Through the Windshield Glass (17 page)

It took a few
moments for everything to click into place. I had forgotten I'd agreed to help
Da-- Michael with his plans.

"Right,"
I said. I pushed myself off the ground and looked down at Maria who was still
basking in the sun. I nudged her with my foot and her eyes flicked open without
hesitation. When she saw Leigh she got up and hugged the little girl.

Leigh giggled
and hugged Maria right back.

"I like
her, she's pretty and nice, just like you."

"Can you
say thank you?" I asked Maria. I'd been working on her speech in between
meals and had almost gotten her to say a few words. Her favorite to attempt was
'Alice', but the 'li' kind of got lost in her untrained throat.

Maria didn't
respond to my question so Leigh asked it, "Say thank you."

Leigh showed
Maria how to move her mouth and tongue and had placed Maria's hand on her
throat so she could feel the vibration as Leigh pronounced the words.

"Thank
you," Leigh said again. Then she put a hand on Maria's throat and told her
to repeat.

" 'Ank
'oo," Maria said. The words were more like a grunt than a show of
gratitude and it took every effort Maria possessed to make them come, but they
were words nonetheless.

I gaped at
Leigh, "How did you do that? I've been trying to get her to do that for
three days!"

"You just
have to show them how to do it right. I've been practicing with the other
people like her, but I've never been able to get them outside, how did you do
that?"

"I just
held her hand and as soon as she saw the sun she was gone. She really likes to
hold hands."

Leigh smiled and
grabbed Maria's hand, once again, Maria looked normal. Her eyes glowed with
life and she looked at Leigh as though she really did know who she was.

"You hold
my other hand and I'll take you to the meeting," Leigh said. She extended
her free hand to me and I took it.

Leigh led the
way with confidence, not once stopping to ask why my hand was sweating
profusely.

Chapter Twenty-four

Michael was
right behind the door waiting for me, "I'm glad you could make it,"
he said.

"I didn't
come for you, it was Leigh," I was being mean again. I had to be, all I
could see was Daman, and it helped to be angry rather than afraid. The
deception was gone when I blinked, but for a few terrifying moments I thought
Daman had found me already.

Michael sighed
and stepped aside so I could see the rest of the room and its fifty or so
occupants. Avery was there of course, but if there were any familiar faces I
couldn't put names, real or fake, to them. Most were men, but there were a few
women, their faces hard, raking me up and down with their eyes as though
judging whether or not I was going to be valuable to them or if they should
kick me out now.

"She's a
little small," one of the women said. Easy for her to say, she was taller
than Kinga and twice as broad, most of the men looked small compared to her.

"Be nice,
Max, she might be the way to Alecsander," it was Avery who spoke. I know
it was his way of sticking up for me, but it didn't make me feel any better.

"If I
agree to help you," I said without thinking.

Max
　
rose up out of her chair as
though she wanted nothing more than to wring my neck, I tried not to flinch,
but it was difficult.

"Maxine,
calm down," Michael said in a cool but commanding tone, then he turned to
me, "I thought you already agreed to help."

Michael had me
there, I had, but I'd agreed to help to for Leigh, not him.

"Fine, but
if I don't like your plan—"

"If you
don't like our plan you can leave," Michael said, "but if you tell
anyone what we're doing, I can't know what the consequences will be."

"Are you
threatening me?" I asked, “It’s not like I can die again and I’m already
pretty miserable here.”

"Au
contraire, you know so little about this place. You can, in fact, die again. I
would do nothing to hurt you, but there is no telling what they might do behind
my back."

I felt like
slapping Michael across the face. He had lured me here, convinced me I'd be
safe, then told me if I wasn't careful he'd look the other way while his people
tore me apart.

"Your
little ideas had better be very convincing," I hissed at Michael.

"I am sure
they will be if you allow yourself to listen, but first, my people have some
questions for you."

"I didn't
promise to answer any questions, I have too many of my own that need
answering."

"The only
way they will answer yours is if you answer theirs, please, do it for
Leigh?" Michael added the last bit in quiet plea to me. I pursed my lips
as I realized the authority he was pretending to exercise over me was all a
ruse to get the group to look to him as a leader. He was no better than Kinga.

It was low to
use Leigh as leverage against me, but I couldn't say no, especially knowing how
much that little girl craved the information that was shared in these grown-up
meetings.

I nodded my
consent and turned to the waiting crowd with open arms, "Ask me
anything."

"How did
you die?" Max asked. Her words were a challenge; I felt she was daring me
to have a more exciting death than she.

"I was
killed in a car crash," I replied. I hoped that would be enough to satiate
the question but it was obvious from the quiet response I got to my answer that
I would have to divulge much more than what had sufficed for Daman.

I launched into
the whole torturous tale. When Leigh had left I'd taken Maria's hand; when I
got to the part about her suicide, even though I omitted her name, I felt her
twitch. It made me wonder for the first time whether or not she was actually
beginning to understand words instead of just over exaggerated actions.

"And then
I ended up in my hallway, and eventually made it here," I finished.

Maxine nodded;
obviously she was still deciding whether or not my death was as grand as hers.

"You have
to tell us about your experience in the hall sweetheart, all of us divulged,
now it's your turn," it was Avery speaking this time.

I glanced at
Michael who shrugged apologetically for Avery's harshness.

I rolled my
eyes, shook my head and looked back over the small congregation. After a heavy
sigh
　
I told my story, not
excluding any names this time. The shock in the room was palpable as the
connection between Daman and Alecsander was made. When I had finished the room
was completely silent, then one brave soul asked a question that stopped my
breathing. The man who asked was taller than Michael by a at least three
inches, but half as wide, skinnier than I had thought was possible for a man to
be.

