“Still, he was so protective of you. It’s strange.” Phillip searched the sky, seeming to contemplate the complexities of our fraternal relationship. “How is it that Everett was here?” he asked.
“I saw him before. In the hospital. After they let me out of the hyperbaric chamber,” I revealed. “Dr. Griffin had me convinced he was a hallucination. But he was wrong. I guess it’s not much different from how Thomas Gouldman was able to communicate with us on a tape. Everett’s able to store his energy and communicate with us as his former self.”
“I’d prefer he use a tape,” Phillip stated dryly.
I should’ve been afraid of Phillip after what Everett suggested he had done to Ginger—not to mention what I knew he had done to me. But in his presence, without the influence of Everett, I couldn't see anything but the gentle Phillip I had always known. “Don't worry about Everett,” I said. “He was only acting on what he had seen through the window. Or bits he had picked up in the wind. He didn’t know the whole story. And after everything today, Everett won't have the energy to come back for a long time.”
Phillip let out a sigh of relief and then slumped onto the hood of the pickup. “When Ginger disappeared, I began to reevaluate everything about my life. And it goes without saying that if anything deserved further examination, it was that night we had planned to prank Ian. For once, I tried remembering it without blinders on. I tried to see it as it truly was. And there was one thing I couldn’t reconcile. One thing I could never explain. When we waited in the woods while Everett and Todd were fighting, I saw something.” He scratched his head. “It was a woman. From the trees.” My heart began skipping in double beats as Phillip spoke of recalling her. “I thought it was some kind of false memory. That I must’ve been crazy.”
“You weren’t crazy,” I assured him.
“No. I wasn’t. And when I realized that, I had an awakening. I thought if she was real, then the creatures Everett spoke of being out in the cornfield that night could be real. And if they were real, then everything Everett said to me on that ride home was possible, including your abilities.” He lifted his head. “It all came down to that memory of her. It’s why I brought you here,” he revealed. “It was my link to the idea that you could help—because I saw her. Touched her. Felt her skin. And her hair made of branches.” He paused to concentrate, still processing recovered bits of information. He was slow to draw out his words. “I kissed her. And there was something else . . .” He stopped short of fully recounting what I knew had actually taken place. “If only I could go back. If only I could do it again, I’d pay more attention this time. Make sure my mind stayed clear.”
I leaned closer to him. “Do you want to?” I asked. “Do it again, I mean?”
Phillip shook his head as if he were sobering up from a dream. He restated the mission: “I want to find Ginger.”
35
Another Version of Me
I stood on the outside with the sun warming the back of my neck. Tall weeds and wild oats danced in the breeze, scratching my legs. I felt incredibly small before the massive black curtain that enveloped the entire woods. It draped over the treetops like a giant magician’s scarf waiting to unveil some wondrous trick. I walked its perimeter, curious, wondering just what secrets were hidden beneath. I came across a narrow slit in the heavy fabric exposed by the wind. I peeked inside but could only see darkness. I turned to the scene behind me: the sun blazing on the overgrown field, my parents’ house in the distance. It felt like I had been placed back in time to my favorite summer so many years ago. Yet as much as I wanted to, I knew I mustn’t linger. I gripped the edge of the curtain and plunged into the void.
There was breath upon my face. As my eyes adjusted the best they could to the near darkness, I began to make out the faint outline of a white T-shirt filled by broad shoulders. Slowly, the details of his face emerged. Everett. We stood so close that his breath began flowing into my mouth. As if plugged into the same machine, we began exchanging breaths in a symbiotic rhythm. As he breathed in, I breathed out. As I breathed out, he breathed in. We were two parts of one whole, each sustaining the other.
“Ev. Er. Ett,” I said, each syllable carried by an exhale. “I’m. Look. Ing. For. Ging. Er. Do. You. Know. Where. Ging. Er. Is?”
“Do. You. Know. Where. Ging. Er. Is?” he questioned back.
“Where. Is. Ging. Er?” I pressed, confused.
“Where. Is. Ging. Er?” he asked, repeating the question back to me.
