Buried in Sunshine (24 page)

“Maybe a different channel,” Justine says as she
swiftly gets to her feet and changes the channel to a talk show.
“So what is our next move—what are we doing tomorrow?”

“I have to find Alexis—one of my clones…is that
what I should even call them? I don’t even know.”

“Sounds kind of accurate,” Justine says as she
sits back down on the couch. “I mean they look like you, they kind
of talk like you. Do they act like you?”

“Not really,” Emma says as she reflects back on
each personality. Elizabeth is the more innocent, kinder one—the
meek one. Hope is the typical child, or at least, how she remembers
herself as a child. Alexis…she is a whole other creature unto
herself. A vengeful version of Emma, one who plots and plans—has
somewhat of a dark streak. “They’re all different, not all in good
ways either.”

“I would guess that a clone would be just like
you,” Justine says as she shrugs. “If I had other versions of me
running around, I wouldn’t know what to call them—anyway, where
should we look for this one? Back to the house…?”

“I think I have to go alone,” Emma says. “Alexis
can be…violent.”

“All the reason why you shouldn’t go alone,”
Justine protests.

“I can defend myself against her though,” Emma
says. “You saw how I got Elizabeth back—I can do things, I think… I
haven’t really given it a try, but I have some kind of power.”

“I’ve got a metal baseball bat I keep by the
door…” Justine adds as she points to an umbrella holder in the
corner.

“I think if I go alone, she won’t feel as
threatened.”

“Well, keep in touch with me by phone,” Justine
concedes as she nods. “If anything at all goes wrong, call me right
away. Do you know where you are headed?”

“There’s a cemetery past my house on Old Pine
Hollow Road, I have a feeling I’ll find her there tomorrow. I’ll
call you and let you know for sure once I get there,” Emma says as
she begins to realize that there isn’t much left for Alexis to
do—if she’s basing her actions now on anger then there is only one
person to really be angry at, their mother.

“I’ve been there,” Justine adds. “Back when I
was like nineteen we used to go drinking out there, cops never
busted up parties out there.”

“My mother is buried there.”

“I’m sorry…” Justine says as she gets a look
upon her face as though she just stepped in dog shit. “We were
never disrespectful.”

“It is fine,” Emma says as she laughs. “Believe
me; I have no great love for my mother at this time.”

“So you think she’s angry and going to be
there?” Justine asks, as she thinks on the topic. “Doing what?”

“I have no idea,” Emma replies as she folds her
arms around her. “When your whole purpose is anger and revenge and
you have no one left to take it out on—what are you left with?”

“I suppose she could like, pee on the grave?”
Justine adds. “Or do they not pee, since they don’t eat or drink—I
guess peeing would be unnecessary.”

“I have no clue,” Emma says as she flashes a
strange look to Emma. “I just have a feeling—and I picked up the
feeling from Elizabeth that I should be looking there. So, since I
have nothing better to go off of—“

“Cemetery it is,” Justine says as she stretches
her arms out and lets out another long yawn. “Well, just remember
to keep in contact with me—constantly. I don’t want you passing out
where I can’t be of any help.”

“Alright, I will.”

“Well I’m headed to bed,” Justine adds. “Is
there anything you need from me?”

“I should be okay,” Emma says as she smiles.
“Goodnight Justine.”

“Goodnight Em,” Justine adds as she heads into
her room. “Do you mind if I call you Em?”

“I don’t see why I would mind.”

“Good,” Justine says as she begins to shut the
door. “I like it.”

Emma shakes her head. Although Justine is a
rather unusual character, she is very appreciative of her company.
After all Justine has been through, Emma is surprised with how well
and calmly she handles all these odd situations that are suddenly
thrown into her life. She just hopes that her presence in Justine’s
life does not ultimately cause her pain.

