“Oh, whoa,” I sigh.
In the back of my mind, I recognize that Eddie is still out there. I also know the mob could probably halt or reverse our tram from below, although it might be hard to stop those massive gears without some technical understanding. Yes, there’s plenty that could still go wrong, but right now I’m so infinitely grateful for the things that have gone right. All this death and destruction has led me to the only place that matters: wherever my daughter is.
And—of course—I’m grateful for the subtle lighting that shrouds my mutilated face.
Faint, twinkling piano music drifts across my ears, immediately causing my body to tense up. It’s the opening chords to “A Star Like Me” by Eddie Michaels.Shit.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Marlo whispers, noticing the way my body has registered this sound. “They always play music.”
She’s right. I forgot that every trip up the mountainside comes with a one-or two-song accompaniment, usually a classic rock soundtrack to color the already spectacular view.
As we approach the first cable tower I can feel the floor shift under me, the weight of the tram swaying like a massive pendulum. The cables tighten and then release, heaving the vessel forward with enough momentum that Marlo and I are forced to break our grasp, reaching out and grabbing the nearby rails for balance.
At this point, we’ve rotated to face the steep cliffside, and as we swing back into position, I’m amazed at just how rugged the terrain really is. Immense crags and boulders have sprung up everywhere, the desert landscape quicklytransitioning into a thick Southern California forest. Huge pines are already reaching up from below, and their relative distance from our gondola only serves to show just how high we really are.
We settle again, enjoying the lull between towers as “A Star Like Me” finally kicks into gear with its crashing drums and a wall of triumphant guitars. Palm Springs and the surrounding desert are now fully visible, stretching out across a remarkably flat landscape in a blanket of beautiful twinkling lights. From up here, you can really see the way people cluster together, the way we find each other amid the nothingness.
You might say this desire for community is because—as living creatures on our vast, strange planet—we all need love.
You might also say it’s because we all need attention.
I close my eyes, regret flooding through me as I realize all this could’ve been avoided if I’d just taken my attention and pointed it somewhere that mattered. If I’d stopped focusing on what I thought Marlo needed and started focusing on Marloherself. Maybe Noah would still be alive. Maybe Marlo wouldn’t be in danger. Maybe, in this fictional other life, we could’ve moved somewhere far away and someothersibling would’ve been in tonight’s hot seat.
I’ve looted and desecrated and tarnished memories without a second thought, and I did this by wrapping myself in a flag of love. I said I’d do anything for my family, but I realize now that this was just an excuse. I thought I was helping Marlo for Marlo, but I was helping Marlo for me.
I’ll probably never live it down, but after tonight, at least I understand what I’ve done. Thanks to Eddie, I finally know what it’s like to be on the other side of someone stealing bodies they have no right to.
A sudden jolt snaps me back into focus, surprised that we’ve already reached the second tower. When I glance around, however, I discover that we’re still several yards out.
Through the gondola speakers, Eddie keeps crooning. “I know the road is long, but it’s the path I’m dancing on! Stars aren’t born, they’ve always been, that’s why I’m never really gone!”
I tilt my head up slightly, struggling to hear past the drone of the song and identify a few strange noises that rattle just beneath it. I’m not sure which clacks and scrapes are part of the gondola ride, or artifacts in the recording, or something more.
I hold my breath, listening.
Suddenly, Marlo is ripped from my arms, flying toward the wall of the gondola and slamming against it. She lets out a startled yelp as her body slides up the metal, pulled toward the window by one of Eddie’s barbed tentacles.
I lunge toward Marlo, grabbing her arm with one hand and struggling to aim my shotgun with the other. From this new angle I can see Eddie’s giant insectoid form perched atop the roof, leaning slightly over the edge as he slips his tentacle through one of the half-open windows. Marlo shrieks and struggles against the pull of this mighty appendage, held halfway up the wall with her back pressed against the slit. Her body is pulled so tight that it’s already cracking the glass and bending the metal bars.
I realize almost immediately that I don’t have the physical strength to pull Marlo back in, but Idohave a very useful tool. I let go of Marlo’s arm and hoist the shotgun with both hands, lifting it high enough so that she won’t be close to the barrel when it goes off. Instead of aiming for the barbed pad of Eddie’s strange tendril, I point halfway up the appendage, pressing my weapon against the window and pulling the trigger.
There’s enough force from the blast to propel our gondola back slightly, glass erupting outward as a brilliant flash illuminates the tramcar in a sparkling plume. The sound isn’t quite as loud as I remember, but that’s probably because my ears are still recovering from the first two shots.
Eddie’s tentacle retracts, momentarily releasing its grip on Marlo and sending her tumbling to the gondola’s slowly rotating floor. He immediately snaps his barbed pad in our direction, but I’ve already grabbed Marlo by the shirt and tugged her away.
Plenty of horrific things have just occurred, but the one that imprints itself on my brain is just how unfazed Eddie seems after that point-blank shotgun blast. He pulls his limb away out of annoyance rather than pain.
I move Marlo into the absolute center of the tramcar, my head on a swivel as I hunt for any sign of Eddie’s next approach. From here, his lashing appendages aren’t quite long enough to reach us without him climbing down onto the glass.
Unfortunately, there’s also a larger opening to consider—the shattered window now treating us to evenmore night air—but Eddie won’t come through there. The direct approach is too obvious, especially when I have two shells left. We seem to think the same way—like father, like daughter—and if that’s the case, he probably realizes whatI’vejust realized.
A direct hit against Eddie’s abdomen might not wound him, but the propulsioncouldsend him plummeting into the forest below.
The clackity hammering of spiked legs on metal rings out as Eddie scampers across the roof, skittering back and forth. I struggle to follow his position. With all of this movement, along with the blaring chorus of “A Star Like Me,” it’s hard to tell where he’s at, and as we cross the second tower and receive a new kick of inertia, any attempt at tracking him only becomes more difficult.
A suddenwhapagainst the opposite side of the car draws my attention, and I flinch as a cloud of spangled glass tumbles inward and scatters across the floor. I’m not sure what exactly caused this break, but my question is answered as Eddie’s tentacle whips over the edge to bust out a third window, then a fourth.
A rattling chortle erupts from somewhere above us, the second time I’ve heard this bizarre, otherworldly laughter. “Hell of a finale, sport!” Eddie calls out over the music. “I can’t say you didn’t entertain me.”
