When I Contemplated Suicide, by Mary (2)

When I Contemplated Suicide

'You too, huh?'

Mary looked up from her bloodcovered hands. It was Sammy. He turned his gaze on the dead man; his tongue licking the pavement, his chest carved with the bloody shape of egret wings. His garrote grasped in his hands.

'Can you stand?'

Mary did not respond. Her hands moved to cover the two growing bruises on either side of her neck. Sammy watched this and leaned against the wall of the church.

'Come on,' he said wearily.

Sammy approached her. She jumped and backed against the wall, her shoulders elevated. She stared at him unblinking.

He raised his hands to show no harm. 'Shh. It's alright. Let's go to my house and get you cleaned up.'

'I-I don't want to hurt you.'

'I'm not worried about that.'

'Sam.' Her voice caught in her throat; when it emerged it came as a wretched cry. She fell crumpled against the wall into herself. He knelt and helped her onto her feet.

Mary smelled of blood and urine. Her arms dangled as they walked. Blood eked from her fingers to dot the pavement. Mary rested her head limp on his shoulder.

The moon grinned as Sammy and Mary, at some meaningless time before sunrise, traversed Leverett and turn down Kelley street.

Sammy unlocked his door. Mary just stood behind him. Unable to think. Unable to comprehend.

There was a void. One minute Kaplan was there choking her, lifting her against the brick wall. His eyes bulging out in mania. She was approaching death. Its red hands were gripping the edges of her vision.

Next moment, Kaplan was ripped open and Mary had blood on her hands.

She felt some movement and realized that Sammy was again pulling her.

'Can you take your boots off?' he asked in the foyer.

Mary nodded and bent to her shoelaces.

'Your socks, too.'

She removed those as well.

They moved into the living room. The light came on. Goldie rushed from the hallway tying her nightrobe. When she saw Mary she gasped and reached towards her.

'Mom,' said Sammy. He stared blankly at her. 'This is our business.'

She lowered her hands, which began fretting with each other. 'Alright. I understand.' She tapered off. 'If you need anything.'

Sammy nodded. Mrs. Henderson watched them pace across the room. The bathroom door closed. Leaving her with silence and then the emergence of the air conditioner. Mrs. Henderson could not stop thinking of what could have happened.

Inside the bathroom, Sammy put her baseball cap in the sink and started the shower. Steam rose from the spray.

'Do you like it hot?'

Mary mumbled 'yes'.

He left and returned with a hamper holding folded clothes. These he set on the counter. He threw the hat into the hamper.

'Wash up. You'll feel better.'

'Sam, I...did I kill him?'

'Don't think about that. He was trying to kill you. Whatever happened worked out for you. You're alive. That's what matters.' Sammy squeezed her arm and went out, closing the door.

Mary undressed. She put her clothes in the hamper and stood under the water. Watered blood swirled down the drain. She scrubbed herself with her hands. Soap bubbled on her skin and oozed with the blood and disappeared into its same drain.

The door opened. 'It's just me,' said Sammy. 'I'm getting your clothes.' He took the hamper and left.

In the back yard, Sammy set some newspaper alight in the fire pit; he stoked it with scattered oak sticks and brush. When flames were jumping he threw her clothes in. Panties and bra first. Easiest to burn. Then the shirt, the hat, and the shorts. The backpack. Shoes and socks on top. He started chewing on a toothpick. Smoke rose high above the neighborhood. He wondered if anyone would call the fire department. He flicked his ruined toothpick into the fire and started on another one.

Four toothpicks in, he noticed Goldie watching from the patio door. Like she was expecting him to go to prison, or join a gang, or leave to war. They stared at each other. Firelight teased the soft curves of his face.

He ascended the patio. She slid open the door.

'Is she going to be alright?'

'I don't know.'

'What happened?'

'Don't know that either.'

'I'm going to go check on her mother.'

'Wait. Hold off on that.' Sammy lifted his cap to scratch his head and eyed the fire. 'This is something that never happened. We can explain away the injuries, but this kind of situation gets harder to control the more people know about it.'

'She's her mother. She has a right to know about what's happened to her daughter.'

'A right, sure. But is it good to know?'

To this she said nothing. She gently felt his hair.

'Please just tell me she'll be alright.'

'She'll be alright.'

'I'm so proud of you, Sam.'

-

Mary wore one of Sammy's shirts. It fit her well. Captain America held his shield before him. Her thighs felt cold in his gym shorts. She hadn't yet put on his flip-flops.

Bruises on her neck. She felt over them with her now clean hand. They pained to the touch.

The constant drip of water from the shower head battered the tub floor.

She leaned over the sink and vomited. It was after the water washed the last of her vomit down the sink that Sammy returned.

'You can use my toothbrush.'

Sammy leaned against the jamb and watched her spit, brush, spit again. They went into the living room. Sammy gave her a tall glass of water. She held it but didn't drink.

'Come on. You need water after that.'

She sipped some. She mechanically followed him to the sofa and sat beside him in the middle. He slouched on his hand and regarded her.

'Who was that man?'

Mary stared at the rug. 'I don't know.'

'Why was he trying to kill you?'

She looked at him.

'What'd you do with my shorts?'

'I burned them.'

Before he could ask why, Mary ran outside. The glass spilled water onto the carpet. She jumped from the patio and kneeled into the ashes in the pit. Sammy came out and watched her incredulously as she began digging through the ashes.

'What are you doing?'

'Dang it, dang it.' She touched an ember and pulled her hand back. 'Damn it. I swear to god if you burned it-'

'It's all gone. What are you looking for?'

Her hand brushed over it. She pulled it from the ashes. In the light of the patio bulb, the hundred dollar bill was translucent. She brushed away ashes from its surface. A corner was slightly burnt away, but otherwise it was intact. Mary sighed, relieved.

'Is that why he was after you? Did you steal that from him?'

'No. I don't know.'

She recounted the story. Nothing but the facts. A shootout in the woods. When she realized someone was stalking her. The bill that she had left in the tree on her doorstep. Nothing but cold, unabashed facts.

'But why'd he keep hounding you after you left it in the tree?'

'I guess I'm a loose end.'

'True. But why'd he give it back and wait until tonight?'

Mary didn't answer. He sighed. 'That's evidence. You need to get rid of it.'

'What does it matter anymore?'

'The police are going to be looking for any leads. And you don't want to be the subject of a police investigation. From now on, just by living, you're suspect.'

'What does that mean?'

Sammy sighed. He looked at the sky.

'The sun's ready to rise. Want to go home?'

Mary nodded weakly; he helped her to her feet, through the side gate, down the street. Mary left her hand in his. She didn't have the energy to remove it.

Her apartment was dark. Streetlight beamed through the Venetian blinds into ribs on the carpet.

'I'll come over and check on you later. Get some sleep. I'll tell Miss Jones to fix breakfast for your mom.'

'No, I'll do it. Not like I'll be sleeping tonight.' She weakly smiled.

'Alright, if you want. See you.'

He closed the door quietly behind him. Mary stood in the living room. She stared at the darkness.

---

Mary spent the nascent morning awake. Wandering around her house. From the couch in the living room to her bed.

