Mayfly

by Rei Fletcher

  "Even back on the team?"

  "I thought maybe, but you were always dating Bobby." She coughed. "You are?"

  "I guess I am. A little bit. I don't know. I just wondered if that's why you offered to help."

  "I was your team captain. You don't just leave that kind of responsibility behind."

  "You're awesome. Thank you."

  Sarah laughed. "Look, call me, okay? Let me know you're all right."

  "Absolutely."

  She waited for the rattle to disappear, to make sure that Sarah wouldn't follow her, then turned and walked up the street. The sense of malevolence rolled down toward her. Even if the doppelgänger wasn't there, its influence lingered. If anything, the rot had spread into the yard like mould spreading on food. She wished she could warn the neighbours. What the hell could she say, though? She couldn't even explain to her friends.

  She looked up at the house again. Without using the pendant it still looked normal. Had no one missed the family? She could even see the living room lamps through the window, still glowing.

  Her eyes closed. She found the knife in her bag and pulled it out.

  "My name is Charlene. I look like Shirley Temple."

  She stepped up onto the curb and pushed the gate open.

  Chapter 19

  The house remained itself, normal and still. The bodies were in the kitchen, the pooled blood still bright and wet. The steaks in the sink were still cold, still defrosting.

  She searched the ground floor, remembering the layout from her childhood. Nothing moved or turned weird. The door to the basement swung open with the brush of her fingertips. As a kid, she hadn't liked going down there, but subsequent owners had invested the time and money to finish it. There was a rumpus room, with boxes of toys and sports equipment stacked on shelves, and a weight machine, treadmill, and exercise bike.

  At the end of the room was a door. Unlike the bright, pristine white doors that hung in the rest of the house, this one was cheap, fake woodgrain laminate. She walked closer, grateful for the silence of carpet on cement. She reached for the handle then hesitated, and touched the wall instead. Cool paint and drywall, even when she scored it lightly with the hilt of her knife.

  It had the hollowness of a cheap door. The rumpus room was bright and well-tended. The room on the other side of the door was tiny and dark. A small, aluminium-framed window let in a sullen light. A few boxes were stacked in the corner. Threadbare green carpet stretched away at her feet. There was a little nest of blankets and a pillow. It smelled like pee.

  She didn't go in. She knew who lived there. The doppelgänger had stolen her memories and made it: the place where her new life had started.

  She turned her back on it, searching the basement before jogging up the stairs, calling Charlene's name. Either the doppelgänger wasn't there, and it was safe, or it was, and so it didn't matter anyway.

  "Charlene, are you here? I've come to help you." She started up the stairs to the second floor, expecting them to stretch out like they had for her and Ash. The wall under her hand remained normal, and the carpet was only carpet.

  "I know what you think. It wasn't me who brought you here. Please make some noise or something if you can hear me."

  It was my evil twin. That's going to go over well.

  She started opening doors. The first two were kids' bedrooms, dim and empty. The third was a bathroom. When she reached for the doorknob of the fourth the corridor telescoped away into darkness. The breathing wind touched her face. Without thinking she reached for Ash's hand.

  Idiot.

  To believe in love. She touched her fingers to her lips, remembering the feel of Ash's smile.

  I'm sorry.

  She couldn't tell if she was saying it, or hearing it, or if it was both at once.

  She started opening doors. The air grew cold. Her breath clouded into beautiful plumes of silver. Some of the rooms she recognised, but as she went along they became strange.

  "Charlene? You have to tell me where you are." She looked back. She half expected it to be a blank wall. Instead, the stairs were right there, well within view, bright with summer sun, as though she hadn't been walking for an hour. They were inviting her to leave.

  Fuck this place. Right in the goddamn ear.

  She reached for the doorknob, gasping at the icy cold metal that clutched at her skin when she tried to let go. Hardwood flooring stretched out, leading to pale wood cabinets. She recognised the cookie jar on the counter. Always chocolate chip. Charlene's mom made the best cookies. The windows above the counter were full of the flat, iron grey colour of winter sky.

