wrong spot and forgotten about. I hefted it off the shelf and went through all the pockets. It was empty, but in decent condition. Placing it on the floor, I went over to the blanket. It was white camo, meant for snowy conditions. So not appropriate in Florida. I sighed. I wouldn’t be able to use this outside. I might as well be waving a red flag.

  There were some other items hanging around. Three parachutes and two ready-to-eat meal packets were labeled “liver and onions”. I almost gagged. You’d have to be pretty desperate to eat that, luckily I still wasn’t interested in eating.

  There was something odd about the stock that had crossed over, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It seemed like everything here was either unpopular or in the wrong place, like it was something that wouldn’t have been even looked at, let alone bought, in ages. Was that the commonality? Unwanted things? But no. I had seen beds, school desks, cash registers, even a few antique cars in garages. None of those things would be unwanted.

  Not unwanted but…unmoved. Yes. Unmoved. I thought of all the things I seen.

  Okay, beds. Check.

  Desks, cash registers. Check.

  Cars. No, cars get driven. I sighed, disappointed that my theory fell through.

  But wait. I distinctly remembered all of them being antique cars since my dad was a fanatic. Some people had cars like that in garages for years. They were collectors’ items, not for transportation.

  I hadn’t seen any clothes, buses, dishes in cabinets, chairs, or, of course, people. These were all things that moved around constantly or got used on a regular basis. It was like things that stayed in the same spot for a while kind of burned through, or get imprinted.

  This made sense. I wasn’t sure how useful this knowledge was, but I felt proud of myself for figuring it out, assuming I actually had. I stood up a little straighter. I was smart. Kind of. I can do this. I can survive.

  But this wouldn’t help me find bullets. It reinforced the fact that anything remotely useful wouldn’t be available in the Void.

  Unless…

  I rushed to the room with the guns hanging on the wall and started throwing open the cabinets lining the floor.

  Empty. Empty. A box that had some packets labeled “emergency purified drinking water”. I rummaged through it, feverishly whipping the packets over my shoulder. Nothing. I groaned in frustration. Keep looking.

  Another cabinet. Empty. The next one had another box, and my heart raced with anticipation. I ripped it open. More goddamn parachutes.

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” I whipped the box back into the cabinet as hard as I could and went to slam the door when I heard a faint “clink” as though the box had hit something.

  I calmed my breathing and carefully removed the box, setting it on the floor. I leaned into the cabinet, which was a good three feet deep, wishing I had a flashlight that actually worked.

  I swept my fingers across the bottom back edge of the space and paused as I felt a small box way in the corner. I fished it out, fingers shaking. The cardboard was too faded to read the label. I carefully tore open the box and dumped it into my hand, holding my breath. Please please please.

  Batteries.

  My heart sank and rage boiled in my chest. I just couldn’t catch a break. I leapt to my feet and hurled the handful of batteries at the wall. I roared profanities at the empty room and kicked the cabinet door until it splintered and hung off the rusty hinges.

  There wasn’t much left to take my anger out on so I stood red-faced and chest heaving in the center of the mostly empty room. I grabbed a gun and was about to throw it at the lone window on the far wall but froze right before I let go.

  The mantis was across the street, facing away from me.

  I stood completely still, just staring, mouth agape, as it stalked toward the ghostly image of a man standing outside a convenience store. The figure was solidifying as the creature got closer.

  Suddenly it turned and I ducked but realized it wasn’t looking at me. I stood up slowly and leaned to the left so I could see what it was focused on, forgetting to be scared for a moment in my curiosity.

  Another monster.

  ~

  Holy shit! I crouched down quickly but couldn’t take my eyes off the thing. It was lizard-like, walking on all fours, slightly smaller than the mantis. Its belly skimmed the ground as it slunk forward, huge talons scratching the pavement. The mantis tensed, the knife-like scales on its back rising like hackles.
Its mandibles spread open and I heard it shriek, a sound somewhere between nails on a chalkboard and the eerie baby-like scream of a fisher cat. I flinched at the noise and stifled the urge to clap my hands over my ears.

  It was pretty clear an epic battle was about to ensue.

