Buried in Sunshine

by Matthew Fish

  “I don’t see why I would mind.”

  “Good,” Justine says as she begins to shut the door. “I like it.”

  Emma shakes her head. Although Justine is a rather unusual character, she is very appreciative of her company. After all Justine has been through, Emma is surprised with how well and calmly she handles all these odd situations that are suddenly thrown into her life. She just hopes that her presence in Justine’s life does not ultimately cause her pain.

  Emma gets up from the chair and heads to her makeshift bed in the studio room. She plops down on the air mattress and begins to stare up at the ceiling. The ceiling has that strange oatmeal texture that Emma has never quite understood the purpose for its existence. It only takes her a few minutes until she spots a few locations look vaguely like a sailing boat, rabbit eating a carrot (or penis), and a woman eating her own arms. The last of which kind of terrifies her a bit, so she avoids that spot. Her thoughts drift to Ethan as her eyes grow heavy. Was she wrong to turn him away? In her heart, things just didn’t feel right. She hoped that if everything turned out okay that it would pass. At least he was still a friend, at least—she hoped he still was.

  Day 5

  Chapter 6: Pain

  Emma finds herself in front of the broken opening to the dark hallway. Although she knows that something terrible is going to happen—she is thankful that she is not seeing Alexis’s actions while she was out. Emma beings to walk down the hallway, just as she has done so many times before, she knows the routine. It is already hot, her bare feet burn in agony against the searing concrete. She quickens her pace to keep her feet off the floor as much as possible. The familiar grumble of rusty gears and tearing comes from behind her—making sure that she will not turn back from her course. As if she needed more motivation, the hands appear and attempt to grab a hold of her. Then the screaming comes, the maddening, ugly screaming.

  As Emma reaches the stairs up to the greenhouse the rumbling noise subsides. “Alright, you’ve led me here…” Emma says as she begins to ascend the staircase. “You’re always in charge.”

  As she reaches the top her eye adjust to the bright light above her. The greenhouse is in perfect condition—just like it was when she and Hope saw it. The only difference is that the bed has been pulled and turned on its side. In is spot, a giant hole in the concrete has been jack-hammered away revealing the soft earth beneath it. A shovel sits in a shallow grave.

  Emma quickly hides as she hears a noise from the bottom of the stairs. She spots the head of both her mother and Brian Metcalfe, as they ascend the stairs backwards Emma sees that they are dragging a body.

  “You knew…” Emma whispers, this sight confirms her suspicions.

  A silver knife protrudes from the body of her stepfather.

  “The concrete is ready,” Brian Metcalfe says as they lower his body into the shallow grave. “I just have to wheelbarrow it in.”

  “This is never going to work—“Sarah Langford says as she shakes her head and begins to cry. “They’re going to figure out what happened.”

  “Stay calm,” Brian says as he places his hands around hers. “We will wait a few days and send his boat out early in the morning—you’ll report him missing that evening when he does not return. A lot of people disappear on the lake.”

  “The knife…” Sarah says as she points to the elaborate silver knife that shines brightly in the sunlight. “We can’t just leave it.”

  “We should bury him with it,” Brian says as he begins to head out.

  “Take it out,” Sarah objects.

  “We really should leave it…”

  “Please, just take it out and put it back where it was—just wipe it down.” Sarah says as she is on the verge of tears once more. “I just can’t live with the idea of it inside of him…it’s too cruel.”

  “Alright,” Brian says as he reluctantly reaches down and grabs a hold of the blade. He looks away and pulls the knife from the man’s stomach. He holds it away from him and begins to cough and gag at the sight of the blood.

  Emma creeps out from her spot. “Mom…”

  When no reply is returned, Emma realizes that just like before—she cannot be seen or heard. “Was it you?”

  Brian returns with a wheelbarrow and begins to shovel it into the grave on the greenhouse floor. The man’s face looks up to the sun blankly. His mouth is agape, and his eyes unblinkingly look directly into the sunlight. “I’m sorry…” Brian whispers.

  Emma watches as a shovel full of concrete covers the man’s face.

  Emma can watch no further. She knows that she is meant to. However, she is tired of playing by these rules. She begins to walk down the stairs as the low strange grumble begins to echo through the hallway. Her feet burn, she pushes her way through burnt hands as she attempts to make her way back to the entrance.

  “Who did it!?” Emma shouts as she ignores the burning of her skin and continues to endure like a salmon swimming upstream. “Was it my mother? What do you want from me?”

  The melanic arms continue to reach out from the soot black walls. Emma begins to push back, kicking her way past limb after limb as screams echo in response to her every action. Her feet are aching, her movement is slow—but she continues onward. “You want me—you’re coming for me. At least show yourself. Take me! Why wait?”

  “I’m fucking tired of this!” Emma shouts down the hallway. “Stop…!”

  In response to her command the arms retreat. The floor beneath her feet stops burning and like water, it recedes into cracks along the surface of the old hallway floor. The grinding noise quiets until silence is all that remains. A brilliant light can be seen at the end of the hallway. Emma continues onward. Her resolve is as strong as steel.