“Cut it out,” I said, pulling my head back, breaking the reciprocal pattern. “Is it true what you said? Did Phillip kill Ginger?”
Refusing to give up our rhythm, he sucked me in again and asked back, “Did. Phil. Ip. Kill. Ging. Er?” With that, he abruptly turned away and disappeared into the darkness. I held my hands in front of me trying to feel for him. As I stepped forward, I nearly slipped—on ice.
“Where are you?” I begged.
Overhead, there was a sudden loud pop that echoed throughout the forest. A spotlight had been switched on. I looked up to see that it was attached to rafters, which were affixed to a black, metal sky high above the trees. The spotlight began scanning the forest until it ultimately settled—on me. Shielding my eyes and squinting, I could see that Everett was only a few steps ahead. Surrounded by the trunks of shiny, metal trees, he stood with his back to me. Yet something about him wasn’t right. Even though I was seeing him from behind, I knew the person before me was no longer Everett. He didn’t have his broad shoulders, his sculpted muscles. He was too slim. His hair too dark.
The spotlight followed me as I took a step toward him. And as I did, he took a step forward as well. I took another step. And again, he did the same. I touched the back of my neck. And so did he. He then took off in a mad dash across the ice, zigzagging between the metal trees. “Wait!” I shouted as I ran after him. I wanted nothing more than to catch him, grab him by the shoulders and spin him around so I could see his face.
In my pursuit, I began hearing clicking sounds in the distance. It was evident he was leading me toward the noises. The more we ran, the more intense they became. It sounded as if we were heading toward a group of exuberant children banging potlids together. As we got closer, another sound emerged above the clamor. What started as incoherent wails began hitting my ears with terrifying clarity.
“Help!” she screamed over the maddening clashes. “Is anybody here!” As if we were the main characters in some demented stage show, a second spotlight switched on from above, illuminating the young woman behind the voice. Wearing only shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes, she was tangled in a web of branches, trapped in the center of a grove of angry metal trees. The branches twisted and stretched to reach her. Their metal joints snapped as they took turns jabbing her, their sharp tips piercing her skin.
She boldly pushed past the maniacal branches, enduring painful gashes as a consequence for such a daring escape. For a moment, she was free. She ran to the edge of the darkness, attempting to force her way through the black curtain. But there was no opening, and the curtain was too thick and heavy to lift. As she frantically searched for a way out, the trees nearest the edge snatched her. Their limbs worked like mechanical arms to drag her, kicking and screaming, back into the fray.
Seeing us approach, she raised her arms. “Over here! Help!” Her chestnut hair had fallen into her eyes but could not mask the terror on her face. Blood gushed from the cuts on her arms and legs. Still, even with the torture she had endured, she had not given up. Her eyes darted back and forth, constantly looking for an opening so she could try again.
Everett’s imposter had gotten to her first. He stood at the edge of the grove, casually watching her assault with his arms folded. I passed him, running as fast as I could over the slick ice. In the land I was in, being brave seemed less of a risk. But for the first time ever, brave is what I felt as I shielded my face and slid into the cluster of trees.
Metal limbs slashed at my arms and swung at my leg
s. I managed to grab hold of a thick limb about to strike Ginger. The mighty thing easily tossed me backward across the ice. But my move had given Ginger a chance to avoid its blow when it swung back for her. I slid out of control—until I was stopped, stabbed in the back by the tip of a low-hanging limb. I lunged forward to dislodge myself. Crawling on my stomach, I desperately worked to maneuver back to Ginger while branches snapped at me overhead. The thinnest limbs beat upon me like metal whips. I rolled side to side, trying to evade them. The ones that missed cracked all around me on the thick ice.
While enduring this gauntlet, I managed to catch a brief glimpse of the man who was content to merely watch us, the man who had dared replace Everett. And to my astonishment, that man—was me. Or another version of me, at least. It was unnerving, seeing myself looking back at me, especially when, as he observed our torment, his expression was too serene.
