by C. M. Fenn
The pressure builds and I’m having a hard time getting air into my lungs. If this continues much longer, I’ll be squished flat. And what happens if I do make it through the barrier? There will be nothing to catch my fall but the street below me. I’m sure I can survive a drop this high but not without some scrapes and bruises.
I’m in pain now. Everything hurts. I swear I can feel my ribs cracking inside me. Right when I’m certain I can’t take another second of this excruciating pain, something beneath me breaks. I’m through! Only the rushing wind behind me doesn’t let up and I find myself being hurled with extreme force onto the pavement of the street below. I barely manage to get my hands in front of me to break my fall before I slam into the ground.
Pain.
Searing, red-hot pain. Sharp as a knife and as REAL as it comes. I can’t breathe. The wind must have been knocked out of me. My lungs ache for oxygen as I gasp for air, and I try to stave off the panic that feeling brings. I force myself to relax and settle for the short breaths I’m able to take now.
As I lie in the street waiting for my lungs to regain their functionality, I take note of other painful areas. My head hurts and I’m dizzy. My hands and knees sting. I can tell without looking that my palms are shredded and bleeding. They must have taken the brunt of the impact. Given everything, I think I’ve survived surprisingly well.
My left cheek is resting on the warm road, so I’m able to feel it when the first vibrations start—soft little vibrations, almost soothing, like someone tapping their fingers on a table. Over and over.
My lungs have loosened up so I try for a deeper breath. As I breathe in, a sharp pain shoots through the left side of my rib cage. Something’s broken there.
The scent of tar fills my nostrils. I slowly lift my face off the pavement as far as I comfortably can and feel blood trickle down my cheek and neck. The skin on that side of my face burns when a light breeze touches it.I’m lying directly in the middle of the road. My feet face a driveway and my head faces another one across the street. I consider calling out for help, but this neighborhood looks completely deserted. I don’t see a single soul. I don’t hear anything—nearby or in the distance. No hum from car engines, no dogs barking. Nothing except for dead leaves scraping crisply down the street in the breeze.
It takes me a second to realize that the scene around me is no longer devoid of color. Instead it looks as though the color had been washed out of the surroundings. Where the trees and grass should be a brilliant green, it’s pale green instead. A faded maroon Volkswagen is parked to the left of the driveway behind me, though it otherwise looks brand new. The house in front of me is pale tan. Even the sky is a weak pastel blue.
I try to sit up using only the sides of my hands, but my arms quiver and balk when I try to support the weight of my upper body on them. I decide to rest another minute and then try again. I lay my face back down on the street and concentrate on breathing. I can feel the vibrations again. They’re stronger than before and I wonder what’s causing them. It suggests there’s someone in this place other than myself. I feel the rhythmic beating through my chest as the vibrations get stronger. Bits of gravel in the street in front of my eyes begin to tremble in time with the vibrations. Soon they are shaking and dancing around.
Something in the distance, beyond the dancing gravel bits, catches my eye. There! At the end of the street is movement. I pick my head up and squint in that direction. Whatever it is, it’s big, and it’s moving this way fast.
The vibrations intensify to a steady thump-thump, thump-thump. It reminds me of the cadence of galloping horses, but the thing at the end of the street doesn’t resemble a horse in any way. Its shape is vaguely human, only it’s at least ten feet tall—far too tall to be any person I’ve ever seen. Its legs and arms are impossibly long and it glides too smoothly—almost fluidly—to be human. As it gets closer, it looks as if it’s wearing a helmet on its stretched out head and are those … rollerblades on its feet? That would explain the way it moves as well as its speed.
The pounding is so strong now that I begin to shake on the street the way the gravel had only seconds before. Most importantly though, it’s so strong and loud that I realize the rhythm doesn’t match the gait of the stretchy figure heading my way. If this impossible rollerblading creature isn’t responsible for shaking the earth, what is?
I continue to watch Stretch-thing approach and it seems to be gesturing frantically at me. I can’t figure out what it’s trying to say, but I watch in fascination as it puts its head down and pounds the pavement harder to speed up.
