Dead Twin Sister

by Jack Wallen

  Don’t forget to double tap, luv.

  Al was right. If this were a film, I’d let it go at that and two minutes later, find myself fighting against an even bitchier foe. And so, I doubled down on the Honda and folded the hunk of metal until it was the size of a Marshall amp.

  I stopped the flow of force and collapsed, exhausted from the effort.

  Holy Ronnie James Dio, that was the single greatest show of badass since the birth of Henry Rollins, Grog. Al raised his voice to echo in the chamber of my head. You did it.

  “Damn it, Al, I wish you were here, so I could give you a proper hug.”

  It’s the thought that counts, right?

  We shared a quick laugh, one that was cut off way too short, as a teeth-gnashing screech rose from the rusted metal square. The sound continued to a fever pitch as ribbons of flesh snaked from the cracks and crevices.

  Grog, is that what—

  Before I could respond, the hunk of car exploded to reveal my doppelgänger, glowing red and reformed in the flesh, hovering a foot from the ground. She smiled, a sight that made my stomach churn and burn.

  “That was a nice little bit of magic, Grog. Too bad you didn’t kill me, because now … you die.”

  My hands came together … too late. The lich lashed out with an energy my body could barely suffer—it flowed through me, like a river of molten lava, threatening to undo every muscle, organ, bone, and liquid.

  Al begged for a mercy I could not deliver; his scream thrashed at my heart, begged me to do something more.

  The evil twin drew near. “You seriously thought you could best me? Here? This is my playground, the very center of my power. Within this realm, I am second to only one being—he who gave me my mission and strength. I think you know his name. Why don’t you say it for me?”

  The lich doubled down on her power, to send me into grand mal seizures.

  “Say his fucking name or you die now!”

  I opened my mouth to utter the three syllables. “Vau—” A wave of unbearable agony stopped the second half of the name short. Even if I wanted to utter the remainder of the nom de pain, the mechanisms of my mouth would not comply.

  A Medusa head of tendon and vein snaked off the lich’s skull and slowly made its way to me. I could feel the slithering tendons wrap around my feet and calves first, squeezing tight until everything below the knee went numb.

  Still they climbed. Each living rope bore down, tenderizing the meat beneath my flesh. The bitch was going to liquify me and feed on a Grog smoothie.

  No matter how I struggled, there was no escaping the veiny sarcophagus. My hands were bound to my sides, so I couldn’t form a mudra. This was it, the end of me. There was no life passing before my eyes—no regret, no shame. I’d lived a hell of an existence, rocked like there was no tomorrow, and danced like everyone was watching, all the time. I was me from birth to death. No excuses, no boundaries. I was proud to know I defined Grog Rox, not some corporate entity, organized religion, or minds narrowed by too much of the same. My biggest regret at the moment was that I had to die without saying goodbye to those I loved.

  Grog.

  Except for Al. There was always Al.

  Tears rained down onto my cheeks at the sound of his voice.

  “I love you, Al.”

  And I you.

  “I’m so sorry I’ve failed you and everyone else.”

  You’ve failed no one, luv. And I’m not about to fail you.

  A dark shadow encompassed my heart—in perfect conjunction with the veins of my dead twin sister, as they engulfed my body.

  Grog, Al repeated my name.

  A grapefruit-sized lump formed in my throat. “Yeah?”

  I want you to know how proud I am of you and Drew. You two are going to do great things together.

  “That’s going to be a challenge, considering I’m about to come to a premature end.”

  Ballocks, Al snapped. Not on my watch.

  Conscious thought tripped over Al’s meaning. However, tucked in the deeper recesses of my heart, I was fairly certain I understood what was about to happen. All the while, my mind wanted desperately to reject this particular reality.

  “Don’t do this, Al.”

  You know there is no choice, Grog.

  “You also don’t know if whatever you’re scheming will work, damn it.”

  Sorry, luv, I have to try. Your life is on the line and the world is not ready to lose you yet.

  “Please, Al, don’t.”

