MirrorWorld

That means I’ve got only one possible escape route—the river. And who knows if it will even bring me in the right direction, or if I won’t have my back broken against a stone five seconds after getting back in the water?

But no choice means no choice. As much as I don’t like the idea of being battered by the rough waters or drowned beneath them, I refuse to give in now. Sure, I could survive in this little world for a time. I’d die from hypothermia long before I starved, and I certainly wouldn’t die from lack of water. But I’d be letting the Dread have Maya without a fight, and if she’s still around when Dread Squad arrives …

I sigh and roll onto my back.

Despite the pitch black, I close my eyes and see Maya. Her smiling face. Her hands full of pumpkin gore, dripping freshly pillaged seeds. I wait, holding a carving knife, while Simon digs his small hands into the open gourd. He’s the closest thing I’ve seen to a true Halloween zombie. I smile at the memory. It returned recently, probably while I was being bashed about in the river.

“I’m sorry,” I say into the darkness, warm tears on my cheeks. Dammit. I miss that kid.

Miss his mother, too …

I see the entire past year, spent in SafeHaven in a new light. Despite the company of Shotgun Jones and Seymour, I was very alone. My lack of fear and memory prevented me from experiencing it, but now that my memories are returning and I’m able to feel a full range of emotions, remembering that time is heartbreaking, lonely, and desperate. Looking back even further, I can see that my life before Maya was much the same. I depended on myself, leaned on my fearless nature to get past struggles. My own strength carried me. But when I found Maya, that changed. I was still fearless, but she removed the burden of self-sufficiency. She became my strength. So did Simon. Is that why I ran away? Despite my lack of fear, did I become powerless? Weak? It’s not impossible, and I certainly wouldn’t have feared ridicule for my mental retreat.

But Maya wasn’t gone. She was alive. She needed me. Why would I have run from that? I still can’t remember, but I’m not going to make the same mistake again.

I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.

I roll myself into the river, content that it will either carry me where I need to go or usher me into the afterlife, from which I will do my best to torment the Dread for what they’ve taken from me.





52.

Relaxing my body, I let myself drift through the darkness. I’m slammed into a side wall as the river takes a sharp left turn. That’s when I start checking the mirror world for open spaces. With my vision in the Dread world, I watch scores of glowing vein-roots slip past in a blur.

The river batters me. The pain radiating through my body hides the burning in my lungs for a minute, but the ache to breathe soon dwarfs all other feelings. I crush my lips together, clinging to the air, absorbing each and every molecule of oxygen.

I hold on, watching the subterranean mirror world slide past. I’m seconds from taking a breath. Seconds from death. Lights appear in my vision, choreographed twirling spots. It’s almost beautiful. But I can’t see. My view of the mirror world slides to black.

No time left, I think. No time!

I shift.

And stop.

Locked in densely packed earth. The only question left is, Which world do I want to die in? Home, I think. I’ll drown and be carried by the river, maybe ejected out to sea and found by a fisherman. Maybe I’ll even get a burial. Or perhaps just feed a hungry shark. As my mind starts to slip away, I focus on returning home one last time.

Then I feel it.

My foot can move!

I slip back into the river, am tugged down hard. My mouth opens, sucking in water. As my body goes rigid, I shift back to the mirror world, leaving the river behind but carrying along the water in my lungs.

I fall for just a moment and land on a hard surface.

My body shakes, desperate to breathe, but unable to because of the water in my lungs. Still fading, it takes all of my remaining energy and willpower to roll myself over onto my hands and knees. My gut and chest convulse silently, pumping water out of my lungs, and then I can breathe.

That first breath of ammonia-scented air fills my lungs so hard and fast that I sound like a broken trumpet, announcing my arrival to any Dread in the area. I cough hard, expelling more water and the precious air too soon. My vision fades. I breathe hard a second time. The veins covering the floor beneath me come into focus. After three more gasping breaths, I get my body under control, still heaving but no longer doing an impression of a wounded wildebeest.

It’s a full minute before I can even think about doing something other than breathing. And then a single thought explodes into my mind. I’m alive. Rewinding recent history, I faced down four bulls, a swamp full of Dread crocs, and angry Dread bulls, and I was nearly drowned and / or buried alive.