The Afterlands

The New World

“What are you saying?” Hana pants from behind me.

I shrug, refusing to take my eyes away from the rough and steep terrain we’ve decided to traverse on this hot summer day. “I just don’t think I’m ready for something like that.”

“Something like marriage?” I can imagine her throwing up her hands in exasperation. “I mean, what else did you expect, Allyce? You’ve been dating for three years.”

I lift my leg high so my foot can catch onto the rock that’s been made into a step. “Yeah, but that would practically make me a child bride.”

“A, you’re twenty-three. Hardly a child.”

I scoff, but it comes out as a labored breath instead. “I just can’t see myself getting married right now. I mean what I’m doing-- I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life.”

Hana calls for a break now that we’ve passed the tree line. The view from this high is amazing. I can see the city from here, albeit a small city from this altitude.

I sip from the water pack I have strapped to my back and take a deep breath, calming my heart. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I say once my mouth is clear. “Working a nine to five. Getting married and having babies. What kind of monotonous life is that?”

Hana rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Let’s keep going.” But before I’ve taken ten steps, she stops me, pulling on my arm. “Be careful!”

I follow the direction her eyes are going. “What? There’s nothing there.”

“Nothing?” She looks at me incredulously. “You almost stepped into a mushroom circle.” When I raise my eyebrows at her in question, she continues. “Those are ways into another world. A dangerous one filled with mischievous faeries and- Allyce, I can see you laughing.”

I stifle the snicker. “I’m not laughing. It’s just ridiculous to still believe in fairy tales like that. Watch.” Before she can stop me, I place both feet into the middle of the circle. “See? Nothing. Now come on, let’s finish this hike. I’m starting to get hungry.”

Later that evening, after we’d stuffed ourselves full of pizza and beer and said our goodbyes, I showered and changed into a long T-shirt and slid into bed.

“Is that one of mine?” Jon asks, setting his book aside to give me his full attention.

I pick at the collar of the worn-out shirt I chose. “No, an old one of mine.”

“You know, you’re welcome to anything of mine. Especially now.” Jon picks up my left hand and rubs his thumb over the absence of the giant rock he’s calling an engagement ring. My stomach twists at the words spoken earlier with Hana. “You took it off?”

“I didn’t want to lose it hiking, and then I showered. I’ll put it back on in the morning.”

He smiles at that. At me. And then kisses my hairline, turns off the light, and lays on his back to fall asleep.

I try to sleep, I really do. But the sound of his snoring irks me more than it should. I’m exhausted from the hike, from the engagement, from the announcement, and all of the congratulations on social media. I had to turn off my phone just to make it shut up.

I debate turning it on now, opening up the last book I was reading online, some fantasy romance Hana had recommended to me, but a knock echoes loudly from our front door.

The watch hanging limply on the nightstand blinks that it’s past eleven.

Another knock, louder, harder.

I swing my feet off the bed, sighing loudly, though I know it won’t wake Jon up. He’s the heaviest sleeper I’ve ever met, which, right now, only adds to my frustration.

“I’m coming,” I call out as knuckles pound on wood again.

I open the door, the chain lock still in place, and peak through the small crack. “Hello, what is it?” I blindly feel around for the outside light switch, the porch too dark to be able to see the tall figure’s features.

“You’ve trespassed on our land,” a voice grunts out.

“Excuse me?” I’m fumbling for the light and steal a glance so I can locate it, but once I’ve swiveled back around, the body is gone.

I’ve seen horror movies, so, with the porch still lit, I shut the door and deadbolt it behind me, my heart racing just as fast as it was on the hike earlier this morning.

With sleep a distant thought, I sit at the kitchen table, a carton of double chocolate fudge ice cream in front of me, and spoon the contents into my mouth.

The house is silent, and every couple of minutes, I check the front door that’s still locked. It’s the exhaustion getting to me, I reason with myself. Maybe I misheard them. But when I look over my shoulder again, paranoia stealing all logic, the deadbolt is unbolted. The chain is undone.

The spoon slips out of my hand, and the sound jerks me to my feet.

“I’m just tired,” I mumble, softly, slowly making my way to the door, and with trembling hands, lock it once more. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve had a long day, that’s all. No need to panic.”

Taking deep breaths, I almost make it to the stairs before remembering the ice cream and drips that had most likely landed on the counter and floor when I had dropped my spoon.

