hiraeth

twelve

xii. Enne

The Hollywood Wax Museum, usually relatively quiet, explodes with a conglomeration of dissonant noise.

Enne skirts past the giant statue of King Kong with Nia. No one mans the ticket counter, flyers scattered about haphazardly. To the left is the exit of the exhibition. To the right is the starting point.

"I'll take the left," Nia decides at once. "Take the right. Yell if you find Peter."

"But-"

Nia's gone. Enne hesitates, tempted to go after her for fear of being left alone, but she grits her teeth and counts to three.

Don't be a baby, she scolds herself.

She moves.

Enne stumbles into a tight corridor. Groups of people shove past her, bawling about a big accident in the "scary room." She breaks free and stumbles past a display of Breakfast at Tiffany's.

It's relatively dim inside. Overhead, yellow, blue, and red lights beam down, casting long shadows.

She keeps going: Ellen Degeneres sitting in a chair; a boy band she doesn't recognize; Chris Pine.

"Shit!" someone curses from far away. "Fucking...bloody...hell! Why are there so many souvenirs on the floor?"

Ah. That would be Nia.

"Well, this is annoying," Enne pants, her feet pounding the ground. The museum is constructed in a manner such that visitors are forced to walk down one long hallway. There's no choice but to keep running. "Peter! Where are you?"

"Peter!" Nia screeches. "Get your ass back here!"

She barely makes out Edmund's response: "Hello? Who's there? I'm kinda-" Loud crash. "-busy!"

"Nia, shut up, I'm trying to find Ed!" Definitely Peter.

"I'm sorry, but-" The clang of metal. "-who's trying to find me?"

"Me!"

"Me, who?!"

"Me, three!" hollers Nia, followed by her raucous laughter.

"Oh my god," howls Peter.

Enne curbs a corner. Right. Left. Left. Right. Gods, it's eerie in here. She slows down.

"Nia, I found Jack Sparrow!"

"Ooh, blow him a kiss for me!"

Enne opts not to follow that particular order, but she steals his pirate hat for Nia and places it on her head. "Done!"

Portraits, jail cells, a whole entire bed. Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Lawrence, Ryan Gosling.

Deafening roars reverberate off the walls. Panic seizes her. "Nia? Peter?" No answer. They're too far.

Bill Murray, Michael Jackson, Ted Knight. Enne stops looking and whizzes by, costumes and sets blurring together like one big hallucination.

She slows down to catch her breath, and to her relief, she hears Nia and Peter egging each other on nearby.

She looks up and nearly trips.

"Nope, nope, not today," Enne sobs, backing up. A dark corridor greets her, a set of stairs leading into an abyss. Hanging above are dolls with missing eyes and puppets dangling from invisible string, mouths open. Her only solace are the patches of fluorescent, neon lights set in place to help guide visitors down. Out of the corners of her eyes, she spots Frankenstein and Michael Myers.

She recoils.

But her friends are down there, and so is the monster, so she seizes her bow, slips an arrow from her quiver, and plummets into hell.

"Enne!" Nia calls. "Over here."

Her eyes adjust to the darkness, and there, in the middle of the room, are two Laistrygonian Giants. They're eight feet tall, and while Enne can't see their faces or clothing properly, their pointed teeth, and the sharp spikes of their iron clubs, glint in the low light.

She makes out Nia's figure, a lamp illuminating her physique. Her friend circles one of the giants, taunting it. Peter is close, doing the same to another giant in the corner.

His brother isn't with them, but she hears him battling what she presumes to be another giant on the other side of the double doors.

"Enne," Nia repeats, still not removing her eyes from the monster. "I'll tell you when to shoot." The giant swings the club and hurls it at her body. She lunges forward.

It's hard to describe Nia and Peter's technique, but Enne loses herself for a moment watching them. Nia is nimble, speed and agility and grace; Peter is calculated, power and precision and perseverance. It's like watching a dance, deadly but beautiful.

Nia runs her dagger through the flesh of the giant. "Now!"

Enne nocks her arrow into place. Her practice had been limited, considering the fact that Peter and Nia just about murdered every monster on sight their entire journey. But she steadies her breathing and pulls the arrow back. Aims at the giant's neck. Releases.

Thwack. The monster goes down with a thud. One down.

To her astonishment, Peter literally climbs up the giant's back. He lifts his sword and goes for the kill, impaling the weapon into the back of its skull. They hold their breath. Peter vaults off and lands on his feet just as it crashes in a cloud of dust.

"Show off," Nia mutters. She brightens up when Enne runs over, and she squeezes her into a hug. "Good job, Enné! I'm proud of you!"

Enne pulls away and frowns. "I literally did one thing."

Peter claps her on the back. She coughs. "And it was great."

Nia makes a face. "Ew, don't touch my bffl."

"I was just trying to be nice!"

Another loud boom erupts, and they all make a beeline for the door.

The light is blinding. Enne scrunches her nose and waits for her eyes to adjust. Peter rushes forward so fast, she feels the air shift.

"Edmund!" he yelps.

"Peter, geroffmeh. I can't breathe."

Finally, everything comes into focus. She sees Nia first, her clothes rumpled and soot clinging to her face. She looks a little shaken up, but she's otherwise unharmed. Peter has stepped back, blue eyes shining and the happiest he's looked since, well, ever.

And there, standing parallel to Enne in the center of the hall, is the infamous Edmund Pevensie, jet-black hair sticking up at random and freckles dusting his nose.

The boy flips over the sword in his hand, and her breath hitches when his gaze lands on her, an impish smirk tugging at his lips.

"Wow," he says, "cool pirate hat."