EIGHTEEN
I HAD THOUGHT THE city was silent, but I didn’t understand silence until that moment. As I took my first few steps into the soaring lobby, I imagined this was what it felt like to be completely deaf. My boots faltered noiselessly, and I knelt quickly to brace myself.
And immediately had to suppress the urge to barf.
When my fingers hit the floor, I realized why it was so difficult to keep my balance: it was soft and slick, a living thing. I stood up quickly, fighting my gag reflex as I wiped my hand against my pants.
Remembering Ana’s advice, I took careful steps deeper into the cavernous mouth of the building. I thought about turning back to wait for Malachi and Ana, but as I looked toward the door, all I saw was a smooth wall.
It was pulsing, thrumming gently.
Just a thousand more miles of weird. Keep moving forward. Don’t stop, and don’t freak out.
The air was saturated, wet and warm. It settled into my skin and onto my tongue, sour and rank.
Then I recognized the smell.
I bowed my head and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep it together as my heart rate accelerated painfully. The air was full of Rick. His breath: beer and cigarettes. His scent: stale sweat and gasoline.
Keep moving forward, Lela, it’s not real. My fingernails bit deeply into my palms as I stumbled onward, no longer trying to fight the helpless retching that doubled me over every few steps.
When I felt his hands on me, I spun around, lost my balance, and ended up on my back. And when I looked down, my armor and boots were gone. I was wearing that too-tight, too-short nightgown Rick always made me put on before I went to bed. He was here. He would hurt me again. I screamed with noiseless terror.
No no no, I argued silently with myself. This is not real.
I spent a moment trying to calm down, squinting up at the strange carvings on the ceiling of the dimly lit lobby. They squirmed—undulating shadows. What if they were coming to get me?
My feet slid as they tried to gain traction on the slimy floor.
Breathe and get up. Get up.
I stopped flailing, forcing myself into more deliberate movements. I slowly rolled to my stomach and got to my hands and knees. I was covered in blood and slime. I sat back, frantically wiping my hands, desperate to scrape it off. But the memories hung from me in sticky ropes. They webbed my hands, caught between my fingers. I couldn’t get away from the smell.
Then his weight was at my back, pressing me into pink sheets, buckling my arms and trying to force my face into my own pillow.
It’s not real, I chanted as I pushed back and got up unsteadily, limbs shaking, teeth chattering in the warm, humid air. Keep walking. I barely lifted my feet as I slid along the squishy organ of the floor, gelatinous ooze squishing between my toes. This will not beat me. Memories cannot kill me. I am stronger than that. I clenched my teeth. I am stronger than that, and that is why I am here.
I walked, back stiff against the assault of his hands, his body. Ah, Holy Mother, I wanted to lash out, just as I had the night I’d finally fought back. I wanted to smash his face, to kick, to tear, to destroy him. My muscles cramped with the desire to attack. But he wasn’t really there, and if I gave in to that instinct, I’d lose my balance and end up on my back in the slime again. Keep walking. You’ve already defeated this ghost.
The sound of Rick’s voice dropped me to my knees. “This is your fault for flaunting it in front of me. Keep quiet, you little slut.”
Rick’s voice droned on, telling me all the reasons I deserved it. All the reasons I wouldn’t tell anyone. All the reasons it was my fault. All the reasons I’d asked for it. And no one would care because I was just a throwaway, a disposable girl.
My fingers curled over the veined floor. It bled.
Rick’s voice got louder. It was coming from inside my skull. He was in there with me.
I clutched at my head, hair tearing loose under my fingers.
I had to dig him out.
Look around; find the way out, a different voice said.
Malachi’s voice.
I froze, searching the gloom. Had he followed me in? Was he coming for me?
No, I was alone, but I clung to his voice desperately. Something about it eased the pain in my head a little, enough for me to get to my feet, holding my arms out for balance.
Find the way out. Keep walking. This isn’t real.
