The old white van traveled alone on the dark highway until red and blue lights appeared from behind, blinding Paige as they zoomed past in a bright colorful blur. Astounded by the number of stars shining overhead, she craned her neck out the window. The Milky Way covered the sky in a cloudy smear of speckled light, stalking them as they hugged the curves of the familiar road. This must be how the world looked before electricity stole the show, she thought. Before birds and bees fell from the sky and red dust pollinated synthetic crops, she wondered how ancient civilizations would react if shown a glimpse into the future. Not well, she figured.

Paige rejected her glimpse. Forced to step through a hidden door, she fell into a hole and woke up on the other side to a dying world, and although her distant past spanned less than fifty years, she struggled to grasp the future. Defeated by the cold wind, she bid farewell to the stars and rolled up the window. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and let reality slip away, pretending she was home, beach-bound on a simple road trip and bonded with her closest friends. Gabriel lay asleep in the back, America stood for freedom and liberty, and the natural earth bathed in the miracle of the bees. She imagined herself in the only world she knew where body, mind and soul remained intact at home with the heart.

The gravel road brought her back. Opening her eyes, she sat up in the seat and peered through the window, instantly guarded and on the lookout for wayward clones. Storm clouds plagued the Shady Oak Plantation as a loud clap of thunder shook the van, stirring the backseat riders. Lightning streaked across the sky and the tall stalks of sugarcane whistled in the wind as a white rooftop appeared around the bend, vacant and exposed. The black storm shutters rattled and banged against the side of the house, thrown open as if to welcome the bad weather with bold vulnerability. Paige admired the old house, made more appealing in its state of exposure, abandoned by its master and set free by the spirits; the long pillared porch yearned for bare feet, sleeping hounds and rocking chair elders with long stories to tell. Raindrops cleansed the blood-stained ground and the charred remains of the cottage sat in darkness, barely visible save for a faint reflection of metallic debris buried under the rumble.

Paige slid down from the van as the professor, Michael, Ashley and Abbey followed behind. They walked across the graveled courtyard where the pock-marked statue guarded the mossy fountain, tainted with the robotic remnants of a meddlesome owl. Michael took the lead as they approached the front porch. Climbing halfway up the stairs, he held out his hand and gestured for them to stop. A dull thud sounded from the far end of the porch and grew louder as the slow, repetitive knock drew closer, hitting the wood in a familiar offbeat rhythm. Thump after thump, footsteps followed behind a gold-handled walking cane. Paige gasped and stumbled back into the professor as a tall dark figure appeared on the stairs with glowing green eyes and a yellow fedora hat. His cheeks smeared with blood and dirt, the tall figure gestured for them to come on up.

“Been waitin’ for yuh,” he said, stepping back to let them pass.

Michael crept up the stairs with Ashley by his side, while Paige and the professor followed close behind. Abbey remained on the middle step.

“Seems I’m duh last one standin,” the tall figure said.  “My brothers an sisters all dead, murdered yuh might say, course, your kind don’t see it dat way.”

Standing at the same height with the clone, Michael leaned in closer and scrutinized his face, his eyes, his lips, his bone structure, the arch of his eyebrows–he ran his finger down the outline of his cheek. The clone stood proud, unaffected as Michael reached up, yanked the hat off his head and threw it onto the porch.

“You’re not Vincent’s clone,” he said, “you’re mine. Act like it.”

The clone tossed the walking cane next to the hat, reached up and ran his finger down Michael’s cheek. “And how shall I act?” he asked. Holding his arms out straight, he jumped backwards onto the porch railing and landed flatfooted with only a hint of a wobble. Taking a bow, he stood erect and peered down at them with his glowing green eyes. Michael and Ashley glanced at each other and stepped back.

“Shall I flaunt my beauty on stage? Dread my hair? Shoot some heroin?” Pivoting on his heels, the clone laughed and exclaimed, “I know about you!” Walking backwards, he continued, “Shall I fake my way through college? Earn a degree? Grow a beard? Become a certified burnout? I know about you, too!” Placing one foot behind the other, he continued walking backwards, hopping and kicking his feet like a jester at a queen’s ball dancing for his life. “Shall I decry my maker?” he asked. “Bleach my hair? Chase ghosts from a pointless past? I know all about you, girl!” Placing his hands on the wooden railing, he kicked his feet up into the air and mastered a roundabout, landing flatfooted with his arms extended–he took another bow.

Michael smiled and clapped his hands, “Bravo, Me #2! Where’d you get the medicine?”

The clone grinned and loudly clapped his hands, “Shall I continue?” he asked.

“No, you shan’t,” Ashley answered. “Unless you’d like to join your brothers and sisters.”

Pointing his finger, the clone squatted down and replied, “I know about you too, Ashley. Your dead son would hate what you’ve become. He tried to save my kind, like that one over there.”

Abbey climbed the rest of the stairs and joined them on the porch, pale and glossy-eyed, he wrapped his arms around himself and stood against the wall. The clone cornered him with his glowing green eyes.

“That one over there, he’s just like me.”

Ashley took him down. Before the clone could rest his case or hop to safety with drug-induced acrobatics, Ashley yanked him from the railing and held him down with a crushing chokehold. He meant to kill him. The last of Vincent’s creations, the supposed soulless ones who lacked free-will, he meant to flex his arm and put an end to Frankenstein’s orphaned monster. Paige saw it pour from his eyes and flow through the fat vein that throbbed down his forehead, but while the others stood idly by waiting for the inevitable, she refused.

“Ashley, please!” she yelled. “No more death!”

