EverFall

by Joe Hart

  Kotis opened one eye and smiled again. “Shit-feathers.” Scrim clicked once and laid his head on Kotis’s chest.

  Fellow stooped beside me and put a wooden hand against Kotis’s forehead.

  Kotis smiled briefly. “Didn’t know what we were gettin’ ourselves into, huh, mate?”

  “No, I guess not,” Fellow said.

  “It worked out good though, we made it.” Kotis opened his eyes and squinted at me. “How did you do it? How did you know?”

  “You both showed me,” I said, motioning to the blood on the ground. “When you stepped in to save me, your blood destroyed the tissue where it fell. Sacrifice, it’s the opposite of evil. I figured if what he said about my blood being powerful was true, it would have an even greater effect.”

  Kotis coughed, and grimaced as gore speckled his lips. “You were right.” His voice sounded weaker and distant. He must have heard it himself, because he shook his head and gritted his teeth against what longed to pull him away. His eyes were clear when he looked at us again. “Fellow, will you watch over Shila and Fin for me?”

  “Of course, my friend. They will be safe, do not worry.”

  “And give Scrim to Fin, he’s his problem now.” Scrim clicked once, and Kotis chuckled as more blood bubbled to his lips.

  His eyes searched for a moment, and then found me and focused. “You were right,” he repeated, and I figured he was fading, perhaps recalling how I’d killed Ellius. But then he looked past me, his vision locked on something beyond my face. I thought he might have passed then, but he inhaled a stuttering breath. “They were there ... the whole time.”

  I lifted my head and followed his line of sight. There were stars in the sky.

  I hadn’t noticed until then that the rain had stopped completely. A hole in the storm hung above us. The sun was still blotted out on all sides, but the view within the break was breathtaking. A billion points of flickering light dotted the ashen sky. They coated it in a shimmering blanket that seemed to move like some cosmic tide. I held my breath and gazed up at stars that I’d never seen before, and wondered what their names were. Fellow’s hand gripped my arm gently, and I looked back down.

  Kotis’s eyes were closed. He was gone.

  Chapter 11

  Goodbyes

  We walked. For days we retraced the steps I’d taken. At first I was apprehensive, but then I noticed that there was an absence other than Kotis. It was the lack of dread. For nearly a week I’d been in constant fear, pushed to thresholds in my mind, sick with worry about a family I thought I would never see again. But now they were by my side. What would come would come, and we would meet it together.

  Fellow carried Scrim, who still wasn’t able to fly but seemed to improve as the days wore on. His wing gradually straightened, until it looked almost normal. But his eyes had changed, and it wasn’t until I looked at them closely that I realized the gold was gone from them. Perhaps it would return someday, the passage of time healing whatever pain resided within his heart just as it did his wing.

  We made our way over the landmarks of the journey. There was the house of mirrors in the distance, the teeth of Lonos, and the deep river with its water barely discernable nearly a mile beneath the bridge. We rested always with a fire, and Fellow found us as much food as we could eat within the nearby woods. Jack and Sara were quiet and withdrawn for a full day before their personalities began to come back, their smiles shafts of sunlight breaking through heavy clouds.

  Jane and I made love one evening when everyone else had fallen asleep. We went far enough away so our furtive sounds wouldn’t wake anyone in the group. It was tender and longing in a way I’d never felt before. The passion of our intertwining rigid and soft at the same time. Jane wept when it was through, and I held her, knowing the exaltation that gripped her because it did me as well. It was a rejoining that might have never occurred, and held the power of frantic love that wished never to be separated again.

  The bone field was empty when we trudged through, the house silent and still. The trepidation at seeing the path clear of Ellius’s roots that had blocked it vanished when we strode from the other side unharmed. I realized then that Ellius’s death had done something, if only temporary, to the land. It was as if everything evil had fled from the expended power in fear or wonder, and I was thankful for the lack of hindrances. I mentioned my theory to Fellow, and he nodded.

