Beyond Anon

by Giglio, Peter

  The front door opened.

  “Michelle, is that you?” Faith called out.

  Michelle stepped into the living room and glanced at the TV screen. “Still trying to pull him out with his favorite show, huh?”

  Ignoring the snide question, Faith said, “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a pariah. Not even Laura wants to hang with me anymore, so—”

  “No great loss,” Faith blurted, wishing she could take back the remark. She didn’t want to be combative with Michelle anymore than she had to, but responses like that just seemed to drop from her mouth.

  “What’s your problem with her?”

  Faith bit her tongue and looked over at her father. He snored, eyes now lidded. “Let’s talk about it later,” she whispered. “We don’t wanna wake your Pa.”

  “No. Let’s talk about it now, Faith. Nothing we say is going to wake him up.”

  “Call me mom, Michelle. I’m your mother.”

  “I’m not in the mood for biology lessons right now. I want to know about your problem with Laura. She knows you hate her, but I just don’t understand. I get why you’re unhappy with me, I’m a big fat loser, but what do you have against my only friend?”

  “Michelle, I don’t have anything against Laura. But a young lady needs to consider her associations. Her father was always in trouble with the law, and that mother of hers, well, she’s done questionable things to get by.”

  “Just say it. Marlene Gore is a stripper.”

  “I didn’t say that, Mich—”

  “Isn’t that what you’re talking about? I hate how everyone in this town dances around what they’re really trying to say. Like the kids at school, veiling their hatred for me with stupid jokes. A pack of racists that gives up the ‘n’ word is still a pack of fucking racists!”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Faith stood and crossed her arms. “Why don’t you let me make you some hot chocolate like I used to.” She fought the edge out of her voice but knew her tone betrayed tension. “After we put your Pa to bed, we’ll sit up all night gabbing, just like old times. You might even find out that your ol’ mom isn’t as bad as you think she is.”

  “When I was twelve years old, and you were still my mom, I asked you to quit your job and take us far away from here. Do you remember that?”

  “Yes, sweetie, but it wasn’t that simple.”

  “When you said no and laughed at my request, you lost me forever.”

  “But I—”

  “Maybe you never stripped like Marlene Gore—that wouldn’t be ladylike—but you did something much worse; you bared your soul to a vile man and let him take it, then you gave yourself to the company that destroyed us. I was ready to forgive you for everything you’d put us through, ready to move on, but you treated me like a child when I tried to get us away from here.”

  “Michelle, you were a child.”

  “What does age have to do with anything? I was the one who saw the truth.”

  “The truth—what the hell do you know about the truth?”

  “Not much. Not anymore. Thanks to you, bitch.”

  “You were only twelve,” Faith pleaded.

  “A twelve-year-old who’d killed two people! A twelve-year-old who’d been dragged through hell! Who’d been forced to silently grieve in solitude for a sister who’d been wiped from everyone’s memory.”

  “Michelle, we’ve been through all that before. You have a…a very creative imagination, but—”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No. I just think that the trauma of everything you went through caused you to fill in the gaps. You were only a little girl. You didn’t kill anybody—I just can’t believe that.”

  “Just like you don’t believe I’m really gay.” Michelle turned and started up the stairs.

  “I just think you’re confused, sweetie,” Faith said. “I think it’s normal that you’d feel the way you do, what with all the bad male role models in your life.”

  Halfway up the staircase, Michelle spun around. “You must be kidding? Bad male role models? My father—you remember him, don’t you?—was the perfect man before Rory Ellison stepped into our lives. And don’t even think about saying a bad word about Pa.”

  “You know what I mean, Michelle.”

  “Let me give you a little biology lesson, Faith. This is just who I am, so deal with it. I didn’t choose this life, any aspect of it, and I’d give anything to make things easier on myself. If I could take a pill tomorrow that made me dumb and comfortable, like everyone else around here, that’s one rabbit hole I’d scurry down fast as I could.”

  “Michelle—”

  “But I can’t. I can’t!”

  “I just want you to be happy, sweetie.”

  Rushing up the remaining stairs, Michelle shouted, “Great fucking job, Mom!”

  4

  Listening to the argument, Reggie stood in Michelle’s bedroom and looked at the family portrait hanging on her wall. Cale, Faith, Michelle, Dawn—smiling brightly for the camera without a care in the world. Based on the ages of the twins, he placed the picture at less than a year before his brother first entered the Breedlove home. Other than the framed keepsake, the walls of Michelle’s room were unadorned. This struck him as strange.

  The door creaked opened.

  “Hello, Reggie,” Michelle said. All of the anger drained from her voice in an instant; she sounded timid and fearful.

  “Sorry I keep showing up at the wrong moment,” he said. The time he spent in The Old World, though infrequent, was not by his design.

  She sat in a rocking chair, though she didn’t rock, and stared at him, hands and lips trembling. “You showed up when it counted before. So I’ll let you live.”

  Reggie chuckled, genuine warmth flooding his core, and it felt good. For a moment, he almost felt alive, part of this world again. A flurry of memories, near but distant—real sunlight on his face, real air in his lungs—filled him with a longing he hadn’t allowed in a long time.