  I’ve truly enjoyed spending time inside your brain, Grog. It is a many-splendored thing. If the world had more of you, it wouldn’t be spiraling down such a bleak drain. When you escape this wretched hell, promise me you’ll take care of yourself. And Drew—you know he could use a bit of your guidance when it comes to matters of health. Maybe you could drag his ass into a yoga studio? And, before I forget, the new album kicks serious ass. I’m so jealous I can’t be a part of it. Make sure my replacement isn’t as pretty as me. Have fun touring and don’t forget to eat your veggies.

  I couldn’t stop Al. No matter how desperately I wanted to prevent him from doing what I feared, he did what Al always did—put others before himself. In a heart-wrenching silence, he left the confines of my head. Shortly after Al’s departure, a demonic feedback loop accosted me, the sound of a hundred shrieks and pleas that would go unanswered for eternity.

  The voices moshing within my skull belonged to her.

  Everything the doppelgänger had done flashed before my eyes. Mixed in with the previously on were images of Al—grinning and sweating behind his kit, toasting Drew and me for a show well done, laughing, smiling, cracking jokes, and just generally being one of the most awesome humans I’d ever known.

  Until it stopped. Everything. The song of Al’s voice in my mind fell silent; the horrific threats of the lich were no more. I was utterly and profoundly alone.

  Before I had a chance to breathe, the world opened up before me. Ribbons of rotting sinew lay scattered about—the only sign of what had been my greatest enemy.

  “Al?” I whispered, knowing full-well there was no chance for an answer. I’d lost my dear friend for a second time—only this dance with the Grim Reaper was done in order to save me. Al had given up his one last chance for existence in order to protect me and the band from a most certain death.

  The ultimate sacrifice.

  Gravity pulled me to my knees. A flood of tears peppered the dusty ground. I hadn’t felt this alone in all of my life. Two dear friends … gone. My world and heart were broken beyond repair. The Dark Seduction had bested my spirit once again.

  I remained down, hoping I’d finally get my Hollywood ending and Al’s gentle voice would return. That psychosis, I’d be willing to live with.

  No matter how much I wished for it, the profound silence in my head remained. That was it.

  “Goodbye, Al.” Two words squeezed a vise against the meat of my heart. From within to without, I was crushed; spirit, body, and mind.

  I had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Eventually, I managed to pull myself up and stand on wobbly legs. I was covered in sweat, blood, and who knew what else. A sloppy, sticky, web of vein dropped from my shoulder and hit the ground with a wet splat. I couldn’t be certain if it was the energy I’d expended, or the sickening sound and vision of the organic glob; either way, I hurled a most powerful rainbow of chunks to mingle with what remained of my dead twin sister.

  Once the spasms faded, I spat a mouthful of bile toward the fleshy mound that was the doppelgänger. “Serves you right, bitch.”

  The house was gone—or, to be more precise, had been reduced to a pile of sticks and dust. That building had been my totem for entry and exit to and through The Dark Seduction.

  “Well shit. Now what, girl?”

  There was no bit of hand magic that would teleport me back to Drew. Without Thessia I was lost in this bleak landscape.

  A bolt of lightning cracked down from the crimson sky. When
the billion volts of electricity faded, a book remained before me. Where it came from, I had no idea. This was, after all, The Seduction—a realm where the unthinkable and impossible were commonplace. Hesitantly, I picked up the tan leather tome and instantly felt a wave of regret wash through my arms and into my heart.

  I read the title, written in a deep burgundy scrollwork. “De Verborum Mortem?” I asked the surrounding universe. Naturally, I was greeted by silence.

  Against my better judgement, I cracked open the book, only to be greeted by blank pages.

  “What the bloody hell is this about?”

  I held the book in my left hand and made to flip through the pages. As I watched each piece of ancient paper zip by, something formed in the action—a creeptastic animation, glowing red, that announced my means of egress from The Dark Seduction.

  A spell.

  This was a most crucial crossroads. Should I trust some unknown book, tossed down to me from a bleeding sky in a realm that had been hell-bent on killing everyone I loved? Or should I wander this desolate nightmare, constantly looking over my shoulder in fear Vau-eal was ready to strike me down.