Somehow, I had made it to Ginger in one piece. Trapped together, I prepared to endure the torturous onslaught along with her. Yet as soon as I stood at her side, the branches took their resting positions. Suddenly, miraculously, all was still. I looked about for my mysterious clone. But he had left along with the violence. Ginger held her arms in front of her defensively, too afraid to relax. When she was finally satisfied the limbs weren’t going to reanimate, she gave me a hug. “Ayden, thank God you’re here. What’s happening? Where are we?”
“In the metal forest,” I replied simply. “Phillip—he sent me. He’s been looking for you.” Hearing his name, she looked as if she was going to cry from happiness, relief. I was happy too. Seeing her again, I realized I had accomplished my mission. I had found Ginger. All we had to do was escape.
But escaping wasn’t going to be easy. Like an alarm suddenly being tripped, an unbearable high-pitched blare came from the metal sky. Glowing orange sparks cascaded from above. The sparks reflected off the shiny metal trees and the glassy ice floor. As they met the cold ice, they quickly extinguished. I was enchanted by the beautiful scene, even though I knew it was becoming increasingly dangerous. The mass on the other side busted through the sky like a drill puncturing sheet metal. As a coiled tip emerged, the metal sky surrounding it broke into chunks, ripping off tree limbs as it fell.
“How do we get out!” screamed Ginger over the terrible whir.
“I came through an opening on the other side of the forest,” I shouted. “But I don’t think I could find it again.”
“If there’s one opening, there could be more. We need to split up and look. You go that way. I’ll go this way,” she instructed. “If you find an opening, wave your arms—and yell!” With that, she ran to the curtain and began running her hands over its dense fabric. As we separated, her spotlight followed her, and mine followed me. I did as she said and made my way along the curtain in the opposite direction.
After edging along a large section of the curtain without any luck, I turned to scan for Ginger. When I spotted her, she was shouting to me with her hands cupped around her mouth. Yet her words were indecipherable over what sounded like a freight train. She pointed to the sky. And that’s when I saw the spiral had dropped into full view. Its base much wider than its tip, it had torn through the metal sky and was shredding the treetops. The massive thing twirled at such a rate, it was difficult to see that it was made of one single strip of giant, coiled metal. As the tornado continued to lower itself, fragments of metal whipped across the forest. “Watch out!” I shouted as a severed limb was propelled in Ginger’s direction. Luckily, she saw it coming and dove out of its way just in time.
The flying debris subsided for a moment as the tornado settled, its tip hovering just above the iced floor. There was at least some sense of safety pinned to the sidelines, hiding in the perimeter. But then, it began moving through the center of the forest, spinning recklessly as it chewed apart the frozen wonderland. The seemingly sturdy trees were easily dismantled. As metal ate metal, deadly chunks were flung at dizzying speeds.
The tornado’s trajectory put it on a path for the cluster of trees that stood between Ginger and me. Knowing we’d be obliterated along with them, we met on the other side of the trees and, together, sprinted across the icescape. Running in this war zone was a true obstacle course. We had to think fast and move fast, all while balancing on ice, in order to avoid the treacherous shrapnel. The smaller, unavoidable pieces stung as they pelted our skin.
When we should’ve been well out of the cyclone’s reach, I glanced over my shoulder. To my horror, I realized the thing had not only altered its path but was directly behind us. Clearly, the whirring beast had a brain. A purpose. It spun deliberately behind us, threatening to slice through our soft bones with ease. I stopped running. There was no use. It having a brain meant there was no escape. It could hunt and kill us at will.
Realizing I had stopped running, Ginger stopped too. Her mouth opened wide in amazement and terror as she met, up close, the tornado that stalked us. The cluster of trees that had been behind us seconds earlier was gone. Gobbled up. Its ferocious appetite did not go unpunished, however, as its coils had become mangled from the metal it had chewed up and spit out. Its rotation was no longer smooth. It spun unevenly, growling angrily before us as it churned through the forest’s cool air.
