Breakaway

As I drifted through the darkness that drowned me, I could hear his voice from above, muffled and distant.

“Marco, grab on!”

The first thing I did when I awoke was vomit water onto the ice beneath me. It froze on impact. I tried to pick myself up, but my body and clothes were soaked and heavy. Water was trapped beneath my padding. I was holding a hockey stick in one hand, and a puck in the other.

The ice glowed a brilliant blue that breathed in and out of vibrance, illuminating the caverns. Behind me, the tunnel turned upwards at a steep angle, and at its apex was brilliant white light.

Suddenly, I was addressed by a voice that sounded like a hundred voices overlaid with perfect synchronicity.

“You picked a bad time to die.”

I jerked my head straight to see a tall figure looming over me. They wore an ornate tuxedo with a hood that obscured their face. I slapped at the ice to back away, but only succeeded in slipping around foolishly.

“Which is not to say there’s ever a good time, but, you know…”

The figure reached out to help me up. Their casual tone felt contradictory to their deeply unsettling voice, but I accepted their gesture of kindness, and placed my hockey stick into their outstretched hand. They tugged me to my feet with a swift motion.

As I was about to speak, their pocket vibrated.

“I’m sorry. One moment, please.”

They stepped away to answer their call.

“Go for Charon… Yeah, boss... I’m, err, brainstorming… Right… Of course… I’ll have it ready for passage in no time... Alright, you take care now... Alright... Bye.”

Charon returned their phone to their pocket, adjusted their sleeves, and walked back over, speaking faster than I could follow.

“Right, sorry about that. I’m Charon. A pleasure.”

They shook my hand passionately.

“So… I’m dead?”

“Clearly, because here you are.”

I looked around confusedly. “But, where even is ‘here?’”

Charon held both arms out and announced, “This is the River Styx: Passageway to the Underworld!”

Their arms fell limply back down.

“It’s out of order right now, I’m afraid.”

Charon motioned to their ferry, which was on its side and half sealed in ice.

“I can see that…”

“I know this is probably a lot to take in. I can answer any questions you may have.”

I tightened my grip on the items in my hands, as if they were the only things tethering me to reality.

“How did I die?”

“Ooooh, yikes. Any question except that one. I just pilot the ferry. The boss doesn’t pay me enough to care about what you humans do before or after you cross the river.”

I swallowed down hard, feeling like I might hurl again.

“Why is the river frozen?” I asked.

Charon rubbed their hand across their neck and chuckled.

“Don’t know that, either. Could be the sheer chaos of reality. Could be a declaration of war. Or, the boss's brother could be pullin’ another prank. Who knows.”

“The boss… You mean like, god?”

Charon nodded happily, pleased to finally have an answer.

“One of them, yeah!”

I backed away, trembling. I was dead. I couldn’t even pass into whatever came next. I strained to recall what little I learned of Greek mythology in elementary school, but the only thing that came to mind was that pair of sandals with wings that let the wearer fly. Specific names weren’t coming to me, nor were memories of being in class in the first place. I was forgetting my life, and my only reminder was the hockey equipment I died with.

“Could you step aside, please?” I asked Charon politely, and they obliged.

I slid the puck out onto the ice, skated up alongside it, and struck it as hard as I could. It tore past Charon and struck the inside of the ferry with a satisfying crunch that soothed me. As I caught my breath, they clapped enthusiastically.

“Very impressive!” They exclaimed. “I’ve met hockey players aplenty, but that’s the first time I’ve ever seen one in action.”

I retrieved the puck from inside the ferry, and noticed that there was a formidable wooden oar propped up against the vessel’s hull.

“Thank you,” I said. “Wanna give it a shot?”

Charon seemed flustered.

“Oh, no, thank you. No.”

“Come on, it’ll help clear your head,” I said, speaking from experience.

“No. I’m working right now.”

I chuckled. “You mean ‘brainstorming?’”

They propped their arms up against their sides and cocked their head.

“Wha— I— Yes! Very important brainstorming!”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me one idea you’ve had.”

Charon clapped their hands together. “One! Right, well, I’m thinking we could get some sort of big space heater that we could plug in, and...”

I nodded along and smiled smugly.

“Fine,” they said, reaching out a hand, which caused the oar behind me to tremble. I ducked down just in time before it tore through the air. Charon caught it, spun it around like a helicopter blade, and gripped it like you would a hockey stick.

“Let's go,” they said, and we got to it.

Charon kicked my ass on the ice. Their lack of skates hindered them slightly, but they made up for it with the sort of supernatural abilities you’d expect from a mythological being. We used the capsized ferry as a makeshift goal, and took turns defending and shooting on it. Despite being miserably outplayed, I was enjoying myself. I forgot at times where I was, and who I was playing against, even though playing was the only thing keeping me connected to my life.

“I must admit, this is fun,” Charon said as we switched places.

“Exactly. See, not so bad the river froze after all.”

I suppose such a statement was biased, since the river being frozen was the only thing keeping me from the Underworld. For Charon, I struck a nerve. Their next shot was their messiest yet. The puck wobbled through the air, ricocheted off the edge of the ferry, and landed behind a nearby rock outcropping.

