Twisted Little Things and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  Reaching the stairwell I was at earlier, I shine the torch around, but of course there's still no sign of anyone. I take a step back, feeling as if I'm filled with a sense of impotent rage.

  “Just tell me what this is all about!” I shout. “I just want to -”

  Suddenly someone grabs me from behind and clamps a hand over my mouth.

  “Quiet!” a voice hisses in my ear. “Don't say another word!”

  ***

  “Mark, what the hell are you doing?” I ask a few seconds later, reaching out and putting my arms around him. “I thought you were dead!”

  “Keep your voice down,” he hisses, pulling away and then grabbing my hand before leading me quickly along the corridor. “What the hell's wrong with you? Why were you making all that noise?”

  “I was just trying to get someone to answer me -”

  “In here!” he adds, interrupting me as he pulls me through a doorway and into a small cabin on the ferry's starboard side. Closing the door, he grabs the flashlight from my hand. “At least you found this. I found yours, but it was all smashed up.” He pauses, with a wild, slightly manic look in his eyes. “I'm sorry I crept up on you, I just had to get you to shut the hell up. Do you seriously want that thing to get angry?”

  “What thing?” I ask. “Mark, I don't even know if any of this is real!”

  “Where have you been?” he asks. “What happened to you after we split up?”

  “My tanks got damaged,” I tell him, “and then when the ferry...” I pause for a moment, as I realize that the entire thing sounds completely unbelievable. “Where are we?” I ask finally. “Did you see the people in the cargo hold? They were floating around earlier but they were still alive, and then they went straight back to the hold as soon as the ferry came up, except...” I wait for him to reply, hoping against hope that he might have an explanation. “Either I'm losing my mind,” I continue finally, “or we're in the middle of something completely insane. I've tried coming up with explanations, but I'm all out.”

  “It's real,” he replies, hurrying past me and looking out the window for a moment. “I thought I was dreaming at first, but now I can tell. Whatever this place is, it's definitely real.” He turns to me. “Have you talked to him yet?”

  “Talked to who?”

  “The captain.”

  “What captain?” I ask. “There's no-one on the bridge, there's -”

  “There is someone on the bridge.”

  “No,” I reply, “Mark, I would have -”

  “There's someone on the bridge,” he says again, more firmly this time. “He's in the chair by the wheel, and sometimes he gets up and makes adjustments, but mostly he just sits there. You can't see him when it's too bright, but he's there. When it's dark, if you get close enough...” He pauses. “Haven't you seen him at all? Not even once?”

  “I...” Pausing, I realize that he's serious. “There hasn't been anyone on the bridge when I've been there,” I tell him, even though I'm already starting to doubt myself. “I swear.”

  “He's there, alright,” Mark continues, heading to the door and pulling it open, before pausing as if he's listening for any hint of movement. “He's old, his skin has almost wasted away. You can see through his bare ribs. Every time he moves, his bones creak. The first time I saw him, I thought I'd lost my mind. I thought I was imagining it all.” Leaning out into the corridor, he quickly looks both ways before pulling back and closing the door again. Finally, he turns to me. “He's in charge of this thing.”

  “Mark -”

  “I've seen him!”

  “But...” Pausing again, I try to work out what we're supposed to do next. “Did you ask him what's happening?”

  “He ignored me, but...” He puts a hand over his eyes for a moment, as if he's close to cracking up. “I'm not imagining this, Sophie. It's all real.”

  “What happened to you after we got separated?” I ask.

  “I went down to the engine room,” he continues. “I lost contact with you, but I figured it'd be okay for just a few minutes. There were bodies floating down there, but I ignored them. I was taking a look around when suddenly everything seemed to shudder. That was when the ferry started to raise itself and -”

  “That's impossible,” I reply firmly. “It can't have raised itself!”