  I was sure the mantis had it in the bag until the lizard opened its mouth and I saw three rows of deadly looking teeth, dripping a bright-blue liquid that steamed when it hit the ground. My pulse quickened as I imagined those teeth piercing my flesh, and I decided I’d much rather get eaten by the mantis’s hairy drooling mandibles.

  They lunged at each other and I watched in horrified fascination from the relative safety of the gun room. The lizard was quick. It reared up on its hind legs and sank its teeth into the insect’s belly. The mantis shrieked again and snapped its jaws onto the side of the lizard’s shoulder.

  The battle picked up and it was hard to follow exactly what was happening, just a whirlwind of claws, teeth, and scales.

  After what seemed like forever, the movement started to slow. There was black oily blood everywhere and both creatures were badly injured. The lizard stumbled back down to all fours. Big mistake.

  In a final burst of strength, the mantis clamped its bloody mandibles down on the back of the lizard’s neck, and with a twist, snapped it at an impossible angle. The lizard fell into a heap on the ground, black blood mixing with the florescent venom dripping from its mouth.

  The mantis wobbled, clearly seriously injured, one hairy arm hanging limply at its side, a deep wound in its belly oozing blood. It limped toward the hazy figure who was presumably the cause of the battle, although I had forgotten about him in the chaos. It was then that a very frightening realization hit me.

  This is it; this is my chance. The mantis was badly wounded. It was distracted. I would never get a better opportunity. I was getting weaker by the day. It was now or never. I didn’t think it through any further.

  I sprinted back into the main area of the store and searched frantically for the large hunting knife I had set down somewhere. Where is it where is it where is it?

  Aha! I swiped the knife off a nearby shelf and rushed to the exit but paused with my hand on the door. I took a deep breath. Do it. Don’t think.

  I pushed the door open and stepped out, heart pounding in my chest. As it swung shut behind me, I felt very exposed, but the mantis either didn’t notice or didn’t care about me. It seemed to be assessing its injuries.

  Pushing my fear into a dark corner of my mind, I sprinted at it with a yell. It turned toward me but I was on it before it could react. I jumped on its back and searing pain shot through me as the razor sharp scales protruding from the center of its spine pierced my flesh.

  I didn’t slow, couldn’t afford to. I wrapped my left arm around its neck and heaved myself up, feeling its hot drool drip on my forearm.

  It reared up and screeched, trying to shake me off. Its mandibles snapped at me, but it couldn’t lean its head at the angle needed to get a grip on my arm. With another cry, I raised my right arm high and brought the knife down as hard as I could, stabbing the top of its slimy head.

  Zombie movies had given me an unrealistic expectation about how easy it was to stab something in the head. The fourteen-inch blade stopped less than a quarter of the way in after I hit something hard.

  The mantis shrieked again and bucked wildly. I saw its arm reach around towards me and I cried out as a sharp claw raked the flesh of my calf.

  Fueled by adrenaline and terror, I wrapped my legs around the creature’s thorax. Letting go of its neck, I gripped the knife with both hands and pulled it down into the creature’s head with every ounce of strength in my body, feeling the deep burn of my ab muscles tearing with the effort of holding me in place. I felt the knife crack through bone and then slide into soft tissue with a sickening squelch.

  The mantis gave one final shudder and fell to the ground.

  CHAPTER 29

  ANNA

  “Fine.”

  “Fine? For real?” I asked, shocked.

  “I suppose. You almost crossed over by accident last week so I might as well help you do it responsibly. I knew we would need to do it soon anyway, so I prepared.”

  I sat on John’s couch, nearly bouncing with a nauseating mix of anticipation and dread. My talk with Becca yesterday had spurred me to press him for more information. I had made some good arguments, apparently. I was waiting until after our session to break the news that Becca knew about almost everything. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be too thrilled.

  He stood. “Okay get up. Help me move the couch.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows, but helped him push the couch and coffee table against the far wall.

  He left me standing awkwardly in the center of the now mostly cleared out area while he went into his bedroom. He came out pulling a fully inflated air mattress resting on its edge. I ran over to help. This was so weird.

  “Okay. Drop it here,” he said with a grunt. His arms shook a tiny bit after we set it down, and I was reminded that he was probably in his late eighties, maybe early nineties. He just seemed so cool that sometimes I forgot.

