Guardians - Sara's Submission - Part Three

I just realized that this is a pretty lopsided set of parts, as three is significantly longer than the other two. The whole thing is actually longer than I thought: 13 pages at 14 point type.

I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I'd love to see some comments when I get back on Monday. And some other stories too.

Maya was not going to make it.

Even running as fast as she possibly could, Maya felt like the subway station remained an impossible distance away. She didn’t dare look back for fear that what she saw might leave her too frightened to even run. But she could hear her pursuers, calling after her, chasing her, gaining on her.

She had kept to the main streets so far. She always took that way; it was the most direct and the best lit at night. But was it the right choice now? If she kept to the main streets, they were going to catch up to her. The backstreets were dark, less conspicuous, more dangerous. But maybe she could lose the gang in their twists and turns, or at least buy a few extra minutes to reach the subway safely.

Maya didn’t have time to weight the decision. She picked a likely looking side street and turned as suddenly as she could, hoping her pursuers would take a minute to notice where she’d gone. The move gained her a few seconds, but soon she could hear them behind her again. She took another turn, just barely glancing to see if the street led anywhere. Another few seconds, and they were on her trail again. Another turn, another delay. It wasn’t much, but it was still time and she was still getting closer to the subway. One more turn and she’d be back on the main street, just a little more than a block from safety. She darted left without hesitation.

Maya came to a dead stop, her legs protesting the sudden cease of motion. In front of her was a high brick wall. She had gone down a dead end street. The wall towered above her mockingly as she scrambled to find a handhold on its rough surface. But she found nothing. She heard a yell from behind and knew she’d run out of time.

Slowly, Maya turned around. She didn’t want to, but there was nothing else she could do now. She had to face what was coming. The gang had gathered at the entry of the dead end alley. Maya could see now that there were seven of them, all dressed in the same hooded sweatshirts. They came towards her at an easy pace now, no longer in a hurry now that she had nowhere left to run. Maya backed herself against the wall, knowing it wouldn’t help her.

“I didn’t see anything,” she said weakly. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Even now, the alley was so dark that she couldn’t see the gang’s faces very well. She would never have been able to recognize them, describe them. The one closest to her sneered.

“Then why’d you run?” His question came at normal volume. Just as they no longer had to chase Maya anymore, they no longer needed to yell at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. The leader gave a short, humorless laugh. They were closer enough now that Maya could see the glint of metal in their hands. Probably knives. If they’d had guns, they would have shot her when she ran.
Maya wanted to run, to fight, to do anything to at least try and keep the inevitable from happening. But she knew there was no point. Even the nearest windows were dark, shuttered, and barred. No help was coming. She huddled against the wall, fully aware that nothing she could do could stop her from getting killed.

Then she heard it. To her surprise, they all heard it. From somewhere above, an angry roar broke the quiet of the night. Maya’s would be killers looked at each other in confusion, disturbed by the closeness of the cry. They didn’t know what it was. Maya did, though she deeply wished she didn’t.

She was ready for what came next, even though she didn’t want it to happen. A massive shadow dove down from above the alley. The huge form landed right in front of her, between Maya and the gang. Maya watched the translucent bat-like wings fold back and the great reptilian head rise up.

Tyr.

Maya closed her eyes tightly, covered her ears, and turned away. She had to shut this out, get back to the real world. Even as bad as what was really happening might be, she couldn’t let herself fall away into fantasy again. Not after all this time

“Leave . . . her . . . alone,” Tyr growled, loud enough for Maya to hear.

Maya didn’t want to react. She knew she shouldn’t. But something in her still welled up completely unbidden when she heard Tyr speak. Talking had always been difficult for Tyr. Hearing her say something defensive after all these years still touched Maya.

Almost angrily, Maya shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. Was it still that easy for her to think that way, like Tyr was real? She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself. When she opened her eyes, Tyr would be gone. She’d still be facing death, but wasn’t that better than trying to escape reality with a delusion?

