PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  I pull to the curb. My throat is so dry it hurts to swallow, like it's infected. I need water. Even if it doesn't stay down, any water has to help.

  I grab one of the bottles. It still feels cool to the touch, though it's probably room temperature by now. I'm burning like a whore in hell.

  The chilled air outside of the car does little for me except contrast how warm I am on the inside. I'm stiff as though I've had a fever and been at the gym all day.

  My fingers are weak as I twist off the bottle cap and chug the water. My stomach churns. I close my eyes and take slow, deep breaths. It doesn't help.

  The hum could switch things up any time now. Freeze me for a while. Stab at my head. Just knock off this burning.

  But it knows how intensely I don't want to do what I'm being sent to do. This isn't like the first kill, when I felt morally obligated to resist. This isn't like Mark, either, when I was just tired of being the bad guy.

  This is deeper. Profound. I would rather the genie bond kill me than for me to ever harm Syd. The bond is going to keep pushing me to that cliff. I don't know what happens if I fall over the edge.

  When I find Syd, I will tell her to run. She's a smart woman. She'll stay ahead of me. We will do this forever, even if the burning never lets up.

  Someone is speaking to me. I lift my head from the ground. I'm on my knees again, though I don't remember falling.

  I squint to see. A tall, fit Native American man is staring down at me. He's scowling. I think he's worried.

  I'm fuckin' worried.

  “Do you need help?” His voice is stern, genuine.

  I try to shake my head, but the motion just stirs the flames.

  He says more, maybe asking me questions. All I can do is shake my head, then wince and grind my teeth and rock until the searing ebbs. Just a little.

  He reaches down to help me up. I can't stand on my own, so he takes all the weight and holds me upright. He's still talking. I have no idea what he's saying.

  I think if he is in contact with me too long, he will start to burn too. He doesn't know. He doesn't deserve that.

  My thoughts are getting jumbled.

  I shake him off and stagger back to the car. He waves his arms at me, flagging me to stop. I swallow hard despite how my throat is scorched, then pull the car out and blow by him.

  Time has become irrelevant, but I will be in New Mexico sooner rather than later.

  I hope I'm wrong about Syd. That I read too much into her stories. But I know she's in Santa Fe. And I'm positive she knows I'm coming.

  ***

  Flat land stretches before me. I don't even know if it's desert. I can barely see.

  My sweaty fingers fumble for the radio. The speakers blare. I'm sure it's the usual music but I don't recognize any of it. Sounds like static. After a few minutes or a few hours, I turn off the radio.

  Pressure builds in my sinuses. I touch a hand under my eye and wince. I feel like I shouldn't be able to breathe, but I can. It just causes sharp little pains to shoot through my face. So I try not to inhale, and wind up gasping instead.

  The pressure grows, filling my head. Pushes against my skull from the inside. My eyes water, but I can't see much anyway so it doesn't even matter. I keep driving, though I doubt I'm going the speed limit at this point. Or maybe I am. Hard to tell.

  I'm isolated in my little bubble of misery.

  Ever onward.

  Lights blare into my eyes. I'm unable to make out where it's coming from, but I know Arizona and I know that's a semi. So I try to change lanes, the tires thumping over something. I have no idea where I am. Not entirely sure I'm even going the right direction.

  The lights fade. I step on the gas. Terrible idea since I'm driving mostly blind, but I make out the curves enough to stay somewhere on the asphalt.

  A sign looms up ahead. I struggle to read the words, partly because I can't see and partly because I forget how letters work. Then I put it together.

  The sign is New Mexico welcoming me to their state.

  If they only knew.

  I force a quick calculation from my smoldering brain. Three or four hours before I reach Santa Fe. Not a clue what I'm going to do when I get there though.

  I will not kill Syd.

  The burning, the pressure, none of it is even close to the pain of waking up with Syd's blood on my hands.

  Screw the genie bond.

  More jolts race down my limbs until they are weak.

  Screw Karl.

