The helpful young man, snorts, an oddly inelegant sound coming from someone as courtly looking as he. "That's the self-righteous for you," he tells Erin, "strong on advice but short on practical help." He reaches out his hand again and she grabs it fiercely. Anything to escape the wreck.
Now on her own two feet she looks down at herself. There is no blood, no broken bones, and no lacerations, only a nasty headache and a slight dizziness. "Thank you," she says to the beautiful young man. "I thought I was dead for sure."
"That remains to be decided," says TooTrue gesturing with his head. All three turn to observe the first responders. They are working frantically over her poor car which is wrapped obscenely around a battered Hummer.
"I don't understand," she says, although she is afraid that she does. "I'm alive." Her voice is high pitched verging on loss of control.
"Yes, yes." TooTrue is impatient, perhaps irritated at being pulled away from something more important. "For now," he adds.
"What does he mean?" she appeals to the good looking, elegantly dressed, young man.
Before he can answer, TooTrue says, "Touch and go, don't you know." He sounds bored. But it's her life he is talking about.
The young man smiles gently at her, a beautiful smile, warm and inviting with a hint of humor. "It's a choice, you see."
"I get to choose between living and dying?"
"That's pretty much up to them," says TooTrue. He gestures again at the men now working with the Jaws of Life, tearing apart her little car, trying to reach... but there is no one there.
"If I'm dead, where's my body? The car is empty. I'm out here not crushed in my car."
"As I said, it's a choice."
"I don't understand."
"I'll explain, sweetheart."
Now TooTrue snorts. He says in a high pitched, scratchy voice "You, girl, I would like to point out that everything Nick says will not necessarily lead you to the truth."
"Nick?"
"Nicholas," says the handsome, young man with a graceful bow. "TooTrue is a clever fellow. Even his name is clever, and not to be taken literally." He sighs rather theatrically. "I regret to say you find yourself smack in the middle of one of the oldest riddles known to humankind. An unenviable position.
"What riddle?"
Nick smiles at her. "There once were two identical twins. One twin could not tell a lie, the other could not tell the truth. Each twin stands before a doorway, guarding it. In the middle is a sign saying, one door leads to safety, the other to death. Ask what you will, but only one question per twin. Choose wisely.
"But everyone knows how to solve it."
"Do they?" Nick smiles.
TooTrue glowers.
"Yes," she says. "It's easy, the traveler asks one twin, 'If I ask your brother which is the safe door, what will he say? The twin answers, 'He will say take the left door.' So the traveler walks through the right door and is safe. Easy."
Nick smiles at her again, "Of course it's easy."
"You're a fool," TooTrue grunts at her.
She is beginning to dislike TooTrue.
"But what's the point of it? What do I win when I solve your riddle?"
"You get to choose," say both Nick and TooTrue almost, but not quite, simultaneously. Their words echo each other.
"I just want to live," she cries.
"Then don't choose him," says TooTrue. "He'll waltz with you on the path to Hell."
"On the path, yes. But in which direction," says Nick with a laugh.
"Hell?"
She looks uncertainly at Nick.
"Don't you recognize him?” asks TooTrue. “Look at his fine clothes, his sly expression, his graceful form and handsome face. Where do you think following him will take you?"
Nick has stopped smiling and is staring at TooTrue, shaking his head more in sorrow than in anger.
She looks from one to the other.
"A fair question," says Nick. "Another questions is, where do you think following TooTrue will take you, Erin?"
"You know my name."
"I know everything about you."
"Except how you will choose," says TooTrue.
Erin takes a good, long look at TooTrue. He is a tall, skinny man, surprisingly young considering his gruffness. As she watches, he scratches his arms and neck. His skin is a blotchy pink, as if he suffers from the heartache of psoriasis. His hair is thin and dry looking, mousy brown in color. He wears what looks like a grubby bed sheet, his feet are bare and his toenails need cutting. There is a faint odor of garlic and sweat. Erin fights a horrible urge to giggle. A blind date nightmare. She looks back at Nick.
He winks at her. "I agree TooTrue doesn't look like much, but he and his gang have an incredible PR machine."
"Are you saying I have to choose between the two of you?"
"Give that girl a cigar," Nick waggles his eyebrows and smiles, pleased with his rather feeble Groucho imitation.
"And one of you always tells the truth and one of you always lies?"
"Too damn literal," mutters TooTrue.
Nick laughs. "No, my beautiful Erin, we both are capable of telling the truth."
"And lying?"
"Actually no," says Nick. "Tell her, TooTrue."
"We tell the truth, yes," says TooTrue grudgingly.
"But do we tell the whole truth?" Nick shrugs. "It's up to you to ask the right questions. After all, it's your soul."Nick is enjoying the situation. It's obvious to Erin that he lives for these duels of possession.
TooTrue, seems self-righteously bored. But something tells her he that wants to win as badly as Nick.
Erin looks around her. The first responders are still working on her car. They have strung lights around the area so it's as bright as day. She can see the sweat staining the underarms of their shirts and rolling off their red faces as they fight desperately to save her.
But beyond the string of lights all she sees is a gray, hazy mist. It's as if the broken cars and the desperate men exist on a tiny, solid asteroid adrift in a haze of infinity or fantasy… Or madness. Looking down she sees only as far as her feet.
There's nothing below. I'm standing on nothing!
Vertigo sweeps over her, she sways as a cold sweat slicks her body, nausea threatens. She reaches out her hands for support but to her surprise both Nick and TooTrue take a step back from her.
What?