Chasm

by Michael Joel Green

  Was he really ready to surrender to this weird-looking goon? Couldn’t he dig deep and find that last-ditch effort inside of him? Was all hope really lost? Daniel got off his butt, wiping his tears as he stood. There was a small but growing sense of belief inside him. Surely there was a way out of this.

  “They are ordinary men,” he whispered, “with extraordinary determination.”

  He studied the surrounding landscape, looking for any possible location outside that could hide the presence of a twelve-year-old boy wearing white sneakers and a red hoodie.

  Outside? A thought was there, just beneath the surface. Outside …?

  Of course. That was it—the mausoleum.

  It was a couple of hundred yards away, on the opposite face of the hillside. He’d hide in the secret stairway. The goon wouldn’t know where to look, and Daniel could stay there the rest of the evening.

  His excitement growing with every stride, Daniel approached the top of the hill, looked down on the back of the building, and almost shouted with excitement—he was going to make it.

  If there was one lesson his father taught them it was to never give up, and he almost had. He remembered his dad saying it. “As long as there is breath in a man’s lungs, there is hope.” Daniel believed it now.

  Not far behind, he heard a loud thud, followed by a droning growl. It was a somber reminder. This was his last chance. Daniel bounded down the hill so fast that he almost tumbled head over feet. His strength was spent and his sides cramping; he’d been running for what felt like hours and all he wanted to do was rest. “Almost there,” he said. “Just keep going.”

  Out of breath, he approached the mausoleum from behind. “All right, this is it, do or die time.” Careful to remain hidden under the mausoleum’s shadow, he walked to the front of the building. “What the heck?” Daniel shouted, gasping for breath.

  The mausoleum was lit up.

  Bright blue light spilled from inside the building, pouring through the doorway cracks and illuminating the facade. Daniel stood helpless, trying to come to grips with what he was seeing. Precious seconds were being wasted, but he was too stunned to act. The light soaked him in its warm incandescence. “I can’t go in there.”

  A voice inside him told him to hurry, to act now, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I can’t go in there,” he repeated.

  The voice inside reassured him that there was no other choice. “But I can’t,” he protested. “I don’t know what it is.”

  Near the top of the hillside, he heard the sharp crackle of leaves. “Oh, no,” said Daniel, petrified. “I don’t know what to do!”

  Only he did know—he was just scared. “Oh, man. This really stinks.” He stepped to the door. “Please help,” he prayed, reaching for the handle. The door opened and an ocean of light gushed forth. “Here goes nothing.”

  And with that, he stepped through the doorway.

  ***

  The man stood at the entrance, a look of quiet rage on his face. He stood motionless, his expression never wavering, then started to walk away.

  “Ouch!” a voice cried from the side of the mausoleum. The man’s head turned in its direction.

  In a split second, he stood towering over Joshua, who was kneeling and rubbing his shin, which he’d injured tripping over a rock. Joshua’s eyes grew wide as he slowly looked up at the giant in front of him. “Huh …?” he exclaimed.

  The man wasted no more time. He pounced on Joshua, grabbing him by the shoulders and lifting him. Joshua screamed as the man held him captive in his arms and carried him to the front of the building. “Help!” Joshua yelled, desperately trying to kick and claw himself free.

  “Let go of me! Somebody help me!”

  Part II

  Chapter 15

  The Old Man

  As the cobwebs cleared, Daniel remembered why he’d been running. Buttface. He turned around, expecting the worst. But there was nothing. Just the ground beneath his feet, which, if his eyes weren’t mistaken, was a completely different color than anything he was used to. A field of white. In every direction.

  In front of him spread a meadow blanketed in snow. It was daylight, and the sun glistened off the white powder. Where was he? Still in Grisby? Not likely. It never snowed in Grisby. Still in California? Maybe he was in Nebraska. But how did he get here? How could he have traveled a thousand miles in the blink of an eye? This was getting way too sci-fi for Daniel. He needed to find out where he was and how to get back to the mausoleum—and in a hurry. He wanted to be long gone by the time Buttface finally figured it out.

