10: Following the Dead

I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exits; and ‘tis found
They go on such strange geometrical hinges,
You may open them both ways: any way, for heaven-sake

John Webster

“Holy crap on a cracker and call it a biscuit!” Paul exclaimed, dancing around holding Peg’s hands after they’d exited the brownstone and walked down the pristine, tree-lined street a short distance. “You did it! I said you were magical, but this was a friggin’ miracle. When we met, I saw something in you, something that said you were a survivor. But after so long, with so many I’ve tried helping being sucked under, I was afraid to care. Terrified of opening up and admitting I have any feelings left.

“But you did it! You not only convinced Tabby to offer us a way out, you found a permanent home for all three of us and included Adrian in the deal!”

“It was nothing,” Peg said, waving his effusive praise aside, blushing profusely. “You did all the work. You provided the contacts, helped me survive and supported me while I bluffed my way through the past week. All I did was tell a few stories and pull a couple clever tricks. Abby and Adrian ran with it.”

“We know that’s not true. I’ve been struggling for years, barely holding my head above water, and soon to lose the boyish looks that kept me afloat this long. In only a week, you found everyone a lifelong home with the only people I’ve ever trusted.” Paul briefly glanced at Adrian before continuing.

“I thought Abby might fast track an orphanage admission, hopelessly hoping she’d somehow arrange a custody hearing, but you pulled off the biggest big-city miracle I’ve ever witnessed.”

“He’s right,” Adrian said, dropping to his knees and embracing them both. “Not only did you convince Abby and Bea to bet their brownstone and commit federal fraud, you swept their friends off their feet, convincing them to commit the next couple decades raising you. I’ve been marking time, hoping I could find a way out for Paul and me, yet it never materialized. Now you’ve convinced me we can win over my crusty, cold-hearted father.”

“Look, I’m excited too, but there’s still a lot to do,” she argued, struggling to constrain the grin threatening to split her face. “Assuming this works, there’s lots of legal details to iron out. While you’re sitting pretty, I still have several issues to resolve. Don’t forget, neither of our families are likely to surrender their paternal rights.” Paul’s broad smile faded as he stepped back, his eyes blurring. “Until I resolve Frank’s role in Jason’s death, and convince my mother to care, I’m not yet ready to rejoice.”

“Well, despite both your continued reservations, this deserves the biggest party I can afford. Hop in and let’s pig out. You certainly deserve a celebration for the outstanding performance you just turned in!”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Paul pressed.

“Absolutely,” Peg said. “With my survival relatively secure, I need to deal with this. It’ll impact everything going forward.”

“But you were terrified of it before,” he recalled. “Are you sure it’s worth gambling everything, when you might lose it all?”

“I wasn’t as scared as nervous. What these represent is completely different. The death holes don’t feel cold because they go anywhere freezing, they’re utterly foreign.” She shivered recounting it, which didn’t fill Paul with confidence. “In fact, it’s downright alien. I’m convinced they’re not of this world.”

“Which is my point. Is it worth visiting hell just for a few more stories? I’ll admit, you’ve used your other stories wonderfully, buying us a better future, but now’s the time to pull back and coast. In a few days, there won’t be any reason to run away anymore. Why risk it?”

“Uh, I hate to intrude,” Andre interjected, “but if I’m ferrying you around, I’d like some idea of what’s going on. You’ve informed Tim what we’ve planned and picked up your possessions. What is it we’re after?”

The two turned, confronting him. “Peg’s getting cold feet,” Paul claimed, playing on her terminology.

“It’s not that. I’m definitely returning, but ... I’m making a pit stop, one that may take a while. Take Paul’s and my stuff back without me. He can put it away and you can return for me. If you can’t, I’ve slept on the street before, I can do it again.”

“No,” he sighed. “I’m not leaving you. Whatever you feel compelled to do, give me an idea how long it’ll take. Better yet, describe it to me and we can figure out a solution. You’re no longer facing things alone. You now have people to rely on. Lean on us for a change.”

“I’m not sure I can,” she hedged. “You can’t go where I’m going.”

“And where is that? What are you doing? I can understand Paul’s reluctance, as he’s gotten used to living as a prostitute. But you’re a newbie facing hardships you’re unequipped to deal with. Why ask for more?”

