lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Chapter 8

Nothing compares to the freedom of riding a horse until your legs burn, your lungs gasp for air, and the adrenaline makes your blood rush. At least, Max thought that as she rode her horse: Max was flying. Her eyes stung as the air whipped around her and her trusted stallion. She gracefully jumped over hedges and streams of water that littered the forest. Laughter excited her body with a careless joy.

She never wanted to stop.

She never wanted to lose this.

Her gift of going fast and steady on a horse or two feet was treasured. She depended on it. If there was strife or heartbreak in her world, she is confident that she could run away from the problem or towards with the confidence to fix it.

Determined to break her record, she pushed her horse harder, careful not to cause harm. A red light hit her face, disorienting her and causing her to rein in her horse with an unexpected jerk. Her horse spooked at the sudden movement, and she calmed it down.

Max's breath shook. Trying to collect a breath, taking deep breaths. Looking around for that bright red light. Max had never seen any light like that before. It wasn't a fire burning; the light was too vibrant to be that. It had an unnatural intensity. The more she thought about it, the more she grew scared. Her body was locked in place.

The trees began to grow to block the summer sun, casting her in darkness. Her horse began to anxiously move back and forth. The pound in her head became louder and louder, demanding to escape. The trees whispered her name in sinister voices, low and chilling. Max tried to whip back and forth to discern its origin, and her head exploded in pain.

She slumps backwards and falls off her horse. She expected the pain to radiate from her side. But it never came. The ground wasn't there. In its place was a tunnel of darkness.

There's nothing for a long time. There's everything for a short time. Just falling forever.

She wakes to someone holding her, to someone kind. Her hair is brushed with trembling hands. Or is she the one that's shaking? Through bleary eyes, she sees brown eyes.

Max doesn't know how long she stays in Lucas' arms, trying to catch her breath. Her mind was cloudy, but with each breath: more things became clear.

Breath In.

She was dead. She remembered pain and finality. She remembers the twist of broken limbs. She can still feel the hot thick tears of blood warming her dying body.

Breathe Through.

If she's dead, then the world ends or something. Nancy made it pretty clear that her death would have apocalyptic results. Then that means that Lucas, who was still holding her, is dead too.

Breathe Deep.

She didn't think the afterlife, hell or heaven, would be the sticky floors and stale air of Hawkin's arcade. If this was the afterlife. What the hell were those weird memories of that fantasy life? Of the life where Billy lived? Just one last torture before death. What was real?

Breathe Out.

No, that's not right. How can Max breathe: if Max is dead? But if she's alive: why the fuck is she at the arcade? But it didn't seem right. She spent too much time at the arcade to escape her shitty life. It wasn't this dark or quiet. There was always the drone of the machines running. Shrieks of kids and teens as they won or lost. Neon and artificial lighting to trick everyone that it was eternally day. This was a place of decay with the veneer of joy.

Oh.

This wasn't death. This wasn't life. This was an Inbetween. She's just not sure who created it. Was it her? Was it El's? Was it Vecna's? How was Lucas here?

"It was El," Lucas' resolute tone broke her thoughts. Max must have spoken the last question. Lucas continued, his voice rumbling against her body, " She is using her powers to transport me into the Inbetween."

"Why?"

"To find you."

"What happened? I thought I died."

Lucas's face grimaced in devastated pain. Max studies him: his eyes lack their usual sparkle, and gone is the glow about him that appears even during the annual Hawkins-fuckery.

Max felt better, and she sat up and moved across from him, still holding hands.

"You did." His voice choked, "But El did something. It was a miracle. But she couldn't find you."

"Find me?"

"Yeah, she couldn't find you in the Inbetween. So we planned: I would look for you while she used her powers to send me here."

"Oh." Max gets up and dusts off her pants, she stumbles a little, and Lucas eases her. She fights to stay on her feet and face Lucas. She begins to pivot to face the arcade machine she fell back from.

"Well, you found me. What now?"

"I dunno. I guess we will go where I entered."

"Seriously," Max rubbed at her temple: pounding at an increasing tempo, "You did all this without a plan?"

She turned back to the arcade console. She had to finish her level. She was so close.

"Max, are you okay?"

Why was he bothering her? Didn't he know she had to finish the level? The game was all that mattered, and who was he to waste her time?

Lucas shook Max's shoulders; the discordant arcade music had grown in volume and creepiness. And now, Max was back to playing.

He began to pace, trying to come up with a plan. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to pull the plug again. The fear that had coursed and frozen his nerves was enough to last a lifetime. The pain Max had been under. The deathlike stillness had been too much to make her go through again.

He turned back to Max. The machine caught his eye. It was different. Before, it had been a single-player console, the yellow and red barely peeking through the grime. Now it was shiny and new with two consoles. Lucas knew that the arcade had gotten Gauntlet recently, but he hadn't gotten the time to play it, and now he probably wouldn't.

It's most definitely a trap. But Lucas got this far, and whatever trance or spell Vecna has over Max, he has to believe he could fight through it, break or whatever, to get Max out here. He went up to the machine and pressed a button. He was engulfed by a bright light.