  The jolts converge in my spine with white-hot pain.

  If I could, I would kill the Walkers. Every last one of them.

  The jolt shoots straight up. My head hits the steering wheel. The car swerves. I force myself upright and yank the car back into what I assume is the correct lane.

  I'm still gasping because breathing hurts. My clothes are drenched in sweat and clinging to my skin. My eyes are burning, my vision blurred. My muscles are tightening into painful knots. The pressure in my skull is building even though I can't imagine it getting worse until it does.

  Every disobedient thought—about saving Syd, about murdering Karl and Silvia, about driving off a ravine and ending this—jolts my brain. Yet the zaps just piss me off, make me convinced that I won't bow down this time.

  I can barely keep my head up. My eyelids struggle to stay open.

  I slow the car as I enter Gallup, New Mexico because the last thing I need is to be pulled over. I'll pass the sobriety test, but I might be unfriendly if they try to detain me.

  My logic is slippery.

  I turn into a parking lot and attempt not to clip any of the other vehicles as I slide into a space. Pretty sure this is a hotel. My hand goes to my eyes, but the contact is searing. I'm smoldering to the point I can't even touch my own skin.

  Maybe I'm coming into my super powers. I am the goddamn Human Torch.

  I step out of the car and head for the lobby. If I can get a room, sleep for a few hours, maybe I can take this on again. Maybe I can formulate a plan to help Syd escape me.

  Inside the lobby, I lay my wallet on the counter and fumble for the credit card and driver's license.

  The clerk asks something.

  “One,” I say, assuming he wanted to know how many people were staying or how many beds I needed.

  He studies me, then shrugs and takes the cards. I don't know who I am today.

  After a moment, he hands back my cards along with the door key. And a map. He hands me a freakin' map. Like I can read the damn thing.

  I amble back to the parking lot. In the lamp glow, I squint until I make out the walkways. Then I stagger down the path, though I have no idea where I'm going.

  Each step rattles my brain. I clench my teeth and clomp onward.

  Someone speaks behind me. I halt, because turning too fast is going to cost me a few hit points.

  A man comes around to my front. “Sir, can I help you?”

  I thrust the map at him. I've forgotten how to speak.

  “Would you like me to take you to the hospital?”

  I shake my head. My neck stiffens, my brain tilts.

  He rests his hand on my shoulder and guides me down the walk. I set into a pace of step-cringe-step-grimace. Then he presses me back. We stand in silence.

  I don't know what we're doing.

  The door lock clicks.

  A light flicks on. The glow shines through the blurriness. I trudge toward the illumination into my room. My brain feels hot and stirred. I halt before I wind up on the ground in convulsions.

  Deep breath.

  The man is in the doorway still. Earning his karma points.

  “Can I bring you anything at all?”

  I shake my head again, despite how it shifts around all the terrible things locked in my skull.

  He hesitates, then says, “Just dial zero if you need anything, okay? That'll take you to the front desk.”

  He closes the door as he leaves.

  I fall to my knees again, head to the g
round. My eyes close, but there's no relief. My eyelids burn. My hands go to the back of my neck and start clawing. My fingernails are hot little pokers but I keep digging. Nothing is helping. The fever just grows and grows.

  I've never been bent this far by the genie bond. Something is going to snap.

  And that something is going to be me.

  ***

  I lie on the hotel bed, on top of the covers, but the bedding is too hot. Even with them just underneath me, I am suffocating. So I try the floor, but my head continues feel like it is being pumped full of molten cement.

  I force myself to my knees, but I can't sit straight. My forehead hits the carpet again. My jacket is heavy, but I don't have the dexterity or strength to remove any clothes. Not that it matters. The heat is inside of me.

  If I could just sleep. But I can't. It won't let me. Not until I assure it that I'm going to kill Syd. And mean it.

  I never will.

  A jolt has me twitching again.

  I don't care. Nothing can convince me to harm her. So I'm stuck with this.

