Winterland

by Mike Duran

  “I’d rather not. And that part about going back whenever I want?”

  “You still can,” Joseph said. “But if you do, they win.”

  “Go back?” Sybil straightened. “Why would you want to do that? Just look.” She lifted her hands and twirled through the grass. “It’s like paradise here.”

  Eunice stared at the little girl. Even though it was an illusion, Eunice could not deny the beauty of this place. Especially after trudging through Mlaise and the Plains of Cinder. However, if they really wanted her to leave, as Joseph suggested, why did Sybil object? Why would the little girl—or the generational spirit—want Eunice to stay? Perhaps she was playing a trick on Eunice, reverse psychology. Then again, maybe Joseph was conspiring with the three of them.

  Exhaustion and its accompanying thirst bore down on her again. She drew a deep breath and slumped onto the grass with a great sigh. Eunice sat there massaging her temples.

  Sybil stopped picking the flowers and looked out the corner of her eye at Eunice.

  Your spiritual gene pool. If there was such a thing, Eunice’s was probably more like a toxic waste dump. She shook her head. Was it possible to even fight such a thing? Battling ones’ biology was like shadow boxing—there was never a winner.

  But the idea of surrender wasn’t in her nature either. Thank God.

  Suddenly something flashed. The entire sky erupted, as if some great device had been detonated on the horizon. And behind it rolled a massive quake. The earth rippled, heaved and buckled. Mordant shrieked, claiming this was the end, while Reverend Ash teetered wildly on his stilts, professing his virtue. Planks of wood sheared away from the dirigible overhead and clattered to the ground. A cataract began churning in the pond as several boulders split in two.

  Sybil ran to Eunice. “Make it stop! Please!”

  “Me?” Eunice cried, bracing herself against the concussions. “What did I do?”

  Sybil dropped her bouquet and knelt down, fixated upon Eunice. “Don’t you know why I’m here?”

  Another blast rocked the earth.

  “I—” Eunice glanced frantically at Joseph. “I’m not sure.”

  “My daddy left me here,” Sybil said. “And my mother went to a bad place and couldn’t take me with her.”

  Eunice peered at the girl. “They left you?”

  “I know!”

  “Out here?” Eunice glanced into the ashen sky.

  Sybil nodded.

  The tremors finally stopped. Dust clouds hung thick in the air. Eunice gazed upon the fair-skinned child. Smooth cheekbones and delicate lips. Eyes, dark and fathomless, like gemstone against ivory. This little girl looked so familiar.

  “Who are you?” Eunice asked

  Sybil tilted her head, a coy smile curling the edges of her lips. “You don’t know?”

  Eunice shook her head, a sense of dread rising inside her.

  “She left us here,” Sybil said.

  “She?”

  “Our mother.” Sybil stood, brushing the grass off her knees.

  “What?”

  “Our mother.” Sybil smiled coyly. “I’m you, Eunice.”

  The words entered Eunice’s mind like an adamantine spike. She was going insane; there was no other explanation. She sat gaping.

  Finally, she scrambled to her feet and glanced wordlessly at Joseph. He was watching with the utmost curiosity.

  “I’m you, Eunice.” Sybil giggled, spinning playfully in the grass. “It’s how she wanted us to be. Innocent. Free. And the best playground ever! She never wanted to drag us through all that.” Sybil spread her arms, motioning to the awful skyline outside the hull of the massive blimp. “That’s why I’m here. She made a place just for me. It saved her, you know. It saved us. It was her gift, Eunice.” Then Sybil lowered her head and her tone grew cold. “If you destroy me, you destroy her. Don’t you know?”

  Eunice peered at the girl.

  Behind Eunice, Mordant prattled on about ozone holes and skin cancer. Reverend Ash had retreated to the hedges, where he stood inspecting his clothing, his face pinched in disgust.

  But something inside her hedged at Sybil’s words.

  Eunice would give anything for childlike innocence. She’d been forced to grow up way too fast, and then spent the rest of her life trying to recapture that lost childhood. Didn’t everyone do that? Yet despite the glorious Eden that now spread before her, Sybil’s words seemed hollow. Perhaps Joseph’s warning had predisposed her toward suspicion. Perhaps Winterland had simply left its bitter mark on her, turned her cynical. Either way, not moving forward seemed like a greater crime than forcing this child-creature to take a hike.