  “They’ll come back, they always do,” he said, and I knew he was right.

  When we reached the Field of Lies, it was quiet. Its foggy interior still held the ominous presence, but nothing approached us. Ignoring Jane’s proclamations that she could help, I carried both the kids until we reached the other side.

  A warm buzzing grew in the base of my stomach as we came into view of the clearing in the hollow. It felt like years had passed since the day we left, and the concern that hung in the back of my mind vanished the moment I spied the decrepit roller coaster.

  “Cool!” Jack exclaimed, and ran ahead, with Sara a few paces behind. They stopped a short distance from the ride and looked back over their shoulders.

  Their spirits were resilient, and I knew then that they would recover faster than Jane or I ever would, at least on the surface. The realm had left a mark on all of us, and I worried that at some time in the future Jack or Sara would begin to show how it had affected them. Would they have nightmares? I was sure of it. Would they have unconscious fears spring like well water from time to time? I guessed they might. Would they survive and live the lives I hoped they would? I had to believe it.

  “This is it, huh?” Jane asked, lacing her fingers in mine.

  “Yeah, this is how I got here. I think it was less frightening than how you came.”

  She squeezed my hand. “We’re going home, Michael.”

  “I know.”

  We stopped a few feet behind the kids, and I turned to Fellow and Scrim. Scrim sat serenely on Fellow’s shoulder, his now-dark eyes half lidded. I stepped up to them and put out a hand. Scrim bowed and nibbled at my fingers, and I brushed his head.

  “Thank you. You helped save us all,” I said. Scrim squawked once, affectionately pinched my fingers with his beak, and looked away.

  “Michael,” Fellow said. His face was soft but brightened by the small smile that graced it.

  “My friend,” I said, stepping close to hug him. He returned the embrace with his remaining arm around my back.

  “Take good care of your family, and may we never meet again.”

  I held him at arm’s length and blinked back the moisture gathering in my eyes. “I’ll see you again someday, in some other place far from here. He’ll be waiting for us.”

  Fellow smiled and nodded. “Yes, he will.”

  I turned away before I broke down completely, and gathered up Jane’s hand again. “Are you ready, kids?” I asked.

  “Yeah!” they exclaimed in unison, and climbed into one of the dilapidated seats. Dust swirled into the afternoon air as they settled, and I pulled the bar down over their laps.

  “Keep your hands inside the car at all times.” They both giggled, music to my ears. “After you, honey,” I said, gesturing to the car behind Sara and Jack. Jane stepped past me, holding my hand as she climbed in.

  The moment she sat down, the air tightened around us. It was a subtle shift, like a summer day turning humid before a storm. Ahead of the coaster the tracks began to shine through the overgrown grass, and then the dirt that covered them sifted away in two furrows. The hill the tracks led into first vibrated, then shimmered as the dead grass and leaves twisted, becoming insubstantial. The hill’s center faded, and darkness ate at its middle as the tunnel opened. The cars trembled and quaked like a jet engine powering up. I threw a last look over my shoulder at Fellow and Scrim before climbing aboard to take my seat beside my wife.

  Everything stopped.

  The hill became solid, and the cars halted their movement. Confused, I stood and gazed past the lead car, seeing grass and lea
ves covering the tracks as before. It seemed that everything had reverted to its former state. I scrunched up my brow and turned to Fellow.

  “What’s going—” I stopped in mid-sentence.

  Fellow was crestfallen, and his mouth hung open a little. He stared at the coaster, as if it were saying something to him that only he could hear. His jaw slowly closed, and he looked up at me, his gaze sending a spike of panic through my guts.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Michael, I’m sorry,” he began and stepped closer.

  “What’s wrong?” Jane asked.

  Fellow said something so quiet I couldn’t hear it.

  My voice rose in volume from anger and helplessness, but I didn’t attempt to control it. “What did you say?” I asked, hoping that I hadn’t heard him right.

