The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [254]
Dark, musty air closed around him. How many years had it been since they had lived there? He didn’t know. It smelled like a long time. It was hard to see; only a faint starglow filtered through the curtains. Then he moved farther in and saw the dim light falling down the stairs.
He fumbled his way toward the stairs, then climbed to the hallway on the second floor. All the doors were shut except for one. Gold light shone beyond. It drew Travis forward, over the dusty rag carpet, past molding wallpaper. He hesitated at the door, wondering what waited beyond, then stepped through.
It took a moment for the scene to register fully, then he laughed—although it was a bitter sound. Had they done this as their last act—had they left this to wait for him until the day he finally came back?
And it didn’t matter. All that was important was that he finally knew what he was supposed to do.
Her room was just as he remembered it. The white shelves were crowded with books and stuffed animals, and more books were piled on a small white desk. A pink canopy covered the bed, matching the pillows and sheets. On the white table next to the bed, beside the clown lamp someone had turned on, were a glass of water and a medicine bottle.
The darkness in the hallway behind Travis gathered in on itself, taking shape, pushing him forward. But he hardly needed its urging. They had joined Alice. But they could never have loved her like he did.
Travis moved into the room, careful not to knock into any of her things. He was tall and clumsy, and he had to be careful around her because she was small and fragile. That’s what his mother always told him.
He crouched beneath the canopy, then lay down on her bed. It was far too small, and he had to bring his knees close to his chest so that he was more sitting than lying, his back to the pillows and the wall. But that was all right. A light, sweet scent rose from the bedspread. Her scent. He breathed it in a moment. Then he turned and took the medicine bottle from the night table. Pills jiggled inside.
Travis looked at the label on the bottle, but the numbers and letters capered about in a mocking dance. He concentrated, but he couldn’t follow their movements. Not that it made much difference. He opened the cap and upended the bottle, dumping its contents onto his hand.
A pile of small, purple pills rested on his palm, each one marked by a tiny lightning bolt.
Travis frowned at the pills. They seemed wrong, somehow. Sinister. But what did it matter? Whatever they were, they would do what they had to. They had joined Alice first, but it was his turn now. The shadow poured in through the door, pressing against the little yellow light, hungry. Waiting.
Good night, Big Brother.
’Night, Bug.
He wasn’t even sad anymore as he lifted his hand and took all the pills at once into his mouth.
Don’t do this, Travis.
He clenched his jaw, holding the pills against his tongue, as the voice spoke in his mind. It was a woman’s voice, smoky and familiar.
Don’t swallow them. If you do, it will win.
Confusion filled him. What will win?
The shadow. That’s why it brought you here.
No, I came here.
The woman’s voice was urgent. He felt a presence, like a green-gold light. No, Travis, you didn’t. It brought you to this place, to your past. I know because it did the same thing to me, it tried to destroy me with my memories, but I … I resisted. You have to resist, too. If you don’t, then everything is lost, everything we’ve fought for.
Travis still didn’t understand, but the voice seemed so familiar. It was impossible not to listen.
Spit them out, Travis.
The voice was harder, a doctor giving orders. It was so hard to move. The pills had begun to melt into a bitter sludge on his tongue. He must have swallowed some of it, for a heaviness descended over him. The shadow pushed deeper into the room, eating the light.
Please, Travis.
The voice was fading. Travis’s eyes started to droop shut. The shadow coiled a dark tendril around his neck, massaging his throat gently, insistently. Travis started