Then I was in the procedure room again, stripped naked and strapped to the chair and staring at that one blemish on the white wall. There were several people around me, but there was no show of giving me injections this time or scientific fanfare of any kind. I wanted to ask questions, but I found I couldn’t speak, and no one would speak to me. So I was left staring at that dirty spot on the far wall, and at first I thought it was my imagination that it was growing larger. But no, it was, or at least the white was disappearing as the wall slid away to reveal a black tunnel.
Suddenly, Mr. Aller was beside the chair. He glanced down at me, his smile cold. “Welcome to Tier Three.”
Someone behind me began to roll the chair forward into the yawning darkness. I felt hot air that smelled of sulfur buffeting my face as we cleared the threshold of the room, leaving behind the clean precision of the modern clinic for the rough-hewn dark walls of volcanic rock that surrounded us on every side. There were five of us including Aller, and the three attendants all had flashlights clipped to their shirts now, the jostled illumination dancing back and forth across the slowly deepening tunnel as we progressed further out and down.
I wish I could say I don’t remember any of this, but I do, at least for now. I also remember when the tunnel finally flattened out and widened into a stone chamber that seemed impossibly large. The walls to either side were only ten or twelve feet away, but they seemed to run ahead of us and upward forever, far higher than should be possible considering how deep I thought we must be. And the walls themselves were pocked with row after row of holes that appeared to be tunnels half the size of the one we had just left. I had the thought of a beehive, though I knew it was a bad comparison.
I was more afraid at that moment than I had ever been, more than I ever thought I could be. I found myself hoping I would just die from being afraid, but it was just me lying to myself again. I wasn’t going to die, and I could still be much more afraid.
They turned and began to push me toward one of the smaller tunnels, and as we grew closer I saw something moving in that deeper dark. I was so transfixed by trying to see what we were approaching that I almost didn’t hear Aller talking to me again.
“Back in 1783, there were a series of volcanic eruptions near here. It lasted for eight months, if you can believe it. Killed many people, you know. Famine and fluoride poisoning mainly, though some died of other causes.” My eyes were still fixed on the indistinct shape coming closer, but I heard him chuckle. “Many people call it Skaftareldar. A few of us know it meant much more than just fire and destruction.”
The chair had stopped moving now and I was able to make out the dim outlines of the thing before us. Its sides appeared to be a deep, slick red that resembled a brightly-colored slug. I had no way of knowing how large it was, because its undulating length went back into the darkness without end. My eyes kept wanting to avoid looking at what I assumed was its head, a mass of hard, deeper crimson flesh and squid-like arms that were run through with jagged calcifications of black stone that endlessly dripped a thick, white fluid from the wounds the rocks had produced. As the first drop of that hit my bare skin, I felt my leg begin to go numb.
“This place, these wonderful beings, no one knows for sure if they were always here and just awoke during the eruption, or if their arrival actually caused Skaftareldar. What we do know is that soon after the eruptions died down, the first of us discovered newly opened caves that led us to this blessed place. Ever since, we have helped them with their work and reaped the bounty of their wisdom.”
I felt the first tendrils of the thing climbing my body, touching my legs and groin almost gingerly as it made its way toward my head. I felt like I was going insane, but then I suddenly spoke, my voice calm as it uttered words not my own. “What is their work?”
My head turned toward Aller, who was looking down at me with a smirk. “Glad you asked. Why it’s the study of the human soul.” I felt the tentacles of the creature coiling around my neck and head, holding me fast toward Aller as he went on.
“They want to see what it takes to shape a soul. To refine it or break it. Are they immutable, or can they be changed through experiences? Ideas? Different beliefs?” Aller looked over at the thing above me with some mixture of love and admiration. “In past centuries, these studies have taken many forms, but lately there has been a focus on the effect of convincing someone of a false past. Can you make a person better or worse by giving them memories that they had a better or worse life than they actually had? Can you make a person more virtuous or depraved simply by making them believe they have been so in the past?”
He looked back to me. “These are the questions we are working to answer. But there are many, many of these beings, you see, and we are always running out of participants in our experiment.” He frowned slightly. “And before you think us unfair, we really do try to be even-handed. We have people that we make much happier by erasing bad memories and creating better replacements. It’s just…well, there has to be a group that is pushed toward darker extremes, and unfortunately for you, that’s the lot you’ve drawn.”
I wanted to say more, but then the world went white, then red, then dark. When I woke up, I was back in my apartment. I remember several more things now. Terrible things I can’t even bring myself to write. Not that I think it will matter much longer anyway.
You see, I’ve been looking back over what I’ve written, and I already don’t remember most of it. I started writing this to create a record, but how much will it help me if I can’t recall the truth of it and no one else will believe me? I’m surprised I could even write it at all, but perhaps they know the pointlessness of it and so they don’t mind. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I feel like I’m being dissolved—boiled away in a stew of false memories I can’t discern and strange impulses I don’t understand. But what will be left when the boiling is done? What will be the shape of my soul when they are done refining it?