She started her mother's coffee at 5:45.

An unending headache. She laid on the floor, tried the beanbag chair in her room. She stared at the posters arraying her wall. They had words but none of the words had meaning. They were just symbols left by an ancient race, so ancient they were alien.

She tried to read a few times. Sartre, Spinoza, Machiavelli, Nietzsche. Though Nietzsche should have had the most to say about her situation, what he said came through garbled. Static blocked all the words. She could have been listening to the beginning or end of the universe.

That she had fulfilled some primal directive was not lost on her. Kill to live. Sammy was right. She had, according to natural right, done the good thing.

And yet Kaplan's mangled body would not depart her imagination. Nor that small droplet left on Marianne's floor. Her last remaining bit. Why did she feel responsible for everything that happened?

She caught herself staring at her hands. What had they done? How had they done it?

She went to the kitchen and mixed herself a glass of lemonade. Her mother was stirring in the next room. The smell of coffee. The air conditioner coming on. The plants growing in their own time in the planters outside. All these and more just meaningless shadows projected on a stark, cruel face belonging to the world.

Someone knocked on the door. Mary answered. Sammy stood in the doorway.

'Hey.'

Mary sipped her lemonade. 'Hey.'

'You feeling alright?'

Mary didn't answer. 'Didn't you sleep?'

'No. Can I have some lemonade?'

Sammy sat down at the table with her and sipped at his glass. Mary's mother came into the living room guiding herself along the wall. Mary wordlessly rose and poured a cup of coffee for her.

'Lemonade in the morning,' said Mrs. Phan. She shortly chuckled. 'With all this sugar you kids drink, no wonder the dentists are getting fat.'

'Hi, Mrs. Phan.'

'Hello, Mr. Sammy. You're up early.'

Sammy smiled sideways and shrugged.

'My, feels like a minute since I've seen you. You're getting tall. How old are you again?'

'Eleven, ma'am.'

'You're sprouting up like a bean. Here, Mary, let's make him some breakfast.'

'Actually, I was thinking of walking down to Eddy's with Mary.'

Mary looked at him over her sweating lemonade. 'I have to make her some breakfast.'

'Well, I'm feeling pretty upright today, Mary. I think I can handle some toast and jam.'

Mary looked at her mother. 'What are these summer days for, after all,' she replied monotonously.

She left her lemonade on the table and followed Sammy. Passing by her mother, she suddenly hugged her. The frail bones trying to escape their skin. Mrs. Phan said nothing; she wrapped her withered arm around Mary. It lasted a moment, but Mary came out of it unsure of the minute, the day.

-

'So, really. How are you feeling?'

Mary looked at Sammy. Behind him, across Leverett, a carpenter bee tested the eaves of an older house.

'Tired. Sick.'

'About what I'd expect. Are you confused?'

Mary stopped walking. She looked him dead in the eye.

'Confused. Confused doesn't begin to describe how I feel about what happened. Are you going to explain to me why I'm alive? Just what happened? You seem to know. So tell me, if you still want to be my friend. Otherwise, stop pitying me and leave me alone.'

Sammy gazed at her.

'We'll talk after we get to Eddy's and I get some pancakes.'

Eddy's was in the corner of Oakland Plaza. Born Fedir Zherdev in the Ukraine, Eddy puttered around the United States between the ages of 25 and 40 conducting odd business, odder jobs, and following his stranger culinary lusts. All this cumulated in him, at the age of 42, settling in Fayetteville and opening what could, if one were feeling charitable, be called a greasy spoon. Heavy on the grease, light on the spoon.

Sammy and Mary sat in a booth by the windows. The place was busy. Tina came around the counter bearing a stack of breakfast-food-laden plates and gave them an apologetic glance. She served these to some older men and, after checking if they were alright on coffee and butter, shuffled over to the kids whipping out her pad.

'What'll it be, kids?'

'Triple Threat, Tina,' said Sammy. Three pancakes with three butters and three strips of bacon and a lemonade.

Mary pretended to look at the menu.

'Y' want the usual, Mary?'

'Not really hungry.'

'C'mon. Get something. I'm buying.'

Mary stared at Sammy.

'Gastric Bypass,' muttered Mary. Double scrambled eggs with jalapeños, three sausage links, and a cup of coffee.

They were quiet while they waited. Mary listened to the other patrons talking. Not particularly caring for their conversations. Their voices morphed into insectoid buzzing. Noises from the kitchen were louder than gunfire.

She jumped when Sammy said 'It'll be hot today.'

Mary nodded.

Their food came. Sammy spread one pad of butter between the bottom and middle pancakes, one pad between the middle and top, and one pad on the very crown of the stack. Syrup flowed over the amber griddlecakes like a slow waterfall.

It surprised Mary how easily she put away her breakfast. She didn't expect she'd be able to eat anything at all. Not that she wanted to. When the food came her stomach immediately, from a clenched state, opened with a cavernous roar. Eggs and sausage flowed down her gullet, washed down by coffee. Soon the plates were absolutely cleaned. Tina refilled Mary's coffee and removed the plates. The sun was shining at thirty-five degrees.

Sammy finished his lemonade. He set the cup back in its sweat-puddle. From his dispenser he fished a toothpick and began chewing. He proffered one to Mary. She stared at the container and stared at him. He placed it back in his pocket.

'You're someone we call a power.'

Mary stared at him. She forgot that they were here to talk about anything.

'A power?'

'Somebody who possesses abilities far removed from a normal human being.'

Mary frowned.

'You're abnormal. Let it sink in. You are fundamentally different from anyone else on Earth. Fundamentally removed.'

'Whatever.'

'You don't believe me. But you being alive is proof. Don't look away from the truth when it wants to talk. You'll have to accept it. Let it become a defining part of who you are. That's the only way to cope.'

'With what?'

'With it, and everything that follows.'

'What follows?'

Sammy began tapping his ring finger on the sticky tabletop. 'Who knows? Your life has radically changed. Your house has been transplanted onto another foundation, practically on another planet. Your reality is altered entirely, and in a big way. Can you tell me what's going to happen on a new, unexplored world?'

Mary stared into her coffee.

'Believe me in your own time, but it's the truth.'

'You're imaginative, I'll give you that.'

'Do you think I'm lying? I'm your friend.' Sammy leaned forward and tried to take her hand. She recoiled, glaring at him.

'Sorry.' He leaned back and resumed his usual nonchalant, empty gaze. 'I couldn't make this up. You're the evidence.'

'If I am a power, why haven't I noticed before?'

'I couldn't tell you. It happens at different times for everybody. Perhaps it only manifests when you're in extreme danger. I've known since I was a little kid. Sarah found out two years ago. Asco's known since he could know anything.'

'Sarah? Asco?'

'You're in store for more surprises.'

She continued to stare at him. Sammy shrugged and cleared some condensation from his lemonade glass with his thumb.

'I don't really understand a lot beyond my own experience,' he said. 'But I know somebody who might be able to help you.'

Mary went back to staring into her coffee.

'Mary. You have to accept it. You'll be happier that way.'