“Trust me,” Paul suggested. “If she says you can’t go with her, you’d better heed her advice.”

“All right. Although I’m reluctant to abandon you while we have my waiting chariot to carry you to yonder castle, at least tell me how long you’ll be. Paul and I can easily while away the time eating dinner or window shopping. That way, when you’re done, we can pick you up and head home together. No one is abandoning anyone.”

“I don’t know how long it will take. It’s far, far away.”

“Hold on. Is this more of your ‘magic’ stories?” His head drew back, his eyes narrowing. “Are you starting to believe your own tall tales?”

“They aren’t stories,” Paul advised. “It’s really a form of magic. If you give her time, she’ll not only tell you the details, she’ll demonstrate it. But until then, you can’t understand it logically. Magic ain’t logical. You either believe—accepting it for what it is—or it won’t work. She can’t tell or show you, until you’re willing to accept it.”

“So how far is ‘far, far away’? Surely if it’s that far, it’ll be faster driving. If it’s restricted access, or some drug den, at least take Paul to watch over you. But I’m not leaving you.”

“I promise I won’t move from this spot, but it’s too far for you to follow or for me to guess how long it might take.”

“Please, enough with all the—”

“Paul,” she pleaded.

He stepped forward, taking Andre’s hand, walking around him and forcing him to turn. Glancing over his shoulder, Peg was nowhere to be seen.

“Peg!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

“As she said, she stayed in the same spot, and when you come back, she’ll be right there. But you can’t go where she went.”

“Is this like your tulips from Holland trick? ‘Cause something this big takes expensive special effects, or huge mechanical contraptions to pull off. You can’t just disappear like that.”

“Stop trying to shove her magic into the confines of your limited experiences. She’s operating on a different plane. She’ll return, to the same spot, just as she said, but we’ve got to give her time. But if you accept you can’t change what she’s doing, she can finish it. When she returns, hopefully she’ll trust you enough to explain. But she can’t until you give up denying her magic.”

Andre threw his hands up, turning in a slow circle, searching for her. “It seems I don’t have much choice in the matter. Next time, I’m handcuffing myself to her, or getting one of those baby leashes.”

“Forget it. Let’s go buy some overpriced coffee while I try to explain, but until you’re willing to accept it, you’re incapable of understanding.”

“And here I thought dating a boy prostitute was my biggest challenge. I’ll try letting go, but I’m not making any promises.”

This trip, unlike every other she’d taken, was different. She still took a single step, yet this time it took much longer. She wasn’t conscious of the time passing, as her leg didn’t tire from holding it, but she was aware of its passage. There was still a lot she didn’t understand about these things.

When she exited, she was proven right. This destination wasn’t anywhere on Earth, as she found herself slowly rotating backwards. Twisting her head to orient herself, the movement twirled her ever so slightly, spinning her catty-corner. It was only when she ceased struggling that she began to slow. Discovering she could breathe, there appeared to be oxygen, though she wasn’t sure how much, as the whirling left her dizzy. Plainly there was gravity, as everything stood upright. Carefully glancing down, she was unable detect a floor of any kind. It just descended, seemingly forever.

Strangest of all were this world’s denizens. Rather than normal flesh and blood animals, they were glittering insubstantial beings. You could literally see through them, though they used tools as humans did. Though, it was the only normal thing about them.

Stopping her struggles, her spinning gradually slowed, allowing her to evaluate what she was witnessing. The residents were relatively large, from three to five feet tall, with long necks and legs, despite not standing on anything. Using broad feathered tails to balance themselves, they possessed hooked pointed beaks. Even stranger were their hummingbird-like wings, which constantly flittered. Rather than keeping them aloft, they apparently kept them upright and stable, propelling them in the extremely low gravity Peg fumbled with.

“A Traveler,” someone announced, pointing at her, their words not in synch with their moving beak.

The area surrounding her was illuminated, though she couldn’t determine how. Anything beyond it was totally dark, without even the glimmer of distant stars. If these creatures lived here, there must be connecting rooms somewhere, but she didn’t see any indication of them. Then again, they’d likely use other portals, rather than traditional doors.

The creature approached, hovering near as it steadied her.