  “And then it set off on this course,” he adds. “Don't you think it's odd that not one helicopter has come to check on us? This ferry slips through the world unseen, Sophie. I don't know why it sometimes becomes visible for brief periods, or why the storm last night caused it to run into trouble, but for the most part this thing doesn't show up on any radar screens, it doesn't even get spotted by other vessels, not unless it happens to run into them. Do you realize what that means?”

  As the ferry's hull creaks again, I realize that I don't want to vocalize any of the crazier ideas that are churning at the back of my mind. Despite everything, I'm still hoping to come up with a rational explanation.

  “I heard you shouting earlier,” he continues, his voice trembling a little, “but by that point I was just trying to keep out of the way and avoid being spotted. Then when we reached this place...” He looks out the window again. “I think those people in the hold were dead, Sophie. I think this is their final journey.”

  I wait for him to continue, but he seems lost in thought. “That's impossible,” I say eventually. “You're reading too much into it.”

  “Stop saying that,” he mutters, turning to me. “If you have a better explanation, let's hear it.”

  I open my mouth to argue with him, but no words come out.

  “How much do you know about Greek mythology?” he asks.

  “Mark -”

  “The Styx was a river of the dead,” he continues. “Another was called Acheron, which isn't that dissimilar to Aspheron, so maybe there was some bastardization along the way.”

  “Mark -”

  “Listen to me!” he hisses with the insistence of a madman, as he grabs my shoulders. “I'm not saying that all the stories about the Styx are true, I'm just saying that maybe they're based on a kernel of truth, and maybe that kernel of truth is the place where we're docked right now.”

  “Mark, you can't just -”

  “Look out the window,” he continues, forcibly turning me around, “and tell me that the land out there couldn't be the place where dead people go.”

  Staring out the window, I watch for a moment as distant fires continue to burn under a night sky filled with unfamiliar stars. I want to argue with Mark, to tell him that his ideas are crazy, but at the same time they actually seem to fit in with what I'm seeing. I'm not ready to accept that this is some land of the dead, or that the canal is actually the river Styx, but I can't bring myself to dismiss the whole thing yet, not as I watch dark shadows passing across the landscape, and not as that infernal church bell tolls once again in the distance. All I know for certain is that I'm standing here on this ferry, looking out at a place that shouldn't exist.

  “The man I saw on the bridge,” he says after a moment, “might be Charon.”

  I turn to him.

  “The ferryman who took the dead to their new home,” he continues, his eyes filled with a kind of wild passion, as if he truly believes what he's saying. “Did you see any coins? Did any of the dead have a coin with them?”

  “Mark -”

  “It's just little pinpricks of sense,” he adds. “Tiny little parts of the story that add up, while the rest...” His voice trails off, and for a moment he seems lost in thought again.

  Turning to look back out the window, I realize I can see a figure standing on the jetty. Although I can't see the figure's face, I feel as if it's staring straight up at me. A moment later, another shadow passes across the land, and this time it's followed by a faint patch of moonlight that reveals the figure's face.

  It's her.

  It's Mary Sullivan, the little girl from the boat all those years ago.

  “No,” I whisper, stari
ng down into her dead eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you see?” Mark asks.

  I stare into Mary's eyes for a moment, before turning and heading to the door. “I have to go to her,” I tell him. “I have to -”

  “Stop!” he hisses, grabbing my wrist. “Go to who?”

  “It's her,” I continue, trying to get free of his grip. “It's Mary Sullivan! It's the little girl from the cruiser!”

  “Sophie, be reasonable -”

  “Reasonable?” I shout, turning and pushing him away. “It's your fault we're on this boat in the first place! If I hadn't listened to you, I'd still be at home! I'd still be alive, or... I wouldn't be on this thing!” There are tears in my eyes now, and I feel as if I'm close to another breakdown. “I'd be at home, in bed, next to Rob, living my boring life and not caught up in all this madness!”

  “We have to stay calm,” he continues, following me out into the corridor. “If this boat heads back the way it came, that means we might be able to escape once we're back in our world! There's a lifeboat on the main deck, Sophie, we can use it to get away!”