  I hold up my hand and tilt my head to peer at it. My skin should be bright red, like I've been submerged in boiling water, but I only see a layer of sweat. No other indication that I'm on fire inside.

  My hand drops next to me. The thump is followed by several thuds as I knock my head into the floor.

  “Please, please, stop,” I say through gritted teeth.

  The first words I've spoken since Holbrook, hours ago. I work my legs from under me and collapse on my side. My eyes are open. I try to zone out. Try to remove myself mentally from what is happening physically.

  Doesn't work. I am not allowed to escape.

  Next thing I know, I'm pacing. Sweating and grinding my teeth. I try to envision how to get me and Syd out of this, but I can't formulate a coherent thought, let alone a plan.

  Warmth touches the top of my lips. I bring my hand to my face.

  My nose is bleeding.

  I can't stay here. The genie bond is destroying me from the inside. I have to find Syd. We have to figure this out.

  I leave my key cards on the dresser and head back into the night. My vision has cleared enough for me to find my car, figure out which direction I need to go, and set out down the road. Within ten minutes, I pass the Gallup city limits, eastbound.

  By the time I reach Albuquerque, the sky is glowing orange against the sloping silhouettes of low mountains. The daylight should be rejuvenating, but it glares into my eyes until I can barely keep them open. I want to hole up somewhere until night, but I can't wait that long to end this.

  The muscles in my legs seize. I cringe and try to stretch them out. The car swerves. I can't get away with driving like a drunk now that I'm among civilization, so I turn into the first parking lot and step out.

  The air is cool, but Hot Lake Springs would feel like the Bering Strait to me now.

  The parking lot belongs to a shopping center. Most of the stores are closed and, besides two vacant cars, I'm alone.

  My skin prickles with another bout of heat. I start walking, head down, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe I can distract myself from the burn spreading through my body. Doubt it. But I'll try.

  I follow the sidewalk. A car passes by. I don't know what I look like at the moment, but if it's even a glimpse of how I feel, people are going to notice me as soon as they have had their first cup of coffee.

  I touch the tip of my tongue onto my lips. My tongue is dry, and my lips are cracked and salty.

  The burning cranks up the dial, even though it seems impossible it could go any higher. I stumble, but press forward. Maybe I will walk to Santa Fe. Buy Syd some time.

  A jolt rocks me on my feet. I grind my teeth harder and force myself onward. My soles barely leave the ground. Each step sends hot pains through my legs. My joints crackle like sticks rubbed together to start a fire.

  Another car zooms by.

  My head snaps up. I turn to see the car round the corner.

  It's a black and red Audi.

  I take off the direction the car disappeared. The fire, the pressure, the torment lets up a little. Just enough for me to gain speed.

  The Audi parks on the curb in front of a small restaurant. I crouch behind a car on the other side of the street to watch.

  Syd steps out of the Audi. Her face is tense. I shift to see around the front of the car, my gaze following her as she shoulders her purse and heads into the restaurant.

  I push myself up and use my hand to hop over the hood. I charge toward the glass door, shove it open, and latch my sight onto the back of Syd's head.

  She turns where she sits. Her mouth opens a little.

  The patrons stare at me as I storm toward her. I have no concrete plan, but the pain has let up.

  The hum knows my intentions.

  So does Syd. She scrambles out of her chair and faces me, but she doesn't say anything. I'm not sure she can. The whole time, I thought she knew. I thought she would anticipate me showing up in New Mexico.

  Judging by her wide expression, this is the last place she expected to find me.

  She takes a step back.

  My head lowers as I snarl at her. I can see it now: my hand clutching her throat, applying pressure, slowly but surely. She will be too stunned, too afraid to resist. I will crush her windpipe with my bare hands. Feel her throat give. Watch her last struggling breaths before she suffocates.

  She will be beautiful dead, and I will be at peace again.

  Syd rushes me, throwing her shoulder into my chest. I hunch over, lungs seizing. The front door slams behind me.

