by Jim Butcher
The last word she spoke sat in his chest like a hot stone. “Non-existence? You mean… I’m going to die?”
Everything in the room suddenly seemed smaller. The table, the mushroom stools, the picture frames, the walls. As well as every molecule of air that was available to breathe.
“No,” she said, after a too-long pause. “You won’t die. You’re just not going to be anymore. By the end of this day, you’re no longer going to exist.”
Alek’s heart was pounding in his ears. His breaths came sharp and quick as the panic took hold of him, and it felt very much like something had gripped his lungs and was squeezing them as tightly as it could manage. He shook his head, giving himself over to denial, and met Jordan’s eyes. He wanted to see even a hint of a smile in them, like this was all just some sick, cruel joke. But all he found was the truth. He was going to blink out of existence by the day’s end.
Tears welled up in Alek’s eyes against his will. This couldn’t be it, couldn’t be the end of him. He was just a kid, just a teenager. he hadn’t even kissed a girl yet. When he spoke, his voice shook slightly. “Please, Jordan. You have to help me.”
She grew very quiet, brushing a few tears from the tip of her nose and her cheeks. He’d fully expected her to shake her head, to tell him that there was absolutely nothing that they could do to preserve his future. But she didn’t. After a moment, she released his hand and sat back in her chair, cradling her arms around her waist, darting her eyes about the room, as if a thought had popped into her head. One that had deeply disturbed her.
Alek sat forward, his eyes locked on her grief-stricken face. “What is it, Jordan? What can I do? There has to be something! And if you know and you don’t tell me—”
“There is something.” She met his eyes, and then blinked, as if she were shaking off a bad dream. “Maybe. But I can’t help you with it. And it might not even work. It probably won’t work at all.”
“But it might.” He wasn’t feeling a burst of optimism, but he did know that if they, if he, did nothing to prevent himself from dying, blinking out of existence, whatever you wanted to call it, then that was exactly what was going to happen. “Please?”
She stood, arms still wrapped around her waist, and began pacing the small room slowly. “Have you ever heard of a man by the name of Cameron Boswell, Alek? Probably not. He was here a bit before your time.”
But Alek did remember him. Not from memory, but from whispers around town. People said he was a troublemaker. People said that Misery was better off without him here. But people said little else about him.
She didn’t wait for an answer. She merely paused for a moment and became lost in thought again, leaving her parlor, Alek, and the entire town of Misery behind for the time being. In her eyes, Alek could tell that she was someplace else. Someplace better. Then worse. A brief smile touched her lips before crumbling away like ashes in the wind. Whatever she had been thinking about had made her happy—incredibly happy—but whatever that was gone now, and all that was left were shadows. “He was a kind man. Outgoing. Generous. But not well liked around town. Maybe it was because he was different than everyone else. Not in any way that you could see just by looking at him. But Cameron... Cameron was different.”
Her smile returned long enough to lightly brush the edges of her lips before fluttering away again. “On his fifth anniversary in town, Cameron came to me to receive his Gift. It was the same as yours, Alek. His gift was nothing.”
Alek sucked in his breath. He wasn’t the first to receive the gift of nothing, and what scared him most about that was that Cameron was nowhere to be found. Blinked out of existence, maybe. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “What happened to him?”
She moved to the archway and stared out into the foyer at nothing in particular. Slowly, she raised her right hand and gripped the drapes gently, as if they might help to steady her should she fall. “He came to me with this crazy theory. He thought that if he could manage to leave Misery, he might not cease to exist. If he could somehow get past its borders and head for the next town, then maybe he’d be alright.”
Alek’s forehead creased as he strained to recall where exactly the border to Misery was located. Had he ever been to the edge of town? Was there an edge to town? He wasn’t certain. He only knew that ideas were only crazy-sounding to those who had other options. If Cameron had actually left Misery, and was living out his days somewhere else, if he had proven that it could be done, then Alek was totally on board the crazy train, without hesitation. “Where is it? The way out of town, I mean.”