'What the fuck do you know about being happy?' Mary glared at him over her cup of coffee and sipped. Silence filtered in like an interlocutor after her curse. Sammy grew a deep frown. He took ten dollars from his Spiderman wallet and slapped it on the table.

'Maybe I don't know anything about being happy. Fine. Don't accept what's happened and don't move on. Just stick around in the most painful place you've ever been and see how that works out for you.'

'You don't know anything about pain.'

'Whatever. I'm going home.' Sammy got up and left. The bell jingled under the door; sunlight entered through the gap until the door slammed shut.

Mary didn't know where to look. She wanted to cut her eyes out. Tina came and took the ten and came back with the change. Two dollars and seven cents.

'Keep it,' said Mary.

Tina smiled. 'You alright, hon?'

Mary got up and left.

---

Two days passed.

Heat thunderheads billowed. Mary watched their heavy bases approach, away past the church across the field. Far past that church. A lightning bolt tapped some far-off point. Her mother often said when lightning struck 'another sinner bites the dust'. A southernism she absorbed from Alabama.

Mary tipped the watering can over the herb tray. Cilantro, tomatoes, hot peppers that would never reach their full potential mired in Arkansas mildness. When she finished this routine, she went inside and mixed herself another glass of lemonade. She washed out the cup and went into the bathroom.

Mary closed the door and started the tap. She opened the medicine cabinet. Her mother's medications nearly flowed out. In their translucent amber barrels. She stared at them. She caught herself in the mirror staring and stared at herself.

Where can I buy a gun for a hundred dollars?

I could buy rope. But it'd be a while walking to the overpass. I don't want to convince myself not to do it. I don't want that voice to win out. And I'd look weird walking with a length of rope; somebody would probably call the police and I'd be caught before I could do it. And then people would make a huge thing out of it.

Could I use the patio railings? But those aren't actually screwed into the brick; those screws they just put for show. I'd probably break it without breaking my neck and then I'd break something else. And then of course some good fucking Samaritan would show up and save my life, but we'd be saddled with hospital bills out the wazoo.

Maybe I can just jump and aim for a semi. It'd certainly work. But it wouldn't be quick, probably, and certainly not painless.

Everything indicated an overdose. She filled a glass and went back to the bathroom. She began opening the pill bottles.

Mom'd have to clean up my mess.

Mary stopped unscrewing. She took a long breath. She sat on the toilet.

Far too messy. I'd shit myself, vomit everywhere, probably piss. I don't want mom to see me like that. Much less have to clean the insides of her daughter up.

She poured out the water and stopped the tap and replaced the pills. On the living room laptop she Googled 'Suicide Methods'. The first thing she saw was the admonishment from Google informing her of the National Suicide Prevention Line. She scoffed and found a Reddit sub-site dedicated to good, clean, quick, and discreet methods that didn't involve others.

She remembered an isolated bridge over a branch of the White River. It'd take her a while to walk there, but she could stash all the gear inside of her backpack. Rope, straight razors, superglue. The right kind of knot, a leap from the bridge, a quick and easy beheading followed by a fall into the river, her blood, head, body, washing away.

Mary closed the browser.

But Sammy burnt my backpack. Dumbass. She rubbed her face.

She took out her cellphone and scrolled to the Hendersons' number. Thunder rumbled outside. Someone would have to drive her to the store to buy a new backpack. She could walk down Leverett to the hardware store to procure the rest. Somebody who wouldn't be suspicious; not at all related to Sammy.

Mary went to the window and peered through the Venetian blinds. The storm was closer. Rain drifted below it like gray hair.

She wondered who could help her.

-

April Ramirez knocked on the door. Mary opened it. The tall – absurdly so, Mary realized – gangly young woman was scratching her ankle with the tip of her other foot.

'Hi, Mary!' Her voice squeaked.

'Hi.'

'Looks like it's gonna rain, doesn't it?' She looked behind her. More than a lock, a bastion of her tangled hair fell over her right eye. 'Ready to go?'

Mary closed and locked the door.

April's GMC suburban idled in the parking lot. There was a boy about April's age in the passenger's seat. He looked at Mary. He raised his hand in an idle wave and returned to his phone.

Mary got into the back seat. April started eating Gummy Worms from a bag in her cupholder and whipped it in reverse. Mary stared ahead at the approaching shadow of the storm.

'So! What happened to your backpack?'

'The strap broke.'

'A backpack without a strap is as good as a purse.'

The boy scoffed. April went very quiet after saying this. Mary didn't respond. They rode quietly for a while. At a stoplight on Gregg, April turned to look at Mary.

'You want some worms?'

'You're the stranger they warn kids about,' mused the boy in the passenger seat.

'David! Just trying to be nice.'

'Giving candy to kids is a nice action. Doesn't make you less of a pedophile.'

Mary hazarded a glance at April. April's mouth was frozen in a circle. She spat out 'Fuck you!' and slapped David across the shoulder. He laughed.

'The light's green,' Mary said.

'Oh, shit.' April hit the accelerator. The tires screeched. Rain began in earnest. It percussed the windshield loudly; obese, languid raindrops.

Mary discovered that she was looking at her hands. She put her hands in her lap and squeezed them between her thighs. Raindrops trailed along the window; unable to think, she stared at these.

She caught David using his side mirror to watch her. She met his look. He looked ahead.

They had to wait in the Wal-Mart parking lot; the rain quieted into a slow drizzle. Thunder rolled. Mary went inside before April and David. They were talking about something, walking too slow. Mary didn't listen. She beelined for the backpacks, darting between customers like a fly. These people were hazy gauze people; felt figures attached to a diorama box. Only concerned with ahead, behind, what enters the front, what exits the back. Mary wished they would split in two. She could do that with a felt diorama. She could rupture this scene. A fragile facsimile of a hard world could service in its place.

As she analyzed a hiking backpack, she noticed David behind her. April was amusing herself with a Spiderman backpack at the end of the aisle.

'You're going with that one?'

She gave him a sidelong look. 'Yeah.'

'What about this Dora the Explorer one?'

'No thanks.'

David put his hands in his pockets. 'You're a little girl. What do you want that kind of backpack for?'

This one was black and opaque. Almost militaristic. Fine for her task. She looked back at him and caught April looking. Her dopey face had morphed into something Mary couldn't identify. April quickly returned to checking the inside of the Spiderman backpack.

'I'm not a little girl.'

'Good deal, good deal. But people at school are going to think you are still when you go back.'

'Whatever. I'll deal with them.'

'Will you kick their asses?' April smiled from above the rim of the Spiderman backpack. David turned around and looked at her. She slowly went behind the backpack, blushing.

'It's up to you,' said David.

Mary offered no reply.

As they approached the registers, Mary caught a glimpse of a title in the book section. She pretended to idly browse the shelves. April seemed to remember something and went to a battery stand in the middle of the aisle. David went down the center aisle perusing books.

The book Mary saw was Karma and You.

Mary opened it. Written by Ramakrishna Janesh Dev. According to the 'About the Author', he came from India to 'open the spiritual eyes of the West to ancient Indian teachings.'

She flipped through. Wondered why the book had caught her. Perhaps it was just the cover. The author, a wizened old man with orange paint in places on his face, had a smarmy, shit-eating smile. Like he knew a secret. But his eyes were clear, hauntingly green. Like ghost orbs suspended above a dark forest.

