The worst things always happened in winter’s coldest air – under dark skies whose clouds held in their tears. This night was one of those, and Ruby decided to park just off the main road instead of venturing deeper into the woods. The two with him thought it a horrible idea. Their usual spot was still a drive and a hike away, but he knew the frigid air meant less chaos. Less junkies and killers seeking haven in the shallower parts of the forest. The rangers must have thought the same, as they almost never patrolled when the temperature dropped below freezing.

  “They’re lazy for that, but not wrong,” Ruby said, his proceeding laughter sounding sincere enough. It was the first time anyone had spoken in about ten minutes, and he was convinced that in the depths of a rabbit hole, he had stumbled upon the truth. The others had no idea what he was on about. They gave him the same, confused look everyone was always giving him, but even three tabs deep – filthy acid he did not trust – the cigarette in his right hand kept him sane in the face of their unspoken accusations.

  All that concerned them was getting caught by the law, as despite the violent nature of crime the area was known for, they trusted Ruby to deal with any woodland freaks they might run in to. He was a fighter, moving a bit better than an amateur on his off days, and worse came to worst, he always kept that box cutter on him. The rusty, old thing had gotten them out of a few sticky situations without ever even having drawn blood. It was the type of weapon that said, “I *could* use a knife, but I’m fucking insane, so I *choose* to use a box cutter instead.” Ruby’s eyes had the right type of look to back it up too.

  But tonight, he was sure the freaks would steer clear. They were like children in a way, disinclined to create any extra work or headache for themselves on account of the freezing air. Consequently, the rangers would have no motivation to show either, and so Ruby asked the others, “can tonight be the *one* night we don’t tweak about getting caught?” Checking on one of his friends in the rearview mirror, he felt a sadness wash over him. The young man, Sari, was now hunched over, hyperventilating with his face hidden in his hands. It came as no surprise, and averting his gaze, Ruby forced out a chuckle to keep the despair at bay. “There won’t be a patrol,” he assured.

  “So, we’re risking it on what? A gut feeling?” replied the other passenger, Markus. With his elbow propped against the glass, he chose to stare into the forest, finding the near perfect darkness of the trees much preferable to Ruby’s overconfident face. He was the only one that dressed correctly for the cold, trumping the chain-smoker’s thin, long-sleeved shirt with a thermal jacket, and covering his shaved head with a beanie.

  “Brother, there’s no one out here. We’re not risking shit.”

  “You’re out here. I’m out here. Fuckin…” Markus pulled away from the window, glancing at the tweaker in the back seat, “fuckin’ Sari’s out here… just barely.” Dragged back to reality by the sound of his name, Sari’s face was stained with terror and confusion as he locked eyes with Markus. Markus could not help but burst into laughter.

  Ruby cracked a grin too, but bit the inside of his cheek and took a drag off his cigarette to keep it from fully manifesting. Then, in as serious a tone he could muster, he said, “we’re not the problem. The rangers’ll have worse crooks to catch on a warmer night.” It came out all wrong, sounding raspy, robotic and comical thanks to the smoke slowly escaping his lungs – clinging to each word uttered.

  “You’re the worst problem of them all, moron,” Markus answered back, his laughter fading into a sigh as his focus fell on the trees once more.

  They were *all* a few tabs deep, not just Ruby, but it was clear that the substance did not have much of an effect on Markus. He was still dead set on hiking out to their usual spot, and Sari, the cuffs of his collared button-down wet with snot and eye water, was, well… freaking the fuck out. For a moment, even if only to soothe a little of Sari’s concern, Ruby considered driving deeper into the woods. However, reaching for his door and fighting against the wind to get it open, he mumbled, “I’m not wasting gas when we’ve got the whole damn stretch to ourselves…”

  __________

  … no one argues as Ruby enters the room labeled “503.” No one *is there* to argue… just a bed dressed in clean white and a small candle atop a nightstand. The air smells of mold, trace formaldehyde and insignificance, and the candle’s weak flame leaves the bed stranded on an isle of orange amidst the cold shadows infesting the walls.

  You’ve got a weird way of fixing things… a way that doesn’t quite work, thinks the addict, squinting through scenes of a dark forest to get a clear view of the dead-end room. I was just trying to lighten the mood. It had… it had worked a thousand times before. How was *that time* so different?