  “Then let's go!” I hiss, pulling free from his grip and heading out into the corridor. Using my flashlight to find the way, I hurry forward, only to hear Mark coming up behind me.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “I'm going to her.”

  “And then what?”

  Hurrying up the stairs and onto the ferry's bridge, I make my way to the door. “I don't know, I just -”

  “Sophie, he's here!”

  Stopping, I turn and glance back at Mark, and I realize that he's staring at the chair by the wheel. I look across the dark space, but the chair looks empty to me.

  “There's no-one there,” I point out.

  “Go closer,” he replies. “You can only see him when you're close enough.”

  “There's no-one there,” I say again, starting to feel a little exasperated as I shine the flashlight straight at the empty chair. Mark's always been a level-headed guy, so it's kind of weird to hear him talking like this. “Look! It's empty, there's -”

  “Turn that off” he says, hurrying to me and grabbing the flashlight, before switching it off. “Now go and take a look.”

  “Mark -”

  “Just do it!”

  Staring across the dark bridge, I realize I can just about make out the chair next to the wheel, but there's still no sign of anyone.

  “Go closer,” Mark whispers. “I know this sounds crazy, but you'll understand once you see him.”

  Pausing for a moment, I finally decide to humor him. I take a few steps toward the empty chair, but there's still no-one there.

  “Mark -”

  “Closer.”

  “But Mark -”

  “Closer!” he hisses.

  Sighing, I take a few more steps toward the chair, until I'm just a few feet away. There's still no-one there, and I'm starting to think that Mark might have seriously cracked up, but at the same time I'm also starting to feel as if there's a presence nearby. I feel an overwhelming urge to pull back, but instead I take another step toward the chair. Although I still don't see anyone, I tilt my head slightly as I realize that the darkness ahead seems different somehow, as if a shape is slowly starting to emerge. Stepping closer, I hold my breath for a moment, and finally I realize I can see the faintest impression of a skull staring back at me from the gloom, just a few inches away.

  I step back, but he's still there: a skeletal figure, sitting slightly hunched in the chair, as if he's exhausted. There are a few strips of rotten fabric still on his shoulders and some scraps of skin on his bones, but for the most part he looks to have wasted away entirely, as if someone left a corpse in charge of the boat.

  “Sophie?” Mark whispers. “Do you see him now?”

  “I -”

  Before I can say another word, the skull twist slightly. I step aside and watch with a sense of shock as he reached out and puts a creaking, bony hand on the ferry's navigation wheel and turns it slightly. A moment later, I feel the entire ferry start to shudder.

  “We're moving,” Mark says.

  “This isn't real,” I whisper.

  “Sophie -”

  “This is a trick,” I continue, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. “I've lost my mind. It's... it's... It's not real.”

  “I see it too, Sophie.”

  “Then it's a hologram,” I reply, still staring at the skeletal figure. “It's some kind of... They're trying to scare us away.”

  “Sophie, the boat's moving.”

  Turning, I run to the door and look out, and I see that he's right. The ferry has started to turn, and when I race to the railing and look down to the jetty, I realize we're already several feet out. The dead little girl is still down there, still looking up at me, and I'm suddenly overcome by the feeling that I have to go down and talk to her. Taking hold of the railing, I start to climb over, ready to jump into the water and swim to shore.

  “Stop!” Mark shouts, grabbing my arm.

  “Let me go!”

  “Like hell!” Pulling me back, he throws me down onto the deck. “Are you insane?”

  “I have to see her!” I shout, struggling to my feet. Right now, the only thing that matters is getting down there, even if I have to jump.

  “Why?” Mark asks. “So she can tell you it wasn't your fault?”

  Hurrying back to the railing, I look down and see that this time the jetty is empty. I watch for a moment, as the ferry swings around, and finally I turn back to Mark.

