Mirror Trick by ayepoet

THUD. It was 1999, and someone was kicking at the door. 

I rolled over in my sleeping bag and saw my brother, Fitz, outlined in the frosted glass.

"It's me!" he shouted through the door.

I unlocked three deadbolts and a chain lock before flinging the door open and almost knocking him off his feet.

"Watch it!" Fitz tried to rebalance the stacked boxes of batteries under each arm as I took some plastic bags from his hands. 

"Whoa," I said, lifting a couple heavy bags onto the kitchen counter. "Did you get a raise?"

His face fell. He looked tired. His dark brown eyes were raw around the edges. He was only eighteen. To my ten-year-old eyes, he was fully an adult, with his scruffy beard and care-worn face. Looking back, I realize he was under too much pressure, too young. "No. Laid off, actually." He sighed. "Should've seen it coming. Busy season's just about over."

A pit of worry formed in my stomach. I looked in the bags. More batteries, some new flashlights. "No Lucky Charms?" I asked, unable to keep the whine from my voice. 

"Sorry, buddy. We still have a lot of MREs left." He'd bought a few boxes of the pre-made meals off the back of a moving truck outside of White Cross. They were disgusting. 

"We don't need this many batteries."

"I don't know when I'll get my next job."

A tension hung in the air. This was a fight we'd never fully had, but it'd been forming between us over the last few months. I was no longer a baby who'd cry over the toys I couldn't get, but the hunger combined with the smell memory of the sour hot sauce and mildewy cardboard made my eyes prick with tears. I let the rage in my chest grow and blinked away any tears.

"It's not fair," I said.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "No, it's not." 

I shoved his hand away and sprinted up the metal spiral stairs to the loft. Technically, we were squatters in the abandoned building. No power, no running water. But plenty of sunlight...during the day.

The loft was filled with mirrors, glittering and flashing images in the sunlight pouring in from the sunroofs and open windows. The mirrors showed many things--militaries marching against civilians, children crying, people protesting.

I picked a mirror up and held it over the railing. "I'll smash it!" 

My brother stared up at me, solemn and compassionate as always.

The mirror was jagged around the edges and I had to hold it carefully so as not to cut myself. I tried to avoid looking at it too closely, but it drew my eyes. As the light from the room danced across its surface, other images appeared over my angry gaze. A white statue holding a torch towered over a crowd of people, who were marching and carrying signs. 

"Not that one," my brother said. 

I'd stared at the mirrors often. I knew what frightening images came next. Just before I turned away, I saw another set of deep brown eyes blinking back at me. That's why we do this, Fitz had said once, when I asked him about the eyes. There are people who want truth. 

The rage in me fizzled a bit. I carefully set down the mirror. "It's not fair," I repeated.

I could see the conflict play out on Fitz's face. "What if we went bottle hunting?"

I groaned. Walking the strip looking for recyclables to cash in was hot, dusty work with little payout. I doubted we'd get enough for a gumball, much less a meal. 

"I'll make you a deal. I'll bring the receipt and we can take back one box of batteries if we can't find enough recyclables to get your Lucky Charms."

"Deal!" I said, skipping down the stairs, thinking about the sugary sweetness of marshmallows. 

***

By the time we got to New York-New York, I was already sweating buckets. There wasn't much shade anywhere, so I just sat near the fake Statue of Liberty while Fitz started looking through a nearby trash can. 

After a while, I followed him from a distance, checking for cans and bottles. A group of people in black with spiky dyed hair wandered by wearing badges with little smiling skulls. One of them nodded to my brother as they passed.
He shook his head at her.

"Alexis Park," she said. "If you change your mind."

As it grew later, Fitz searched more frantically. I knew the last thing he wanted to do was take back those batteries. To risk letting the light go out on any of the mirrors. 

A platinum Jaguar pulled up to the curb next to me. A blonde lady in bright pink lipstick rolled down the car window and looked at me.

Fitz jogged over to me.

"I've seen you boys out here all morning," she said, tapping her long nails against the interior leather.

"Yes, ma'am. We're picking up recyclables," Fitz said, holding the trash bag up. "Nothing illegal."

"You need change?" 

He nodded. 

"What are you going to use it for?" Her accent sounded clipped, maybe even British.

"I'm my brother's legal guardian, and busy season's over, so I got let go from my job at the hotel."

She considered this. "I'll give you ten dollars if you come help setup for a dinner party I'm having tonight."

"We'll be done before dark?"

