J. Souders: Revelations

The floorboards creak and groan as I walk. I used to try and learn which floorboards to use or how to step to avoid them making noises, but it’s useless. They’re old and they all creak. In fact, I see a loose one poking up near Evie’s doorway. I’ll have to run to the general store for nails to fix that so she doesn’t trip on it. And while I’m at it, I should probably see if I can trade something for some paint. The walls are peeling and Mom’s been making noises since Evie came about wanting to fix up the house.

I’m careful to avoid the loose board as I stop at her doorway. But when I peek my head into the room, she’s back to staring out her window to the black sea. One hand rests on Lucy’s head, which rests in Evie’s lap. The other rests on the glass, palm pressing to it, fingers curled slightly, as if she’s reaching for something. In the reflection, I can see tears sliding down her cheek. I back away from the door, so she can’t see that I saw her, swallow the lump in my throat, and continue on into the bathroom. With a flick of the wrist, I turn on the water. At first it only drizzles out and I glare at the pipe.

“Work, damn you,” I mutter. I don’t want to have to fumble around in the pump house in the dark. Then it pulses and shoots a stream from the rusty faucet, pouring blackish water into the tub. God, I hate well water. After another half a minute, the water turns clear and steam starts rising from the bottom of the tub. I quickly adjust the temperature and step into the spray.

While I’m scrubbing my skin, I contemplate how to help Evie. I hate seeing her so sad, missing a home she doesn’t remember, but going back isn’t an option. So the question is, what can I do? I stay in the shower a while longer than I normally would, staring at a crack in the tile, but still no answers come.

Even after I’m finished with my shower and dressed in clean clothes and staring at the ceiling in my room, I don’t know. She needs her memories back; that’s obvious. But how do we get them back, when we don’t know what caused her to lose them in the first place?

Lucy’s growl and a movement out of the corner of my eye makes my blood run cold and I jump up, grabbing the bat that is lying next to the bed. My mind flashes back to being in Sector Three, and for a second, silly as I know it is, I’m sure one of those things followed us back. Something is creeping around my house—and all I’ve got to defend myself is a baseball bat.

I grip the bat tightly and tiptoe to the doorway. But what’s standing there makes me stop in my tracks. Not again.

It’s Evie, and she’s staring at me with the blankest expression on her face. Her eyes are completely empty. Dead, almost. I’ve seen those eyes before. In Elysium. On the Enforcers. And, unfortunately, on her.

“Evie? Are you all right?”

She tips her head to the side and I fight back another shudder. “ My life is just about perfect .” Then she slowly turns and walks down the hallway, her white nightgown fluttering behind her.

I’m so in shock, it takes me a minute to realize she’s already at the end of the hall and around the corner.

Shit! She must be sleepwalking. I chase after her, but she’s already back down to the beach when I catch up to her. She’s only walking. How is she moving so fast?

“Evie!” I reach for her hand, pulling it toward me and hoping it’ll make her stop. It does. But when she turns, I can only stare at her, while she seems to stare through me. She shakes me off and walks forward again. If she keeps going the way she is, she’ll end up in the ocean.

I rush forward and make another grab for her hand. She tries shaking me off again, but I ignore it and say, “Where are you going?”

She turns to face me. Blinks once, and says, “Home.”

A chill slides over me. “Home?” I ask dumbly.

“Home.” She twists back around and yanks away from me, splashing her way into the water.

I lunge forward and pull her back. She spins around and this time, when she looks at me, my instincts yell at me to let her go. I don’t.

A wave crashes over us, pulling us apart and knocking me to my knees. Freezing salty water collapses over my head, burning my eyes and nose. I shove up, coughing, and push my hair out of my eyes. She’s out of reach already. I don’t even think the wave bothered her.

Her nightgown is soaked and her skin glows through it in the moonlight. In normal circumstances, I’d appreciate the view, but I barely give it a passing thought as I wade deeper, trying to reach her before she gets to the drop-off.

“Evie! Stop. Please,” I try again, knowing it’s useless. Even though the air around me is hot, I’m shaking.

When I’m close enough, I grab for her arm, but we’re both slippery from the water and she pulls easily from my hand. The moonlight pours over her and while her eyes are red, they’re as empty as they ever were.

I’ve heard that if you slap someone in shock, it wakes them up from whatever it is that they’re doing. I dismiss the thought as soon as I’ve had it. I can’t hit Evie. But another wave crashes on top of her, knocking her over, and when she just stands up and keeps going, I realize I don’t have a choice. I don’t want to hurt her, but I want her alive. So I grasp her again with one hand and bring the other one up to slap her just hard enough that I hope it’ll wake her up … but before I can even make contact, she’s got my wrist and she’s squeezing it, pushing my arm back.

She twists around so she’s staring me down. Her eyes are inky bottomless wells. Empty and dangerous. Before I can react, her other arm swings around and I catch a glimpse of her fist as it connects to my jaw. The impact shoves me back and then water is surrounding me and my head spins so much with my ringing ears that I can’t figure out which way is up. I panic at first, flopping around, trying to get to the surface so I can breathe. But instinct forces through my panic and reminds me to relax and let my body float. My feet touch bottom and I shove to a standing position. Above the surface, I gasp for breath, shoving my hair from my eyes and searching for Evie, but she’s gone. I can’t see her.

I turn around in a circle as quickly as I can, but the water slows me down. It doesn’t matter, though. I can’t see her.

“Evie!” I shout, my voice hoarse from seawater and coughing. I push forward toward the drop-off. “Evie!… Evie! ” Nothing. No answer, except the waves as they push toward shore.

My eyes are blurry from the salt water and the panic tears burning them. “Evie. Please! Answer me.”

Then, by some miracle, the moonlight reflects off of something white and I know it’s her. “Evie!” I shout again, pushing toward her, forgetting about the drop-off in my hurry to get to her.

I go under mid-yell, swallowing seawater, but push up and spit out what I can. I just keep saying her name as I swim closer, because I can’t seem to say anything else. She’s not moving and her hair is all over. I can’t even tell which way she’s facing.

My heart stops when I get to her and see she’s facedown. I roll her over and drag her out as fast I can, using the waves to my advantage, but when I get her onto the beach and kneel over her, she’s not breathing.

“Oh God. Oh God,” I whisper, shoving her hair from her face. I breathe into her mouth, but her chest doesn’t even rise. There must be water in her lungs. I have to get it out.

“Come on, Evie.” I push on her chest, shoving on it harder and harder, screaming her name. “Evie. Please. Come on. Please.” I kneel closer to her mouth and push more air into her lungs, hoping to displace some of the water. Nothing happens. I shakily feel for a pulse, moaning when I don’t feel one.