It got worse, every touch sinking in, every shove and pinch and push and grab and twist and I fell to my knees again a few steps later, surprised my head wasn’t splitting open. I can’t, I thought. I can’t take this.
Yes, you can, whispered Malachi, his voice sliding beneath the nauseating rhythm pulsing inside my skull. It’s not real. You are strong enough. Get on your feet. You’re almost there.
I screamed again, this time in anger—a battle cry. I stomped against the slick skin of the building, driving my heels into its flesh.
With every lift of my foot, I chanted, I am strong enough.
With every breath, I repeated, This is not real.
Up. Down. In. Out.
When my voice failed me, Malachi’s filled in, completing the sentences, adding the missing words.
But with every step, more of the building’s tissue stuck to my feet. It got harder to lift them. The floor was sucking me down, breathing me in, swallowing and digesting me. I wanted to give up. I suddenly knew that if I stopped struggling, everything else would stop, too. If I didn’t fight anymore, I could just lie there forever, entombed in silence.
This evil building was offering me a choice: all the horror would end if I lay still and let it have me. It was tempting. I was so tired. And the assault, more than memory now, seemed like it would never end. I didn’t know how much more I could take without breaking completely. It would be nice to rest. To sleep.
To be done with everything.
With that wish, it was like my eyes were opened for the first time. I looked at the walls, the ceiling, the floor…and I saw. Thousands of people, interwoven, eyes closed, at rest. Backs and fronts and arms and legs and hands and hair. They were the squishy surface beneath my feet, all melded together and smoothed over by a sticky membrane. They were the undulating shadows on the ceiling and walls. They were the reason the building was so immense. They were its conquests, its sustenance, its backbone. Sleeping for eternity, no more pain, no more…anything.
And instead of being horrified, I was drawn in. A wave of sleepiness rolled over me and I fell to one knee and welcomed it. My heart beat sluggishly, ready to fall silent forever.
Don’t give up, pleaded Malachi’s voice, cracking with desperation. Please don’t give up. I’m right on the other side of the door. I want to see you again. I need to see you again. Please.
Somehow, it was enough to draw me to my feet one more time. Just the idea he might need me to make it through. I could see him again if only I kept moving.…My face smacked against a hard surface.
A door.
I ripped it open and fell through it, nerveless and panting.
Malachi caught me in his arms and carried me away from the mouth of the building. He sat down on the curb, holding me against his chest. He wasn’t wearing his armor anymore. His smell, leather and clean, warm skin, filled my nose, replacing the choking stench of Rick. I sucked in deep lungfuls of it, unable to get enough.
His hands ran over me, and as they did, I noticed I wasn’t wearing that terrible too-tight, too-short nightgown after all. I was wearing the Guard uniform. My clothes and armor were clean and intact. I’d thought I was covered in the building’s saliva, but I was completely dry.
Malachi gasped, and his fingers closed around mine. Silently, he pulled away several long, curling strands of hair tangled around my fingers. He touched my palms gently, running his fingertips over the bloody divots left by my fingernails. He put his hand on my cheek and tilted my face up to his.
I stared at him shamelessly, sinking deep into the black-brown depths of his eyes. They were filled with concern. For me. I can’t describe how that felt to me. I almost burst into tears but managed to cling to my cool with white-tipped fingers.
Malachi searched my face, as if he wasn’t sure I was all there. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
“That really sucked,” I mumbled hoarsely.
“Yes, I think that just about captures the experience.” He squeezed me tighter. It felt incredibly good.
My brain came back online, and I started to process what I was seeing. He was very pale. “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve been through there hundreds of times, so it’s not as bad as it once was. I get through pretty quickly. But I almost didn’t make it out the first few times.”
“How did you get past me? I went in first.”
“I probably walked right by you without either of us knowing. You are always alone in there, left to fight your own worst memories. It’s why the Mazikin are so terrified of this place. They can’t handle both their own memories and those of their human hosts. They never make it through.”