  We stood next to the air mattress for a moment in silence, him with his hands on his hips. We were both unsure but for different reasons.

  “Alright,” he said with a sigh, “come on.” I followed him into his bedroom where there was a square marked out on the floor with painter’s tape. What the hell is going on?

  He looked at me pointedly. “So. A few things. Entering the Void intentionally is different from when you get pulled in accidentally like you did when you got upset about Brian. I have to…we have to actually pull apart from our bodies. It’s a weird and uncomfortable process, but I can help you through it.”

  I was not liking the sound of this and was definitely considering backing out, but he continued, “Next thing. We each have a trigger that allows us to enter the Void. I assume everyone who can do this has one. Mine is high-pitched noises. Took me a while to realize it.” He reached to his night stand and grabbed a whistle. I had the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of whatever this bizarre ritual was, but then he looked at me with sympathy.

  “What?”

  “I was hoping your trigger was the same as mine, but from what you’ve told me, I think I’ve figured it out, and unfortunately it isn’t.”

  “Okay, so what do you think it is?”

  “Pain.”

  “Pain? Fantastic,” I replied with a groan. “So what happens now?”

  “Well, I figured I can either step on your foot—” he pointed at my very bruised, probably broken toe “—or slap you across the face. Unless you have a better idea.”

  I laughed out loud, but then saw his blank expression.

  “Wait…you’re serious? Hell no!” I scoffed.

  “Don’t you want to do this?” he asked in all seriousness. He put the whistle to his lips and blew. I cringed at the pitch.

  “Well, of course I do!” I said, covering my ears.

  “Okay then, here we go.” He stomped down on my foot and I screamed. White-hot pain shot up my leg and I squeezed my eyes shut. Just as I was about to shout some pretty harsh obscenities, I opened my eyes and the words died in my mouth. The room was nearly empty and the carpet was tattered and gray. The mattress was gone and I watched the metal bedframe rust before my eyes. The air felt heavy, pressing on my skin.

  “What the…” I looked over at John and he was…blurry. I blinked and shook my head, thinking for a moment that it was my eyes, but no, it was him. His image was jumpy like I couldn’t focus.

  “Why are you…” I started.

  “Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, but his voice sounded weird too, possessed almost, two pitches overlapping.

  “Do you see the tape on the floor over there? Head towards it, I’ll be right behind you.”

  I was terrified, pain forgotten. I couldn’t do anything other than follow his direction. Breathing heavily, I to
ok some shaky steps forward. After several feet it started to get harder. I felt John’s hand on my upper back, pushing me forward. Even with his help, it was difficult. I felt like I was walking through waist-deep mud. I started panting but urged myself on, my legs straining. Determination hit me. Clenching my jaw, I pressed on, still feeling John’s presence behind me.

  I was nearly out of steam by the time I reached the middle of the living room, barren except for the square outlined on the floor with tape. I lunged forward with one final burst of strength, my runner’s legs carrying me just over the tape. I was caught off guard by the sudden release of tension, like someone had cut an invisible rubber band that had been holding me back. I stumbled forward, nearly falling on my face.

  “What the…” I started as I turned to look at John, but my gaze locked onto a body lying face-down in the middle of the living room. It was wearing a black tank-top, jeans, and purple flip-flops. Straight brown hair hung over its face.

  My face.

  I gasped and leapt backwards, not comprehending what I was seeing.

  “John! What’s hap—” But John wasn’t there. There was a kid. Tall, dark hair, maybe just a little older than me.

  “What the fuck!” I yelled, cowering back. “Where’s John? Who are you?” I looked around frantically. “John! John! There’s someone here!” I yelled for him, backing away slowly, even though he didn’t seem threatening.

  “Anna, it’s me.” Held up his hands in surrender, not attempting to approach.

  “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” I was so confused. My body was lying on the floor and a strange boy who claimed to know me had appeared in John’s living room. Where the hell is John?

  “It’s me, it’s John,” he said delicately. I looked at him blankly, still not understanding. His bright white t-shirt clashed with the drab landscape around us.

  I laughed nervously, on the edge of hysterics.

  “No, really, Anna, it’s me, I swear.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “This is who I am, it’s just that you haven’t seen…the real me, I guess?” He shrugged and gave me a small smile.