I had just pulled myself out of the hole in the earth. The Watchtower loomed over me like a disappointed parent. I cried as I walked rather aimlessly. I couldn’t go back home. I couldn’t face them. I sobbed and sobbed until my tears ran dry.
At last, I collapsed onto my already bloodied knees and screamed. It wasn’t a powerful scream but rather a desperate, hollow noise.
“Ophelia,” a soft voice called out.
I looked up at the starry skies, wondering if they were calling my name, summoning me to the heavens.
“Ophelia?” The voice called again, but this time closer. “Oh, my god, you’re alive…you…did it hurt you? Did it touch you?”
Footsteps raced up to me until the familiar presence of a woman knelt beside me.
“I…I…” I sobbed, unable to find the words to describe what I had witnessed.
It was as if my brain was preventing me from thinking about what I had seen in those caves.
“It’s okay, you’ll be alright,” a warm hand reached up and touched my bare back. She rubbed gently in circles.
I continued to cry. My brain was in a strange fog. The Watchtower hadn’t given me any ‘gift’ like the others had said. It had ripped me apart.
“Ophelia,” she said to me, forcing me to look her in the face. “I need you to listen to me.” There was fear in her eyes as she looked at me. “I’m going to get you out of this,” she said. “But it won’t be easy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know,” her face twisted into a sorrowful expression. “I know.”
“Carmen,” I reached out. “I don’t understand…”
I woke up in a state of pure panic. For a moment, I couldn’t be sure where I was. I was on a couch with a patchwork blanket tossed over me. The room was dimly lit by a small light in the corner of the room. I sat up slowly, only to find that I was being watched.
A chair sat perpendicular to the couch. Sitting in it was Coyote. His weathered face was drawn into a look of disappointment.
“What the hell happened?” I said, narrowing my eyes at the strange, old man.
I pulled myself into a sitting position. It was hard to forget those strange memories that had just resurfaced. When I thought about them too much, I felt sick.
“I told you to go when you had the chance,” he said. “But you didn’t listen, did ya?”
“You need to explain what the fuck is going on here,” I glared at him. Despite my fear, I was angry. “Why the hell did Varo drag me out here? I’ve…I’ve been here before but…”
“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Coyote said.
“Yeah? No shit,” I rubbed my forehead, realizing how intense my headache was. “I need some explanations.”
He sipped on what looked to be a glass of whiskey. His eyes met mine. “So, ya really don’t remember, do ya?”
“I was driving, and there was this-”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I’m talking about before before.”
“I don’t understand,” I rubbed my temples.
“You’ve been here before, Ophelia.”
I gave a long, slow nod. I hated how much the name felt natural. It felt like it had always been my name.
“I figured as much.”
“But you don’t remember.”
I shook my head. “Why can’t I just leave this town? And how did I end up in your house?”
Despite my best efforts, I felt the pressure of tears build behind my eyes. The dream–or memory–disturbed me immensely.
“You ran off the road during the storm. Luciana and Alvaro found you and brought you back to town. I…well, I figured that maybe you needed more of an explanation than either of them could give,” he said as he sipped his drink.
“Why the hell did Varo bring me here?”
“He brought you here because he was asked to.”
“By who?”
Coyote leaned back in his chair and seemed to think for a moment before answering.
“I’ve never had to explain the full truth of this place,” he said. “And I think maybe it’s something that would be easier to show you than to tell you.”
I said nothing as he set down his glass and stood up. He walked across the small living room to a bookshelf against the back wall. The shelf was filled with all kinds of desert-themed memorabilia. Dried cholla sat beside a taxidermied Gila Monster. A collection of identification books sat on the bottom shelf.
Coyote grabbed a cigar box off the shelf. The branding on it was too worn with age to make out. He walked over to where I sat and simply handed me the box.
I held it in my hands for a moment, wondering if it was something I really wanted to open. I felt my heartbeat begin to quicken, and my headache throbbed.
“Just open it, kid,” Coyote sat back down.
Carefully, I opened the lid. A collection of old photographs was piled high in the box. I lifted them out of the box and began to examine them. The ones on top were Polaroid pictures from what looked to be the 1990s.
They were pictures of the town, the buildings, and the people. People smiled and laughed and went about their lives. There was nothing particularly strange. However, I found it odd when I found a picture of Coyote. He looked the same as he did now.
I continued to flip through the pictures. I stopped when I found a picture of Carmen. She was smiling, holding some kind of toad in her hands. The realization that my dreams were not dreams but memories hit me.
“I know her,” I said quietly.
“Carmen,” Coyote gave a slow nod. “She was a good woman. Knew everything there was to know about the plants and animals of the desert.”