Emma gets up from the chair and heads to her
makeshift bed in the studio room. She plops down on the air
mattress and begins to stare up at the ceiling. The ceiling has
that strange oatmeal texture that Emma has never quite understood
the purpose for its existence. It only takes her a few minutes
until she spots a few locations look vaguely like a sailing boat,
rabbit eating a carrot (or penis), and a woman eating her own arms.
The last of which kind of terrifies her a bit, so she avoids that
spot. Her thoughts drift to Ethan as her eyes grow heavy. Was she
wrong to turn him away? In her heart, things just didn’t feel
right. She hoped that if everything turned out okay that it would
pass. At least he was still a friend, at least—she hoped he still
was.

Day 5

Chapter 6: Pain

Emma finds herself in front of the broken
opening to the dark hallway. Although she knows that something
terrible is going to happen—she is thankful that she is not seeing
Alexis’s actions while she was out. Emma beings to walk down the
hallway, just as she has done so many times before, she knows the
routine. It is already hot, her bare feet burn in agony against the
searing concrete. She quickens her pace to keep her feet off the
floor as much as possible. The familiar grumble of rusty gears and
tearing comes from behind her—making sure that she will not turn
back from her course. As if she needed more motivation, the hands
appear and attempt to grab a hold of her. Then the screaming comes,
the maddening, ugly screaming.

As Emma reaches the stairs up to the greenhouse
the rumbling noise subsides. “Alright, you’ve led me here…” Emma
says as she begins to ascend the staircase. “You’re always in
charge.”

As she reaches the top her eye adjust to the
bright light above her. The greenhouse is in perfect condition—just
like it was when she and Hope saw it. The only difference is that
the bed has been pulled and turned on its side. In is spot, a giant
hole in the concrete has been jack-hammered away revealing the soft
earth beneath it. A shovel sits in a shallow grave.

Emma quickly hides as she hears a noise from the
bottom of the stairs. She spots the head of both her mother and
Brian Metcalfe, as they ascend the stairs backwards Emma sees that
they are dragging a body.

“You knew…” Emma whispers, this sight confirms
her suspicions.

A silver knife protrudes from the body of her
stepfather.

“The concrete is ready,” Brian Metcalfe says as
they lower his body into the shallow grave. “I just have to
wheelbarrow it in.”

“This is never going to work—“Sarah Langford
says as she shakes her head and begins to cry. “They’re going to
figure out what happened.”

“Stay calm,” Brian says as he places his hands
around hers. “We will wait a few days and send his boat out early
in the morning—you’ll report him missing that evening when he does
not return. A lot of people disappear on the lake.”

“The knife…” Sarah says as she points to the
elaborate silver knife that shines brightly in the sunlight. “We
can’t just leave it.”

“We should bury him with it,” Brian says as he
begins to head out.

“Take it out,” Sarah objects.

“We really should leave it…”

“Please, just take it out and put it back where
it was—just wipe it down.” Sarah says as she is on the verge of
tears once more. “I just can’t live with the idea of it inside of
him…it’s too cruel.”

“Alright,” Brian says as he reluctantly reaches
down and grabs a hold of the blade. He looks away and pulls the
knife from the man’s stomach. He holds it away from him and begins
to cough and gag at the sight of the blood.

Emma creeps out from her spot. “Mom…”

When no reply is returned, Emma realizes that
just like before—she cannot be seen or heard. “Was it you?”

Brian returns with a wheelbarrow and begins to
shovel it into the grave on the greenhouse floor. The man’s face
looks up to the sun blankly. His mouth is agape, and his eyes
unblinkingly look directly into the sunlight. “I’m sorry…” Brian
whispers.

Emma watches as a shovel full of concrete covers
the man’s face.

Emma can watch no further. She knows that she is
meant to. However, she is tired of playing by these rules. She
begins to walk down the stairs as the low strange grumble begins to
echo through the hallway. Her feet burn, she pushes her way through
burnt hands as she attempts to make her way back to the
entrance.

“Who did it!?” Emma shouts as she ignores the
burning of her skin and continues to endure like a salmon swimming
upstream. “Was it my mother? What do you want from me?”

The melanic arms continue to reach out from the
soot black walls. Emma begins to push back, kicking her way past
limb after limb as screams echo in response to her every action.
Her feet are aching, her movement is slow—but she continues onward.
“You want me—you’re coming for me. At least show yourself. Take me!
Why wait?”

