7:6
Kim
A carbon nanotube beach-tumbleweed, a kinetic sculpture that never stops shifting and changing its configuration, it is easy to get lost in the chaos of her mind. Keep your feet moving, your arms churning, and always keep a step ahead so the spun-sugar strands the color of a happy childhood don’t catch you.
But they always catch you. The thought played through Kim’s mind as she slowly came back to the reality of darkness and pain, the uneven gait of her breath sawing into and out of her lungs and the even steady drumbeat of a heart that refused to stop pumping.
The rigor from the Pulse relaxed and she could breathe again. Over the ringing in her ears, Kim heard the sounds of leaving. She waited. One count. Two. Her shoulders relaxed against the table. The back of her head seemed to melt as the tension faded from her neck and shoulders. Her wide-open eyes searched the darkness, her ears straining to hear the sound of breathing, indicating that They – the one who always stayed – was there still. A subtle shift of sound, a piece of paper whisking over a hard surface, the scratch of a pen, confirmed. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was Them – the one not the other two, and yes, that was the best she could do considering they always sat in shadow obscuring their features – but she did.
“So, what’s the plan here? I’m not budging. You’re not budging. We’re not budging.”
“We don’t need you to budge. We need you to break. And we’re very good at breaking things.”
This was how all their conversations went. Two voices, disembodied, in the dark. Kim didn’t know how long she’d been here. She was pretty sure they were doing something to dilate time. But, for how ever long it had been they’d already set up this pattern. Her, lying on a real uncomfortable table, subconsciously aware of the threads stabbing her like hundreds of whisker-thin iv lines. Them, somewhere ‘over there’, their voice a mixture of boredom and amusement, the combination complex and somehow very ‘them’ – like a perfume that had been blended by a master nose.
Perhaps it was the isolation. The darkness depriving the senses. Like a sensory deprivation tank that dulled the senses, made for relaxation of body and defenses. Capsized on the sea of darkness, floating in the nothing that had no beginning, no end, an ocean far from land, from rescue, she found herself anticipating that disembodied voice, like it was a lifeline. And wasn’t that just fucked?
“You can’t break me. I’m already broken. You could break the pieces but, trust me, when you do they don’t fit back together.”
“That’s some artistic. Can I get that in a greeting card?” A rustle of cloth, the shift of a body in a seat. “Your youth exhausts me.”
“You don’t talk like them.”
“We aren’t cut from the same cloth.”
“So, why are you with them?”
“I made a mistake. The kind you don’t fix.”
“Well, that’s some defeatist, shit.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“So, I’d know it when I see it. Or hear it. Or whatever.”
“You should stop fighting.”
“I can’t.” She stared wide-eyed at nothing, contemplating the emptiness inside and out, then sighed. “You should let me go.”
“I can’t.”
“So, we’re at an impasse.”
“Seems like.”
Silence reigned, punctuated by the sound of their breathing. The rhythm of it, the rise and fall, was almost meditative, creating a rhythm that had Kim drifting somewhere between here and there. When their voice broke the rhythm, she turned her head to give a kitten weak disgruntled glare in the general vicinity of the darkness from which it originated.
“I can’t go against the Paradigm.”
“Well, that’s random,” Kim said, then hurried to correct. They were sharing. Something. What, she had no clue. But something. She wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. Or shutting them up. “I’ve heard that before. Paradigm. What is it?”
“Is this where I reveal the depths and breadths of our evil plan?”
“Works for me.”
“Not happening.”
Silence again. Kim listened to her heartbeat, slow and steady, matching the rhythm of her breathing. She amused herself thinking she could hear theirs as well, though that was really just her being fanciful. Weren’t no one’s heart that strong.
“Why do you talk to me?”
“I’m bored?”
“Not trying to make me feel like we have something? A connection? Something that will make me do what you want?”
“Would you?”
“Fuck you.”
“You going to attack me? Set me on fire?”
“No.” Kim settled her head against the table, closed her eyes. “I’m not angry anymore.”
“Maybe that Jedi choke thing you did? That was interesting.”
“Also a no on that. Why? Do you want me to attack you? Do you have a death wish?”
“You ask too many questions.”
