by Amanda Boone
Amanda brushed her hair back into a ponytail, ran a stick of deodorant under her arms, and headed out of her room, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to face whatever came her way. But when she got downstairs, she was met with something—or rather someone—she hadn’t expected.
Marie wasn’t in the kitchen but was in the living room instead, and she was seated across from a tall, thin man who was slightly older than her and far less attractive. His features were bland, and so was his clothing and facial expression, and he definitely didn’t look like he’d stopped by on any type of social call.
“Amanda,” Marie said, looking up from the cup of coffee she had in front of her. She was drinking it out of one of her fancier teacups, not a mug, which wasn’t a good sign as far as Amanda was concerned. “This is my friend Peter—Peter Albert. I asked him here tonight to talk with you.”
Amanda stared at her cousin and her cousin’s unlikely companion from the bottom of the stairway. She raised her eyebrow, turned, and then headed toward the kitchen. “No thanks,” she said, making her way to the refrigerator for a snack. “I’m not dating anyone new right now.”
It was obvious that Marie hadn’t called Peter there as Amanda’s date, and Amanda was obviously trying to be a bit reticent in saying what she’d said.
“Seriously, Amanda,” Marie said. “After what’s been happening, I was very worried.” Marie and Peter walked into the kitchen behind Amanda, not skipping a beat.
“First you wake up and have no idea what happened the night before,” Marie went on. “Then you pass out in the middle of the night and sleep all day. You’ve been in a daze since you got here, and I can’t just sit back and watch this happen to you. I figured maybe you needed someone to talk to.”
Amanda examined Peter. Even if she wanted to talk to someone, he didn’t look like the kind of guy she’d want to talk to.
“I mean, you only lost your mom two years ago,” Marie continued, starting to ramble. “And you were really serious with Tommy for two years after that. You guys only recently broke up, and maybe there are some unresolved feelings there or something—maybe something is eating away at you. Whatever it is, you’ve got to confront it.”
Amanda felt her face getting hot. She didn’t like her cousin standing there, disclosing so many intimate details about her life, and she knew Marie had probably shared more with this stranger before she’d walked in on them in the living room.
“I can help you,” Peter said, reaching his thin fingers into the pocket on the chest of his generic button-down shirt. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Amanda. Amanda looked at it quickly and was just about to dismiss it, but she couldn’t. Her jaw dropped, and she gawked at her cousin.
“Dr. Peter Albert, Psychiatrist,” Amanda read from the card before throwing it down on the counter. “You fucking called a shrink to talk to me?” she asked her cousin. Marie looked back at her without saying a word, and Peter stepped forward. “Calm down, Miss Leonard,” he said. “Let’s just go in the other room, sit down, and work through this.”
“You go to the living room,” Amanda said, burning through him with her eyes to look at her cousin, who stood humbled behind him. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”
With that, Amanda stormed upstairs and returned to her room, where she collected as much of her stuff as she could. All she cared about was her phone, her purse, and her car keys, but she grabbed what clothes she could, figuring she’d forget about whatever she left behind. She’d come here to help her cousin get ready for an event, out of the kindness of her heart, but now she wanted nothing more than to get as far as she could away from her.
“Amanda, wait!” Marie shouted when Amanda ran down the stairs a minute later, but Amanda had her keys in her hand and a plan in her mind, and she wasn’t stopping. She careened right past Marie—and right past Peter, who sat on the couch writing something in his notebook—and made a beeline for her 1992 Chevy Cavalier.
Amanda hopped in her car, revved the engine, and looked at the gas gauge. It read over half of a tank, and she wasn’t sure how accurate it was, but as she shifted the sedan into drive, she hoped it’d be enough to get her wherever she was going.
Chapter 7
“Oh no,” Amanda said, staring down at her dashboard. “Why the hell does this keep happening?”
The needle on her gas gauge had just spontaneously shifted from around a half of a tank to well below “E,” and, as Amanda’s car sputtered forward, she knew that she was nearing empty.
That’s what you get for driving such an old car, Amanda told herself, once again. She’d said that same phrase to herself several times over the past few months, but this time it felt even more familiar to her. She’d been having trouble with the gas gauge for months, and, every once in awhile, despite her better efforts, she ended up in a situation like this… though this particular situation felt hauntingly similar to another she’d experienced, though she could say why.
“Fuck,” Amanda said, examining her cell phone. “No Service” flashed across the screen at her, and she wanted to throw the useless piece of junk out of the moving car window.
Amanda looked out at the sprawled out, empty space beside her as her car continued to slowly lurch forward. She’d been driving along an unoccupied, rural stretch of highway, trying to make some time on her way back to Pittsburgh, and there wasn’t a home, business, or shred of discernable human life or activity around for miles.
A cold chill filled the car, as if someone had blasted the air conditioner. This all seems so familiar, Amanda thought to herself, pulling her car over to the side of the road. She thought about checking her gas can in the trunk, but she knew it was empty but for a few drops, and she didn’t want to risk trying to stretch out what was left by adding water.
