“Why did you go to the bridge? Don’t you think I would have done the same?” The spirit scolded him properly, as a business owner correcting his new hire.
The woman wrinkled her brow. “Alexander?” she called out. Then, she smiled. “Yes. You would.”
She held an arm out, keeping the other creatures off the bridge. They backed away obediently. As she approached, Simon could see that she was bald save for the two long locks of hair on her temples and the flow of hair over her back.
Simon patted his coat pocket. The flask was still inside.
The woman smiled. “Take off your jacket.”
“Don’t do it,” the spirit guide chided. Alexander. She called him Alexander.
Simon slid casually out of his jacket. “Or else what, Alex?”
“DON’T you talk to me like that.”
The woman smiled, her arm still extended. The others had fully backed off of Gemini Bridge. “Put your coat down.”
Simon dropped the coat. The woman lowered her head but kept her eyes focused on his. The awkward angle made her smile appear sensual, if predatory.
Simon stepped backward over the water.
“Alex is no guide.” She spoke matter of factly, blinking prominently to enhance what remained of her femininity. “He was a zealot in life. He used to preach that guides don’t exist, didn’t you Alexander?”
“Shut her up,” Alexander replied.
“Shut up Alexander.” Simon turned his focus from the woman to his jacket. To move left or right would bring death. To move forward would bring death. To move backward would allow Alexander to torment him until the end of his days. Simon’s hopelessness swam in through his thoughts like a flood of hard liquor.
“Give us the flask back, Simon. Of course, your can’t be the same. I think I would like to have you around.” Her smile grew softer, more inviting.
Simon stepped forward. He picked up his jacket, holding the cuffs in his fist and the collar between his fingers and thumb. He thought that if the woman could own his body with her smile then she would have, right at that instant.
She stepped closer. Simon let the collar drop, holding his tweed jacket by the cuffs. She held out her hand. He swung the jacket like a weapon.
Then, his cheek was bleeding. She had struck him, and struck him again. He had a moment to register pain in his stomach before her knee sent his head lurching back. He swung his empty fists, missed his mark, and felt her hands against his thighs.
She made one indecent noise at Simon. Then, she lifted him over the rope bridge and sent him toppling to his fate.
He died wondering what was in the unassuming steel flask, and hoping never to meet his spirit guide in the next life.
