Where the Staircase Ends(44)

I pounded the step in front of me, this time harder, slapping my palms against the stone with so much vigor I was sure my skin would split from the force. But of course, like everything on the stairs, nothing changed. My palms were smooth and scrape-free. They didn’t even sting from the impact.

I crouched down on the step and ground my teeth to keep from screaming again. That’s when I heard the buzzing sound.

It was light, like the sharp whine of a mosquito, and it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It sounded like an insect was circling my head or hovering behind me, just out of reach.

My head jerked left and right, searching for the source. I expected to see Sunny, Logan, or some other ghostly abomination glowering at me, but the staircase was empty.

The buzzing finally settled next to my left ear, and when I swatted at it, my hand made contact with something soft and bullet-shaped. The thing zipped out in front of me, and I caught sight of an insect slightly larger than my thumb, with four diaphanous wings propelling it forward.

It was a dragonfly. At least I thought it was a dragonfly. There was something about it that seemed too large or too bird-like, but I couldn’t think of what else it might be. Before I could get a closer look, it darted forward, moving like an arrow released from the belly of a bow.

It left a trail behind as it moved, its small body splitting the air into a pinkish wake. It looked like the thing was moving the sky. How was that possible?

The trail hung ribbon-like and glistened like light reflecting off a cresting wave. Then the path slowly began to fade from view, as though the dragonfly-thing had somehow ripped the sky into two halves and it was mending itself back together.

The creature zipped ahead of me until it was at the edge of my line of sight, then it hovered in place, waiting.

Was it waiting for me? It didn’t seem like an insect could actually wait for someone, but I moved my feet quickly up the stairs anyway, following its glistening path.

It hovered until I was close enough to touch it. I could make out tiny hairs covering its thin, greenish body. Its dark eyes were large and placed on either side of its head, and below that sat the thin line of its mouth. And then—I might have thought I was hallucinating if it weren’t for all the other crazy things I’d seen on the stairs—the thing smiled at me. The edges of its mouth tipped upward into a U, a gesture so familiar that it almost seemed human.

What the hell was it?

With what seemed like a final smirk, the creature bolted from its stationary position, flying with such speed that it was gone from my sight before I’d even had time to register its movement. The only clue that it had been there at all was the pinkish trail left in its wake, beckoning me to follow.

I ran after it, my flip-flops clapping against the stone steps in a metronome rhythm. The trail snaked from side to side, and in a few places looped around in a circle, as if the fly had spun back around to make sure I still followed.

Whatever it was, it was fast. I ran as quickly as my legs could manage, but I still couldn’t seem to catch up, even though the winding path made it look like the creature was meandering its way up the steps rather than racing me to the top.

I pumped my arms harder, using them to propel myself forward. In the distance, I caught sight of the dragonfly’s elongated green body as it zipped from side to side on the steps, but it disappeared again in a deft burst of speed.

Come on. I urged my feet to keep moving. It circled back in my direction, a pinkish figure eight trailing behind it, and just when I thought I might catch up to it, the plastic bolt between my toes ripped free from the sole of my flip-flop and I tumbled forward, knocking my knee on the edge of a step.

Man, it hurt. It really, really hurt. So much so that stars burst behind my eyes, white and hot with everything my nerve endings could deliver.

Blood gushed from the open wound on my knee. I was suddenly dizzy from it, feeling for a moment like I might faint.

Then it hit me—it hurt.

I could actually feel real honest-to-God pain in my knee. I hadn’t felt pain since arriving on the stairs—not when I tried to pull the flower up from the ground, not when I slammed my hands against the steps, not even when I ran as hard as I could. I should have felt something all those other times, but I didn’t. So what changed? Why was I suddenly feeling things again?

I ran a thumb across my knee, smearing blood on my clean skin. A sharp jab of pain shot up my leg when I poked at the cut. It was such a relief that I started to laugh. I could feel again. I was bleeding! It was like I was alive again.

Up ahead, the dragonfly had disappeared from view and its pink path began to fade into the sky. I’d have to hurry if I didn’t want to lose the trail.

I leaned on the step in front for support as I stood, ready to run, but stopped short. Something was different. The step felt wrong, like it had changed. Not a major change—it wasn’t like it had suddenly turned from stone to carpet or anything—but it was definitely different than it had been a moment before.

I ran my hand over the top a few times to be sure, then crawled forward a few more steps to check those as well. Sure enough, it was the same on all of them. The center of every step was worn down and grooved, the way staircases leading up to old buildings are worn down from all the feet constantly hitting them and wearing away at the stone. It was a subtle change, but an important one. Because it meant that someone was here before me. And not just someone—someones. There would’ve had to be hundreds, maybe even thousands of feet hitting the steps to wear them down like this. So where did everybody go?