  As Emma reaches the blinding ball of shimmering light, she reaches her hands into the ethereal glimmer. The light is not hot, nor cold—she pauses as she watches in fascination as the light glimmers across her hand and travels up her arm, disappearing beneath her skin. Her long wheat blonde hair begins to stand up as strands reach to the air; a metallic hum reverberates through the air as takes a deep breath of air in and steps into the light. As she enters the sanctum of light, she comes face to face with a strange figure. Like a statue, a version of Emma stands in place. She wears a golden mask that covers the top half of her face; the mask is covered in amber colored stones and spikes stray from the semi-circular form. Lines of glowing silver paint spread out like flames against the black eyeliner of the mask’s eye holes. The girl has a strange grin on her face. Apart from the strange mask, she is complete nude.

  “Speak.” Emma commands the same way that one would to an obedient dog.

  The girl remains motionless, her eyes looking ever forward and her expression unchanging.

  “Move…Return…” Emma says in an attempt to get the strange version of her to re-animate. “Do…something.”

  Emma grows frustrated that she has no power to make this apparition come alive. She reaches for the mask and slowly begins to pull it away from the girl’s face. Another mask, one made of silver with elaborate roses and black line work is revealed. Emma tosses the sun mask to the ground and places her hands on the silver mask—she pulls away, revealing a smaller black mask with tears of blood that have been painted beneath the eyes.

  “Who are you?” Emma asks as she allows the silver mask to fall to the floor.

  Emma reaches out to place her hands upon the black mask but recoils as her fingertips come in contact with it—her hands begin to burn out in pain. Her skin turns from tan to a terrible sickly red. Emma looks to her hands in horror as they begin to blacken. She lets out a scream of pain as the blackness travels up her arms. Emma falls to the floor as the burning sensation reaches her body. Like a poison it courses throughout her body, destroying her flesh and turning into ash. Her mind is set ablaze as she loses her form completely. The girl watches blankly, the same strange grin rests upon her face as Emma loses consciousness.

  Emma awakens to the
sound of laughter. She stares up for a moment at the oatmeal ceiling. For a moment her mind forms the image of a mask in a cluster against the far corner of the wall. What does it mean? Who was that other version of her—the one that was chasing her in her nightmares? Perhaps it was an even stronger version—stronger than all the ones she knows, including herself, combined. Could this girl have been the one that everyone refers to as the sun? It would make more sense, as the sun does not seem to be growing any closer—the news reported that there was a severe heat-wave and drought, not that the sun was on a collision course with the Earth, or course that bit of news would probably cause widespread panic.

  Emma gets out of bed as her bones creak, she still feels tired—she feels old beyond her age. Emma climbs into the white dress with the yellow hibiscus flowers upon them and looks into the small mirror next to the dresser in the studio. She attempts to fix her hair with her hands—she is need of a shower, however, today she does not feel that there will be enough time. After all, today she has to find Alexis. Emma enters Justine’s living room to find her and Hope spending time on the floor, painting and laughing.

  “You’re up,” Justine says as she sets her brush down into a plastic cup full of water. “I tried to wake you up earlier, but you were either really tired or really into a dream you were having.”

  “What time is it?” Emma asks as she rubs her still tired eyes.

  “A little after one,” Justine says as she nods. “It’s okay though—you probably needed the rest. Besides, I’ve had Hope here to keep me company.”

  “I need to get out to the cemetery,” Emma says as she picks up her purse from a nearby table.

  “I made some grilled cheese sandwiches,” Justine says as she heads to the kitchen. “You should have something to eat before you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Emma says as she begins to head out. “Thank you.”

  “Remember,” Justine adds. “Keep in contact.”

  “I’ll call right when I see her,” Emma says as she nods.

  “One more thing,” Justine says as she catches Emma before she opens the door.

  “Hmm…?”

  “I saw the news this morning—I was up pretty early…anyway, they say that it is going to storm on Tuesday. They say a cold front will be coming in and temperatures will reach back down into like the seventies. Pretty crazy…considering,” Justine says as she smiles hopefully. “I mean they’re always wrong with the weather—but, maybe they aren’t?”

  “Let’s hope so,” Emma says as she returns the smile and heads out the door.

  The afternoon heat is unbearable as Emma climbs into her Impala and patiently waits for the air conditioning to cool the vehicle down to a temperature bearable enough so that she can stand to place her hands upon the scorching steering wheel. It reminds her of placing her hands upon the black mask that girl was wearing, an altogether unpleasant feeling—although touching the steering wheel does not cause her to burn to death, thankfully.

  Emma begins to head out of the city, which appears almost like a ghost town. She passes about two cars on her way out. As she passes her house, she decides to head in—to see if anything has changed. As she climbs up the staircase and enters the red hall, she is confronted with the platforms that lead down into the basement. She precariously navigates her way around the edge and begins to ascend the spiral staircase. Emma reaches the top of the staircase and stands before the shut door to her attic room.

  “Elizabeth,” Emma says as she knocks upon the door with her knuckles. “It’s Emma.”

  “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth whispers beyond the door. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “I’d rather you not—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Something strange happened in the basement—well, I mean the living room and kitchen are now sort of…in the basement.”

