Hellworld

by Tom Leveen

  Charlie stumbled backward, right fist raised to punch the cameraman tottering after him, but he didn’t swing. What would his target be? The cameraman’s skull remained more or less intact, but his face was gone, a gaping, lurid hole, yet still he shambled toward Charlie with arms outstretched. Whatever evil thing animated their corpses—because that was all they could possibly be—hadn’t protected anything but their hands. Alex’s mother lay in a dusty heap on top of her son, but those bones still dug and worked at Alex’s throat; the cameraman hadn’t had eyes two minutes ago, and now he had no face, yet still he could pursue Charlie.

  The only possibility, I realized with a sort of religious awe and hopelessness, was that we had entered Hell.

  “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Selby screeched into the dirt.

  Charlie was right. We had to go. Should never have come. Alex was dead. Alex . . . yes, Alex now lay still, as his mother’s claws kept digging deeper and deeper into his neck. From four people who started the adventure now down to three, and things were only getting worse.

  I tried to tell Charlie we had to leave. To run. To get out, and get out now. But then I felt a pinprick of ice against the back of my neck that forced me to turn.

  I’d actually forgotten about her. About the rest of them. Up and on their feet and headed toward us. I must have backed up at an angle while watching Alex. The pinprick became spider legs, dancing little dots of icy chill on my skin as I turned.

  It was her.

  Mom.

  Her skeleton hands grazed my neck, my face inches away from her taut, dry, brown skin. Her eyes and mouth were as black as char. Through her stretched and tightened lips, I heard two syllables whisper:

  Aaaaaah-eeeeee.

  My name.

  I screamed from the bottom of my soul and pushed my mother with both hands. She fell backward a step. I kept screaming, and vaguely thought I heard Selby echoing it.

  My mother regained her balance and stepped toward me again.

  Then her head exploded into brown powder and stray bits of hair.

  Charlie stood behind her recovering from his swing of the heavy black police-style flashlight. My mother collapsed with the sound of kindling dropped before a fireplace. Charlie stood above her and pounded down with the flashlight as if it were a sledgehammer, crying out with each blow.

  I watched him, screaming over and over, as he pummeled my mother into dust and bone.

  I heard my own scream begin to die, winding down like a siren. Maddened, Charlie raced around the cavern, attacking the other mummies, swinging wildly.

  At some point, I know I sat on the ground. Watching, mouth open, and perhaps drooling senselessly. I don’t know how long his rampage lasted, only that eventually, the entire crew and our missing family members lay in puddles of crushed bone and hair, no longer animated, and the cavern became silent.

  No, not silent. Not entirely.

  33

  Now

  * * *

  I wake up under my comforter, my shoes off. I have a brief and glorious moment of joy that I’ve just woken up from the worst dream in recorded history . . . but the penetrating silence outside is enough to convince me I’m wrong.

  I know I should be hungry, and my stomach even makes warning noises to that effect, but I can’t eat. Can’t move. Here, I am warm. Here, I am home. Or at least what was home. The word “orphan”pops into my head, and once there, I can’t get rid of it.

  With no electricity, my clock shows only a blank, uncaring rectangular face. I watch it for a while, thinking maybe it will somehow blink twelve at me again, ready to be reset. It doesn’t. All that matters now is drawing another breath. One after the other.

  When I can’t take the silence anymore, I swing my feet out from under the comforter and aim myself at the kitchen. I stop at the end of the hall and see Charlie is sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. I don’t see Selby. And my father is no longer lying dead or worse on the kitchen floor.

  Charlie turns to look at me. He’s aged a decade.

  “Hey,”he says. He’s in the same clothes as yesterday. Whenever “yesterday”was.

  I take a step closer. “Hey.”

  “I put him in his room,”Charlie says. “Cleaned everything up. It’s safe to go in. There’s some food in the fridge and cabinets and whatever. I guess you’d know that.”

  “Where’s Selby?”

  “Out back.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “You mean the wound? No idea. Outside of that . . . well, I still have no idea.”

  I will myself to get as far as the threshold of the kitchen doorway. Charlie is right; all evidence of last night’s fight is gone, including Dad.

  “Abby?”Charlie says from the couch.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have we gone absolutely fucking insane?”

  “That would be great. But I don’t think so. How long have you been up?”

  “No idea.”

  “What’s it like out there?”

  “Smoky. And it stinks. Like . . . like—”

  “I don’t want to know,”I say. “Have you eaten?”

  “Tried. Not much. What the hell are we going to do?”

  “Let me eat. And we’ll talk.”

  Charlie doesn’t nod or say yes. He just turns his head away and stares at our blank TV. I make myself a peanut butter sandwich, thinking maybe this will be our new diet staple. I eat it at the table with a warm bottle of water. I smell antiseptic as I eat. Charlie did a good job cleaning. Probably better than I ever did, or Dad ever did. But Dad will never clean again. I won’t either.

  These thoughts make me sick. The peanut butter sticks in my throat and it takes the entire bottle of water to wash it down. I stop eating then.

  I go back into the living room. Charlie doesn’t seem to have moved.

