by Steven Fox
Next to the filled guestbook were several articles from the Sheriffsburg and East Clintwood newspapers. Several of them described who Tara was and her achievements in school. They also showcased a few snippets of writing gathered by her high school teachers. It was her obituary that snared Jason’s undivided attention:
ON JUNE 17, SHERIFFSBURG JUNIOR TARA ENGEL COMMITTED SUICIDE. SHE WAS FOUND DEAD THE NEXT DAY BY A PASSERBY WHO NOTED THAT, AT A CONSTRUCTION SITE, HE NOTICED WHAT LOOKED LIKE A GIANT DUMMY STICKING OUT FROM THE GROUND. BEING A MEMBER OF THE SCHOOL BOARD, HE WAS AWARE A CPR DUMMY HAD GONE MISSING EARLIER THAT WEEK. INSTEAD OF FINDING A DUMMY, HE FOUND ENGEL, DEAD, HER THROAT AND LUNGS FILLED WITH CONCRETE.
SHE DROWNED HERSELF IN CONCRETE. PERHAPS THE STRANGEST, AND MOST PAINFUL WAY TO GO. OUR HEARTS HERE AT THE DAILY REPUBLIC GO OUT TO MS. ENGEL’S FAMILY.
Stop. Stop. STOP.
“You have to face it,” said his mother. “It’s all part of the feeling.”
He shook his head, even though he couldn’t move it. The stone had set in his neck, and quickly closed in on his heart and lungs. Soon, he’d be dead. Buried in the same liquid stone Tara had tossed herself into.
“You aren’t going to die. At least, not without seeing what truly happened.”
Jason blinked and there he was again, lungs and body clear of the stone. Tara was on his shoulders, bending over. He felt her moist breath on his earlobe.
“I was born with both parts.”
“Both parts?”
“Boy and girl parts.”
And as the pressure climaxed against the back of Jason’s head, a vision flashed before his eyes. A pair of lips appeared before him. The lips parted in a wide smile. Perfect teeth rimmed with green flesh glimmered at him.
A mouth with green flesh.
The nightmare’s mouth.
“no!”
Like a pulse, the vision cut out.
“it’s not fair even in death i can’t have justice!”
Another pulse, and the Sheriffsburg crowd and street cut away. Everything rushed by him, as though he were being propelled forward. He heard a wet pop, and he landed on something solid, his shoulders crackling with the impact. Something hit the ground next to his head. He looked up and saw the key, the one Len had given him. Beyond it lay the five-way fork; he’d never left. Jason looked above him. His eyes widened. There, with her hood down, stood Shades, better known as Tara Engel. Her face was just as he remembered it, except grayer. Dead.
“it’s not fair not fair!
“why is it you always wiggle your way out of things?
“you never even felt a bit of regret as you tossed me off your shoulders!
“you just kept on living!
“and then you met that Indian girl!
“and Darlene…how could she be your friend how could you have friends?”
Her eyes, while still red, didn’t glow with the fury they held before. They seemed watery, better resembling ketchup than blood. Her nostrils flared with each breath. Jason had never seen her this angry, this hurt. Except on that day when the nightmare made him buck Tara from his shoulders. His eyes flicked to the key, and he grabbed it. Tara didn’t seem to see this.
“why?
“why can’t i have justice?
“why can’t i have what i want?”
He pursed his lips, clenching the key in his hand. “I wanted to kill myself. I didn’t want to live anymore.” Tara’s eyes narrowed on Jason’s face, as though seeing it for the first time. She didn’t say anything, so he stood, gripping the key to his chest.
“A hole opened up. And it wanted to swallow me alive. I nearly let it. More times than I can count. But I thought to myself: ‘Maybe Tara wants me to live. Wouldn’t that be what she wants?’” He shook his head, looking up at Tara with a lop-sided grin. “But look at what I did to you. How could you rest in peace after committing suicide? A suicide I caused.”
“you’re right you did cause it traitor bastard son of a—”
“But listen, Tara. It’s a problem I inherited. That doesn’t excuse it. But it makes it harder to deal with.”
She eyed him warily, her nostrils still flared. Even though she was dead and angry, Jason still found her beautiful. The most beautiful. Everything he ever wanted.