"You say
you were in love with Daman, the same man who calls himself Alecsander now, how
do we know you aren't some spy for him?"

"Luther,
how could you even ask that? Daman nearly took her with him, the very fact that
she is here and didn't choose to go with him is a testament of her loyalty to
us!" Michael shouted.

"It's a
valid point!" Max returned. She was standing now, I had not noticed until
then how tall she really was, but she towered over Michael and her glare alone
was enough to make me want to flinch away into a dark corner.

"Valid as
it might be," Michael said assertively, "It is irrelevant."

A new voice
joined the argument. The voice quavered and dripped like glue, as if the
speaker was tasting every word before spitting it out, and rather savoring the
venom and betrayal in them, "How do we know you are not just protecting
your brother's spy?"

A collective
gasp filled the silence following the accusation. Michael looked taken aback
and gaped aimlessly for a minute before he was able to recover and speak again.

"My
brother?" Michael finally asked.

The owner of
the voice stood, it was an elderly man. Rail thin, and extremely tall. If he
hadn't already been dead I wouldn't have expected him to last much longer.

"Do not
pretend ignorance," the man spoke slowly and deliberately. He clasped his
hands in front of him and stared coolly in our direction, "anyone who has
seen the two of you next to each other cannot argue against the obvious
similarities."

"I'm
sorry," Michael said, "I don't believe we've met."

"You may
call me Gregor, how do you do?"

Michael was
able to hide his extreme confusion well, "Fine, thank you. Do you mind
explaining what you mean?"

Gregor rolled
his eyes, "You know exactly what I am implying; however, for the benefit
of the oblivious, I will explain myself."

The oblivious
looked half angry and half confused at Gregor's words. He seemed to relish the
torn interests and took his time gathering his thoughts before he spoke again.
He made me think of the stooped old man Gaston paid to take Belle’s father away
in
Beauty and the Beast
.

"Perhaps
it would be easier if I started at the beginning."

"That's
usually a very good place to start," Michael said without humor.

"No, my
boy. The very beginning of everything, the beginning of this place, at least as
far as we know. Does that agree with you?" Gregor's tone was
condescending, and although Michael was much younger, it was obvious he wasn't
used to being talked down to.

"Be my
guest," Michael said with a wave of his hand. He was doing a wonderful job
of keeping his composure, "I'm sure we would have gotten around to telling
the story sooner or later today. Might as well come from someone so well
acquainted with the history."

Gregor ignored
Michael's slight at his age. He sidled his way out of the chair he had been
sitting in and asked permission to stand before the gathered people.

Michael
gestured for him to do as he pleased then helped Maria and me find a chair.

Gregor looked
down his nose at all of us, his hands still clasped in front of him. His eyes
were gray and large, reminding me of an owl. A particularly hungry owl
searching for its next meal and we were all his unsuspecting prey.

"As most
of you know," Gregor began, "we aren't completely sure of when this
place began. But as far as we have gathered, it has been around since the first
death, and will continue until the last person gets tired of living."

Chapter Twenty-five

History only
tells of one king of Beyond. He has gone by many names; however, none have
really been personal. Those closest to him called him father or brother, while
most of his subjects just called him King, reverently though, always
reverently, and always lovingly.

No one ever
questioned why he ruled; there was no reason to. He was fairer than any man on
earth, he knew each of his subjects personally, and when he took his frequent
walks around the kingdom, his wife on his right, he would greet each face with
a name. He laughed more joyfully than what seemed possible, there was no way to
describe his looks. His face constantly changed; always handsome, always merry,
but always different.

The only
thing imperfect about the perfect King was his lack of an heir. Even the
dullest inhabitant of Beyond knew that a king should have an heir, immortal or
not, so they gently pressed their beloved ruler to find his successor should
the unthinkable happen.

Of course,
it was impossible for the kingdom to have an heir by birthright, so the search
began, and the search ended. There was no one fit for the position, it seemed
and the notion of an heir was to be forgotten. The people rationalized it was
probably for the best, the earth stories of monarchy were riddled with stories
of sons murdering fathers and brothers for the throne and the temptation of the
greatest kingdom ever established along with immortality would be too great for
someone less than extraordinary.

Years
passed, the kingdom grew, but never to capacity. More and more people were
beginning to wonder what lay beyond Beyond. So, rather than allow his people to
find their own ways out, the King had a door put in place, all one had to do
was walk through and leave. For days the queue stretched more than a mile as
curious folks who had been here too long began to say their goodbyes and leave.

Although the
kingdom had begun to shrink, the King was not worried for he knew more would
always be coming. Besides he knew the door was better than the alternative way
out. He didn't want anymore of his people to go through what others before them
had. You see, to leave before the door was constructed was nearly impossible.
One could not simply kill his or herself to be excused from this life, they
either had to be forcibly removed, or simply give up entirely.

This was a
horrific process, completely solitary. Only the most desperate attempted this
method. It entailed not eating, barely breathing, and in essence losing his or
herself within their mind. The person would be driven near insanity before they
would simply wither and be blown away with the next breeze.

It is widely
seen as a stroke of pure genius on the King’s part for having the door built.
No one knows for sure how it was done, but it’s timing was perfect. The mass
exodus of some of the people made room for the biggest rise in population
Beyond had yet to see. On earth, it was called the Civil War.

Thousands
upon thousands of men arrived every day, some women and children, mostly
slaves, began arriving as well. They all told stories of their attempts to
escape the southern war through the underground railroad before they were
either shot or died of starvation and cold. When they were asked who had led
them on their way, a name was whispered with such reverence as to make the King
himself want to bow his head. Jenny Sumner.