I stop dead before ever reaching the threshold to the kitchen. Like actually dead. My breathing halts, my heart sputters, and all my muscles turn to stone at the sight of the large, terrifying creature who’s hunched over my carton of delicious double chocolate fudge ice cream, cramming the dessert into its mouth with its hand.

It seems to notice my lack of aliveness and turns towards me, showing off thick eyebrows and the beginnings of a beard. He's large but lankier than I first thought, with long legs and arms and a hood to cover half of his skull. He flicks his hand, spraying chocolate all over the rug.

I can’t help it. I’m snapped out of my stupor. “Hey!”

“The king wants to see you,” his gruffly voice is somehow soothing. His massive size alone is terrifying, but he’s beautiful. And I’m confused. Not just by his words.

“That’s lovely. Please exit my house because I’m going to call the police.” Shit, I should’ve said the police are already on their way. That would’ve motivated him a bit more.

I step backward, wishing for the first time in my life we had a landline because my phone is upstairs and off. Maybe if I screamed, Jon would wake up. I could use my watch to make a call if I had it. It’s on the Wi-Fi.

I don’t make it another step before he’s reaching his long arm and grabbing me by the wrist. “You’ll come with me now.” He shoves me out of the door before I remember to scream. He promptly covers my mouth. “No.”

This can’t be happening. I mean, I know it does happen, but not to me, I’m both too unimportant and equally important. I have a significant job and a soon to be husband, friends (one friend), somewhat of a family, if a sister halfway across town that I call once a month counts.

Oh shit, I’m a loner.

I struggle, squirming and turning to flee, but when that doesn’t work, I try reason. “I don’t have a lot of money, so if that’s what this is about, then you won’t get much. I’m also not a virgin, so it’s not like you can sell me on the black market, I wouldn’t even make that much. I’m terrible at giving-”

“Stop talking,” he shakes me a little, rattling my brain.

“Please don’t do this, people will miss me, you’ll get caught-”

He stops us in the middle of crossing the street. “I promised the king I wouldn’t harm you, but he knows that humans are fragile, and if you lose a limb in transit, I don’t think he’d notice. Now shut up and keep walking.”

Stunned once again, I don’t argue.

We walk through neighborhoods I’ve only driven through, and my legs are beginning to tire. I wish I had my watch to know how long we’ve gone. Or at least to count my steps. The man keeps behind me, and if I turn, he grunts out another warning.

Finally, we stop outside of a large river directly across from the highway.

“Please, just let me go home,” I practically whisper. There isn’t a car or another person around. The man ignores me, and we step into the river. The water is freezing against my socks, and my toes instantly go numb. We wade through and, despite the effortful struggle I put up, walk until we’re up to our chest.

I’m shaking, the chill seeping into my bones. I lift my feet, formulating a plan. If I can swim down river, maybe I can get away, knock on a stranger’s door and they’ll call the police.

Yeah, right. What are the chances I find the one house where they’re serial killers and they sell off my body parts to be eaten or something.

Before I can even begin to float, the man grabs my upper arm and shoves me down under the water. I almost breathe in, but instead fight against him. He’s pushing me into the floor of the river, the mud stirring with every jerk of my body. But the man doesn’t stop, and my lungs are starting to burn.

I had been told before that it’s difficult not to breathe in when drowning, and I never quite understood why. Your instincts are to live, to survive. So why would you do something to contradict that?

Now I get it.

My limbs become numb and hard to move. I can’t fight him anymore. All I can focus on is not breathing.

He pushes me further into the mud, his hand a weight that’s holding me down. But I don’t ever reach the bottom of the river. It’s just more mud, and it’s becoming warmer the deeper we go.

I can’t hold my breath any longer. As my face passes through the thickness that should’ve been the earth, I gasp. But no water enters my lungs. It’s dark all around me, but there’s air in here, wherever we are.

“Take a good deep breath. We’re not finished,” the man says before shoving me again. Water hits my body again, and I barely have time to suck in another breath.

Instead of grey, mucky water, I’m met with clear blue water. There’s fish swimming around me and bright green plants swaying in the current. The man let’s go of me briefly to swim up for air, but my freedom is more important than breathing, and I pump my arms in the opposite direction of him. When I can no longer resist, I break the surface.