Ginger, the most self-assured person I had ever known, knelt in defeat, her bare knees pressed to the ice. She clasped her hands before her. Without words, she begged the metal monstrosity for mercy. It, however, did not grant Ginger mercy. Instead, the sinister tornado bore into the ice. Ice shavings sprayed into the air as the forest’s floor began to splinter. Freezing water rushed onto the surface and over Ginger’s legs. We were blasted by a mix of water and shards of ice. As the cracked ice began to cave into the waters below, I stepped off the unstable ground and clung to the closest tree.
The rush of frigid water woke Ginger from her despair. In a panic, she attempted to scramble back to her feet. But the ice she knelt on was no longer stable, and she promptly slipped upon it. She lay still for a moment, stunned, on her back, partially submerged in the unearthly pool. The freezing water crept over her torso and up to her neck. Sparks formed underwater as the twister continued to bare down, hitting metal tree roots. As a fountain of water, bits of ice, and tiny metal shards showered Ginger, she struggled to once again stand. But the chunk of ice beneath her had slipped away.
I reached for her with one arm while clutching the tree with the other. “Ginger!” I screamed to get her attention. She reached up to me. But the swirling vortex sucked her closer toward the metal demon. Screaming deliriously, she was pulled beneath the churning waters. The current lodged her struggling body among a mass of metal roots and vines. Her dedicated spotlight allowed me to see her clearly beneath the surface, where she became entwined in the twisted mesh. Her arms flailed desperately as she attempted to claw her way out of the metal restraints. Her hair stood on end, bobbing in the turbulent waves.
She was still alive when I left her. Still fighting for her life.
36
Effectively Pureed
“Ginger!” I shouted as I sprang upright. I grabbed the truck’s door handle and studied my surroundings. I didn’t know how long I had been asleep in the cab of the old pickup until I realized it was nearly dusk.
“You found her?”
“Yes.”
Phillip slapped his face in a mix of elation and disbelief. “Is she all right!”
“No.”
“Is she dead?” he asked, fearful of my response.
“I don’t know. But I know where she is.”
Phillip bolted out of the truck and ran down the two-track. I followed not far behind, although it took a moment for my blood to begin circulating again. Running with Phillip through the fields and forests was almost as exhilarating as running with Everett. With the warm summer breeze rushing past my face, I felt electric. Full of energy. I barely noticed the limitations of my adult body. I was like a kid again. I felt that if I could’ve just picked up a bit more spe
ed, I could’ve galloped over the highest treetops with ease.
The path eventually led us back to the field where the cabin sat. We were about to emerge from the trees when Phillip threw his arm across my chest. He pointed to the gravel drive leading up to the tiny cabin. There, three police cruisers were parked. I squinted in the growing darkness. The lights were on inside the cabin, and at least two men walked the yard. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Phillip cursed under his breath.
As we watched them invade our hideout, there was no need to discuss the seriousness of the situation. With his live-in girlfriend missing, Phillip disappeared during the height of the investigation. If he hadn’t been the prime suspect already, he surely was that evening after having been found living in secret at his parents’ cabin in the middle of nowhere. To compound his problems, if they were to perform a detailed search of the grounds, eventually they’d discover an old pickup, which would link him to the unsolved disappearance and possible murders of Ian Stein and Todd Snelling. And then there was me. His former friend from high school and college. Had anyone noticed I had gone missing too? And if so, did they believe I was his victim? Or his accomplice?
Phillip motioned for me to follow him. In the cover of darkness, we scuttled along the perimeter of the trees until we rounded the backside of the cabin. He eyed his pickup across the yard. “We’ve got to get to Ginger,” he declared with a heavy dose of desperation. “Dammit! My keys are inside.” The truck was so close but might as well have been a million miles away.
The wind began to pick up, first bending the tops of the trees in the distance and then rustling the branches behind us. With the wind came a low growl. It could’ve perhaps been thunder. Yet a tingle that ran from the base of my spine to the back of my neck told me that something old and familiar had been stirred. I moved closer to Phillip. I tried reading his face to see if he too had sensed this presence lurking in the air, but he was too preoccupied with his predicament.
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