by Sarah Fine
He looked down at Ibram for a moment, then, apparently satisfied with the sheik’s comatose state, walked quickly to the Viking, who had begun to reach for his sword. The Guard knelt next to him and pulled a knife from his ankle sheath.
“Don’t take me to that awful place,” the Viking begged.
“You don’t have to worry. I have no intention of doing that,” the Guard said as he stroked a long hand over the Viking’s head. At first I thought he might be comforting the guy. But when he rose and walked away, I saw he’d cut the man’s throat, ear to ear.
Holy crap.
The Guard approached the trembling housewife. “My name is Lucy Stein,” the woman said in a high-pitched, childlike voice as she tried to scoot away.
The Guard dropped to his knees beside her, a mixture of sadness and determination on his face. “Your name was Lucy Stein.”
He cut her throat before she had a chance to reply.
Oh, shit, Nadia, stay where you are. Don’t move.
The Guard got up slowly and swayed in place. He bowed his head as he bent over, bracing his hands against his thighs. I wondered if he was about to collapse from his injuries. I hoped he would, so Nadia could get the hell out of there. He was breathing hard, but I wasn’t sure it was from the fight. His eyes were on the dead housewife as her blood haloed around her face. The Guard winced and closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent chant. Was he praying? Blood from his shoulder joined the puddle on the concrete, mingling with his victim’s.
Nadia shifted, ready to bolt. My thoughts went into overdrive. Don’t move don’t breathe don’t scream don’t run. Her heartbeat roared in my ears—she was convinced this man would cut her throat, too, if he knew she’d witnessed his crimes. She stumbled back and collided with a bunch of overflowing garbage cans. They hit the ground with a deafening clang. When Nadia raised her head from the pile of trash she’d tumbled into, both of us gasped. The Guard’s leather-armored shins were right in front of her face.
A squeak of terror burst from Nadia as the Guard tugged her to her feet and pushed her against a wall. His right hand wrapped firmly around her neck. I found myself looking straight into his black-brown eyes. I felt the heat of his breath on Nadia’s face, smelled the scent of leather on his skin. He tilted his head and inhaled deeply, his nose grazing Nadia’s cheek, before stepping back and releasing her.
“Deutsch?” he asked. Nadia stared at him helplessly. He sighed. “English?”
Nadia nodded.
“You need to find shelter,” he advised in a tired voice. “The Mazikin are out recruiting tonight, so you shouldn’t be on the street.” There was a noise behind him, and he turned abruptly. Nadia looked in time to see Ibram disappearing around a corner. The Guard cursed loudly. Well, it was in a foreign language, but I could guess at the translation from the sheer aggravation in his voice. He sheathed his knife and took two steps toward the mouth of the alley before turning back to Nadia. He pointed in the direction she had tried to run. “Don’t go that way. It’s not safe.” He pointed across the road to a high-rise. “There are empty apartments in that building. You’ll know which ones are available. The doors are open. You can make your bed in any of them. Do you understand me?”
When Nadia nodded again, he sprinted after Ibram. We sank to the ground, sobbing.
“Lela! Snap out of it!”
I jerked my head up to see the gas lamps sprouting leafy tendrils that unfurled toward the ground. The cobblestones beneath my feet flattened into bricks again. Fingers curled around my shoulders and shook me.
Diane’s face swam in front of mine, her eyes bright with panic. “I’m calling an ambulance!”
I shook my head, half surprised to be in control of my own body again. “Don’t.” My voice was hoarse. I squirmed away from Diane’s grasping hands and struggled to my feet. I had been sitting on the ground, crouched against the side of the house. The overturned grill lay in front of me, dull, papery ashes strewn across the brick patio.
“You were screaming Nadia’s name. You were telling her not to move, not to run. I couldn’t get you to talk to me. You could have burned yourself,” Diane panted, pulling her phone from her pocket and waving it in the air. “I know you’re grieving, baby, but that’s not normal.”