Just then, an unbelievably loud roar comes from the other direction. The hairs on my arms lift as I turn my head around to see where it’s coming from.
At the other end of the street, running toward me full tilt, is an incredibly large, unrecognizable beast. It looks like the offspring of a rhinoceros and a bear. It’s as big as a semi-truck and pitch black—a black darker than the deepest shadows on the darkest night. Looking at it makes my flesh crawl and the word abomination screams through my mind.
The beast is closing in fast. It grunts and growls as it pushes down the street, shouldering entire cars off the road and into the houses. I think it wants nothing more than to trample the life out of me.
I whip my head around as I start to get up to run, my previous pains forgotten in my desperation to survive. The stretchy creature has nearly reached me and yells something but I can’t make it out. It motions with its too-long arms for me to lie back down. Frantically I turn my head back and forth, trying to see who will reach me first. I pray it isn’t the beast. As they are both nearly on me, the beast leaps up in the air bellowing victory. In mere seconds, it will crash down on me.
“GET DOWN!” I hear as I turn toward the elongated thing. It dives and forcefully crashes into me. We tumble on the pavement, rolling out from under the dark monster. We roll maybe five or six times and the Stretch-thing maneuvers all the while, taking the brunt of each impact. We are up just as fast and I’m in its arms and it’s carrying me as it glides down the street and away from the beast at breakneck speed.
Clinging desperately to my rescuer, I glance over its shoulder. Through wisps of the creature’s blonde hair whipping around behind us I see the monster skid to a stop as it realizes it’s missed its target. It ricochets off the side of a house and U-turns in our direction. I’m in awe of its agility.
“Hang in there, mate! We’re nearly there!” This thing was talking to me! It was trying to reassure me! It sounded female and oddly enough, Australian? Whatever it is, I am grateful it saved me. I only hope it’s as benign as it seems. I hold on as tightly as I can.
I’m amazed at how easily this being can carry me and still move so swiftly. The houses and cars around us are a blur. I look ahead and see the street ends at a big white house. Behind us, the monster is gaining and will reach us in a matter of seconds. As we get closer to the house at the end of the street, she doesn’t seem to be slowing at all. She’s going to crash right into the garage door!
I bury my face in her neck and wait for the impact—the impact that doesn’t come. She stops moving. Is she crazy? The beast is right behind us! I look up and am shocked to see we’re inside a huge garage-like room, but this garage is way bigger than the one we almost crashed into should have been.
What just happened?
I look up into the face of the stretchy girl. She’s panting slightly but grinning down at me. As I watch her, she slowly begins to shrink. She sets me down gently on the concrete floor and steadies me so I don’t collapse. All the while, she continues to get smaller and smaller.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Could’ve gone a lot worse really. It was lucky for you, being dropped so close to a Calm, wasn’t it?”
She is now a perfectly proportioned girl about my age and height. She sees me glance nervously at the garage door and says, “Oh, no worries, mate, she’ll be apples. Nothing can get in here but us Realmwalkers. I’m Melissa by the
way. Mel if ya like.” She tips an imaginary hat. “And let me be the first to say, welcome to Chaos.”
Chapter 4
I stare wide-eyed, mouth agape, at a perfectly normal-looking, five-foot-five-inch, tan girl with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her grin falters slightly as I continue to stare blankly at her.
“Ahh, are you all right there? Did you knock your noggin a bit too hard?” She examines me critically while walking a slow circle around me. When she makes it back in front of me, she smiles encouragingly and says, “Nothing too serious that I can see. You did well out there.”
I’m still trying to formulate some kind of intelligent response when I hear an electronic chirp and then a man’s gruff voice that sounds like it’s coming through a radio.
“Mel, give me a status report.”
I notice Mel’s wearing something that looks like a Bluetooth device in her ear. She presses the outside of the small black unit and says, “Mel here. I got her. We’re in Minor Calm now. Just arrived.”