  Or, maybe the mausoleum was still there. Maybe he was seeing things, his eyes still blinded by the light. Daniel turned to look. No mausoleum, but what he saw gave him equal fright. There was a large boulder, perhaps six feet high, jutting from the ground in front him. It wasn’t there before, he was sure of it. Equally alarming, sitting on the rock was an old man, and he was staring at Daniel.

  “Nebraska?” the man said. “I’ve never heard of Nebraska, but it sounds like a lovely place.”

  “I’ve never been, either,” Daniel started to say but stopped short. Several questions needed immediate answers: First, who was this person? Second, how did he get here? He and the rock appeared out of thin air. Third, did he pose an immediate threat? Yes, he was a normal man’s height and didn’t have Buttface’s soulless eyes, but he might have fallen from the same family tree. And fourth, how did he know about Nebraska? Daniel had thought the comment; he didn’t say it aloud.

  “The same way you thought that, as well,” the man said.

  Daniel considered running—he had a bad feeling about this—but reconsidered. Where would he go? Besides, if the man could appear out of nowhere atop a six-foot rock, what chance did Daniel have of escaping? Familiarity score: Daniel, 0; old man, 1.

  “Who are you?” Daniel fumbled the words. “And are you going to kill me?”

  “You get right to the point, don’t you. No, I’m not going to kill you. Far from it. I’m more interested in this Buttface to whom you refer.”

  Again, there was the question: how did this man know these things? Daniel observed the person sitting in front of him. The man had long gray hair and wore a frayed brown robe. He looked to be at least eighty; deep wrinkles creased his face. He looks as decrepit as an old rocker. And how in the world did he get up on that rock? Better question, how will he get down?

  “Oh, it won’t be too difficult,” the man said. As sprightly as a lynx, he unfolded his legs and hopped to the ground, landing softly on his sandal-clad feet. The man noted his dismount with satisfaction. “And you’d be amazed how sturdily some rockers are made. Why, I’ve been known to keep a good one around for at least twenty, thirty years.”

  Whoa, I have to give him props for that. For an old person, he’s kept himself in good shape. He must do some sort of cross-training. Probably goes to the gym and works out on the machines that people with bad knees use.

  “Gym? Not sure what that is, but I assure you I’ve never used one. If I can’t find exercise using the land and fresh air, it’s not worth finding, wouldn’t you say?”

  The man turned his back on Daniel and walked across the snow. Daniel watched him leave then switched his focus to a more pressing concern: getting home. He needed to backtrack through the blue light—that is, if he found it. All he saw in any direction was snow—snow, the rock, and the old man, who was already halfway across the meadow.

  As with everything else in his life, it made no sense and Daniel felt fear wash over his body. So this is what being crazy feels like. Josh finally did it to me and he’s not even here to see it. He jumped as the old man placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “How did you do that?” Daniel asked. “You were half a mile away. How’d you get back here so fast?”

  “For a crazy person, you ask very logical questions. Now, shall we try this again? Come along.”

  Daniel walked slowly behind. He wasn’t thrilled to be following t
he old man but it beat standing in the middle of a snowy field, doing nothing. He looked down and watched as his feet sank into the white powder, leaving a trail of his journey. It was then he was struck with a realization: the man was at least thirty yards in front of him but was leaving no footprints in the snow.

  As they journeyed, Daniel scanned the area, but all he saw was the vast expanse of the meadow. He shivered and, in that moment, had another realization. He hadn’t shivered because he was cold. He’d shivered because he was confused. There was snow everywhere, but he wasn’t wet, or even the least bit chilly. Daniel stopped, needing a moment to think. There had to be an explanation for this.

  The way he saw it, there were two options as to what was going on. Either he’d officially lost his mind (not a huge stretch to imagine, at this point) or his eyes were playing tricks on him. It seemed unlikely. He’d gotten his vision tested last month (“Spot-on checkup,” the doctor said). Then again, he’d traveled through a blinding light. No telling what it did to his eyesight. His rods and cones could be all but ruined by now. He hoped it wasn’t permanent.