But his want and desire were the problem.
“Please. Allow me to do something for you, Tara.” He held out his hand and uncurled his fingers. The key sat in his palm. Tara stared down at it, then flicked her eyes back up to him.
“what about it?”
He tilted his head in the direction of the final fork—the bridge. “We both know what’s at the end of the bridge. I’m going there, but I need something first. I think you have it.”
“so?”
“I’m asking you to let me have it.”
“i will give you nothing.”
Jason crossed his arms. “You just wanna take, take, take, don’cha? But Tara, it’ll help both of us if you do. You want that.”
“how do you know what i want?”
Jason lowered his face, staring at his feet. A moment passed as he mustered the thought. It was hard. He didn’t have everything intact yet. He’d spent the entire night trying to sew everything back together. Thanks to Trevor and the story. The one he and Tara had written together.
“To love yourself, ‘tis the most important thing.”
Tara’s face slackened, and Jason thought, instead of red, her eyes flashed the hazel they had been when she was alive. The moment passed and her face hardened, her eyes changing back to red. Though she didn’t look quite as intense.
Tara pulled back her shadowy cloak, and out flew the sniffling orb of light. It snorted at Jason, fluttering about his head. He held out his empty hand, and the orb landed there, snorting and sniffling happily. Jason smiled down at it. He felt warm, and discovered it wasn’t coming from him or Tara or the orb: The key in his right hand was glowing. No longer did it look old and rusty, but as though it had just been forged and shined. Jason held it up to his face, scrutinizing it. His eyes flicked back to the orb of light, and noticed that a keyhole had appeared on the orb’s face. Jason gripped the key, and gently inserted it into the orb. He turned the key, and as he did, the words from Len’s letter reverberated inside his head—it will let you inside.
The orb exploded, light piercing the dark corridor of Shemillah’s stomach. The fleshy walls trembled, and the floor quivered beneath them. The cries reached a climax, then cut off. All was silent as the light faded. He looked over to Tara, and froze.
Her flesh was pink and healthy. Her eyes were hazel and the shadows hanging from her arms melted away. In their place, armor appeared. On her face Tara now wore a mask that covered only her nose. She stared down at it, fingering the snout-like mask. She glanced down at the armor, and the questions rose in her eyes. She looked back up to Jason, and went erect.
“Jason?” she said. “King Lukoje?”
Jason nodded, grimacing. “Do you remember?”
Tara nodded. “I remember…I’m S.”
“Yes. But I think Tara’s a better name. Very pretty.”
She grunted. “You said that already…when we first started dating.” Her eyes widened, and she fingered her mouth. “Pickle. Catfish. Sushi! My voice…it’s returned to normal.”
“And it sounds wonderful. Like music.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “You and your clichés.”
“Chock full of ‘em.”
And for the first time in nearly a year, Jason and Tara laughed together. It filled the pit with sweet echoes, washing them in their own childish musings. After they quieted down, they locked eyes. Then looked away, as though they’d just met. Tara examined her new duds and body. She raised an arm and pinched it.
“Am I…alive again?”
Jason hesitated, then shook his head. “Tara died. At least, the one I knew did. You…you’re something else. You are but you aren’t. Kind of like me. I am Lukoje, but I’m not.”
“It means we have unfinished business.”
“What’ll happen to us?”
“We’ll pay for our mistakes, Tara.” He looked toward the bridge. “The only way for that to happen is if you follow me. I suggest we hurry. Shemillah will swallow the whole world if we let her.”
Tara heaved a sigh. “Jason, I remember things and—”
“I know it wasn’t suicide. At least, not originally.”
“Huh? You do?”
Jason crossed his arms. “Why would Sirin have the orb of light, your very essence, inside him? I knew I never liked him, I just had no idea why. He’s also very good at tearing people down.”
Tara’s hands fell to her sides and she nodded. She found an umbrella sword at her waist, raised the blade, and looked at it. She swung it a bit, as though she’d been born with it in her hand. Then she held it steady, her eyes drifting up and down the blade. It was silver with purple veins running along the length.
“This is the dream sword,” said Tara. “The one…Lukoje sealed Shemillah in.”