That could be dangerous, she told herself. If I had a phone signal, I could look that up on the internet. Amanda’s head was spinning, and it was flooded with images from ripped from the silver screens and headlines. She didn’t want to be a sitting duck on the side of the road, so she decided to hoof it towards civilization, even though her head wasn’t on straight just yet.
She collected her belongings from the seat beside her and reached behind her to grab her overnight bag. If someone wants this piece of junk, they can have it, she told herself, readying herself to abandon her ride. Just as she turned back around to face the front again, Amanda dropped her bag, gasped, and felt startled. A bright light was shining on her, and a vehicle was traveling in her direction.
The vehicle kept traveling toward Amanda until it stopped directly in front of her—and, when it did, it idled with its lights on, and Amanda was unable to see much else other than its large, broad shape and the smaller, rounder shape of a figure approaching her.
Instinctively, without even thinking about it, Amanda turned off her engine, opened her car door, and stepped out into the night. The bright light surround her, and, as the figure drew closer to her, she felt more and more drawn to it. She began walking aimlessly into the light, which was otherwise blinding, and soon enough felt entirely engulfed in it. She couldn’t see, hear, think or feel anything but the brightness around her, and it kept propelling her forward.
The next thing Amanda knew, she felt as though she’d hit a brick wall. Something hard and wicked slammed against her chest, and it knocked the wind right out of her. It took her a moment to recover from the blow, and when she finally did, she looked around her and noticed that the bright light had entirely faded and the night had returned to a still, empty darkness.
Amanda looked out at the road ahead of her, and the other vehicle was gone—it had disappeared in what seemed like an instant, and the mere idea of that terrified her. She knew that, no matter what, shit like that just didn’t happen.
She realized that she was without her purse, bag, or phone, and though she’d remembered trying to grab it all, she was unsure where it was but figured it had to be in her car, which she could sense was still behind her
.
Amanda turned around to return to her car when she was immediately met with a pair of steely gray eyes placed perfectly in a perfectly shaped face. The pale, ashen skin surrounding those eyes looked eerie, yet inviting, and the jet black hair that jetted down above them in crooked spikes poked at her senses.
Amanda gazed into those steely gray eyes for a moment later before leaning forward and placing her lips against those of the mystery man who stood before her. “You taste familiar,” she said, registering his sweet flavor.
“I should,” the figure said back, though his lips didn’t seem to move with his words. They did, however, move when he brought them back to Amanda’s.
“This has happened before, hasn’t it?” she asked, melting into his mouth. As his tongue flicked against hers, it felt like he had taken control over all of her muscles and was massaging them.
“Not this exactly,” the strange figure said. “But something a lot like it.” Amanda felt dangerously close to him, and though she knew that they were both clothed, it felt like his manhood was inside her. Something thick, hard, and hearty was swelling and throbbing throughout it, and she wanted so desperately to understand it, though she wanted even more to yield to it.
“I’m so sorry,” Amanda said, again feeling the need to compensate for every aspect of the situation around her, “but I don’t remember everything.”
“It’s okay,” the mysterious figure assured her. “You weren’t meant to. You weren’t allowed to—that’s what the gallerine was for. But, tonight, we’ll go without it.”
Amanda had never heard the word gallerine before, but she immediately knew it referred to the green liquid she only vaguely remembered drinking the other night.
“And we’ll go without all of the other bells and whistles, too,” the figure added. Amanda tried as best as she could to look at him and appreciate all his beauty, but, as incredibly attractive as he was, there was also something vacant about him. He had something about him that begged to be overlooked and could easily be forgotten. Each time Amanda thought she came to realize something about him, she immediately lost track of it, and found herself mesmerized by his mere presence.
“What other bells and whistles?” she asked, though she wasn’t necessarily looking for an answer.
“Like this,” he said, flicking his fingers. In a flash, Amanda was no longer on the side of the road but was suddenly in a crowded roadside bar, surrounded by other people. But, those other people didn’t look so real to her at the moment—they looked like holographs or projections from a reel somewhere. They were going about their business without making any noise and without any response to Amanda and her companion.
“These things are just meant to sooth you,” he said, flicking his fingers again. In a flash, all the other people disappeared and he and Amanda were standing alone in the otherwise empty bar scene, next to a table much like the one Amanda recalled sitting at the other night.
Amanda had no idea what was going on—but she knew one things for certain. Whoever, or whatever this mysterious figure was, he definitely wasn’t human, and he was definitely calling into question everything she thought she knew about herself, her world, and the greater universe around her.
Chapter 8
“Where am I?” Amanda asked the being seated across from her at the small, round table, still unable to completely discern his appearance.
“That’s a good question,” he replied, “but there is no easy way to answer it. For centuries, your people have tried to explain this place in terms of religion, myth, and science, but nothing has even come close to it describing it. Suffice to say, however, that you are in a very unique place, and the fact that you are here is very significant. It’s rare for someone of your kind to be here, let alone grasp anything that happens here.
“So for the time being, please understand that you are in a safe place and that no harm will come to you while you are here. Think of this as a safe harbor if you will—a plane that exists solely for the purpose of existing and providing a place for beings to go when they most need it.”
