A Door

THE AIR SLOWED AS ANYWAY, Spuddle, Alice, and Stella rose through an opening at the edge of the twisted circular machine. The inside was dark, but not black. It was the red of dark wine, and it seemed to throb as if the walls had a pulse. The air below them continued to blow, but it seemed to have reached its summit. They balanced there for a moment, like a ball balanced at the highest point on a fountain.

Stella leaped toward the ledge. “Let’s go.”

The ledge underfoot had an unpleasant texture. It was a bit squashy, like a thick exercise mat or, perhaps, a tongue. Overhead, taking up almost the entire hangar-size space, was the inky, churning vortex they’d seen from below. It sparkled with tiny lights. But these lights were not cheering—they were cold, each a single pinprick of fear connected to a nebula of wires. The center of the nebula emitted a terrifying sound, a screeching crunch and grind like the sound of bones caught in a wood chipper.

The spiral crouched overhead, flickering. It continued to grind and gurgle as the lights screamed with pained ferocity. Brilliant, almost blinding, flashes reflected against the red walls, making Stella’s eyes hurt, making her ears ache, stabbing a hole in her heart. She had the feeling that the thing—whatever it was—wasn’t quite alive, but wasn’t quite dead, either, and it was being tortured. She was filled with revulsion and horror and wondered what might happen if she were sick. She swallowed the vomit rising in her throat and turned away, just in case.

“What is it?” Spuddle screeched, staring up at the hideous cyclone.

“I’m not sure.” Alice’s voice was slow and hesitant. “But I think they must be—”

“Souls,” Anyway said.

What happens when a soul is tortured until it is snuffed out?

The thoughts loop, endlessly grinding, like gears that can’t catch. They repeat, sending their excruciating messages in endless repetition until they drown out all other thoughts and erase emotions. Day by day, the person grows more and more withdrawn. Their eyes become haunted and their expression flattens until the roaring furnace hisses, dims, flickers, and finally—goes out.

This is not death. Death is what happens to the body in the waking world. When the spirit is crushed, it is a death that defies the power of life. You breathe, you eat, you sleep. And all of the time the Nightmares dwell inside of you, and any happy feeling or thought that tries to enter withers under the force of this power.

As Stella stood, looking at the vortex, she thought about how Cole had always had a light inside of him, but lately the light had been muted. She could almost see the thick veil of fog that circled his head like a corona. She thought about Angry Pete and how his eyes were blue but seemed like two dark holes leading to the bottom of an ancient well where nothing stirred. She thought of the way that he seemed to spout shadow, of the way she feared him before he had ever spoken to her. Stella knew that if she did not find Cole, the essence of him would fade—like a vibrant chalk drawing blurred and eventually washed away by rain.

“If it’s a transformer—and I think it is—we can shut it down,” Stella announced. She studied the spiral and the connecting wires, and suddenly remembered programming a basic circuit board with her father.

“This is the capacitor,” he had explained, his long finger pointing. “It stores energy and then releases it.”

Capacitor. Circuit. Transformer. Induction. Energy. Voltage. Her mind lit up, and she saw it at once.

“The transformer takes energy and magnifies it.” Stella pulled What’s diagram from her pocket and pointed to it. “For the new Nightmare Line—that’s how they’ll get the energy they need to power it.”

“We’ll smash it,” Alice announced, but Stella caught her arm.

“Wait—wait,” Stella’s mind spun frantically. “So—the cloud is transforming soul energy. But where are the capacitors? The things that create the power?” Stella asked.

Alice, Spuddle, and Anyway stared blankly back at her. “Where are the people at the other end of the connecting wires?” she clarified. “Where is my brother? I see his energy up there, but where is he?”

They stood at the edge of a crater. The eddy swirled at the center, reaching down to unknown depths. A waterfall spilled from the edge of the crater, the water disappearing into the cyclone without a sound. Around the edge of the crater were seven caves. To the left of the waterfall, one of the caves formed a triangular A-frame. To the right, the cave was a straight column.

