by Logan Castle
I slammed my eyes shut and counted to ten, desperately hoping to somehow hit the reset button. When I reopened them, I prayed I would find myself again staring at Plum’s beautiful face.
A genuine malaise of disappointment struck me when I opened my eyes and discovered that was not the case. I was still trapped in darkness, perched on a swaying bridge over what I could only describe as the waters of hell. I had no idea where I was or how I’d gotten here. I tried to retrace my steps and the moments leading up to this, but despite my efforts to concentrate, my brain remained empty. My last memory was of the moment when I was staring directly into Plum’s bottomless, blue eyes. And then, I was here.
Peeking over the edge of the bridge, I tried to gain my equilibrium as the bridge continued to sway back and forth. I nearly toppled over when a huge wave slammed into it, this one stronger than the one before. Clearly, I needed to get off this bridge, and pronto! Every moment spent standing there felt more like a wobbly tightrope. No way did I want to fall into the vast nothingness that loomed below me.
Checking in front of myself and then behind, I was trying to decide if I should walk forwards or turn around and head the other way. As if sensing my internal dilemma, another powerful wave crashed into the bridge, nearly sending me over the side. I made the impulsive decision to proceed forward.
Holding onto the weathered railing of the ancient bridge, I could feel the splinters protruding from the old wood as they pierced my skin. The rotting wood creaked and groaned beneath my weight as I took short steps forward. After about two dozen unsteady strides, I could make out the ominous shapes of mountains in the distance. Against the dark sky, they were nothing more than hulking mounds of black matter. As I inched closer, the outline became more apparent. I could only gaze up in wonder because the mountains were so tall, they seemed to touch the heavens themselves.
The silhouette of mountains was dark and menacing, but I noticed the eerie appearance of an entryway that opened to an empty space directly in front of me. It seemed as if someone had used a razor-sharp knife to slice a perfect wedge from the mountain itself. Suspended over that clean break in the rock was the bridge I now found myself perched on.
While gazing into the center of the black crevice between the mountains, I was inexplicably drawn to it. Suddenly, I got a burning urge to run directly at it. Like I was being called or summoned in that direction. It was all I could do to block it out. At the same time, a voice kept shrieking in my mind to stop right where I was. A dark sense of foreboding overcame me and I eventually stopped dead in my tracks. I could not shake the horrible feeling that wherever I was going would lead me into oblivion.
After halting my forward progress, another wave rocked the bridge and almost sent me flying over the side again. I stumbled and fell, but somehow managed to remain atop the flimsy planks. Lying there, I was unsure whether I should spring back on my feet or remain on all haunches. My greatest fear was that another wave would knock me from the pathway just as I was regaining my balance.
As I lay there considering my dismal options, I watched the angry sea slamming wave after wave against the cliffs in front of me. They struck the jagged terrain with reckless abandon; the unrelenting water crashing into the uncompromising rock and reverberating in the air around me. It became so obnoxiously loud that I had to place my hands over my ears to muffle it, if only for one blissful moment.
That’s when I heard it.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A slow, rhythmic, methodical sound. It was so clear that, even with my hands pressed over my ears, it sounded like it was right next to me.
Caught completely by surprise, I dropped my hands and frantically looked around for the source of the strange sound. As soon as I freed my ears, the sound vanished and the roar of crashing waves once again assaulted my ears.
“What the?” I started, but quickly stopped as something suddenly clicked inside me.
I placed my trembling hands back over my ears. As soon as I did, the beeping noise came roaring back but this time, there was nothing slow or peaceful about it. It had sped up dramatically, now sounding frantic and desperate. Then I heard a voice.
“Doctor!”
Twisting my neck to look around, I was trying to decipher whether I was alone in the blackness. I nearly cried out in joy at the notion that someone else might have been here with me. But there was no one and nothing, save for the cliffs and the towering waves that beat them mercilessly. Apparently, the beeping sounds were only in my head, emerging from somewhere in the recesses of my mind, like whispers from a dream.
This dream, however, wouldn’t end. Even though I knew I was alone, there were voices that continued to echo in my ears. Some were high-pitched and one was very deep. I couldn’t decipher what they were saying at first so I concentrated harder, doing my best to ignore the incessant beeping. As I listened intently, my hands cupped tightly over my ears, an icy wave of terror swept through me and I suddenly knew exactly what that beeping was.
It was a heart monitor.
“He’s going into cardiac arrest!” a panicked woman’s voice abruptly shrieked.
Without warning, it felt like someone had suddenly delivered a savage blow to my solar plexus and a hot wave of pain pierced my body. My skull seemed ready to explode and I clawed at my head, trying to alleviate the unremitting pain that was overtaking me.
In a flash, memories and images, most of them previously unavailable to me, came back to me all at once. They penetrated the foggy haze of my brain and appeared vividly in my mind. The unexpected influx of data hit me like a ton of bricks and there was simply no stopping it. Then it all came back to me: New Year’s Eve… the bar… the bathroom stall… and my final moments of consciousness before I woke up and found myself here.
