I don't know why she chose to confide in me. By that time most of the area was abandoned. People were moving into the cities or out into the farmlands, and the suburbs, those symbols of the world that was still choking on it own blood, were getting like ghost towns. She might have confided in me just because we were among the few who didn't want to leave.
She came up to me and whispered, "I can do what He does." She looked terrified. She hadn't slept. She was unhealthily thin. I took her to my apartment, turned on every light in a vain attempt to minimize shadows, and asked her what she meant.
She said it again, a little more confidently. "I can do what He does." And then she tipped a lamp so it cast a big shadow on the wall, and she gestured at it. And it Opened.
Of course I'd seen the Between. It's not uncommon for shadows to open seemingly at random, and for Them to glance out, looking for insurrection. But to see it so close was terrifying. The Between isn't empty. It isn't silent. They are in there, and the Between is Their home, Their hive, Their nest.
But as terrifying as it was, I was elated. Maybe she could help us fight back! Maybe she could turn the tables. And if she could do it, maybe there were others!
I turned away, wanting to get my glasses, to look at her, to watch her do it again, maybe. I don't know. It's moot. When I turned around, she was gone. One of her shoes hung half in, half out of the open shadow on my wall. And then it closed, and the shoe was cut neatly in half, and she was gone. She never made a sound. I didn't hear Them take her.
She thought she could do what He does. She was only half right. She could Open the shadows, yes, but as it turns out, that's only the first step. Once you're in the Between, you need a way to deal with Them. For whatever reason, He can control Them. The rest of us just have try and find a safe passage through the Between.
Those of us that are stupid enough to go there at all, that is.
curse the darkness