After Ever (16 page)

The door to my old classroom is easy to spot. After all it has turned bright red and is glowing silvery gold around the edges. I use the wall to the right of the door to stop my forward momentum and crash into it shoulder first. The force of the impact bounces me into Sam, who reels back with a muffled ‘oomph’ and clutches his arm to his chest.  

Sprint to the door: check.

I roll along the wall until I am directly in front of the door. My hands brace on either side of the frame. Light pulsates from it, bathing my face in an otherworldly glow. My fingers stretch out…

“Win, DUCK!”

I don’t think, I just react. My knees buckle and I collapse to the floor. A whistle cuts through the air right where my head was. Plaster and painted brick fly as Craven’s wrench connects with the wall. With an ear deafening roar he rips it free. Out of the corner of my eye I see him swing it over one shoulder, like a batter stepping up the plate. His beady black eyes roll wildly in his mangled face.

Falling forward onto my hands and knees I scramble to the side as he brings the massive wrench down again. It hits the floor to the left of my defenseless body with the force of a miniature earthquake, splitting the carpet down to the gray cement beneath. I think I scream. I’m not sure. I tell my body to get up. I order my legs to stand. I demand my arms push me forward. Nothing works. I am frozen. Again.

Craven hauls the wrench up. He is so close that when a boil on his chest bursts it sprays me with blood and puss. I gag. Throaty heckling fills the air. Craven’s throat convulses, sending the laughter out through the hole that acts as his mouth.

“Oh God,” I whimper. I drop back onto my haunches, using the wall to support me. My hands splay out; a last ditch attempt to protect my face. My eyes close. I am too much of a coward to witness my death a second time. The wrench whistles through the air as it begins its descent…

The sound of metal crunching into bone is sickening. I force my eyes open and look down at my body, expecting to see myself cleaved in two. Dazedly I see I am in one piece. When a keening howl of agony rips through the hallway I realize what has happened.

Sam took the blow intended for me. Sam, whose knee is bent in the wrong direction and face is a horrible mask of pain as he staggers past.

“The door,” he moans as he fights to balance on his one good leg. “Get to the door.”

I surge to my feet, using the wall as a springboard. Craven turns in an uncertain circle, unable to choose who to go after.

“Over here, you bastard!” Sam shouts.

While Craven was deciding which one of us to pulverize first Sam has fought his way across the hall and is swaying in front of the art room. He doesn’t look good. The wrench not only caught his leg, it must have glanced off his ribcage as well, crushing the organs within. His entire body is collapsed to one side. Blood dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. Our eyes meet, mine filled with horror, his with steely determination.
Go
, he mouths.
Go now.

Craven swings towards Sam, leaving the Origin door unguarded. My heart slams up into my throat. I hesitate.

“WINNIFRED, GO!”

My lips part on an anguished cry. “I can’t leave you here.”

“Yes,” Sam grits out, “you can.”

Craven stops in the middle of the hallway. He must sense Sam no longer presents a threat. Slowly, dragging the wrench behind him, he turns back towards me. It’s now or never. Stay or go. Fight or flight. Live or die. 

I lunge towards the red door and throw it open. Light bursts free, so bright it blinds me. I gasp and try to pull away, but invisible hands are drawing me forward. The door slams shut behind me, extinguishing the light, and once again I am free falling into darkness.

Go through the door: check.

Leave Sam behind to be ripped limb from limb: double check.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I land harder than I did the last time I jumped through a door. Springs squeak underneath me, cushioning my fall. Disoriented, I remain absolutely still and concentrate on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. My eyes drift close and I see Sam, broken and bleeding. With a jolt I sit up and allow my legs to dangle down towards the floor while I take a closer look at my surroundings.

I am sitting on a hospital gurney. It – along with everything else in the small room – is white. White walls, white ceiling, white floor tiles. The lack of color is blinding in it’s intensity.

“Hello?” I call out tentatively. My voice echoes against the sterile walls and bounces back at me. Paper crinkles as my fingers wrap around the edges of the thin mattress. There is something odd about this room. Something not quite right. I look around again, searching for something, anything, that would give me a clue as to where I am. That’s when I see what is wrong. There is no door. No window. No way in or out. I am not in a room. I’m in an ivory prison cell.