  "Charlene? Hey, Charlene, are you here?"

  Would she even know her? She edged into the kitchen. The furnace kicked in, curtains fluttering above the registers, but the room stayed cold. "Charlene?"

  There was a sound from the pantry. Barely there. She kept her knife at her side, ready just in case.

  The door folded open. Charlene—the Shirley Temple Charlene—looked up at her fearfully. Marianne crouched down.

  "Hey, do you know me?"

  She shook her head.

  "My name is Marianne."

  "Like my friend."

  "Yeah. Just like that. You look cozy in there. Are you playing hide and seek?"

  She shook her head again.

  "Are you hiding?"

  She nodded.

  "Who are you hiding from?"

  Charlene bit her lip and shook her head.

  "It must be scary if you're hiding in the pantry."

  "Ben."

  It was barely a whisper.

  "Is Ben a friend?"

  She nodded.

  "Then why are you hiding from him?"

  "Mom says he's dead."

  "Oh, Charlene, I'm so sorry."

  "He still wants to play."

  "What do you mean?"

  She heard a dragging thump. The blood drained from Charlene's face.

  "He's coming."

  She looked over her shoulder. "He's..."

  A shadow spread around the corner of the cupboards. It collapsed back with another thump, then grew again. Ben appeared. His eyes were red splotches, and his mouth a thick, black line. The rest of his face lacked detail, surrounded by a fur-lined hood. He seemed like a little boy, maybe four years old. She watched as he paused to drag something wetly behind him.

  Charlene cowered back. The boy's face tilted. He began to turn. His body and his legs bulged around the mangled line bisecting him. He pulled himself up onto his hands then thumped down again. It was horrible and strangely absurd: simple as a cartoon.

  "There was an accident?" She touched Charlene's hair. The ruined child didn't seem malicious, exactly.

  "Mom said he got run over by a car." Charlene buried her face against Marianne, fingers clutching at her shirt. Maybe that was it; Charlene's mom wouldn't have shared any details, leaving Charlene to imagine the strange creature.

  Marianne turned and took her hands. She was crying. Marianne wiped her eyes carefully. "Ben was your friend."

  "He's scary."

  "He looks scary, but I promise, he's still your friend." She hoped so. There was another thump, and she felt the stirring of the cold air. A trickle of blood, bright, cherry red, appeared on the hardwood beside her. "What did you do together? What was his favourite toy?"

  "A ball."

  "What colour was the ball?"

  "Blue. It was blue and red and white."

  She heard a bounce, and another, and then it rolled into view. When Charlene didn't move Marianne picked it up. It felt real; she remembered playing with a similar kind of ball when she was young, remembering how the paint cracked and flaked as the rubber grew old. She held it out. Charlene shook her head.

  "It's okay. Promise. He can't hurt you. He just wants to say goodbye."

  Charlene reached out, fingers trembling. Marianne held her breath. The childish fingers passed through the ball and Marianne took her hand. The ball and the blood vanished. The c
old was buffeted back by the humming registers. When she turned Ben was gone.

  "He'll come back."

  "If he does, just remember that he was your friend. He misses you, just like you miss him." She took a shaking breath. In her mind, she saw the chipped paint on her window sill. "But it's okay to say goodbye, and let go."

  She saw how her expression changed. The childishness became confusion. She looked around her old kitchen, reaching out to touch the slats of the pantry door, then stared at her hand and screamed, looking down at her child's body.

  "Charlene it's okay! It's just a memory."

  "You...brought me here! It was you! You kidnapped me!"

  "It wasn't...shit!"

  Charlene pushed past her, racing into the hall. Marianne saw her stumble, all at once becoming her grown-up self as she passed through the door. Marianne sprinted after her.

  She wasn't a good runner. Marianne caught her quickly by the arm, trying to hold her still while she bucked and struggled.

  "Charlene, it wasn't me. It was someone pretending to be me."

