Whiteout (Book 4): The City of Light, page 13
part #4 of Whiteout Series
“You’re not my mother,” I growled.
“Yes, I am, Grady! I brought you into this world myself.” Her smile faltered, and she averted her eyes to the road. “The truth is, baby, I just couldn’t handle raising you. I got scared and I ran right on down to sunny Florida. I’ve been there a long time. But now, hon, I wanna come home. Just give me another chance. Let me make it up to you.”
The words brought a sickening pain to my gut—because of how much I wished they were true.
I stepped forward.
The apparition raised its arms and covered its face. The exposed skin reddened.
“Stop it! Stop it right this instant, young man!” It kept its feminine voice until the last part of the sentence, where it fell into a deeper register. It sounded demonic, like when you played someone talking in reverse.
“Go to hell,” I said.
The thing’s arms dropped, the hands turned into gnarled claws, and the face shimmered as it began changing into someone else.
Now the voice bellowed in that demonic tone. “I’m already there, Grady! Your poor old mommy’s burning up while the Devil laughs and stokes the flames!” The figure’s frame started shrinking. The hair disappeared. The clothes went from a blue sundress to something charred and tattered. The eyes that resembled mine fell from their sockets; one melted, goo rolling down its cheek, while the other dangled on a blackened optic nerve.
No longer was it my mom.
Now it was the dead boy who lived and died on Swan Drive, the boy I had failed.
“Why didn’t you save me, Mr. Fireman? Why did you let me burn?”
“Stop—” The fingers on my left hand twisted the bug spray from OFF to MIST, but when I went to press the button, a strong mixture of fear and awe tripped me up.
The figure transformed again. Now it was Jonas who stood before me. He wore a tank top and shorts, and his tattoos turned red and crispy by the heat of the flame.
“You let me die too, bro. What the hell happened to the Three Musketeers? I know we’ve been sayin’ that shit since we were, like, twelve or something and it’s kinda lame and all, but there was supposed to be an unbreakable bond between us. We were supposed to have each other’s backs! You let me get shot, and then you just left my body to rot in some strange house. Not cool, dude. Not cool at all...”
The transformations continued, now from Jonas to Mikey.
I stood, frozen.
“You’re just gonna get Ell killed like you got all of us killed, Grady,” this version of Mikey said. “And Mia and her baby, and Stone, and Ramsey, and Chewy. And if you go to the City, then you’ll get them all killed too. You’re worthless!”
He wore the light blue sweater he had been murdered in. His entire front, from collar to hem, was soaked with blood. My eyes traveled down to his feet. He was somehow balanced on his twisted ankles. Each foot was askew, the right nearly all the way around and the left facing inward. The knobs of bone poking through were shiny and slightly yellow.
“If you love them like you say you do, then do them a favor and come with me.” The ghostly version of Mikey extended a red-stained hand. “Come on, I’ll save you the trouble. I can give you an all-expenses paid trip to peace. Trust me, it’s not so bad here. It’s like we’re in Schrödinger's box. You remember talking about that?” He smiled. “Inside of this box, we’re completely safe from the problems and worries of the outside world. It’ll stay that way too, because no one can take this lid off. I promise, Grady.”
It seemed he held out his hand for a long time, and in that time, I considered taking him up on his offer. I mean, he was right, wasn’t he? Things didn’t end well for those I came in contact with. Death surrounded me like flies around a corpse. Maybe if I let the monster take me, the others would have a chance. The curse would break, and my friends and loved ones could finally flourish.
The lighter in my hand wavered. My thumb pressing on its button twitched.
No.
I may have grown up without a mother, but my father taught me to always keep fighting. I remember him telling me this after a schoolyard scuffle got me suspended in the seventh grade. I came home so worried he would be mad, I was almost in tears. But my ol’ dad grabbed a bag of frozen broccoli from the freezer and held it against my face, grinning from ear to ear. He asked me why I got into a fight. I told him because some eighth grader thought it would be funny to hit me below the belt. “Sack-tapping,” they called it. I recounted how after the first punch, I got up and clocked him good on the nose. Broke it, apparently. Two of the kid’s friends jumped in. They kicked and hit me until I couldn’t see straight. A teacher eventually intervened, but I was honest with my dad, and I told him how I wasn’t planning on getting back up. Three on one wasn’t a fair fight. Even if it was, they had me in the weight and height department by a good amount.