“If I had to bet, I’d say he’s in one of those,” Anyway told her.

“It’ll take us forever to search them all!” Spuddle cried.

“We have to shut this down now,” Alice repeated. “Look, I don’t want to run into a Chimerath, or something worse, before we stop this thing.”

They stared at the horrible writhing spiral arms. Stella’s flesh squirmed at the sight. “What happens to Cole if we shut it down?” she demanded. “Even if he gets out of the new Nightmare Line, he could end up lost and stuck on the old one. And he might never find his way out.”

“What happens if we don’t shut it down?” Alice shot back.

Stella’s gaze returned to the openings. At that moment, Stella heard her name. The hideous noise was still billowing from the churning cloud, but she heard the voice clearly.

“Cole,” she whispered. She looked at the caves, watching the waterfall, soundlessly, soundlessly. It fell forever.

“Just let me try to get him,” she said. “I think I know where he is.”

“What?” Spuddle cried. “How?”

“Look—my brother’s poems, remember? He left them for me, like pebbles. A cave. Water. Sand and boulders. The truth hides between letters. . . .” She gestured toward the cave shaped like an A and the one shaped like an I—between them was the waterfall. “There has to be another cave behind that waterfall.”

Alice looked shaken. “We have to stop this,” she said, arms waving toward the giant transformer.

“Let me find him first,” Stella begged.

Alice held her gaze for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. “Go as quickly as you can,” she said.

“Don’t do anything until I come back,” Stella begged.

“I can’t promise,” Alice told her. “Just get him—fast.”

The waterfall fell in a silver sheet, like rolled tin. But as they raced toward it, they could see that the cliff continued behind it.

“I—thought there would be a cave here,” Stella said. “I was so sure of it.”

“Then he’s here,” Anyway said.

“He isn’t, though,” Stella replied. “There’s no entrance.”

Anyway glanced up at her sharply, then looked back at the wall. “Why do you insist on being able to see everything?” he demanded.

Normally, Stella would have argued. But she didn’t have time for that and, more importantly, neither did Cole. He needed her. So she decided that—since logic didn’t seem to matter much in the Dreamway—she would just skip the part where she insisted that reality could never work that way and get on with it. “How do I get inside?”

“You walk through,” Anyway replied.

Stella took a cautious step. Then another and she was halfway through the rough rock wall. One more, and she was on the other side, standing at the end of a long hallway lined with many rooms. She raced down the hallway. Each room held a person. One woman stared blankly at the exit. One man was asleep on the floor. One girl was scribbling on the walls. None of them seemed aware of Stella. Stranger, none of them seemed to realize that they weren’t being held there. There were no bars. No doors. It looked to Stella as though they could simply walk into the hallway and out toward the waterfall and be free.

Twelve rooms down, on the right, Stella saw a boy with black hair, slumped in a chair. He was thin and pale and weak looking, and it made Stella’s heart sick to look at him. “Cole?” she whispered.

Cole didn’t move.

“We’re too late,” Anyway whispered, and Stella darted forward only to run into a wall. She put out her hands, feeling along the invisible barrier, which was cold as ice. So cold it burned her skin. She looked down at Anyway. “Why do you insist on being able to see everything?” the mouse repeated, but this time, his voice held a note of sadness.

“Cole!” Stella shouted, and her brother’s eyes fluttered open. They gazed out into the distance. “Stella?” he called hoarsely. “Where are you?”

“Cole!” she shrieked from the behind the clear blockade. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

“Where?” Cole wailed. “Stella, I can’t see you! I can’t move!”

Panic pooled into Stella’s stomach, pumping through her veins, reaching every part of her body. “What’s wrong with him?” Stella looked down at Anyway. “Why can’t he see me?”

Anyway stared at the boy. “Ask him what he does see.”

“Cole!” Stella cried. “Cole—where are you? What do you see?”

“I’m in the desert!” Cole shouted. He lifted his head and called toward the ceiling, as if he were at the bottom of a hole. “I’m standing on a land mine—if I step off, I’ll explode!”

