Ghost of Doors (City of Doors) (9 page)

His face felt wet, his mouth and chin warm and sticky. He weakly brushed a hand against the wetness and looked down to see that hand with darkness smeared across it: His nose had begun to bleed. Blacking out for the moment, Wolfgang came to and caught himself just as his legs began to give way. He could hear Marie and the buzzing voices but it all blended together into a cacophony that only served to ruin his concentration which he so desperately needed to keep. His heart raced and he felt out of control, his body no longer listening to him, and a crushing panic portended his death, or that who he was was dying. If this kept up, this panic, he thought, he might die. His heart might fail, or he might pass out and then die. He needed to force his body to calm down. Even though it wasn't listening to him anymore, he had to try to make it listen. "This is not real," he told himself. "You're not dying. You can do this. You'll be fine."

And then it was over. The sick feeling faded as quickly as it came. Had he won? Was the evil little man gone? He wasn't sure, but at least the pain was gone and he had the feeling that he could continue with his journey, at least until it became too dark to see.

Marie stared at him, her eyes full of the concern she seemed to have only for him. "You okay?" she asked. Pilgrim's long head hung behind her, her worry mirrored in his eyes.

He took a deep breath. The mist around him lay like still water, as calm as he felt. As the seconds passed and he studied the forest around him, he wondered if it had happened at all, or if he had dreamed it. Even his leg felt better, as if its wound had healed. He looked down at his pant leg. It wasn't even torn.

"Is this all a dream?" he thought to himself, unsure. "Maybe I'm really still in bed. Maybe I never even got up this morning." It was a good theory. This No Man's Land was like a part of his own mind, able to be bent to his will. He doubted the real No Man's Land would be anything like this. So then the question became, if he in fact really was still sleeping, how to wake up?

Then a thought came to him, one that had been unspoken but in the back of his mind, lurking, since he'd left Doors:
Your father was hoping you would die here. That's why he let you go.

Wolfgang was startled by the ugliness of it. He didn't believe it, either. Not really.
That doesn't make sense,
he told himself.
Why would he want me dead?

He knows something you don't.

That made Wolfgang smirk.
He knows a great many things I don't,
he thought.
That doesn't make him want me dead.
But after thinking more about it, he drew the conclusion that he might know something about Wolfgang's future--or his past--that Wolfgang could not know. After all, he'd been alive longer than Wolfgang. He had been leading a whole other life before his son was born, a life that Wolfgang would never know the whole truth about.

More lights began to form in the forest. He wondered if it was a good idea to encourage Vogelfang to glow. Light might draw things to them. As if reading his thoughts, Marie whispered, "What do we do when it gets dark? If this place is like Doors, we have only about an hour of light left."

Wolfgang didn't know. He had planned on having made it to the other world by now. Doors wasn't that large--it could be crossed in a couple of hours easily by car--and he had assumed that the No Man's Land wouldn't be much larger. He hadn't planned on them being in a sort of Limbo with no real way to control where you went or stayed or for how long, and he began to feel badly that he was asking so much of his friends. "We'll go on until we can't anymore. If we have to stay the night, I guess that's what we'll do. How will you get back?"

"If we actually make it to the Hindernis and you find a door to the human world, we'll go through it with you, of course, then take a door back."

"And if I don't make it?"

Marie's pause made him think that she was weighing out a number of replies before choosing one. "Then it won't matter to you what we do," she said. They walked on for awhile in silence.

She's getting you lost,
came an unwelcome thought.

Why would she do that?
he asked himself silently.

Maybe she is tired of your weakness. Maybe you betrayed her by wanting to leave. But if you die here, you can never leave.
Wolfgang felt the blood drain from his face. Was that true? Would his soul become trapped here, unable to be free? He watched Marie's back as if hoping it would provide a sign of her intentions.

Wait a minute,
he thought.
She didn't even want to come here in the first place. She didn't want me to go, either.

Right. She didn't want you to go. Leaving her, betraying her. But now you have. You're going. But not any farther.

Marie spun around and clamped her hands upon his throat, stifling his breath. How very dreamlike for her to attack him on cue. He struggled helplessly against her grip, dropping Vogelfang and struggling to break her grip. It was no use. She would not let go, and only held him tighter, so tight that he felt the flow of blood build up in his neck and almost stop, his consciousness fleeting. In desperation, he grasped awkwardly for the knife his father had given him but could not find it.
What are you doing?
he asked himself.
Could you really do it? Stab Marie?
Then he decided no, if Marie wanted to kill him, he would let her. It would be better than living his life in Doors, or endlessly searching for a door home that he would never find. Then blackness.

He awoke to the horrible forest whispering ringing in his ears. Standing up was almost as difficult as fighting Marie. Bent over, almost collapsing again, he felt bile rising in his throat. He retched horribly, deep and long, and felt certain that everything inside of his body would come up if he didn't try to hold it back. A long, snake-like black something wriggled from his mouth into the agitated mist. The black thing took shape to become the little hunched man once more. "You!" the man screamed, pointing a bent and knobby tree branch of a finger at Marie.

"I'm sorry, Wolfgang," Marie told him, "but I had to do it. And I had to do it when you weren't expecting it. To get rid of him."

"I got this, Chief," Pilgrim nickered from behind the little man. Great hooves pummeled into the hunched figure until it tumbled, shrieking and wailing, never to rise from the spot where it fell.