He glared at her, his cheeks streaked with tears and his small pupils swallowed by infinite sorrow, Ashley finally blinked and released the clone from his grip. Scurrying across the porch, the clone dove for the yellow hat and cane. He jumped at a loud clap of thunder and cowered against the wall with the hat lowered over his face, the cane serving as a long skinny shield. Ashley stepped over him and threw open the front door; the others followed behind. Curled up with his face buried in his arms, the clone lifted his head to see Abbey standing before him. Reaching out his hand, Abbey pulled him to his feet and motioned for him to join them. Slinking behind like a feral cat, the clone crept inside and darted up the curved stairwell disappearing from sight.

The black and white checkered floor spread out before them as they entered the grand library. Paige walked ahead of the others and stood beside the cherry oak desk where Vincent’s box of cigars sat empty. Broken glass and spilled wax covered the floor where the altar candles melted away into colorful swirls of hardened wax. The big white square lay at her feet and she trembled as the others gathered around her.

“Ready, Dorothy?” Michael asked.

She nodded.

“Let’s not waste time on long goodbyes,” he said, “we’ll see each other soon enough.”

Holding up the gold pocket watch, Paige struggled to steady her hands and fumbled with the watch, letting it slip from her fingers and fall to the floor. She cursed herself while Michael bent down to retrieve it. Tapping on the glass face, he held it out for her to take and then yanked his hand away.

“I’m not sure I trust you with it,” he said.

Paige grabbed the watch from his grip and looked it over for herself, tapping the glass, she sighed a breath of relief when the second hand moved down another notch. The preset date at the bottom left corner read October 31, 2001. Her stomach convulsed and digested fear with nauseating efficiency, churning and breaking it down until the potent fluids entered her bloodstream. The dizziness returned. She fought to keep her balance. Michael reached out and pulled her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her frame, he rubbed the middle of her back while she rested her head on his shoulder, shrouded by his long dreadlocks. It’s okay to back out, he said privately, but Paige gently pulled away and shook her head. Smiling, Michael cupped her face and kissed her on the cheek.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s do this thing. The Ghost of Halloween Past is armed and ready to go.”

Paige looked at Ashley and hesitated before hugging him. He appeared defeated, beaten down in his tattered and blood-stained clothing, but she saw the faint glimmer of hope peek through his tired eyes. Tightening her embrace, she privately said, I won’t leave him behind. Ashley squeezed her shoulder and stepped away. Bowing his head, he took his place next to Michael. Abbey stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets, somber and reluctant to speak, he glanced around the room and shifted his weight when Paige demanded his attention.

“Aren’t you going to tell me goodbye?” she asked.

“Why should I?” he shrugged.

She grabbed his shirttail and pulled him into her arms, bothered by the familiar embrace but determined to mask her discomfort. His tall slender frame enveloped her as she closed her eyes and longed for the ocean where sandalwood christened the air. Holding back her tears, she privately said, you don’t inspire grief. Abbey kissed the top of her head and pulled away. His mood ring eyes faded into a soft gray as he held her gaze. Liar, he replied. Paige curbed her stare and looked down, troubled by his unfair disposition. No matter how different his personality or how dissimilar his character, Abbey would never truly be his own person. His curse was his very creation. She struggled to find the right words but there weren’t any, and Abbey knew it; she offered one last attempt, If Gabriel comes back, she thought, there won’t be a need for grief. A green tint darkened his watery eyes and his dull, sulfuric aura mingled with shades of pink. “Only time will tell,” he whispered.

Professor Faraday patted Abbey on the back and sighed, “I’m sure going to miss you, Miss Holland. Who knows, maybe it’ll be like you never left.”

Paige wrapped herself around his waist and cried into his chest. She wanted to take him with her. She wanted him to hold her hand, protect and guide her across the threshold of time. She wanted the deed to be done. The professor cradled her and softly reassured her that everything would be okay, a statement without merit but comforting to hear. Drying her eyes, she looked up and yanked his beard before standing on tiptoe to kiss his exposed cheek.

“I’ll see you in a better time,” she said.

Flitting his eyes, the professor replied, “I’m counting on it.”

Lightning tapped the small circular window positioned high on the far right wall. Silence blinded the room with a freeze-frame of electricity until a crash of thunder shook the building free. Paige jumped and looked at the watch. Preset for eleven o’clock, Halloween night, she wound back the arms and watched the second hand resume its journey. Rubbing her palms on her jeans, she looked down at the large white square and felt her heart merge with her troubled stomach. Lightning crashed through the window. The ground trembled. Michael’s voice replayed through her head, it’s okay to back out.  Positioning her finger on the small round button, Paige closed her eyes and stepped forward.

White noise flooded the room as the library walls crumbled to the floor revealing patches of empty space. Chunk after chunk, another brick fell to the ground and disappeared through the black and white squares. Paige held Michael in her sight, his distorted form illuminated by a brilliant yellow glow that outlined his frame all the way down to his green army boots. A blinding flash erased her vision as a high-pitched ring split the vanishing library. The ground grew soft beneath her feet. She uncovered her eyes to see streaks of bright colors beam through the white light, overlapping and melding into one like an abstract rainbow. She reached out in a knee-jerk reaction but the ground swallowed her whole.

Paige spiraled through the great void and raced through whitewashed space, weightless and disoriented. Moving faster and faster, the rate of her speed threatened to rip her in half as she continued her freefall, struggling to remain intact. A tunnel of stars surrounded her and cuckoo-coo clocks chimed out of tune from every known direction as north became south and east became west, she plunged deeper into oblivion. Consciousness dimmed with the stars. Distorted shapes and muted colors came into view and she clung to the pocket watch with a white-knuckled grip, but the dizziness consumed her. Like the opening of a parachute, her body slowed its pace as a chessboard unfolded and stretched out beneath her feet waiting to catch her fall. The turn of the century welcomed her home, but sleep robbed her of the moment as the gold pocket watch slipped through her fingertips and fell to the floor.