“I’m fucking tired of this!” Emma shouts down
the hallway. “Stop…!”

In response to her command the arms retreat. The
floor beneath her feet stops burning and like water, it recedes
into cracks along the surface of the old hallway floor. The
grinding noise quiets until silence is all that remains. A
brilliant light can be seen at the end of the hallway. Emma
continues onward. Her resolve is as strong as steel.

As Emma reaches the blinding ball of shimmering
light, she reaches her hands into the ethereal glimmer. The light
is not hot, nor cold—she pauses as she watches in fascination as
the light glimmers across her hand and travels up her arm,
disappearing beneath her skin. Her long wheat blonde hair begins to
stand up as strands reach to the air; a metallic hum reverberates
through the air as takes a deep breath of air in and steps into the
light. As she enters the sanctum of light, she comes face to face
with a strange figure. Like a statue, a version of Emma stands in
place. She wears a golden mask that covers the top half of her
face; the mask is covered in amber colored stones and spikes stray
from the semi-circular form. Lines of glowing silver paint spread
out like flames against the black eyeliner of the mask’s eye holes.
The girl has a strange grin on her face. Apart from the strange
mask, she is complete nude.

“Speak.” Emma commands the same way that one
would to an obedient dog.

The girl remains motionless, her eyes looking
ever forward and her expression unchanging.

“Move…Return…” Emma says in an attempt to get
the strange version of her to re-animate. “Do…something.”

Emma grows frustrated that she has no power to
make this apparition come alive. She reaches for the mask and
slowly begins to pull it away from the girl’s face. Another mask,
one made of silver with elaborate roses and black line work is
revealed. Emma tosses the sun mask to the ground and places her
hands on the silver mask—she pulls away, revealing a smaller black
mask with tears of blood that have been painted beneath the
eyes.

“Who are you?” Emma asks as she allows the
silver mask to fall to the floor.

Emma reaches out to place her hands upon the
black mask but recoils as her fingertips come in contact with
it—her hands begin to burn out in pain. Her skin turns from tan to
a terrible sickly red. Emma looks to her hands in horror as they
begin to blacken. She lets out a scream of pain as the blackness
travels up her arms. Emma falls to the floor as the burning
sensation reaches her body. Like a poison it courses throughout her
body, destroying her flesh and turning into ash. Her mind is set
ablaze as she loses her form completely. The girl watches blankly,
the same strange grin rests upon her face as Emma loses
consciousness.

Emma awakens to the sound of laughter. She
stares up for a moment at the oatmeal ceiling. For a moment her
mind forms the image of a mask in a cluster against the far corner
of the wall. What does it mean? Who was that other version of
her—the one that was chasing her in her nightmares? Perhaps it was
an even stronger version—stronger than all the ones she knows,
including herself, combined. Could this girl have been the one that
everyone refers to as the sun? It would make more sense, as the sun
does not seem to be growing any closer—the news reported that there
was a severe heat-wave and drought, not that the sun was on a
collision course with the Earth, or course that bit of news would
probably cause widespread panic.

Emma gets out of bed as her bones creak, she
still feels tired—she feels old beyond her age. Emma climbs into
the white dress with the yellow hibiscus flowers upon them and
looks into the small mirror next to the dresser in the studio. She
attempts to fix her hair with her hands—she is need of a shower,
however, today she does not feel that there will be enough time.
After all, today she has to find Alexis. Emma enters Justine’s
living room to find her and Hope spending time on the floor,
painting and laughing.

“You’re up,” Justine says as she sets her brush
down into a plastic cup full of water. “I tried to wake you up
earlier, but you were either really tired or really into a dream
you were having.”

“What time is it?” Emma asks as she rubs her
still tired eyes.

“A little after one,” Justine says as she nods.
“It’s okay though—you probably needed the rest. Besides, I’ve had
Hope here to keep me company.”

“I need to get out to the cemetery,” Emma says
as she picks up her purse from a nearby table.

“I made some grilled cheese sandwiches,” Justine
says as she heads to the kitchen. “You should have something to eat
before you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Emma says as she begins to head
out. “Thank you.”