“I’m not sure anyone really knows. Cameron thought that you could leave Misery by heading north, and climbing that really big hill there. He said the other side of it was the border. I don’t know if he was right or not.”
But Cameron had known. And Alek very much wanted to know that too. That there was a way out. That he didn’t have to blink out of existence, just because Misery had deemed it so. He stood at last and brushed past her into the foyer, determination driving him forward. “I’m going. I have to try.”
But before his fingertips could make contact with the doorknob, she gripped the back of his shirt. “Wait! You can go. You should! But don’t tell anyone else. The people who live here... in a way, they are Misery. If they know you’re trying to leave... I don’t know. It’s not safe, Alek. They’ll stop you.”
Alek paused, letting his hand fall back to his side, before turning back to Jordan. If he didn’t ask her now, he might not ever know. “How do you know all of this, Jordan? I mean, I get that the Gift giving is some kind of psychic deal. That’s not exactly a secret. But how do you know all about Cameron?”
Her eyes glistened with tears, and when she spoke, her voice cracked slightly. “Cameron and I were engaged.”
Engaged. And then Cameron went away forever. It had to be an impossible thing to face—losing your fiancé in one way or another. Either by him disappearing completely or leaving town forever. “I’m sorry.”
“The day I gave him his Gift, he told Mr. Whirly and I about his plans to leave. Mr. Whirly used to be a joyous man, full of a bubbly, infectious spirit. But he changed after hearing Cameron’s plans. He just seemed... darker.” She lifted the corner of her apron and dabbed at her eyes. “Cameron didn’t really have a chance after that. He made it to the bottom of the big hill before he disappeared. I was there. I saw the whole thing happen. He simply... ceased to be. It was horrible. I don’t want it to happen to anyone else.”
Alek watched her for a moment, wishing he could take her pain away. Then he reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. She squeezed his back, and they exchanged nods before putting on pleasantly false smiles. By the time Alek opened the door, all seemed well with the two of them, though it was anything but.
Sara crammed the remainder of a half-eaten cookie in her mouth and chewed fast before swallowing. As she skipped across the porch to Alek, who was closing the door behind him, she said, “So? What’s your Gift?”
Alek smiled, remembering what Jordan had said about Mr. Whirly. “I can’t tell you just yet. But I know where to go to get it.”
“That’s weird. Where do you have to go?” She followed him down the steps, a doubtful crease in her forehead.
Alek paused as they reached the next block. He had to get rid of Sara, couldn’t risk her changing like Mr. Whirly had with Cameron. What if Jordan was right? What if the townspeople really were the town? He couldn’t fully trust anyone. Maybe not even Jordan—something that sent a nervous chill down his spine. Shrugging casually, he couldn’t help but notice Virginia toiling in her flowerbeds again. “The north side of town. I can go get it and bring it back.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’ll come with you.” The words had no sooner left her mouth than Virginia looked up at them, a burning curiosity in her gaze. On any other day, Alek might not have noticed such blatant curiosity. But today was different. Today was his last day in Misery, one way or the other.
He
lowered his voice, trying to keep any sense of nervousness out of his tone. “I’d kinda like to get it on my own, okay?”
Sara threw her arms up in exasperation. “Why are you acting so weird?”
Virginia had stood up then, and approached her picket fence. Mr. Hoffman had stopped on the sidewalk where he was walking his poodle. Both stared at Alek with an intensity that solidified his belief in Jordan’s words.
Alek tugged her sleeve and headed north. He had no choice but to take Sara with him. “I’m not. Come on then.”
Sara moved up the sidewalk with him, but slowly, almost reluctantly. They’d moved two blocks before Alek felt eyes on him, almost burning their gaze into his back. Glancing as casually as he could manage over his right shoulder, he noticed Mr. Hoffman following from about a block away. He was pulling back on his poodle’s leash as it barked and showed its teeth, the way that Alek had never seen it do before. Behind Mr. Hoffman by a matter of steps was Virginia, who had seemed so kind and caring just a few minutes before he’d set foot in Jordan’s house. But there was no kindness in her face now, no smile on her lips. Misery had changed, with the mention of a single word: nothing.