My dad said, “Sure, you’ll get knocked down, but you don’t stay down. One on one, three on one, a hundred on one, I don’t care. You’re a Miller boy. You get back up, and you try your best to stay up. Yeah, you’ll take more punches, but you might land a few of your own in the process. It ain’t about winning. It’s about staying fearless. Then, only then, will the bullies leave you alone.”
I replayed those words in my head. They sounded crystal clear, as if my father was right beside me.
The monster wearing Mikey’s face smirked, and its eyes glazed over, full of pleasure and arrogance. It thought it had won.
It was wrong.
With newfound strength, I pressed down on the bug spray, and it gushed out in a fine mist.
Then, as soon as it connected with flame, a sheet of fire exploded toward the wraith. I’d taken a hell of a beating, been knocked down more times than I could count, but I was back up now.
And here came my punches.
The thing let out a screech, the terrible noise so loud it shuddered the steel walls and echoed down the tunnel. Unable to coax me into its arms, it tried changing before the flame lit on its skin. What it tried changing into, I’m not sure. I remember the tentacles poking through the flesh of its face. Little pinkish-gray worms. They burrowed out of its cheeks and dangled from its eyes. At the end of each one were tiny mouths full of serrated teeth. I believe they would’ve gotten bigger had I froze again and not pressed on.
Unfortunately for the monster, I did press on. I ran it down with the cloud of fire in front of me. Soon the flames engulfed it entirely.
Through the light, I saw Mikey’s head split open and two stick-thin claws emerge. They gripped either side of the gash and pushed until the head was completely cleaved in half. The creaking noise of separating bone reminded me of stepping on old floorboards.
I almost let off the button and let the flame go out, I was so shocked at what was happening. Was this the wraith’s true form? Was it another disguise? Whatever the case, my mind could barely handle it. Telling it in this story now, I’m sure my descriptions aren’t doing it justice, though no descriptions could.
But I kept advancing, kept the fire going, and soon the flames covered the monster’s entire transforming body.
It screeched as the claws protruding from Mikey’s head blackened, stiffened, and then became ash. Its skin melted and pooled on the road around the twisted ankles.
Then it was gone. Nothing but a pile of ash remained, and I let go of the lighter’s button. The cold took the heat’s place in a fraction of a second, yet my forehead was slick with sweat. I was thankful the tip of my thumb no longer burned, but also scared of the new darkness.
Breathing hard, I almost collapsed on the spot. I would’ve if I’d been alone, but I wasn’t alone. I had Mia to take care of, Mia who was in labor but still on the precipice of death.
I pocketed the lighter and the bug spray, turned, and bolted for the broken snowmobile.
“Is it gone?” Mia moaned. Slowly, she shook her head. Her eyes were open, but the lids were heavy, drooping.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s gone.” I neglected to add for now.
“Where a-are we?”
“We’re right outside the City. Just a few minutes away. Can you hang on?”
She smiled. It almost seemed like she was drugged. I figured her body had gone into shock to prevent the pain. I don’t know how realistic such an assumption was, but it was what I hoped for, at least.
“I’m gonna have to carry you,” I said. “The sled’s done in.”
She barked a shrill laugh. “A twig like you, c-carry a cow like me? No w-way.”
I feigned offense. “I’m neither a twig nor are you a cow, and even if that were the case, I would carry you regardless.”
We couldn’t stay in this tunnel another minute. There was no telling how long it would be until more monsters showed up. They sensed fear and pain from miles away.
I bent into the cab and guided her down the seat toward me. Just as I was doing this, her body jolted and she flashed her teeth. A windy, almost-soundless scream escaped between the spaces. The type of contraction your body couldn’t numb itself for was beginning.
