by A. M. Shine
Mina heard the door slam. Then, in the corridor that heightened every sound, there was silence. Madeline must have ventured outside again. She wasn’t in the habit of letting them know where she was going, and Mina knew there was no point in asking her. No matter where Madeline went, she was always back before the bulb clicked on.
There was scarce natural light in the living room but the fire had reacted warmly to Madeline’s efforts, and its orange glow now flooded across the floor, splashing giddy shadows on the walls. Without the wisp of a breeze to steal away its heat, the air there was a novel reprieve from what Mina had been used to. Her hair was still damp, and her boots were as wet inside as they were out. She was glad that Madeline hadn’t noticed how cold she had gotten during her trip to the spring. There would have been some stern words and a cautionary wag of her bony finger.
Mina spread her blanket down in front of the fireplace, flittering off any clingy twigs, and she sat, cherishing a heat that was always hottest against the eyes. Each sock was peeled from her feet. The tear in the left one was worse than before. Mina tried to rub some feeling back into her toes. Thanks to Madeline’s fire they would soon wiggle more freely. A few sparks leapt from the pit, but so clammy was the blanket that they dissolved in an instant, dead on arrival.
Mina trained her ear towards the coop. There wasn’t a sound. Ciara had probably collapsed back into bed. It was as though her built-in battery never fully charged. Maybe that’s why she rarely spoke anymore. Not that the rest of them were overly loquacious. They all lived in such close proximity and yet seldom interacted. But this had its advantages, such as this moment. There was no one to disturb her, and she would hear the door if anybody were coming. Peace and warmth. Mina could hardly believe her luck.
She took out her sketchbook, wiped it clean with some secret sense of ceremony and leaned towards the fire so that its paper was laminated in light, enriching all that white with the warmest tones. Its pages housed the myriad faces that she had come to regard as friends. They were links to her past life, to happiness, and to the city that went on without her. She often wondered if anyone ever asked where she had gone. Peter was probably still ranting on about how she had scarpered off with his money, telling anyone who would listen. Not that many would. Maybe he missed her for that reason.
Mina’s memory was photographic. But the photos faded over time. The details were dulled, obscured by a static that no mental tuning could clear. She had tried to draw Jennifer but couldn’t do her justice. Though the resemblance was uncanny – identical to the layman’s eye – it wasn’t the Jennifer she remembered. The intimacy between the artist and the subject was absent. Mina’s sister had never felt so distant nor so lost. A large X had been scrawled over the imposter’s face.
She had sketched the only faces available to her. Gone were the days when she would scour the street for that perfect one. Beggars can’t be choosers, as her mum used to say, and Mina would sooner draw a dozen pictures of the parrot than do a self-portrait.
The coop’s residents each looked so different on paper. Mina’s past subjects, for the most part, had been strangers, and there was an element of invention in realising their personalities without interfering. But after a month of their company – close and compulsory – they were no longer strangers to Mina. She saw through the transparency of the physical and interpreted instead the truth and those distinctions that defined them.
Daniel’s face was older, even in the short time she had known him. It reminded Mina of the fantasy novels she had read as a teenager, and more specifically of the immortal ones. Those who by curse or choosing could not age and yet the years they garnered became an unmistakable part of them. They were especially noticeable in and around the eyes, and Daniel’s were the coldest blue. On paper he was dauntless. Behind those gritted, mismatched teeth there was courage; the strongest kind, braced by suffering. The face was handsome. It could be trusted. He may not have been a man, as Madeline so often reminded him. But he was certainly not a boy. Not anymore.
Ciara’s beauty had changed since the first night they met. Her kindness and the capacity to conceive and expect kindness from others, this purity had emanated through her. The eyes gleamed and the pale skin shone. She was, through her innocence, fragile, and had been targeted by Madeline for this very reason. But Ciara’s sadness had given her strength. Her rage was the red, hot steel and her tears were the waters that quenched it. She stood by her principles like a knight given to die by her sword. She guarded the truth and the memory of her betrayal. Ciara’s was a tragic kind of beauty now because there was simply no kindness left.