They started humming, a lilting melody. Then they started singing. And it was… Magickal. Their voice, deep, rich, with a subtle burr transformed the first lines of the Beatles Blackbird into something more than words.
Not again. Kim steeled herself to resist the siren song of the voice. She scrunched up her face. She tightened her abdominals. It still got in, digging into her brain like the worst ear worm.
She tried drowning it out with a litany of “fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou”. It just ate right through that defense, like water to cotton candy.
As they sang the next line, tight shoulders loosened. Spine straightened. Head fell back. Kim drifted to sleep to the sound of that rich, deep, dark seduction.
*
Ivan reached out on instinct as Siobhan stepped into the closet. He tensed, prepared for her to disappear or fall into a hole or scream or pass out or about twenty other scenarios that flashed through his mind one blink to the next. None of them happened. Instead she just stood there, legs braced so her feet wouldn’t slide on the pile of clothes on the floor.
“See anything?” he called to her.
“Clothes?” When he sighed, she grinned. “A light overhead. More clothes.” She stooped and routed around in the clothes. “A book.”
“Which one?”
“The Wolves of Willoughby Chase.”
“Published-” Dan worked the toothpick like he was chasing tips, “1962. Joan Aiken’s second novel. It’s a kids’ book.”
“Anything else?” Ivan asked.
Dan lifted his shoulders. “I think I read it?”
“I think you’ve read everything,” Gwen said in reply.
“Not everything.” Dan rubbed the back of his neck. “I think the main theme is oppressed girls beating the odds to save themselves.”
“Hmm.” Siobhan shoved the book into her bag, then carefully stepped off the slippery pile of clothes then leaned out to snag the doorknob. She stepped back into the closet, pulling the door towards her. Its swing stopped about two inches from closing. She tugged on the knob and the door swung back enough for Gwen to shove her face into the crack between door and jam.
“Nobody goes anywhere alone.”
“It’s a closet!”
Gwen let go the doorknob and crossed her arms, her expression mulish. “No one goes anywhere alone.”
“Fine!” Siobhan threw up a hand, “Get in here.”
She reached out and tapped Gwen’s upper arm. Gwen unfolded her arms and pushed the door wide enough that she could step in then turned to face front, tunneling her head into the hanging clothes so a sweater draped over one shoulder and a plastic hanger poked her in the head. “All set.”
Siobhan grinned and stepped back out to grab the doorknob. “Back in a sec!” she announced, stepped back, and pulled the door shut.
Ivan waited “a sec”. He waited a total of thirty whole “secs”, contemplating the pale wood of the door. After another ten “secs” he slanted a glance to Ben who’d come to stand at his side.
“How much time does someone need to check out the inside of a closet?” he asked his best friend.
Ben lifted a shoulder, then scratched at his ear. “Not this long?”
“Right!” Ivan knocked on the door. There was no answering call or sarcastic yell or knock back. There was, in fact, no response.
Heart dropping towards his gut, Ivan grabbed the doorknob, twisting it hard, and yanked the door open. To reveal a pile of clothes on the floor, other clothes hanging on a rod, and not a single Gwen or Siobhan.
Eyes wide, Ivan turned to Ben. Ben turned to Ivan. Dove into the closet, hands pushing clothes along rod to reveal a back wall. His movements became frantic as he ran his hands along the wall. Stooped. Ran his fingers over where the back wall met the sides. Grabbed clothes from the floor and flung them behind him where they draped over Ivan and Patti who had stepped in to the space Ben had been.
Ben ran his hands over the side walls. Shook his head. Grabbed the doorknob and started pulling the door closed. Patti balled up the clothes he had thrown on her and shoved them into the gap of the door, effectively blocking it from closing.
“Nope. Not happening.”
Ivan curled his fingers around the edge of the door and pried it open, snatching the doorknob out of Ben’s hands. Ben narrowed an eye, balled a hand at his side. “I will hit you.”
“You’ll hit me?” Patti feigned hurt.
“I meant Ivan.”
“Good. I’d hate to enact Junior High memories of Seven Minutes in Heaven with someone who’d sock me.” She thrust the balled up clothes into Ben’s hands and elbowed her way past him to step into the closet. She turned around, crossed her arms, and stared forward. When Ben didn’t immediately move to get the door she said, “What are you waiting for?”
