A long dark tunnel with angular twists and turns stretched before the girls, reminding Poe of the mirror maze down at the Jersey shore. The memories it recalled rang bittersweet in her mind as the scene unfurled before her and Lyra. She swore she was dead when they fell from the walk “not that way” obstacle course above her, before landing on the slick rock slide which propelled both of them down into the depths where only luminescent moss from the walls led the way.
“This way,” Lyra had said, even though Poe knew she had never been there before.
They followed the curving crevice which served as a path from the base of the slide to the wide tunnel. Poe’s vision held, even in the diminished light. She never explained to Muddy or the others what she did see or how she saw it, mostly because she didn’t care. Sight was sight and clear outlines were a heck of a lot better than clouds and colorless blobs, which were all she could see since the accident with her father a decade ago. Too much of her school life pained her, hearing the jibes and mocks from the girls and the lewd comments from the guys who thought she was just as dumb as she was blind. She often cursed her parents for passing along their intelligence to her, even if it had skipped her father completely. Her granddad could’ve run NASA if he’d wanted. But he didn’t. He did something much worse and consequently, she wound up this way.
“Wow,” her new friend exclaimed with a whistle. “What in the world?”
Part of Poe relaxed when she took in the ordeal before her. The other part recoiled in pure fright, scaring her almost as much as those nights when her dad went off the rails. I don’t know, but it reminds me of a song my grandfather used to play all the time in his band.”
Lyra shook her head. “You mean a song about swinging or revolving doors?”
“Something like that,” Poe said. “I think the trick here is the colors.”
“So the clue is a red door? Girl, you’re confusing me. I really wish we had music here.”
“We do now. There are black doors, too. Just look closely.”
Lyra squinted into the tunnel and the full-sized, solid, hissing slabs. “I don’t see it.”
“It’s okay, I’m used to looking into the blackness and making sense of it. Sometimes, that’s all I see.”
“Wait. Look past the gauntlet. Tell me what you see.”
Poe strained her eyes, somewhat hurting from using them for the first time in several years. Past the countless doors, she saw what Lyra saw, an opening about a hundred or so feet away. She could clearly see the end to this trial and hopefully, one better than her previous outcome.
“Let’s roll,” said Lyra. “I think I’ve got this. Follow me.” Before Poe could utter a word, the girl took off like a cat. Even though she was nimble, cautious even, Poe knew she was about to die.
“Stop!” She cried and reached out at the same time, but was a hair too late. Her agony sung out in the tunnel in a tone just out of tune. Pain usually pushed such noises sharp.
Lyra had run smack dab, headfirst, into a door that hadn’t been there just a moment ago.
As Poe stepped across the threshold of the first doorway, where the door wasn’t, a whirring sound filled her ears and dread ran through her veins. “No,” she screamed, harmonizing somewhat with Lyra’s own. The red doors started to revolve, or opening and shutting, right as Poe began her sprint. Just like the mirror maze down the shore, she thought. She raced forward and pulled the falling form down with her to the ground, pulling away from the living doors.
The girl lay dazed and covered with a red coat of her own; not painted black by a long shot. “Why did they open?” Her voice hung in the stale air, but just barely.
Poe scanned the body, noting small cuts on Lyra’s face, arms and neck, each oozing blood, but nothing appeared life threatening. Then again, she was no doctor and there were so many slits in the flesh. She listened to the girl’s ragged breath and attempted to decipher if the reason was pure fear coursing through her lungs or internal injuries. She prayed the former, but had no idea if she was right, given the way the door swung open then slammed into her with such force. “You must have tripped something.”
The girl regarded her with an amused look. “Really?”
Poe smiled, despite her wishing to hold back. “Sorry. The obvious. Still, you asked and I don’t know any more than you do. Except—”
“Except what?” Lyra spat out something, flecked with blood.
“The song. I don’t know how or why, but red is never good. Usually, the only thing running toward it is a bull.”
“Thanks again,” said Lyra. “You’re making me feel pretty good here.” She coughed again, dotting her white tunic.
“That’s not what I meant.” Poe thought of a red light analogy, but there were no cars here. Not much would work, though she had an idea. Judging by the blood in the girl’s spittle, the idea had to work fast. Otherwise, she might as well be another bass player.
“Can you stand?”
“I’ll try. Somehow, I don’t think I want to die here looking at all these doors swinging like they’re waiting for a cat’s tail to catch.”
“Wait, you have cats here?”
Again, the amused smile. “Of course, we’re allowed some pleasant things by the Tritons.”
“Funny,” Poe replied. “I just figured that if you did, they’d have three heads meowing in harmony or teeth that chimed like a xylophone, or worse.”
“Who says they don’t?”
Poe helped the girl to her feet and prayed she never found out. “Now watch what happens. Look at the space to the left of the red door.”
They focused on the spot next to what almost killed Lyra. Something shimmered slightly, like when the band used to sit on the front porch in the summer. The sun baked the street so much that the air above it appeared to waver like a video out of focus.