  “Only blood can take blood out,” he said loud enough for me to hear.

  The words buffeted my mind like bombs, spraying the poisonous gas of their meaning and enveloping my senses. My jaw trembled, my grip sliding loose as I sat down, unable to hold myself up.

  Jane grabbed my shoulder, pulled me so that I faced her. “What? What does he mean?” Her face was as panicked as I felt.

  I shook my head, not at her but at what Fellow said. I turned to him and saw the same forlorn look that I knew graced my own features.

  “But how did you and ...” I said.

  “His power,” Fellow said. “I didn’t know what he was then. His power allowed us to travel together.”

  “Dad, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Sara asked. She and Jack shifted in their seats so that just their eyes peeked over the back of their car.

  I swallowed, and felt my soul tear just a little. “I’m okay,” I managed, and looked at Fellow again. “Is there any other way?”

  He paused, searching the ground as though the answer lay at his feet. “Besides a vent, nothing that I know of. And they are constantly moving.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jane said.

  “I can’t come back with you,” I said.

  “What? What do you mean, Michael?”

  I turned and fully looked her in the eyes. “It won’t take you guys back with me onboard. Only blood can take blood back, and since we’re not related, it won’t move.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, that’s not right. You are coming home with us. We’re not leaving without you.”

  “You have to,” I said, even though every fiber of my being resisted. “You have to go and take the kids home.”

  “No, we’ll stay here if you can’t go. We’ll stay here and live together.”

  I reached out and put my hand on her cheek. “They can’t stay here, and you know it. I won’t risk you all living here. The danger is too much. We were lucky this time, this one time. I won’t endanger you or them. That’s not what I came here for.”

  Jane made as if to slap my hand away from her face, but instead she grasped it and squeezed, tears spilling from her eyes. Her head tilted, and I knew that she understood. I felt something crumple inside of me, and I leaned close to her, our foreheads touching. The air from her mouth and nose brushed my face. Memories of us sleeping almost the same way came to me—our bed warm around us, breathing each other’s air, so close we felt conjoined. Without the other, a raw wound would open, an amputation would occur.

  “I love you so much. Remember us. I’ll look for a way to come through. I won’t stop searching until I find it.”

  My breath shuddered, and my vision swam with tears. I felt her hand on my neck, pulling me forward. I kissed my wife for the last time. I poured every ounce of love I had for her into the meeting of our lips, and she did the same.

  Our kiss ended after what seemed like an eternity and a heartbeat, and we pulled away. I stood and stepped down from the car, but kept my hand on its side. The coaster remained motionless as I walked to where my children sat. Their eyes stared up at me, searching my face for the reassurance they expected and needed. I smiled and wiped my eyes.

  “Daddy, why are you crying?” Jack asked.

  “Because I can’t go with you guys on this trip, I have to wait for the next one.”

  Sara sat bolt upright, and I knew she was old enough to see through my subterfuge. “No, Dad. You have to come with us. This place is creepy.”

  An upsurge of grief rolled over me and I tried to keep my voice steady. “I know, and I want to come, but I have to wait just a little longer. The ride won’t move while I’m on it. I must be too heavy.” Jack’s brow crinkled, but the joke made him smile just a little. Sara didn’t falter.

  “No, Dad, you have to get in. Try again, it’ll move, I promise.” She began to cry, and I reached out to wipe the tears away.

  “I want you both to know I love you very much. You’re the best things to ever happen to me. I’m so proud of how brave you are.” I steeled myself and called upon the cold place inside me that every person possesses for the moment they need it. “I want you to look after your mom for me for a while, just until I get back, okay?” Their heads nodded, and I opened my right arm wide to accommodate them both as they crowded against me. Their warm bodies and tears soaked into me. I savored the moment, committed it to memory, and cried into their soft hair. When I pried my arm away from them, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.

  I let go.