  The Land of Light was a place of magic and wonder. But it was nothing compared to the comforts of terra firma at its finest. That rumination brought a degree of sorrow. His time here had been far too short.

  He sat on the edge of Michelle’s bed and looked into the long mirror on the bathroom door. The surface didn’t hold his reflection, a reminder he wasn’t really there. Just like a vampire. That thought hurt, because that’s what he was, in a way, a monster offering a type of immortality—an existence that paled in comparison to what Michelle had right now.

  “Talk to me, Reggie,” she said. “And don’t give me instructions this time. I deserve answers, not camcorder tutorials. I’m not a desperate child anymore. I have options.”

  “The pattern should already be clear to you.”

  “Clear as mud. All I really know for sure is that Anon comes to town, the town flourishes, then they leave and the town dies. I get that, but on the surface it isn’t that impressive. Hell, I’ve tracked nearly a dozen companies around the globe that do the same thing.”

  “The pattern is familiar, that’s part of why it’s so effective. But The Game is another matter.” He looked at Michelle, clocking the resentment in her expression. It stung. Once upon a time, he’d played the role of her savior. Now he was nothing more than the giver of bad tidings.

  “So that’s what this is? A fucking game?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Why the hell should I play? When I was caught up in this mess as a kid, I thought all of it meant something. A struggle between Heaven and Hell, between good and evil—life and death shit that really counted. And now you tell me that pulling the trigger, losing Dawn, all of it is nothing more than a game?”

  “Michelle, I don’t expect you to like what I have to tell you. But I do know that The Game keeps the wheels of existence and the tides of time—The Flow—in motion. Ours is The Game of Light and Shadow, the most important struggl
e. And if our efforts cease, everything ends. I’d call that a matter of life and death, wouldn’t you?”

  “I already suspect that I’m not leaving for college in the fall,” Michelle said.

  Reggie nodded.

  “And I can only assume that you want me to go to work for Anon instead.”

  “Your intuition is alarming.”

  “But why? I see movements, but I still don’t understand them.”

  “None of this was ever meant to be so complicated. For eons, light and shadow played The Game without direct interaction from The Old World. Mortals were merely pawns, unaware of the parts they played.”

  “The Old World?”

  “Your world. The real world.”

  “So you’re saying that—”

  “As the chicken and egg theory goes, this world came first. Many of the living assume that it’s the other way around; that the heavens—depending on one’s religious bent—created life on Earth. But that’s not true. Mankind, a force of nature if ever there was one, by believing in higher powers, willed The Dominions, including The Land of Light and The Land of Shadow, into existence. And, as I said, these lands, made up of select souls from The Old World—echoes of life, more accurately—battled for ages, unseen and unheard, determining, to a large extent, the outcome of events here.”

  “Echoes of life?”

  “I’m nothing more than a vibration, Michelle. A strong vibration that will exist for thousands of years, but a vibration nonetheless. I’m not really alive. I’ll never grow. Never feel human touch. Though I can reach out and touch you, I can’t feel you. In other words, I’m real to you, but nothing in this world is real to me.”

  “So you don’t really care about me or what happens to me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But if I’m not real to you then why would you give a shit about me?”

  “I love you very much, Michelle. I love all light and dark aspects of this world, but I love you the most.”

  “Dark aspects?”

  “You’re a dark aspect, Michelle. Dawn was your light aspect, just like Rory was my dark aspect.”

  “So I’m evil?”

  “No. Far from it. You’re more capable of being corrupted than a light aspect but—”

  “Dark implies evil where I’m from, pal.”

  Reggie shook his head. “The shadows are evil, Michelle. Gray beings that can remake themselves as situations warrant. Wolves in sheep’s clothing. Dark and Light aspects are pure beings that share special connections with their counterparts. Your sister, Dawn, was the strongest light aspect. You are the strongest dark aspect.”

  A sly smile crept onto Michelle’s lips, though distress didn’t leave her face entirely. “And what does that honor grant me?”

  “For one, the ability to see the world for what it is. You mentioned that you see movements; that’s part of it. You can see me and, given the right conditions, can break the barriers of your world. But, as a dark aspect that’s bereft of her light counterpart, you’re in constant danger. The entity known as Anon is almost ready to leave this town, but they won’t leave without you, if they can help it.”

  “So I’m corruptible.”

  “You are, but that’s only half of it. They could find another corruptible dark aspect, as they have before. But unlike my brother and others like him, you’re special. If they leave here with you, their power will peak.”

  “So that they can topple larger towns? Feed off more dreams? Stay in The Old World indefinitely?”

  “No, Michelle. If they leave here with you, they win. The Land of Light and The Old World would fall under their control. That’s the prize for winning The Game.”

  “What if we win?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hardly reassuring.” Michelle got up and stormed across the room, her face turning a bright shade of red. Back turned to Reggie, she said, “There are larger companies than Anon, stronger people than I, more important places than this. Why here? Why now? Why me?”