  “What do you expect?” he asks. “Answers? Let's just get to the lifeboat and make sure we're ready to go when we get back to normal seas. If we get back to normal seas. We can work out the rest later. Maybe we're mad, maybe we're both completely mad and we're imagining all of this, but we can worry about that once we're back on dry land. Please, Sophie, I feel like I'm losing my mind here. We need to stick together and get the hell out of this place. Are you with me?”

  I pause, staring at him.

  “Sophie,” he says firmly, “are you with me?”

  I nod, unable to get any words out.

  “We need to make sure the lifeboat's ready to go,” he continues. “Just ignore everything else and focus on practical steps.”

  He heads to the lifeboat, but I hurry back to the bridge and look inside. Sure enough, the skeletal figure is still in place, with one hand still turning the wheel as a patch of moonlight catches his profile.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  No answer. He doesn't even turn to look at me, instead keeping his hollow eyes fixed on the view ahead.

  “What was that place?” I continue, taking a step toward him. “I saw someone there, someone I met once before. Was she... Why was she looking up at me?”

  The boat shudders slightly, but the captain doesn't respond at all.

  “I need to know,” I tell him, as I edge closer.

  Still ignoring me, he adjusts the wheel again. His bones seem to creak, and a moment later the ferry's hull does the same. Now that I can see him more clearly, I'm able to make out patches of dried flesh that cling to his skull, and there are even a few old, gray strands of hair dangling down at the sides.

  “Please,” I whisper, staring into his dark, empty eyes, “I just -”

  “Sophie!” Mark shouts from out on the main deck. “Hurry!”

  I turn and look over at the window, and I'm shocked to see that somehow the light of dawn has already arrived, and that Mark is working to get the lifeboat down from the ropes and over the edge.

  “Please,” I continue, turning back to the captain, “can't you -”

  He's gone.

  I look around, but there's no sign of him as early morning light continues to spread rapidly across the sky. A moment later, feeling a faint shudder beneath my feet, I see the wheel turning slightly, as if some unseen force is adding a fresh adjustment. Even though I can't see the ship's skeletal captain, I think he's still
there, still controlling the wheel.

  “Sophie!” Mark shouts, louder than before. “There's no time!”

  Stepping back, I still can't help looking around, convinced that I'll see the captain again. As the wheel turns the other way, however, I realize that there's nothing else I can do, so I head out onto the deck and immediately feel the ferry shifting a little beneath my feet as the sea becomes rougher. Above, a slowly lightening gray sky seems to indicate that we're back in more familiar territory, and sure enough there's no sign of the strange land when I look over the railing.

  “Hurry!” Mark shouts.

  Racing over to join him, I find that he's already managed to maneuver the lifeboat over the side, and now he's trying to work the ropes.

  “Someone has to stay up here and hold them in place,” I tell him. “You go down and control the descent from inside the boat, I'll wait up here and then I'll come down as soon as I can.”

  “I'm not leaving you,” he replies.

  “You won't be leaving me!” I point out. “I'll be right behind you! You need to be the one controlling the guide-ropes from inside the boat, you're better at that than me!”

  He pauses for a moment, as if he's going to argue with me, before turning and clambering over the railing, finally jumping into the lifeboat.

  “It might be a bumpy ride,” I tell him, as I untie one of the ropes. As if to prove my point, the lifeboat swings down several feet and bangs into the side of the ferry. “Hold her tight!” I shout, pulling on another of the ropes in an attempt to make sure that he doesn't simply drop like a stone.

  For the next few seconds, all I can do is try to hold onto the ropes. My arms are ringing with pain, but I force myself to keep a tight grip and finally I hear Mark shouting from below. Turning, I look over the railing and see that he's just a few feet above the surface. I immediately let go of the ropes and watch as he splashes down, and then I climb over, ready to make my way down the final rope that's holding him close to the ferry. Just as I'm about to go down, however, I glance over my shoulder and see that the captain is standing in the bridge, just by the door, staring straight at me.