Ben snapped off a quick look at her, then lunged out to grab the doorknob. “Give us ten seconds. If we don’t come out, come and get us.”
That said he pulled the door closed. Ivan quite literally gave them ten seconds then snatched the door open. To reveal no Ben. No Patti. Just a pile of clothes on the floor and some clothes pushed to the side on a rod to reveal the back wall of the closet.
“Fuck!” He stepped back and swept his gaze over Prairie, Dan, Dempsey, and Abe, half hidden in the long shadow Dempsey cast.
“So, looks like we’re entering a closet. Prairie?”
“Yes?”
“Closet?”
Prairie tilted her head back to give him a close-mouthed smile that popped her dimples. “I thought you’d never ask.”
*
Siobhan stared at the closed door. Waited.
Gwen crossed her arms and stared at the door too. “Should something jump out at us?”
“Worse case?” Siobhan lifted her brows. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
Gwen clicked her tongue then started humming. “The Girl from Ipanema”. Siobhan clicked her fingers at her side and joined in.
At the point in the song Gwen sang, “Goes ‘a-a-a-h.” Then she slanted a glance at Siobhan. “How much longer we gonna wait?”
Siobhan shrugged and looked around, the hanging clothes batting her in the face as she turned. “Let’s go.”
So saying, she grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open.
“Nothi-” her announcement stuttered to a stop and her gaze darted hard enough to hurt as she noted the empty room in front of them. She snapped her head to the side, her wide-eyes meeting Gwen’s.
“Where’d they go?” Gwen asked, all slow.
“Or where’d we go?” Siobhan said, nearly as slow.
“Okay.” Gwen thrust her plunger in front of her. “On two?”
Siobhan nodded and fumbled a vial off her bag strap. “Two!”
Gwen surged from the closet, yelling “Wah!”
A sweater wrapped around her foot from the pile on the floor, almost tripping her up. Without slowing, she kicked back, flicking the sweater off in one move and lunging forward with the same leg in the other. Siobhan came tumbling out after her, vial held back at ear-level, her head moving left to right and back again, assessing for danger.
“There’s furniture.” Gwen said, relaxing her stance just a little and lowering the plunger to the ground as she stared around the room.
“And wall hangings.” Siobhan nodded, her gaze skittering over said hangings. “And no doors.”
“Still got the window.” Gwen stomped over to the window, leaned on the sill, and looked out. “And a really long drop.”
Steps tentative, head still on the swivel for any danger, Siobhan moved over to stand beside Gwen and look out. “Big drop.”
Resting her hand on the sill, she turned her head to look at Gwen. “Do we assume the others are going to realize we aren’t coming out and follow?”
“That would be good. You think it will happen?”
“Maybe?”
“Yeah,” Gwen shifted so her butt was on the seat built into the sill. “Ivan will look for something to stab. Dan will say something quiet, short, and open to interpretation. Prairie will say ‘I’m sure it’s fine,” and do that smile thing she does that makes you think everything *is* fine. Then Ben will start running his hands all over the closet like it has secret pockets to pilfer. That Dempsey dude will stand there looking dumb.” She lifted her brows. “Maybe scratch his ass. Maybe scratch his head. Probably say something like, “Where’d they go?”.” At Siobhan’s look of subtle approbation, she shrugged. “Can’t say what for that Abe. And then Patti will be sensible and suggest stepping into the closet. I give them two minutes. Three tops.”
Siobhan turned and propped herself up on the window seat next to Gwen with her hands braced on the edge, kicking her legs out and her heels against the wall. “Nice cushion.”
“Yep.” Gwen stared intently at the closet. “Any minute now.”
The minute stretched to two. To three. Still nothing.
With nothing better to do beside wait, Siobhan ran her gaze over the room, assessing. There was a bed fit for a princess against the wall equidistant between the closet door and the window, with heavy violet velvet curtains extending from a box-like construction in the ceiling above it. It was possible for things to hide in those curtains or the shadow they cast, so Siobhan gave them extra attention.