  "Screw you!" Charlene brought her knee up, driving all the air out of Marianne, and took off running again, trying all the doors along the way. They didn't open for her as they had for Marianne.

  It's here.

  "Charlene, please. It isn't safe. I'm trying to get you out of here."

  Charlene shook her head, sobbing, pulling frantically at a door. "You kidnapped me you—"

  The door gave way. She looked up and turned white, screaming and backing away.

  "Oh, Charlene. I've been looking everywhere for you."

  She looked from Marianne to the doppelgänger, shaking her head.

  "I don't understand! Oh god. What's going on?"

  "Charlene, get away from her."

  "From me?" The doppelgänger shook its head. "That thing betrayed you."

  Charlene covered her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't understand," she whispered.

  The further I drift…

  "Charlene, listen to me, please."

  She looked up, barely.

  "The me who kidnapped you has an injured shoulder, right?"

  She sniffed and nodded. Marianne pulled her T-shirt down far enough to show off her uninjured shoulder.

  "The me who brought you here didn't have marks on its neck, or a bad voice. The me who brought you here didn't hug you in the car. It wasn't sick at the sight of a flowered wedding dress."

  There was an involuntary twitch of her lips. She looked at the doppelgänger. It wasn't wearing the bloody T-shirt anymore but it held its arm stiffly. Charlene started sliding along the wall toward Marianne.

  "Fair enough. I tried to be nice."

  It moved fast, grabbing Charlene's hand before Marianne could reach her and twisting her arm behind her back.

  "Don't! Don't hurt her."

  "Me? No. I won't hurt her." The door next to them opened. Ice spread across the wall. Charlene screamed and broke down in sobs.

  "Charlene, remember what I said."

  Charlene nodded, still crying.

  "Time to meet your little friend. Isn't that right, Charlene?" Its fingers bit into Charlene's face, turning her face toward the open door. "Isn't that right, Charlene?" It smiled at Marianne. "Our offer is still open."

  "Charlene, it's okay."

  She heard a ball bounce on a hardwood floor.

  "Ben," Charlene whispered, her eyes turning toward Marianne. She nodded encouragingly. "His name was Ben. He was my friend." Her voice was stronger, this time.

  The doppelgänger looked perturbed. "Well, fuck me. We'll do it the uncouth way."

  Its fingers dug into Charlene's throat. Marianne could see them grow sharper.

  "Marianne, please," Charlene whispered.

  Marianne looked down at her knife.

  "Let her go first. I want to see her out of this place. In the real world."

  "You'll fulfil your promise?"

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  The door closed gently. The cold evaporated, leaving a damp patch on the wall, then that, too, vanished.

  "Come along then."

  She walked toward them, holding out her hand. "Charlene…"

  "Ah ah ah. The knife first."

  She tossed it across the floor. The doppelgänger pushed Charlene at her and grabbed the knife in a bit of cloth. Charlene was shaking with fear when she hugged her.

  "It'll be okay."

  The stairs appeared, flooded with summer light from the door at the end of the hall. She helped Charlene navigate when she stumbled going down.

  "Not too far for you, my dear."

  "I know, bitch. Fuck off."

  At the door she stopped. Charlene looked at her, confused.

  "I have to stay."

  "You can't! Mare, you have to come. You have to. This is crazy."

  "I don't want anyone else to be hurt because of...of this."

  "I'll get help. The police or someone."

  "Police won't help. They can't. You'll get in trouble. Just get out of here and go home. Don't let anyone know you were here, okay?" She smiled, feeling the doppelgänger's eyes boring into her. "Go be awesome. Find someone incredible to love who loves you, too."

  "I don't understand." Charlene clung to her hands. She didn't quite look at the house or the doppelgänger. Her fingers felt like ice. "Please, Mare, just come with me."

  "I gotta stay. I promised."

  "Marianne, please!"

  She hugged her again. "My friend. My best friend. I really love you."

  Her mouth firmed into a stubborn pout. "I'll never forget."