  Daniel sat on the ground and shut his eyes, wanting to give his rods and cones as much time as they needed to heal themselves. If the old man didn’t like it, he didn’t care. When he opened his eyes, he’d be back to where he was—in Grisby.

  No, he realized, that was a ridiculous wish. That was the last place he wanted to find himself, about to snatched up by a henchman goon. Well, then, when he opened his eyes, he’d be back in Grisby before any of this happened. He’d be stepping onto the bus three days ago, Mrs. Humphries would be Mrs. Humphries (the same comfortable shoes and polyester pants), and life would get back to normal.

  He allowed himself the moment to daydream. If he could open his eyes and be doing anything, anywhere, what would it be? He’d never been to Hawaii. That sounded cool. But it wouldn’t be his top choice. Maybe the World Series or winning a BMX race? Those were good, too, but not the ones he’d choose. Daniel kept his eyes closed and let the silence take over. It was a daydream, but in that moment it felt all too real.

  ***

  The sound filled his mind before he opened his eyes. He recognized it immediately. It was the sound of water. Not the fury of the ocean waves he was accustomed to hearing; this was softer, more peaceful. But that would be impossible. He was sitting in a meadow covered with snow. Daniel lifted his head and opened his eyes. He’d left one dream and gone straight into another.

  A stream lay in front of him, less than five feet away. Its water flowed peacefully over small rocks sparkling under the sunrays. On both sides, a forest surrounded him. A real forest, too. This one was lush and green, and the trees were taller than the redwoods he’d visited. In the distance, he heard birds and small animals (at least he hoped they were small) scurrying in the woods. It was a peaceful sound and, for the moment, everything seemed right. Well, as right as could be under the circumstances.

  “Had I known you were so slow, I would have brought a horse,” a voice said from the distance.

  Oh, no. For a moment, Daniel had forgotten about the old man. Why is he still here?

  “Because you’d never find your way alone.”

  For the record, Daniel didn’t make a habit of speaking rudely to senior citizens. He addressed them as “Sir” or “Ma’am.” He held open the door of restaurants and supermarkets for them. He even once carried an umbrella for an elderly woman in a rain shower. But this man had dug too deeply under his skin—surely he couldn’t be blamed for what he was about to say.

  “That’s it,” said Daniel, turning in the direction of the voice, “you and me are …” But he lost the words. The man was standing on top of the water—perfectly balanced, his robe flowing above the small current. It appeared Daniel had gone crazy, after all.

  Maybe the stream wasn’t as deep as it looked, Daniel thought. Or perhaps the man was a hallucination.

  “A hallucination? You would wish yourself crazy, rather than accept the obvious?”

  “The obvious? Nothing is obvious. Everything is wrong. This place, the lights, the riddles—walking on water. Haven’t you heard of a thing called gravity?”

  “I’ve heard of many things. It doesn’t mean I have to obey them.”

  “Yeah, well, gravity isn’t something that gives us much choice. Now, how are you doing that? There’s got to be an underwater platform, or else you’re using wires.”

  “I assure you, I am not using wires.” The man crossed to the other side of the river and stood on dry ground. He raised an eyebrow, and Daniel swore he saw him grinning from underneath his beard.

  Of course. He doesn’t want me to figure out his trick. If I figure this one out, I’ll figure out the rest. Daniel knelt at the riverbank and peered into the water. Sure enough, it was hardly a few inches deep. Small pebbles lined its bottom. Daniel nodded with satisfaction. With any luck, he’d be home by nightfall.

  “Would you like help crossing the stream?” the man asked.

  “I think it’s you that’s crazy. Of course, I don’t need help. Even my brother can walk in five inches of water without falling.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Daniel stepped into the stream. “Do I need help? What kind of ridiculous question is that? Does he think I’m so lame that I can’t—”

  Water rushed over Daniel. He flailed in the stream, searching for footing along the bottom; however, finding none, he swam in the direction he’d come from until he felt sand under his feet. He stood, soaking wet.

