Monsterland

by James Crowley

  “And how do you know so much about this place?” Franklin asked, still looking around suspiciously.

  “How do I . . . ? As I thought you were aware, my old friend, I am dead,” the Prime Minister answered. “I have been to this place before but left quickly. Torn away from these trees, I was brought back, tied by tainted blood to this body and its cursed infection . . .”

  With another flash of light, a second spirit moved on as the Prime Minister turned to Charlie.

  “There are others who are trapped, Charlie. Still bound, chained, and cursed like I was to their past lives, and to the wreckage of those they left behind.”

  “That is enough,” Franklin barked. “You will scare the boy.” He shifted and his shoulders shook as the spirits brushed by him. “This is all too much. Too much for me, even . . .”

  “Ah, yes. No doubt some former owners of your parts have passed under these sacred trees,” the Prime Minister said, raising an eyebrow in Franklin’s direction.

  “A strange presence is about me to be sure,” Franklin grumbled. He was wrapping his knotted rope around his hand. “What of it?”

  The Prime Minister glanced up at the Monster. “Leaves one to wonder if one day, when your earthly form has finally given out, if what remains of you might somehow find its way here . . . or somewhere like it . . .”

  “Yes, makes one wonder,” Franklin said softly.

  Charlie looked up at him and into his dead black eyes. Again, he thought he saw something, faint but glowing, behind the darkness. But this time, in this place, it burned differently. This time, Charlie could sense Franklin’s fear of this unknown.

  “I thought you should see it,” the Prime Minister said to Franklin. “I know my fate. We have seen the strigoii today with our own eyes, but your fate may still remain unwritten . . .”

  The Prime Minister slowly led them away from what appeared to be the spirits’ main thoroughfare and assembled them under a large tree.

  “You should all wait here,” the Prime Minister instructed. “As I said, there’s no guarantee your Billy is here, Charlie. But word should get out that you are looking for someone. I need to find a crevice or cave before the sun gets much higher. But I will see you again soon.”

  They watched as the Prime Minister turned and left. He walked back the way they had come and the swirling spirits parted as he passed, as though even they were afraid to touch him.

  — chapter 39 —

  Summers Should Last Forever

  ONCE THE PRIME Minister was out of sight, Franklin, Charlie, and Abigail sat at the base of the large tree among the ferns. With Charlie and Abigail on either side, Franklin put his heavy arms around them, pulling them in close as they watched the ghosts mill about. From time to time, Charlie thought he had recognized someone from back home, someone from his side of the mountains. At first it was hard to tell, but then he was sure that he saw their old mailman, Mr. Jenkins, as well as a face he recognized from a black-and-white picture that hung in the hallway back at school: a Mrs. McGowan, whom the gym was supposedly named for. But when Charlie called out to them, the spirits ignored him, choosing instead to linger around Abigail, hovering briefly over her before drifting away. Abigail was enjoying the attention; she smiled as the spirits approached and seemed happier than she had been their entire journey.

  As they sat there beneath the tree, Charlie lost track of time. Minutes could have been hours; it felt as though they had been there for days, and yet it also seemed like they had just arrived in this strange wood. He shoved his hands into his pockets and could feel the rough, bent, and folded edges of his photograph with Billy. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back against the trunk of the tree next to Franklin. He closed them to shut out all the faces that drifted past. As Franklin said, it was too much. There was only one person who Charlie really wanted to see, and that was Billy.

  Even with his eyes closed, Charlie could still feel the warm glow of the woods around him. He thought about Billy, picturing the tree over the river where they played and the day Billy dove into the cold water. Charlie remembered diving in after him and swimming down to the bottom over and over again, looking for Billy until he felt like his eardrums were about to burst and his lungs were burning. He remembered how he ran, tears streaming down his face, back to the barn to get Old Joe and how, after shouting up to the house to call for help, they both ran back and dove into the water to continue the search. The sheriff and the fire department joined them. But they never found him. They never found Billy.

  Charlie shivered at the thought, but as time passed, he felt the warmth wash over him again and let his mind wander to other things. To the good times he had with Billy that he had almost forgotten. He remembered when Billy first came to live with them, and how they played in the woods and camped in the mountains. He remembered long bike rides and fishing and the river, and summer afternoons spent in the sun in the branches of the great tree. Charlie and Billy would climb up together and sit among the leaves, catching their breath before they jumped in to swim, again and again.

  The sun shone bright as he sifted through these memories, and when he opened his eyes, the shafts of sunlight that found their way through the trees held the forest in a similar light. Franklin and Abigail were asleep, with Abigail tucked in under the Monster’s arm, and despite the stark contrast in their appearances, he thought they looked peaceful together. Charlie looked up at the trees. He noticed the dust in the air again, which continued to fall and swirl in the sunlight. As it danced this way and that, it seemed to cluster in a ball that was brighter than the rest. Charlie watched as it moved closer.

  “What are you doing here?” a voice called out, and Charlie felt something kick his foot. The warm glow rushed over him again, even stronger than before, and he turned to see the swirl of dust forming what he could just make out as a human form—a boy maybe, just a few years older than Charlie.