I stumbled backwards, watching the rise and fall of her stomach as the baby inside moved.
I laughed with relief, thinking it meant the baby, Monica, was alive.
“Grady—” Mia gasped. “She—she’s comin’.”
“Now?”
My answer arrived in the form of an ear-splitting scream. Mia threw herself back against the driver’s side door and wrenched the wheel. I dug into my pants pocket for the lighter. I was more scared now than I was when I stood face-to-face with a monster that oozed tentacles and God knew whatever else.
What I saw was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I don’t think I can even write it, so I’ll leave out the messier descriptions here and tell you this: what I saw was the baby’s hair and goop covered head.
“Help me! Help, Grady!”
“I-I-I—uh—”
“Goddamn it! HELLLLLLP MEEEE!”
My heart kicked into overdrive. I shined the flame down on the sled’s floor, looking for something—anything—that might help.
Lo and behold, I saw a flashlight. It must’ve fallen out of the bag Ell packed us. God bless her. I grabbed it, flipped the power switch, and lay it on the dashboard so its beam was trained at Mia’s lower half.
I said the only thing that came to mind: “Push! PUSHHH!”
And push she did.
I’ve heard labor can last hours, and a woman can push for a good majority of these hours, but that wasn’t Mia’s experience. Counting the time before we got stuck in the tunnel, she had been in labor for a while, I guess, but once the pushing started, it couldn’t have gone any smoother—at least under these circumstances.
Monica arrived a handful of minutes later. She slid out on a wave of blood (much less than what Mia had lost earlier) and bodily fluids. I grabbed her with weak fingers and immediately put her against Mia’s chest. She was sobbing, but for a while, the baby wasn’t.
“Is she okay? Is she breathing? Grady, I-I don’t think she’s breathing!”
An anvil fell from my throat into my stomach. My mind was whirling, but I had no idea what to do.
Then a wet, wailing scream filled the snowmobile, and Monica kicked her arms and legs.
“She’s okay. She’s okay!” Mia shouted. “Oh, my God! We did it!” She ran her fingers down the back of Monica’s head. “Shh, honey, shh, it’s okay.”
I pulled my hoodie and the sweater beneath off, then I draped them over the baby. Mia tucked the makeshift blanket tighter around Monica. It wasn’t a swaddle, but it would have to do.
I clamped the umbilical cord with a piece of cloth—not ideal, but enough to last until we got into the city.
After the cord was “clamped,” I cut it with a piece of glass I had run my lighter over to disinfect. Again, not ideal. Now that Monica was out, and from what I could see, healthy, I wasn’t so scared. Even though I didn’t know what I was doing, I felt like I did. Fake it until you make it, I guess. In the spirit of spared details, I’ll not tell you of the arrival of the afterbirth. Just know I would’ve taken worm-like tentacles poking out of a face over seeing that any day.
Smiling with tears falling down my cheeks, I said, “We can’t stay here, Mia. We have to go. We have to get her someplace safe.”
Warmth flickered in Mia’s eyes. She had been riding a wave of happiness brought on by the successful birth, but now reality was here with a needle to burst this bubble. “But I don’t think I can walk—”
“I’ll carry you both. The City isn’t far. I made a promise to myself that I would protect you and her, that I would get you to safety. And I don’t break promises.”
She stuttered, unsure of what to say, so I continued. “There’s no telling when the wraiths—”
“No, you’re right," she said, cutting me off. "Let’s go, but let me at least try to walk.”
I shook my head. “Not a chance.”
She had been through so much in such a short amount of time. My struggles were Little League and hers were the Majors. The few hours of labor, the loss of blood, being cramped in the tiny snowmobile enclosure, giving birth, not knowing if your baby would arrive alive or dead…the list went on and on.
I allowed myself to smile as I stood there taking in Mia and Monica. Mia’s hair was a sweaty mess, her cheeks were red, her lips were even more blue than before, but she looked happy. Happier than I had seen her in a long time.