She knew about karma. Nothing inside, during her cursory flipthrough, furthered her understanding. What you do is returned. Positive returns positive; negative returns negative. The cycles propagate as your soul reincarnates through time.

David looked over her shoulder.

'Kind of an interesting book for a little girl to read.'

'Is it your business?' She slammed the book into its holder. David didn't flinch.

'Just saying. For a little girl to be concerned with karma. Tells me a lot.'

'What do you think it tells you?'

'That you think you owe the universe some good karma.' David walked away. Mary angrily watched his back. The backpack dangled from her left hand.

He looked back at her.

The hundred dollar bill burned in her pocket. She stuck her hand inside and felt it. The sweaty posture of it; crumpled insect-like in a humid world. She crinkled it, un-crinkled it.

What would my mother do without me?

She stared at the brown flooring they pass for wood at Wal-Mart. Miss Jones can't look after her anymore. It's me. I'm her only...whatever I am.

She thought of her sister. A hateful feeling swelled and passed as quickly as a bird peeks from and retreats into the grass.

'Never mind.'

Both of them looked at her.

'I'm taking it back.'

'Why?' asked April. 'Don't you need a new backpack for school?'

Mary felt a sweatdrop form under her hair. That's right. Lies perpetuate a cycle of lies.

'I just realized that I forgot my money.'

April snapped her fingers and reached inside her back pocket. She looked inside her billfold. 'I have twenty dollars!'

'Getting children to do your dirty work. Tsk, tsk.'

April exaggeratedly shushed him.

'Who are you, the Two Stooges?'

'The only stooge here is April. She wants you to owe her so she can make you do her chores.'

'That's not true.' April pouted. 'Fine. You pay for it.'

David peeked into his wallet.

'I don't have any money.'

April shoved the twenty in his face. 'Here. Now you owe me.'

David sighed and gave the twenty to Mary. She grudgingly took it. At the register, she could feel the cashier eyeing her and her two – she wondered for a better word – benefactors. Even though their benevolence was more than likely induced by Sammy. Mary returned the change directly to April, who smiled in triumph.

'If it's all the same to you, I'll take the Red Bus home,' says David after they went outside. Humidity choked the air.

'Oh,' said April, surprised. 'Okay, fine, loser.'

He put his hands in his pockets and wandered towards the bus stop.

'Guess it's just you and me, kid.'

'Is he your boyfriend?'

'Why? Interested?' April gave her a lascivious elbow prod on the arm.

'No. Worried.'

April cackled. Back in the car, April plugged her phone into the radio and turned on 'Raining in Baltimore.'

'Oooh, no. Too sad.'

She switched it to 'The Ghost in You' and lashed in reverse, tires screeching.

'Much better. Don't you like music?'

'I like Vivaldi.'

'A violin, fan, huh? I prefer Beethoven. He played the piano, like me.'

Mary slouched against the window. She watched the cars pass like isolated islands in a gray sea.

'You play the piano?' Mary asked.

'You know, Sammy did tell us what happened.'

Mary's heart nosedived.

'I'm a power too. David's not one, but he's close enough to us that he may as well be.'

'Us?'

'We've got our own little world. And we freely move between the two. It's something you get used to.'

'You don't really know me.'

'Ehhhuhh, you don't really know me,' mocked April. 'Cut the goth crap. You did what you had to.'

'Don't say that. Please don't say that. I blanked out. None of what happened was up to me. You don't know what it's like to have killed somebody.'

April went quiet. 'The Ghost in You' entered its last verse. Don't you go, it makes no sense. An approaching train blared. April looked in the mirror and quietly cursed.

'Gonna get stuck here,' she quietly said.

'Thanks for taking me to the store.'

They got stuck waiting to turn right on Poplar. The train, a big freight line, roared past.

'I don't know you very well,' said April. 'I care for you, though. Just wait. It gets better. It doesn't feel like it will.' April rubs her thumbs over the pleather of the steering wheel. 'But it does. Heh, look at me. I'm a platitude engine.'

She went quiet for a moment, train wheels keeping time to Richard Butler's fading voice.

'If you ever want to talk about anything, just call me. It's okay.'

Mary looked at her. The train ran forward unerringly and unstoppably to its destination.

-

'Maybe I'll show you mine sometime.'

Mary managed not to comment on the awkward nature of what April said. April slowly nodded as the window rose. Mary watched April peel away and screech down Leverett.

The light inside was diffuse and gray. Mary turned on the lights. She put her new backpack in her room.

'Mary?'

Her mother hobbled in, eyeing Mary's messy room with a mother's distaste.

'You got a call from Sammy.'

Mary hadn't realized she left her phone. She took her phone from her mother and checked her messages.

'He wanted to see if you could go play later.'

'Okay.'

---

The laboratory's dark was interrupted by blue lights emplaced around his workspace. Dimly glowing fluorescent bulbs. Coffee cups discarded haphazardly. A half-full decanter of Cabo-Wabo añejo. RAM chips, figments of processors, and various technological components strewn messily on his seven office desks. File cabinets with the contents hanging out like suspended viscera.

The man with violet hair sat in a chair suspended above his workspace by servo-driven and gyroscopically balanced arms. He was bent over the work in his hand. In his goggles reflected the soldering iron's spark. Twin suns isolated in blue space.

He deactivated the iron, attached through servos and piping to the iron arms overarching his workspace. Something he muttered vanished into the now quiet room. His chair floated to one of his desks. Somewhere under that clutter was what he needs. Rifling through it for minutes, he finally found an obscure tool with two elongated prongs – and one tiny 'pring' extending perpendicular to the tool from one side of its handle. He floated back to the middle and resumed his work – putting his tools to their inscrutable purpose.

After a few minutes of soldering, he chuckled happily and lifted his goggles.

In his hand was an egg.

As he stared at it, he seemed to grow disappointed. He sighed and tossed it over his back. It splattered on the ground, becoming one undistinguishable portion of the greater mess.

Who needs a more advanced egg, anyway?

---

Sammy opened his door. Mary was there.

'Hi.'

Sammy raised his eyebrow. 'Hi.'

'Want to come outside?'

He leaned outside and checked the sky. Gray, overcast, lucent veins woven across the underbellies of the thunderstorm's remnants.

'Sure.'

He went inside and came back wearing his Miami Heat baseball cap. Mary followed him down the steps. She looked back; someone was watching her. Mrs. Henderson from the kitchen window. A small viewing port for her wide face; open eyed with worry. Mary smiled and waved timidly. Mrs. Henderson returned the gesture.

'Who is this person?' Mary asked this as they rounded the corner of Kelley and Leverett going towards campus.

'A scientist. So, you want me to introduce you?'

Mary didn't answer. She figured her coming was enough.

'I have to know for sure. You're part of our world now. Are you staying in or staying out?'

'Yeah. Take me.'

Sammy flipped his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

'Sup. Yeah. Leverett and Sycamore. Gotcha.' He looked at Mary. 'Yeah.' He hung up. 'Bout five minutes.'