Maya opened her eyes slowly and was immediately disappointed. Tyr was still there, crouched down protectively as the men approached her. Maya could only count five of them now; the other two must have run off. The leader charged at Tyr, wielding what Maya could now clearly see was a knife. Tyr lunged forward to meet him and flung him back with the side of her gigantic arm. The remaining four thugs jumped at Tyr and the fight was on. Between the darkness and the speed of the fighters, Maya couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. She didn’t even want to know. She had driven out her memories of Tyr for years, but even now, forced to confront them again, she couldn’t recall ever imagining Tyr interacting with other people. Let alone fighting them. If her delusion was this intense, what was really happening had to be too horrible for her to face.

Maya tried every focusing exercise she’d been taught to stop imagining Tyr. The gang was too busy taking on Tyr to notice her, so she was able to concentrate. But still, it didn’t work. She still saw her imaginary friend taking on a real threat. She even saw a clear space where she could rush by, escape the alley, get to safety.

“Don’t indulge the delusion,” Maya could hear her psychologist – the one who had finally made Tyr leave – saying. “Even if it seems like a better choice than the real ones you have to make, it’s not real. Every time you choose imagination over reality, you give it more power over you.”

Maya knew it was wrong. She should just stay right here until the hallucination passed and take whatever consequences reality brought. But Maya’s psychologist had never anticipated a choice between running to safety, even an imaginary safety, and dying in an alley. Did it even matter now? At worst, she was just delaying the inevitable.

Maya made her decision. She took one last glance at the brawl, still centered on a thing that did not exist, checked to make sure it was safe, and ran. She kept going, fast at first, but then a little slower. She even allowed herself to look back once, though she kept walking. No one was following her, not even Tyr.

Turning a corner, Maya saw the light of the subway station, just one street down from the dead end alleyway. Maya kept walking, but her steps were more hesitant now. It was one thing to get out of a bad situation in her imagination. But how long could this go on? Would she take the imaginary subway home to her imaginary apartment, wake up and call her imaginary mother in the morning? How long before reality intruded?

Unless, of course . . .

Maya was at the entry to the stairway that led down into the subway station. Her hand rested on the metal railing, which was cool to the touch. All the old questions slowly started coming back. If she were imagining this, would she have imagined the railing to feel cool? Could she change it to warm if she wanted, or even to water, or a snake? And how, as a five-year-old child, had she ever imagined something as complex as Tyr, a huge humanoid dragon with poor hearing and speech problems? How was it that Tyr’s appearance had never changed, not even now? And why had she imagined a giant monster as her protector and friend instead of something more pleasant looking? The only real answer she had ever come up with was one the psychologists disliked and she didn’t really want to entertain either. The idea that it might actually be real just raised too many more questions that no one could answer, or wanted to answer. So Maya had just learned to stop asking. But now it seemed unavoidable. Was there any possibility that this could all be real?

Maya shook her head. Of course it wasn’t. Either something else has distracted the gang and allowed her to escape and she’d just inserted her old imaginary friend in its place, or she would stop hallucinating any minute now and find herself dealing with whatever had really happened to her. For now, she would deal with what was in front of her, take the subway, go home. At worst, she might have to cope with controlling her delusion again, but it was certainly better than dying.

She was about to take the first step down into the subway when she heard Tyr scream. Maya nearly fell down the next two steps, only managing to steady herself by grasping the railing. The cry ripped at her, as if something inside of her was directly affected by it. Maya gripped the railing tightly, as the cold metal was her only link to reality.

“It isn’t real,” she told herself, “It can’t be real. It can’t. Don’t give in to it.”

But the feeling was still there, a throbbing pain inside of her that she knew meant Tyr was hurt. Her logical side was reminding her that, even in her hallucinations, Tyr had never been hurt so she couldn’t possibly know that this supposed sensation meant that. But she couldn’t deny it. She knew, just as Tyr had always known when Maya needed her. And Tyr had always been there for her. Just like she had this time.
Maya stood, not even using the railing for balance. She knew what she was doing was insane, but she didn’t care anymore. Determined, she began to run back to the alley. On the way, something caught her eye. In an open garbage can rested a thin wooden board, broken on one end. Maya didn’t even stop. She just reached out and grabbed the board. It came easily to her hand, as if it belonged to her. Gripping her newfound weapon firmly, she ran back to the alley.