Madeline, whose ragged features and scowl would give children nightmares, had changed, too, in Mina’s eyes. She was the great misunderstood. The dark clouds that drowned out the sun. The locked door that kept them as prisoners. She was the most unlikable woman Mina had ever met. But being liked was never a concern for Madeline.
She occupied more pages than the rest. Her exanimate features reminded Mina of the android who lived in the same sketchbook. She had taken to studying Madeline, layering her face with many lifetimes of experience, only to reduce it all to nothing – restoring the youth and the beauty that the woodland had divested from her. There were still glimmers of her younger self. It was the Madeline that didn’t surrender when a million others would have; that rebellious decision to survive when the world couldn’t give her a reason. Somewhere, inside her, there was a stubborn teenager who hated everything, but accepted that that’s all there was.
Mina turned over to the sketchbook’s back page, to the map of the woodland that was slowly expanding. Their home – she had to stop saying that – was drawn in its centre. As the days went by and more burrows were discovered, its location on the page became more significant. The pits extended from the building in lines, straight and plotted. If the remaining lineaments were consistent with the ones that Mina had recorded, they formed a circle, like the rings on a tree, with the coop directly in its centre.
They were aligned too perfectly to have been made by chance, and hinted at an underground network, a system of passages constructed with purpose and precision. Mina had linked these burrows together. Tracing, with the lightest hand, a pattern; a spider’s web that, like a witless housefly, she hadn’t seen until it was too late. To think of that day when she blundered into the forest still gave her chills. Had she stopped to take another rest, even for one minute, she would never have made it, and nobody would ever have known what had happened to her.
Mina gave her sock a gentle squeeze. She wasn’t wearing them anytime soon. But there was still an hour, maybe more, before nightfall. It was impossible to tell. For all she knew the light could switch on at any second. Should the worst come to be, she would roll them dry in her hands and be barefoot for a spell. Madeline would throw her a look of annoyance, as was her wont, but Mina knew that she wouldn’t voice it. The woman didn’t need words to get her message across. That frown did all the talking for her.
Just then, the front door opened and slammed shut with deafening force. Mina hid away her sketchbook and grabbed the second sock from in front of the fire. She could hear anxious, strained breathing that could only be Daniel’s. She knew in an instant that something terrible had happened.
‘I made it,’ she heard him gasp. ‘Oh God, what am I doing?’
11
Daniel
Daniel ran through the forest. Like a wild animal released he didn’t look back. Not once. Toils of ivy snagged his legs. With his hands he fended off barbs of thorns and the wet stems that whipped across his face. He knew the way, but his haste had scattered his bearings. His was a compass spinning in dizzying circles. The trees seemed to shift through the earth, blocking his path, throwing their bodies in front of him as though they had been gifted life and worked their branches like limbs to ensnare him. It was a maze; a darkening, ill-lit labyrinth where decay and dying things ruled supreme. Madeline was still calling his name. She was chasing him, but in
that moment – driven by sheer fear – he was faster.
His breathing was loud and erratic. He muttered senseless sounds that even he couldn’t understand. Panic had gripped Daniel hard with the intent to break him, but instead it threw him forward. He had veered from the route he knew. Despite everything that stood in his way, still he kept one eye on the ground. Some burrows were wide enough to catch at a glance, but others he wouldn’t see until it was too late; until he slipped from the light and fell within their reach. He fought back his tears, but their coming was inevitable.
Daniel hadn’t planned this. His movements – so swift, so instinctive – had surprised even himself. It was a moment of madness; an impetuous act that he was already regretting. Madeline had dropped the keys as she tinkered with one of the traps. He was looking away, but he had heard their soft jangle on the ground. She didn’t rush to pick them up. She never suspected that Daniel would grab them and make a run for it. Up until it happened, he wouldn’t have expected it either.
