White Space

“A boy with your gifts.” The whisper-man tut-tutted. “And you went into the Marines? Such a waste.”

“Gifts?”

“Why yes, Son. You’re a smart kid; you’ve figured it out already. Each of you has a special gift, even if you don’t know what it is just yet.”

“Stop calling him that! You’re not our father. He’s not your son and neither am I,” Casey said. “We know what you are.”

“OH, CASEY,” the whisper-man said, reverting back to its own voice, which wasn’t necessarily a relief. To Eric, it sounded like both a gargle and the scream of nails over a blackboard. It felt like knives in his brain. “YOU DON’T HAVE A CLUE, MY BOY. YOU REALLY DON’T.”

“Fine, then show yourself.” Casey scrubbed away the whisper-man’s words with an angry swipe of his hand. “Stop playing games. If this is our nightmare, you don’t need Rima. Let her go.”

“OH NOW, I COULDN’T DO THAT—NOT YET, ANYWAY,” the whisper-man said. “WE NEED TO COME TO TERMS FIRST. SO I THINK I’LL HOLD ON TO HER FOR THE TIME BEING.” A crimson spider stretched along Rima’s left side as a fresh seam opened. “A LITTLE COLLATERAL, DON’TCHA KNOW.”

“Collateral for what?” Eric said.

“A BARGAIN, OF COURSE. A NEGOTIATION.”

“What could we possibly have that you can’t already take?” Eric said. “Where can we go? We’re in your space.”

“I want to talk to Rima,” Casey said.

“I WANT TO TALK TO RIMA, PLEASE,” the whisper-man said. “CASEY, WE REALLY HAVE TO WORK ON YOUR MANNERS.”

“Where is she?” Casey shouted.

“SHE’S RIGHT HERE—SCREAMING HER HEAD OFF, I’LL GIVE YOU THAT. THIS IS THE PROBLEM WITH USING YOU WHEN YOU’RE AWAKE. EXCEPT FOR EMMA, IT’S MUCH EASIER WHEN YOU’RE ASLEEP. WHY, IF I WEREN’T SUCH A STRONG CUSS, SHE MIGHT DISTRACT ME.”

“What?” Eric heard Emma say; from her tone, he couldn’t tell if she was startled or had suddenly found the missing piece of a mental jigsaw puzzle.

“What do you mean, using us when we’re awake?” Eric said to the whisper-man. “Why is Emma different? What are you talking about?”

The thing in Rima’s body kept on as if he hadn’t spoken. “BUT RIMA’S JUST A SLIP OF A THING, AND NOT VERY STRONG. SO SENSITIVE, SO SWEET—AND I KNOW SHE LIKES YOU, CASEY. SHE WOULD DO ANYTHING TO SAVE YOU. TRUST ME ON THAT. I THINK THE TWO OF YOU WERE SOMEHOW MEANT FOR EACH OTHER.”

“Then please stop hurting her.” Casey’s lips trembled, but he shrugged out of Eric’s grasp and pulled himself up straight. The deep bruises on his translucent skin were as livid as clotted blood. “Let her go before you kill her. You have the power to do that.”

“It does, but it won’t, Casey. Not yet, anyway. It wants to play just a little longer,” Emma said. She had gone very pale. Her cobalt eyes were nearly violet in the bad light. “Where’s McDermott? Where’s Lizzie?”

“THAT BRAT?” The whisper-man spluttered a wet, horsey sound. Blood misted in a tiny cloud. “LITTLE LIZZIE WAS NEVER HERE.”

EMMA Monster-Doll

SHE HAD ALREADY half-guessed the truth. The story had spun itself out in her blinks: Lizzie’s parents, the Mirror, the panops and Peculiars, Lizzie’s dolls, the flight from the house, that crash, and that very last blink in which Meredith lay dying, with Lizzie not far behind, as the fog leaked and nosed its way inside the little girl. There had been all that talk about tangles. But the shock still hit Emma like a slap.

Lizzie had felt it with the monster-doll, which must have been some incarnation of the whisper-man. How Lizzie did it, Emma couldn’t guess, but it must be a little like any kid at play: you act out all the parts. You get into the doll’s head and lose yourself in a fantasy world. Somehow, using the galaxy pendant, Lizzie must’ve crossed into some realm. Bypassing the gateway that was the Mirror? Or had she found another machine? For that matter, maybe the cynosure had more than one function, could be used in ways Lizzie’s parents hadn’t known or understood.

Either way, Lizzie had grabbed a piece of the whisper-man—or he’d hung on to her; who knew?—and then the whisper-man talked to her in a language she could understand. They’d played. They went places; it had shown her how to do things in different Nows. Yet, with every contact, untangling who she was from it was harder. A bit of Lizzie was always left behind, and vice versa. It had sunk in its teeth, gotten a taste. So when the fog finally caught them after the crash, that enormous tangle of energy—from the Peculiars, the whisper-man, and what was left of her father—invaded the little girl, walked her brain, and became her, sliding inside Lizzie’s skin to wear her the way you did a glove. It just hadn’t done it fast enough, and Lizzie had time to finish her special forever-Now and imprison them both.