Trending Up #2
Still, if one of them gets too close to Marlo, I won’t hesitate.
I hurry upward, gritting my teeth and pushing past the strain of all this excess weight—my daughter cradled in one arm and my shotgun held in the other.
Around and around we go as the stairs double back on themselves until, finally, we emerge onto the boarding platform.
It sticks out from the building, a large cement landing featuring two indents where the hanging gondolas rest before departure.
You’d be in a world of hurt if you fell.
It’s a coin flip whether you’d die on the rocks below, but you’d certainly break a few bones.
To our right is a long stretch of glass-paneled doors, and through them lies the loading zone. During operating hours, this now quiet space would be crammed full of excited passengers, but currently it’s not nearly as bustling.
It’s not entirely empty, though. As Marlo and I peer inside, our gaze is met by three lookouts. Two of them are holding machetes, and the last one is none other than Alison, the PI. She’s still gripping the power drill in one hand.
A brief pause hangs between us, then Alison shrieks at the top of her lungs, “They’re here!”
From this position on the loading platform I have a wide-angle view of the building’s various rooms. The lights are still dim, so I can’t make out the details of any particular figure, but what I do observe is movement—a lot of movement.
My brain is moving at lightning speed, immediately recognizing there’s only one option left.
I leap into the gondola, then set Marlo down as I begin frantically searching through Noah’s keys. I’ve seen him operate this thing a thousand times before, and while I wasn’t aware there’d be a life-or-death pop quiz one day, I feel like I picked up just enough of the important stuff.
The gondolas here are much more futuristic than one might imagine, updated years ago and transformed from the tiny old-fashioned boxes you’d see zooming up and down the mountainside in a James Bond classic to a larger, rounded vessel with windows around the whole perimeter.
This offers a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, not a bad spot in the tram, and it slowly rotates as it soars upward.
There are no seats, just some handrails and four sturdy poles to hold for balance, as well as a central console that serves as the control panel for each cable car.
You could probably fit twenty people in this thing if you really crammed in tight.
I step into the central hub, greeted by a wall of buttons and flickering lights.
Noah’s lift key is easy to find, marked with a blue plastic cover, and I push it into the slot just as a startling crash rings out.
Glass cascades across the cement landing as people leap through the broken lobby doors, spilling out onto the platform and rushing the gondola.
As I crank the key our vehicle fires up, sending a signal to the engine room and then beginning our ascent with a mighty lurch.
One belligerent pursuer has managed to sprint ahead of the others, pumping his arms and legs as he rockets toward us at full speed.
As the gondola pulls away, he makes a flying leap, slamming against the side of the vehicle but unable to grab hold.
His body tumbles out of view, followed by a sickening crack just a few seconds later.
I grab Marlo and pull her close, ducking down as something I think is a thrown hammer strikes one of the windows. A spiderweb of cracks erupts across the glass.
Fortunately, the chaos subsides as we make our ascent, drawn skyward at an incredible speed. The words gondola and tram always make me think of an easy, casual journey, but our takeoff feels more like a thrill ride, pulled along by a massive cable that hangs some two hundred feet in the air.
I’d expected our view of the rocks below to be mostly obscured by darkness, but the vehicle features a downward spotlight that illuminates this scene with its soft glow.
Marlo and I stay perfectly still in the dim light of our cab, embracing in silence as the sweet sensation of relief gradually works its way through us. There’s a long moment of blissful rest as we rise out of the canyon, my heart slowing from its frenetic gallop and my breath gradually softening.
We watch as the distant city lights begin to peer over rocks and crags, twinkling in the darkness.
“Oh, whoa,” I sigh.
In the back of my mind, I recognize that Eddie is still out there.
I also know the mob could probably halt or reverse our tram from below, although it might be hard to stop those massive gears without some technical understanding.
Yes, there’s plenty that could still go wrong, but right now I’m so infinitely grateful for the things that have gone right.
All this death and destruction has led me to the only place that matters: wherever my daughter is.
And—of course—I’m grateful for the subtle lighting that shrouds my mutilated face.