  “That’s a no-brainer.” I recited the sentence that formed in the animation. “Cum autem potentia sine nomine, plana mortalis cupio putei abyssi.”

  The book snapped shut and vanished before my very eyes. In its wake, The Seduction folded in upon itself and sucked me through. With a body-racking, violent spasm, I found myself standing, face-to-face, with Drew in the studio.

  SEVENTEEN

  Don’t leave me standing on the outside where two plus two equals five

  “Where’d she go?” Drew shouted, his eyes glazed over with a crazy sheen. “She was standing right there and now she’s—”

  Upon my first inhalation of the studio air, my legs gave out and consciousness left the building of my mind. There was no dreamscape to be found, no Dark Seduction to claim my sanity. A bittersweet emptiness cradled my spirit.

  No Al.

  No Thessia.

  No nothing.

  It was the first time, in a long time, I felt some semblance of peace.

  Perchance to scream.

  ***

  When I came to, Drew hovered over me, a look of deep concern etched across his face; the eye of the Spectral lens was trained on me, from over his shoulder.

  “She’s clean,” Dizzy announced, as he unshouldered the camera.

  Drew helped me into a seated position. “What happened, Grog?”

  “You won’t believe it,” I mumbled.

  “After the shitstorm we’ve been through, I believe in Santa Claus again. And the bloody Easter Rabbit.”

  “Bunny,” Bella mumbled.

  With as much detail as I could muster, I recounted the battle that thad taken place in The Dark Seduction. For whatever reason, I opted to leave out the part about Al being along for the ride. That variable of the equation was mine to keep. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Drew to know; after all, Al loved that man as much as I. Al existing inside my head, for a brief period, was a secret for me alone to cherish. That goodbye would live within me for the rest of my days; it would fuel my fire and inspire my art.

  “So no more dead twin sister?” Bella asked with caution.

  I shook my head. “She’s gone for good.”

  Drew patted my hand, as if I were his grandma. “And you’re sure of that?”

  “I am.” I fought back a fresh round of tears. The only way I’d escape this moment with my heart intact would be a quick change of subject. As much as I’d like to deconstruct what had occurred within The Seduction, we were up against a deadline. Besides, I’d gone through enough with that place to last an entire life. Two, actually. Never before have I felt so profoundly that this world is most certainly not big enough for one lifetime. “Where do we stand with the recording, Drew?”

  “Everything’s in the can. All that’s left is the mastering.” Drew’s response was prideful.

  My reply was not. “I only remember recording a few tracks. Is there any chance…”

  Drew’s face flushed before he shouted, “Tony!”

  Nothing.

  We all turned to the window that stood between the control and live room, to see the engineer slowly swaying. The look on his face seemed bereft of any intelligence.

  “Son of a bitch,” I moaned. “Please don’t tell me Tony’s a zombie. After everything I’ve had to deal with, if that man is a member of the undead nation, I am going to rip off his head and piss down his open throat.”

  Everyone turned to me, shocked at the violence spewing from my mouth.

  “I’m kidding, guys. Relax. I wouldn’t really rip off the man’s head. Unless he was a zombie.” I tossed the last part off as a quiet aside. Thankfully, no one heard.

  Drew rushed out of the room, only to then appear behind the glass at Tony’s side. To our collective relief, Tony didn’t crack Drew’s skull and scoop up his brains for a bit of afternoon delight. Instead, he snapped out of whatever Michael Myers trance he was riding and followed Drew into the live room.

  “So here’s the deal, mate. Don’t ask why, but you need to scrap all of Grog’s tracks. And by scrap, I mean delete every damn copy you have. No record of those recordings can ever exist beyond this moment. Leave no possible hope for a sequel. Period. We’re going to start over with her in the morning—as if not one bloody note had been sung.”

  “Why?”

  Drew released a heavy sigh. “I told you not to ask why.”

  Tony nodded. “I know, but time is money, my friend. Gordon’ll crap his shorts when he hears we’re shitcanning that much work.”

