R.J.'s already parched tongue blistered with the thick, chemical taste of plastic.  The urge to gag and expel the object holding his jaw open was held at bay by his inability to move.  His whole body felt bruised and swollen.  The withered puffs of cotton that his eyes had become, tracked the doctors and nurses, who busied themselves with the readouts on the machines.

In his post-surgery stupor, the hum and beeping of the monitors took on a methodical purpose, like Morse code being sent from a distant star or an android's lullaby. 

A nurse caught him watching her and came over.  She checked something on his arm and said, "Get some rest, hon."

"He's fighting it," a woman said.

A man answered, "He'll be out...."  His voice faded into a strange yodeling: "Soo-ooo-oh-oh-oh."

The wavering sound yanked R.J. deep into a pit.  He forced himself up out of the darkness.  As he rose up and broke the surface, a deep, desperate gasp was stopped by the tube running down his throat.

A different man spoke, "...if he makes it through the..."

R.J.'s eyes burned with searing pain.  They were so tired.  He was so tired.  He rested them for a second and when he opened them again, everyone was gone.  He was strapped to a metal slab in some basement.  The lights flickered in the constant staccato rhythm of a dying fluorescent tube, but he couldn't see where it was coming from.  Why was he down here?  Was it the morgue?  Had he died? 

Despite the seriousness of the question, R.J. was unable to muster up anything more than minor curiosity on the subject.

It was cold and quiet down here.  Peaceful.  Nothing hurt.  It wouldn't be so hard to stay here forever.

Blackness.

There was a sway to the table beneath him.  A gentle rocking that matched the sounds of waves.  Water was gently lapping against the side of the boat.  Why had he thought he was lying on a table?

"Are you okay?" Mila asked.

Feeling foolish, R.J. sat up on the deck and yanked out the SCUBA regulator from his mouth.  "Yeah, fine.  Just a little tired."  The bright sunshine burned his eyes.

Mila was leaning against the port bow.  Her hip rested on the ledge as she stared out at the water.  He pulled himself to his feet and joined her.  He hesitated to put his arm around her, afraid she might disappear at the touch.  The feeling of her body under the fabric of her shirt awoke a strange, deep emotion. He worried if he gave in to it, he would fall to his knees with his arms wrapped around her waist and weep.

"I love afternoons like these," she said. 

Lake Champlain shimmered like crumpled tin.  The wind carried the smell of the pines and the earthy scent of the forest.  If he were an artist, he would paint this scene.  He would put the painting over the window in his living room, so every day could end this way.

The boat was bobbing on the waves all alone with nature.   There wasn't a soul in sight.  "It's so beautiful.  So empty," R.J. said no louder than a whisper.

"Don't worry.  We'll track it down."

He hadn't meant it that way.  R.J. saw the emptiness as a sign of tranquility, not their failure.  They'd been trying to find evidence of the lake monster for months.  He should have been discouraged by their lack of success, but he wasn't.  They were never going to find anything here and that didn't bother him.  Amy was out there somewhere and that washed away all the disappointment.  He wanted to tell Mila this wonderful news but it was a secret.

Shhhh, Maxwell mouthed from the shadows of the wheelhouse and then turned and vanished.

"It's out there," Mila continued.  "It's just like those old maps: here there be monsters."  Her laugh crinkled her nose changing her face from poised to carefree.  He saw that look less and less.  Even at this young age, the humor was dying in her.  Soon the cute girl he fell in love with would be gone and he would be left with a very serious, beautiful woman—a woman who sometimes scared him with her determination and ruthless pragmatism.

His gaze shifted from studying her out to the water.  The lake extended forever.  The vista was so vast and breathtaking that details faded away leaving a single image, like the face of God.  To prevent himself from becoming overwhelmed by it, his eye sought out items smaller in scale but just as brilliant: a single leaf from a tree on shore, glinting in the golden sun; a ripple in the water of a fish near the surface; a cloud tossed by the wind, looking for just a second like a running wolf.

"They were wrong, Mila."  He stared at the horizon and all the beauty and emptiness in between.  "They wrote that to ward people away from the things they didn't understand.  They marked it on the edge of the known world and condemned the unknown as monsters.  But that's not where the monsters are.  The monsters are all around us pretending to be our friends, our coworkers, ordinary people on the street.  No, they shouldn't have written that on the edges of the map.  They should have written it in huge letters across the top."

