Buried in Sunshine (11 page)

“Ethan…” Emma cries as she reaches out for him.
“Help me.”

A strange grin grows over Ethan’s usually kind
face as he pulls his arms back. In a split second Emma notices the
sledgehammer in his hands. Everything turns slow—painfully long.
She raises her hands to defend herself from the blow. However, it
is far too late for that. She takes the full brunt of the blow to
the chest and is sent flying back down the hallway.

Everything is turned. She is not flying back,
but falling down. Blood sprays out from her chest and fills the air
around her. It falls around her and sprays her face like warm rain.
As Emma falls she begins to turn, she faces the wall at the bottom
of her descent. A chalk picture of the sun is drawn on the spot
that she will eventually, painfully, land.

“Fuck!” Emma shouts as she jumps up. Her head
pounds out in agony. She reaches for a bottle of water on the
nightstand beside her bed and drinks the entire bottle at once.

“It’s the nightmares, isn’t it?” A calm voice
asks.

Emma jumps again, startled, as she is faced with
a familiar sight. Sitting at the far edge of her bed is Elizabeth.
She has her arms wrapped around her legs as though she is mimicking
the girl in the painting that hands near the bed.

“Yes,” Emma says as she takes in a heavy breath
and attempts to calm her anxiety. “I always die…”

“I’m sorry they bring you so much pain,”
Elizabeth says as she gets up from the bed and embraces Emma. “I’ve
never had a nightmare—I don’t know what happens to me. I suppose
knowing would be worse. So in that way, I don’t envy you.”

“You would think that I would be used to them by
now,” Emma says as she calms her breathing. “I guess you never get
over dying in your dreams.”

“There are only six nights left…” Elizabeth
whispers, “If that is of any consolation to you.”

“It…It really isn’t,” Emma says as she shakes
her head and wipes away the sweat from her forehead. “How are you
feeling—was the storm last night painful?”

“You are such a strange girl,” Elizabeth says as
she begins to head towards the door then pauses to look at the new
paiting. “Does that picture make you happy?”

“I like it, so yes,” Emma replies.

“Out of all the colorful things,” Elizabeth says
as she shakes her head. “You bring back the most depressing
one.”

“You see depressing?” Emma asks.

“What do you see?”

“Something hopeful,” Emma says as she turns and
looks to the girl in the picture. Of course she is expressing
sadness; however, there is a sense that hope exists as well.

“I’ll start on breakfast while you have a shower
and get dressed,” Elizabeth says as she looks to Emma and stares at
her blankly.

“Why do you do things for me?” Emma asks. She
does not understand this relationship. Elizabeth was sent here to
warn her—to show Emma her true self, to ultimately tell Emma that
she was responsible for the end of the world, and apparently, to
take care of her and feed her. “I don’t understand why you help
me?”

“I just feel it is my purpose,” Elizabeth says
as she begins to leave once more.

“Wait…”

“Yes?”

“Please tell me what you know—you claim to not
know anything, but you know where I should be to meet certain
people. You tell me about thing I need to find,” Emma pleads to the
figure that continues to face away from her. “Please just tell me
what the point of it all is?”

“I don’t know that there is a point,” Elizabeth
whispers sadly. She turns to face Emma as a tear begins to fall
from her eye.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Do you know how it feels to not understand why
you exist? To know that you were sent to deliver bad news to
someone who is kind to you when they should not be? To not know how
to stop…” Elizabeth begins as she pauses to allow herself to
continue the conversation in a more composed manner. “I only know
things—when it wants me to. Take from that what you will. As,
honestly, it is all I have to offer. I have questions—do I cease to
exist when the sun is not present? Will I also burn away on that
seventh day? I don’t know where I go when I’m not here, but I know
that I am afraid of it.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been selfish,” Emma says as she
attempts to hold back tears. “This is entirely my fault. I have
time still—perhaps, maybe I can stop it. There has to be a
way.”

“If there is one thing I know with certainty,
and I wish I didn’t…” Elizabeth says as she begins to walk away
once more. “You can’t stop it, you can only face it.”