  I stepped into the fray. “Who says he has to know? We’ll do it, work our asses off, and it’ll be done. No one will be the wiser.”

  “I will be the wiser. I have a schedule to keep. Three bands happen to be on a waiting list right now. I can’t afford to push them back.”

  “We can record at night. Hell, Drew can man the console. I could even try to work out a deal with D’Queen. They asked me to record something with them. I’m certain I can get the band to share a bit of their time in exchange.”

  Tony raised his palms to me. “That’s between you and them. You get those girls to hand over studio time, I’m fine with it. As long as I’m getting paid, a gang of naked clowns could come in and record Slim Whitman covers.”

  “Brilliant,” I squealed.

  “As for Drew manning my console, as you Brits say, piss off. You want to work at night, I’ll put the extra time in.” Tony shrugged. “Color me crazy, but I like you kids. That and Gordon is sending a ton of work my way.

  Tony offered me the number for D’Queen’s manager. After only the slightest bit of coaxing, I was able to finagle two full days in the studio, in return for signing over all rights to royalties for my part in a D’Queen/Die So Fluid crossover. Drew even agreed to appear on the track. We were perfectly fine with the trade. Besides, I’d been meaning to stretch my artistic wings for a while and this would be the perfect opportunity.

  Before I left the control room, Tony cleared his throat to garner my attention. “By the way, the album is going to be fucking amazing. Gordon was right, you guys are destined for greatness.”

  The sentiment struck me hard—mostly because it reflected similar words spoken by Al. That our new manager had been so effusive about us to the man mastering our new album didn’t hurt.

  It felt so good that everything was finally coming together. I’d completely escaped The Seduction’s grasp. Al’s memory was forever emblazoned on my heart. Our new material kicked ass. Gordon was our new hero. And Dizzy and Bella had turned out to be some pretty fantastic allies in the mix.

  The only thing that remained was to get ‘One Bullet From Paradise’ recorded and mount a tour unlike anything Die So Fluid had ever produced. After all, merch wasn’t about to sell itself.

  I was exhausted. My body utterly incapable of producing tones worthy of recording. As much as I hated to
waste a day that could be put to massively important use, I was better off relaxing with friends.

  The four of us piled into the car, agreed on Chinese carryout, and a night of bingeing horror films. Each of us chose our favorite fright, promising not to give away the titles until credits rolled. The first film up was Bella’s. I was pleasantly surprised when the opening scene to Jeff Goldblum’s remake of The Fly appeared on the telly.

  “Respect,” Drew said through a mouthful of lo mein. He pointed his chopsticks at the screen and mumbled, “Had a huge crush on Geena Davis, back in the day.”

  “Who didn’t?” I added.

  “Geena who?” Dizzy tossed off the unfortunate question.

  Drew sent Dizzy a glare that was certain to boil the young man’s egg drop soup. Dizzy shot his hands into the air in mock surrender. “I’m teasing. Of course, I know who Geena Davis is. Hello, film student here.”

  “First film?” Drew rattled off the question without a second’s pause.

  Tootsie, Dizzy answered immediately.

  “First major award?”

  “Nineteen eighty-eight, she won an Oscar for her role in The Accidental Tourist.”

  Drew slowly nodded and raised his bottle to Dizzy. They tapped glass and each took a deep pull from their respective drinks.

  I had to admit, I was glad the chosen films bore no resemblance to the horror I’d endured within The Dark Seduction. Truth be told, I would have been happy with a night of rom coms—just to keep my mind off blood red skies, Vau-eal, and doppelgängers.

  “Cheers,” Drew held his bottle to me. The sound of our beers clinking together was a music I desperately needed.

  “To Al,” I offered.

  Drew’s mouth tilted slightly. After a blink and a nod, he tipped the bottle back and drank deep, in loving memory of our dearest friend.

  As Brundlefly slowly revealed itself, my nerves twisted. I didn’t want to find myself that girl, afraid of every shadow and bump in the night. I’d fought back demons and other dark monsters—a spot of horror should be nothing to me.

  Drew sensed my trepidation. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in. “You’ve nothing to fear, luv. I will always be by your side.”