“Alek, slow down!”
Sara was jogging beside him now. Alek hadn’t even realized that he’d instinctively picked up his pace. But he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t face whatever it was that Virginia and Mr. Hoffman had planned for him.
As he reached the final street block at the foot of the hill, Sara panting behind him by several feet, he dared a glance over his shoulder again. Several more townspeople were hurrying to his current location, none of them looking happy at all. Mr. Whirly was bringing up the rear. Alek couldn’t be sure, but he swore he saw a large gray crow circling overhead. But the hill was right there! He was so close to freedom, so close to being safe. He turned back to the hill with a determined breath. And a familiar hand fell on his left shoulder.
Alek turned to face Sara. She was still his best friend, still the girl he told everything too, and why should this be any different? But as he opened his mouth to explain, his eyes met with hers. Only her eyes were different now. They sparkled like glass in the sun. Her eyes were that of the crow’s from the fountain. Because she was a part of Misery as much as it was. Her mouth contorted into a maniacal grin. “You can’t leave us, Alek. You can’t ever leave us.”
A familiar voice—Jordan’s voice, though he couldn’t see her from where he was standing—shouted, “Run, Alek! Run for your life!”
Alek screamed and bolted up the hill. Behind him, he could hear the townspeople scrambling after him, but he couldn’t look back. He didn’t want to see what was coming for him, couldn’t bear to see what had happened to his friends, his neighbors. He ran, digging his sneakers into the soft earth, and at last, he reached the crest of the enormous hill. He hurried over its peak to the other side.
He was there! He was free!
But as he leaned forward on his knees to catch his breath, his breath caught in his throat in a moment of utter terror.
His hands. His hands, which should have been on his knees, were gone. Invisible. Disappeared. They were nothing, and that nothingness was quickly moving up his arms. He was fading, and fast. Tears poured down his cheeks and he shouted into the sky. “Nooooo!!! I made it! I made it!”
Alek fell to his knees, which he could no longer see, and waited for something to happen—for Misery to consume him, or for his nothingness to be completed. His heart pounded in terror. In the distance, on the side of the hill facing away from town, he saw a flash of something. It was probably the crow’s eye, he mused.
Only…it was something purple. Bright purple. A color, unlike anything at all in the town of Misery. Then there was another flash. This time orange. Then pink. Then red.
And then Alek stopped caring that he was disappearing, because a memory slipped back into his mind. A memory of colors and warmth and joy. It was a memory of home, his home before Misery. He recalled his family, his neighbors, and the way that life had been. Life—that’s what it had been. Not the place between lives, the way that Misery was. After all, he recalled, that’s what Misery was—a place where people went between their actual lives.
And now, he was going home.
SHADOW CHILDREN
~
by Heather Brewer
“Goodnight, Jon.” Dax pulled the covers over his little brother’s chest. Jon was wearing his favorite pajamas again, despite the hour-long argument that flannel wasn’t exactly a summer weight fabric and the buttons were on the verge of falling off. Surrendering with a sigh, Dax walked out of the room, flipping the light switch as he went. Not a second later, Jon’s Batman nightlight went out, which instantly sparked whining from the six-year-old.
“Dax, my nightlight! I can’t sleep without my nightlight. The shadows will get me!”
Dax sighed again, silently counting the seconds until mom and dad would be home. It was like this every night. John would whine to mom or dad and they’d make sure his nightlight was working or that the hall light was on, anything to placate Jon’s irrational fear of things that weren’t really lurking in the shadows, waiting to snatch him away. Only tonight, it was Dax who was left to placate him. Bad enough he had to miss out on Janie’s party to babysit his little brother, but now he was also expected to cater to Jon’s ridiculous fear of the dark. “I’ll grab you a flashlight, Jon. Just give me a second.”