*

Emma turns the water off in the shower as she
steps out and wraps a towel around herself. She eyes the curtain
rod, a silver colored length of metal. It is probably not actually
metal; her mother would not replace it with something that Emma
could harm herself with again. A shiver runs down her spine as the
memory of choking flashes in her mind. Emma walks from the bathroom
and follows the stairs up to her the attic.

Through the window the morning sun looks
brighter than normal. Emma wonders if this is just the beginning—or
is it just coincidence that it is getting hotter, and will be
getting even warmer, as the week progresses? Emma roots through the
closet as she removes the damp towel from her naked body. Her mind
set on what to wear, she nonchalantly tosses the towel over the old
sofa beneath the window.

“Do you mind?” A female voice asks.

Emma grasps the door handle of the closet as she
curiously peeks from behind its small sanctuary. There, against the
old fuscous, sun bleached couch—sits a young woman in a white
dress. “Elizabeth, you nearly scared the shit out of me.”

“Not Elizabeth,” The clone says as she folds her
legs and rests her fist against the edge of her chin.

Realizing she is naked, and feeling vulnerable
once again, Emma ignores this new visitor as she picks out clothing
and quickly dresses.

“It’s not like its nothing I haven’t already
seen,” the voice replies with a short laugh.

“I just…” Emma says as she inches the door shut
and gazes upon the new version of her. “I’m not comfortable with
being naked in front of anyone in general.”

“Instead of the sun, right…?”

“That was the old me,” Emma says as she shakes
her head. “I’m not into that anymore.”

“I am.”

“Who are you?” Emma asks as she curiously looks
at this new girls face. There is something different about her that
Emma cannot quite place. After a moment she realizes, it is the
eyes—this new girl has her old cloudy blue eyes.

“Alexis,” the girls speaks softly as she
stretches her arms out wide and lies against the couch allowing the
sunlight to cover her barely clothed form.

Emma stumbles back at the mention of the name.
Although, she begins to realize that her old self did not merely
just disappear. As odd as this turn of events was, she should have
expected it. At this point, she should expect just about anything
odd that could happen.

“You’re not happy to see me?” Alexis says as she
lays her head against the cushioned armrest. “I’m happy to see
you.”

“It’s not that at all,” Emma objects. “I just
didn’t expect to see you.”

“I won’t be staying,” Alexis says as she looks
to the window. “I have a few things to take care of. I’ll probably
see you sooner or later…I’m sure of it.”

“Is there any way I can avoid this…end?”

“Do you believe in fate, or free will?”

“I’m not sure,” Emma says as she thinks about it
for a moment. She then concludes, she has never really thought
about it. “I would hope life is like a little of both?”

“That’s such a wonderfully bullshit Forrest Gump
answer,” Alexis says as she closes her eyes and lets out a heavy
sigh.

“If I say free will,” Emma says as she attempts
to gain more of an answer. “Can I escape it?”

“No.”

“Then if it is fate?”

“Nope,” Alexis says as she shakes her head.

“Then why do you ask?” Emma asks, frustrated, as
she furrows her eyebrows and balls her fists. “What is the
point?”

“Take it easy,” Alexis says as she places her
hands defensively out in front of her in a mocking manner. “We’re
all… family here. You keep getting stuck on this whole idea that
there is a point to this.”

“There has to be though right?”

“You’re guess is as good as mine,” Alexis says
as she raises her hands up to the window and warms her palms
against the hot glass. “…Maybe even better.”

Realizing that Emma will not gain any insight
from this new Alexis, she thinks of someone other than herself and
asks something else. “Where do you go? When you’re not here?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Elizabeth says it hurts—she wants to know.”

“Elizabeth is weak,” Alexis says quietly. “Did
you know she can’t even leave the house?”

“She’s not weak,” Emma says as she feels herself
growing annoyed with Alexis. Was she really just like this a few
days ago?

“I guess that’s subjective to your definition of
weakness,” Alexis says as she raps her fingers against the glass.
“Anyway…I’m out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“My part,” Alexis says shortly.