“Am I dead?” Amanda asked, confused. She suddenly wished she had some of the gallerine to calm her nerves or at least a few more sweet, tender kisses.
“Hardly,” the mysterious being said. “In fact, you’re more alive than you know. and that fact puts you in grave danger.”
“I thought you said I was safe here,” Amanda repeated, trying to make sense of the words that seemed to be coming at her from nowhere.
“You are,” the being confirmed. “You are safe here, but I can’t say the same for you when you’re anywhere else. I don’t want to frighten you, but I must tell you there are certain forces determined to harm you, possibly kill you, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“Why’s that?” Amanda asked, even more confused by the situation.
“You’re a very special girl, Amanda,” the being said. “And, in time, it will all become clear, but we must take baby steps and get to that point gradually, so as not to overwhelm you. What you’ve experienced already is enough to drive some of your kind insane, if not kill them.”
Amanda felt a lump rise in her throat, and if she hadn’t been so intoxicated by the strange creature before her, she would have wished she was still back at Marie’s dealing with “Dr. Peter Albert, Psychiatrist.” At least he was human.
Amanda’s ethereal companion could tell she was having a hard time digesting things, so he flicked his fingers again. Out of nowhere, an old-school jukebox appeared in the middle of the room, and, in an instant, Amanda and the being were standing beside it.
“Classic rock?” the figure asked, leaning over the glass of the machine, turning the knob at its side. “Led Zeppelin’s your favorite—or at least it was—if I’m not mistaken.”
Amanda nodded her head, and a moment later heard Robert Plant’s voice wailing from the machine. She couldn’t tell exactly what song it was he was singing, and she wasn’t sure it was anyone in particular to begin with. The sound that came out of the jukebox was like a mix of everything the band had ever done, and, instead of sounding dissident or unbalanced, it sounded beautiful, in both perfect harmony and rhythm.
“May I have this dance?” the mysterious being said, holding out his hand to Amanda.
Without answering, Amanda found herself in his arms, lulled by his presence as well as the hard rock hodgepodge coming out of the jukebox. “Baby steps,” he whispered into her, making a noise that sounded like laughter. “I guess we still need some of the bells and whistles after all.”
“I guess so,” Amanda replied, echoing back. She didn’t know why she’d said it, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment. In another quick flash, the holographic room around them shifted again, and Amanda found herself in what looked like a gymnasium, surrounded by people half her age. She immediately thought back to her 8th grade end-of-year dance, which she’d gone to with a handsome 13-year-old named Bobby Byers. She remembered dancing with him to some cheesy Led Zeppelin song and fainting in his arms when it was over. It had taken her a few years to live that one down with her peers, and she’d harbored a soft spot for Zeppelin ever since then.
“You were there,” Amanda said, and the moment she said it, she realized that she’d said it, not asked it. “You always have been,” she added, bringing her lips closer to his, wanting so badly to taste his sweetness.
“Not always,” he said without moving his lips. “But most of the time.”
In a flash almost as quickly as the flashes that indicated the changes in scenery, Amanda was rushed with a series of images and realizations. All those times she’d “fainted” or, later, “blacked out from drinking,” she hadn’t lost complete control of herself and her senses. She’d gone somewhere else. She’d gone to this place. She’d been here before—many times and many times more than she could remember.
The space around her transformed into a playground, and she saw herself spazzing out over a busted tooth tha
t a bully had just knocked out of her mouth. Next, she was in an empty classroom, playing checkers with a child who was just as upset as she was; then she was off at college, drunk and hunched over a toilet. She saw herself at her mother’s funeral, staring over the casket with an unidentifiable shadow looming behind her, and she could hear someone whispering in her ear only moments before she walked in on Tommy cheating.
The images kept coming at Amanda, one after the other, until she saw herself on the same road she’d traveled earlier that night, headed in the opposite direction. She saw a great light, and then she was grounded back in the moment. The space around her was again a bar scene, with its lone table and lone jukebox, still playing some collection of Led Zeppelin.
“The crossroads?” she asked, pulling back from her dancing partner without moving away from him.
“I guess you could call it that,” he said. “It’s a shared stop on our common highway.”
He was dancing with Amanda to a new rhythm now, and it seemed a little too fast for her liking. She wanted to slow things down a bit, but she couldn’t do anything to change the sounds coming out around her.
The more she was around this creature, the more lucid Amanda became, and the more things started to make sense to her, even though this situation was far beyond anything that she could have imagined.
“Why now?” Amanda asked, intuitively waving a peace sign across her eyes, dancing to the hippie tunes that were playing around her. It was like a scene from a 1970’s disco movie starring Jon Travolta, the kind she stayed up far too late watching as a child. She didn’t want to execute the corny dance moves, but she felt compelled to do so—and so did her sleek, sexy companion.
“You must have called it ‘the crossroads’ for a reason,” he said, making some strange step that made him look like a robot climbing a ladder. “You’re here because you have to make a very important decision.”