It was all he could do to block out Jon’s blubbering as he walked into the kitchen. He pulled the drawer open and rummaged around. A flashlight had to be in there somewhere.
“Dax, hurry! The shadows!”
Dax found a couple of flashlights and picked one up, tapping it gently against his chin. Maybe it would be better if he did them all a favor and showed Jon that there were no such things as monsters under your bed, nothing at all lurking in the pitch black of night. If he let Jon cry it out just for one night, maybe the kid would grow up and stop being such a baby. Maybe then babysitting him without pay and missing out on the party of the year wouldn’t be so bad. Dax mulled this over for a moment, blocking out the whimpers from down the hall. “It’s just the dark, Jon. There’s nothing in it that isn’t there in the day time.”
Jon screamed. And it wasn’t one of those little brat screams for attention. He sounded terrified. Like his life depended on someone hearing and responding to his terrified shriek.
Dax bolted back to the bedroom and stared in shocked disbelief.
A long, dark, shadow was looming over the bed. But it wasn’t an ordinary shadow. It was darker than the rest of the room, and moved of its own free will. It was a creature made of shadows. It was alive. Part of it whipped forward and wrapped around Jon’s ankle. Jon cried, “Help me, Dax!”
The shadow monster was pulling Jon off the bed, but Dax was frozen in place, staring at this thing that couldn’t possibly exist. Jon was flailing, tears streaming down his cheeks. Breaking free from his trance, Dax clutched his brother’s wrist, but he was hit in the chest and thrown against the wall. Pain bolted through Dax’s back as he hit and crumpled to the floor. He struggled to sit up again, but a tentacle of the shadow monster stood in front of him, defying him to move. There were no eyes or mouth, but somehow Dax knew that the thing was looking at him. He swore he heard a growl, but it had no mouth, no substance. The shadow monster lurched back and ripped Dax’s brother free of his covers.
Dax ran forward and grabbed Jon by the ankle. They both flew through the air and into the closet. The door slammed shut, sealing them in pitch black.
A sound caught his attention, like a large amount of sand falling through a grainy, wooden hourglass. It was coming from the floor. Dax looked down. The floor was moving. It swirled around his feet, the sand-like substance of what had once been a wood floor crashed over the toe of his sock in small, black waves. He pulled his foot back, but the sand clung to it. Beside him, Jon whimpered as the sand closed over his arm. Dax brushed it away, but it seemed to have a life
of its own. The sand covered him and all he could do was lay there, feeling the weight of it curl around his feet, his ankles, his legs, knowing he was sinking into it—whatever it was. It moved up his torso and he felt suffocated—there was no air, only sand.
Beside him, Jon screamed, but his screams were cut off as the sand closed over his small head. Dax grabbed desperately for Jon’s hand, but there was nothing to grab. His brother was gone.
Strangely, he could feel his legs dangling on the other side, like he was slipping through some hole. It covered his chest, and Dax took a deep breath and held it, not knowing if he would ever breathe again, not knowing what was happening or what to do to stop it. The sand swirled around, tickling his eyelashes, covering his face. He felt the weight of it on top of his head, and wondered if he would ever see Jon again.
Suddenly, the sand compacted tightly around him and, just as quickly, released. Dax fell several feet, landing on the hard ground below. He coughed and drew air into his lungs. His chest burned, but after a few deep breaths, it came easily again. Remembering the flashlight, he turned it on and looked around, gasping at what he saw.
He was in a cavern. An enormous cavern of what must have been obsidian—the walls were shiny and black, the floor smooth and reflective. He shined the flashlight up at where he’d fallen through, but there was no sign of any hole or trapdoor, or even sand. Only hard, black rock. The floor trembled slightly beneath his feet. He noticed the movement less when he stepped forward, but despite the floor’s solid appearance, it struck him as fragile.
On the ceiling, just on the edge of the flashlight beam, something moved. Dax chased it with the light, but it remained at the beam’s edge. And like that, on the edge of his hearing, Dax detected a sound, like a group of people whispering very softly. “Hello?”