I kept flipping through the photos, seeing people I had seen in town. I saw a picture of Alma from the motel and pictures of the men at the bar. Leon was in many of the pictures, looking stoic against the landscape.
As I looked, time was going backwards. Early 90s faded to late 80s and 80s faded to the 70s. When I discovered a picture dated with the year 1965, I stopped.
The picture was a picture of Coyote. He stood in front of an old car, new at the time. He was grinning. However, he was no younger than he is now. He had the same weathered face.
“You…” I didn’t know how to ask the question.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’ve been here a while.”
I kept flipping, but this time more vigorously. Alma, Carmen, Leon, and the others in the photo never aged. They all looked perfectly preserved at the age they were.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Do you notice anything else odd about the pictures?”
I looked through the collection again, searching for something off. I had been so disturbed by the lack of aging that I hadn’t noticed something just as strange. The Watchtower was not in a single picture. It should have been. From the angles of many of the photos, The Watchtower should have been in frame, but it wasn’t.
I felt sick again. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and my skin prickled at the realization.
“None of us know the full truth,” Coyote said. “But that thing is not of this world.”
His words only made my anxiety spike. I looked up to meet his eyes. “Tell me everything.”
Before Coyote could respond, the door to his cabin opened suddenly. Lu walked in without any hesitation. She shot a cruel glance towards Coyote before meeting my eyes. She rushed up to me and knelt in front of the couch as if I were a startled animal.
“Harper,” she said quietly. “You need to listen to me. The storm has cleared. There’s a van parked out front–take it and leave.”
I blinked. “Lu, I-”
“You’re not safe here.”
“Do you know…about all this?” I gestured to the pictures.
“I know enough to know that this place is fucked.”
“Why did Varo bring me back here?” My voice sounded weak, but I didn’t have the energy to care.
“He was trying to make a deal with The Watchtower, but it doesn’t make deals. You need to leave now.”
I looked at the pictures and then over at Coyote. He didn’t seem worried about Lu’s sudden intrusion.
“If you try to leave, The Watchtower will only stop you,” he said slowly.
“At least let her try,” Lu hissed.
She stood and glared at Coyote. Anger and fear were etched into her young features.
“She did try,” he replied in a slow, calm manner. “People don’t leave Judgment.”
“Bullshit,” Lu replied. “Harper left years ago. So did Varo and I.”
“And look where you all turned up,” there was a deep sorrow in his words.
“Only because Varo dragged her-”
“So, you didn’t feel a pull to come back here?” Coyote looked at me.
I felt heat rise to my face. “I…I don’t know.”
But I did know. From the moment I researched Judgment, I felt a draw. Something strange and ancient had taken hold of me, begging me to go to Judgment–to the Watchtower.
Lu was beginning to pace the room. Her combat boots echoed through the space. She shot an angry look at Coyote.
“You’re trying to say that if we all leave, we’ll end up back here?”
“Or dead.”
Lu looked at me. “I…maybe you should try…I…I don’t know what they plan to do, but… this place…” She was at a loss for words, but I understood.
I stood up, feeling like I wasn’t sure what to do anymore. I couldn’t keep sitting there talking to Coyote and Lu.
I needed to go to The Watchtower.
I needed to remember.
I left the cabin, hardly noticing that I wore nothing on my feet. Lu called something after me, but I wasn’t listening. The air was no longer filled with dust and sand. Instead, it was blindingly blue and sunny.
I heard Coyote say to her, “Let her go. There are things she’s gotta remember.”
Coyote’s cabin was just behind the auto shop. So, it was a short walk through town towards The Watchtower. I gazed up at it as I walked down the dusty road. The storm had coated every surface with a thick film of dust and sand. The air felt dry and brittle in my throat, but my entire being was focused on The Watchtower.
It loomed over the town. I imagined the photos where it was gone and wondered how that could be possible. Coyote had said The Watchtower was ‘not of this world’ but what did that mean?
In any other circumstance, I would have written this off as some strange hoax. However, I couldn’t ignore the feeling. The Watchtower was alive; it had a heartbeat of its own that I could feel beneath my bare, dusty feet.
It called to me.
I walked through town until at last I was where my most recent memory had taken place. This time, there was no crowd behind me. I stood alone, facing the great structure, and felt an overwhelming sense of otherness. This thing wasn’t natural. It wasn’t a part of the landscape or even something made by the hands of man.
I stood in front of The Watchtower for an undetermined amount of time. Time didn’t matter in Judgment anyway. I could stand here a million years, and likely, I would be the same as I am now. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
My eyes lowered on The Watchtower, to the crack in its base. It was an entrance—that much I knew for certain. I went in there years ago and came out bloody and terrified. I don’t remember what I saw there or what happened to me, but I felt a pain deep in my lower abdomen.
Read Chapter Six