Jason shook his head. “No, it’s better—it’s the sword of life, created solely for one purpose. And with a little extra help, we’ll be able to finally defeat the nightmare.”
***
The bridge led them to another plateau. A throne larger than the other three combined was carved into a fleshy wall. Sitting upon the throne, Gelen smiled up at Jason and Tara, then stood and embraced Jason, squeezing him. She kissed his cheeks as Tara looked on, arms crossed over her chest. Gelen showered him with loving words: “How I missed you! My King, oh my handsome King Lukoje! I knew it was you all this time. And now you have come for me, like I knew you would! How can I ever repay you?”
“Please stop crushing my ribcage?”
The Queen laughed, flipping her hair. “How you jest! You know pain holds no meaning for you. Even with this new body of yours, you would heal within moments. Even if I broke your spine.”
He pursed his lips. Now he knew how he’d survived falling down two flights of stairs and everything else. But that didn’t matter right now. His eyes drifted back to Tara. Gelen noticed his eyes and followed his gaze. Her nose wrinkled.
“S. How nice of you to return. Tell me, do you enjoy causing your Queen pain? And our King! How could you let our King suffer?”
Tara’s face hardened, her jaw clenched. “I did so only under the Dream Caller’s influence, milady.” Her eyes widened, and she shot Jason a look that said, “Did those words come out of my mouth?”
“Does it matter? Whether it was the king’s command or the devil’s himself, your first and foremost duty is to protect him. Your terribleness reflects on me. Or did you forget that we are one?”
Tara’s arms fell slowly to her sides. Her mouth opened, but only a squeak emerged. She clamped a hand over her lips.
“What was that?” said the Queen. “Speak up. I want to hear your excuse.”
“Gelen,” said Jason.
“My King, let me handle this. You have suffered enough.” And her eyes bored into Tara, all brightness in her smile turning black and deadly like a mamba’s venom. “So, S. How do you explain yourself?”
Tara’s fingers curled and uncurled. Sweat beaded on her brow and rolled down her cheeks. Her gaze met Jason’s, and he gave her a smile. She nodded once, then turned back to the Queen. She took a deep breath, and muttered something.
“Hm?” said the Queen. “Come again; methinks I heard you not.”
This time, Tara nearly shouted, “I’m part of no one but myself.”
A wide smile cracked Jason’s face. But Gelen’s lips seemed to shrivel up, as though she’d just stuck a lemon in her mouth. Her nostrils flared.
“Oh, you think so? All right. Let us see…Your name is S. Which stands for Sniff…Which means you are my sense of smell. You are mine, S. No one else’s. Not even yourself. And through me you belong to King Lukoje. For I belong to him.”
“No, you don’t.”
Both Tara and Gelen turned to Jason. Gelen’s face went slack, her eyes narrowed at Jason. But he didn’t wince or even back away. He stood there, shoulders back. He heaved a sigh through his nose. The Queen managed a small smile.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“I didn’t stutter.”
She swallowed hard. “You mumbled.”
“No. I said it loud and clear, Gelen. You. Don’t. Be. Long. To. Me.”
Before he knew what was happening, Gelen was on her knees, grabbing at his hand. She stared up at him with wide, blurry eyes. She huffed a string of unintelligible pleas. To Jason, it sounded like the words he’d spewed after Tara’s death. The tremendous loss. His inability to comprehend. But Gelen constructed a single intelligible sentence: “What did I do?”
Jason folded one of her hands between two of his. “Nothing. And that’s the problem. You’ve done nothing for yourself. And I realize that’s my fault, Gelen. Do you realize who you are?” When she didn’t respond, Jason continued, “Lukoje’s memories slowly became mine. After all, I’m not really Lukoje. He’s dead. But his soul was within me, and it merged with me. Then I remembered the Guardian’s daughter…Shemillah. She was my first love.
“She is you. And you are her. Both you and Tara. But at the same time, you aren’t Shemillah. You aren’t mine any more than Tara is part of you.”
“My King, don’t forsake me!”
“I’m not forsaking you, Queen Gelen. I’m forsaking Lukoje’s crown.”