As the memories finished reeling themselves back into my brain, the pain in my head mercifully began to dissipate. Slowly heaving one breath after another, I continued to lie there and sort through the rush of memories that were now front and center in my brain. At that moment, the sinking realization of where I was hit me like a ton of bricks.
A chorus of voices suddenly sounded all around me. They were no longer simply relegated to the inside of my head. They were audible and crystal clear, completely silencing the roar of the waves slamming into the rocks.
“We aren’t registering any brain activity, Doctor! He’s flat-lining!” exclaimed a frenzied male voice.
I must’ve overdosed in that bathroom. That realization would have dropped me to my knees if I weren’t already down. I felt the blood draining from my face as my whole body grew cold.
“I’m dying,” I said, the shock in my tone distorting my voice so much that I barely even recognized it. “Or else, I’m already dead. Which makes this place…”
Then, just like that, everything about the place suddenly began to make sense. There actually was a good reason why, ever since I opened my eyes and found myself here, the hairs on the back of my neck wouldn’t go down. And why every forward step I took was followed by a cold, icy grip that held me in place and tried to prevent me from moving onward. The air around me suddenly felt as if it were condensing, growing heavier before it became too difficult for me to breathe.
“I’m dead,” I gasped, trying to penetrate my own shock and convince myself that it was really true.
Could it be true? Was I really dead? And this? Was this my final march through the Valley of the Shadow of Death?
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head in blind denial. “This can’t be happening!”
I was hammered by a volley of thoughts and images, one on top of the other, all piling into my already overloaded mind. I thought of Plum. I imagined her face when she heard the news. Would she be okay? Would she even care? My kids? What about my kids?!
I could just see it now—some asshole explaining to them how their father died from a cocaine overdose, probably after doing a face plant into a puddle of my own piss and shit.
> I ground my teeth together. I refused to die like that! No way in hell! The bridge I was on went forward and backward. Now I understood what it meant for me to continue on, venturing into the valley between the two cliffs and into the darkness beyond.
“No,” I said into the air before it was swallowed by the raging tempest beneath me.
I didn’t let that beat me. The image of Plum and my two boys flashed into my mind. “For them… NO!”
I suddenly felt the air around me growing balmy as the wind calmed and became much more docile. I could finally manage to inhale several deep breaths. Once my lungs expanded with the much-needed oxygen, I sprang to my feet and turned around. I was fully ready to retreat the same way I came. I really hoped to escape the gaping blackness that was now way too close for comfort.
“Quickly! We only have one shot at this!”
I couldn’t acknowledge the voices that chorused around me from all angles. I just ran as fast as I could, with my only priority being that I had to get back. It kept racing through my head. I refused to die, not like this. I didn’t know where this new direction would lead me but I had a pretty good idea of where the path was headed.
As if trying to impede my progress, a strong wind suddenly beset me, forcing me to slow down my forward momentum. I refused to let it stop me. Not now, not when I could glimpse the end of the bridge and the tangled path back to my life. With renewed determination, I put my head down and drove my legs forward, running headlong into the billowing gusts of wind. While they slowed me down and briefly hampered me, they couldn’t throw me off my course.
“FUCK YOU!!” I shouted at the icy gusts.
I could hear more beeping and I assumed it was my heart beating. Somewhat arrhythmic and wild, but at least my pulse was still there. I wasn’t gone yet…
And then, like a haymaker that generally follows a jab, a huge swath of black water loomed up in the distance in front of me. My heart sank as I watched it climbing higher and higher into the air, rearing back like a cobra about to strike.
The black wave arched to its peak before crashing down, violently testing the bridge as it sped towards me. I screeched to a halt when the bridge swayed back and forth, throwing me onto my knees as I watched the massive black and powerful tsunami bearing down directly above me.
The beeping of the heart monitor abruptly stopped.
I’d been a fool to think I could so easily cheat Death. Clenching my eyes shut tightly, I realized I was losing the fight. You don’t cheat Death. Death always has the last laugh.
I looked right into the face of the black wave and the sad realization that I lost the battle nearly overcame me. I didn’t even blink when I felt the first drops hitting my face. Any moment now, it would all be over.
Something, a hand I think, grasped my forearm. I couldn’t even turn my head any longer to see to whom it belonged. I could only watch in horror as the wave prepared to swallow me whole. But then I glimpsed a flash of white, searing light. It was so bright that I had to close my eyes fearing they would be scorched right out of my face.
*
Then there was pain, constant and ever-expanding pain.
It was so constant and unrelenting; it was overtaking all my senses and becoming a plague to me.