When nothing jumped out or moved, she moved on from the bed to look at the bedside tables to either side, the fancy wardrobes that flanked both taking up real-estate between the window and the door respectively. At the foot of the bed a velvet upholstered bench sat, gently curving white wood . Across from the bed the wall was nothing but floor to ceiling shelves, the majority lined with books though there were a few small trinkets or art objects scattered within. Two wing-backed chairs, also in violet velvet, with white woodwork were set in front of the shelves, just waiting for someone to sit and read. All in all, it was a very inviting room, one Siobhan could imagine a young girl loving.
“Maybe we need to closet the closet door?” Siobhan suggested.
“Maybe?” Gwen popped off the window seat, moved to close the door, then sat back down next to Siobhan, nudging her with her shoulder. “You good?”
Siobhan rubbed the corner of her eyebrow, then resituated her flower wreath more firmly on her head. “Enough.”
Gwen turned her head slightly to give Siobhan a cock-eyed look. “You forget who you’re talking to?”
Siobhan heaved a sigh and actively scrubbed at her brow with stiff fingers. “This thing.” She gestured around the space. “Hits a little close.”
Gwen nodded like a bobble-head, her lips squished up.
Siobhan snorted. “You look like a chicken.”
Gwen’s “Bawk bawk!” made Siobhan snort again, smile, and shake her head. She folded her hands, then tapped the fingers of her right over the left at the knuckle. “I’m fixating on what she’s going through.”
Gwen’s expression smoothed into one of sincere understanding. “Will fixating help at all? Her or you?”
Siobhan kept her gaze trained on the movement of her fingers, shook her head ‘no’.
“Then,” Gwen said, leaning back and spreading her elbows at her sides. “Stop if you can. And if you can’t then let me help. Can you do that?”
“Stop?” Siobhan bit her lip, looked inward. “No.”
“Okay.” Gwen lifted her hand, fingers relaxed, and slowly edged it towards Siobhan. “I’m going to touch your shoulder. You good with that?”
Siobhan lifted her gaze to look at Gwen. First her hand, then her face, then her hand again. Then she nodded.
Moving slowly, Gwen moved her hand to Siobhan’s shoulder, curling the fingers very slightly. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. From one second to the next Siobhan felt a blunting of the fear that she hadn’t even realized was spiking along her spinal cord. Her shoulders dropped back, her back straightened, and she took a full breath for the first time in… well a while.
Gwen sat back, a smile on her face, and dusted her hands off on each other. “Better?”
Still enjoying the fullness of breath, Siobhan just nodded.
It was then that the door across from them opened. Gwen snatched up her plunger and slid off the window seat to take up a defensive posture. Siobhan hovered a hand over her bag strap, ready to snatch and throw. For a long moment nothing happened then Ben stepped out of the closet in a crouch, daggers at the ready. Patti came out almost immediately after, her punch shield held out with her left and her cudgel with her right. Sass leaned on the windowsill of its small house, posture one of alert readiness.
Gwen relaxed. “Heh-ay!”
“Hey,” Patti replied, voice tentative.
“There’s furniture.” Ben announced.
Siobhan nodded, sitting back on the window seat. “There is.”
“And wall hangings.”
“Um-huh.”
“Why is there furniture and wall hangings?”
“Interior design choices?”
Ben stood to his full height, dropped his weight back to the standard slouch, and gave Siobhan an ‘Oh really?” look.
Gwen hopped back onto the window seat next to Siobhan. “You should take a seat. There’s, what, nine of us? Giving the others zero time to question ‘Where’d Ben go? Where’s Patti’ it will still probably be a few minutes before everyone goes into the closet then and out of it here. Assuming the closet keeps opening to the same place.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Siobhan muttered to her.
“I hadn’t really either, but…” Gwen shrugged then made air quotes, “Magick.” When neither Patti nor Ben moved, she gestured at the cushiony chairs set up near built in bookcases. “The chairs look comfortable. And until you close the closet door I don’t think anyone else can come out.”
“Oh!” Patti said then leaned back and closed the closet door. That done she lowered her shield, hooked her cudgel to her belt, and moved to sit in one of the chairs. As she pressed her head against the wing back, Ben started making a circuit of the room, ducking to look under furniture, pulling books off the shelf, perusing them for a second, then replacing them.
