Mayfly

by Rei Fletcher

  "You know who I am. I'm you. A better you." It shook its head. "When was the last time you made your mom laugh? Every time I don't snap at her, she looks a little happier. Of course, she cried when she found out." It patted its stomach. "But she's come around. I'm just so excited about our baby that it's rubbed off on her."

  "You're the thing from that place."

  It bowed mockingly. "Your child, in a way. So really, my baby is your child and grandchild all in one. Weird, isn't it? I figured you'd be smarter than this, letting Bobby's little swimmers reached dock."

  "You're a monster. A lying monster."

  "No more than you are." It shook its finger. "You've been very bad, hurting our poor creatures."

  "They're killing people!"

  "Everything needs to eat." It cocked its head. The wrongness of it kept coming back, new and fresh, making her feel ill. Different than looking in a mirror. Almost unfamiliar. "You aren't doing it alone. We know that."

  "I thought the door was closed. It's stuck closed without me."

  "It is. I came out with the rest of them. It took some time to finish myself. I'd only just learned you."

  "From when I went there."

  "Partly. I was strong enough to follow you here a few times. You can learn a lot about a person by watching them sleep."

  "It was you that night, outside my window."

  "A near miss. I wasn't expecting you to be awake. I was still so new." It frowned. "Only whispers slip through the door, now. You need to open it again."

  "Fuck that. Fuck you."

  "That would be really messed up, Mare. But I have noticed how our body gets revved up around certain people. How you got us knocked up when you really want to fuck Charlene, I'll never know."

  "I do not! I never thought that way about her."

  "Women, though. Eyes and hair and tits and ass. You look, don't you? You hunger and you push it all the way down. You don't want to be one of those people."

  "Shut up."

  "Gaaaaay. Homo. Rug muncher. Dyke—"

  "Shut up!"

  Its eyes were bright with glee. "You glued yourself to the idiot boy so you wouldn't have to be that deplorable thing."

  "He isn't an idiot."

  It howled with laughter. She understood the laugh, and its feeling, so well, and felt herself turn red.

  "You're kidding, right? I'm you. I know exactly what you think. Every nasty, shitty little thing. He's just something to rub against because you're afraid of what you really want."

  "That's...not true."

  It regarded her with patronising pity. "It's going to be hard ignoring all of those urges after you get hitched. But I guess once you have a kid hanging off your tit you won't be thinking about finger-banging your best friend."

  The river of words spoken with calculated malice. Marianne lifted her chin.

  "All you're doing is lying."

  "Me? Come now, Mare. I'm not the one running around behind my mom's back, hunting with a vampire." When Marianne didn't react she looked surprised. "She's told you."

  "I know what she is. I know what I am."

  "Maybe. Maybe."

  "You're lying about everything. Just trying to get to me."

  "Oh, Mare, not about this." Its fingers drummed on its stomach. "When was your last period? I know how tired you've felt. Smells are getting to you. Little things, but you know what they mean."

  She shook her head, feeling her heart drop.

  "We're going to get a look at it today. I suppose you can go, now. I wasn't really looking forward to playing the blissful idiot girl for the doctor. Now I can let you do the heavy lifting. Going to your shitty fast-food job, wasting all those hours with Bobby and Charlene. Honestly, I can't see a single redeeming feature to him. Barely even a starter boyfriend. There had to be better."

  "That's why they didn't wait for me yesterday."

  "Why would they wait for you? I'm the one they made plans with. They're so hungry to spend time with you. You shouldn't be such a snob!" Its laugh sounded plastic. "But you know that he's a nothing, don't you? You were just too scared of being less than nothing without him. Well, now you have him on the hook. Enjoy that! And his parents! Sharon and Don!" Its voice pitched high and mocking. "Shitty taste in curtains. You'll have fun living with that bossy nightmare. Smiling through visiting them was enough to drive me to drink. Oh, but there's no more of that, either."

  "What have you done?"