Claustrophobia hits me hard. I double forward, gasping for breath. My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow, but my throat constricts, refusing to let anything down. Frantic now, I start to jump down off the bed. The voices stop me before my feet hit the floor.

“Poor dear. She’s absolutely exhausted. Look at her.” It is the voice of an old woman. Wispy and filled with sympathy. I whip around, my eyes darting left and right. Drawing my legs up to my chest I scoot to the middle of the mattress and remain perfectly still, my head cocked to the side, listening.

“Well she can’t stay here very long. I have things to do.” A second voice, this one brisk and to the point. Female again, but not nearly as kind as the first.

“Oh, let her rest before you send her back.”

“Fine, fine… as if I don’t have enough to do.” The second woman sighs. “How do you think the Unknown found them so quickly?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, it just seems a little odd…”

“Perhaps,” the first voice acknowledges. “…of coincidence… think.”

“…really? Highly… impossible…”

Their voices being to fade, as if they are walking away. I close my eyes, straining to hear more, but they have gone and I’m alone.

I spend the next hour trying to find a way out of my prison. At least I think it is an hour. Time does not exist here. There is absolutely no sense of it passing, only a brief memory of how it felt when it
used
to pass and even that is fading. What does a minute feel like? Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour?

My hands curl into fists of frustration as my search yields nothing save raw knuckles from pounding against the wall. I am sealed off completely from whatever is beyond this place, with no visible way in and certainly no way out.

I circle the room like a caged animal, going around and around the gurney so many times I have to change directions before I get dizzy. I need to find a way back to Sam. I need to find a way to save him, before the guilt from leaving him behind devours me from the inside out.    

Suddenly an idea strikes me, so obvious and clear that I shake my head at my own stupidity. Of course. Why didn’t I think of it before?

Facing away from the gurney, I stare hard at one of the empty walls. My face tightens with concentration as I begin to visualize my elementary school, drawing on memories old and new. The maroon and white gymnasium. The library. The janitor’s closet. Sam, braced against the art room—

“If you are trying to make a Jump Door, dear, it will not work in here,” a familiar voice says kindly.

I whirl around. My jaw drops. Sitting on the gurney, her mile long legs crossed demurely at the ankles, is the woman whose voice I heard earlier. Except this woman does not belong to such an old, grandmotherly voice. No, this woman belongs on the cover of Vogue.

She is tall and thin, with flawless skin the color of dark chocolate. Her black hair is sheared close to her skull, which only serves to accentuate her high cheekbones, gleaming almond shaped eyes, and teeth that would make a dentist swoon with delight. Her tailored white suit hugs her body, ending just past her elbows and above her ankles to reveal feet that are bare and toenails that have been painted a bright pink.

“A little much, is it not?” she asks me. Her perfect lips curve into a rueful smile. “I am just trying it out for a little while. Honestly, it is a bit too high maintenance for my taste.” Thoughtfully she taps the side of her face. When she drops her finger an ugly mole has appeared, marring the smooth perfection of her cheek. “Better?” she says, flashing a mega watt smile.

“Who – how did you – what are you…” At a loss for words, I bite my lip and fall silent.

“Silly me. I did not introduce myself, did I?” The room echoes with her laughter. It ripples through the air, wind chimes on velvet. “My name is Elysia. You may call me Ellie if you wish. Much more modern, do you not agree? And you must be Winnifred. Or do you prefer Win? Winnie? Fred, perhaps?” 

“Win is fine,” I say dazedly.

“Win it is then,” Ellie says, nodding. “Now Win, I have to ask – and please excuse me if this comes across as a bit rude – but why are you not resting? Solace rooms are quite hard to come by, you know. Why, this is the first one I have been in for over three decades!” She gazes at me expectantly, waiting for my answer, but I have no answer to give. My mouth opens. Closes. Helpless, I shrug my shoulders and do my best not to stare.

Until now it has been deceptively easy to think of the After as a normal place. My old classroom, my tree house, my hometown… all things that were familiar. All things that I had seen before. The Unknown was a bit of a shock, but even Craven in all his bloody glory is nothing compared to this woman who has appeared out of thin air. Some part of me understands without needing to be told that she is different. She is, for lack of a better word,
more
. More than me. More than Sam. More than human.