I looked up at the menacing black silhouette of the tower, imagining what Malachi might have seen as he walked through the building. For me, the Holocaust was history. For him, it was memory.
I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face against his neck, wishing I could chase away his memories and keep him safe. His pulse raced against my cheek, and his breath rushed out in a huff.
He froze for a moment, but then put his hand on the back of my head. He held me there, comforting me, maybe comforting himself.
“I was getting worried,” he said. “I went in after you. I tried to call you back and explain more about it, but you were already gone. I’m so sorry I didn’t explain it earlier. I should have tackled you when you bolted for the door.” He drew in a shaky breath. “It took you a long time to get through.”
“I almost gave up. And I saw…” I didn’t want to describe what I’d seen.
He stroked my hair for a moment, then seemed to catch himself and pulled his hand away. “I know what you saw. Some cannot bear to re-experience the worst parts of their lives. They lie down and give up. The building, it…”
“Eats them?”
“Well, yes.” He looked down at me. “I don’t think it hurts.”
“No, it looked like…nothing. Like not existing. It was really tempting for a few seconds there. I wanted all of it to stop. But then I heard you talking to me.” His eyebrows shot up, and I paused. “You weren’t talking to me?”
He shook his head. “You heard my voice? You’re sure it was mine?”
“Yes. It’s what got me through. You told me to keep walking. And you…” I trailed off, not sure I wanted to tell him the rest, as it appeared to be a figment of my imagination.
He shivered against me. “Never mind,” I said quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m better than I was, now that you’re through. I guess I should be honored that you came up with my voice to help you do it.”
I ducked my head, totally embarrassed. “Sure, anytime.” I looked around. “Where’s Ana?”
“She always runs through and then needs some extra time to clear her head. She’ll be back soon.”
I was becoming increasingly aware of how close we were to each other, of how his arms were tight around me, of how little effort it would take to close the distance completely. Heat pooled in my cheeks.
“I think I’m all right now,” I said quietly. He raised an eyebrow in question, as if the intimacy of our position hadn’t occurred to him. Then his gaze fell to my cheeks, and he noticed my blush.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as he set me down on the curb and got to his feet, like he suddenly needed the distance. He walked over to a pile of gear heaped on the sidewalk and put his armor on again, all smooth, efficient movement. His body had a grace all its own; every motion had its purpose. I sighed and wiped my mouth, wondering if the drool was visible from a distance.
“Ah, Lela made it through. Good girl,” Ana called out as she approached. Her face looked a little raw, like she’d been scrubbing at it. What had she seen as she went through the tower? She saw me looking and swiped a hand across her cheek, like she thought there might be a stubborn tear still clinging there. She gave me a tense smile. “Glad to see you’re not fatally damaged.”
I winced at her description. For some reason, I wished Malachi hadn’t heard it. He pretended he hadn’t and appeared entirely focused on getting ready to resume our trek through the city.
Ana held out her hand, offering to pull me from the curb. “It’s always hardest the first time. Now you know what to expect. And you know you’re stronger than it is.” I accepted the help and rose to my feet. Ana looked me over. “We’ll have to rebraid your hair tonight, girl. You did a number on yourself in there.”
I put my hand to my hair, abruptly understanding that I probably looked like a total freak show. I hadn’t thought about it while Malachi held me. The way he looked at me made me feel…beautiful. Now I felt anything but.
Almost frantically, I pulled the rubber band from the bottom of the braid and ran my fingers through my hair. I bent over and shook it out, letting it fall heavily around me. It bounced happily around my face, delighted to be released.
When I raised my head, Malachi was watching me. The look on his face took my breath away and brought the heat back to my cheeks…and everywhere else.
He turned away quickly. “Ladies, let’s go. We’ve got to make good time if we’re going to get to Harag tonight.” He shouldered his pack and walked up the street.