I almost laughed at her understatement. “I just got a little…overwhelmed. It won’t happen again.” My hands trembled as I dusted off my pants, so I grabbed a broom leaning against a bench near the sliding glass door and gripped the handle. “See? I’m fine. I’ll clean this up and come inside.”
Diane eyed me as she fingered the buttons on the phone.
“Diane, if you call now, they’re going to come, see that I’m totally fine, and be kinda irritated with you for the false alarm.”
She put her hands on her hips, and I almost took a step back. Diane worked down at the medium-security lockup, and she had a better game face than any thug I’d ever met. “We’re going to the doctor tomorrow, and that’s the end of this,” she snapped.
“Fine,” I muttered as I swept. “Whatever.”
As soon as she disappeared into the house, I let myself collapse back onto the ground. I stared at the little pile of ashes in the dustpan, at the gray smears across the patio. Two possibilities. One: I was going utterly insane. My best friend’s death had driven me over the edge, and if this continued, I’d be headed for the psych ward sometime very soon. Two: I was actually connecting with Nadia, and I knew where she was. But it was so much worse than the place that had haunted me over the last two years. It was dangerous. People bled there. They died there, even though they were already dead. For all I knew, one of those sword-wielding freaks might be attacking her right now.
I finished sweeping up as quickly as I could and waved cheerfully as Diane gave me a concerned look. I headed back to my room, the smile sliding off my face as soon as I turned away. I lay on my bed and held my hands up in front of me, trying to recall the exact sensation of being in Nadia’s head. Of being Nadia. Nothing. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Maybe I could dream about her. Maybe I could see if she’d gotten into one of those apartments. Maybe she would hear me this time. Maybe I could talk to her. Maybe I could be with her again.
Of course, the only time I’d ever wished for one of those nightmares, I couldn’t even get myself to sleep. My tattoo itched and ached, sending spikes of pain up and down my arm, but it didn’t draw me into her head again. I stared at it, the dark ink on my reddened, raw skin. It had been meant as a good-bye—but what if it had drilled her deeper into my heart? Before, I’d wanted the dreams to stop. Now, I wanted more. That vision had felt so real. Not like a shadow over the real world; it had been the real world. Like what I’d seen was really happening. And if it was, Nadia was in deep trouble. I lay there for hours, trying to coax a vision into my brain. My heart ticked in time with the blinking light on my alarm clock, each second winding me tighter. What if she didn’t make it into one of those apartments?
What if you really do belong in the psych ward?
I threw the covers back, unwilling to think about that possibility, too focused on Nadia to worry about it anyway.
If I couldn’t get a vision of Nadia to come to me, maybe I could go find one.
FIVE
IT WAS AROUND FIVE in the morning when I finally gave in, pulled on some flip-flops, grabbed my keys and a jacket, and tiptoed out of the house. Once on the highway, I steered the car toward Newport. I spent my last two bucks on the tolls and drove over the bridges, straight to the southern tip of Aquidneck Island. There, the narrow Cliff Walk began its winding, three-mile path between mansions and ocean.
Nadia once said that when she was on that rocky trail—luxury on one side, crashing waves on the other—the two halves of her came together. She’d brought me here a bunch of times. This was where I’d taken that picture of the shoreline she liked so much. Maybe this was the place I would find her again.
I parked at the side of the road, right by the entrance to th
e Cliff Walk. The wind gusted around me, tangling my hair around my neck and face. The chill of it sliced right through my thin jacket as I stepped onto the stony trail, making the tattoo on my arm flash with bright, sharp pain.
As soon as it did, a hallway appeared in front of me. My mouth filled with a sour tang. I looked down at my hand. On my palm…Nadia’s palm…sat a few pills. I was in her head again. She wanted to numb herself up, too tired and terrified to care about anything but nothing. Deep inside her chest, I felt it: a gnawing, festering emptiness, a yawning chasm. She was going to try to fill it with those pills. Don’t, I whispered, but just like always, she didn’t hear me. She put one foot in front of the other, making her way down the dimly lit corridor to an open doorway at the end of the hall. With a flash of relief, I realized she had taken the Guard’s advice. She was headed for an apartment.