Faint, twinkling piano music drifts across my ears, immediately causing my body to tense up. It’s the opening chords to “A Star Like Me” by Eddie Michaels. Shit.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Marlo whispers, noticing the way my body has registered this sound. “They always play music.”
She’s right. I forgot that every trip up the mountainside comes with a one-or two-song accompaniment, usually a classic rock soundtrack to color the already spectacular view.
As we approach the first cable tower I can feel the floor shift under me, the weight of the tram swaying like a massive pendulum.
The cables tighten and then release, heaving the vessel forward with enough momentum that Marlo and I are forced to break our grasp, reaching out and grabbing the nearby rails for balance.
At this point, we’ve rotated to face the steep cliffside, and as we swing back into position, I’m amazed at just how rugged the terrain really is.
Immense crags and boulders have sprung up everywhere, the desert landscape quickly transitioning into a thick Southern California forest. Huge pines are already reaching up from below, and their relative distance from our gondola only serves to show just how high we really are.
We settle again, enjoying the lull between towers as “A Star Like Me” finally kicks into gear with its crashing drums and a wall of triumphant guitars.
Palm Springs and the surrounding desert are now fully visible, stretching out across a remarkably flat landscape in a blanket of beautiful twinkling lights.
From up here, you can really see the way people cluster together, the way we find each other amid the nothingness.
You might say this desire for community is because—as living creatures on our vast, strange planet—we all need love.
You might also say it’s because we all need attention.
I close my eyes, regret flooding through me as I realize all this could’ve been avoided if I’d just taken my attention and pointed it somewhere that mattered.
If I’d stopped focusing on what I thought Marlo needed and started focusing on Marlo herself.
Maybe Noah would still be alive. Maybe Marlo wouldn’t be in danger.
Maybe, in this fictional other life, we could’ve moved somewhere far away and some other sibling would’ve been in tonight’s hot seat.
I’ve looted and desecrated and tarnished memories without a second thought, and I did this by wrapping myself in a flag of love. I said I’d do anything for my family, but I realize now that this was just an excuse. I thought I was helping Marlo for Marlo, but I was helping Marlo for me.
I’ll probably never live it down, but after tonight, at least I understand what I’ve done. Thanks to Eddie, I finally know what it’s like to be on the other side of someone stealing bodies they have no right to.
A sudden jolt snaps me back into focus, surprised that we’ve already reached the second tower. When I glance around, however, I discover that we’re still several yards out.
Through the gondola speakers, Eddie keeps crooning. “I know the road is long, but it’s the path I’m dancing on! Stars aren’t born, they’ve always been, that’s why I’m never really gone!”
I tilt my head up slightly, struggling to hear past the drone of the song and identify a few strange noises that rattle just beneath it. I’m not sure which clacks and scrapes are part of the gondola ride, or artifacts in the recording, or something more.
I hold my breath, listening.
Suddenly, Marlo is ripped from my arms, flying toward the wall of the gondola and slamming against it. She lets out a startled yelp as her body slides up the metal, pulled toward the window by one of Eddie’s barbed tentacles.
I lunge toward Marlo, grabbing her arm with one hand and struggling to aim my shotgun with the other.
From this new angle I can see Eddie’s giant insectoid form perched atop the roof, leaning slightly over the edge as he slips his tentacle through one of the half-open windows.
Marlo shrieks and struggles against the pull of this mighty appendage, held halfway up the wall with her back pressed against the slit.
Her body is pulled so tight that it’s already cracking the glass and bending the metal bars.
I realize almost immediately that I don’t have the physical strength to pull Marlo back in, but I do have a very useful tool.
I let go of Marlo’s arm and hoist the shotgun with both hands, lifting it high enough so that she won’t be close to the barrel when it goes off.
Instead of aiming for the barbed pad of Eddie’s strange tendril, I point halfway up the appendage, pressing my weapon against the window and pulling the trigger.
There’s enough force from the blast to propel our gondola back slightly, glass erupting outward as a brilliant flash illuminates the tramcar in a sparkling plume. The sound isn’t quite as loud as I remember, but that’s probably because my ears are still recovering from the first two shots.