I only hope that if they find the monster they are looking for, there is not enough of me left to see it.
The Extra House
I’ve always known I’m bad. Mama and Papa try to be good to me, but I always make them mad. It always scares me when they get mad, and I don’t like how it hurts, but the worst part is how sad they look when it’s over. When they tell me how disappointed they are. How they wish I would stop making them do this. If I could only be smarter and better like my older brother, Thomas. Or at the least, learn to listen and stay out of the way.
I really do try, but it never works. I always mess up something.
We’ve always lived in the great white house since I can remember. It had belonged to our grandparents before they died, and Thomas says that it was really nice back then. It seems nice enough to me now, but Thomas tells me it’s a dump. That it started rotting the moment I was born. He says stuff like that to me all the time, but not around Mama and Papa. Around them he’s always so bright and sweet. I’ve learned to try and avoid being alone with Thomas, but it never works out that way. He’s so much bigger and stronger and smarter than I am, and he likes it too much. When he hurts me, he never looks sad. He just grins and grins.
There is a big field behind our house. I think at one time my grandparents farmed it, but now it’s just mainly rocks and weeds. I’ll slip away to the field when no one notices, which is often enough, and I like playing by myself anyway. I figure if they forget about me, maybe I won’t make them so mad and sad anymore.
But one day when I stepped into the back yard, I saw the field was different. There was an extra house back there, just like ours. Well, not just like ours. It was bright white and clean, with neatly trimmed hedges and beautiful flowers lining the walk up to the front porch. There were no vines growing over the columns, and all the shutters looked like they had been painted and hung just right. I felt my heart flutter happily at the sight of it, but I also knew I must be in a dream. Not wanting it to end yet, I walked up the path and to the front doo
r.
It really was amazing. Everything was the same, but not the same at all. The wood of the door almost glowed with some kind of varnish or lacquer, and I finally got to see the large brass doorknocker that had been gone from our front door for as long as I could remember. The thought of our house made me look back, and I half expected my house to be gone. But it still sat there, faded and gray, looking worn out and shabby next to this miracle.
Still, I felt my stomach starting to rumble with worry at the strangeness of all this. I pinched myself, thinking it might wake me up, but nothing happened. This was all too real and too clear. It wasn’t a dream after all, and that scared me a little. I started backing back down the porch steps when the front door suddenly opened.
It was Mama, except it wasn’t. This woman looked twenty years younger, with none of the deep lines or yellowed skin that set Mama’s face into a permanent, weary scowl. This woman was beautiful, and she was smiling at me. Telling me to come in, come in, they had been waiting for me. Her voice sounded like music, and despite my earlier fear, I found myself following her inside.
My heart leapt at what I saw there. Papa, a younger, kinder-eyed Papa, was coming down the stairs and sweeping me up in a hug before I could react. My first impulse was to freeze, hoping that by being still and quiet, I wouldn’t do anything to make them upset. But then I heard him laughing as he danced around with me, and I realized he wasn’t holding me roughly at all. And there was Thomas, looking at me like he was really happy to see me, not just wearing a fake face until we were alone and he could give me that sly, awful grin. And the room he was coming from wasn’t dark and filled with junk and trash. It, and the entire house, was filled with good smells and light.
And love.
That was the thing that struck me the most. I could feel the love radiating from this other version of my family. It seemed to touch everything like some kind of warmth, and I could feel it seeping into my skin as they hugged me and led me into the living room. They sat me down and took turns talking, telling me how happy they were to see me, how glad they were that I had come. That’s when I heard the floor creak behind me. I turned around to find a girl that looked like me standing there.
I felt another moment of panic at the strangeness of it all, but then she was around the sofa and on me, hugging me tightly as she laughed. She whispered in my ear that this was the best day ever now, and that we would be just like sisters, forever and ever. I knew I was crying, but it was only because my heart was so full and happy.
It was hard when I had to leave and go back to my old house that afternoon. I didn’t want to go, but the new Papa said I had to for now. That I had to keep them and that house a secret until I could stay with them for good. I asked how long it would be, and he said not long at all. In the meantime, the new Mama said, I should come and stay every day as long as I wanted, just so long as I made it back to my old house before I’d be missed.
The next three days were both wonderful and terrible. I’d start the day scared the extra house would be gone and then excited when I saw it out my window. I’d end the day sad I had to leave them and anxious for the next day to come. It also was getting harder and harder to understand why my old family treated me like they did. I knew I wasn’t smart and pretty and good like the other me, but my new family still seemed to love me a lot and treated me wonderfully. Why couldn’t my old family be like that?
Maybe that’s why I acted pert with Papa one morning.
He had hit me for being slow to the table, calling me a stupid, dirty little thing. Normally I would have just lowered my head and sat down quietly, hoping to make myself small enough and quiet enough that he would forget me. But this time I looked up at him. I asked why he treated me like that. That he ought not to do that.
I knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left my lips. His eyes blazed to life as he grabbed for me, and I only barely stumbled out of his reach. Mama had overheard and was heading for me too, but I was quick and headed for the back door. I could hear them yelling behind me, telling me to come back or it would be worse, but I knew better than to stop. I hit the yard with my belly aching, a sour mixture growing there of sadness and fear and the terrible sureness that my new house would finally be gone.
But it was there, and what’s more, my new family was already coming down from the porch to meet me. I ran to my new Papa, feeling a surge of relief and gratitude when I reached his legs and felt his comforting hand patting my shoulder. When I looked back, I saw that my old Mama and Papa were in the back yard now, but they had slowed to a stop. They were looking at me, but they seemed to finally be able to see my new family and the extra house too.
They looked terrified.
“Baby, baby girl…Oh God, what is that? What are those…come away from that thing…” My old Papa’s voice was high and shrill, and his eyes were rolling in his head like a scared cow.
“Shit, Milly, get...fuck, how does it move like…come here now…” Old Mama was shielding her eyes now like she was looking into the sun, and after another moment they were both backing away. Old Thomas had started to come outside at the commotion, but before he could reach the yard, Old Mama and Papa were running back inside with him in tow.
My new Papa looked down at me with a smile. “Don’t you worry about them, Milly. You go on in the house. Me and your mama are going to go sort them out.” He tapped me lightly on the nose and started walking toward the old house with my new Mama even as my new brother and sister took my hands and led me inside my new home. They were laughing and hugging me, saying I could finally stay with them forever.
****
That night was the happiest I’ve ever been. Mama and Papa came back a bit later and we had a big party. They said it was to celebrate me coming to stay. We played games and ate good food and nobody got mad or got hurt. It was after midnight when we finally went to bed, and I found out I got to have my own room right next to my new sister’s.
Just like the rest of the house, it was like something out of a dream. The walls were painted with jungles and animals, and the ceiling looked like a beautiful night sky filled with stars. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to sleep, but my new bed was so warm and soft, it wasn’t long before I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
When I woke up, it was still dark, but I could see a little from the moonlight coming in through the window. My new family was around me, kneeling down along the sides of my bed. I didn’t understand why at first, and wondered if it was some new funny game. Then I realized their mouths were on my legs and arms. They were biting me a little. It didn’t hurt, but I still felt a bolt of fear that caused me to sit up and let out a small scream.
They all stopped and looked at me, their eyes shiny and their mouths glistening in the silvery light. Mama patted my arm comfortingly.
“It’s all right, honey. We’re not going to hurt you. We love you.”
My new sister giggled. “We just need a little bit from you so we can stay. So we can all be together always.”
Papa nodded in agreement before looking at me. “Isn’t that what you want, sweetheart? To stay with us forever?”
I was already nodding as he finished asking the question, and within seconds of lying back down, I was somehow back asleep.
The next morning I looked out at my old house and saw it looked different. Instead of just looking worn down, it looked like it was rotting or drying up somehow, like an old apple left out in the sun. By the third day it had started to collapse in on itself, and within a week it had blown away like forgotten autumn leaves.
I love my new life here. Sometimes I get very tired, and lately I feel almost like…I’m stretched thin. But that’s okay. It’s only some of the time, and it’s a small price to pay to help my new family. I love them so much.
And they love me.
“If you were to eat me, what part would you start with?”
I know it sounds like a strange question. A silly attempt at being macabre. But that was the q
uestion that changed everything and opened the door to my new life.
I had been married to Tony for six months when we finally got to take our honeymoon. We both enjoyed the outdoors, but he had talked for years about taking a bigger, more “extreme” trip. The kind of deal where you get dropped off and you don’t see anyone again for two weeks.
I was nervous about it from the start, but he assured me everything would be fine. We had a very clear plan: Get dropped off ten miles from Whitetooth river, hike the first day and set up camp near the banks. Raft down the second and third day, making camp as we went. After that, we were hiking across the wilderness toward the mountains until we hit national park grounds on day ten and our rendezvous at a ranger station on day twelve.
I pointed out that the longest either of us had been camping before was less than a week, and while we had visited the area before, we had never camped or rafted there. Tony countered by pointing out all the studying up he had done on the area and survival techniques, and when I looked unconvinced, he told me that his parents were getting us a satellite phone for the trip as well. If we got tired of it or ran into a problem, we could always pull the plug on the adventure early.
Pushing my concerns aside, I smiled and nodded.
****
The second day of rafting, we capsized. We had both been rafting before, and the water had been slow and mild the first day. But a night full of rain—and a portion of the river filled with rocks—made the second day hard going from the start. We had been at it for less than an hour when a sudden drop onto a stony shelf less than a foot under the water sent us flying. We were wearing vests and knew to point our feet in the direction the river was taking us, but it was all we could do to stay close to each other as we tried to make our way to a safe spot for both of us to get out of the water.
Incarnata Page 5