Patti started humming, something lyrical. Siobhan yawned, raising a hand to quickly trap it behind her hand.
“Is that Blackbird?” Gwen asked.
Patti let off humming, turned her head to look at Gwen, and nodded. “Yes. It keeps drifting through my brain. At least it’s a pretty song.”
Siobhan yawned again, a real jaw cracker, then lowered her hand and looked at Ben. “You should sit. We probably have six floors to go down and who knows what we’re going to find when we do. Grab a rest while you can.”
Ben paused in his restless prowling and looked at Siobhan, punching a fist at his thigh like it was a drum and he could beat out marching orders on it. “The longer we take the longer they have her.”
Sympathy rose in Siobhan. “I more than anyone gets that.”
“Yeah,” Ben stopped the beating and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
Siobhan shrugged it off. “We’re all stressed and we all want to find her.”
“Do you want some help taking the edge off?” Gwen called over to Ben, brandishing some energetic jazz hands in his direction.
Ben shook his head in the negative. “I need the edge.”
“Cool.”
They all tensed slightly as the door across the room opened. Again there was the long delay then Prairie stepped slowly out of the closet, poking her head around the door’s edge to look around with Ivan looming close behind.
“There’s furniture,” was the first words out of Ivan’s mouth.
Ben nodded. “There is.”
“Why’s there furniture?”
Ben offered Siobhan’s earlier response. “Interior design choices?” and got pretty close to the same response from Ivan that Siobhan had gotten from him which involved some eye roll and lifted brow.
Prairie showed none of the trepidation every other person had when finding a room outside the closet different than the one she’d left. Instead she walked across the space and took a seat next to Patti. She folded her hands in her lap and gave the room a visual assessment.
“Hey, Ivan?” Gwen called.
“Yes?”
“Close the door? We don’t think it works until you do.”
“Oh!” So saying Ivan closed the door and joined Ben in his wandering around the room. “I could use a drink,” he said to Ben, getting a “Me too,” in response.
Siobhan caught this exchange and it made her realize she was thirsty too. “We should all drink and do whatever to get ready.” Then for the two newcomers she repeated what she’d suggested to Patti and Ben, “There’s probably six floors beneath us and we don’t know what we’re going to face on them so being topped up is probably smart.”
The door opened. By now for Siobhan and Gwen it was becoming almost a comedy show, waiting to see the responses. Gwen slanted a glance at Siobhan. Siobhan slanted a glance at Gwen.
“One shiny mark says someone in this group says ‘There’s furniture’.”
Gwen ‘pished’. “That’s a sucker’s bet.”
A long pause and then Dan came striding out, slowly lowering his crossbows to his side. “There’s furniture.”
Gwen looked at Siobhan and they both bust out laughing. Dan gave them a confused look to which Gwen responded, “Shut the door.”
Dan gave them another look then turned and did as instructed before stepping further into the room and running his gaze over the bookshelves.
“Go on,” Siobhan said, sweeping her hands to indicate the books.
Gwen looked at Siobhan. “Furniture?”
“Furniture.” Siobhan nodded as she trained her gaze on the closet door and waited for it to open. When it did, and after the obligatory wait, Dempsey stepped out with Abe following close like his shadow. Dempsey swept his gaze over the room, the furniture, the bookshelves, the members of the group in their various postures of relaxation, then shrugged and shut the closet door behind him.
Gwen looked at Siobhan. Siobhan looked at Gwen. Patti pivoted to look at Siobhan and Gwen, Sass held against her chest while she idly rubbed its head with one finger. And then all three women bust out laughing. Dempsey gave them *such a look*, which only made them laugh harder. This drew Abe from behind Dempsey, a look of bemusement on their face as they did the same visual sweep Dempsey had.
“Huh,” they said, then stepped away from Dempsey to move over and give one of the wall hangings a deep perusal, fingering their lower lip and chin idly with their heavily tattooed right hand.
Siobhan clapped her hands. “Anyone who needs a drink get one. Otherwise we’ve got a tower to explore and a friend to find.”
Enter The Woods 