  “Billy?” Charlie asked, but the form moved closer to the other spirits, drifting deeper into the woods. Charlie quickly stood, trying to see where it went.

  “Billy, it’s me, Charlie!”

  But the form only moved farther away, so Charlie ran after it, calling, “Wait for me, Billy, wait!”

  Racing ahead, he quickly lost sight of it and soon found himself standing alone in a small clearing that was covered in ferns and wildflowers with trees that towered higher that he thought possible.

  “Billy!” Charlie called again. “Billy!”

  “Yes, Charlie . . . why are you shouting?”

  It was Billy, but his voice sounded distant, haunted.

  “And I’ll say it again. What are you doing here? What are you all doing here?”

  “It’s because of me, Billy! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Charlie couldn’t believe it. He glanced around frantically. “But where are you? I can’t see you . . .”

  The dust was settling down in front of Charlie, and he could slowly see Billy’s form shining brightly underneath. Still long and lanky, his hair a mess, he looked the same as the day he left, the same way he looked in the picture.

  “Billy, it is you!” Charlie exclaimed on the verge of tears.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Billy said, smiling. “And you? You’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m okay . . .”

  “I was scared when I saw you, Charlie. You look different from the rest of us, but I thought maybe—”

  “No. I’m not here the way you are,” Charlie said, barely able to contain himself. “We came a different way, Billy. You won’t believe where I’ve been . . .”

  “I might. It’s something, this side of the mountains, isn’t it? Right there all that time. But why, Charlie, why are you here?”

  “I had to find you, that’s why . . .”

  Charlie felt as though he was going to burst. It was really Billy. After all this time, it was really him.

 
“Oh, Billy, I don’t understand. Where did you go? Where have you been? Back at the river, you were there, then . . . then you were gone.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” Billy said. “I dove in. I remember hitting the water. It was cold and there was this weight—like I was getting pulled down—after that I was floating, kind of like I was swimming, but I wasn’t. I wandered around for a while and then saw others like me and followed them here.”

  As Billy spoke, he drifted closer to Charlie, taking on a more human shape.

  “I should have known. The river was too cold that day. I shouldn’t have jumped in . . . I guess it’s pretty obvious now . . . I didn’t make it, Charlie. I drowned.”

  Billy knelt down to look his cousin in the eye.

  “But you knew that, didn’t you? You’ve known it all along.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie whispered. “I guess I did. I just hoped . . .”

  Unable to hold back any longer, Charlie threw his arms around his cousin and finally let himself cry. He cried for Billy, letting go of the tears that had haunted him since that cold October day on the river.

  “It’s not fair, Billy, it’s just not fair,” Charlie sobbed. “I miss you so much and I never even got to say good-bye . . .”

  Billy waited awhile and then stood with his ghostly arm around Charlie’s shoulders.

  “It’ll be all right, you’ll see. Let’s go for a walk.”

  Billy led him farther into the woods.

  “You know, it’s not too bad being this way, actually. I mean, sometimes it’s just kinda boring. Walking back and forth, the same thing day after day. It’s a little like school, to be honest, but it’s fine, especially here in these woods. And the craziest thing is that now I’m somehow a part of everything—”

  “Don’t you miss us?” Charlie coughed.

  “Of course I do. But I can still feel you. It’s a bit like wandering around the house when everyone else is asleep. You wish you were asleep too, instead of all alone, but at least it’s a comfort to know someone’s there.”

  “But we miss you, Billy. Nothing’s the same since you’ve been gone.”

  “Of course it’s not the same, Charlie. Things change. That’s what life is all about, change. Some good, I guess. Some bad. Who knows what’s next—for any of us . . .”

  Billy stopped and turned to his cousin.

  “But you, you’ve got to let go. Your life back there has to go on.”

  “I just wish . . . I wish that day we had done something else,” Charlie said, tears streaming down his face. “I wish we hadn’t gone to the river. I wish that I could have—”

  “Come on, you couldn’t have done anything. It was an accident. If there’s one thing you learn here, it’s that accidents happen. They happen a whole lot.”

  “But, Billy—”

  “No, Charlie. Don’t you see?” Billy said. “There’s nothing you could have done. And you feeling guilty, being angry about it, it’s holding you back—Charlie, it’s holding me back too. It’s like what I felt pulling me down at the river. Your guilt, your anger, it’s all a part of my unfinished business.”

  “But I could have—”

  “No, Charlie. You couldn’t have,” Billy said, pulling his cousin into his arms.

  Remembering summer days in the tree, Charlie felt the warmth wash over him once more. That cold day in October seemed to leave, and he suddenly felt lighter, as though the weight, the guilt and confusion that sat in the pit of his stomach for over a year, had been lifted.

  “I know you couldn’t have done anything to save me that day. What happened wasn’t your fault. You’ve got to try to accept that, Charlie . . . do you understand?”

  Charlie nodded his head.

  “You sure?”

  Charlie took a deep breath. “I’m sure.”

  “There, that’s better.” Billy stood up a bit more and straightened himself. “You know what Old Joe would say here—”

  “He’d say chin up,” Charlie said with a small smile. It was good to feel his cheeks pushing up the sides of his face again.

