I looked over my shoulder. The people of Green Creek were gone, but in their places were little balls of light. Dozens of them.
Gordo moved first. He walked toward the closest door. It was made of old wood, symbols carved into the frame. Vines and roses in such detail, they almost seemed real.
On top of this door sat the raven.
It bobbed its head up and down as Gordo approached.
The doorway was black. It looked like empty, vast space.
But as Gordo got closer, the blackness faded.
Voices came from just inside the doorway.
Gordo’s chest hitched.
He said, “Is this….”
A woman laughed. A child squealed in joy. And then Robert Livingstone said, “Oh where, oh where can he be? Has anyone seen my son? His hiding place is so good that I’m worried he’ll be lost forever!”
He sounded different.
Younger.
Lighter.
Happier.
Gordo’s hand shook as he r
eached toward the door.
Gavin stopped him. One moment he was by my side, and the next he was pulling Gordo away from the door. Gordo struggled, but Gavin was stronger, and he was saying, “No, Gordo, no. It’s not real. Don’t.” He wrapped his arms around Gordo’s waist, holding him in place even as Gordo tried to break free. “It’s not real.”
“I have to see,” Gordo snapped. “I have to—”
“There you are,” Livingstone said, and the child (Gordo?) burst out laughing. “I thought you were gone forever! I was so worried.”
“Never,” Gordo said from somewhere inside the door. And in the clearing, still in the grip of his brother, he said, “Never, never, nevermore.”
Mark went to them. Gordo stopped trying to pull away, hanging his head. Mark stood in front of him, blocking the doorway.
He said, “I remember this. You were… six? Seven? You would always hide. Your mom knew where you were, but she’d never tell. And he would find you. He would always find you. Memory. It’s a memory.”
“It’s not real,” Gavin said. “It’s past. It’s ghosts. Distraction. Slipping. It’s slipping.”
I felt cold.
“I want to see her,” Gordo whispered.
“I know you do,” Mark said quietly. “But she’s not here. She’s gone. Gavin’s right. This isn’t real.”
From the doorway, Gordo’s mother said, “What a lovely day. I feel better. My headache is gone. I can think clearly. Isn’t that funny?”
“I’m glad,” Livingstone said, and his heart stuttered. “I knew it would just take time.”
“He’s lying,” Gavin said. “Gordo, he’s lying. Stay here. With us.”
“Yes,” Gordo said. “Yes. Yes.”