Getting Home

Part 42

I opened my eyes, seeing gray light, feeling like I was floating, flying.

Completely weightless.

Is this it? Did I really finally die this time?

I hit the ground.

It was like falling into net—like when I was a kid in gymnastics and we would fall into the foam pit. I sunk deep into the ground, feeling it cushion and cradle my body before it sprung me back up, spitting me out where I rolled clumsily to a stop.

I heard a loud thump and Henry's sudden, surprised grunt from somewhere up ahead of me.

Henry.

We had flown far—the ocean was quite a ways behind us, that same gray water looking the same as it did before. The Civic sat only a little ways past the shoreline.

Henry groaned.

I got up, running over to him. Smoke was coming off his back, as well as the back of his legs—Jorge's brother's clothes were full of little holes now, the shoulder of the shirt torn and hanging, revealing Henry's shapely and sexy shoulder.

I could see all burns and marks on his skin through the tattered clothes—

And blood.

"Ava, are you okay?" Henry said, slowly getting to his hands and knees.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said worriedly, grabbing his arm to help him up. "But what about you?"

Henry hissed a little in pain as he stood up, but he nodded.

I looked around. The ground was green here too, but a different shade than I had up to this point; dark emerald. The sky was still dark gray, but now appeared to roll and roil, subtly shifting and moving. Then I spied it—

The Civic.

Speckled paint was all that was left was on the top surfaces; the hood, roof, and trunk lid—everything was now a dull, gleaming silver. It took me a second to realize something completely obvious, and when I did, a wave of sadness overcame me—

The Civic wasn't going to ever move again.

The front end was embedded in the ground, the rear end hanging a foot or two in the air, the shiny tireless metal rims dangling.

"Oh no, Henry," I said breathlessly—I hadn't even thought about this happening, and now I wish I had. My mind suddenly flashed back; how many hours I had spent driving around aimlessly, the windows down and the radio loud as I sang along, the hours spent in parking lots with my friends, all in that car. The one and only place I could truly retreat to and let out my emotions... especially after...

All the times getting lost. Getting gas. Getting the keys for the first time.

Getting one last gift from my Dad.

"Oh, no," I repeated, but this time my eyes started to sting as they watered.

"I'm sorry, Ava," Henry said, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders. "The steed was able to accomplish what it wanted to—what it needed to do."

The rear wheel suddenly twitched, jerking a tiny bit.

And then fell still again.

"I feel so bad, Henry," I whispered, the tears finally breaking free and I started quietly crying.

Henry didn't say anything, but he put his arm around me and held me close.

"I feel like we should have a eulogy or something," I said finally, pulling away from Henry and rubbing all the tears from my face. "Or I should at least say something. Anything."

Henry wiped his own eye. "You already have, Ava."

I looked at him gratefully, before slipping my hand into his. We walked forward, and I bent down, petting the bent up hood of the Civic.

"Thank you," I whispered, before I had to turn away before I started crying again. "Goodbye."

Goodbye Dad.

"And now we walk," I said weakly, trying not to sniffle. Honestly, at this point, I didn't know how much more I could take. I didn't want to give up, still wanted to help Henry...

But physically didn't know if I could anymore.

But we walked anyways.

The Path was gone. I don't know where we going, but it was away from that ocean of gray, away from the Civic that was now forever stuck in the soft ground of this place. I tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, tried to ignore my thoughts.

It didn't work.

"Henry, I don't know how much longer I can go," I said finally, suddenly feeling completely exhausted. Maybe I still wasn't hungry or thirsty, but I was finally feeling all the heaviness in my body, my legs and feet hurting—everything was just sore.

"I'm just going to sit now, Henry," I said, my legs feeling weak. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Ava," he said quietly. "They're here."

"Who?" I looked around, seeing nothing but blank, gray landscape. "I don't see anyone."

"Them," he whispered breathlessly, pointing. "The fairies."

The ground began to rumble.