  “It’s just the way it is, Michelle.”

  She turned around slowly, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you want me to go to them? To work for them?”

  “Running from them is the worst thing you can do, Michelle. Look what happened when you ran from them before.”

  “Lacy died?”

  “They’ll always stay a step ahead of you. They’ll always gain an edge when you run. But if you face them, head on, you even the playing field. The Game rewards courage.”

  “Your father told me that some organizations are inherently evil and some are good.”

  Reggie nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So Anon was an inevitability.”

  “Yes. But it’s become more than an evil entity. It’s a unique strain, a fast-moving virus that’s more powerful than others of its kind. The shadows found a loophole, a crack in time. I don’t understand how they did it, but they were able to introduce a new factor into the equation, a man named Miles Winslow. He literally feeds off the dreams of others. By inserting a mortal into the game, they changed it forever.”

  “A man? A mere man?”

  “Hitler was only a man, Michelle. Look at the damage he did. You’re only a teenage girl.”

  “What’s this guy’s endgame?”

  “To, quite simply, avoid an endgame. What he’s doing keeps him young and alive. The Land of Shadows has other plans, of course, things that Winslow is blind to or doesn’t care about. For now he’s content with the arrangement, using his powers to provide the same benefits for the other three board members.”

  “So that they’ll keep playing The Game.”

  “Yes. True immortality, not like the stasis I exist in, is a powerful incentive, don’t you think?”

  “And my mother? What’s her part in all this?”

  “She’s how they keep an eye on you. But she doesn’t realize that. She knows what they’re doing, for the most part, but she thinks she’s keeping you safe. Really, she’s nothing more than a device, a bug, living in constant denial.”

  “So they know we’re having this conversation?”

  “Likely.”

  “And that’s what, all just part of The Game?”

  Reggie shrugged. “Welcome to my world, Michelle.”

  —Chapter Three—

  1

  Leaving the morning sales meeting early, Faith sped through the narrow corridor that linked the meeting rooms to the call center. In need of her office and the relative comfort it would provide, she wanted to shut the door for the rest of the day and have Claire hold her calls.

  Something was off. An indefinable sense of dread. Faith didn’t do well on the ass-end of anxiety.

  “Mrs. Breedlove,” a man called out. The voice belonged to Carson Stewart, an ambitious but mostly moronic mid-level manager.

  She stopped abruptly but didn’t turn around to face him.

  “I have that report after all,” he said. “It was hiding under a—”

  “The next time I ask for something,” she snapped, “I want it yesterday.” Flicking her eyes in his general direction, but not really looking at him, she heaved a sigh and snatched the report.

  “I’m…sorry,” he stammered.

  She shooed him away and stared at her reflection in a tinted window. Beyond the glass, the day was bright. Perfect. Birds were no doubt singing, children playing, dogs barking, sprinklers sputtering. Here in the corridor, a sterile cocoon, her stomach churned in time with the air-conditioner, and her mind swam.

  Is my face really that pale? Have I really lost that much weight?

  She moved into profile, concerned by her sickly form, and vowed to eat a large lunch. Not that she was hungry. Never was anymore. But she’d force the carbs down, and she’d do it alone. If all went well maybe she could slip out of today without another nerve-shattering interaction.

  It wasn’t that easy. A few strides through the noisy call center, she spotted Megan Willis bangin
g the side of a copier, a sour look on her face.

  “Megan!” Faith boomed.

  The young woman jumped and spun. “Y-yes, Mrs. Breedlove.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be cross-training unit seven this morning?”

  “Uh, yes, but the copier’s jammed and—”

  Faith smacked the Stewart report across her forehead. “That’s why you make copies the night before, Megan.”

  “Well, I did, but I got a memo just thirty minutes ago that—”

  “Save it. I pay you for results, not excuses. I hope I don’t need to tell you that again.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Most mornings, Faith felt better after establishing control over associates. Keeping them in line was something she did well. Hers was the top-performing division in the company, boasting the lowest turnover rate. Results counted, and she didn’t mind being a bitch, even considered it her greatest asset. But as she continued toward her office, she didn’t feel her spirits buoy.

  The diamond patterns in the maroon carpet seemed to spin at her. She felt like she was floating, not walking.

  At the receptionist station, she leaned across the desk. “Claire,” she said.

  “Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Breedlove?” Concern creased the young woman’s brow.

  Faith shook her head. “Can you…can you get me something from the deli?”

  “Sure. What would you like?”

  “Surprise me. Just make it something with a lot of meat and bread. Must be low blood sugar this morning. I forgot to have breakfast.”

  “No problem. By the way, the Board of Directors is waiting in your office.”

  “The Board?” Faith said, eyes shooting wide.

  “They walked in about ten minutes ago. Mr. Winslow said you knew they were coming.”

  She searched her mental planner and came up empty. She thought about reaching into her leather bag for her iPad, but she knew the meeting wouldn’t be there either. Yet Winslow was, as always, right. The pit of her stomach had been screaming all morning that he was coming.