  "Nothing much. Just given you the best possible future. Actually, I should give this to you, I suppose." It held out the plain, gold ring. Marianne was glued to the spot. It set the ring on the weathered wood.

  She hated gold.

  "The wedding is in a couple of weeks. Just a little one, for now. So the dates are all reasonable. It seems bastardy is still a thing these days. They've decided you'll live with his parents while he goes to university. I imagine he'll be getting his dick wet down south, but you'll have your hands full taking care of your new baby. They say that you're not a real woman until you have one. It's the only real form of love, they say. You'll be very fulfilled."

  "Fuck you."

  "You know, if you just opened the gate again, and honoured your promise, all of this would come to a screeching halt. I'll stay out here, a vanguard for all the glory to come, and you won't have to worry about anything ever again. There's just joy, Marianne, and play. Unending days of play. No one will hurt you or lie to you. You won't feel fear or disappointment. It's contentment. Forever."

  It stood up, stretching. It was wearing one of Marianne's favourite T-shirts.

  "I'll give you a few days to mull the options. Then, I'm afraid, I'll have to force your hand."

  "Where are you going?"

  "Don't worry. Mom's safe for now. I'm going home. I'll come find you when it's time for you to answer."

  It waved and hopped the low picket fence, disappearing down the hill away from the trailer park. Marianne was left with the wind and the distant sound of a train, and the cats that weren't supposed to be here anyway, meowing inside number twelve.

  She hid when her mom came out to call for her. A little later she watched the car depart with a frustrated revving. When Marianne was sure she was gone she crept into the trailer, feeling like an intruder in her own house. She changed and raided her small stash of savings taped under her desk. Just in case, she stuffed a change of clothes in her pack and a few essentials. Nothing seemed normal anymore. She had to be ready for not normal. Then she went to a drug store.

  Mid-afternoon in the adult section of the public library meant that she was largely unbothered. She took the test in a bathroom stall, then she cried: deep, hysterical sobs that turned her raw and made her throw up. She shoved the bag and the test deep into the trash and sat on the floor of the stall, hugging her knees. She berated herself for not seeing, not noticing, not...whatever it was that she was supposed to have done. The weird things people said, the plans she didn't remember. She should have paid better attention. She should have known something was wrong.

  She should have known she was pregnant.

  She felt Ash waking up. It moved her to wash her face and run wet fingers through her hair. She didn't feel better—god, she didn't know what could make her feel better at this point—but more alert. Ash was hurrying, coming closer, and she tried to compose herself. She sat on the bathroom counter, staying where she was so Ash could find her. It wasn't long before there was a little rush of wind and fresh air. Ash appeared, ghost-pale in the bathroom light. Marianne hesitantly held out her arms. Ash held her close as she wrapped her arms and legs around her. All of the hot confusion and fear melted away from the cool of her.

  "Marianne, my darling."

  She shuddered against her. Ash rubbed her back soothingly.

  "All day I felt it. I wanted to come. I'm so sorry you had to pass this time alone."

  "It isn't your fault. It's what you are. And that's okay," she added.

  "What happened?"

  "The
re was someone in my house. She was me. She had my face and my voice. She was there with my mom, and my mom was talking to her like she was me. She told me that she'd been with my friends. She knew everything but she was...was wrong. She felt wrong."

  Ash nodded. "A doppelgänger. I've seen one before. They're very rare."

  "He made it. Out of me."

  She didn't look at the trash. She couldn't. Not yet. It was too much to deal with, just then. She could tell Ash later, maybe, when she'd had time to think.

  "Doppelgängers belong to their makers. If there's one out there, it serves him, and we have to hunt it."

  "Me."

  "It. It might look like you, and share knowledge with you, but it's nothing to do with you. As long as you think it does, it will have power over you."

  She nodded, reassured somehow by not having to share even that little bit of humanity. "It makes me sick to look at it. Like I get dizzy."

  "I'll do it." Ash shivered. Marianne searched her face, seeing the struggle in it. Then Ash gave a firm nod. "I'll kill it, though the thought of hurting anything that looks like you feels a sin."