  To any other ghoul, the bed before Ruby might be the greatest treasure the hotel has to offer, and believing it has the man in checkmate, it tries to pull him closer… and fails. He rejects 503’s invitation to sleep, leaving its heavy door wide open as he reenters the promised world of nauseating light and length.

  You knew exactly why he was cracking. Numb it. Numb it. Fucking numb it. You didn’t *care* about him. You just wanted him to shut the hell up about his brother… couldn’t take the constant reminder of *your* mistake. Numb it. That’s all you did, Ruby. It’s your special way of giving up… of doing *nothing* while making it look like you’re doing *something*. It didn’t work for him, and in the end, it didn’t work for you either.

  You’re wrong. It’s… the only thing that works. A few steps across the white maze’s marble floor brings him to another door he has no hope in, and reaching for its handle…

  __________

  … he struggled with the rusty latch to get the plateless trunk popped open. Inside was everything he valued most – a musty, black duffel packed with the gear he both trained and fought in, a cooler filled with the food he did not want his roommates to steal, and above all, a hard-shelled, gray backpack that had cost him almost an entire paycheck. Its glass contents clinked together as he threw it over his shoulder and slammed the trunk closed.

  Outside, it felt like the world had it out for him. The ancient trees whispered ill omens on the wind, and even though dark clouds moved high and fast across the night sky, blocking out the stars and the moon, the air was dry as could be. But Ruby did not mind. It was in the dark, away from the judgmental eyes of his friends, that he felt most at peace, and letting a gust enjoy the last of his cigarette, he stretched his arms high above his head while taking the deepest breath a smoker could.

  There was just one problem with the road carved into the forest. Running straight for a couple miles, it was like a wind tunnel, and in his lonely pocket on its gravel shoulder, lighting another cigarette would be an impossibility. So, with his right hand glued to the mat-black sedan, the chain-smoker made his way back to the driver’s seat, feeling the wind’s debris against his face and the shuffling of tiny stones beneath his feet.

  “My god man… you ever think about *anything* else?” he heard Markus say as he cracked the door open, the man’s bitter tone merging with that of the wind. But only once inside, sealed off from the weather, could Ruby make out the disturbed buzzing attached to Sari’s every breath. It was too much, and Ruby’s hands began to shake. Fumbling desperately for a fresh cigarette was all he could do to keep his mind from spiraling.

  Two lungfuls later, he turned on the radio, finding only static to hide his voice from Sari, and asked, “what’s wrong with him?”

  “Same as always. What the hell else would it be?” Markus responded without a second passed, still refusing to look Ruby in the eyes.

  And then Sari chimed in, his voice both shaking with uncertainty and labored from the frustration of being left out. “Do you guys think it was my fault?” His eyes were crazed, and Ruby’s heart cracked.

  “For the thousandth fucking time-” Markus started before the moron who drove them out there gripped his shoulder and killed the radio.

  “No, Sari, it wasn’t,” Ruby said, masking the despair in his throat the best he could, and even as Markus brushed his hand away, using an entirely unnecessary amount of force, he kept his cool. The look in Sari’s eyes had yet to change though, and so Ruby dug through his backpack for a solution. “It’s not a good idea to think about Ray… not right now,” he continued, handing Sari a half-drunk bottle of cheap rum, “it’ll just put you back down the rabbit hole.” The warning was just as much for himself as it was for his friend, but liquor in hand, Sari leaned back in his seat with a bit more control over his breathing. “I should’ve been there,” he mouthed, washing the words back down with a swig of rum.

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  This was the moment Markus had been waiting for, and Ruby knew it. He could tell by the want in the beanied fiend’s eyes… the twitch in his leg as he stared at the bottle in Sari’s hand. He felt that same, heavy glare weigh down his soul as he pulled a small bag of crystal, a blow torch and a glass pipe from his bag, but upon offering the items to Markus, the weight vanished. Only then did the obstinate passenger choose to meet his eyes, and he did so with a smile. “Bout’ time, my friend,” Markus said, snatching the paraphernalia from Ruby.

  He cooked the first two bowls before the pipe made its way around the car, ending its rotation with Sari. In the same way, the rum made its way back up to Ruby, chasing half a cigarette before it was finally Markus’s turn to take a pull. But as he did so, he caught a glance of the backseat passenger in the rearview mirror and began to choke. “What you seein’ out there you little freak? Police officers?” he asked, striking his fist to his chest to help along the coughs.

