“…last man standing.”
I hear the voice as though in a dream—familiar and yet not, comforting and terrifying at the same time. Why? It’s Thomas, talking about something I don’t understand and my head is killing me and if only he could stop sounding so wrong and…
Oh God.
I had a flicker of memory. Not Thomas. Someone that looked like him. Taking me back to the house, to the Tree, and me arguing with him, trying to convince him that he shouldn’t do this while looking for an opening to attack or escape.
But he’d either sensed my growing rebellion or decided it was time to shut me up for whatever he had planned, and as soon as we reached the bottom of the basement stairs he’d been on me, holding a cloth to my face while wrapping his other arm tightly around my waist. I tried to break free, but it was no use. Thomas or not, he was big and strong enough to keep the cloth in place until the world slipped away.
I open my eyes, recoiling slightly against the brutal onslaught of the light as the room burns itself into view. I was next to the hole leading to the prison room, and there was Not Thomas, and there…Oh no.
I knew my Thomas right away, and seeing both of them together just made their differences all the more obvious. The man standing above Thomas has a tension to him—a coil of anger stretched tight across some chasm where his heart should be. His back is to me, but I can tell by his posture that he’s readying himself to attack even as Thomas tries to get up.
He…He’s going to kill him. I feel something lurch in my chest as I catch a glimpse of scarlet on Thomas’ stomach between the other man’s legs. He’s already hurt. I’ve got to help him. If I wasn’t so fucking out of it and weak feeling, but I have to do something. I can try to distract him, but what if that isn’t enough? I need a weapon. Maybe the leg from the bed I was using? But what if I can’t hit him hard enough or…fuck, can I even stand? I have to hurry or it’s going to be…
I see an unfamiliar glint of metal shining out from on top of the chest in the prison room.
What is that? Where did it come from?
I pull myself closer. Thomas was talking to the man now, but I couldn’t focus on what was being said. I had to make my limbs work, quickly and quietly. Try to reach that glinting bit of silver. Before it was too late.
I searched my double’s face, looking for some sign of doubt or remorse. Some kind of…what was the word? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered any more if I couldn’t find a way to stop him or at least make him leave Rachel alone.
“Just…Just take me. I won’t fight you. And they sent you for me, not her, right?” I was guessing at this based on what he’d said, but I could tell by his eyes that I’d struck a nerve. He may be working with Solomon or whoever else, but he was still afraid of them. I had a moment of hope that I’d started to change his mind, but then his expression hardened again.
“Sorry, but no gratice. You’d be unconscious or dead in the first few minutes, and I’d much rather carry her than you.” His face brightened. “Besides. They really just want what’s in your gut.” He pointed the bloody knife at my stomach. “And I can just cut that out of you, can’t I?”
This wasn’t going to work. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Rachel. Maybe if I kept him focused on me, it would give her time to escape into the tunnel. The Tree might protect her there, keep him from getting in at all. I just had to keep his attention on me and not look in her direction. Talk to him. Get him close maybe. I could feel my strength fading as icy cold slowly spread out from my stomach, but I wasn’t as weak as I was acting. Not yet, at least.
“You don’t have to do this. You’re me, right? Another me. Think about that. It’s like killing a brother. Or killing yourself. We’re the same.”
He snorted. “You think they didn’t prepare me for your begging? We’re not the same. They trained me. Changed…” The man glanced away, and for a moment he looked different—uncertain and haunted. “They changed me, I think.” He shook his head, dispelling the brief doubt that had clouded his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is surviving. Taking what’s mine. What you’ve stolen from me just by existing.” His smile widened. “You see, killing you will solve pretty much all of my proaaugh!”
I looked down to see Rachel, teeth gritted as she pulled a piece of metal free of his leg and slammed it again into his ankle. Howling, he turned toward her, kicking Rachel in the shoulder as he pinwheeled backward toward the wall next to me. I didn’t hesitate—reaching out as far as I could, I grabbed his good ankle and yanked hard, sending him to the concrete floor with a grunting whoosh of air.
I couldn’t waste any time now. My limbs all felt loose and spongey, the world swimming as I pushed myself up the wall to a shaky standing position. I looked at Rachel. She was in pain, but seemed okay. No time to check on her now. Forcing myself forward, I cradled my oozing stomach with one hand as I held out the other for balance. No time to go slow. I had to get it before it was too late.