“Cole—Cole, listen to me—that isn’t real,” Stella shouted. “It isn’t real. I can see you. You’re here with me! In the middle of an empty—”

“It is real!” Cole shrieked. “Dad’s here, but it’s not him, Stella! He’s coming for me! He’s going to—” He let out a strangled cry, and Stella beat against the invisible walls, smashing it with her fists, slamming it with her whole body. “It’s just fear, Cole! You’re just afraid! You’re trapped in a Nightmare!”

“Stella!” he screamed. “Help me!”

“It isn’t real, Cole! Listen to me! It isn’t real!”

Cole let out a hideous scream as Anyway ran frantically along the wall, trying desperately to find another opening, but there was none, visible or invisible.

“It isn’t real! This kind of pain can’t kill you!” Stella screamed.

“It is killing me. . . .” Cole sobbed. “It’s killing me. . . .”

“Kill it back!” Stella cried. “You’ve got to kill it back!”

“I can’t!” Cole groaned.

He was right there—right there, and Stella couldn’t do anything to save him. He was going to have to save himself—but how? How could she get him to do it?

“You’re brave,” Stella said slowly. “Cole—you’ve always been the brave one.”

“I’m tired,” Cole whispered, weeping. “I don’t want to be brave anymore.”

“Just a little more,” Stella replied. “I know you can. You’re the one who told Mom and Dad when I was having a seizure. You’re the one who told me stories all night when Dad was deployed. You stood up for me when Connor teased me. Please. Be brave a little more. Be brave for me. This is fear—just . . . feel it. Just feel it and then come grab my hand.”

“How do I know that you’re real?”

“You’ll just have to trust,” Stella replied. “You have to trust me.”

Cole slumped to the floor, and Stella screamed. The chair fell with a metallic clang, and Cole wriggled to his knees. He choked and cried, placing a hand to his throat as he crawled forward. Stella was now pressed against the invisible wall with her whole body, heedless of the burning pain as her brother struggled forward. “I’m here!” she cried. “I’m right here!”

His knees slid forward. He gasped and cried, one hand reaching for her, the other hand to his throat.

“I won’t leave!” Stella whispered. “I’m here!”

Agony tore at her, her skin burned, she felt as if her chest were breaking open as she watched her brother struggle. He drew closer, she could see his black eyes. They blinked and stared, not seeing her—caught in their own visions as Cole recoiled from some invisible horror.

He was close now—not more than a foot away.

“I’m here,” Stella said. “Reach out.”

His eyes were wide with horror. “I can’t—”

He didn’t move. He was perfectly still—almost hypnotized.

“Hold me in your mind, Cole,” Stella said. “You don’t have to see me to know I’m real. Just remember me. Think of Mom . . . and Dad . . . and Aunt Gertie and Renee . . . Remember us.”

Tentatively, like a sprout struggling through the dark earth to reach the light, Cole reached out. His fingertip touched the other side of the wall.

Stella leaned forward and placed her finger on her side. Then she pressed her whole palm against the wall, whispering, “I’m here. I’m right here. You can see me in your mind.”

He pressed his finger against the barrier, and suddenly, instead of the frigid burn of the wall, she felt Cole’s hand. It was cold and sweaty as she grabbed it and pulled him through, but it was his hand, his living hand. It was the real Cole. It was her brother.

His hand grew warmer, then hot, then searing, and as Stella pulled him into a hug, her body burned cold and the gray room disappeared, and she stepped right into Cole’s dream.

The walls dissolved, and Stella was back in the desert. She screamed as the sky ripped open, crushing her beneath a wall of sound. Before her, flames licked toward the sky as Cole ran toward a dusty brown Jeep. It burned, bright and hot, but it was not consumed. The noise had deafened Stella, but she could read the word on her brother’s lips: Dad.

We’re in our father’s desert, she realized, and her mind raced. What if it’s real? What if Cole and I never wake up? What if reality has crossed over and we can’t escape—ever?

Struggling, she staggered toward Cole and wrapped her arms around him. She held on to him as if she would never let go.