  “There might be hot water still,”I say. “If you want to shower. And Dad’s clothes might fit you. If you want. Or I could try washing your clothes in the sink.”

  Charlie gets to his feet and walks past me into the hall. “Thank you,”he says, and that’s all. He goes into the guest bath—basically my bathroom—and the water turns on.

  I peek out the front window blinds. Our street looks cold and deserted. Amazing how quickly a normal street in a normal town can turn gray and lifeless in just a couple days. Mrs. Brower’s truck is in her driveway, and I debate going next door to check on her. I know I will at some point, just to see if she’s alive, but not yet. Maybe later, with Charlie, if he’s up for it. Not now. Too dangerous. Charlie was right: We couldn’t trust anybody. Having an actual former nurse take a look at Selby’s injury would definitely make me feel better, though.

  Reminded of Selby, I go out to the backyard, and find her sitting with her back against my tree-house tree, knees drawn up to her chest. I imagine her smoking a cigarette, and it actually takes a moment to realize she isn’t. I walk over and sit down beside her.

  “I wanted to climb up,”she says, her head tilted back to look at the stars. We can’t see many; the layer of smoke is too thick on the one hand, but the lack of electricity has darkened the world so more stars can shine. “I think I would’ve popped a stitch.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t try.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t know how to put in stitches, for starters.”

  “No,”Selby says, and drops her chin. “I mean, about me. At all. Ever since the goddamn cave, you’ve been all worried about me. How come?”

  “Because we’re in this together. I think we’re family now, whether we like it or not.”

  “Fair enough.”

  It’s not exactly a Hug me kind of moment, but it’s about as warm a reception as I’ve gotten from her since this whole thing began. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, not wanting her to catch me doing it, as she gazes at the sky, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed.

  “Can I ask you something?”I say after a minute.

  “Sure.”


  “What did you mean when you said ‘physics is eternal’? Do you even remember that?”

  “I remember. It means the universe came with certain rules. We might not know what they all are, but they’re there. The world can be known and understood. Everything can be quantified, eventually. There’re still some big questions. But we’ll get there.”

  “What if what’s happening right now is the answer?”

  “Then we’re fucked.”

  I almost laugh.

  “Alex told me you were an astronomer or something,”she says. “You should know this stuff about time and space.”

  “I can name stars and tell you where to find Venus in the morning. I know where Mars is this time of year. That’s about it. It’s a hobby. I was going to study it after next year because I didn’t know what else to do. I probably would’ve changed it at some point once it got too smart for me.”

  “You’re smart.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, you know, not as smart as me, but . . .”

  “High praise.”I bump my shoulder into hers.

  Selby faintly smirks. “It should be.”

  We both let a long silence grow. When Selby speaks next, it’s as if it is the only thing she can say, the only thing that will make sense.

  “I’m sorry. About your dad.”

  “Thank you.”

  Another pause stretches out.

  Quietly, Selby says, “I don’t know how to find Mars.”

  Somehow, that’s what gets to me. Hurriedly, I point up and start explaining how to find the red planet, because if I don’t, I’ll start crying and never stop.

  34

  Then

  * * *

  I don’t know how long we sat in the dirt as Selby, no longer screaming but still chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”over and over, rocked herself back and forth on the ground. Somehow, I found the strength to crawl over to her and pick her up into a kneeling position. She could not, or would not, meet my eyes.

  “Selby,”I croaked, my voice as raw as sand.

  She began shaking her head, eyes wild. “Sorry, didn’t know, sorry, didn’t know—”

  And so for the first time in my life, I hit a human being. I slapped Selby once across the face, probably not hard because my muscles were next to useless, but enough that she shook herself and stared into my eyes.

  “We’re okay,”I said. Probably the biggest lie I’d ever told up to that point.

  Selby swallowed. Then nodded.

  “You with me?”

  She nodded again, or perhaps shuddered so hard it merely made her head bob.

  I started to climb to my feet, but Selby grabbed me back. “Don’t leave.”

  “I have to check on Charlie,”I said. “Then we’re getting out of here. Okay?”

  “Where’s Alex?”

  I licked my lips, tasted something like black pepper and cinnamon. Tried not to think what it might actually be.

  “He’ll meet up with us later,”I said, my voice shaking.

  To my shock—relatively speaking, of course—Selby accepted that response. She crept backward to the base of the earthen ramp we’d slid down, holding her knees tightly to her chest.

  I stepped slowly and carefully over to Charlie. He’d ended up more or less in the middle of the flat cavern floor, heaving heavily. I dropped down beside him, careful not to let my flashlight crash.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. Then shook his head. Then cried.

  I didn’t move. I put a numb hand on his shoulder and just left it there. I don’t know for how long, but eventually, Charlie’s sobs slowed, then stopped. He raised his head, staring into me with bloodshot eyes.

  “What the fuck,”he stated.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How could they be alive?”

  “They weren’t. Pretty sure about that.”

  “What is this place?”

  “I don’t know. But we need to go.”

  “What about . . . ,”Charlie began, but shut up and looked to his right. Toward Alex. His flashlight, still on, lit up his sneakers and calves, but the rest faded into darkness. A small favor.