As her head buzzed with need, my own vision sharpened. Wherever her gaze landed, I soaked it in. Lanterns hung from sconces along the hallway, casting sickly greenish light across the closed doors, which were covered in peeling, dark pink paint. The pale orange walls were streaked black, and the floor was kind of furry. What the…? It was mold, growing like moss, all over the carpet. She left footprints in the damp, squishy clumps as she plodded toward her destination. Her fingers closed over the pills. Her mouth watered.
Something shifted behind her. She didn’t notice. All she could think about was getting into that apartment and lying on the floor, letting the pills shut her down for a while. She didn’t hear the faint brush of steps along the moldy carpet, the quiet hiss of breath coming closer with each second. Look behind you, Nadia.
She didn’t. She just shuffled toward that open door, oblivious to the soft, hooting laughter now coming from whoever or whatever was in that hallway with her. Run, I shouted. Please, run, I whispered.
She didn’t hear me.
Her heartbeat was slow and steady in my chest, but my thoughts were my own, and they were on fire. I had no trouble hearing the reedy voice cackle, “She’s perfect.” My muscles ached with tension, trying to make her sprint, but it was like running in water. She had all the control and we moved at her speed. Faster. You’re almost there. Lock yourself in that apartment.
The footsteps quickened. They were just behind her now. I felt a warm breath against my neck and smelled something rotten, but she did not turn, did not feel, did not smell it. She leaned on the doorjamb and stumbled into the apartment, forgetting to close the door behind her.…
My entire body shuddered as I was hit with a gust of chilly wind. I opened my eyes. I was now standing at the summit of a hill high above the ocean surrounded by low, bristling scrub. A thin band of orange rimmed the water as the sun emerged from the sea. The waves slapped in echoing rhythm against the rocks below. I had no time to think about how the hell I’d gotten there. All I could think was Did she make it? Did they get her?
In my helpless frustration, I shouted at the sky. “This isn’t fair! First I’m punished with these visions, and now I can’t have one when I need it most? What kind of bullshit divine justice is this? I need to know if she’s okay!” I took another step forward, trying to get closer to whoever might be listening up there. “I have to know if she made it. Please—Oh, shit!”
A sharp gust of wind hit me, and I slipped and tumbled over the scrub. My arms pinwheeled as I tried to grab at the scraggly, brittle shrubs, but they snapped off in my hands. My hips and legs bounced off the side of the boulder as I fell, but then I was plummeting through open air, plunging toward the jagged rocks and ocean below. My scream unfurled from my throat, high and clear. Oh God oh no oh no no no no—
As soon as I became aware of myself, I knew I was dead. I recognized the soaring feeling of freedom from the night I’d tried to kill myself, and I waited for the crash.
It didn’t come. Instead a bubble of contentment inflated inside my chest, bright and shining, somehow reassuring me that the fight was over, that everything would be all right. A fleeting worry crossed my mind: please don’t let Diane think I jumped…. But I couldn’t hold onto it, because the feeling of safety and happiness crowded it out, leaving no room for longing or fear or regret.
I lay on my back and stared at the piercing blue, cloudless sky. I was lying in a field, and the grass cradled me, silken and fragrant, soft as any bed. I sat up slowly, trying to recall exactly what had happened. I only remembered falling, then nothing else. I had a faint memory of being upset but couldn’t remember why. Nothing seemed worth worrying about at the moment.
I got to my feet, smiling.
And realized I wasn’t alone.
People appeared around me every few seconds, materializing out of nowhere, lying in the grass and then rising, grins lighting their faces. Each of them looked around, some slightly puzzled, none afraid. They turned their faces to the sun and walked away across the flowered meadow, backs straight, strides relaxed and smooth. Old, young, of every color. All happy. I understood their expressions. I felt the same way. I’d never really had a home, but this sure felt like one. I raised my arms to the sky in silent gratitude, soaking in the warmth of the sun above.