  Eunice swallowed hard and looked at the little girl. “You m-might have been me. A long time ago. You might even be what my mother wanted me to be, how she wanted to remember me. But you’re n-not me, Sybil. Not the way I really am. Not now.”

  Sybil gaped and her countenance darkened.

  An unexpected tone of empathy laced Eunice’s words. “Mother’d like to remember me this way, I have no doubts. She never liked what I’d become. Which is why I’m so surprised she even invited me here. But if I’m not mistaken, that’s what she wants to kill—this image of me, this part of her that’s holding onto the past.”

  The sky seemed to deepen several shades. The clouds roiled overhead, as if some great dragon had been awakened, bringing with it a chill wet wind.

  Eunice brushed the hair out of her face. “I came here to free my mother, Sybil. That’s why I’ve put up with Mordant and Ash, and walked through that stupid swamp. That’s what I conceded to do. And that’s what I’m gonna do. I’ve spent enough of my life giving in to… to things I shouldn’t. Things that felt good or seemed right. Running from crap instead of confronting it. But it never helped. I can’t keep making that mistake.” Eunice cast a sad smile at Sybil.

  But the girl did not reciprocate the gesture. In fact, Sybil’s features tightened, her eyes grew overshadowed and smoky.

  Eunice stepped back so she could see her entire party. “The three of you—you’re coming with us. I-I don’t know what you did to my mother. Who you really are or what all this means. But she’s at the end—I know that. And I’m… tired.”

  She looked to Joseph for confirmation. As she did, a brittle crackling filled the air. At first, Eunice could not tell what was happening. The atmosphere, the landscape—everything seemed to be dying. The bouquet of flowers withered. The bright grass, the lily pads, the willows, the leaves—curled and shriveled before her eyes. Like a time-lapse photograph unreeling around them, she watched as the mirage that was the Garden of Eden, turned dead and gray. The pond began draining into sluice, leaving the goldfish flopping helplessly. Soon, everything was dry and blighted.

  “Inevitable.” Mordant whimpered. “It was inevitable.”

  Reverend Ash straightened, looking smug. “Perhaps if you had done your job, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “Brr—rph!” Mordant snuffled. “Can’t stop the rot. Tangles and prickles and beasties with sickles.”

  “There’s laws for these things,” Ash twilled. “But how would you know, you bleating bog of despair. If only you’d—”

  “Shut up!” Sybil’s eyes were like storm clouds, the veins in her temple throbbed. “This isn’t over. There’s someone else.”

  “Who?” Eunice looked at the girl. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Eunice!” Joseph called.

  She tore her gaze away from the now mischievous looking child, to Joseph. He pointed to the sky. The harpies were circling overhead like dark vultures.

  “We have to hurry.” Joseph turned toward the bramble maze. “C’mon!”

  How would they ever make it back through the bushy labyrinth? All those twists and turns. It would take hours to find their way out. She turned to Sybil, who smiled wickedly.

  “Mother told me to stay, Eunice.” Sybil giggled. “And we shouldn’t disobey mother, should we?”

  Eunice glanced
at Joseph who stood waiting at the entry to the brambles. Then she gazed up into the sky at the flying sentries. Apparently, whoever was waiting for her, knew she was close.

  Eunice had never been the greatest with kids, which made it easier to grab Sybil by the hand and yank her forward. “If you are me,” Eunice said through gritted teeth, “it’s time to grow up. If you’re not me, then you have no business being in my mother’s brain.”

  And with that she pulled the little girl toward the bramble maze, and its dark glistening thorns.

  FOURTEEN

  Above them, the sky had turned cyclonic, whipping the brambles across their path like monstrous claws. Joseph led the way, but his steps grew more and more tempered. Great! She’d come all this way only to be trapped inside a prickly puzzle.

  Sybil shuffled ahead of her, stubborn and withdrawn, not at all cooperative. Was Eunice this bratty as a child? If so, a good spanking seemed appropriate. Sybil’s resistance forced Eunice to nudge the girl forward every few steps, turning their trek into a tug of war.

