THIS CITY IS a fairy tale. This city is a skeleton, chipped away and faded to gray.

Matthew knew he would never stop falling fallingfallingfallingfalling

falling through the abyss. He did not know how long he’d been asleep. His consciousness was frayed, slippery. Dying, he thought.

Dying now. Dying.

“No... uh, no...” he stammered, shaking his head, seeking will, seeking a spark. “Dee!” he yelled out, panic boiling inside him, the last torn threads of panic that comes with death. “Dee... Dee, please...”

He heard her murmur, he heard her trying to dig through the rubble to find him, she was looking for him and her mouth was making a clicking sound that infected his thoughts with a fear so deep that he thought his heart would burst, his brain melt into syrup and drain away through his nose and ears.

“DAMN IT, ANSWER ME!”

And like that, it was all gone. The sounds of scraping, of something approaching him in the dark, of the visions of the morose landscape and empty sky. All gone.

Just black.

He touched his eyes with his fingers and felt their I’mreal solidity. He exhaled rattily, grateful for his broken nose because the smell of him was becoming rotten, and he was glad not to fully inhale the stench.

He reached, tentatively, for Dee’s hand once more, if for no other reason than to prove he could return to sanity, and to a world – albeit painful –

that was real.

“I’d leave her alone, boy-o. You want nothing to do with that, believe me.”

The voice sounded inches away. Matthew jerked his head around, wide-eyed, and stared at the blank expanse. “Who’s there?”

A hand rested on his shoulder. “Who do you think? That hot receptionist?” A pause, a frown in the dark. “Nah, she’s... well, she’s elsewhere. And trust me, she’s not so hot anymore.”

Matthew’s mind spun. He rotated his shoulder as best he could and reached his hand slowly toward the sound of the voice. He touched flesh. A face, an unshaven cheek. He felt the cheek muscle flex – the face was smiling.

“Don’t get fresh.”

Matthew smiled, then laughed. He knew the voice now, somehow could see the features of its face through his fingertips. “Kelly?”

“You are in a bad spot, my friend,” Kelly said, his hand caressing Matthew’s shoulder, then moving inexplicably to his side, where he was poking. He lifted the sport coat, slid his hand beneath, began feeling Matthew’s side through his dress shirt. He pinched his flesh.

“Ow,” Matthew said, chuckling. “Jesus, dude.”

“Sorry,” Kelly said, but he kept pinching, more lightly now.

Matthew’s mind quieted, it was so very dark, but he thought he could, just barely, make out Kelly’s features. His skin had a slight glow to it. A silvery luminescence that reflected, repelled the dark. He was smiling, Matthew saw, and rested his fingertips on Kelly’s face.

“God, I miss you, man,” he said, tears falling from his eyes. “I really miss you.”

Kelly grabbed Matthew’s hand but his hand is under your coat and squeezed it. He leaned his head closer to Matthew’s, their foreheads almost touching. He smiled, and then whispered, as if it were a secret between them, as if he were avoiding a thousand nearby ears, straining to overhear them.

“I can get you out of here, Matthew,” Kelly said, his eyes bright and alive with mischievous joy. “I can save you.”

Matthew shifted, brushed something away from his face, focused on Kelly’s eyes. “How?”

Kelly smiled more broadly, laughing with secret knowledge. “Do you want to come with me? I’m only going to ask once.”

Matthew’s smile faltered. Reason, or sanity, tried to break through the thick webbing that had spun itself around his mind. Kelly is dead, he said to himself, but the words carried no weight, no practical application.

“Am I dead?” he said, genuinely curious. “Are you a ghost? A shadow of memory?”

Kelly laughed mirthlessly. “No, man!” He gave Matthew a side-long glance. “You know, you’re acting a little weird.”

“Yeah, well,” Matthew said, rubbing his swollen, stubby tongue with his fingers. “It’s been a rough week.”

Kelly laughed again, sounding just like he did in the old days. Matthew wanted it to be the old days. He wanted to be back in college, sorting through their clothes in the communal laundry room, heading out to a party at an off-campus apartment they’d heard about through a friend or a neon-colored flyer.

“I’m married now,” Matthew said, realizing his dead friend probably wasn’t aware.

“I know,” Kelly said, “and I’m happy for you. I always knew you and Diane were going to go the distance.”

Matthew waited, debating how much Kelly would want to know about his life. His mind drifted to his family. He tried to remember them. Diane. Little Kelly, the baby. His child. They’re lost, he thought. He drifted, his scalp tingling. White spots beat against his eyes like falling stars crashing silently by the hundreds, thousands... blinding light.

Kelly pinched him again – harder this time - and it brought him back.

“I have a son” he said, trying to swallow, his throat too swollen, too dry. “We named him after you. I think I’m dying, buddy. I feel like glass. Like really thin glass...”

Kelly’s smile faltered. He caressed the side of Matthew’s face.

“They’re all with me now, Matthew,” he said quietly, his eyes wide and watery as black lakes. “I can take you to them.”

Matthew’s mind began to buzz loudly, his skin began to itch, his blood cold as ice. He thought the thumping of his heart was slowing down, an erratic drum beating his blood out and away into the sacrificial earth, which drank greedily.

“Your mom and dad, they’re here, too.” Kelly shuffled closer. “They want to meet you. They’re really sorry, Matthew, and they said they love you. How great is that?”

Matthew couldn’t process, he tried to understand but nothing was coming to the surface. “You can save me,” was all he could think to say, his eyes leaking.

Kelly nodded. “Say the word, Matthew. Say the word and I’ll take you away from all this. I’ll bring you to Diane, to your son, your folks.” He paused. “I’m there too, bud. I’m there, too. God, even Stanley is there.”

“That old man?” Matthew said, and they both laughed. Laughed like they had as kids, when they’d lain in a backyard tent and talked all night, trading handheld video games, looking at comic books with flashlights. Carefree, Matthew thought. Nothing in the world but us. It was heaven.

Kelly broke through his memories. “They’re coming, Matthew. We’re almost out of time.”

Matthew was startled, shaken by the urgency in Kelly’s voice. He barely noticed that Kelly had slid a heavy hand beneath his shirt, was burrowing into his belly with wiggling fingers. “Who... who’s coming?” he asked.

Dee. What about Dee? he thought, but didn’t know if Kelly could save her. “There’s a woman here...” he said.

Kelly’s face fell. He heard movement from where Dee lay. A wild, scrambling sound, like she was suddenly fighting through the rubble to reach him. Matthew debated reaching out for her.

“Matthew,” Kelly hissed.

Dee was speaking, saying something in haughty, choked sounds, a language Matthew did not recognize. He heard her grunting, cursing, writhing. She was breaking through.