It only took her a second to take in the scene. Three of the remaining thugs were strewn about the alley and showing no signs of getting up again anytime soon. The remaining two had somehow overpowered Tyr and were standing over her. One of them had his knife raised. Maya thought it might be the leader, but it really didn’t matter. She never stopped moving, never hesitated. As if she’d been doing it all her life, she swung the broken board and the back of the leader’s head.

The emotion Maya felt as her makeshift weapon connected with the back of another person’s head was strange. She felt some morbid satisfaction, and some relief that this insane plan had worked. But there was also fear, horror, and even a bit of regret. Maya knew in that moment that she might be killing someone, and that there was no turning back. She didn’t have time to process it then, but later she realized that in that moment, she fully accepted that everything that was happening to her was real. At the subway stairs, she had decided that she didn’t care if it wasn’t. But when she struck the man in the back of the head with all the strength she had, she knew it was real. Because even if she could imagine the cold feeling of a metal railing, an escape from a darkened alleyway full of men who wanted to kill her, and a protector dragon, she knew she could never imagine a set of emotions as complex as the ones she was feeling at that moment.

The gang leader slumped forward and fell to the pavement. The one remaining member of the gang still standing gaped at Maya, shocked. Maya glared at him, brandishing her wooden board. Though her attention was on the final thug, she was relieved to hear a low grunt as Tyr rose and stood behind her.

“Get out,” Maya snarled, and Tyr growled to encourage the thug to obey. He quickly did, rushing back out of the alley, never to return.

The danger past, Maya sank back against the alley wall and let out a sigh. She glanced down at the other gang members, lying still at her feet. It was too dark to determine their conditions. They could well be dead. Or thy might be merely unconscious. They could wake up at any time. But it didn’t matter. They could handle any of them.

“They”. She and Tyr.

Tyr was standing by Maya’s side now. She was hunched over, almost on all fours. Maya dimly remembered that Tyr usually stood like that. She only rose to her fully height when she found something threatening. Her feather-like crest had lowered to a relaxed position. Even in the dark, Maya could make out a slash across Tyr’s nose and several stab wounds in her right arm.

“Oh Tyr,” Maya said in a whispered. She reached out slowly and touched the huge muscled arm beneath the injury.

“Doesn’t . . . hurt,” the dragon grunted, and Maya knew she was being mostly honest. Tyr’s thick hide appeared to have saved her from serious injury.

“How did you find me?” Maya asked. It was just the first of many questions that came to her mind now that they were both safe. Where had Tyr gone after Maya sent her away? Why had she come back now? More importantly, what would she do now that she was here?

“I . . . felt . . . you,” Tyr said simply. “I . . . came.”

Suddenly, Maya’s other questions didn’t seem so pressing. How long had it been? At least ten years. Probably more. More than ten years since she had told Tyr that she wasn’t needed or wanted, that she wasn’t even real. More than ten years of Maya willing herself to forget, of telling herself that none of it actually happened. And still, after all that, Tyr had come. Maya had needed her and Tyr had come.

In spite of everything that had happened that night, Maya felt a greater calm than she had in years. Though the adrenaline rush she had felt when she had decided to go back for Tyr was subsiding, she felt no less sense of purpose, no less clear about what she had to do. They would go back and find the gang’s original victim, back where this had all started. He or she would need help. Maya wasn’t sure yet who could and couldn’t see Tyr, so she’d have to be careful about that, wait for other people to say something rather than assuming that they could see Tyr. Once the person Maya had seen being attacked was taken care of, she would alert the authorities about the gang. If the police asked, she would tell them she used the wooden board in self-defense. She’d tell them the truth, minus Tyr. I might be difficult to explain some things if Tyr had been particularly vicious in her attacks. But Maya felt strangely certain that it would be all right. And then, they would go home. She and Tyr. If Tyr wanted to come.

“We need to go help someone else,” began Maya, before realizing that she didn’t need to say anything. She would have to get used to that again.

“Do you want to come with me?” Maya added. That, she felt, needed to be said aloud.

“Yes.”

Tyr apparently agreed that both question and answer were important enough to be spoken. Maya could feel the flood of relief, mixed in with joy and surprise, from Tyr at being asked to stay. It was almost overwhelming, but they still had a lot to do.

Maya rested her hand gently on Tyr’s side as they walked out of the alleyway together.