  “Ooch!” Mordant yelped. “Ouchy!”

  Reverend Ash, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the lashing. He spread out his arms allowing the thorny branches to strike him. “Such is the lot of all Good,” he pronounced with sanctimony, wincing as he went.

  The hedges seemed to grow higher and higher, tearing at her skin, leaving her clothing shredded and bloody. The harpies were gone and the hellish choir had resumed, serenading the sunset. Wispy flame-red tentacles faded against the cold black sky. It was almost night!

  Suddenly, Joseph came to a stop at an intersection. His gaze wandered, forlorn, from one path to the next.

  “Joseph!” Eunice shoved Sybil forward. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head, looking lost.

  “She said there’s someone else.” Eunice stood beside him, panting. “I thought you said Sybil was the last one.”

  Joseph studied the thick bushes. “This is… new. It just happened. I can’t see any further. Eunice.” He turned toward her. “You’re the only one who can do this.”

  “Huh?”

  “Lost!” Mordant wailed. “Couldn’t end well. Mmph! Never does. Never does.”

  Sybil laughed, a guttural, very un-childlike sound. “I told you we were supposed to stay. It’s what she wants.”

  Eunice peered at the girl.

  “It’s punishment,” Sybil said, raising her hands to the sky. “Can’t you see? He tricked you.” Sybil pointed an accusatory finger at Joseph. “The bent man is crooked inside. You’ve angered her, Eunice.” Her eyes narrowed. “And she’s strong now.”

  Eunice drew back.

  “If you don’t believe me,” Sybil pleaded, “then stop. Stop your stupid adventure. You’ll see.”

  A burst of wind sent dry leaves whirling around them.

  Sybil’s fair skin grew pallid and her eyes were becoming sunken pockets of night. Her dress was ragged at the edges and wafted about her like a spectral fog.

  “Please,” Sybil said, reaching toward Eunice. “You can stop it.”

  Eunice brushed past the girl and stood in the intersection. Darkness swallowed the way before them. She gazed helplessly down the shadowed pathways. The scratching of the thickets and thorns made the bushes seem alive, heightening her distress.

  Eunice did a 360 in the intersection, looking from one aisle to the next. But she was unable to discern which way they should go. Mordant whimpered, Ash crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her, while Sybil’s mischievous smile returned.

  Maybe Mordant was right; they were just playthings on a sinking ship, pawns to be sacrificed at the whim of some malicious deity. It’s why her mother had cancer and Eunice got in a car accident on the way to the hospital. It was just one grand game of Hangman, with the human race always on the noose’s end.

  What an idiot! Now she was sounding like Mister Mordant.

  Eunice looked up, past the hedges, into the sky.

  And that’s when she heard a faint trickle. Distinct from the dry rustle of the bushes. A thick watery sound ambling through the undergrowth.

  “This isn’t the way,” Eunice said, now peering into the hedges. “The path is a trick. It’s the stream—that’s what we should follow.”

  She took a few steps, cocking her head toward the bramble. Then she poked her head through a nearby thicket of branches and remained there until her eyes adjusted.

  Deep at the roots of the jungle, the black stream shimmered.

  “I found it!” Eunice blurted. “C’mon!”

  She parted the bushes for them.

  “In there?” Mordant squalled. “Aw-w-w. Ain’t made for bushies.”

  “Of course!” Joseph declared. “The stream.” Then he ducked under her arms and hiked into the net of scrub.

  Reverend Ash looked sideways at her. “I suppose you consider this groveling?”

  “What goes up,” Eunice said, “must come down.”

  “Pah!” Ash snapped. Then he stooped at the waist and awkwardly made his way into the bushes. Mordant followed, leaving Sybil staring up at Eunice.

  “It doesn’t change anything, Eunice.”

  “I’m not listening to you.”

  “There’s a monster you’re missing.” A wicked smile crept across Sybil’s face. “It’s always like that with you.”

  Eunice stared.

