Into This River I Drown by TJ Klune Page A

steps, three—
    I crash into something amazingly solid, knocking me off my feet and onto my back. My head raps against the ground and there’s a bright flash. I groan and reach up to hold the back of my head.
    A deep chuckle from above me. I open one eye in a half squint.
    The man from the crater stands above me, peering down at me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. His head is turned slightly to the left, his dark eyes appearing black in the moonlight that is poking through the clouds. He’s grinning, showing strong teeth, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to eat me alive. Then he speaks and turns my world upside down.
    “Benjamin Edward Green,” he says, his voice flowing over me like warm water. He sounds absurdly happy and this causes my stomach to twist in knots. “Twenty-one years of age. Born February 17, 1991 under an amethyst moon at 2:32 in the morning. Parents are Lola Ann Green and Edward Benjamin Green.” As he says my father’s name, a brief shadow crosses his eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure it’s there. I can’t be sure any of this is happening. “Grandparents are Gerald and Linda Green and Mark and Sarah Fisette.” He stops and watches me.
    “Uh.” That’s all I can say because my mind has begun to fracture a bit. As much as I don’t believe it to be so, as much as the last twenty-four hours has been surreal ( Oh, it goes back further than that, I think, detached), I can’t ignore the man standing above me. I can’t ignore his voice, that voice that I refuse to believe is familiar, but know to be so. It comes from some far-off place, like it’s a dream—
    you shouldn’t be here
    —that I can’t be sure I’ve woken up from. He’s still watching me, waiting for some kind of response, but I’m somehow at the river in my dream, still feeling his arm wrapped protectively around my chest, his massive body pressing against my back—
    you will drown
    —like I need to be saved, like I’m precious and need to be held. My eyes begin to burn because—
    i cannot allow that to happen
    —part of me doesn’t want this to be a dream. Some small, secret part of me wants this to be real, to have him standing above me and be real because it would mean I am not alone anymore, that even though I’m pretty sure he’s going to kill me, I wouldn’t be alone . My thoughts are suddenly getting muddy, a light haze falling over my vision. Too much , I think. This is all too much .
    He leans over and his grin widens. So many teeth. “Benji,” he says, and he sounds so fucking happy that I ache down to my bones, causing me to shudder. He reaches out and touches my right hand, a look of wonder on his face, his dark eyes flashing. I follow his gaze and see the feather still in my hand, bent oddly and ruffled, but still there, somehow.
    He looks about to speak again, but then he snaps his head up as he rises quickly, staring off to the west toward Roseland as if he’s been spooked, like he hears something I cannot. I half expect his ears to twitch and stand up away from his head. He’s tense now, his shoulders stiff. I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I don’t dare. That sharklike grin is gone, replaced by a growing scowl.
    “What is it?” I hear myself ask hoarsely as my vision begins to tunnel. “What’s wrong?”
    “Others,” he snaps, his ire evident on his face. “They’re coming. I can see their threads. It’s time to leave.”
    “I’m tired,” I say quietly, and my voice sounds so far away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can make it back across.” I close my eyes and start to fall.
    Before I’m gone completely, I feel strong arms gather me up, clutching me tightly. As I’m swallowed by the dark, I hear a voice that says, “I will take you safely across the river.” And it follows me down until I’m gone.
     
     
    In the dark, this is what I hear:
    Big Eddie says, “By the time we finish, it’ll be so cherry. You just wait and see,