Jumper

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. This time of year, the sun dipped low enough to disappear but true darkness never came. Sparks leapt from the mossy ground with each step Layla took in the deceitful dusk, lighting her way through the trees as she hiked up the path to the road.

She shouldn’t be here. “Working late, don’t wait up,” she’d texted her husband once again. If he knew, he’d have her committed.

She reached her old red Civic and peeled off a flake of paint before unlocking the door. With a last look at the forest and the violet clouds bouncing above it, she sighed and returned to their two-bedroom condo.

“You were late again. They’re going to notice soon,” Sidney’s muffled voice drifted through the gray cubicle wall. When Layla didn’t reply, the squeaking of an office chair and hurried heeled footsteps followed. Sidney’s blonde bob poked into the tiny space. “Layla, did you hear me? I can’t keep covering for you. I’m running out of places you could be hiding in this building.”

Layla’s forgotten coffee had gone cold. She waved a hand over it until steam twirled around her fingertips, then took a sip. “I’m sorry, Sid. I’m just having trouble falling asleep, so mornings are rough.”

“Randy’s coming to check on you right at eight o’clock tomorrow. Be here!” she hissed.

Layla’s eyes wandered back to the spreadsheet open on her monitor. The numbers stared back with equal enthusiasm. She’d need to remember to finish her coffee if she was going to make any sense of them. Sleep tugged at her harder with every sheet she tabbed through, so she finally propped her chin on her fist and closed her eyes.

She was falling, the full-spectrum rainbow of the Aurora’s lights swirling around her. At the bottom, there was a glow-

“Layla!”

Her head snapped up, eyes falling on the black monitor. Shit.

“Miss Morrison, if you cannot stay awake, you have no business being here. Let’s have a chat in my office. Now.”

She slid out of her chair and followed her rotund boss through row after row of cubicles, each one occupied but nearly silent save the occasional keyboard clicking. The quiet spell knitted into the space pressed in on her, the hum of the muted world building pressure in her ears. To anchor herself, she focused on Randy’s chubby red neck bulging out between his too-tight collar and his thin hairline.

Silently, he gestured for her to sit. His office looked just like the rest of the facility; no décor allowed with the exception of one desk plant. Randy’s was alive at least; Layla’s neglect had killed hers off weeks ago, the stiff brown stems poking up from the rim of the drab gray pot.

“Miss Morrison,” he started then paused. “When you started, you were one of my finest performers. I don’t know what’s happened with you, but this is your one and only warning. You are to be here from eight to five. You will take your lunch at noon, and you have exactly thirty minutes. And you will complete your daily numbers, and they will be error-free. Understood?”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry, it’s just that my husband-”

A fat-fingered hand shot up between them. “Your life outside of here is to remain outside of here. I’m sending you home today, and docking a day of sick pay from your bank. Come back tomorrow refreshed and ready to work.”

Layla nodded and made for the door.

“Miss Morrison.”

She paused, turning her head back to him.

“It’s this or the factory for someone with your qualifications in this town. You might want to think about that on the way home.”

Nodding again, she turned and stalked back through the monotonous rows. Sidney’s face popped up from behind her wall with an expectant look.

“So??”

“He didn’t fire me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A relieved sigh was all that floated back as they both sat. Layla warmed her coffee again and packed her things for the day. “Sid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where do you think they really go?”

The silence drew out for so long she wondered if her coworker had heard her. “They die, Layla. All of them.”

It was said that less than a quarter of the bodies of those who jumped from the Firefalls were recovered. Layla had always wondered where that statistic came from; no one ever jumped with an audience, because if they did, it was guaranteed not to work. So how did anyone know exactly how many jumped?

She pondered the thought as she watched the water plunge over the edge and ignite into heatless flames on its way down. Mark wouldn’t expect her home for hours, and it would be another fight if he suspected she’d had any trouble at work. The pile of orange and red blades of grass she’d plucked grew between her feet while new shoots sprung up in place of their fallen predecessors, starting off green then turning the color of fire within minutes.

She flopped back into the vibrant blades, a small poof of sparks from the moss beneath drifting away from her body. The afternoon sun radiated just enough heat to lull her into a trance, images of a different world dancing behind her eyelids. A different world she knew lay just over the edge of the cliff to her side; most didn’t believe it existed, but she could feel it pulling at her. A world where people truly made their own choices, one she might not be worthy of entering. When the trance turned to drowsiness, she let sleep take her.