The words seemed to circle Gelen’s head before sinking into her ears, into the sound preceptors in her brain. She gripped Jason’s wrist, nearly pulling him down on top of her. But he didn’t budge. He wore a smile so gentle and kind it was unfair. There was pain in Gelen’s eyes and confusion in her slightly-parted lips.
“You can’t,” said Gelen. “You’re the king of Visonia. The kingdom needs you.”
“No. The kingdom doesn’t need me. I’m just a kid. Storytelling is my purpose. Lukoje made me realize this. When the nightmare came, Lukoje let it infect him. He wanted so bad to get rid of it, so he found the Guardian. He gave him the nightmare. And then his child…Shemillah took all of it because she wanted to show how much she loved him. In a way, she did it for me.
“Lukoje tore part of her soul from the corrupted body and turned her into you, Gelen. Then you created your guard. S became Tara, after I tried to seal Shemillah. Of course, her body wasn’t…like it was in Visonia. After all, weird things happen to dreams that cross over freely. Even if they happen to find their way into a natural, Caindom woman’s womb.
“It’s time responsibility was taken for Lukoje’s actions. No more hiding in Visonia. Others shouldn’t have to bear his burden.”
“But I will! I will bear all the burden!” Gelen rubbed her cheek against Jason’s hands. “Please, my King. Let me be useful. Let me be what you need. What you have always wanted.”
Jason kneeled and wrapped his arms around Gelen. He hugged her to him and then helped her to her feet.
“You aren’t my toy. Lukoje created you, sure, but I’m not Lukoje. Not really. You should be doing what you want to do.” He gestured to Tara. “I love Tara because she always kept me on my toes. She never did anything I wanted her to. But she completes me. We’re independent, but united.”
“I am independent! I governed Visonia and kept watch over the city!”
“For Lukoje. And you always waited for him because you thought that’s what he’d want. I want you to move on. Live your own life.”
Jason backed away from Gelen’s outstretched hands. She tripped and fell, landing flat on her face. Jason moved to help her up, but Tara stepped forward and kneeled next to the Queen. His eyes flicked to where Tara had been standing. He could barely see the metal of Tara’s nose-mask strewn on the ground.
Gelen shrugged off Tara’s hands. “Stop being stubborn,” said Tara. “I’m only trying to help.”
�
�You have turned my King against me. Against us.”
“No. He’s not against you or me. Didn’t you hear him?”
“Yes. He said he loves Tara.”
“That’s me.”
“No. You are S. Merely a guard.” The Queen reached her knees. Then she hammered a fist into the ground. “A guard…loved less than a mere guard. How I’ve been cheated upon! After all my loyalty. All my devotion. I have been everything my King has ever wanted. I have loved him so much.”
Tara gripped Gelen about the shoulders, and turned her so the Queen could only look her in the eyes. “You’ve got it all wrong. You should’ve been doing those things because you wanted to. Not because you thought Lukoje would love you more. God. If you just love him because that’s how you feel, then maybe he would love you back. Maybe even more.”
The Queen jerked out of Tara’s grip. She hyperventilated. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. “But…but isn’t the point of life to love and please others? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”
For a moment, only silence met her question. She looked up to Tara, whose lips were pressed into a hard line. Her gaze flashed to Jason. Her bottom lip quivered. She dug her fingers into the fleshy ground. Tears streamed down her face.
“Is it not? Is love not important?”
“It is important,” said Jason. “But only if you love yourself, first. Especially your dreams. You have to love and respect your dreams, Gelen. Without them, you’re only a shell.”
She stared up at Jason, her chest heaving and collapsing. He thought she might burst into more tears, but her breathing eventually slowed. Her eyes stopped leaking, and her face smoothened out. She gulped, shook her head, and barked a laugh.
“I suppose I am not worthy of life.”
“Don’t say that,” said Jason, weakly.
“I am not independent. I have lived my whole life under your—under Lukoje’s control. To try anything different now would drive me insane. As sad as it is, I am not at all upset.”
Jason stepped forward. “You should be. You should be upset. You should want to be independent.”
“But I do not. I do not know what I want. I have only known how to be what you desire. I have put little thought into anything else.” She looked up to Tara. “And you—part of me, yet not anymore. How you have changed! You were always the odd guard. I should not be surprised Lukoje favors you.”