I could hardly hear the grinding of my teeth over the sound of the tattoo needle driving into my flesh over and over again. As even more lines were carved into my inflamed skin, I began to gaze in admiration at the full scope of the illustration on my right forearm. It looked like the tattoo on my left forearm, since both were clocks, but that’s where the similarity ended. The tattoo on my left arm symbolized the past with its copper-colored gears and counter-clockwise numerals; while the one on my right was the clock of tomorrow, complete with futuristic components and gold linkage. Together, they signified a deep childhood fascination…no, it was an obsession that I had with time – one that I’d had for as long as I could remember. I always wanted my tattoos to show that side of me but I refused to get them until I could draw up some designs that truly represented what they meant to me. With Plum’s support and encouragement, I finally made the plunge and here I was, getting them permanently etched into my skin.
I was mercifully allowed a brief respite when the huddled figure of Brendan, the tattoo artist, withdrew the needle from my swollen flesh and swung himself backwards in the circular swivel chair toward the desk behind him. I watched wearily as he dabbed the needle into a small, pinky-sized container of ink. The empty needle quickly filled up with the liquid and, in a blur, he swung back around, grabbing my forearm. I looked at his face and saw his brown eyes already trained on mine.
Despite being hunched over as he was in his chair, Brendan retained a stature about him that spoke volumes. His face, unkempt with the early days of a beard, contained a youthfulness that defied the true age of his body. I guessed he was probably around forty-five but he could have easily passed for thirty-five. His boyish features were deceptive and the trucker hat, which he wore backwards, covered an otherwise bald head. He had tattoos on every inch of his exposed skin. It would not have surprised me if they covered his unexposed skin as well. I sometimes found myself studying them as he worked but always felt awkward when he looked up and caught me doing it.
In any case, the artwork displayed across his body was more than enough evidence to convey how serious this man was about his craft, and the proof was definitely in the pudding of his masterpieces.
“We are on the home stretch here. Only a few more areas to cover and none of them are going to tickle, I promise. Are you ready?” His voice was coarse and dry, somewhat incongruent with the words he uttered.
“Yes,” I croaked.
“Good. Even if you said no, we were still gonna go,” he replied with a smug smile on his face.
I felt the needle touching my forearm and a sadly familiar yanking and tearing feeling as it penetrated the swollen, angry flesh, dispersing the various colors. My eyes slammed shut and I held them that way, tightening the seal around the lids as the pain intensified.
All at once, I felt a hand squeezing my left one and a cool sense of relief washed over me. I opened my eyes.
Plum was staring back at me.
I looked right into her loving, blue eyes that revealed nothing but genuine concern. As the tugging sensation increased, I could only stare at Plum’s mouth. It opened and silently formed three very distinct words.
I. Love. You.
Despite still hurting like a son of a bitch, I grinned like a fool and mouthed the same words back to her. For a fleeting moment in time, which was actually more than a few minutes, I just stared at her and her at me. The sound of Brendan’s voice interrupted our trance.
“All finished.”
I took that as a sign that I could finally get onto my feet so I pushed out of the chair…but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. Not only was an intense pressure coming from my left forearm, but also the iron grip that was keeping me firmly in place. I saw that Plum was still seated and staring intently at my forearm with a mesmerized look on her face. She was clutching onto me so hard that she dug her nails into my already wounded skin.
“Plum?” I said gently, my attempt to warn her that she was hurting me. She didn’t respond and her relentless grip remained unshakeable.
“Plum!” I repeated, more insistently this time as I tried to pry her loose. She didn’t respond. “What’s gotten into you?” I asked as I turned to Brendan, now somewhat embarrassed that my girlfriend was acting so weird in front of him.
But when I looked at him, I was shocked. Caught in mid-air. Totally paralyzed and frozen as if someone had pressed pause in the midst of his movement.
“This is when it happens.”
My head swung back and I looked at the now slouched-over figure of Plum. That voice. It came from Plum but it definitely wasn’t hers. The pitch was different, softer, and the words that flowed from her mouth were almost like a song but not
quite. They naturally possessed some sort of melodic quality.
I glanced up again at Brendan, still reeling over his paralysis and apparent inability to break it.
“Do not fear for your friend.”
Plum’s voice again. I looked back over at her and found her staring unblinkingly at Brendan.
As I examined her face, I didn’t immediately see anything outwardly different about her that would suggest she wasn’t the Plum I knew and loved so well. But the longer I studied her, the more I realized her eyes were different…deeper, if that were even possible. There was something odd about them that suggested a wisdom I knew Plum didn’t possess. Not that she wasn’t intelligent—on the contrary, she was the most intelligent woman I’d ever met. But this was something different altogether. It was almost as if her eyes reflected an age-old wisdom, an understanding of ancient things that Plum could never have hoped to possess, given her thirty-six years of age. Her eyes looked older, but not in the sense of physical age, but because they belonged to someone who had seen far more than her limited number of years would otherwise indicate.
Stop it! Your mind is just playing tricks on you, my inner voice screamed at me, but without the slightest bit of conviction.
Despite having Plum’s physical form, the person who was speaking through her and staring at my forearms like nothing else mattered wasn’t her. As she continued to stare at my recently completed tattoo, a small curvature of her lips only further convinced me that she wasn’t Plum at all. Plum didn’t smile like that.