“What are travelers?” Peg’s voice sounded to her as ghostlike as the being grasping her.

“They are few, none seen in our lifetime,” it revealed, releasing her. “They travel wherever they want. They are only ones to ever visit—aside from those without bodies.”

Convinced she was stable, it turned, waving an odd broom-like device, and the portal she’d entered through diminished, growing smaller.

“Wait. You can’t destroy that or I can’t return.”

‘He’ paused, glancing at her with what she could only assume was a curious expression. “Travelers can go anywhere, anytime and anyplace. They don’t need these gates,” he continued, finally naming them, as he resumed sweeping it away. “They get in way.”

“No, no!” Peg waved her hands, which sent her spinning again, though slower than before. “I can’t do it. I can only travel through the holes.”

Her protests had the desired effect as he ceased erasing it and hurried to straighten her again.

“No. Travelers go anywhere, anytime,” he maintained, despite never having encountered one. “They no need gates.”

“But I do!” she persisted, keeping her hands motionless by her side.

He cocked his head, which involved bending his neck and lowering his head to stare at her from a new angle. “Ah, you still young, not yet know way. You learn.”

“What is this place?” she asked, her only means of escape forgotten for the moment. As she spoke, a new hole formed and another creature raced forward as a flowing, pulsing ball of energy exited, drifting silently. Another, much smaller portal appeared ahead of it, and entering it vanished, as the being busily swept the two gates away. “Is this heaven?”

Peg could observe how the larger, human sized portals were problematic. As she watched, the process continued around her. Whenever a new gate materialized, someone rushed forward, even when there didn’t seem to be anyone there. They guided the balls towards their new homes, before sweeping away each portal.

“We not know this heaven,” her guide said, his beak speaking some other language, her ears hearing nothing. Paying attention, she noted she couldn’t hear anything but a vague, far-off ringing. “We only transfer entities from one world to another.”

Seeing her confusion, he continued. “Beings from all worlds come here. They need go to other worlds, so we guide them. But gates are temporary, not needed once they enter or pass.”

“So they can harm you?”

“No harm but troublesome they, elsewhere shifting us, forcing us find way back—which time takes.”

“Tell me about it,” she reflected, still wondering whether she was hallucinating. She had no idea how she could breathe or hear conversations that weren’t spoken, or see flying creatures who never flew. It was very confusing, with no way to process what she was witnessing.

“Give time self,” he consoled, as if reading her fleeting thoughts. “Once you fight cease, stabilize you.”

The thought was simple enough she could accept it. Just as when she ceased struggling, she stopped spinning. Everything appeared logical when she quit trying to figure it out.

Other glowing balls entered, each somehow different. Some contained trace colors: reds, greens or other shades, while some were round, some oblong and some ... oddly shaped. Nothing seemed consistent, yet they all operated similarly. She could understand his insistence on maintaining order, as a single misstep might throw their other work into disarray, filling the space with misplaced, misbegotten orbs.

“Are all these gates connected with death?”

Her host once more twisted his neck around. “Death? We no such thing know. Nothing end, merely change, go to a new place. We direct, keep on correct path.”

“But what about the holes?” She abandoned her impulse to indicate them. “They only form when ... someone leaves one place and goes to another?”

“Yes,” he contended, releasing her again and moving back to ensure she remained stable.

“Then what about the connecting gates?” she pressed. “How are they created?”

His head twisted into a different direction, this time peering at her from upside down.

“Each gate form when leave one world, but those departing other gates create, viewing events in their lives.”

“But most don’t lead here,” she said. “And they’re all in the present, not the past, and they’re mostly empty.”

“Ah, you no see what is gone, but those shifting do. They see things as were, but leave gates to what now is. That’s why clean necessary.”

Peg nodded. “That makes sense. The world I left is a mess, so filled with gates you can hardly walk in a straight line.”

He reached under his feathers, handing her a small device. Accepting it, Peg’s lifting her hand caused her to spin head over heels. However, when she didn’t resist, she slowly righted again. It had a single odd button. Pressing the switch, it became the same sweeping object he’d used. Pressing it again, she rotated in a cantilevered direction, as it turned back into a simple, unremarkable tube.

He sighed, at least she thought he did, but this time he left her alone to settle herself.