  Marianne had thought she was afraid, but it wasn't that, and the expression on her face made her feel strange, and something she thought might be happy. She played with the end of Ash's braid.

  Dyke.

  But it didn't seem bad.

  "Should I cut my hair? So you can tell us apart?"

  It was a weak joke; she thought Ash's laugh was partly relief.

  "I'd miss it." She kissed Marianne softly. "When we're done with the doppelgänger we'll move on him. We'll sort out your plan. We'll end him."

  Marianne nodded. Everything else would wait.

  "Do you know where it went?"

  "No. It said it was going home, but it said the door was closed, so I don't think it could be going back there."

  "Did it mean your home? With your ma?"

  "It didn't go there."

  "It's made of you. It shares your memories up to the time that it became itself. Where else would it think of as home?"

  "I don't...Oh. I think…Maybe…where I grew up? Out west of town."

  "Let's go, then, my girl, and see what we can see."

  Driving up the street of her old neighbourhood felt weird. It was like putting a jacket on after summer, and finding out that the creases didn't quite match anymore. She recognised a motor home in one yard, and a boat in another, but not the truck in a third. The evening itself was familiar. The heat was rapidly dissipating, but it was summer, and people were clinging to what day remained. She could smell barbecue. The air still echoed with snicking sounds of lawn sprinklers. There was easy laughter. Somewhere music was playing. The whole neighbourhood was nice. Charlene nice. Bobby nice. Go to university nice.

  It was supposed to be mine. Ours.

  Ash's fingers brushed against hers. Marianne took a steadying breath. That didn't matter, now. Just the other her.

  "It's okay. Just been a long time."

  "Some places are hard to return to." In the shadowy dusk, beneath a rattling birch tree, Ash lifted Marianne's hand and kissed her fingers.

  "It's easier now. I mean, with you."

  The house where she used to live was at the end of a deep cul-de-sac. When they'd lived there it had been like a private road, with no one else around. Since then a few more driveways had sprouted. They'd visited people in houses like that, like hers. After her dad died they didn't visit anymore, and no one came. Everything was different. In the empty living room, her mom swore at people who'd once been friends.

  "My mom didn't deal with it all that well. I guess my dad messed up the finances. And he...Well, people got on with their lives."

  For her and her mom, everything had started rolling back like a car whose engine had given way on a hill. One night her mom had shaken her awake and said they were leaving. Sleepy and confused, she'd followed her to the garage. The minivan was loaded up. She watched the house and all of the inviolate, forever things in her life disappear in the mirror.

  "We're going home. A new, little home, just big enough for the two of us. It's just you and me now." Her breath had smelled of alcohol. "We have to be a team. Can you help your mom?"

  When Marianne said the trailer smelled of pee her mom had slapped her and sent her to what would be her room. She'd slept on the floor, listening to her mom cry, and that'd been that. She guessed the bank must have been after the house at that point, and her mom didn't want to face them or the neighbours. Sneaking away at night was better for her pride. She'd gotten a few loads of possessions out, cramming the trailer, then the minivan was gone, too.

  "I can go on alone."

  "Look what happened to you the last time I let you go alone."

  "Here, now."

  Marianne smiled.

  The cul-de-sac widened, revealing the white stucco fence with its lamps on the gateposts. Number 1778 was well-tended, still nice enough to rival any other house in the neighbourhood. It shocked her to see it, so close to what she remembered, but not quite. The warm glow of lamps reminded her of evenings of playing on the living room floor while her parents watched TV. Its sprinkler was on, making glittering arches above the lawn. Looking with normal eyes there was nothing amiss.

  Looking with the help of the pendant, though…

  "Jesus Christ."

  It bulged and burst and shrank like a time-lapse video of rotting fruit, cycling from chalky grey-white to thick black. It smelled wet and rancid, strong enough to double her over, and she threw up in the bushes.

  "Are you sure you can do it?" Ash smoothed her hair back.

  "Nothing else to come out."