  The coaster came to life at once. The tracks shrugged themselves from the soil, and a humming filled the air. My throat was all but closed and refused any more words, so I just put up one hand and waved to them. Jane leaned toward me, and after a moment so did the kids. My legs moved of their own volition, and then I was holding their hands, Jane’s in my left and both Sara’s and Jack’s in my right.

  The coaster began to move. I walked with it as it picked up speed. Smells came to me: fried food, cotton candy, the heavy scent of animals. They drifted from the mouth of the tunnel—the fair was running on the other side. I could hear the sounds of laughter and delighted yells, the clacking of rides as they spun around and around. Our world, our home, waited for them.

  “I love you,” Jane said.

  “I love you all,” I said, and ran with the cars, keeping their pace until the ground rose up and there was no more room. Our fingers slid away from one another, Jane crying, Sara holding Jack, and Jack waving.

  Then they were gone.

  Chapter 12

  Waiting

  I waited. The hope that the coaster would return and that there would be some way for me to leave kept me at the clearing for days. It was a slim hope, but it was all I had. Fellow and Scrim waited with me. I urged Fellow to return home to his wife, but he insisted on staying, even when something so large passed by it shook the ground and tall trees were mashed to splinters beneath its heels.

  When I didn’t sleep, I thought of my family, and when I slept, I dreamed of them. I selected memories that were pure and full of light, with no thoughts of despair or sadness tainting their colors. I didn’t think about the days after their return home. I couldn’t bear to think of them in our house without me, mourning my absence while I yearned only for their presence.

  We left the little clearing upon waking one morning. I’d taken to calling these times mornings, but it was all relative. Time became insubstantial and surreal again, an endless loop that was always the same with the rotating of the sun. We made our way along a trail that led through the thickest part of the forest surrounding the tracks. Fellow walked assuredly, his footsteps falling on ground he’d no doubt known all his life. As we traveled I could feel his excitement growing, and I’m ashamed to say I hated him a little for it. He was going home to his family in his own world, no matter how threatening or dangerous it might be. When we stopped to rest, I wondered if I’d made a mistake by not agreeing to what Jane suggested. I imagined our life in this evil place, and knew I’d made the right decision. Anything else would have been deluding concepts clouded by selfish reasoning.

  The next day we reached Fellow’s home. Th
e forest around us became more dense and then abruptly opened into a wide swath of field. A modest home built of massive logs sat at its center, its thatched roof surrounding a stone chimney that sent up tendrils of smoke into the cool air. Fellow’s wife met us at the doorway. She much resembled Fellow, as I predicted she might. The same stalks and wood lined her arms while her face was fair and smooth. Flowing vines the color of wet sand grew from her head and rolled down her back in waves. Fellow ran to her, and she threw herself into his chest. Scrim sat on my shoulder and covered his head with one wing when the couple kissed. After they’d celebrated their reunion, Fellow introduced me. His wife’s name was Adrin, and although she welcomed me into their home, I could tell she harbored some resentment toward me for taking Fellow along on a quest that had almost stolen his life. Fellow’s arm had healed and was already sprouting growth a few inches long. He assured me that it would grow back and be as good as new, even as Adrin scowled at me from the corner of the room.

  We departed from the house the following day and threaded our way along another trail in the woods, this one twice the size of the one that brought us to the field. We headed in the direction of a mountain that I’d glimpsed in the distance the day before. It rose out of the ground in a formation of stone that towered above the forest and disappeared into the gray clouds that obscured its peak. I tried to guess at its size, but was dumbfounded as we neared its base, for it dwarfed any comparison I could bring to mind.

  We arrived at a stone house late in the day, the shadow of the mountain covering us in a thick blanket of gloom. The house was made from bulky slabs of rock propped end to end, and covered with an overhang that had been hewed from the mountainside itself. A figure sat on the steps watching our approach, and when it stood and came to meet us, I had to stare for quite some time before my heart calmed.