  I take off after her. She has her purse on the hood of the Audi, pawing around. Probably looking for her keys.

  She glances over her shoulder at me. Then she flees across the street into a parking lot between the back of a complex and two small buildings. I'm right behind her.

  Normal people would be screaming for help. Not my Syd. She knows no one can stop me.

  She darts into the street on the other side, cars squealing to a halt, and doesn't slow as she heads for a park. I follow her across the grass, weaving through the trees. My breathing is heavy in my head. I like it.

  She angles across the park, toward the houses opposite of it. We are in broad daylight, yet we're entirely alone.

  The world will be coherent soon. I have to reach her before then. I pick up my pace.

  She cuts across the road and darts into a narrow lot between houses, disappearing into the trees. I charge after her, putting up one arm to shield my face from the backlash of branches. Her footsteps fall just out of time with mine.

  We used to be so in sync.

  The lot opens to asphalt. My boots clomp against the ground. Stealth was never my thing. I think I like them to know I'm coming.

  I certainly do this time. It's tantalizing.

  She uses her arm to propel herself over a white fence. I follow suit, landing in the gravel on the opposite side. She's climbing over the next fence. I'm at her just as she clears it. She drops heavy. I land on my haunches on cement, right behind her.

  Syd is already down the carport. I dive after her. All the agony of the last hours falls off as I run. Just me and the hum again. As long as I catch Syd, it will let me go.

  And I will catch Syd.

  I have to.

  The residential street is empty. Few people collect the morning newspaper anymore. She cuts across another empty street, heading right, then rounds the corner.

  She's slowing. I am not.

  I'm fuckin' golden.

  She turns left and crosses in front of an apartment complex. A few people are standing around in the common area, smoking and talking. They don't even glance up as she races by, and I charge right after.

  Way to be observant, assholes.

  She catches her second wind and skids around the corner. The bottom of my jacket beats against the back of my legs as I pursue her across a three way intersection. Up ahead
, a parking lot with a few vendor stands and a couple of patio tables and a handful of people.

  Syd barrels through, shoving chairs behind her as she goes. I leave overturned tables and broken umbrellas in my wake. I think someone shouts at us.

  I just hear humming. Pleasant, happy humming.

  Syd is struggling to get over another fence. I gain on her. She's shaking, her breathing sharp, but she scrambles over. I follow after and drop right behind. My fist grabs the back of her shirt.

  She throws an elbow and clenches her jaw as she pulls away. I go down, clutching my stomach. Then my head snaps up. She's already across the yard and over the wooden fence. My eyes narrow.

  We can do this as long as she wants.

  I bolt after her. The fence digs up my hands as I scramble over. Down a side yard and into the street. Syd turns the corner into a long alley. Dirt kicks up as I chase after.

  Her silhouette is stunning. She's the pretty girl from a horror movie. No one wants her to die. But she has to. The story can't move forward without it.

  The alley opens onto a boulevard. Syd weaves through the traffic without slowing. I lunge forward. Cars slam on their brakes, swerve, barely recover from a pile up. I reach the median as she reaches the other side.

  A narrow strip connects two parking lots. She heads around the back. Another fence. She halts for a second, hesitating. She doesn't look back at me, but I can see her body tensing as I gain on her. Then she's off, scrambling onto the dumpster and over the fence.

  I take the easy route—up and over—and lean low to charge her. All I have to do is knock her off her feet. As soon as she's down, it's over.

  She takes a sharp turn into another alley.

  She doesn't have anywhere to go, I realize. Her hide out is in Santa Fe. She is just running, trying to stay ahead of me. Yet she's so damn stoic about the whole thing. Her fear obvious in the gasping and trembling, but she's battling it down.

  The school girl has got some grit. But I'm the monster here.

  We pass by trash cans, discarded furniture, piles of rocks. We exit into a road, spring for the next alley. My boots splash through shallow puddles.

  The alley opens into a lot. Syd dives around the parked cars, like she thinks she's going to lose me.