Wolfgang didn't care, he was just glad it was out of him. He didn’t even believe it was real, just a figment of his imagination that this place had magically brought to life, an illusion. He needed a moment to rest so he knelt down in the deep mist even though he had no idea what it hid. Marie knelt beside him. "How did you know that would work?" he asked.

She looked him right in the eye. "Rats always leave a sinking ship."

He was sorry he'd asked.

Wincing, she shook her head in anger. "GAH. I wish they would shut up."

Wolfgang leaned forward. "What are they saying, Marie?"

"They're talking to each other. About us."

"But I thought they were us?"

"They are. Our voices. But they're arguing about which of us will die first. And how. They were disappointed that I didn't do it already. They're asking me what I'm waiting for."

"I can barely hear them. Can you block them out? Maybe if you put something in your ears..."

She shrugged. "I don't have anything."

After checking his pockets, he found a pair of earbuds. "Try these," he offered. She took them and slid them easily into each ear, her hands as fluid as water. The slight rolling of her eyes made him think that she was searching for the sound. "Better?"

She smiled. "Yeah," she said. "I think so. Thanks." Marie looked a little happier, at least to him, and he again regretted bringing her into this. If anything happened to her because of him, he would never forgive himself. Even as exhausted as she was, she was still beautiful, her glamour strong and thriving in spite of her psychological state. It blossomed around her, drawing deep from the magic of this place if not from the horror, making her angelic. If he ever got out of this alive, he vowed, he would come back for her. Just to see her again, to be near her, to talk to her. Out of everyone he knew, except perhaps for Pilgrim, she had been his most loyal friend. He liked to think that, no matter what happened in this No Man's Land, that she would never forget him, too.

Chapter 6

A
S THEY MOVED FORWARD, SOMETHING
up ahead shimmered in the last light of the sun as it slipped below the tree line in the distance. "Did you see that?" he whispered, and waited for Marie to catch up to him and Pilgrim, which she did.

"See what?" she asked. She was beginning to look tired, and Wolfgang thought that the place was finally taking its toll.

"A light over there." He pointed and began to walk toward the flash he had seen.

"Be careful." Pilgrim warned. "This place is probably full of foxfires and...ghosts." A building loomed ahead of them totally out of place with the surrounding wood. It was a small building that looked like it could have been an apartment building, about three stories tall with a gabled roof and small windows. It gave the impression in the woods of being a tower, a keep, from a long forgotten war and Marie stood, transfixed, in awe at the building. The flash might have come from one of the windows. A light was on inside.

"What's wrong?" Wolfgang asked.

"I know this place," she said in a voice just above a whisper. "My old house. My mother's house." Her voice was lost in wonder at the building that had transcended time and place to be here. The light from the windows cascaded onto the fog at their feet in streaks and shadows, taut ribbons of light and mist as curtains hanging on the outside of the building, tattered from the elements. Her eyes, dark gray on lighter gray with pupils black and wide, caught and held his gaze because he could not look away from the terror haunting them. Wolfgang had never seen this style of house in Doors. It took him a moment before he realized that by "mother" she didn't mean the changeling who gave birth to her.

"Your human mother?" he asked, in the same hushed tone she had used.

"Yes," she whispered. "What is it doing here?" He didn't have an answer for that, so he stayed silent. But he got the feeling that something bad had happened in that house, something she did not want to relive here, in this broken wood, like a play for some perverted watcher. "Let's go inside," she said finally.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I have to know..."

Pilgrim waited outside.

A weak light shone in the foyer, attractive with the promise of human contact, drawing her to something familiar much like a horse going back to a burning barn. They entered cautiously, the front door creaking a question, surprised to be bothered after all this time. The room had been shut up indefinitely, and the smells had countless opportunities to mix and become even more stale and revolting with each passing moment. Subdued only slightly by the cold and damp, the stench of this hand-fashioned cave told them everything here had been forgotten even before they got a good look around. Finding the doors to each room shut, Marie and Wolfgang took a moment to glance at the old photographs and picture frames grown over with a crust of mold, keeping the secret of the faces within. The wallpaper peeled and sagged petal-like from the walls, its original color and pattern indiscernible beneath the rust and water stains. It was a sadness Wolfgang could smell, see, and feel. After reaching for a door, Marie opened it and disappeared into the soft darkness which sunk like velvet into the room away from the light. Wolfgang paused before following.

That was his mistake.

Marie was gone, the darkness swallowing her up as if that were its sole purpose and, even though Wolfgang followed after where he'd thought she had gone, she was not there. His calls to her went unanswered. He reached the end of the room by walking face-first into the door which stood there, stalwart and duty-bound. Turning the doorknob led him outside once again. He returned through the door and this time felt around for a light switch on the wall. He found one, pressed it until it gave way, and a light as anemic as its sibling in the foyer indifferently showed him the kitchen. Nothing showed any sign that the house was being used. The kitchen, while in the same moldered state as the foyer, was in order, utensils hung and furniture neatly placed where it belonged, chairs against table, table against wall. There was another door which Wolfgang assumed led to the basement. If Marie had entered this room, and she wasn't here, and she hadn't gone outside as Wolfgang had, then that was where she had to be. He got a terrible sense of foreboding as he approached the door while, at the same time, he felt as if he had to hurry, as if something horrible was happening or about to happen and he had to stop it. He tore open the door and raced down the steps, the smell of stale air, wet and musty and sour, made him clamp his mouth shut and breathe weakly through his nose.

He could hear the footsteps of someone below him in the darkness, in front of the stairs.