by Lizzy Ford
Or the rampant imagination of a bored kid?
The three moons are overhead in a pale morning sky. They’re definitely closing in on one another.
I’m warm, pressed to the sleeping stranger behind me. He’s too relaxed – and quiet – to be awake. His breathing is deep, and he clings to me like I used to clutch my teddy bear when sleeping. I don’t want to disturb him, partially because I don’t know if I can handle his snark before I’ve gotten some coffee.
But also because … I like this. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met, sexier than young Josh Brolin and Billy Idol combined, which is really saying something. I want to know more about the inexplicable bond between Evil-Jared and me – but am also uneasy about what I’ll discover. I have a feeling it’s much more than either of us is prepared to deal with.
The sense of being where I belong remains this morning. It wasn’t just exhaustion.
I’m not going through betrayal or heartache or loss or suffering ever again. I’m not taking a chance on anyone again and can’t afford to be attracted to him. Evil-Jared and I are destined to become enemies at some point if I have to stop him from taking over the galaxy once we reach the mysterious ring everyone wants.
I check the mood ring to make sure we aren’t in danger. It’s blue. I’m not sure what that means, but as long as it’s not black or muddy brown, I’m not going to worry.
With a sigh, I start to inch away from Evil-Jared. We’re on a tight deadline and trapped in a shifting reality. The chances of us reaching the mountain aren’t good, and sleeping in won’t help.
Evil-Jared’s grip tightens around me briefly before his breathing changes, and he starts to wake up. I wait. I used to do the same to my koala bear before waking up.
I could really use a toothbrush or some mouthwash. My mouth feels icky.
“I am not a morning person,” he grumbles.
“I am,” I reply in my most cheerful voice. “Let’s go!”
I inch away from him again. This time, he gives and rolls onto his back.
Sitting up, I stretch my upper body and run my fingers through my hair.
“Oh, my god,” I mutter and pull my hand away from my hair in disgust. “Did you drool on me in your sleep?”
So much for a romantic experience.
“I’m not complaining about you snoring,” he responds sleepily.
“Whatever.”
I’m not sore from sleeping on the uneven stones, which comes as a welcome surprise. I rub my face. When my hands drop, a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash sits beside me.
“Awesome.” I pick it up.
Evil-Jared has slung his arm over his eyes and appears ready to fall asleep again. As sexy as he is, sprawled out on his back, I’m concerned about what happens if the moons align before we’ve survived this damn maze. I want to go home.
“Come on,” I say and nudge him. “I’ll find the Ring on my own.”
He lifts his arm enough to glare at me.
I smile and stand.
“What are you wearing?” he asks.
I’m dressed in an ACDC t-shirt and MC Hammer harem pants. They’re pink with white leopard print.
Evil-Jared wears his classy space uniform that shows off his body in a complimentary way.
I look like I got trapped in a tent and couldn’t find my way out. My shoes have changed, too, into all-white Reeboks with pumps.
“Dammit,” I mutter. “Why the hell do I get the embarrassing clothes?”
“You resemble a kite,” he says and sits up. He frowns. “What’s a kite?”
“You really don’t know what you’re saying half the time, do you?”
“The words are unfamiliar but feel appropriate,” he replies defensively.
He’s too frustrated to be faking it.
“A kite is this thing that flies,” I explain vaguely.
“A spaceship?”
“Do I look like a spaceship?” I retort, offended.
Evil-Jared smiles. It’s a genuine smile – the first I’ve seen from him.
Which is weird. I want to continue considering him a two-dimensional villain. It’s hard when he cuddles with me at night and smiles at me like he’s … well, real.
Sexy heroes don’t drool, I remind myself.
“Stop it,” I order him.
“Stop what?”
I turn my back to him and gaze around expectantly. Mouthwash was waiting for me. Is it too much to ask for coffee, too? While waiting, I swish mouthwash around my mouth and note the different colors displayed by the mood ring when I face different directions.
I spit the mouthwash out and hand the bottle to Evil-Jared, who stands.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “The ring says that way is black.” I indicate the path ahead of us. “That way is red.”
“Red wins. Again,” he says with faux innocence.
“Look who woke up with a personality.”
“And a crick in my neck from keeping you warm.”
We stare at one another. I don’t think he meant to say that, and I don’t want to hear it.
“Let’s jet,” he says abruptly and begins walking down the red path.
Every once in a while, I wonder if our connection is from the past – or the future. Because sometimes, I think spending time with him might make me like him more than I want to.
Then I smell it.
“Oh, thank god!” I exclaim and breathe in deeply. I trot past him, following my nose to an intersection and turning right.
“Check the –”
“I’d die for a cup of coffee,” I cut him off.
When I see the barista in a corner, preparing coffee from an espresso machine located on a cart, I pause. The barista is a gremlin with huge ears, tufted hair, and ruby lipstick. She’s wearing a dress beneath an apron.
“Is that real?” I ask Evil-Jared.
“It’s not a zombie.”