  “That’s the path,” Elizabeth says softly.

  “What path?”

  “The path of the sun,” Elizabeth says as she lets out a short cough. “I’m very weak; I need to sleep for tomorrow.”

  “Can I do anything to help you?”

  “No…I’ll be fine tomorrow,” Elizabeth says.

  Emma nods to herself and begins to walk away; she hurries down the staircase and stops just as she reaches the bottom. She spots her laptop on one of the platforms and climbs down the mess of broken wood and floor and retrieves it. To her surprise, it is still powered on. A word document is open on her screen—a short letter has been typed out addressed to her.

  Emma,

  How many masks do we wear to hide who we truly are? When confronted with the truth, would we even recognize ourselves? If you knew you who you really were, would you choose the right path?

  SOL

  As Emma finishes reading the letter, the screen on the laptop turns blank. Was this left for her in response to her actions during her nightmare? Emma felt that she had a pretty good grasp on who she was at the moment—after all, she had discovered quite a few things. She learned about her past—the truth about her mother, her stepfather, and the role that Brian Metcalfe played in it. Despite learning about her rather terrible past she felt that she had a pretty good grip on her sense of self. Of course, there were still things she did not remember fully—her life before she became Alexis was still hazy. Even her own interests and talents were a mystery to Emma. The more she thought about it, the more distressed she felt. She did not know what kind of music she liked, or what her favorite movie or book was. Then more Emma reflected upon it, the more she realized—she does not know who she is now. She knows her past, but her present self is very much a mystery. Emma does not like thinking about this.

  “SOL…” Emma says as she places the laptop back onto the floor and climbs back up to ground level. Emma remembers Elizabeth’s explanation, ‘Latin for sun.’ However, there is a second one, SOL were also her mother’s initials—that was why it was etched on the silver blade used to kill her stepfather. The idea that the message was left by either terrifies her more than the fact that she does not truly know herself.

  Emma cautiously steps her way to the door and looks down to a picture of Emma and her mother as she reaches the red hallway. “I didn’t really know you either…” Emma whispers. She remembers back to a time when she thought all these pictures were of her sister and her mother. “At least, not the real you…did I?”

  Emma returns to her car. She begins to drive down Old Pine Hallow Road; she follows it until it curves into a thick forest of tall white oak trees. The sun shimmers through the makeshift ceiling of emerald leaves as creates a strobe like effect on the window of the car as Emma continues down the magnificent tunnel of trees. For a moment, Emma thinks back to that painting in Dr. Riley’s office. This place looks similar. It is strange that Emma has never made the connection before. Emma pulls off onto a rock road and passes a pair of weather worn steel gates as she enters the old cemetery. She continues along the rough road that causes her car to rock and buffet against its uneven surface until she reaches the small clearing. A police car is parked off to the side with its door left ajar. Emma pulls behind the abandoned vehicle and climbs out. She reaches for her phone and clicks on Justine’s number. After a few rings, she answers.

  “Emma?”

  “I’m here,” Emma replies.

  “And Alexis…?”

  “She is definitely here,” Emma says as she spots the girl a short distance away.

  “Keep me posted,” Justine says with a concerned tone. “If you don’t call me in an hour I’ll send the police out.”

  “It’ll be an interesting story—“Emma says as she lets out a short laugh. “But I do appreciate your concern. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Take care,” Justine says as she disconnects.

  Emma approaches Alexis who is resting next to her mother’s grave. She is resting against the side of the stone, which looks to be quite damaged. A sledge hammer rests in Alexis’s lap.

&
nbsp; “Alexis,” Emma announces as she stops in front of the grave. Part of the S in Sarah is missing and broken fragments of the grave marker scatter the brown dead grass around it.

  “Not as easy as I thought it would be,” Alexis says as she turns to face Emma and shields her eyes from the bright sun. “Would you like to give it a swing?”

  “I’m good,” Emma says as she nods. “What are we hoping for here?”

  “Erasing her from…history?” Alexis says as she shrugs her shoulders.

  “In two days,” Emma adds. “It’s all going to be gone anyway right?”

  “Well it makes me feel better,” Alexis says with a tone of annoyance in her voice. “What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you hated me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” Emma says, although she knows that this is mostly not true. “Is that your car by the way?”

  “Yeah,” Emma says with a single nod and a smile. “They left it sitting around at the house—you should have seen their faces as it just drove off. They couldn’t see me.”

  “I could only imagine,” Emma says as she sits down and places her hand against the etched stone name of her mother.

  Alexis gets back to her feet and lets out a heavy sigh and raises the sledge hammer high above her head.

  “Stop…” Emma commands.

  Alexis freezes just as she is about to bring the hammer down, her eyes are narrowed and her face is clenched and muscles in her arms are visible as her hands are embraced upon the handle and ready for impact.

  “It’s not worth it,” Emma whispers into Alexis’s ear.

  Alexis breaks free of the command and drops the hammer as a shocked look washes over her once determined face. “You can’t do that…”

  “I’m not here to fight you,” Emma says as she takes a few steps away.

  “Fuck off!” Alexis shouts as Emma is physically lifted into the air and thrown all the way back towards the vehicles.