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I try to find Elissa again. I spot her a little further down the slope.
How much of ourselves we shared, that week beneath the Memory Wood. How much I feel I learned. I know she never really trusted me. Even just now, when I grabbed her in the tool shed before explaining my plan. But I can hardly fault her for that.
The van’s starter motor mewls like it’s in mourning. Drained of life, the battery doesn’t have enough power to crank the pistons, but the starter keeps on winding.
I know it’s Annie behind the wheel. From the punishment she’s giving the engine, she must be really pissed off. Limping over to the passenger door, I swing it open.
II
Her head snaps around. When our eyes meet, her jaw drops open like a hatch.
I can’t really blame her. As a rule, I stay away from mirrors, but if I caught my reflection right now, I’m pretty sure I’d be appalled.
Baring her teeth, Annie twists the key. ‘That bitch was going to kill you,’ she hisses. ‘Might’ve lost her nerve, but she was going to try.’
Back when Annie was my spirit guide, I hung on to her every word. Now, I see she’s just a fraud. One hand pressed to my tummy, I haul myself on to the seat.
The helicopter plunges past on our left, its downdraft rocking the van on its springs. Far below us, a line of police cars surges up the coast road. A short distance away, I see Gretel picking her way down the slope.
Getting on to the seat really took it out of me. My vision has blackened around the edges again, leaving a narrow tunnel. I lay my head against the rest and concentrate on my breathing.
‘He do that?’ Annie asks.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘He really fucked you up.’
I grunt in reply. There’s not much else I can add.
The seat rocks like a crib. My head nods on to my chest. It’s comforting, this – I feel like I’ve drunk too much of Meunier’s wine. If only someone would sing me a lullaby, I think I could fall asleep. When my head swings towards Annie, the world smears like runny paint. That’s when I grasp the reason my seat’s become a cradle. Annie’s released the handbrake. We’re beginning to roll downhill.
Within seconds, the gentle rocking becomes a violent jostling. ‘Wha’ you doin’?’ I slur, listening to my mangled words.
The van hits a tussock, rears up. Suddenly, instead of sloping grass, all I see is sky. When the bonnet swings back down, the front wheels punch the grass so hard that Annie and I are tossed forwards. I put out a hand to the dash, but I have no strength to brace myself. The little air I’ve hoarded is punched from my lungs. A spray of blood mists the windscreen.
Gross.
Beside me, Annie rocks back in her seat. She must have headbutted the steering column – her face is veiled in blood. Right now, she looks more like a feasting vampire than my old spirit guide. Regaining her grip on the wheel, she maintains our collision course.
In front of us, bracing her injured arm, Elissa slides over a rock. The van bounces towards her, a two-tonne metal wrecking ball. Unable to offer aid, I slump back in my seat and watch. No one who wakes beneath the Memory Wood really leaves it. No one ever escapes.
Here, at the end, I recall something Elissa once told me, back in the Gingerbread cellar: that we were like Hansel and Gretel, the brother and sister from the fairy tale. Even if she didn’t mean it, she’ll never know how happy it made me feel.
The van bounces up, slams back down. A crack races across the windscreen. The shaking is now so violent it’s impossible to catch a breath.
Outside, just like me, Elissa reaches the end of her strength. Realizing what’s about to happen, she twists around to face her fate.
I push myself back in the seat, hoping to delay the moment. Of a lifetime of bad memories, this will easily be the worst.
When she sees the van hurtling towards her, Elissa lifts her chin. Watching my queen, I’m so proud I want to cry out my admiration. In my ears, I hear that old line of Scripture, the one Mama used to make me read:Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armour of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.
Once, when I was younger, I tried to sabotage those schemes. In the attempt, I lost my little brother. Now, as I look through the cracked windscreen at Elissa, and Elissa looks back through the glass at me, I know I must try again.
With no breath in my lungs, no strength in my muscles, I have no ability to intervene. But intervene I do, sliding across the seat and ripping the wheel towards me.
Annie screams. The van heels over on its side. I don’t see Elissa flash by on the right, but I feel no impact against the front grille. We hit a mound, launch up. We’re airborne for a good few seconds before crashing back down. Again, Annie’s face is mashed against the wheel. One of her teeth pings off the dash.
‘Letgo!’ she shrieks, spitting blood.