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Chapter eleven: Eurydice Returns
The truck sped through the dimly lit streets, careening dangerously around corners. Fred gripped the front of the seat, tensely watching the road. "Lindsey, watch out! There are people!"
Lindsey only pressed down further on the accelerator, a boyish sort of grin on his face. "Ten points for the old lady."
"Lindsey!"
"What? They're dead," he reminded her. "I'm sure that being run over by a truck is the least of their worries."
Fred remained silent, tightening her grip on the seat. She suddenly realized why Lindsey had such an aversion to cops; he'd obviously had many, many driving infractions.
"Do you even have any idea where we're going?" Fred inquired as Lindsey purposefully veered out of the way to hit a man on the side of the road.
"I saw this place once when I was out salvaging for scrap metal," Lindsey informed her, "this...door, out in the middle of nowhere. Just a door. I tried to get close to it, but it threw me backward. Burned the hell out of me. I still have the mark."
Fred felt a surge of hope. "And you think this door is the portal?"
Lindsey shook his head wryly. "It better be, 'cuz otherwise we're screwed..."
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Wesley walked slowly down the dimly lit street, careful not to move too fast so that Fred could keep up with him. It was taking all of his self-reserve not to glance back and look at her. In the moment he had touched her hand during the test, it had felt so right; he had been certain it was Fred. But now he was plagued with doubts. What if he had been wrong? What if he got to Heaven and realized that he'd lost Fred forever?
But he couldn't allow himself to think that way. It was her; it had to be.
"I know you can't answer me," Wesley said after a moment, "but I don't think I can stand the quiet anymore. I don't know how you survived in this place for so long."
He glanced up and down the street. There were people lining the sidewalks, motionless, watching them. They remained completely stationary as Wesley and Fred passed. Wesley guessed that the Mayor was somehow keeping them back. He was glad for it; the thought of their cold, clammy skin touching him was almost too much to bear.
As he thought of this, he remembered that Fred's skin had still contained some warmth when he touched her during the test. "Someone was taking care of you, weren't they?" he realized aloud. "An old friend, perhaps? Well, whoever they are, I'm eternally grateful."
They continued walking down the road in silence. The Mayor had promised Wesley that he would recognize the portal when he saw it. As they rounded the corner, Wesley knew with a certainty that the Mayor hadn't been exaggerating. It loomed before him, a large door, massive in splendor, completely solitary in the darkness.
"Well," he said, "this is it."
He moved forward toward the door, but suddenly there was a screeching of tires and a large truck was blocking him from the door. Wesley felt a surge of fear and reached behind him to make certain Fred was still there; his hand brushed against an arm and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Don't worry," he said with more courage than he felt, "I won't let them take you."
The driver's door swung open and a man stepped out into the headlights. It took Wesley a moment to recognize him as Lindsey. He frowned, taken aback. "Lindsey? What on Earth are you doing here?"
"No time to explain," Lindsey returned briskly. "But you're gonna have to trust me. That isn't Fred, it's Lilah."
Wesley felt the old doubt surfacing once again. He kept his face impassive. "Why should I trust you? We aren't friends."
"No, we aren't," Lindsey agreed, "but Fred and I became friends down here. Trust me, that isn't her."
Was it possible? Wesley had never been able to read Lindsey. At times, he seemed almost sincere in his efforts to do good, and at others...
"I touched Fred's hand," Wesley countered, "I recognized her."
Lindsey shook his head. "That was Fred, but the Mayor switched her with Lilah. Please, Wesley, you have to believe me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I'm telling you the truth. I have nothing to gain by lying to you."
Wesley had never felt more confused. "But how do I know that?" he inquired. "How do I know that you didn't make a deal with the Mayor– keep me from rescuing Fred, and you get to go to Heaven?"
Lindsey looked desperate now. "Listen, Fred is right here in the truck. She can't come out because we don't know what will happen if you see her before going through the door– the Mayor may count that against all of us. Please, you have to trust me."
Wesley squinted, looking into the window. It was too dark to really see anything, but he could barely make out the outline of a person sitting in the passenger seat. His heart jumped into his chest. This was all too confusing. He couldn't come this far and then lose her again.
He stepped up tentatively to the truck, reaching out his hand and placing it up against the window. "Fred...?"
"No!!!"
Recognizing Lilah's voice, Wesley started to turn. "Don't look at her!" Lindsey reminded him anxiously. Wesley jerked back, pressing his eyes shut.
"Lilah," he whispered, the anger mounting inside of him. "You were going to trick me? You were going to let me take you in her place?"
"It's my place!" Lilah screamed. "Mine! I won't stay here!"
"Fred is right here in the truck," Lindsey shouted, his voice rising above Lilah's screams, "it isn't too late to take her instead!"
"You don't know that that's really Fred!" Lilah insisted. "It could be someone else, someone far worse than me, Wesley. At least with me you'll know who you're taking to the other side."
Wesley felt the blood rushing to his head. This was too much– it was all too much.
And then there was a third voice joining the mix. "Come on, Wesley," the Mayor taunted, "I can't keep the portal open all day. Who's it gonna be? Our girl Lilah, or mystery girl behind the door? Can you really trust Lindsey?"
Wesley was silent, pondering. And then slowly, deliberately, he reached out and opened the door to the truck, careful to keep his head turned the other way. He reached out a hand to whoever was inside and felt another hand grasp it; but it was too cold by now to tell much from the touch.
Slowly, they walked toward the door, each step seeming like a mile, each heartbeat seeming like a thunderclap, until the doorknob was only a few inches away. Wesley hesitated only momentarily before reaching forward and pushing open the door.
And then they walked through together.