Mary imagined an underground complex populated with spies. She looked quizzically at Sammy, who sat on the curb. Mary followed suit.

'So...he's a secretive guy, huh?'

Sammy snorted. 'No, it's just too far to walk. He lives over in East Fayetteville.'

'Oh,' replied Mary, feeling dumb. Then the magnitude of what she'd done to Sammy hit her. She bored into the macadam with her eyes. 'Sam. I'm sorry.'

He looked sideways at her. 'Thanks.'

Mary began slowly moving her hand across the damp concrete curb towards his. A gray Saturn pulled up with the driver window rolled down. She put her hand in her lap. Inside was a teenaged boy with a crew cut. From the looks of him he hadn't eaten in months; his neck and shoulders were all gaunt, but his face was full and bore a sly smile.

'Get in.'

Sammy held the door for Mary; she clambered inside and Sammy followed.

'Buckle up.'

He was wearing gloves, some kind of brown leather getup. What world have I fallen into, Mary thought.

'Name's Andrew. Call me Andy. You like Vivaldi?'

Mary's eyebrows bumped in surprise. 'Yeah.'

He hiked the volume. La Cetra featuring the Lansing Orchestral Society came on. Mary looked at Sammy. He shrugged innocently. The car rumbled ahead, past College, up the hill where Sycamore turned into Asher. Left onto Old Missouri and past Township and right, down into a neighborhood filled with lush oak and maple trees northeast of Gully Park.

Andy got out of the car and held their door open for them. The house looked fairly normal. Built sometime in the 80's but of a faux-pastoral farmhouse style. With ivies and roses and other vines climbing trellises on the street-side siding. Well-kept, verdant lawn with two large oaks and a healthy guilder-rose with bouffant white blooms. Mary didn't know why, but she smiled as she followed Sammy and Andy through the front door.

The stench of week-old pizza blocked her as she came inside. Garbage was strewn everywhere; did it move? There must have been a colony of rats under the occluded mess. She wondered, as she clambered through it and scaled a random trunk, if it could be peeled or chipped away like wax; wondered if this offal nightmare could be cleared away at all.

'Sorry about the mess,' said Andy. 'We're men, after all.'

They went through a dripping kitchen with an overflowing trash can, through a dark hallway littered with discarded clothing, and stopped at the slightly ajar bathroom door. Mary feared what was in the darkness behind.

The bathroom was clean.

Sammy followed Andy inside. Mary, astounded, stared at it. The floor was waxed; the mirror an immaculate silver without a single fleck of flossed plaque; neither mold nor crusty toothpaste nor hairs in the drain of the shower.

Inside of which Andy and Sammy were standing.

'Get in.'

'Uh.'

'It's the de-con shower,' explained Sammy. Mary searched for his telltale smirk of mischief, but his face was serious. She sighed and squeezed herself between them. Andy closed the curtain.

Suddenly the lights went out with a horrific clunk. The shower started grinding and rocking. Sammy grabbed Mary and started shaking her.

'Something went wrong with the decontamination sequence,' shouted Andy. 'And the curtain's not working!'

'We're all going to die!' screamed Sammy. 'It'll sterilize us to death!'

Mary was useless in his grasp, flailing around. The lights flashed back to life, suddenly. A little door opposite the faucet opened. Mary's heart was doing calisthenics; Sammy laughed, out of breath, leaning against the shower wall. Mary slapped him across the shoulder.

'I hate you!'

'Welcome to the lab,' said Andy.

The door led into a long and wide corridor, like a long Saltine box, the walls lined with a staggering array of heavy machinery, technological components, diagnostic equipment and terminals. Mary could only boggle at their purposes. Sammy walked along seeming entirely unperturbed now that he'd calmed down. That he had been here before wasn't an excuse for not wondering at this stuff, thought Mary.

'Just how often do you come down here?' she asked him.

'Often enough. And if you're wondering, I tried asking. Don't bother, unless you're ready for an endless technical seminar.'

Mary didn't know what to say to that. She followed them through a door at the end.

'This is all under your house?' she asked Andy.

'Indeed,' replied Andy. They were in a foyer of some sort, or square hallway, with four doors, one for each wall. He typed a keycode in its pad beside the left door. It slid open.

'The complex is roughly fifteen million square feet, give or take. He built it in a natural cave system – plenty of them around here – about five years ago. It's incredible, isn't it?'

This room was huge. Stalactites hung from a distant ceiling over a massive cave. Mary stared at what seemed to be, for lack of better description, a giant robot slouching in a near corner.

She could hardly believe something like this was below Fayetteville. And yet here it was for her own eyes.

A light emerged in the dimness. She could see Andy's silhouette outlined in a blue square. His broad shadow cast across the floor. Sammy stopped beside him at the threshold. She couldn't recognize her friend; without his baseball cap, he'd be an anonymous silhouette against the new light.

Mary took in a breath. She held it and let it out. She walked across the wide, echoing span.

Her first step inside, Mary nearly slipped on the guts of a broken egg.

'What in the...'

She looked up. A man floated in front of her. She yelped and fell backwards. The boys snickered in the corner.

A multitude of actuating apparatus descended from the ceiling, like arms, and from their center descended a chair bearing the not-actually-floating man. He raised his soldering goggles.

'Let's get some light.'

He snapped his fingers. Bright yellow lights came on. Mary could then see the clutter around this workspace; and Andy, and Sammy, standing aside, watching.

Mary took a good look at him. He was younger than she expected, with attentive eyes, a goatee, and violet-dyed hair gelled into Nineties spikes.

The man stepped down from his chair and stuck out his hand. Mary took it and stood.

'Name's Robert. Call me Bob, if you want.'

'Okay. I'm Mary.'

'I've heard.' He bent to her level. 'You're my new test subject.'

Mary was aghast. 'What?'

Bob giggled merrily. 'Kidding. You're a kid, lighten up. Aren't you excited to be in a mad scientist's lab?'

Andy cleared his throat. He tilted one of his bushy eyebrows. Bob glanced at him.

'I-It is pretty neat,' offered Mary.

'Thank you. It's my pride and joy. But seriously. Let's get started, hm?'

'Started on what?'

'Finding out what you can do.' He grinned. 'You were attacked, right, and it manifested?'

Mary couldn't figure out what to say. So she just nodded once.

'Hmm. So it came out when you were in danger. Come with me.'

Mary followed Bob back through the cave, through the foyer, through the opposite door. Into a long, short-ceilinged room lined with more inscrutable machinery. He typed madly on a laptop linked by cable to a round door.

The door opened. Mary heard clanking mechanical noises coming from inside. They sounded heavy, deliberate.

Two glowing red eyes appeared.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

A robot – which bore an uncanny resemblance to the good scientist – emerged from the darkness behind the door. It reached its two pincer-like manipulators for Mary; she screeched and turned to run, but tripped over an anonymous member of the clutter inherent to this place and fell. She scooted madly backwards away from the advancing automaton until she touched the wall.

It abruptly stopped moving, whirred, and with a bzorp, deactivated.

'Jeez, you're high strung, aren't you?' Bob revealed a small handheld remote. 'They only do what I tell them'

'What the fuck was that?'

'Language, young lady. That was one of my patent-pending MurderBots.'