“There’s something there.”
Poe thought aloud. “Another door. A black one.”
“Isn’t black supposed to be bad luck, too?” Lyra leaned on Poe as they stood before it.
“It all depends on your perspective. I love my clothes and most of them are black, so whatever.”
They looked again past the first set of doors. Another red one stood. Was there another shimmering black one?
It came to her what to do. There was a way out, if it didn’t destroy them in the process. She couldn’t bear to think how Muddy would deal with her death.
Back to the Jersey Shore. Teens, kids and parents paid a buck to maneuver through the maze for fun. She remembered sailing through it each time while every one of her friends slammed into the Plexiglas walls that faced the wild teens and children in every direction. She had felt her way, utilizing her lack of sight and her enhanced sense of perception to keep her from a broken nose, toes or bruised self-esteem. While her friends took forever to navigate the false turns and dead ends, she simply breathed deep and felt her way, knowing that it was set up in a logical puzzle. It had to be. The designers couldn’t make the maze too difficult. No one would ever emerge back into the New Jersey sun. All the while, DJs often played that Stones song since the doorways had wild colors and the way out was often bathed in black.
“Let’s do this. We need to find Muddy’s brother and get out of here.”
She helped Lyra to her feet. “Can you make it?”
Once again, she received an odd look. Usually Poe had caught every bit of sarcasm and tossed it back in spades, but the sight she now wielded dulled her wit. Just a bit.
“Are you kidding,” the teen replied. “Why would you ask something dumb like that? If I don’t move, I’ll die. I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but dying kind of sucks here.”
Poe felt the blush hit her face before she could stop it. Did Lyra mean the words in a harsh way, like they sounded, or was Lyra messing with her?
“Sorry,” she managed. “I’m used to watching bad horror movies. The terrible dialogue sticks with you sometimes.”
“Maybe if we survive this, you can take me to one of these movie things I keep hearing about,” Lyra said. “I’m tired of visualizing everything without seeing what your people have talked about.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Of course she did. Too well, but the girl wouldn’t know she was blind back home. “Are you able to travel between dimensions?” She stumbled a bit at the first of the blackness. “I mean, can you cross over?”
“If you guys can, there must be a way to bring a visitor.”
But they all had the instruments. And a talent. “Sure. I’d love to have you over.” Just not my house, she thought. The image of her father came storming back to her. He might hate Lyra and take it out on her, or even worse, like her.
As they stepped over the threshold, the circus began. “Oh my,” Poe exclaimed.
Red blazed into their eyes from all directions.
Every red door began to open and shut. Slam, rather, with the force that nearly killed Lyra. Though the path ahead was clear moments ago, the bright color blurred her vision, as if every opening gave birth to an inferno.
But, where were the black doors? Were they still there?
“How are we going to do this?” Lyra’s voice shook. She coughed again.
“I’ve got it,” Poe said, though fear struck her from all sides. She recalled those bad nights at home when everything she did drew a fire of another sort. The kind that forced mom into a corner and ignited the man she hated to call father.
“You sure?”
Not really, but it sounded good. “Now, when I step, step with me. Same time, same speed.”
Lyra rubbed her arm. “I think I know what you mean. If one of those doors hits my head, game over. Head over.”
Poe counted, thinking of the flashing lights in the mirror maze, the timing she needed to sneak out when all hell broke loose at home. Timing was everything. Sometimes it saved your life, or parts of it, like jumping rope with razor wire.
“Go!”
As the red door slammed to their left, they bounded right, into a blackness so dark, all vision burned away. A hot wind hit their backs, but they stood in safety.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Lyra said, taking a deep breath. “If that’s all it takes, I might just live to die by the hands of the Tritons after all.”
Nothing in Poe’s life ever came that easy, except singing. “That wasn’t bad. This will be. Look.”
They peeked out of the corridor where they stood and saw another red door then another black door. And then another red on the opposite side. Two red doors swung with the safety of the black in the middle. One swung clockwise, the other slammed counter. If either hit them, their bodies would turn into pin-balling soup in a heartbeat. “Okay, that’s not so bad, is it?”
“Hope not. It’s probably best not to over think it,” Poe said. “Ready?” Lyra nodded and they stepped together just as the reds swung closed. They made it to the next safe zone. And froze. “Okay, this is bad.”
The path became crystal clear as Poe studied her options. First, they passed one red deadly door. Then two. With each threshold, another joined the gauntlet, turning the scene into a blender they would have to run through. That is, if they held their timing in check.
It’s like jumping through razors, Poe reminded herself. Pretend it’s just a game.
“Can’t we just sit here for a while and plan? Maybe there’s a back door.”
That was it. Why didn’t she see it? Because it would likely kill both of them, Poe thought to herself, though choosing not to speak it. “Ready?”
“No,” Lyra said with labored breath. In the light reflecting off the doors, fresh blood appeared on her brow. “I need a minute.”