  It took a little push to start her off, and it took all of Marianne's strength not to run after her. The doppelgänger's hand came down on her shoulder, followed by the icy burn.

  "Ready to go?"

  "The kids. The ones from the pictures. What did you do to them?"

  "Away at summer camp, the lucky little devils."

  "I'm supposed to believe you?"

  "Want a tour?"

  Would it do any good? It could probably show Marianne what it wanted.

  "I guess you don't have any reason to lie now. You won."

  "So we did. Shall we?"

  I don't want to go. I haven't seen anything yet.

  It was nearing the magic hour. The afternoon stretched the shadows long, and time slowed. The world turned lazy. Marianne followed the doppelgänger to a car. Whose, she didn't know, and didn't want to ask. She looked out the window at the summer-melted streets. Her last look.

  It's beautiful. Imagine how beautiful the rest of the world is if this place can look so good. There must be so much out there.

  "Don't look so sad. It won't hurt."

  "How would you know?"

  "Huh. Fair enough."

  "Are you going to take my place? Really?"

  "I thought I'd hang around. See what this baby thing is like. A human pregnancy that has passed time in our land? I wonder what it will turn out to be. We have lots of work to do, though."

  "You're going to leave?"

  "Do you think this is the only important place in the world? Other gates have opened in their time. They need nourishing. The world is large, and I have a lifetime of work ahead of me. We have to prepare for his return."

  "Return."

  "The world was his, once. Ours."

  "It's like the dinosaurs, isn't it? Your time ended. Ours began."

  "It was a slaughter!" Marianne jumped. "It was a slaughter," the doppelgänger continued more calmly, "with iron and magic. The world was turned away from what it should have been."

  "Full of monsters."

  "We aren't all monsters. We weren't always monsters."

  "All of the pretty parts of that place, the cottonwood tree and stuff? It wasn't real."

  "Imagine what we can become with all of this!"

  The people who'd died, like that mom and her baby, they'd only be the first. There was only Ash, and it seemed like such a tiny hope. For a
long time, it sounded like. She'd probably take the same second chance that Ash had. You could justify lying, maybe, if everything else depended on it.

  They stopped at a light heading down onto the bridge. She contemplated the distance, and if she could run it. Would they retaliate?

  The lock on the door snapped down.

  "Don't get clever."

  The doppelgänger stopped on the side of the road. She saw the sign for the trailer park and the dusting of sawdust clinging to the grass.

  "Don't we have to wait for night?"

  "Not especially. It's late enough already. We have to keep your little vampire from interfering."

  "I don't have anything to do with her anymore."

  The doppelgänger smiled. "Do you think she'd let something as insignificant as you get in the way of her mission?"

  Marianne looked down.

  "Oh, you thought you were something special, didn't you? She got you good."

  "Yeah. Yeah, I believed in love. So fucking what? So what if I believed in a good thing instead of crap for once? What's the fucking point in thinking about the worst things? What's the point of giving up? Never trying for anything better? Never trying to fix things?"

  "What did it get you?"

  The light of the dashboard. Music. Stars. A look. A touch. A perfect moment.

  "Nothing a piece of shit like you would ever understand."

  "Ohhh. Right to the heart." The doppelgänger smiled. "Let's get on with it."

  Chapter 20

  She stood in front of the trees, peering into the grey-green depths. Here and there were flashes of late sunlight. Amidst the green were red mats of pine needles. Beyond it, and in the middle of it, and around it, straining at the seams, was the black that she'd seen over the rooftops.

  "My lord has been busy," the doppelgänger said. Its voice was trembling. It gazed at the gate with shining eyes. Was that how she'd looked at him? It made her sick. All of that blank-eyed adoration.

  "Well? Go ahead. Open it."

  "I don't know how."

  "What?"

  "I don't know how. I've never done it on purpose before. It just sort of...There was a light to greet me and I wanted to go, so I went."

  The doppelgänger laughed. "You're joking. Really?"

  "How would I know? Why would I want to?"