'You can get a patent for that?' she asked as Bob helped her up.

'Eventually, I'm sure. That's what you'll be testing against.'

Mary stared at him. She tried to explain how little she understood, but the task daunted any attempt at words.

'Come on. It'll make sense in a minute.'

They walked further down this corridor lined by dim yellow lights.

'So...what am I, exactly?'

'Who. You're a human being.' He looked at her. 'Don't forget that. You're as human as anybody. If anybody tells you different, kick their ass.'

'Okay.'

'You'll believe it eventually. It's always jarring to have an emergence. That's when somebody becomes manifest as a power.' He typed in a keypad on a door. 'Believe us when we say you'll get used to it.'

'Sammy said that I have to accept it.'

'Well, that helps you get used to it, sure. Maybe we're saying the same thing. But I'm nicer than our Mr. Samwise.'

Mary never thought of Sammy as particularly mean. She considered that morning. The argument she shared with Sammy. He seemed to be a different person from the moment he found her in the alleyway covered in blood and piss.

She came back to attention when she felt Bob moving her.

'No, not here.'

As he pushed her she realized they were on a steel walkway around a large spherical chrome object. Injected with wires and tubing. Glowing with diodes around its surface. Some kind of large terminal, studded with buttons and switches, levers and illegible lights, was set up at the bottom of the stairs. Its crowning feature was a rigged-up plasma screen television in the center. There were appropriated movie theater seats installed before it. Mary raised her eyebrow.

Andy and Sammy had entered at some point. Andy was busy with the terminal's equipment; Sammy had a bag of popcorn.

Mary realized that to the left of the door was a snack bar. With a fridge. It had a Sno-Cone maker, a hot-dog rotisserie, and a case full of Twizzlers, Sour Gummi Worms, Gummi Bears, Junior Mints, Whoppers, Twix and Hershey bars.

Bob was moving her again. 'Did you raid a movie theater?' Mary asked. 'Where are we?'

He licked his finger and tested the air. Mary didn't feel any wind. No, he muttered. He walked her again and parked her in a spot to the right of the staircase.

'Hmm.' He took a Geiger counter from his pocket and turned it on. It immediately began its idle click. He waved it around.

'Huh. We'll have to wait a bit.'

Mary's eyes idled towards the snack-bar.

'Sorry, no-can do. We have to keep testing clean. Just in case it's some weird food-based power. Actually, did you eat anything before it happened? Nevermind. Just take it easy for a minute.'

Mary went down the stairs and sank into one of the plush seats beside Sammy. She felt like a fish on an airplane.

'Am I awake, Sammy?'

'You're awake.' He had a long grin on his face and munched on popcorn. Mary considered stealing a bit. 'I've been the main attraction before. I know how it feels.'

Mary didn't want to know what that meant.

Bob paced around the platform with his Geiger counter. Its timid click echoed in the chamber. Andy sat in a rolling chair at the terminal and bent an attached microphone towards his mouth.

'Test, test, test' echoed deeply.

'Does it have to be so loud?' yelled Bob.

Andy turned the volume down. 'Test, test, test.'

'It's fine!' snapped Bob. He put his finger to his goatee and thought. He rushed down the stairs and out the room.

Mary's leg bobbed nervously. She hazarded a look at the snack bar.

'No,' said Sammy.

'How come you get to eat and I don't?'

'Like he said, you've got to be clean. Conditions controlled. We were in the same science class, Mary, I remember you being there when Mr. Grobbin explained about what can happen if your conditions aren't perfect.'

'Wasn't that a story about a jet pilot crashing and smearing his brains in the woods?'

'Conditions weren't perfect.'

Andy chimed in. 'You guys had Mr. Grobbin, too?'

'Had,' said Sammy. 'Will have again for earth science.'

'I got into TAG this year,' piped Mary.

Sammy stopped munching. 'Really? That's cool.'

Mary hesitantly squeezed his arm. 'Don't worry. We'll still go to the same school.'

'I know.'

At this, Bob came back. Everyone watched as he climbed the stairs carrying something in his palm. He waved the Geiger counter more; felt the air again with his wet finger. Finally, he stopped at a point slightly to the left of the stairway's rim. He stooped and placed a small object on the walkway.

It was an egg.

Before Mary could ask, Bob explained.

'Osmium. Dimensional rifts love the stuff. You have to treat the rift like a dog. Give it treats so it'll show up.'

This elucidated absolutely nothing for Mary.

'The osmium is inside the egg.' Bob put his hands in front of him as if he was holding some invisible parcel. 'But the dimensional rift can't get at it, see. Because of the egg. So, you attract the rift to the egg, and when you want to go over, you just stomp on it to release the osmium and get the rift to appear.'

Mary felt her brain melting.

'See what I mean,' said Sammy.

'Just accept it,' said Andy. 'He knows how it works.'

'You can't always explain the universe perfectly,' said Bob. 'But science tries, at least. And this works. Ask Sammy.'

Mary looked at Sammy, expecting Ashton Kutcher to appear suddenly from the darkness followed by a camera crew. Sammy just shrugged.

'I think I should go home.'

Bob crossed his arms. 'Fine. Go. There's the door.'

Mary rose and walked towards the door. Bob piped up.

'Won't you escort Little Miss Trepidation to the shower, Andy? She can't get out without our help. Like she survived her run-in with that man without the aid of her power. Something within her that she can't understand. That we're not trying to help her know, and perhaps learn to use. No, things get a little weird, the world a bit too intimidating, she needs to turn tail and run back to her quote normal endquote life. Never understanding an integral part of who she is. Forever shackled with half-identity. Subject to fear that it will resurge by its own power and hurt someone she loves.'

Mary stopped at the door. She turned and stared at him, her face burning. Her fists clenched tightly.

'Okay. But you have to tell me what's really going on here. An egg? Really? Dimensional rifts, just what kind of drug are you on, and are you going to share it with me so I have even the slightest chance of comprehension?'

Bob didn't speak at first. The quiet hum of machinery filled the space words were inadequate to fill.

'This is a pocket dimension generator.' He shrugged. 'It stores a small universe inside of our own. That's the basics.'

'Okay.'

'It's a potentially infinite workspace. But right now, I just have a small planet with Earth's gravity and a suitable atmosphere. I don't have the processing power to do anything bigger.'

'Wait. Is it real or in a computer?'

'Real, with properties set by computers.'

'Forget I asked. Obviously, impossibility means nothing here.'

'There's such a thing as impossible, Mary. Just a lot less than you'd expect falls under that definition. I'd love to sit down and debate the nature of reality with a twelve-year old, but time's ticking. Don't you want to see what you're made of?'

Mary ascended the stairs.

'We're all ready to go,' said Andy. Sammy had finished his popcorn. Now he began a bag of Twizzlers.

'Wait,' said Mary. 'I'm going inside that universe?'

'Yeah.'

'Just how in the...heck...is that possible?'

'I could go into the technicals, or I could just say that you'll fall through a dimensional rift and wind up on the planet's surface.'

'That's good enough. Fall?'

'Not literally. That, I really can't explain without whipping out my graduate thesis. You won't be hurt.'