“This must be quite overwhelming for you,” says Ellie, her voice ripe with sympathy. Unwinding her legs she slides to the edge of the gurney and props her elbows on her knees, then her chin on her hands. “Do not worry, dear. I am not here to hurt you. I want to help you, actually. You really should sit down. You are looking a bit pale.” Her fingers snap and just like that a red leather chair fit for a Queen appears in the middle of the room. “Sit, sit,” she says, gesturing towards the chair with an elegant flick of her wrist. “It will not bite.”

I do as she asks. The leather is buttery smooth and my fingers can’t help but stroke across the rounded armrests.

“Lovely, is it not? That chair once belonged to a Duke, you know. Very stodgy old man. No sense of humor.”

“Why is it here?” I ask. 

“Why?” Ellie echoes. One dark eyebrow arches. “I believe you mean how, my dear Win. How could a chair that was burned to ash in the Great London Fire of sixteen hundred and sixty six be here in this room?”

I sink lower into the cushion and tuck one of my legs up. “
How
could a chair that was burned to ash in the Great London Fire of sixteen hundred and sixty six be here in this room?” I repeat verbatim.

“What an excellent question!” Ellie beams. “Alas, I cannot give you the answer you seek. I do applaud your effort, however. Yours in a question few have thought to ask. For that, you are to be rewarded.”

The woman, I decide silently, is mad as a hatter.

Ellie tosses her head back, exposing the slim column of her throat. “I shall grant you one door, to where ever you wish to go.”

Doors. I have had enough doors to last a lifetime. The last door I went through was supposed to bring me back to the hallway and instead it dropped me here, a white walled cell with no way out. “No thank you,” I say politely.

Ellie’s lips pucker out in surprise. “Are you certain?”

I nod. Yes, I am certain.

“Very well… If that is your choice…” She leaps gracefully off the gurney and lands on her toes. Standing, she towers over me and I have to crane my neck up to look her in the eye. “Is that you final decision, then?” she asks.

Something in her tone warns me to reconsider. I hesitate, not sure what to do. If Sam was here, he would know. And just like that, my decision is made. “This door – it will take me anywhere?”

Ellie nods. “Yes, anywhere past or present. Any memory you can conjure, any place you have ever read about or yearned to visit. It really is a fabulous gift,” she says, looking rather pleased with herself.

“But I thought Jump Doors couldn’t take you somewhere you haven’t been. And you said before that they don’t work in here.”

The corners of her mouth tighten with amusement. “I said I would grant you one door. I did not say what kind. Jump Doors are only the beginning, my dear. Stepping stones, if you will. Certainly useful, but alas, filled with limitations.”  

They really need to come up with a handbook for this place. “So you’re saying I could see my dad? My brother, Brian?” Something coils in my stomach. My throat constricts. “Or my mom?” I manage to ask in a strangled whisper.

“You cannot simultaneously visit the past and the present,” Ellie says slowly. Something flickers in the depths of her eyes – disappointment? annoyance? – but it is gone before it has time to take hold. “Many in the After choose to return to the present to see those they have left behind. I assume your guide has told you our most sacred law?”

“Don’t interfere with the lives of the living.”

“Very good. Well, if that is your request then please stand and–”

“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted. I just asked if I could.” Sweat coats my palms. I rub them on my knees before clasping my hands together and interlocking my fingers. I draw in a deep breath. Exhale slowly through my nose. What the hell am I doing?
The right thing
, I tell myself determinedly. For once, I am doing the right thing. “I want to go back to Sam.”

“Back to Sam?” Ellie repeats. Her head tilts to the side. Enormous gold hoop earrings that I would swear were not there a minute ago shimmer in the harsh fluorescent light. “Did you not just leave him?”

“Yeah, I did.” And the pain from the guilt is like a punch to the gut. Quick at first, then slow moving through the rest of my body until every fiber of my being aches from it. “But I shouldn’t have. I mean, he’s my guide,” I say hastily, less Ellie get the wrong impression. “And he told me to go. Well, actually he told me go back to the hallway. I don’t know how I ended up here in this sole – solar – uh…”