  "Gallows humour. It's a good look." She kissed her cheek.

  "You see it."

  "His creatures spread misery. Evil. Whatever they want, you should want the opposite. That's what you see."

  "The Thin Places are usually nice to look at."

  "Doors are benign, even the one you opened. This isn't a door. It's a nest of sorts."

  "Will it be like those insects?"

  "Doppelgängers are different again."

  "Can we stay together?"

  Ash took her hand. Marianne kissed her fingers like Ash had kissed hers, then looked down, embarrassed.

  "Together, my darling."

  Chapter 14

  "Do you think it knows we're coming?"

  "It wouldn't have told you if it was trying to hide."

  She pulled out her knife, comforted by its weight. The gate swung open silently. Ash slipped ahead, skin flashing in the beams of light from the windows. Marianne waited, nose full of clean green grass and damp flowers. It helped clear the foulness out of her mind.

  Ash waved. She jogged up the stone walkway and steps to join her. As she drew closer she could hear the muffled sound of the TV.

  "Do we ring the bell?"

  Ash lifted her face, like an animal scenting the air. "No one is alive to answer. No one we want."

  "Oh. Shit."

  "Fresh kills. If it's been staying here, it hasn't bothered to hurt them until recently."

  Until me.

  Ash looked at her, kissed her swiftly. It made her feel better. Stronger.

  "Sorry. I probably need a mint."

  A quick hug, then Ash pushed the door open.

  It was evident that something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on why. The TV murmured the news to itself. The entranceway light showed nothing but a tidy, well-vacuumed carpet stretching away down the hall. Her mother's mint green had been replaced by cream. A cluster of unfamiliar faces looked back at her from the wall. A girl in a life preserver sat on a boat. A boy held a baseball bat ready. A family stood in front of Disneyland. A bride and groom wearing terrible 80s clothes posed on a staircase.

  They're dead now.

  The husband and wife were tied to kitchen chairs. Pillowcases covered their faces. Little pools of blood were drying beneath them. She didn't disturb them, leaning down to see what
had happened. Whatever it was, the pillowcases covered all of it.

  "They were caught unawares." Ash held up a package of steaks left to defrost in the sink.

  "There should be two kids. There were two in the pictures in the hall."

  "And a doppelgänger." Ash looked at the ceiling. Marianne remembered the upstairs hallway, for some reason, in the afternoon light, quiet and dim. Four bedrooms. There'd been a guest bedroom, she remembered, and a sort of sewing and office space she had rarely entered, and which had always felt forbidden to her.

  "It's always hard when it's kids."

  Marianne looked at her, then straightened her shoulders.

  "We should probably stick together. In horror movies, the killer picks off the solo people."

  They started up the stairs. The air whispered past them, tugging at Marianne's hair: back and forth, regular and even.

  "You can feel it, right?" she asked.

  "Like breathing." Ash nodded.

  They continued on. With each step a weight grew, pressing down on her shoulders. The air grew denser; her lungs laboured as though she'd been running. There were too many stairs. They kept spawning, up and up, an endless shallow slope of beige carpet.

  "This isn't real," she said. "It can't be."

  Ash kicked at a bit of the carpet. It slipped like raw chicken skin, wrinkling, then shrinking sluggishly back into place.

  Marianne looked at the wall. The paint was a fresh, pale green. It felt like paint under her fingertips, but warm. She scraped at it with the hilt of her knife. The paint ripped open like skin, exposing glistening red flesh beneath. She frowned, leaning closer.

  The wall bulged out toward her.

  "Holy fuck!"

  Ash pulled her away, stepping in front of her.

  "Is it alive?" Marianne asked

  "I don't know. Let's go back down. We aren't ready for this."

  Within a dozen steps they reached the landing, only it wasn't the first floor. It was the second floor, or anyway a hallway that looked like it, but dim and long enough to vanish into darkness. A wet, foul wind passed over them, carrying the sound of crying before the breathing resumed. They shared a look. Marianne really wanted to take her hand again.