  Sari did not respond. Did not acknowledge. Blank faced and mouth breathing with his neck twisted as far to the right as it would go… he just kept staring. So, Markus, wearing the gravest of expressions and shaking profusely, slowly shifted his attention towards Ruby. The chain-smoker caught on. Eyes widened, nostrils flared and forehead scrunched, he pressed his palms tightly to his temples, pushing back his bangs, and asked, “shit… you think it’s goblins?” Laughter followed, enveloping the car that wreaked of fireworks and liquor, and for about twenty minutes, all awkward tension, uninvited aggression and concerns of parking and patrols were gone.

  And then Sari spoke again. “How do you know it was him?” he asked weakly… so weak that it should have been inaudible beneath the other’s elated banter, yet so clear that Ruby shook from the frigid depth of his words. If I hadn’t turned my back on Ray… he thought, desperation forcing out a moment of sobriety as he spun towards Sari …how the hell would it have ended up any different?!

  Markus did not hear Sari speak, but he did get a kick out of Ruby’s sudden alarm, and following the man’s gaze, was even more pleased to find out Sari’s contorted body and stone-faced expression were still as they were what felt like hours ago. Now it was *he* who gripped Ruby’s shoulder, unable to control his laughter, his volume or his tongue’s spray of saliva as he said, “what do you *really* think he sees out there?”

  “I don’t want to know,” Ruby tried to answer, but the words refused to come out. His voice was paralyzed with fear because, for a split second, *he saw* who Sari was talking to… *what* Sari was talking to. Out there? No, it was in the back seat with him, embracing his twisted posture with long, rotten limbs. The sharp vertebrae of its spine curved around him as easily as a length of rope, continuing their ascent beyond its neck and protruding from the back of its gray-fleshed skull. In one instant, it appeared to be whispering to Sari, mere centimeters from his ear. In the next, it was staring directly at Ruby. A hint of Ray lived in its eyes, and its mouth was nothing but a valley of infection, straining pus covered, blood crusted strings of flesh with its smile.

  There was no time to think. Ruby grasped for the boxcutter in his pocket, clenching his teeth with such a force that the dead nerve endings in his gums screamed back to life, but as he blinked, he slipped and fell a thousand feet below. It was devastatingly lonely, it was brutally cold, and it was Markus who reached out to catch him. “I hope you’re not coming down with a case of whatever the fuck Sari has,” he said, tapping his nail against the bottle of rum, “you’re supposed to be our designated driver, Rube.”

  His body would not stop shaking, but as he opened his eyes to find only Sari in the back seat, his grip on the boxcutter relaxed. Instead, he chose the liquor, feigning reverence and a thanks as he stole it from Markus. “I’m still good to drive… still sober,” he mumbled before taking a chug that almost killed the bottle and his front seat passenger. It was certainly annoying – the deliberate violence with which Markus coughed as he laughed – but it made it easier for Ruby to force out a laugh of his own. A lie to drown out Sari.

  “I can’t even bring myself to visit,” said the tweaker, and the others just laughed.

  “She hasn’t said it outright… could never say it outright, but I know she’s blamed me since the moment she got the call.” An inhuman twitch followed Sari’s every word, but Ruby pretended not to notice. He just kept laughing.

  “So, I can’t see her. Not with the guilt. Not with the blame,” Sari whined, and Markus cackled so hard he could barely breathe.

  “It’s like I’m not even her son anymore… just a reminder of the one she lost.” They just. Kept. Laughing. Laughing at a voice aching with despair. Laughing at a body plagued by convulsion. It was all Markus could do in the face of Sari’s tantrum, and it was all *Ruby* could do to keep his mind from breaking. It was never going to work.

  “But I didn’t know there was someone *with* Ray that night…” added Sari, and Ruby almost threw up, petrified in silence as he watched the tweaker regain full composure. “This whole time… I had an out… and he never fucking mentioned it.”

  The chain-smoker flinched as his dying cigarette ashed itself in his lap, directing him towards an out of his own. Numb it. Only one shot of rum remained, but it would have to do. Numb it. So, he leaned between the front seats, hovering over the center console, and offered his friend the rest. Numb it. Sari met his eyes with conviction, and Ruby stared back with a smile that failed to hide his stress. “You’re freaking me out, Sari. Why don’t you numb it?”