A hand pressed against his shoulder sending a dull pain through his body.  He opened his eyes to a dim hospital room and a nurse looking down at him.  She made a cooing noise as she adjusted the sheet tucked under his arms.

"Calm down.  Try not to speak.  Everything will be alright."

***

The ocean surged against the rocks in great milky waves.  There was a grayness to the sea and sky that could only exist in winter.  The cold gusts of wind were filled with the smell of salt.  Amy sat with her back to the forest on the frigid, hard ground by a small tidal pool.

Somewhere behind her Ylva stood.  She hovered there on the rocks at the edge of the beach, as though tethered by the boundaries of the forest.

Amy didn't look back at her.  "Thank you for coming when I called," she said trying not to sound sullen about her submission.  She still didn't like the woman but she was grateful for being alive.

"You are a stupid girl."  Ylva's voice cut through the stormy winds, penetrating deep into Amy's head.

"No, I'm not.  You're just angry because I locked you away."

Ylva's laugh fell somewhere between a cackle and a sigh. "Emotions have nothing to do with it.  I called you stupid because you are.  You said, 'I came.'  Tell me, where do you think you are?"

"On the beach, by the magic woods."  Amy idly ran her fingers through the pool.  The water was warm and thick on her hand.

"The magic woods.  And where is that?"  From the sound of her voice, it felt like Ylva was walking in wide circles around her, but she never came into view.  It was disorienting, as though the earth was revolving, conspiring to keep her from sight.  "Is it under your bed?  In your closet?  Or do you magically transport over to Norway, where this Ylva person came from?"

Amy felt the pressure of her frown on her face, as she thought about this. 

The woman continued to circle.  Even without seeing her, Amy sensed her angry strides.  "And why you insist on calling me the name of a grandmother you never met, I will never understand.  Are you just going to sit there and sulk like a baby?  Come, you must have a guess."

"It's a dream."

"You're getting warmer."  The words came close to her ear.    

Amy looked over her shoulder expecting to see Ylva leaning toward her, but she wasn't there.  "It's a dream world—like in A Neverending Story."

"Oh, much colder."  There was a scolding harshness to her words.

Amy splashed the water in the tidal pool.  Her hand took an angry swipe sending a spray across the stones.  It was childish but she didn't care.

"Where are your dreams, girl?"

"Inside my head."

"Hmm, getting warmer.  Hot, even.  But then, I did give you a hint.  Now, here's a new riddle for you: where am I?  Now, this should be easy, even for you."

Amy's hand plowed into the seawater sending a spurt back into her face.  The bitter but pleasant taste of salt trickled across her lips.

"You're saying none of this is real."

"Well done," Ylva said in a condescending tone.

"You're not real."

A deep exaggerated sigh echoed across the beach.  "Cold, again.  I told you once who I was, but you didn't listen.

"No more riddles.  Who are you?"  Amy screamed clamping her eyes closed with rage.  Why did she have to make this so difficult? 

"Only you can answer that.  But I'll give you another hint: you're asking the wrong question.  You're understanding of the world is infantile.  Me, you, them.  Here, now, there, then. Everything neat and compartmentalized."

"You act so smart.  But I can put you back in that ring if I want.  I should put you back.  You don't belong here." 

"That is the first accurate thing you've said.  I don't belong here."  Amy wasn't sure how to react to that but before she could say anything, Ylva continued, "Not yet, anyway. This is your time Amy, but mine will come.  You can't live in the present forever."

Amy opened her eyes to find herself back in the bunker.  Back in her room.  Smashed furniture and bones lay all around her.  She sat with her back pressed against the remains of her bed.  Idly, she continued running her fingers through the blood that was covering the floor.

***

Author's Note: This is the end but the book is not quite over. There will be an Epilogue coming very soon.

I thought it was important to end the main story with R.J. and Amy. I hope the parallelism of water and dreams in the two scenes worked and didn't feel repetitive. I hope in the end (and especially after the epilogue to come) you will feel that there have been as many answers as cliffhangers.