Then I saw her face on my arm.
She’d come with me, haunting and hunted. The sorrow in her eyes hit me like a solid punch to the gut, deflating my bubble of contentment instantly. My arms fell to my sides, and that’s when I heard it: the unmistakable shriek from my nightmares. The Suicide Gates swinging open. I spun around, trying to locate the source of the sound, amazed I hadn’t noticed it before.
There, in the distance, a city sprawled, ringed by a high wall. A dome of darkness arced over it, veiling the skyline in constant midnight. As soon as I saw the Gates, as soon as I heard them, I recognized the place. And I knew Nadia was in there. All I’d dreamed, all I’d seen was real.
The people around me didn’t seem to hear the metallic screams of those Gates. None of them turned their heads. None of them were aware of the city that loomed on the hill behind them. But once I saw it, I couldn’t look away.
I hiked through the grass toward the dome, flowers tickling my ankles, my joy just another distant memory. When I reached the boundary between light and darkness, indecision kicked my feet out from under me, and I sank to the ground.
What if…
What if she’d made it safely into that apartment? What if I could find her? What if I could get her out? What if I could bring her into the sunlight? What if I could do in death what I hadn’t done in life?
What if I could save her?
But saving her would mean I’d have to go in there. The place I’d been trying to escape for years. Did I really want to put myself through that? What if I couldn’t help her at all?
I have no idea how long I sat there staring into the darkness, listening to the Gates swinging open and slamming shut. I have no idea how long it took me to decide. It was harder than I would have expected. All the times I’d dreamed of the city, I’d never had any idea of what lay outside its walls. It was heaven out here in the Countryside, and I didn’t want to leave. Everything I’d ever needed was here. I was sure of it.
But how could I walk away from Nadia? How could I enjoy my afterlife if I never found out what happened to her? After everything she’d done for me—all those nights of studying with me, sticking up for me to her friends, even writing a letter to my probation officer…after she’d showed me I was worth something, after she’d told me she had faith in me…how could I turn my back on her when I knew what she was going through? Would I fail her again?
No. I couldn’t. I had to go after her. I could only hope I wasn’t too late.
My plan: Get into the city. Get Nadia. Keep us safe. Find a way out. Simple.
I got up, took a breath, and stepped through the veil of darkness before I could change my mind. It rested heavy against my skin, clammy and chilling, weighing me down. I fell forward, hit by a barrage of despair. I lay, forehead against the ground, palms against the stones, any remaining hope and happ
iness leaching away.
I was back.
The road leading to the city was paved with rough slabs of stone and teemed with hunched, moaning people. A wet, scrunching noise made me jump. A young man with dark skin and hair appeared in a heap just to my left. Slack jawed and blinking, he raised his head to the Gates and let out a cry in a foreign language, then staggered to his feet and joined the crowd.
Dazed, limp souls materialized in pathetic piles behind me and on both sides, a grisly parody of what was happening just on the other side of the veil. These poor folks rose automatically and stumbled toward the mouth of the city. The Suicide Gates sucked them all in. No one tried to escape or resist. They looked neither left nor right. Like most of the people in my nightmares, including Nadia, they seemed concerned only with themselves and whatever they were going through. I waited for that feeling, that urge to walk toward the Gates. But it wasn’t there. I could go in, but I didn’t have to. I still had a choice.
Behind the Gates, the city clung to the slopes of its hill, a cement fungus. The tallest buildings clustered at its massive center, rising so high I couldn’t tell where they ended and the sky began. The only disruption to the pattern of the city, in which low buildings lay at the outskirts and grew in circular patterns toward the center, was on its farthest wall, where an enormous, shining white building rose. In a place that ate light, absorbed it like a sponge, this building glowed. I suddenly felt total sympathy for those insects that get drawn into bug zappers. I didn’t know what that building was, but it called to me.