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I sat in the darkness, hugging my knees as I replayed Finn’s last moments, then Mariang’s, then Bishop’s, and then September’s. My love was toxic, so I knew it was best for the world that I stayed locked up. My mind was the perfect prison, and I accepted my punishment with grace, knowing I deserved every bit of it.
“I thought your mind would be more adventurous, that there’d be more to do here. This is it? This is all there is? We gotta get out of here, sweetheart.”
Despite the fact that I wanted to be alone, my head jerked up in surprise at the voice I’d heard no less than a zillion times. A sudden beam of stage light shown down on the man sitting next to me, illuminating his cocky can-do attitude and the best chin of my life. “Bruce Campbell? What are you doing here?”
He was older than he’d been in Evil Dead, but no less glorious. Hints of salt and pepper brushed back from his temples, and the boyish playfulness in his eyes enraptured me as it always had. “What am I doing? I’m boring myself to death, I guess. Really? This is your imagination? Where’s the tree fort? Where are the fast cars? Give me a blank canvas like this, and I’ll do something crazy with it.”
“I bet you would, but this is my world, and I’ve had enough crazy.” Bruce Campbell was the shiz, and this was the best I could offer, as far as a shared adventure went. I was ashamed.
He waited a whole five seconds before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go dig a tunnel and see how far down this thing goes.” He stomped his boot to the black floor.
“You’re not real, and I don’t have a shovel.”
Bruce’s face soured, his chin dimpling in time with the space between his eyebrows. “Of course I’m real! I would never say something so mean to you.”
I picked at a thread on the knee of my jeans. “You know, I used to think that you were my guardian angel. That if you could fight the evil dead, the army of darkness and all that, somehow I could make it through a normal day. Now I’m not so sure.”
Bruce held up his hands and shook his head. “Oh, no. Don’t blame this place on me.”
I glared at him. “Well, if you don’t like it, then you can leave.”
“I don’t believe this.” Bruce stood in frustration, offered his hand to me and yanked me up. “This isn’t how I raised you to be.”
I looked around incredulously. “Um, you didn’t raise me. I don’t even know you in real life.”
“How many of my movies have you seen? TV shows? Didn’t you do a paper on my autobiography for your great American hero assignment? I raised you better than this.”
I think it was when he slapped the back of his hand into his left palm that I started to smile. The upward turn of the corner of my mouth felt foreign to my features, but I couldn’t help it. Bruce Campbell always made me smile. He had that way about him that charmed me every time. “Whatever. You couldn’t pick me out of a lineup of two.”
“So what? Do you think Ash would’ve rolled over and taken a nap when the Candarian demons started attacking?” He waited for my answer, his arms crossed over his chest. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Would you have watched that movie if I wussed out in the second act?”
I hugged my middle and hung my head glumly. “No. I guess not. But this is different. This is reality. I’ve buried too many people. I need a break.”
“Then go watch the friggin’ Brady Bunch.” He shook his head in disgust. Part of me felt the deep shame that Bruce Campbell had finally shown up in my dream, and I was blowing it all over the place. “You’re losing your fight, and that’s not you. Only one way to fix it.”
I lifted my chin and raised my eyebrow, waiting for his miraculous cure. My body jumped back when he pulled a chainsaw out from the darkness that was somehow already wet with blood. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a head start because I’m a nice guy. You want to stay here? You’re gonna have to fight me for the space. You may’ve given up on you, but I haven’t.”
I cast him a dubious look as I backed away slowly. “You’re not going to chase me with that chainsaw.”
“Well, first I’m going to chase you, then I’m going to catch you. Then you die. So either wave your white flag now, or start running.”
“Put that thing down.”
Bruce’s eyes were wild, as I’d seen hundreds of times before when he got super passionate in a scene. He had the best crazy eyes. “You want a life worth going home to? Then you have to fight for it, sweetheart!” He pulled back the string on the chainsaw, starting up the rickety engine on the first try.
I’d expected nothing less from my own personal superhero.
Bruce took a bold step toward me, raising the chainsaw to shoulder height.
I knew that look in his eyes. He wasn’t stopping for nothing. I’d seen him cut off his own hand with that very chainsaw. Dude wasn’t messing around.
I shrieked and ran through the darkness, wishing I’d taken Mrs. Brady up on that pie. More unnerving than the roar of the chainsaw was that while I was running with everything in me, Bruce was walking, his footsteps somehow echoing around me in time with my pounding heart.
I searched for something – anything to hide behind, but Bruce traveled with his own spotlight, so wherever I hid, I was revealed whenever he got close. “Stop it! Just let me be alone!”
“Oh, you’ll be alone, but you’ll also be in pieces.”
I was furious as I ran, that this was the best my imagination could give me when Bruce Campbell showed up in my dream. “You’re a jerk! I’m allowed to grieve, you know. I’m allowed to be sad.” My muscles started to feel the exertion, but I didn’t slow down.
“Nobody’s stopping you from being sad. I’m telling you that the world’s still moving out there, so staying here’s not an option. Checking out’s not an option. Donating your hands to science? That, I can help you with.”
I screamed as I ran through the nothingness, not seeing anything, but feeling a breeze that started to grow colder. “Leave me alone!”
“You’re already alone!”
His words hit me like a ton of obvious bricks. I was alone. I was fighting and running and hiding not just from the horrible things, but from the good things as well. I was running from Ollie, who didn’t deserve that. By giving up on myself, I was giving up on Allie, who needed me even if I was broken. I was running from Ezra, from Mason, from my friends who, flawed as they were, loved me each in their own ways.
I was running from Von, who’d earned the chance to tell me off once and for all.
I was running from myself, but no matter how far Bruce Campbell chased me, I would always have me – for better or worse.
“Okay! Okay, I’ll go back! Just put the chainsaw down!”
The cold breeze started to slow my muscles, growing arctic and painful. A needle-like chill infiltrated my skin and started to seep into my bones, rendering my body clumsy, and not fit for a chase. I stumbled, tripping over my own two feet. I held my arms out, bracing myself for the fall, but steady hands caught me before the floor did.
The noisy chaos of the chainsaw was gone, and I found myself righted by my superhero who had like, the best chin in the whole world. He looked down on me with something akin to pride and gave me half a smile – which as it turns out, was just enough. He released me, chucked my shoulder and said, “See? Told you I was real.”
I let out a short laugh, but it was marred by the cold that swirled through me. With rapidly stiffening arms, I reached up and looped my hands around his neck, squeezing him tight to thank him for the tough love. I silently begged him not to leave me when I returned to my life, and it all fell apart. “Tell me it gets better.”
“Candarian demons haven’t killed me yet. I’ve got high hopes for your ending, too.” He wrapped his arms around me, and somehow that simple motion gave me just enough of my bearings to hold my head up, no matter how grim my ending turned out. He gave me another tight squeeze, flooding my icy limbs with optimism I needed at least one of us to feel. “You did good, kid. Now go on home.”