“Do you have any…?” Emma begins. She does not
want to ask for any further for help from Alexis because she finds
her rude and flippant. However, as Elizabeth had stated, these
other versions of her are messengers. “…Instructions for me?”

“I do,” Alexis says as she feigns a yawn. “Then
again, you should probably ask yourself—if you really want to stop
the end from coming, why are you playing the game?”

“I just want answers…” Emma whispers, she has
not given this idea any thought at all. “Can I…just stop all of
this by no longer searching for answers?”

“Not really,” Alexis says as she shakes her head
and purses her lips into a thin smile. “I was just curious.”

“Do you have anything for me or not?”

“You do have a little bite to you,” Alexis says
as she gets up to her feet and approaches Emma.

Emma stands her ground. She has had enough of
being toyed with. To Emma’s surprise, Alexis places her arms around
her and holds her body tightly against Emma’s.

“There’s a lockbox in your mother’s room. Look
for the cat’s eyes. No rush though, I know you have a busy day.”
Alexis whispers.

“Cat’s eyes…?” Emma asks, but before her
question can be answered Alexis disappears. She does not burn away
like the others. Instead, she simply vanishes into the morning
air.

*

“Your eggs are getting cold,” Elizabeth says as
Emma enters the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says as she sits down upon the
table. She spots the jewelry box that she brought in the night
before and reaches over for it. She pulls out the brilliant yellow
sun-shaped glass necklace.

“What’s that?” Elizabeth says as she eyes the
glass that shines brightly in the sun that refracts from the
kitchen window. “I thought you only bought the depressing
painting…”

“It’s a gift,” Emma says as she holds out the
necklace.

“For who…?”

“For you,” Emma says as she gets up from the
table and pushes the necklace into Elizabeth’s hands. “It’s got a
magnetic clasp; just pull the ends apart there.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You make me breakfast…and last night you made
me a wonderful lasagna,” Emma says as she smiles and sits back down
at the table and begins to dig into her breakfast. “It just seemed
like the right thing to do would be to get you something in
return.”

“Thank…” Elizabeth mutters as she places the
clasps around her neck. The brilliant glass sun falls just above
her chest. “…Thank you… I really didn’t. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“I thought I understood you,” Elizabeth says
softly as her eyes refuse to leave the gift shining against her
chest. “I was wrong.”

“There’s another one of us,” Emma says as she
changes the subject. “That’s why I am late—I figured you would have
known.”

“Where is she?” Elizabeth says as she looks
curiously to Emma. “Who is she?”

“Alexis,” Emma mutters as though the name annoys
her in some manner. “She’s just like I used to be—and she just took
off. She just disappeared. I didn’t know that you guys could do
that.”

“I can’t,” Elizabeth says as she sits down at
the table. “Did she have anything to add?”

“Something about my mother’s room and cat’s
eyes, she wasn’t very clear—at least not like you are,” Emma says
as she finishes of a piece of toast. “She seemed like she was
toying with me. That is all the info she would give me—I asked her
about what happens to her when the sun isn’t here but she just
ignored me. She wasn’t much help at all actually.”

“Why would you ask her that?”

“I thought it would help you,” Emma says as she
picks up her empty plate and places it into the sink. “At least
give you an answer.”

“Why do you want to help me—don’t you get that
you should hate me?”

“I don’t,” Emma says as she places a hand upon
Elizabeth’s shoulder. “It’s just not in me to hate anyone. If
anything I blame myself. If you all say that I’ve brought this upon
all of human existence then, really, everyone should hate me.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Ignorance does not always equal innocence,”
Emma says as bites her bottom lip. The saying reminds her of
something she would say years ago—it was amazing, the change that
Emma had gone through in such a short amount of time. Amazing, but,
ultimately pointless—if only she had realized, become a different
person earlier, then perhaps none of this would be happening now.
Then again, Emma also knew well the familiar saying about
hindsight. “So do you not have any connection with any of the
others?”

“I think I do. It’s more of an after the fact
kind of connection,” Elizabeth says as she folds her hands against
the table in a ball as though she is attempting to concentrate. “I
know parts—maybe like a puzzle? I know some of the things that you
know, but others things are blocked off at times.”