The sledgehammer was where we had left it—propped against the inner wall of the secret bedroom. It barely moved when I tried to pick it up. It was almost impossibly heavy. But no. I could move it. I would. I had to. Taking my other hand away from my stomach, I gripped the hammer’s handle with both hands. It was slick with my blood now, but I could at least drag it out of the hole and toward that other version of me. He was already rolling over, trying to get to his feet again. Once he did, even with his hurt leg, I didn’t know if I could stop him.
In the moment between moments, I saw what I had to do. Thought slow so I could act fast. Gripping the handle tighter, I yanked the sledgehammer forward and up, using my whole body’s momentum even as my limbs began to go numb and my stomach felt like it was ripping wide. There was no time to think about aiming or worry about failing. I was doing what needed to be done, what would be done. It could be no other way.
The iron head of the hammer swung through its arc, and even when it stuck the back of the other Thomas’ head, it barely slowed. Instead it drove him back to the ground with a sickeningly wet crack that changed to a pulpier sound as his skull broke open on the floor. The vibration from the impact shook the hammer from my grip, but it didn’t matter. He was dead and Rachel was okay and…
I gasped as I hit the ground. What was…?
Rachel was over me now, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to find something to put on your stomach and find a phone and…”
I reached up and touched her face. “No. No time.”
Her eyes widened. “No, there is. I’ll be right back just…” She trailed off as she started to stand. I grabbed her arm with a hand that felt strangely disconnected. Everything was so odd now. I didn’t feel like I had a body, or if I did, it seemed far away. But my mind…I felt like I saw everything clearer. Like I could think more clearly than I ever had.
I distantly felt that stranger hand give her arm a weak squeeze.
“The tunnel. Get us into the tunnel.”
I felt numb as I helped Thomas into the tunnel. I’d never worried the wall wouldn’t open for us, and my fears of traveling down those neverending, glowing paths seemed a small thing now. Because everything was eclipsed by the stark terror that had seized my heart. It had begun when I saw the thickening stain at Thomas’s stomach, but it had taken firmer hold when I looked up into his face.
He was dying, and he knew it.
I didn’t have to question the logic of going into the tunnel. I already knew the tree had some ability to stave off hunger and aging, so the idea that it could choose to sustain or even heal someone wasn’t that big of a leap. Beyond that, Thomas had his intuitions, and whether it was from the thing those bastards had put in him or something else, I knew they couldn’t be discounted.
So we went into the tunnel, Thomas helping me as best as he could. He pushed himself along the ground as I pulled him, and once we were inside, I lifted his shirt to look at his wounds. God…that fucker had almost gutted him. Taking off my jacket, I pressed it gently but firmly against the wounds, trying to slow the flow of blood until the Tree could perform its miracle. If it would or could.
Thomas seemed to pass out for a minute, his breathing growing first rougher and then more even before he suddenly opened his eyes again. Giving me a weak smile, he nodded.
“It still hurts a lot, but it feels a bit better. See how it looks.”
Wincing, I peeled back the soaked jacket to look at his stomach. There wasn’t much fresh blood, but the wounds weren’t healing, and I could still see spots where bits of torn…insides, were visible. Swallowing, I met his eyes.
“It’s better, but not healed. I don’t know if it’s going to.” I glanced back toward the brick wall that had reformed after we’d entered the tunnel. “I think I should go get help. Maybe the tunnel can keep you going until I bring someone back.” Thomas was already shaking his head, and I frowned at him, my voice growing sharp. “Well, I’m not going to fucking let you die. You’re not going to fucking die.” The anger was gone as soon as it had come, taking my breath and composure with it. Tearing up, I shook my head. “We have to fix this.”
Thomas put a cool hand on my arm. “We will. We need to go deeper in. The thing in me is pulling me deeper in, and I trust it. Whatever its reasons, it doesn’t want me to die either.”
I took his hand and squeezed it. “Sweetie, I don’t think you can go any further. You’re going to tear open worse than you already are.”
He smiled again and returned the squeeze. “It’ll be okay. The Tree can’t fix me on its own I don’t think. But it’s trying to get us to where I can be helped.”
Puffing out a trembling breath, I glanced at his stomach before meeting his gaze again. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I think so, yeah.”