His foot collided with the root of a tree, sending him sprawling forward. The pain shot through his ankle like an arrowhead. Though he winced, and his whole body sunk into that wet blackness, his hand still clutched the keys. There was no turning back now. He had outrun Madeline’s voice, but she was still following him. Daniel just had to get back to the coop before she did. Otherwise, his efforts would all be for nothing.
She was just like his father. Nothing Daniel ever did was good enough. He had been told he was useless so many times that he had started to believe it. No words were ever kind. Everything he did was watched by eyes that wanted him to fail.
He just wanted a home, somewhere safe, where he could be himself without some dirty hand always pushing or slapping him. He would never set a foot in his father’s house again. Filth and neglect had orbited the old man’s chair facing the television. Nothing there was ever clean or worked the way it should have. The air smelt of stale beer and cigarette ash. Be it the windows or the oven or the cracked bathroom sink, everything – including Daniel – was broken, and his father had no interest in fixing any of it.
He squeezed the keys in his fist so hard it hurt. The old man was probably glad when he left, or else he simply didn’t care. One swing – that’s all Daniel wanted; just enough pain to make his father remember him.
Daniel was getting closer. He had run for so long that the coop had to be nearby. A fresh dread grew inside of him. Had he taken a wrong turn? What if Madeline was already there, waiting for him?
He was always afraid and he was always ashamed. His father had never loved him. He never even liked him. And when his mother died there was no reason to hide the fact. Daniel had left in the hope of finding a better life, and instead he had found Madeline. He couldn’t take it anymore. It had to end. That’s why he stole the keys. That’s why he ran.
The coop came into sight, like a ray of sunshine on the darkest day. Nothing ever played out the way he wanted it to. He had learned to meet disappointment like an old friend. But Daniel was going to make it. He hadn’t lost his way, and to think that Madeline could have overtaken him was absurd. He clenched the keys harder; his knuckles whitening around them. When he reached its door, he hurled it shut behind him. ‘I made it,’ he gasped. ‘Oh God, what am I doing?’ He raced down the corridor. There he saw Mina, sitting on her blanket, drying her socks.
‘Danny?’ she said, wide-eyed and curious. ‘What’s going on?’
12
Mina
Daniel was struggling to catch his breath. He leaned in, one hand on the doorframe, trying to keep his body upright, but he was wilting. The other held Madeline’s keys.
‘Come on, Mina,’ he panted. ‘Get into the coop.’
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘The light isn’t on yet.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Where’s Ciara? Is she in there now?’
‘She’s asleep. Well, I think she is,’ Mina replied, rising to her feet, still holding her socks. ‘Danny, what’s going on? Where’s Madeline?’
‘I’m locking her out,’ he said, dangling the keys in the half-light of the doorway. ‘Come on, hurry. She’ll be here any second.’
Daniel was a nervous wreck on the best of days. But Mina had never seen him like this.
‘Danny,’ she said quietly. ‘You have to calm down, okay? We’re not locking Madeline outside. Something’s happened, hasn’t it? So, tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Quickly, Mina,’ he shouted, backing into the corridor. ‘Get inside!’
‘Danny,’ she repeated, more sternly, ‘we’re not fucking locking her outside. Have you lost it or something?’
The front door was thrown open and Daniel disappeared into the coop, closing its door behind him. Mina heard him fumbling with its locks. Madeline came storming down the corridor and began beating her heavy hands against it. Mina’s intuition had been correct. Something terrible had happened.
‘Daniel,’ Madeline screeched, ‘you open this door at once!’
She hadn’t even looked to the living room, and had no idea that Mina was standing there.
‘Madeline,’ she said, to which she turned. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Daniel’s taken my keys,’ she replied. ‘He’s not thinking straight. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.’
‘How long do we have before the light comes on?’ she asked.
‘Ten minutes,’ Madeline replied, ‘maybe less.’