'And how am I going to get back?'

'Same way you get in. Once it opens, we'll be able to hold open the rift from this end. Just tell us when and we'll move the opening to your location and you'll come right back.'

Mary sighed. She went limp and let Bob steer her to the right spot.

'Alrighty,' he said. 'I'm going to get out of the way. Wait for Andy's signal, then stomp the egg when you're ready.'

'Wait. Just one more thing. What am I going to do when I get down there?'

'You'll do your thing.' He cracked a smile. 'And we'll see what it is.'

-

Mary stood alone on the platform. The great sphere shined before her; a dim humming suffused the room like some intrinsic feature of it.

'Ready,' said Andy. 'Stomp whenever you want.'

Mary swallowed some nervous spit. She looked down at the egg. Immaculate white. There was metal in there? She blew out a breath and stomped. She didn't have time to watch the yolk and white ooze through the lattice of the walkway; bright light overlaid everything. She felt the air sucked out of her; for a moment she felt frozen. Then she took a long breath.

Howling winds blew around her. Before her stretched a baleful landscape darkened by slate gray clouds. There was nothing. Some mountains rose in the distance only to disappear into the featureless sky.

'Can you hear me?'

Bob's voice echoed throughout.

'Yes?' she hazarded.

'Good, communication's up. Feel free to chat. You don't have to shout, we can hear you just fine.'

'How?'

'Computers! Science! Diodes and currents!'

'Okay, jeez. What's with this wind?'

'Wind? Oh, nuts.' After a few seconds lapsed, the winds stopped. 'Sorry. We don't have visuals yet. I forgot that I was playing around with a weather simulation. Glad it wasn't a tornado!'

'Could it have been?'

'Maybe?'

'Thanks.'

Nearby, a small piece of the landscape shifted. A small tin robot, shaped like a toaster with a lens poking from the slot, crawled from underground. The ground reverted to its previous smooth state. The little robot skittered towards Mary and beeped a musical tone not unlike the opening riff to an oversped Paint It Black.

'Hello?'

'That's a CameraBot,' said Bob. 'Isn't he cute?'

'A little, I guess.'

The CameraBot chirped.

'Mary,' said Andy, 'can you walk towards those mountains in the distance?'

'Sure.'

Mary started walking across the featureless landscape. Whatever substance this planet was composed of was off-gray, somewhat pinkish, almost like human flesh. She grimaced. It very well could be human flesh. But it felt stony enough.

She walked until she had to sit down. She sat rubbing her ankles. The CameraBot had followed her the whole way.

'I thought you said time was ticking.'

'It is. But we have to get stuff ready, after all.'

'Why do I have to walk so far?'

'It's not certain where a rift is going to open on either end. Even with the osmium – that just raises the chances. Usually, I just let it happen where it happens on the planet.'

'And it happened to put me miles from where you wanted.'

'Not miles. You don't walk much, do you?'

'She always has other people drive her around,' said Sammy.

Mary's face flushed hotly. 'That's not true.' She stood and started walking again. 'It's not like I have a choice.'

'It's just another half-mile, Mary,' said Andy.

She walked for what seemed like an hour. Maybe I really do need to walk more, she thought.

'Okay, there's good.'

Andy's voice echoed through the nothing.

'Are you ready, Mary?'

She looked at the sky. She wondered why she did that; she glared at the CameraBot. Hopefully they caught her look.

'Ready for what?'

Suddenly, the ground shifted, a much larger section. Three MurderBots rose from the ground and shuddered to life. Their crimson eyes opened; their square teeth began chomping.

Mary crossed her arms. They stomped stiffly towards her. Their claws clacked; their claw-hands whirled around on their wrists.

KILL. KILL. KILL, the three said in slightly-offset unison.

Mary stifled a laugh.

'She's not scared,' said Sammy. 'Come on. Remember what you threw at me last time?'

'Not scared of my MurderBots?' Bob sighed loudly. 'Nobody's ever scared of my MurderBots. Fine.'

The MurderBots deactivated, slumped at the waist.

'I'm sorry. They're just so...clunky.'

'You mean stupid. You think my MurderBots are stupid.'

'Kind of.'

'What kind of kid are you?'

'I'm not a kid.' Mary poked a MurderBot. It fell over with a clunk.

Abruptly the ground began quaking. Mary fell along with the other MurderBots. From the depths rose a large mechanical construct, shaped like a chrome ball with armored arms and legs. She recognized it as the robot in the cave. It blared a deep trumpeting noise which echoed against the mountains. Its fingers clenched and unclenched; its first step forward shook the ground.

Mary stared at it.

It raised its left arm high.

With a high screeching noise its arm came down like a hammer. Mary flew backwards from the impact. Stone fragments flew everywhere. Something grazed Mary's cheek. She smelled blood. The robot advanced, its other arm poised to strike.

'C-C'mon, Bob. This i-isn't funny.'

'You gonna wet yourself again?'

Sammy had said this; the words pierced her chest. Mary got up and ran. The machine loped after her with powerful strides. She skidded to a stop; its left foot thundered into the ground beside her, knocking her into the air, as the robot charged ahead. She landed on her side and rolled back onto her feet and fled the opposite direction.

'Please, stop!'

Nobody replied. The ground shook as the robot stopped itself and charged. She ran for dear life. She realized these people were trying to kill her. They had caught her after all. Bob and Andy – even Sammy – had to be his agents, or allies, in some elaborate scheme to erase the last witness.

Of course this was ridiculous. She stopped and faced the robot.

'Come on. This isn't fun anymore.'

Before she could react, the robot grabbed her. Raised her high in the air. Began squeezing. She could hardly breathe.

Black lines appeared at the edges of her vision. Red haze. The audible authority of a heartbeat. Coming to her like a thunderstorm calling in the silent night, and it was the only audible thing.

In the next instant, she was on the ground. The robot fell backwards with a long scar in its rotund torso; sparks crackled within. She was rolled into herself. Hot tears welled from her eyes. She couldn't breathe; her desperate breaths vanished quicker than she could save them.

'Mary?'

'Take me back!'

And in the next instant, she was back on the causeway.

Mary sat in one of the theater chairs, her feet propped up on the one before her. Andy held an ice pack on her left ankle. A bandage on her cheek. Sammy had left an unopened bag of Twizzlers on her belly. Bob was staring silently at her. He had a clipboard dangling at his side. He puffed a breath and threw the clipboard into a seat.

'That was something,' he said, cracking the silence.

Sammy returned.

'Sorry. Had to pee.'

'Yeah, I almost lost it when that happened, too,' said Andy.

'I didn't lose anything,' said Sammy. 'I was quick enough.' He was trying not to look at Mary. Mary looked at him.

'So, what happened?' she asked.

Bob sighed and asked 'Want to watch?' He took a remote and turned on the TV. It was already set at the beginning of a recording. He pressed play.

-

Fast-forward past the walking, past the MurderBots, to the point where the robot picked Mary from the ground like a toy. The CameraBot's eye followed her.