“Oh, no,” Poe said, dread raining down on her. A faint creaking sound ahead threw new fear into her. “Watch.”
Ten feet separated them from the next black zone, which signaled safety in its invisibility. A quartet of doors awaited them.
“Are you worried about what we can’t see on the way?”
“No,” Poe said. But then again, she did wonder what lie on either side of the path they would run through. Was there a step, jump, hop or free fall to the left or right? Even on the straight path?
“Just watch,” she said. All four doors creaked open slowly before slamming home into some unseen frame.
“That’s all? We can time that, no problem.”
Yeah, it was a problem, but not the big one. After the doors slammed shut, the creaking began again. In her mind, Poe counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.
All four swung open the opposite way, right into the black where they had planned on running. If they made it to the black, the red would open right away and crush them with no room to spare. Poe hated revolving doors as it was and this tossed the biggest monkey wrench into their situation. At least with normal doors, if you got stuck, you lived to tell about it.
“But,” Lyra said, “that means, there is no chance to get through there. We’re squished!”
Poe inhaled. She didn’t survive her home life this long just to die here at the mindless moving of some doors. “No.” She took a deep breath. “Eight beats. That’s two measures. We have plenty of time. We run, right into the closing doors and slide in between. We find the next opening, finish the count and run before they make us skinnier than one of those cover models that make me sick.”
“What? We’re not going to—”
“Just zip it and follow me. No excuses,” Poe said as resolve bore into her heart. “You want to live, move with me and fast, step for step.”
She pulled the injured girl through the quartet with only the breeze of the crimson door touching them—only to find a quintet. Beyond that, they encountered a sextet, a septet and finally, an octet—eight doors swinging in blender-like fashion.
They were going to die if they tried the octet. There was no way either could fit through before all of the doors swung shut, even one at a time, especially if they weren’t in sync.
But she would try, anyway.
“You know,” Lyra said, “whenever I wanted to skip out and listen to a musician visiting through the River, we always watched through the—”
“The window!” How did Poe miss that? With the path lined up so tight, the walkway seemed the only way to escape.
Neither one of them had thought about a side exit. Most of the Egyptians and Mayans, who built the pyramids, the non-martyrs anyway, always had a way to sidestep the pitfalls they built.
“But we have to find it first. Remember the misstep we took when we didn’t walk that way?”
The fall still caused her body to ache. But sometimes, one just had to go for it and not worry about what could happen. Just live and aim for your goal. Even her father said that once, right before he’d smashed one of his cars while driving drunk then came home to take it out on both women.
“It’s now or never.”
“Where do we aim?” Lyra shook as she attempted to right herself.
“I have no idea, but, if I’m right, we’ll know before we die.”
“Good to know. I’d hate to find out after it killed us.”
They stepped off the path, and to their relief, didn’t fall into a bottomless pit. A sturdy surface greeted their feet. “Ready?” Poe’s sarcastic smile matched Lyra’s. “For the music they didn’t want us to hear.” For the freedom, and all that they took away.
Lyra followed Poe, taking each step one at a time, both trying not to let the flaring red of the doors blind their way. If there was a window, Poe shuddered to think what would happen if they missed it. Second by second, step by step they walked, each breath echoing the hammering rhythms of their hearts. Where was it?
A dozen more steps. Neither of them plunged to their death.
“There.” Poe pointed just three feet ahead of them.
“Where?” Lyra couldn’t see it.
Well, firsts do happen, Poe mused. She could see the way when someone else couldn’t? Mrs. Berg would be proud. “Give me your hand.” She took the other girl’s hand and felt for the rectangular opening in a wall that neither could see. Then she waved it around the sill where a hard material lined the escape route.
“How do we know what’s on the other side?”
Poe went silent.
“That’s what I figured.”
Both felt their way and perched themselves on the sill. What would happen if it was another trap? She remembered her dad stumbling up the stairs in the middle of the night and she prayed she would die. That was before she’d realized one of the band would take her in for the night. Only her mother knew the truth. She’d confronted the man once and threatened him with the loss of a body part or two. But she wasn’t a part of Poe’s life any longer and never would be again. Even if, by chance, her mother did want to come back into her life again, Poe knew the woman would never stand up for her.
“Rely on yourself,” her mother had said. Thanks, Mom. Maybe for once, the woman had a point that made sense.
She smiled at Lyra and pushed off.
Both of Poe’s feet landed on solid ground. Ahead, a light and another door stood in her way, but somehow, she knew this phase of the fight was over.
“How did you learn to not care if you would die like that?” Lyra stared her down, amazed and admiring. She’d landed carefully, but in obvious pain.
“Try living where I live.”
“You have jails, too?”
Poe flinched. “If we did, I’d stay in my cell all day. It’s the warden who scares me.” As they walked through the exit to find their band mates, she wept and spilled her story for the first time since a year ago when the band had broken wide open with all of their baggage.
Now, again, the tears flowed like pain.