Half Way Home

• 21 • Falling Star

The last vinnie squeezed past my shins and a cluster of my friends followed, pushing, shoving, and falling down. A few tried crawling over the back of the last vinnie, which was moving in reverse and at a brisk pace. I heard one of the guys yelling for us to run, but there was no place to run to and no sign of danger. I peered up where the dark gray of dusk faded to black in the tunnel’s depths. The curvature of the massive tree was so slight, we normally could see a good distance ahead. Now we just saw a hollow void made indiscernible and frightening by the shaking of the tree and the roar of something destructive.

Beside me, Karl cursed and grabbed my arm. That’s when I saw it as well: a wall of blackness drawing near—something coming for us, its bulk filling the entire width of the tunnel.

The three of us ran after the others, tripping over people as we went. I tried to keep in touch with Tarsi, but I had no idea who I was holding. As the tree moved beneath our feet, we took turns falling, helping each other up, and fighting the urge to look over our shoulders.

I didn’t need to. I could hear it drawing near, the sound of splitting wood accompanying its approach.

“Over the side!” one of the girls shrieked, and at first I thought she meant someone had fallen or had been shoved out through one of the regular openings in the tunnel. Then I felt the person next to me stop scrambling and move up the outer curve and out into the night air. There were less of us running and crawling, and the thing kept getting closer, the splintering noise so loud I could barely hear everyone else yelling and screaming.

I groped for Tarsi and felt someone move out through the next opening. As soon as I realized what they were doing, I knew it was our only choice.

“Hold the edge!” I yelled to the person beside me. We stumbled past the next cog together, moving from pitch blackness to the thick gray of one of the openings. We both crawled over the edge. My feet scratched at the rough bark as I lowered myself, allowing my armpits to catch on the sharp lip of the tunnel where its curve rose up and met the air. With my head still in the cylinder, I looked over and saw the loud darkness upon us—a wall of moving black and shivering power. I popped my elbows free of the edge and fell a foot before the tunnel’s sharp lip bit into my fingers. I dangled there, my legs kicking above two thousand feet of nothingness.

Something rough brushed across my knuckles, nearly knocking my hands loose. Then the body went past, the large bristles poking out of the tunnel as a vinnie the size of the hole—or bigger, judging by the sound of crushed wood—tore past. Up and down my chest, I could feel the tree quaking. With the vibrations and the pressure on my fingers, maintaining my grip felt impossible. It was too much to ask of my body.

Still, I managed to yell encouragement to my neighbor. “Hold on!” I told them, hoping my urgency would provide strength, even if my words held no advice beyond the obvious.

A deep voice shouted something back, the voice of a male.

My heart sank and my stomach lurched, the two organs colliding within me as my guts reacted to the confusion in my head. I wanted Tarsi to be out there with me—was glad she wasn’t—but wondered if she was someplace worse. I ground my teeth together and rested my head against the rough bark, feeling it scratch my forehead as it continued to shake.

After a seeming mile of quivering beast passed by, I flexed my arms to scramble up, then heard another coming. I relaxed, allowing my weight to dangle from my joints rather than my muscles, and thought about what the fall would be like. I pictured the tumbling descent, my body bouncing between the walls of the juts and hitting the moss far below. I thought about my existence winking out and being no more, ever again.

Bristles pushed against my hand and a bombfruit whistled nearby. The guy beside me kept cursing loudly, but I had no encouragement within me to loan him. Then, the shaking of the tree stopped, leaving just the rumble of the large vinnie. I felt the numbness in my joints go away and realized much of it had been from the vibrations. If that was the last of the beasts, I could make it up. We could survive this.

As the final bristles passed, I tried pulling myself up, preferring that I be swallowed or crushed by the next vinnie rather than fall to my death. Pressing my feet against the bark—one foot on the outcropping to my side—I made it up to my armpits, where I took a break, my hands clasped together and my elbows spread wide. The guy beside me did the same, our legs brushing together as we both fought for purchase.

In the downward distance, the rumbles from the large vinnies receded and no new ones grew to take their place. I felt a nervous laughter creep up inside, the exhaustion and mania of near-death popping in my brain like tiny bubbles. The person beside me started before I could, wheezing and laughing—

Then someone screamed.

A high voice. A girl’s voice. It pierced the growing quiet like a sharp dagger through a healing wound. It was a shriek as loud as any I’d ever heard, but then it sickeningly—horribly—began receding into the distance. Growing silent.

Falling away.