Mary watched aghast as the Mary on the screen metamorphosed. Shadows coalesced around her arms which extended grotesquely into monstrous talons formed of the dark. Long tendrils of the shadow waved from her arms; a web or network or circuitry of black lines appeared on Mary's upper arms. This was all she could see of her body at this point in the film. That Mary slashed through the robot's forearm like it were a papier-mâché craftwork. She fell past the robot's torso, running both claws through its belly. Sparks flew from around her talons. She landed hard on the ground, but seemed unaffected by the impact. She rose slowly from that crouch. Dust kicked up from the automaton's fall; wind tossed this Mary's hair. The shadows around her arms seemed to suck in all the light around.

That Mary turned slowly. CameraBot scuttled towards her. Mary's eyes were blacked out and seeping shadowed lines down her face. Lines that traced slowly down her cheekbones, into and around her broad, dead smile.

-

Bob stopped the playback and turned off the TV.

'That's where the good stuff ends.' He turned back to her. He sat beside her and propped his own ankles on a seat before him. 'That was quite a fall you took. You sprained your ankle, but considering it could have been worse, I wouldn't put it past you to have some kind of substructure giving you some kind of advanced durability.'

The vision of that other Mary, weeping black tears, burned in Mary's imagination. They only sat quietly for a time. The only noise the humming of the dimensional engine.

'I'm sorry,' said Sammy.

Mary looked at him.

'I just wanted to get it out of you.'

'It's okay. It's true what you said. Nothing to be sorry for.'

'I think it is. But alright.'

'Now kiss and make up,' said Bob. Andy sighed derisively; Mary slapped Bob across the arm. Whatever tensor was present in their ambience popped.

'But I think it's obvious at this point,' he continued, 'that whatever that was manifests when you're in extreme danger.'

'Is this what you do? Put kids in danger?'

'The danger is all around. You weren't in any real danger of dying. Of course I wouldn't let that happen.'

Mary sat her head back. 'Hopefully I won't have to use it again.'

'Yeah,' said Bob. He went quiet for a moment. 'Hopefully.'

-

Bob stood in the front doorway, watching Mary and Sammy leave. The sun was retreating behind a thick patina of brewing storms.

'Remember,' he said. 'You're not a freak.'

Mary could smell the storms. 'I'll try.'

'It'll get easier,' said Andy. 'Come on.'

Andy chauffeured Mary and Sammy to the corner of Kelley and Leverett. They got out. Mary waved to him; he waved back, smiling slightly, and drove away. A wind was kicking up.

'I guess I'd better go home,' said Mary.

'You sure?'

'Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?'

'Alright. Just making sure you're good.'

Mary looked at Sammy. She smiled sadly and hugged him.

'You're my friend,' she said. 'You'll always be.'

Sammy rolled his eyes and smiled. When she released him he squeezed her arm and walked down Kelley.

'Wait.'

He turned.

'I know he said to come back every week for more, uh, testing. But what do I really do now? What'd you do after you found out?'

Sammy shrugged. He stared at the street. 'I lived. But that's not the point.'

Mary started to ask what he meant.

'Get home before the rain,' he interrupted. He smiled wryly and walked away.

Some days before, Sammy had been a moderately normal boy. The boy she'd known since first grade. Did he know this about himself back then, when he was six years old? Hidden within him, a parcel of unreality. More than a parcel. A half.

Mary walked towards home. During the car ride, she'd tried to conceal it. She could not stop thinking about that other Mary. Black talons, her face covered by black lines. The vision clenched her mind. It was an unforgettable nightmare dreamt in the throes of a paralytic terror.

Mary stopped at the stoop of her building. She forced her legs to ascend those steps. She stopped when she reached the patio. Miss Jones's door beckoned her attention. She turned from it. Wind tossed around the trees and the patio plants. She unlocked the door and went inside.

She halted; the lights were off. Her mother would usually be starting the rice at this hour.

'Mary,' a voice wheezed. Something was wrong.

---

Mary closed À la recherche du temps perdu. Marsha, the ER consent clerk, was talking with Mrs. Henderson. Goldie signed what was on the clipboard, handed back the pen, returned her hands to her lap shielded by her purse.

'Hi, Mary,' said Marsha. The hospital staff mostly knew her name. Mary stared coolly at her. 'Doctor Faulkner will be here soon, okay?'

'Okay.'

Mary could not open Proust again. She watched the nurses and doctors at their work; pushing gurneys with patients – breathing apparatus, neck braces, IVs inserted.

Doctor Faulkner appeared. Mary realized time had regained its flow.

'Hey, there, Mary. How you holding up?'

'Fine.'

'Mrs. Henderson, can I show you something over here.'

Goldie stood. She and the doctor walked a few feet away. Mary was not offended. She's a child, after all. She couldn't handle the details. And she wouldn't hear anything she couldn't guess or didn't already know.

Mary passed the time staring at her hands. Goldie came back and sat beside her. Dr. Faulkner followed and smiled.

'We'll need to monitor her for a few days,' said Dr. Faulkner. 'The dyspnea hasn't subsided quite yet, so we're just going to keep her on oxygen for the time being.'

'Can I bring her some things? She has to keep on her pills.'

'Sure. We'll watch her regimen.'

Mary nodded slightly.

-

The pair left the hospital with one of their overnight bags. It was midnight. Skies were clear; remnants of the thunderstorms drifted above the city lit from below in an unearthly gray lemon color. The roads were uncluttered. A rarity for Fayetteville streets. A treat brought by night.

Mary and Mrs. Henderson went through the apartment. She gathered her mother's prescriptions; toothbrush, toothpaste, a few changes of clothes. Goldie put together assorted toiletries, Vasoline, lipstick and other small beauty items.

'Is Marianne out of town or something?'

Mary cinched the hospital bag. 'She's probably asleep.'

'Not saying that I mind. But she could...I don't know, show she cares more.'

'She does care.' Mary opened the door. 'I think this is all she needs.'

-

Mary locked the front door. Wearied, she leaned her head against it for a moment. She checked her phone. Its light was a lonesome blue star in the apartment's night. Against her face a turquoise tide. Two in the morning. They had sat by her mother's side until it became apparent she wouldn't be awake anytime soon. Her mother's hand was cold and leathery. Breathing raspy, moist.

She went to her room. The backpack was on her bed; she set it on the floor. From her sock drawer, she took the hundred-dollar bill; she sat on her bed and stared into Benjamin Franklin's eyes.

A teardrop fell onto the money.

Mary took a pin from her corkboard. With its point she scraped at the spot until its only remnant was a slightly tan dyeing. She pinned the hundred on the board and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes had not left Benjamin Franklin's. Those eyes that had received all that had transpired into their depths. Eyes of a dead man. Marianne Jones's beautiful eyes. Mary's blackened sclerae.

What was it in the eyes that could carry everything they had seen? What mechanism, what component? What is it that transmits that experience to a perceptive other?

Mary went to the bathroom. She turned on the light and made solid eye contact with herself. She held those eyes like the Earth keeps the Moon tidally locked. Her fists clenched until blood seeped from her palms.

Fatigue hit her. She felt like curling into and under a shell or a stone. Resting for a couple of centuries.

She turned out the lights and climbed into bed. Wind rattled the windowpane. She listened to this until she discovered – it was morning, and the wind had stopped.