  “You know what I mean,” Sybil said. “You underestimate things. You always have. Just because you can forget about something and get on with your life, doesn’t mean it’s done with. It’s a fatal flaw, you know. They say everyone has one. Well, you have a blind spot for monsters.”

  The words stirred an ominous expectancy inside Eunice. Yes, she’d missed a lot of monsters. Drawing truces when she should have been kicking ass. Fleeing when she should have stood fighting. There was no shortage of second-guessing on her part. Still, she’d made her mind up.

  In the end, the fatigue may have played part. Whatever the case, Eunice managed to gulp down her trepidation. “It’s no worse than the other monsters I’ve already dealt with. And if they are worse, I’ll deal with them too.”

  Sybil scowled. Then she girded up her dress and barreled into the bush.

  Joseph led the way deep inside the bushy maze, snapping off branches as they went. They ducked and squeezed through the thorny bramble, following the black stream on its winding course. Occasionally, one of them would cry out after being pricked or scratched. Above them, outside the canopy of hedges, the storm increased. Thunder clapped, temporarily overriding Dante’s hellish choir, and the forest of brambles swayed. But the stream trudged onward.

  Finally, they burst out the other side of the hedges and fell to the ground, choking and rubbing at their cuts.

  “No more!” Mordant pleaded. “Blisters ‘n rickets. Brr—rrph!”

  Eunice lay panting, staring up at the viscous sky.

  The earth was hard here. And there were sounds—something other than the wind and the cacophony of voices. It was a great hollow gasp, an inhalation, as if the entire world were drawing its final breath. She hoisted her body upward and turned toward the sound.

  And what she saw made her gasp.

  They had reached the end of the road.

  The infernal hole in the sky had become a vortex of crackling ash. It was right on top of them, consuming her entire field of vision. Up ahead, the highway narrowed before plummeting into a great chasm. Oily vines scrabbled along the perimeter of the road, choking the guardrails and collapsed billboards like immense tumors along a metallic skeleton. The black stream cut a line down the asphalt toward this vast canyon, where it became a thin gray waterfall. A suspension bridge draped across this chasm and a dark monstrous figure squat there, guarding the bridge.

  And Eunice knew it was waiting for her.

  FIFTEEN

  The creature was black and angular, the size of a house, and when it saw them, it drew a great breath and roared. What emerged was a tumult of fierce,
shrill cries, as if ages of woe were locked inside this being. Mordant fell to his knees at the sound, bawling, while Eunice clapped her hands over her ears and staggered backwards.

  But she could not stifle its sound. Nor the pain it inflicted.

  What a fool to think she could traverse someone’s soul. Especially someone as screwed up as her mother. This was forbidden territory. She should have known that. You can’t just waltz into someone’s psyche and expect Tiger Lilies and talking chess pieces. Besides, her mother probably deserved this anyway—this hell. And Eunice deserved to live with the emptiness, the shadow of what could have been.

  “Stop it!”

  Joseph was shouting to her. But why bother? This was all her doing, the harvest of her own decay.

  “It’s not you. Eunice!”

  She removed her hands and turned to him, squinting against the gale.

  “You can do it, Eunice,” he implored. “You can finish this!”

  She looked at the raging black beast and shook her head “Maybe we deserve it.”

  “Maybe. But it’s not over yet!”

  She nodded dumbly.

  “You’ve done it before!” Joseph cried.

  “Did I?”

  “Yes!”

  The monstrosity howled again and all of Winterland seemed to resonate with its pain. The creature’s agony was embedded in the very fabric of this world. And its pain found symmetry inside her. For Eunice knew this would have never happened, this foul inner world would have had no chance, if she would have just been more gracious, more forgiving. As it was, she’d allowed a monster to be borne inside her mother. A demon of hell that would never relent. She’d left her mother when it mattered most. Mordant and Ash were as much Eunice’s offspring as her mother’s.

  “Stop it!”

  The voice was at odds with the hellish choir.

  “I said, stop it!”

  Suddenly, she realized she was doubled over with her hands gripping her head. She straightened and looked at Joseph. Then she turned to the monster hunkered at the bridge. Exhaustion cumbered every iota of her being. She so wanted to be done with this, to silence the hellbeast. To bring peace to this savage world.