As she sits down on a stool nearby and starts to take off her rollerblades and safety gear, I gaze around the garage. It’s so large I could drive “Old Blue” in figure eights in here without hitting any walls. Power tools sit on a few workbenches. On the shelves lining the walls are all sorts of knickknacks and doo-dads that you would expect to find in a well-equipped garage.
A couple strange vehicles are parked nearby. They look like huge motorcycles, only wider and much longer. They have broad tires and large, shiny exhaust pipes on each side. There are buttons and strange gadgets all over the handlebars. Each is a different, vivid color and they sport unique designs on them. The one closest to me is black and adorned with bright blue waves. On the rim over the rear wheel, in decorative blue writing, is the word “Crank.”
The man’s voice coming through Mel’s earpiece says, “Good work. Are there any injuries?”
“Nothing too serious. There was only one brute out there, but we gave him the flick. She may have sustained a small concussion. I’m taking her upstairs now to get looked at.” Mel says as she stands and offers me her hand.
I look down at my palms and am almost sick at the sight of them. They’re torn up worse than I had thought. The blood has begun to dry, but every time I move my hands the wounds split and reopen. They hurt.
Mel slaps her forehead. Instead of grabbing my hand, she puts an arm around my back and a hand under my elbow closest to her. As she guides me to a nearby stairway leading up, the man’s voice comes through again. “Make sure you get her information right away so we can make contact top-side.”
“Sure thing, Boss. It’ll be up in the system here in no time.”
We get to the base of the stairs and I hesitate. If my knees are as bad as my hands, this is going to be hell.
“Easy does it now,” she says in a kind voice. “Take your time. If it’s too much, I can carry you.”
I’m determined not to be carried.
I take a deep a breath, grit my teeth, and take the first step. I inhale sharply and wince as the cuts on my knees reopen and fresh blood flows again. I’m shaking from the pain. I’m still weak, so I lean on Mel for stability. She’s solid as a rock and must be incredibly strong.
“I know you’re frightened and confused. Maybe if we chat it will take your mind off the pain. So what’s your name?” Mel asks gently.
“Adelaide.” It’s all I can manage right now.
“You sound American.”
I nod my head in confirmation.
“Thought so. Angel said you would be. She guessed Southwestern too. Is that right?”
I nod.
“That’s wonderful. We have two other Americans here. You look about my age. Are you eighteen?”
“Seventeen.” I pause for breath. We are almost halfway up the stairs. “How are we alive?”
She chuckles and shakes her head, “Oh, one little Lesser Shade is nothing to fret about.”
Little! I would hate to come across a large Lesser Shade, whatever that is.
“Why didn’t it …” I stop climbing and breathe. My ribs are really killing me. “… smash through the … garage door?”
“Shades can’t enter the Calms, not as long as the wards are up anyway.” She looks at me sideways and sees my puzzled expression. “Don’t worry love, you’ll understand soon.”
I start climbing again and take a break at the top. I look around and see a large, fully furnished, comfortable-looking living room. On one of the oversized sofas, lies a boy who looks about fifteen. He has light brown skin and neat dark hair. He has earphones in his ears and his eyes are closed. He’s tapping his foot and waving his hands in the air like he’s holding a baton and directing a symphony.
“CRANK!” Mel shouts at the top of her lungs.
“Ay-eee!” Crank squeals and almost falls off the couch. He spouts off a rapid stream of something that sounds like angry Spanish. He stops short, however, when he sees me. With a look of surprised excitement, he jumps off the couch and rushes over. Now that he’s up I can see he’s very thin and very short.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I didn’t even hear the alarm. Did she just get here? Oh, is she hurt?” He turns to me. “Are you all right? I’m Oscar Torres by the way. Everyone calls me Crank, though, but not because I’m cranky. I’m delighted to meet you. What’s your name?” His accent is so strong and he’s speaking so fast that I can hardly understand him. He’s bouncing up and down where he stands and looks like he’s about to burst with excitement.
Mel puts a hand up and he stops immediately. “Crank, help me get her to the couch. She’s hurting.”
