What Lurks Below by Jordan Thompson
“They called him a monster, and they were right. But he couldn’t help himself,” I begin, morphing into the Storyteller as though this is just another evening under my bed. As though we aren’t huddled on the floor of a cell awaiting execution.
“Do you want to hear the story?” I don’t bother whispering. There’s no point. The microphone doesn’t work, and even if it did, what would They do? Lean in and listen to the story of their own past? Punish us further?
I laugh dryly.
“Is it true?” Alex asks.
I’ve wrapped the blanket from the cot around us. He’s curled up in a ball, his head in my lap so I can stroke his hair.
“Have I ever lied to you?” I ask. Alex waits a long time before answering. Then he shakes his head.
No, I have never lied to him. I’ve left a few things out about myself, but the stories have all been true. Every single one. Just like this one.
“Tell me,” he decides.
“It wasn’t so long ago, but forward, not backward, at a place in time when things were very different. The people then … they could do things. Different things. Things that threatened our humanity. They experimented. Do you know what that means?”
“Like in science class,” Alex answers, as though he’s in one of our lessons and the Instructor has called on him.
“Exactly. Except the experiments were real. They wanted to change things, connect the dots that were scattered and fragmented across generations.”
“What do you mean?” Alex never asks questions. This shows me just how far I’ve carried him. Pushed him.
“You know how we study history? What happened a long time ago, what people did and said?” I ask. Alex nods. “Wouldn’t you understand it a lot better if you could go back and see it for yourself?”
“I guess so,” Alex says, his voice skeptical.
“What if you could go forward?” I ask.
“Forward?”
“Those are the dots They wanted to connect. Future and past. Before and After,” I explain.
“How do you know?” Alex asks.
I take a deep breath, barely feeling the floor beneath me.
“Because I’ve been to both. Before and After. It’s the in-between I’ve never had much luck with. Anyway,” I say before he can ask another question. “It was during After that They began to get restless. They were unsatisfied with the parameters of daily life. They felt limited. In truth, They were just bored and didn’t have enough imagination to enjoy what was in front of them, but that’s not the point.
“They wanted to test themselves, when in reality, They were testing the boundaries of life. They found a wrinkle, a seam, that held together Before and After. They tampered with the seam, went back and forth in time, taking other people with them whether or not they wanted to go. Soon even that began to bore them. So, they moved on to something else, creating life from nothing. What did you learn about matter, Alex? In Lessons.”
“There are three types,” he begins, but I interject before he names them.
“What else?”
“It can’t be created or destroyed.”
“Exactly,” I say and rumple his hair. He’s always been so smart. “It’s the same with life. It can be created, but not from nothing. And it can’t be destroyed, not in the way They’d hoped. Because there’s more to human life than beating hearts, something greater than that, something that cannot be erased.
“So, they created a creature never before seen on this earth. They scrapped together material from other living beings, cells, and DNA they had no business touching and gave life to something They didn’t understand. It began to grow and overpower them. They called it a monster, an abomination, a mistake. But there are no mistakes when creating life, Alex. So, They tried to destroy it. And that only made it worse. It made it hungry. Ravenous. They tried to squeeze and mold it into something that fit into their plan. But still, the monster grew, hunting for the fulfillment its creators couldn’t provide.
“Can you guess what happened next?”
Alex is very still. I notice now that I’ve stopped talking that he’s holding his breath.
“The monster killed them,” he guesses, his voice icy.
“No,” I say, smoothing down that sprig of hair on his crown. “It wanted to. So instead, someone let it go.”
Now Alex sits bold upright. It’s dark here in the cell. Someone dimmed the lights, probably thinking we would go to sleep. As though that were an option.
“Let it go?” he demands.
I nod.
“Someone released it. It’s out there.”
Alex’s eyes open wider, and he looks around the cell as though the monster is lurking in the shadows.
He’s close, but not quite.
“Why would someone do that?” he asks.
“To save Them from Themselves. To save the monster, give it a chance. To right an unspeakable wrong.”
“But that happened during After.” “Yes, and when They couldn’t control it, They sent it back to Before. It’s here now,” I explain.
“Here?” Alex asks, his forehead a mountain range of creases.
“Here. With us.”
“That was a mistake,” Alex says, shaking his head.
I’m struck again by how far he’s come over the last couple of weeks.
No, Alex. It’s our ticket out of here.
Jordan Thompson 