The olive-green door of their home shimmered and vanished as she approached, revealing her orange tabby waiting impatiently on the other side. A chorus of meows greeted her as he rubbed against her legs.

“Mark?” she called. “I’m home.” No answer, as usual. She found him in the living room playing video games, also as usual. She stepped between him and the television.

He waved a hand by his ear, breaking the audio connection to the game. “Hey babe, didn’t hear you come in. Are you cooking dinner soon? I’m starving.”

Before she finished rolling her eyes, he had resumed the connection and was talking to someone she couldn’t hear. Since Mark lost his job two months ago, this was routine. They hadn’t had a proper conversation in weeks. “My day was fine, thanks for asking,” she muttered to herself before going to the kitchen.

The pantry was empty, as was the fridge aside from a few things that took some effort to cook. She pulled out a tube of ground beef, ran a hand over it to thaw it, and dumped it in a bowl. She kneaded the squishy meat, heating as she did, until it was cooked through. She washed her hands, threw some in two bowls, and plunked one down on the coffee table in front of Mark. His focus on the game broke and he looked at her incredulously.

“Seriously? Plain ground beef?”

“Yep. Plain ground beef,” she replied before climbing the stairs to the spare room.

Gazing out past the manicured lawns of the complex, she shoveled her own plain ground beef into her mouth and grabbed a book to occupy her mind. Before she could take out the bookmark, stomping footsteps approached her from the stairs.

“Layla!” Mark yelled. “You haven’t been here in days and you expect me to eat this?”

“I’m not the one sitting at home playing video games all day. Though, that might change the way today went! I might just get myself fired too!”

“WHAT?!” Mark roared.

“I’m not doing this anymore. I’m done, Mark.”

She pushed past him and ran down the stairs, jumping through the barely-vanished front door jogging to her car. She barely had the door closed when Mark flew out after her, sliding to a stop in the gravel of the driveway and tugging on the handle.

“Open it, Layla!”

She threw the car in reverse as the window was shattered by an invisible force. Mark threw up his hand again, blowing a front tire. Layla slammed on the gas and got out of range, bumping awkwardly down the road on three tires and a rim.

He wouldn’t follow her, that much she knew. When she got to the top of the path she’d visited nightly for nearly a month, she left the car in neutral when she exited. Gravity did the rest, pulling the beat-up Civic down the hill slowly at first, then faster and faster until she heard a monumental crash suggesting it collided with more than just a tree. When silence fell and no cursing or screaming ensued, she followed the path down to the Falls, sparks burning like embers wherever she stepped.

Wading into the knee-deep water, she had a surprisingly easy time reaching the proper island for the jump. The dancing purple clouds began to gather above her. After checking to make sure she was alone, she recited the words that would invoke whatever powers would decide her worthiness to swap worlds.

“I am Layla Morrison, and I give myself to the Firefalls,” she called out over the edge with all the strength she could muster, trying to keep the shakiness from her voice after seeing the hundred-foot drop from this angle. “I desire to enter the Other World, if I am deemed worthy.”

She took a deep breath and jumped.

“Layla?” A voice glided past her ears. Mechanical beeping tickled the edges of her consciousness before becoming clear, and a hospital room came into focus. “Layla?” the voice inquired softly again.

A man’s face loomed over her. It was familiar – like Mark’s face, but this one seemed…. cleaner. “Mark?” she asked.

His smile gleamed. “You almost drowned in the river, honey. You hit your head really hard and your arm is broken, but you’re ok.”

“Am I… home?”

“No, you’re at the hospital. Like I said, you-”

“No I mean is this where I live? This place, this life, this… this…” The panic rose within her as words failed and she began panting.

His face fell as her breathing quickened. “It’s ok, babe. You’ve been out of it, but, hold on…” He jogged to the door and hollered into the hallway “I need a nurse please!”

A beautiful blonde nurse materialized next to her. Layla would have recognized the blonde bob and high cheekbones anywhere. “Sidney!” she exclaimed.

The woman didn’t respond as she methodically rifled through the drawers next to the bed, pulling out supplies.

“Sid, it’s me,” Layla tried again. “It’s Layla.”