  “Can you carry him?”I said.

  “I don’t think so. I can try, but . . . I really don’t think so.”

  I nodded, more anxious to leave than anything else. Maybe that made me a bad person. So what? How bad could Hell be after this?

  “Okay,”I said. “We know how we got down here. With the book. We can give someone directions. Rescue workers. Or whatever.”

  “Yeah,”Charlie mumbled. “Rescue.”

  “Come on,”I said, putting a hand under his arm.

  I lifted, but Charlie mostly stood on his own, which was good. We started to trek back toward where I’d left Selby, but her piercing scream froze us.

  “Help!”

  Charlie and I ran.

  Selby walked in horrific spasms toward the equipment bags. She looked like a marionette resisting its strings, joints haphazardly jutting and jerking forward.

  “I can’t stop, I don’t want to move, help me!”she shrieked.

  “What . . . ,”I said, and couldn’t say any more.

  Selby reached one of the bags and bent over at the waist as if flung into that position by an unseen entity. Still, she cried out to us, “This isn’t me! Please, help! I can’t stop it, it’s not me, help me!”

  Unsure what else to do, Charlie and I ran to her and each grabbed an arm. That lasted all of a half second—she flung us off as if we were motes of dust.

  She—or whatever had ahold of her—unzipped the bag and tossed out an assortment of film and ghost-hunting gear before finding what it wanted: a lock-blade knife.

  “Selby, stop!”Charlie shouted.

  “I can’t!”she shouted back. “Please, make it quit, it hurts, it’s inside, I think, oh God!”

  Charlie tried to tackle her as she spun around with the knife, but Selby backhanded him away effortlessly. Still crying, she slid one foot after another until she reached the center of the smooth floor.

  We followed her, yelling now too, not knowing what else to do. Moving in distinct tweaks, her hands unfolded the knife and raised it high.

  “Help me!”she screamed one last time before the knife came down. It stabbed deep into her abdomen, and she tore it back out.

  “What the fuck?!” Charlie screeched. His eyes showed that he was a man who’d lost all sense of control, and he knew it.

  Blood dripped from the blade onto the floor. In an instant, Selby groaned and keeled over, dropping the knife. Whatever had gotten inside her seemed to have left.

  Charlie and I rushed to her side and got her turned onto her back while blood coursed down her hips and splashed onto the ground. Charlie chanted cuss words. Maybe I did too.

  As Charlie and I both pressed hands against the wound, making Selby cry out, I turned away, not wanting to see the hole in her flesh. Instead I got a good look at the blood-soaked ground and noticed just how smooth the floor really was where the crew and our parents had been digging.

  I pulled my hands away from Selby and shined my light on the ground. Stared at the strangely colored stone. Stone that, now that I studied it, appeared to have cracked in almost perfect horizontal lines. Stone that, if washed and polished up a bit, wouldn’t quite look like stone anymore . . .

  Something like an electrical sensation rippled through my body right then. All the elements of this crazed trip came together in one flash of insight, awe, and disbelief. I’d seen that kind of stone before. In Arizona, as a matter of fact. On a family trip before The Spectre Spectrum ever started, at a national park.

  “Charlie,”I whispered.

  “What, what, what, Jesus, what?”

  “The floor. It’s not rock.”

  “Selby’s bleeding, Abby, help me!”

  But I couldn’t. Not quite yet. They both had their hands on the incision and the blood already had started to slow.

  It t
ook several tries to get out my next words. “It’s petrified wood.”

  Charlie slowly swung his head around to face me. I followed suit to meet his gaze in the reflected light bouncing back at us from the floor.

  “Abby, are . . . you saying—”

  “I think it’s the ark.”

  35

  Now

  * * *

  Selby says she wants to be outside for a while longer, so I go back in alone. When I get to the living room, I hear Charlie still in the shower. Because he’d be unable to hear me, I make a rational, cognitive choice to stop fighting the thing I’ve resisted for so long. I walk down the hall and into my bedroom, wrap myself in the top blanket, and weep into my pillows.

  It physically hurts. Part screaming, part silence from a grief that goes too deep for sound. My entire torso feels compressed from the weight of it all, from the loss and the death. Everything is gone. This is what Dad felt, every day of his life since Mom disappeared. And now both of them are gone for good.

  I don’t know how long I lie there, but when I peel myself up, I see Selby standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She still has a hand pressed against her side.

  “You know,”she says, in such a way I can’t tell how long she’d been waiting there. I also realize the shower has stopped running.

  “Once upon a time, it was a heresy to say the Earth moved around the sun,”Selby says. “But now we know it’s true. When we know true things, we can ask more questions. Find more answers. A lot of things used to look supernatural, like comets. But science proved they weren’t. Maybe that’s all this is. Something we can question and find answers to.”

  I sniff and stand up from the bed, wrapping my arms around myself. “Physics is eternal?”

  “Something like that. And, you know, there’ve got to be all kinds of people all over the world working on this. We’re not alone. We can’t be. We’ll figure something out.”

  “How can you really believe that? After everything?”

  “Because we both know what hopeless looks like. Now, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not going there.”