“Of course, of course. Right over here.” He takes my other elbow and together they get me to the sofa. I sit down slowly as Crank grabs a throw pillow and places it on the big mahogany coffee table in front of me. He gently picks up my feet and props them up on top of it.
“How is this? Good, yes?” He grins warmly at me. His dark eyes smile with the rest of his face. Out of all of this confusion, one thing is clear: I’m safe with these people. In fact, now that I think about it, all my fear and apprehension have completely faded away. Something about this place, “Minor Calm” Mel had called it, feels familiar even though I’ve never dreamt about it before. The room is rich with color—a stark contrast to the outside world. I’m overwhelmingly comfortable.
A warmth spreads through my chest. I feel like I’m home—safer than I’ve ever felt before. I never want to leave. I look to Mel and Crank and am surprised to find I’m seeing them through a curtain of tears brimming on my lower lids.
I blink them away, laughing, and exclaim, “This is the strangest dream I have ever had! And I’ve had some real doozies.”
Crank and Mel exchange a significant glance. Mel looks at me and places a hand on my forearm.
“Let’s have a look at those hands and see what can be done about them.” She examines my palms gently and then looks over my knees through my tattered pajama bottoms. Pajama bottoms? Whoa. I check the rest of me—I’m wearing the pajamas I went to sleep in. They’re dirty and torn in places and stained with blood, but they are definitely the clothes I wore to bed.
“It’s a good thing I don’t sleep naked,” I mutter under my breath. Mel and Crank look at each other and burst with laughter. Mel laughs so hard her eyes tear up and Crank clutches his sides. It takes a while for them to stop laughing enough to talk.
Through her giggles, Mel manages to say, “That’s how Timothy showed up! Butt naked! Oh it was the funniest thing you ever saw!”
“No no, let me tell it!” Crank interrupts her. “So there he is, in the middle of a wooded forest, running for his life from a herd of Shades. He’s screaming in his Scottish voice, yes? He goes ‘HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!’” Crank butchers what I can only imagine is his version of a Scottish brogue and waves his arms over his head hysterically.
“So Boss, he comes riding in on his Big-Bike, and to find what? A pasty white, orange-haired, COMPLET
ELY NAKED man!” He laughs so hard now that Mel has to take over telling the story for him.
“And that isn’t even the best part!” she exclaims. “The best part is that Boss has to scoop him up and ride all the way back to Major Calm with Timothy’s skinny white arse right behind him, holding on for dear life!”
Their laughter is contagious and even though I have no idea who Boss or Timothy is, I can’t help but laugh along with them.
“And that’s why,” Mel pauses and looks at Crank, “YOU NEVER SLEEP IN THE NUDE!” they both shout together.
They sigh with joy as Mel continues examining my injuries.
“Well, Miss Adelaide, you’re really not that bad off. I’m not much of a healer but I can at least stop the bleeding for now. Our Doc’s over at Major Calm at the moment, so you won’t get a full heal until tomorrow night. I suggest you take it as easy as you can tomorrow. You’ll be in a right amount of pain but you’ll live.” She gently places a hand on each knee, closes her eyes, and furrows her brow.
“So your name is Adelaide? That’s very beautiful! Are you an Ameri—”
“SSSHHHH! Crank! How can I do this with your constant earbashing? I need to concentrate.”
Crank gets a sheepish look on his face and mouths “sorry” to no one in particular. I smile at him and he doesn’t seem so wounded anymore.
A strange thing begins to happen as we sit quietly. I begin to feel warmth grow on my knees under Mel’s hands. The flesh there begins to tingle and itch.
“What’s that feeling? What are you doing?” I ask worriedly.
“Shh. I’m almost finished,” Mel whispers. She’s holding her breath and her face is scrunched up in concentration. I watch her hands, almost expecting them to glow or do something spectacular, but they appear normal. She suddenly exhales and slouches forward.
“That’s all I can do for your knees. I’m not a natural healer, but I know a trick or two to encourage the body to speed up healing. Let me try your hands now.”