Thomas was stronger now, but still unsteady on his feet, and I could tell that every breath and step was growing more painful. We walked slowly, and I let him set the pace and path as we went. He never slowed or seemed unsure of which turns and branches to take, but I could tell that it was taking a toll on him. I’d periodically ask if he wanted to stop and rest, but he’d always just shake his head. I understood. We never said it, but we both knew he was running out of time.
When we turned a corner and saw a brick wall, I felt him relax a little. Glancing up at him, my chest tightened. He looked pale and waxy, his skin slick with sweat from our journey through the tunnels. Despite trying to sound calm, I could hear the tremble in my voice when I asked if this was it.
He nodded. “Yeah, I think it is.”
The wall dissolved as we walked forward into darkness. As soon as we crossed the threshold into what I assumed was another basement, Thomas began collapsing against me, the weight of him pulling us both down. I managed to slow his descent to the floor, easing him down onto the concrete floor. I didn’t have my phone, but after a moment of feeling in his pockets, I found Thomas’ and turned on its flashlight.
He was alive, but unconscious, and I could already see fresh blood welling from his stomach wounds again. Goddamnit, I should have had him wait in the tunnel. He wasn’t thinking straight, and now I had to drag him back in and hope it was enough and then…
No. I needed to calm down. I needed to trust him and trust myself to help him. There was still time.
Sucking in a shaking breath, I panned the light around the room. It was a version of the basement, though it was empty. No prison room or furniture or anything else.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Near where Thomas lay, I could see something scratched into the floor. A number.
71.
“Oh no. Fuck no.”
I felt a new wave of fear roll through me. I knew what this place was—a glowing cave with a rotting version of the Tree and something terrible lurking in the dark. Something that had spoke to me. Asked me something…what was it?
What do you offer as Tribute for your need, Traveler?
Suddenly everything snapped into place. It…It was offering a trade. And if it was still up there, maybe it was what could save Thomas. Whatever it took, whatever it wanted, I’d give it gladly if it would save him.
I leaned over and kissed him in the dark, whispering how much I loved him before standing and heading to the other room and the stairs. I could see the cold, blue light as I took the steps quickly, and by the time I stepped out the front door I was already shuddering from both the chill air and my own fear. But it was all right. I could do this. For him I could. My throat burned with the cold as I called out.
“I’m here! I…um, I want to offer tribute for my need!”
For several moments there was nothing. I looked around—the house was as I remembered it, though this version of the Tree looked even worse than before, as though the corruption at its roots had worked its poison through the trunk and was now spreading out to the branches beyond. On the far side of the massive cavern, I could see tunnels trailing off, and…wait, there. I thought I saw twin blue embers glowing in that distant black. I took a nervous step forward and was about to call again when a hand fell on my shoulder. Letting out a scream, I spun around even as I stumbled back.
It was a man. A man a bit bigger than Thomas, though leaner and much older. Holding up his hands placatingly, he offered me a tentative smile set in a hard, unreadable face.
“Didn’t mean to startle you. But you need to listen to me. You don’t want to deal with that thing out there.”
I frowned at him. “I…I don’t have a choice. My…Thomas is dying. I have to get him help.”
His face softened slightly. “What’s wrong with him?”
I swallowed. “He’s been stabbed. A lot.” I heard the fresh tremor in my voice as I pointed toward the house. “And he’s going to die in there if I don’t get him help. I was thinking maybe the thing that lives here could do it.”
His expression darkened for a moment and I felt a new thrill of fear. This…this wasn’t a normal man. I didn’t know if he was bad or not, but he had an aura of dangerousness that set me on edge. Studying me for a moment, he seemed to make a decision.
“Perhaps it could help, but you wouldn’t like the cost.” He hooked a thumb as the strap of the backpack he wore. “I have medical supplies in here. They were meant for someone else, but I don’t mind using some of them on your friend if you’ll let me.”
I glanced back out across the tunnel. The blue lights were brighter now. Maybe a bit closer. “I…I’d like that, but I’m telling you, a first aid kit isn’t going to cut it. He’s dying.”
His expression didn’t change as his eyes bored into me. “I understand. I still think I can help him.” Taking a step forward, he put out his hand. “My name is Patrick, and I’m a surgeon.”
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Credits
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