Deadwood

“You go first,” I whispered, nudging him a little in the ribs with my elbow.

He scowled in response. “Why me?”

“Because you’re a guy and you can protect me if something goes wrong.” I stated matter-of-factly.

“Great,” He muttered. “I always dreamed of being a human shield.”

Clinging tightly to his left arm, I followed him closely up to the porch. It was sagging and looked rotten in some places. It went without saying that we had to be extremely careful; it looked like it could give out at any moment and take us with. So we stepped gingerly on sturdier looking boards and stopped again at the front doors, not moving. “Well, go on.” I said, staring at the door.

“Do I ring the doorbell or knock?” He tried to joke, but I just rolled my eyes at him.

Oliver reached a shaky hand out and wrapped it around the tarnished silver doorknob. It was all so suspenseful, I almost couldn’t look. But no matter which way he twisted or turned, the door wouldn’t budge. “That was anti-climatic.” He said dryly.

“Here, let me try,” I said, pushing past him.

I don’t know why I thought I could get the door open when he couldn’t; it was pretty obvious he was a lot stronger than me. But for whatever reason, the door opened without an resistance almost as soon as I touched the knob. “Okay, that was really creepy,” I whispered, hand still outstretched though the door was open.

Now Oliver was standing close behind me. I heard him swallow hard. “Are we going in or what? The sooner we find whatever it is you hope to find, the sooner we can get out of here.” He said quietly in my ear.

So we ventured forward, sticking close. Surprisingly there was still furniture and everything. I would have thought new owners would have gotten rid of it, or looters would have taken stuff. But everything was eerily there, though looking the worse for wear.

Wallpaper was peeling and what once have been very fine rugs were unraveled and dusty. There was rickety looking staircase that must have led to the second floor. “I want to check the upstairs out,” I said.

Oliver took one look at the stairs and shook his head. “No way. Those stairs look like they’d give if a fly so much as landed on them.”

But something was pulling me up there. “Well I’m going.” I insisted, putting a hand on the railing and starting up.

He tried to protest, but realized it was futile when I just ignored him. “Don’t hesitate to call out if something happens,” He said, resigned. “I’ll be down here, checking everything out, I guess.”

I merely nodded at him, concentrating on not dying. The stairs were in better shape than they appeared. There were just a few spots that were rotten, and being small it was easy for me to move around them. I came to an abrupt stop at the end of the stairs, eyes wide and mouth gaping. It was now obvious that my dream had been much more than a dream, for I was staring at the very hallway Alice had crept down to meet her Thomas.

Of course, it looked a little different now from years of abandonment. But I realized that no one had moved in, or at least touched the décor, since the Quinns had lived here. I started moving down the hallway, checking the rooms. It was a little unsettling, walking in the footsteps of Alice.

I found her room after a few tries. It looked like it had been very girly. The lace curtains were yellowed with age and very tattered. The old four poster bed was covered in cobwebs and dust. The quilt laying on it looked like it might disintegrate if you breathed on it.

I moved into the room carefully, still watching my step. I caught my breath when I noticed a gleam from one darkened corner. Upon further inspection, it turned out to be a mirror. “What is it with mirrors?” I mumbled to myself, sort of afraid to inspect it too closely.

Thomas had said he’d be waiting in her (my?) old room. So here I was, and here was a mirror. Would he be in the mirror, or manifest in the room itself? I looked around uneasily. His voice startled the hell out of me.

“You came.” The smile in his voice was obvious.

Reluctantly I turned back to the mirror. Sure enough, the figure was there. I shrugged, trying not to let fear show. Could ghosts smell fear? I might have to look that up. “Yeah, of course. I was curious. But I’m telling you, I’m not your Alice. There’s no way.”

I could sense he was laughing at me, and I was a little hurt. Even if he was just a ghost. “If you don’t believe me, open the top drawer of the dresser. There is a picture inside I think you’d be interested in seeing.”

Now what did that mean? I moved over to the dresser, looking warily at the drawer for a moment before prying it open. There were various papers and photographs laying in there, but I immediately knew which one he meant. It was laying right on top, and it was so obvious.

I picked it up with shaky hands, staring at the picture. Turning it over, I read the writing on the back. Flipping it back over, I felt the color drain from my face. Alice Quinn and I could have been twins. I felt like I was staring at my own reflection.

“So you see,” Thomas was speaking again. “Even more proof that you’re my dear Alice. What say you to that, love?”

“I say,” I began, my voice low and shaky. “That this summer got really, really weird.”

Again I felt laughter. “You always did have a good sense of humor. One of the many things I admired in you.”

With a wince, I turned back to the shadowy figure in the mirror. “Look, Thomas. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, I really don’t. You’ve been through hell and back.” I paused, hoping that wasn’t literally true. “But I…I’m not yours. I don’t remember you. And I sort of, well, I have feelings for someone else.”

Now anger seemed to flow forth from the figure. “It’s him, isn’t it?” He hissed. “I almost didn’t show myself because you brought him with you. How could you allow such a disgrace of a human being come with you? Is it not bad enough that we have been separated for years? Must you really throw your love to him? He’ll only hurt you, Alice. You know that’s all he’s capable of.”

It was my turn to be angry. “Oliver is a kind person.” I bit out. “And I trust him a hell of a lot more than you, especially right now. How dare you talk about my friend like that.”

“Alice, please. You know these things I speak are the truth.” Now Thomas just sounded frustrated. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

I turned my back on the mirror. “You don’t even know him. And now I’m leaving. I don’t want to speak to you right now, maybe not ever again.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I know him! As do you, if you’d only look deeper. Alice, don’t go, not yet. We’ve been robbed of our time together. Don’t cut it even shorter.” He was pleading with me now.

“Sorry, Thomas. But you’re wrong, I know it.” I quickly made my way to the door and turned back one last time. “Good-bye.”

I could hear a faint hiss of rage, and I retreated out of there a little faster than I had planned. His anger was absolutely startling. It seemed to be the exact opposite of the Thomas from my dream; a kind, gentle man who only had a heart full of love for his beloved Alice.

And what had he meant, saying those things about Oliver? Thomas couldn’t possibly know him. It wasn’t making any sense. Lost deep in thought, I almost ran straight into Oliver as I came off the last stair and turned a corner. “Whoa, you startled me,” He said, clutching his chest.

I must have had a strange look on my face, because he knit his eyebrows and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? What happened up there?”

I didn’t answer; I couldn’t. I don’t know if it was seeing Oliver that had done it, or him touching me. But a realization came to me; I had thought of one possible way for Thomas to know Oliver. And his rage made sense when I put it all together.

Maybe I was Alice. And maybe, just maybe Oliver wasn’t just Oliver.