The nurse finally gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Hi there again, Layla. I’m just going to give you some medicine to help calm you down, ok?”

“I don’t need it, I’m fine, really-”

“The doctor said she’d be better this time, it’s been long enough, do you really need to put her out again?” Mark was rambling frantically.

The nurse stuck the needle into Layla’s IV. Her body began to float off the bed, and the edges of the room dissolved into darkness. “Mark?” she asked, but couldn’t tell if the sound left her mouth. “Are we…” His face vanished as the darkness took her.

The beeping interrupted Layla’s dream of falling through a rainbow toward a glowing light. A vague sense of panic made her heart stutter, and she shoved it back. She kept her eyes closed as sounds became clearer; no voices shared the room with her, but one came through the TV perched high up on the wall.

“Layla Morrison is still in critical condition after a suicide attempt,” the reporter was droning. “Witnesses who were hiking in the area claim they saw her run into the river, shout her name from the top of Waxahachie Falls, then dive over the edge.”

Her eyes popped open at the mention of her name. The thin, dark-skinned woman in an expertly tailored cream suit was standing next to the Firefalls; only they didn’t look like they were on fire at all. The water was clear and serene before it roared over the edge with no burning orange light igniting it as it plummeted. The grass was as green as a lime, the sky in the distance behind her a placid blue. It all looked… well, extraordinarily ordinary.

The reporter continued. “The two men were able to pull Morrison from the water, but said she appeared to have severe head trauma and did not regain consciousness. We have received no word or comment from the Morrison family at this time.”

The camera cut to a scruffy middle-aged man. “She didn’t look upset at all before she jumped,” he said. “She looked… like she thought she could fly or something.”

Sidney entered the room in her usual hurried fashion, talking quickly with a younger nurse following at her heels.

“Since this patient is experiencing psychotic delusions- Oh, Layla, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Layla smiled cautiously at her. “Much better, thanks.” Her eyes dropped to Sidney’s badge. The picture was right, but the name under it said Kelly Blackburn. “Kelly,” she said warily, “Can I please have some water? And maybe some tea?”

The nurse beamed, and her countenance lifted. “Absolutely.” She nodded to the other woman, who scurried off.

Sidney or Kelly, whoever she was, checked her vitals and began asking questions.

“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Layla? Can you tell me what your husband’s name is? What town are we in?”

Layla knew she didn’t have the proper answers Sidney/Kelly was looking for to many of the questions, so she gently shook her head rather than offer up something that would be deemed crazy.

Sidney/Kelly placed a hand on hers. “That’s ok. It’ll take time. Last question, then I’ll let you get some rest. Do you know why you jumped from the waterfall?”

Layla took a deep breath and thought carefully about her next words. “I got overwhelmed. I can’t remember why. But I really wasn’t trying to hurt myself, I know that much.”

The other nurse returned with an ice water and a disappointingly lukewarm tea. Layla let her fingers dance over it, but no steam rose from the cup. She frowned and tried again, without success. She looked up to find both nurses were watching her suspiciously.

“Sorry,” she stammered. “I… Um…”

“Oh! I’m sorry, is it not warm enough?” the younger one piped up. “I’ll go fix that.” With another apology, she disappeared with the tea.

After a normal-looking brain scan and a few days of playing the game correctly, she was released with orders to attend sessions at a rehab facility several times a week. Mark led her outside to a sleek, very expensive-looking matte black coupe. Layla schooled her face into indifference. They rode in silence for several minutes, winding through the thick forest.

“I’m having trouble remembering, must have hit my head pretty hard,” Layla started. “Do I have a job?”

Mark placed a warm hand on her thigh and smiled sympathetically. “It’s ok, the doctors said it’s going to be a long road until you’re recovered. Rehab will help. And yes, you do. You work at Landers, the big accounting firm. You’re pretty high up the food chain there, babe.” His tone was proud.

“And my boss... Is his name Randy?”

Mark barked out a fake laugh. “Randy was your old boss. When you got the job at Landers, you flipped him off as you walked out.” He laughed again, but with genuine humor this time.

She had done it. Despite the accidental witnesses to her jump, she had actually done it. She smiled to herself.

“Yes, I remember,” she lied and chuckled softly. She knew her real memories would forever be her secrets to keep.