Monica’s head was barely visible under my hoodie and sweater. I saw just a hint of her clumpy dark hair. She had more hair than some of the guys I'd graduated high school with had in their late twenties.
Five minutes away, I told myself. That’s all. We can make it…
Unless the monsters were out there waiting for us.
“You ready?”
Mia kissed the top of her newborn baby girl’s head. “No, but what other choice do I have? Stay here and die?”
I nodded solemnly.
Exactly. We had no choice.
I carried them. It was not easy. The combined weight sunk me deeper into the snow with each step. It came up past my belly button, packed under my top, and spilled into my pants and shoes. Remember, I had no protection over my torso aside from a t-shirt and a blanket partially thrown over my shoulders that was meant to cover Mia and Monica completely. Thirty seconds out of the bridge and my skin felt like it was on fire; two minutes, and I was sure I was going to have to be amputated from the waist down.
The baby wailed and wailed, but the wind stole most of the sound. I was glad I could hear it, and I kept praying I would continue to hear it.
The lighthouse’s lantern burned bright above us, sweeping along in a circle. In the flurry of snow, I could just make out the towering gates the military had erected over the area. I knew we were still following the road because of the guard boxes set up on either side of the entrance. These were buried nearly to their roofs, useless now, but no mirage.
Seeing them and the light gave me another shot of much-needed adrenaline, and I sped up. I had to dig deep into my energy reserves once the adrenaline wore off. There were many close calls when I almost lost my balance and dropped them, but I stayed standing. The snow helped in that regard; the wind did not.
“You okay?” I shouted.
“Save your breath!” Mia answered. The icy air lifted her hair, and it slapped against my cheek. I smelled sweat and coconut.
“Almost there!”
Almost there—almost there—almost there—
Then—
We were there, right below the gate. I rotated, somehow still able to move on my numb legs, and threw my back into the fence. The chain link rattled. Large swathes of ice cracked and fell, landing without noise in the surrounding snow.
“HEY! HEY! HELP US!” I shouted.
Beyond the ice were plastic coverings, hiding the metal. I smashed my face against it and tried peering through the cracks. I saw nothing because of how hard the snow was falling.
“HEY! PLEASE! PLEA—” My voice cracked, lost strength. “Please…”
It was then that the light burning in the lighthouse above went dark.
I remember thinking, No. This can’t be happening. We didn’t come all this way, go through hell and back, just to be turned away at the door.
I couldn’t stay up much longer. The numbness of my body broke, and the icy pain ripped through my flesh. It was like being swallowed by flame. Now I knew how the monsters felt.
I was either sinking deeper, or my knees were finally giving in.
“Pleaseeeeee…”
Mia’s sobs went unheard, but a thrumming vibrated through my chest.
I thought to myself: I won’t let us freeze. I’ll put us out of our misery before I let that happen…
But with what?
Light us on fire? Go back to the site of the snowmobile crash, find a sharp piece of glass, and then slit our throats? I had no more energy left. If I were going to do anything without outside help, it would happen in this very spot beneath the tower.
I didn’t believe we were meant to die, not yet. I found another inkling of strength and diverted it toward my voice.
“PLEEEE—” I bellowed, but the newfound energy drained away and the scream tapered off into a hoarse whisper. “—eeeeeeeasssseeee…” I felt no vibrations in my chest, which meant no crying from either Mia or the baby. Felt no movement. I told myself I wouldn’t drop them, even if they were dead. I would hold onto them and freeze before I did that.
The snow won.
It finally won.
This is it, I thought. It really ends here and now. Like this. What a way to go—
And the strength in my knees gave way. I sank into the white abyss. Each inch brought on a new wave of indescribable pain.
In vain, I tried to lift Mia and her baby above my head, as if we were in a room slowly filling with water and doing so would allow them to have one last breath of sweet oxygen before their lungs were flooded.
Screaming, grunting, I raised them up…and up…and up…
