The Fall of Never(137)

Josh looked nervous. “Do you think she’s gonna have another seizure?”

“I don’t know.”

Carlos moved toward the bed, reached for his medical bag. He produced an ophthalmoscope and bent down, placing his thumb against the old woman’s left eyelid and pulling it open.

He jerked his hand away. “Son of a bitch.”

Josh looked up. “What?”

“Eyes rolled back.”

“What does that mean?”

“Something with her brain,” Carlos said.

“You can’t—”

Both of Nellie’s eyes flipped open, her lips suddenly drawing together. A subdued look crossed her face.

“Jesus,” Carlos whispered. “Nellie? Nellie?”

“Can you hear us?” Josh chimed in.

The old woman just stared at the ceiling. She looked very peaceful.

Carlos went back to his medical bag. “Nellie, if you can hear me, what I’m going to do is—”

Nellie’s voice cut through him: “We’re in the heart.”

Both Carlos and Josh froze, staring at each other. It wasn’t Nellie’s voice; yet it was. Deeper. Resonating from someplace other than her body. No—she was merely using her body as a voice box, as a conduit. She was speaking from someplace else. Someplace distant.

“We’re in the heart.”

“The heart?” Carlos said.

“Did you find Kelly?” Josh said. “Did you find her? Is she all right? Is she there? Did you find her?”

“Heart,” Nellie muttered. Her eyelids began to flutter. Carlos reached his arms out for her…then retracted, suddenly aware of the intense flow of electricity radiating from Nellie’s body.

“Do something!” Josh shouted. “She’s fading!”

“Josh…”

“Goddamn it! Nellie, did you find her? Is she all right? Tell me! Don’t go until you tell me!”

Nellie’s eyes closed, her mouth went slack. Her hand ceased twitching and fell still.

“It’s building,” Carlos whispered, taking a step away from the bed. He could feel the air tightening again, becoming stronger all around him. His stomach groaned, caterwauled, threw punches. “Josh…”

Josh was not listening. He clung to Nellie’s bedside like a child reluctant to leave a place of comfort, his brows drawn together in panic and frustration. “Did you find her?” he shouted repeatedly. “Did you find her? Did you find her?”

“Josh,” he said again, now backing toward the bedroom door. “Damn it, Josh, listen to me.”

Josh shook his head. “Is she dead, Doc?”

“Just the opposite.” He brought a finger up, straight into the air. “Can you feel it? It’s building again.”

Behind Josh, the plastic taped to the bedroom window began to rustle, as if accosted by a harsh wind.

“Oh.” Josh said this almost matter-of-factly, and turned to move away from Nellie’s bedside.

“Come on,” Carlos urged, already feeling his stomach start to cramp. “Let’s get the hell out in the hallway before she blows our minds—”

The bedroom door slammed shut and they both jumped.

“Shit,” Josh said, his voice half-choked.

Carlos rushed to it, grabbed the knob, tried to open it. Stuck. He rubbed his hands down his pants then went for the knob again—only to pull his hands away, tweaked by a spark of blue light. Behind him, dresser drawers began to slam and split down the middle. He felt his stomach edge closer and closer to some invisible hillside. It’s like climbing the first drop of a roller coaster, he thought. Just waiting for the drop.

And he knew the drop could come at any second.





Chapter Twenty-Eight


She is aware of darkness and light; of alternating chemistries, both false and real, and the strain of multiple complexities against her skin, her body. There is a sensation of union here, an impression of spontaneous augmentation. Individuality becomes indistinct. She is aware of propulsion, of moving forward—pushed forward. The heat around her becomes physical and operates as cilia, orchestrating her progression in fluid undulations. She moves toward an ending, a beginning. And though she works at it, she finds there is no thinking here, no contemplation…and it occurs to her that she is in the middle of it all, of everything. Of herself. She is here and she is now. And not alone. That strain presses against her, holds her together, yet threatens to tear her apart at the same time. She feels the walls breathe. She feels another presence…and then another—a third—yet far off in the distance. Again, she tries to think, but finds only that her thinking is now a physical thing and she is powerless to understand anything in this black-and-white void. Her mind is a patterned maze extended before her through which she now falls. Her body feels like a thousand arms and fingers, each of them probing against individual darkness. This cavernous channel, dense with fluid heat, convulses to expel her and donate her body to another world. Yet…a familiar world. This is a passage, she understands. This is a portal, a conduit, a wormhole.

Inside the heart.



Then she was suddenly there in familiar darkness.

At first, she could hear only her breath coming in quick little gasps. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out shapesrancor of rotting citrus fruit. The smell of cloth, of wool, and old clothes collecting dust. Urine. Lilac, though faintly.—familiar shapes—all around her: a door; a bed; a hand-carved rocking chair clogged with stuffed toys; an open window; a figure beneath the bed sheets. Smells came next, almost cloying. Medicinal smells, coupled with the