Free Crossfades by William Todd Rose Page A

great enough to propel her into whatever lay beyond. But he couldn’t shake that image. It was as clear as if he were actually seeing her, and his body tensed as his hands balled into fists.
    This was no place for a child. It was barely tolerable for him, a trained professional. What must it have been like for someone who still didn’t understand how these things worked? For an innocent soul who didn’t even realize she was dead yet?
    The air suddenly felt too thin and dry, and Chuck clenched his teeth as he breathed through his nose. The shadows surrounding him looked darker than they had before, almost as though they were gaining strength from the sense of dread that clawed at Chuck’s rational thought processes.
    What the fuck are you doing here, man?
    From somewhere farther down the stairwell, a woman wailed. Her cries sounded as if they came from the far end of a long tunnel, muffled but echoing slightly. Though no words were actually spoken, Chuck felt the desolation as keenly as if it were his own. He felt as if hope had all but evaporated, leaving only a cold and empty expanse. So much despair in those choked sobs, so much fear in the whimpers punctuating them…
    Chuck looked back over his shoulder again, seeking to calm the anxious quiver in his stomach with his silver cord’s ghostly radiance.
    “Remember the feel of warm sand against bare feet. The smell of saltwater and gulls squawking overhead.” It was Control’s voice, broadcasting across The Divide and creating a link between his office and this castle of suffering. “Remember slicing your heel on broken glass, half-hidden within the dunes. How the wound stung as your blood oozed over sand so wet that it was almost reflective.”
    She was good. With nothing more than his vital signs to guide him, Control had skillfully reinforced Chuck’s bonds with the physical world, summoning memories from vague descriptions in his file. Her ability to capture sensory details, to construct an impression of a place and time beyond the Cutscene, was just as important as his silver cord. Without her to reel in emotions when he couldn’t, his cord would fade; without her, he ran the risk of being lost forever.
    Images of the beach chased away thoughts of Abigail and the crash of waves drowned out the woman’s wailing. He was no longer within the turret of a castle, but standing before the ocean, watching sunlight sparkle on the blue water as if millions of diamonds bobbed within its surface. A white-crested wave rolled over the sand and lapped against a gnarled piece of driftwood. When the tides pulled the water back into the sea, it left behind a layer of foam whose bubbles popped until a new surge wiped it clean. But the water also washed away stress; tension was coaxed from Chuck with each new breaker, and he felt as though physical weight was removed from his chest and shoulders. Breathing became easier and confidence swelled within him, replacing the doubt and fear that had struggled to take hold. Within minutes, he was calm enough to turn away from the ocean and its limitless horizon. At his back was the castle’s passage, and he stepped into it slowly…not from lingering trepidation, but because he felt so light and airy that quick movements were a physical impossibility.
    “Control…” He knew the transmission was one-way. The halo allowed her to speak to him, but he had no way to actually reciprocate. And yet he whispered to her anyway, taking comfort in the knowledge that he was never truly alone. “Thanks for having my back.”
    Instead of succumbing to the false world, Control’s guidance allowed Chuck to face the spiraling stone stairs. Other voices reached him now as well, lending their distress to a caterwaul of suffering. Weak pleas for help and mercy, hysterical crying, and strained, warbling wails: Their torment circled him like an invisible demon. It scratched the back of his neck with cold talons and chased chills down the length of his