If the woman was worried, she had a gift for hiding it. Mina had never stood on that side of the coop’s door when it was locked. It was darker than she was used to. The bulb that had once dangled in the corridor had been smashed during the storm. No light graced the empty window frames. Everything, with the exception of the fire and its surrounding influence, was black and impermeable. Ten minutes was being optimistic. Mina was surprised that the light hadn’t clicked on already.
‘What have you done?’ she asked.
‘What have I done?’ Madeline replied, pacing towards her. ‘I haven’t done anything. I keep those keys safe for this very reason, Mina. The two of them, they’ve been conspiring against us, waiting for their chance.’
Had there been any mutinous whispers between Daniel and Ciara, Mina would have known. The two so rarely spoke to each other that any synergy – even that of a secretive sort – couldn’t have passed unnoticed. And besides, if their plan had been to discard Madeline to the darkness, why wouldn’t they have taken her with them? What had Mina done to deserve being banished to the night?
Madeline stood aside and gestured Mina towards the door. The woman’s face smouldered like a stone gargoyle in the firelight. There was no doubt in Mina’s mind that this was all Madeline’s doing. She had probably been too hard on the boy. That was her way after all. Her words crashed against him relentlessly, eroding Daniel away, day by day. Maybe the last piece of him – the sensitive, caring chunk that was his best – finally broke off and floated away.
‘Daniel,’ Mina called out, drawing her head close to the door. ‘Daniel, I know that you’re upset. But we don’t have much time. If you would open the door, we can talk about this, and we can work out whatever it is that’s wrong, okay? Whatever Madeline’s done, she’ll apologise for it, and we’ll all sit down and see if we can make this better. How does that sound?’
Mina waited. She looked back to Madeline’s silhouette in the doorway, fringed with amber light, unmoving.
‘Daniel,’ Mina repeated, ‘can you hear…’
‘She’s not coming in,’ he interjected.
Daniel was far too upset to tackle with reasoning. Even if he did regret locking them out, the thought of what Madeline would do to him now was enough to keep that door from ever opening. Mina couldn’t think straight. Every thought was overshadowed by the image of a clock counting down to the end. They should already have been inside.
‘Ciara,’ Mina shouted. ‘Can you hear me, Ciara?’
No reply came, just the crackling of the fire in the next
room and the shuffling of Madeline’s feet as she edged closer. Mina wasn’t surprised by Ciara’s silence. Out of the two of them, Daniel was their only chance. In the weeks since John’s abandonment, Ciara’s hatred for them hadn’t dissipated. It was possible that all of this was her idea, and that Daniel was her patsy, coaxed into exacting her revenge.
‘What do we do?’ Mina whispered to Madeline.
‘There’s nothing we can do,’ she replied.
The light clicked on. It illuminated the door’s frame with the thinnest white outline. Their time was up.
‘Daniel!’ Mina shouted. ‘Open this fucking door.’
‘Shush,’ Madeline whispered sharply. ‘Don’t make a sound. Follow me.’
The woman’s body disappeared down the darkness of the corridor. Then there came the slightest succession of clicks and slides as she placed the front door’s locks in place. Even without any light to guide her hands, she knew them each intimately. Mina crept towards her, losing all sight of herself as she withdrew from the light.
Her fears throve on the darkness. It pained her to put each foot forward, stepping into that black void, vulnerable to the horrors gathering around them. She wanted to call out to Madeline for some reassurance that she was not alone, but the slightest sound would have drawn the watchers to them. Then she felt those bony hands feeling along her arm. Madeline laced her fingers through Mina’s. With the gentlest tug she drew her down to the floor by the locked door, and there they huddled together, both staring towards the corridor’s end and the orange glow that brushed across it.
It never entered Mina’s mind that Daniel would leave them outside. He was so weak and manageable. To think that he could submit them both to this fate, it didn’t seem real.
‘Don’t scream,’ Madeline whispered, so close to her ear that she could feel every sound. ‘Close your eyes and ignore everything you hear.’ Here her hand tensed tighter around Mina’s. ‘It’ll be okay.’