I glance at him. If he didn’t need me, I wouldn’t trust that tone. I approach with some caution. My mood ring is blue. I’m starting to believe that means safe.
“Hi,” I say to the barista. “Can I get a mocha?”
“Totally!” she replies with a smile.
I wait somewhat apprehensively, uncertain what to expect from the maze. Nothing has been what it seems, and I’m afraid my precious coffee will betray me.
“What is this? Mocha?” Evil-Jared asks, scrutinizing the coffee gremlin as she works.
“It’s good. He’ll have one, too,” I say to the gremlin. “Double shots for both.”
“Of course!” the mocha gremlin replies cheerfully. “Where’re you two headed today?”
“To the fortress at the middle of the labyrinth,” I reply. “Have any advice for reaching it?”
“Be careful,” she says and then laughs.
“Great advice,” Evil-Jared responds sarcastically. “Which path is the least dangerous?”
She pauses in her mocha making duties. “The way you came,” she replies after a second.
“Is that metaphoric or literal?” I question.
“Sometimes in order to go forward, you have to go back.”
It’s either profoundly philosophical – or utter nonsense, which describes everything about this damn quest I’m on.
“How far back?” Evil-Jared appears to be mulling over the advice as well.
“To the beginning.”
“Which beginning?” he and I ask simultaneously.
“There’s only one, and you haven’t reached it yet,” she responds in the same chipper tone. “Here you go!” She hands us our drinks.
I smell mine closely before taking a sip.
It’s really a mocha. A good one.
Evil-Jared is more cautious and takes off the top, rolls the cup back and forth and finally drinks. He doesn’t spit it out, which I take as a good sign.
I check our different directions with the mood ring once more. He peers over my shoulder, and I stare at the mood ring without seeing it, distracted by his presen
ce.
“It’s green,” he prods.
“I know.” I check another way. “Hmm. They’re all green.” I turn to ask the mocha gremlin which way she recommends.
She’s gone, and so is her cart. Thank god, I still have my mocha.
“How can we not have reached the beginning?” Evil-Jared voices the same thought on my mind.
“I don’t know.” I start forward, towards where I think the middle of the maze might be. I’m too turned around to have much faith in my choice. Everything looks the same.
“When she talked about the beginning, she must be talking about us. Not the maze,” Evil-Jared muses.
“Why do you think that?” I question.
“I feel it.” He’s troubled. “Don’t you think it’s important to figure out why?”
“I think we should focus on reaching the ring. If that happens, and if we make it out of this place, then we can talk about it,” I reply moodily.
“Talk about what?”
“The beginning. The end. Whatever.”
I concentrate on my mocha. Soon, it works its magic, and my crankiness disappears. When we’re done, we leave our empty cups beside the path.
The morning, like the evening, seems to take forever. The moons don’t move, and we wander through the labyrinth for a couple of hours without any way to gauge our progress.
We reach the coffee cups.
“We’re going in circles,” I say. “But how?”
He frowns. “Let me pick the directions this time.”
Three hours later, we’re right back at the coffee cups.
“What if the cups are moving?” I ponder aloud. “We’re making progress and for some reason, they’re moving, too.”
“How do we prove it?” he asks. “Nothing changes around us. Not even the sky.”
“The farther we go, the farther away we get.”
He studies me. “Then let’s go back the way we came. Towards the beginning.”
We do.
An hour later, we reach an intersection different in appearance than the others. At the center are three doors, each one labeled with a number.
“This can’t be good,” I say. “You see them, right?”
“I do.” He walks around the doors, which appear to be suspended in midair and lead to nowhere.
“Do we pick one or continue walking?”
“We’re getting nowhere walking,” he replies. “What does the ring say?”
I test each door. They all read as yellow. Evil-Jared stands beside me, gazing at the doors with no small amount of distrust.
“Wait. I know the middle one,” I say. “It’s a wardrobe door. From The Lion, The Witch and … never mind.”
Evil-Jared has no idea what I’m talking about.
“I recognize this one,” he says and gestures to the third door. “A door from my space cruiser.”
“Do you recognize the third? Because I don’t,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Where does your door lead?” he asks.
“Into a land of perpetual winter ruled by an evil queen.”
“Mine goes to the dungeon. Equally undesirable.”
I go to the door marked with a one. “Looks like you win.” I hesitate to open it. This will either be very good, or very bad, and I’m not leaning towards good after what I’ve experienced here.
As if sensing my uncertainty, or perhaps feeling his own, Evil-Jared takes my hand.
I glance at him.
He’s not looking at me.
It feels like we’ve gone from a contentious boys-have-cooties kindergarten level friendship to maybe fifth grade. Holding hands was serious business then.
“Here goes.” I open the door. Darkness is behind it. I see nothing, smell nothing, feel nothing. Heart pounding, I squeeze his hand and step through the doorway.
The forest. Not the one ruled by an evil witch, but my forest, where I grew up. I’m standing in what used to be my backyard, in the area I witnessed from my room onboard the spaceship. The air is crisp, and snowflakes tumble straight down from white clouds. The forest green branches of pine trees appear almost black in contrast to the pristine snow.