  “That’s right, chin up. Now, come on. We don’t have much time, and I’d like to hang out with that goofball cousin of mine, not some old sad sack.” Billy shoved Charlie playfully. “Let’s go find the others too. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken with anyone from the other side. Wouldn’t want to waste the opportunity on the likes of you!”

  Charlie wiped the last of his tears on his sleeve and pushed Billy back.

  “It’s good to see you, Charlie.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Billy.”

  Billy shoved Charlie again as he walked ahead. “We can climb a few trees on the way too.”

  Charlie watched him for a moment before he followed.

  “Okay.”

  “And you won’t believe how much faster I am here,” Billy said.

  “Oh yeah, I could catch you,” Charlie replied. “You know how fast I am.”

  “We’ll see about that! You couldn’t catch me before. What makes you think you can now?”

  Charlie raced a few steps toward Billy, but he was already gone.

  “Not even close!” Billy said with a laugh. He was now standing behind Charlie. “You run like a turtle.”

  “A turtle?” Charlie turned to lunge at him, but Billy dodged him again, and they ran this way, laughing and stopping to climb the towering trees, all the way to where they left Franklin and Abigail.

  — chapter 40 —

  Abigail’s Departure

  WHEN CHARLIE AND Billy found Franklin and Abigail again, they were still sleeping at the base of the tree. Abigail woke as Billy and Charlie approached, which startled Franklin.

  “Charlie,” Franklin said. He sat up and looked around suspiciously. “Any luck?”

  But Abigail had already answered the question by reaching out toward Billy, who took her hand and pulled her to her feet. When he touched her, Billy’s form fully appeared.

  “I’d like to thank you,” Billy said, now extending his hand to Franklin. “Thank you for watching out for this knucklehead.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” The Monster accepted the offer and climbed to his feet. “Franklin—”

  “Prometheus,” Billy said, smiling, with no reaction to Franklin’s gruesome appearance. “I know who you are. Everyone knows the Monster of all Monsters. I’m Billy.”

  Billy turned back to Abigail, who was awash in his glow.

  “But, tell me, who is this?”

  “This is Abigail Rose,” Charlie started, and with Abigail’s help, he relayed the story as to how she came to be here with them in the trees. He also told Billy what he had read concerning the lost in the book that Franklin had given him, about the confusion of those whose paths are interrupted, or sometimes unsettled.

  “We thought, perhaps, this is where she is meant to be?” Franklin offered.

  “Abigail Rose, I believe we’ve been looking for you,” Billy said, confirming their theory.

  “For me?” Abigail replied. She seemed to blush at Billy’s attention.

  “You should return to the beach,” Billy suggested. “I’ll ask around about Miss Abigail and find you there tonight.”

  “But, Billy—” Charlie began.

  “It’ll be fine, Charlie. You’ll see. I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

  Billy walked them back toward the strigoii and held the cursed creatures at a distance until they passed over the fallen rocks and were on their way toward the beach. Charlie felt better as they walked, as if the warmth of the strange woods had stayed with him.

  It was almost dark and a heavy mist was drifting off the water when Charlie, Franklin, and Abigail finally left the woods. Down the beach, they could barely see the fire from their camp through the fog.

  “It will be good to see I
gnacio,” Charlie said as they approached. But they all stopped at the edge of the firelight. Their little campsite had changed.

  Now there was a shelter of stones and driftwood, as well as other structures made from lashed timber and branches to protect their stores from the weather. The Ranger sat huddled by the fire, seemingly unaware of their arrival.

  “I see you have been busy,” Franklin called out to him.

  Ignacio turned abruptly, as though awoken from a sound sleep.

  “Busy?” he called back.

  “Yes. With the shelter . . . You made good time,” Franklin said as they stepped closer to the fire.

  “Good time? Why, I would imagine! I’ve only had, what’s it been, a week?”

  “A week?” Franklin said with a laugh. “Don’t be absurd. Why, we only left this morning.”

  “This morning, that’s a good one. After a few days, I thought you’d abandoned me.” Ignacio pulled back his hood. “Went in for a look when you didn’t return but saw nothing. Some amazing trees back there, but no sign of you. No tracks, no trail . . . nothing—it was like you just disappeared.”

  “But it’s true! We’ve only been gone a day,” Charlie insisted, although he noticed that the Ranger’s beard was fuller than he remembered.

  “I’m afraid not. I’ve been sittin’ here the whole time,” Ignacio continued. “You all look well, at least. Glowing, actually. Must be the fresh air.”

  “And the Prime Minister?” Franklin asked, looking a bit wary at the Ranger’s perplexing news.

  “Haven’t seen him, been a few birds about, otherwise just me and that bear friend of yours. Gave me a scare on more than one occasion, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “A whole week?” Charlie repeated to himself, wondering how many trees he and Billy climbed while they were there.

  Franklin looked up at the few stars that had broken through the settling mist. “I suppose anything is possible after what we have seen.”

  “It was glorious,” Abigail sighed, stepping closer to the fire.