“I’m sorry,” Charon said, slumping down against the ferry.

“No worries,” I assured. “Here, I’ll grab the puck.”

As I neared the rocks, I felt a spark of déjà vu ignite a fire in the back of my mind. It burned, and spread, until suddenly it was a complete, roaring memory. I was outside, on a small, frozen pond not far from where my friend Keith lived. The silvery clouds in the sky made everything around us seem diluted. It was a cold, bitter day—perfect for hockey, we thought.

“I’ll grab the puck,” I said.

“Careful, Marco,” Keith warned. “The ice looks kinda choppy over there.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” I said, even though I could feel the surface beneath my feet squeak. I grabbed the puck, and mocked him.

“Oh, yeah, real choppy. Oh no, I’m gonna fall through—”

And that was when I fell through.

I sat next to Charon, handing him the puck.

“I remember how I died,” I said.

“Oh,” Charon responded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I was stupid. That’s all.”

We sat sulking quietly for some time. I could hear Keith again, shouting for me through what sounded like a hundred pillows. His cries were faint, and I thought they were in my head at first. But as I looked back to the part of the tunnel that lurched upward, I realized the shouting was real, and it was coming from there.

“Charon, why has nobody else shown up?” I asked.

Charon shrugged. “Time passes very slowly down here. I usually only ever have one passenger at a time. Nobody else has died, yet.”

“Which means… I just died. Like, just now?”

They nodded. “Essentially.”

I shot up to my feet, and Charon mimicked my motion like an excited little kid.

“It’s not too late. I can still go back.”

“No, you cannot, actually. I would never hear the end of it.”

I looked down at the ice, and at my feet.

“What if I gave you what you need to transport souls across Styx?”

They perked up. “And what would that be?”

I pointed down and clinked my skates together.

“Your feet?” Charon asked candidly.

“I— No, the skates. You can have them. Strap ‘em onto whoever comes down and guide them across the ice yourself!”

They scoffed. “Come now, that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s a temporary fix until the river thaws, or until you figure out how to thaw it. But it’ll work. That’s what matters, right?”

Charon’s pocket vibrated again. They grabbed their phone, and groaned.

“Fine. Stay here,” they said as they answered it and evaporated into thin air.

A moment later, they were back.

“That’s right, boss. I figured out what to do. I’ll… Right… I’ll fill you in later… What? No, I didn’t just swing through the vault. Hermes sandals? No… Uh oh... I’m losing you, bye…” And they clicked the phone off.

“I will certainly be fired for this,” they said, handing me a golden, glistening pair of sandals with little wings hanging off the heels.

“You’ll need these. They’re—”

“I know exactly what they are,” I said with a smile.

I unlaced my skates, took them off, and made the exchange. The sandals fit perfectly, though my feet were colder.

"You'll need this, too," Charon said, handing me the puck, which I refused.

"Keep it. You'll enjoy it more than me."

They nodded, pocketed it, and looked down at my feet.

“Give ‘em a try,” they said. So, I zipped around them in the air, flipping their hood back with a gust of air. To my surprise, they were still just a silhouette of darkness.

“Huh, I…”

They shrugged. “What did you expect? Thomas Edison?”

“No, nobody, I was just curious…”

“I gave passage to Edison, you know. He was a real prick.”

I laughed. “Thank you, Charon.”

“You have my thanks, as well. Enjoy your life, Marco. I look forward to seeing you again, hopefully a very long time from now.”

“Because you'll need the sandals back?”

In Charon’s shadowy features, I could make out the imprint of a smile. I smiled back, turned around, and started on my way. The sandals were unsteady on the ice, but I managed to find my balance, and my speed. The slope was coming up fast. I leapt. Golden flakes streamed from my heels as I ascended. Behind me, Charon waved goodbye. Ahead, I could hear the cries again.

“Marco, grab on!”

Everything was white. I reached out my hand, but there was nothing. I reached out my hockey stick, and I felt a tug, then a heavy pull. Water was filling my lungs again, then releasing, and then the light faded to darkness.

When I awoke, I was in a hospital bed. Keith was slouched over in a chair at my side, resting uncomfortably. When he noticed I was awake, he didn’t say anything at first—just smiled and gave me a gentle hug.

“Hey,” I said.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let us go out there. It was stupid, and I—”

“Come on, stop. Don’t do that. We’re fine. Everything's fine…”

I looked over his shoulder, hoping to see the sandals still on my feet, but they weren’t there.

“Where—?”

“I’m so sorry, Marco. The doctors had to… remove them.”

“The sandals?”

Keith pulled away. He looked confused.

“Sandals? No…”

He lifted the blanket at the edge of my bed slowly, revealing that I wasn’t wearing sandals, or skates, or anything, because there was nothing left for me to wear them on. He started talking about hypothermia, and how I never would’ve been able to use my feet again, and other things that didn’t really matter to me at this point.

I chuckled and murmured something to myself.

“Charon’s gonna be pissed.”