There’s no noise aside from my breathing. Tiny pricks of cold touch my exposed face and arms as snowflakes land.
“Snow,” Evil-Jared’s voice is hushed.
“Yeah.” When I turn, the double A-frame house I’m expecting to see isn’t there. The woods stretch in every direction.
“What is this place?”
“I’m not sure,” I reply, puzzled. “It’s familiar but not accurate.”
“Like my dream. I see this and nothing more, except ...” He releases my hand and takes a step away, towards the forest.
“Wait. Don’t go too far!” I say, afraid to leave this spot, in case we can somehow exit through the same door.
Jared isn’t listening. Snow crunching beneath his feet, he walks into the forest, through trees, over stumps, as if he knows exactly where he’s going.
The forest is identical on every side. Each step takes me exactly to where I was. I’m on a treadmill of sorts, walking without going anywhere.
“This isn’t right,” I breathe and then shiver. I’m dressed for anything but winter. Coldness seeps into my shoes.
“This is it,” he says softly. “This is what I saw.”
I reach him. We’re standing exactly where we were when we stepped through the door.
“What?” I ask, unable to tell the difference in the forest. Everything looks the same.
“There.”
I feel it again – the tingle of something too familiar not to be imaginary. This should mean something to me. He should mean something to me, for it’s not just the forest that resonates within me.
“The answer is there,” Jared says. He’s starting to shiver, too. “We just have to find it.” He’s staring, entranced, at nothing.
Snow. There was something captivating about it. While he’d seen it in a dream, he’d never experienced it before stepping through the door.
The space knight looked from the footsteps in the snow up to the hill they’d climbed. Two sets of footprints, children’s, from their size. Bright drops of blood splashed alongside one set. He followed the footsteps toward the hill. His body filled with adrenaline and his heart raced.
He was about to learn the truth, the ultimate answer. But to what question?
Breaking into a sprint, Dark Invader climbed the hill through snow that grew gradually deeper, until it reached his waist and slowed his progress. He pressed on, breathing hard, determined to reach the peak of the hill and see where the children had gone.
He staggered to the top of the hill and stopped, gasping in air.
The footprints continued down the other side and up a second hill, headed in a direction where he saw no real destination, except more forest.
The bright drops of blood were now a trickle.
“There’s nothing here but trees and snow,” someone said. He felt the presence without seeing anyone.
“If we keep going, we’ll find it,” he replied.
“We can’t stay here long. We’ll freeze to death.”
He was cold. His fingers and toes were quickly becoming numb. “I’m not leaving before I understand,” he sad resolutely.
“Understand what?”
“I don’t know. It.”
“You’re not making sense!” cried the voice.
“I’m almost there.”
“Whatever it is you think you’re seeing, it’s not there,” the voice claimed. “Remember the zombie? You saw it and I didn’t. You’re seeing something I don’t. It’s not real.”
A memory drifted through his thoughts.
“Zombie,” the voice repeated.
Someone took his hands. Warmth crept up his arms.
“I’m real. Whatever you see isn’t,” the voice said. Someone squeezed his hands. The world around him began to change. The footsteps disappeared, along with the blood and hills. He w
as back where he’d been when he entered through the door.
He squeezed the hands holding his and gazed at the speaker, whose concerned blue eyes were on his features. Her nose was red, and she shivered from cold.
“Zombie,” he repeated. “I remember that.”
“Exactly.”
He clenched his jaw. No footsteps were anywhere in sight. Whatever he’d seen, it was gone and probably had never existed at all.
But if it was fake, why had the footsteps hit him like a blow, familiar and frightening at the same time?
“Stay with me,” Elf urged him. “Come on.” She tugged his hands and stepped away from the direction he wanted to go, drawing him with her. He hesitated before yielding.
He held her gaze, and the silence between them grew heavy. Snow fell faster around them. He was no longer fighting the instinct that wanted him to stay with her. Had he noticed her simple beauty before? Why did this place feel as if they both belonged here?
Realizing we’re still holding hands, I release him and hug myself. But I can’t look away when he regards me with this intensity. My skin is cold, my insides warm. I don’t know if he’s seeing me or some part of his hallucination.
A girl can hope he’s interested enough to purposely look at me like that.
“Are you cold?” he asks at last.
“No,” I say through chattering teeth.
He smiles faintly and lifts his gaze. “You’re stubborn.”
“I could’ve left your ass here.”
“Harsh, babe.”
The awkward quiet falls again.
Something jabs me in the arm. I rub it.
It happens again, this time harder. “Ow,” I mutter.
A spot of blood wells up.
The world around me slides out of focus and then into darkness.
A sharp poke penetrates my slumber. I shift and start to fall asleep again. It comes again, this time harder.
“Ouch,” I mumble as the poke comes a third time and open one eye.
A creature no more than eighteen inches tall stands in front of me, armed with a spear.
I’m not in the snow world. I’m lying on the ground, in Jared’s arms, in the same place where we woke up earlier, as if we didn’t wake up earlier at all.