  “You did that on purpose. Why didn’t you tell me there was a drop-off?”

  “I asked if you would like assistance.”

  Daniel wrung water from his shirt. “Well, you still could have warned me.”

  “We need to get moving. Follow me.”

  “And how do you propose I do that? You’re on the other side of the stream.”

  “By listening,” the man said, “as I point out the stepping stones you will use to cross the stream.”

  Chapter 16

  The Memory Snoop

  Daniel stepped to the shore and removed his sneakers. He turned one upside down and a stream of water poured from it. He did the same with the other then carried them into the clearing, where the old man was sitting on a tree stump. He was turned to his side and it sounded to Daniel like he was mumbling. Daniel listened intently but was certain it was something people his age did. The man would probably nod off any minute.

  Daniel leaned against the bark of a nearby tree, adjusting himself until it was bearable, then returned his attention to the old man, who was still mumbling and had taken to writing in the air. The man was definitely a few cookies short of a dozen. He was moving his finger in the air and using it as… As what, Daniel wondered, a pencil? Whatever it was, he was definitely focused on what he was doing, like he was working out a math problem or something.

  He felt embarrassed for believing the old man had actually walked on the water. There had been a logical explanation—an unseen rock path—and so it would be with the other riddles. He’d find the explanation and everything would return to normal. “That’s funny,” Daniel whispered. “Nothing in my life has been normal since—”

  “Since what?” the man said, standing next to Daniel by the tree.

  Daniel jumped to his feet and fell back a few steps. “How the heck did you do that? As a matter of fact, how are you doing all of this?” Daniel waved his hand toward the forest. “Where did the snow go, and how did this get here? I want to know what’s going on.”

  “But am I not a hallucination?”

  “I don’t know what you are. But right now you’re all I’ve got to work with, so start talking.”

  “You are very strange,” the man said. He raised an eyebrow and looked directly into Daniel’s eyes. For a second, Daniel thought he felt the man snooping inside his brain. He tried to break the man’s gaze but couldn’t, as he was fixated on the man’s eyes. They were blue, like crystal, and Daniel reali
zed he wasn’t looking at them—he was looking into them.

  ***

  Daniel had never been hypnotized before so he didn’t know what it felt like. But if he had to guess, he’d probably say it felt like this. The old man was exploring his mind like a jigsaw puzzle—picking up pieces (or, in this case, his memories), studying them, then looking for the right place to put them down again. It was a weird feeling for him, and also an embarrassing one. Some memories are best kept secret.

  The man had come across some of his more … well, ground-worthy activities, and Daniel was powerless to stop him. “I can explain that one,” he tried to tell the old man but found he couldn’t speak. Or else he would have informed him that letting the air out of the neighbor’s tires was Shawn Hudson’s idea, not his. He was just an innocent bystander.

  “Actually, he’s not even my friend. He’s kind of a jerk.”

  Daniel groaned as the old man flipped to another memory—the fireworks in old lady McCormick’s mailbox. He couldn’t explain that one. The old man had a smirk on his face and Daniel felt himself blush. He hoped the man wouldn’t tell his mom.

  This was getting worse by the second. So what if he’d done a few questionable things? Did the old man have to enjoy himself so much at his expense? Daniel ordered him to stop, but of course it did no good and the man kept right on going, leaving no pebble (or memory) unturned. The man’s eyes twinkled.

  Wait a second. I don’t remember this one. Is that me?

  The old man came across a memory Daniel had forgotten about. What was weirder, it seemed to be the one he was looking for. Daniel watched the scene unfold, as the images of that night turned from fuzzy to clear, and it all came back to him. The night of the parade, and Sheriff Meisner.

  It was the annual Thanksgiving Day parade. All the floats had been made, everything was ready to go. This year, the parade was making its way downtown to the Grisby Library, where a big celebration was planned. Only thing was, to get there they had to travel down Ford Street, the steepest road in town. No big deal, right? Except for one problem: Daniel knew something was wrong. He’d glimpsed it in his mind.