  “You know what? How about I don’t,” he responded with a weak nod and a smile of his own, grabbing the bottle by its neck. “I’ve always thought – how lucky am I… to have a friend like you. Someone who’d dealt with the guilt. Someone who could help. But now it feels like… it feels like it was wrong to have ever even met you. Like pain. Unlucky. And it feels like… it’s time for you to own up. A year is a long fucking time to wait, Ruby.” Those next few seconds became years too – the exact moment Ruby’s deep blue eyes withered to permanent ash – and biting his tongue with so much vitriol that blood began to leak from the corners of his mouth, Sari waited ten more. “You *do* know what I’m talking about, don’t you? It told me… you would know.”

  His voice was no longer his own but belonged to dozens of others. Young and old. Male and female. Hysteric and drowning in blood. It was infested, just like his face whose scowl grew to form sickly patches of red and white within its grooves. “You need to admit that, whatever Ray took… *whatever killed* my little brother… was provided… by you,” spoke the infestation as Sari ripped the bottle from Ruby’s grip and raised its bottom to the ceiling.

  But Ruby just shook his dead-eyed head and reached for another cigarette. “It’s just a bad trip, Sari… same thing that took Ray,” he argued, listening to the last drops of rum splash against the old, carpeted floor. Though, if he had even an ounce of confidence in what just left his mouth, his voice, nor his face, were able to prove it.

  “’Took… Ray?’ You know, you were just as much a brother to him as I was… just as much a brother to me as *he* was. I thought so, at least. We both did… both trusted you like blood trusts blood. But you’re a fucking liar, Ruby. There’s a ‘you’ that no one could see.” The knuckles of Sari’s bottle strangling hand turned white before he continued, “but *I* see you now… *I* see that, without *a shadow* of a doubt, IT… was YOUR FAULT.”

  He swung the bottle down upon the chain-smoker’s head like a hammer, but Markus, whose uncontrollable laughter had served as background music to their entire, single-sided conversation, pulled himself together just in time to push Ruby back into his seat. The glass shattered against the center console instead, and for the first time since they arrived at this damnable stretch of road, all was silent but for the faint howling of wind outside.

  “Are you fucking sleeping?!” Markus shouted in disgust, killing the quiet six seconds from its birth. It died for no one but himself, as Ruby reacted not to his voice, nor to the lighter thrown at his shoulder soon after. His brow was pressed against his headrest, his mouth was glued to the top of his seat, and his eyes stalked Sari from the gap left between.

  The tweaker was still clinging to the shattered bottle’s neck, jagged and hungry for the blood it was thieved. A weapon more deranged than a boxcutter, and a face more deranged than the weapon. Anger faded to misery, and meeting Ruby’s eyes one last time, Sari could not help but cry. “It was my fault,” he appeared to say before his body became a blur of motion and the broken remnant of a false solution found its way into the side of his neck.

  Blood sprayed forth, painting the rear right window red, and alongside what sounded like hundreds of distant, terrified voices escaping with Sari’s gurgling screams, was the premature scent of rot…

  __________

  … from whatever wretched once-human lay on the bed before Ruby. Only by the curse of candlelight is its massive, hairless form visible beneath the air’s dense haze, ensnared in thorny vines and surrendering clumps of itself in a struggle for freedom. Each slight movement convinces the greenbrier to constrict in kind, and the wet sound of its tearing flesh fills Ruby’s throat with bile.

  This whole damn *place*… is a dead end, he tells himself, reaching for a cigarette that may or may not exist while turning towards either the door of his car, or the door of another arbitrarily numbered hotel room… whichever is there, really.

  “76,” and no cigarette.

  “Fuck.”

  A hot surge rips down his ankle as he steps into the hall, and the subsequent blood splatter, illuminated by raging torchlight, glistens atop the marble floor. Covered in red too, is a thick, steaming vine who slithers back into room 76 like a frightened snake. The door slams shut behind it, and Ruby’s mind falls to broken promises. A way down. An aquarium. A smoke shop. It burns terribly to run, his shredded ankle leaving a trail of blood behind, but he does so to return to the one who lied – the red door that swallowed him whole… the only conceivable escape from eternity in a white maze.

  Eternity extended by the blind steps taken by his body while his mind was lost on a dark, forest road. Checkmate, killer, shouts his inner discord, the older brother’s blood is just *another reason* you don’t deserve to… but it dissolves to nothing more than muted ramblings as the addict prepares to take a hard left, and a beautiful voice comes back into earshot.

  “There,” says the wraith, her beady, little eyes spotting Ruby the moment he turns the corner. “Will you give him the push he needs, Aino?”