"Yes."

And with that, we climbed into the back of this rich lady's car. She flipped on a pop station as we drove. A song came on with a thudding electric bass.

"My dear friend produced this," she said, looking in the rearview mirror to check our reactions.

"Wow," Fitz replied, slapping my hand to keep me from messing with the power windows.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to sprawling estate with a green lawn. I'm sure I'd never seen that much green in one place before.

We walked up marble front steps and into a house the size of a casino.

"Holy smokes," I said.

She smiled a little, and picked up a little silver bell from a table and rung it. A maid in one of those old-fashioned maid uniforms appeared. 

"Get the little one a duster," she said. 

The maid nodded and turned, expecting me to follow her. I looked to my brother, who nodded.

"And you," she said, putting her hand on my brother's shoulder, "are going to use those muscles to help me move tables into the garden."

I followed the maid up a winding staircase. At the top of the stairs, she opened a closet and pulled out a cloth. It wasn't like a normal rag. It felt weird to the touch and had tiny bumps on it.

"Do you know how to dust?" the maid asked me.

"Yes," I approximated.

"Good. When you're done upstairs, come down and find me and I'll help you get the ladder."

I took the cloth and wandered into a glittering room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. Matching crystal vases sat on opposite sides of the room holding fresh white roses.

I wiped the cloth along the back of a velvet couch, humming as I explored. A gold box sat on an end table, and I opened it up to find a pile of lemon drops. They were sweet with a soft, melty powder out the outside. 

A gold-handled mirror sat on an end table. I wiped down the mirror, taking care to not leave streaks. If there was one thing I knew, it was how to clean a mirror. 

It was a proper mirror, just reflecting the room and my slightly sticky hand as I gently rubbed the cloth over it. It began to glow slightly under the care. 

The image of a man with a machine gun appeared, and another man with a pillowcase over his head. The man with the gun pulled back a picture to reveal a safe, and began typing numbers into it.

I dropped the mirror with a CRASH. As if in slow motion, I watched it shatter into three pieces. 

I frantically looked around and listened for footsteps. No one seemed to have heard. I cautiously headed out of the room and down the stairs to look for my brother.

In the back yard, there was an Olympic-sized pool surrounded by Grecian pillars. My awe felt threatening now. What else might I break? I didn't belong here, and I felt vulnerable just by existing in this space.

My brother carried folder wooden chairs under his arms and exited a shed.

"Fitz!" I called, running to him.

He could see something was wrong. "What happened?"

I tearfully explained about the mirror.

He smiled slightly when I explained the flash of light. "Show me where you broke it."

I led him quickly back upstairs. "Were you doing anything when it lit up? Thinking about anything?"

"No."

He carefully picked up one of the shards and tilted it into the light. The man with the gun reappeared. 

"Why are you happy?" This place didn't feel safe any longer.

Fitz put his hand on my shoulder. "Because you have a very special skill." He watched as the man typed in the code. 5-9-7-3-2-4. 

"Did bad things happen here?"

Fitz laughed a little. "Where there's gold, there's blood." He stood up and went to the picture on the wall and swung it open to reveal a safe.

"What special skill?" 

Fitz entered the numbers into the keypad. Click. "Mostly we just keep the mirrors alive. But someone first has to gather the truth."

I bent down an picked up another shard of glass. "Is that what I did? I made it show us this?"

Fitz opened the safe. There were stacks and stacks of cash. He handed me a thick collection of 20s, and then shoved the rest into his shirt and pants.

"Let's go."

I followed him down the staircase and out the front door. As soon as we made it past the gate, we started running.

"We'll get a taxi as soon as we're back on a main road," he panted.

It took a while to get out of the winding neighborhood. The sun was starting to go down when we managed to hail a taxi. 

We sat in silence in the back of the cab, unable to believe our luck.

The taxi driver kept looking back at us suspiciously. But we were too happy to care. We were rich, at least partly. We could get every box of cereal in the cereal aisle. Maybe move to a place with electricity and stop needing the batteries.

The taxi dropped us off a few blocks from our house. We rushed in and turned on all the hanging flashlights in the loft, making sure each mirror was illuminated. Then we sat down and started laughing. It was like we couldn't stop. So much stress and fear, and it'd all just melted away. Our problems solved. 

Fitz laid out the money across the splintered wood floor. We ordered pizza and counted it over and over, talking about what we'd do in the morning. Get out of Vegas. Maybe move to Colorado, where it was supposed to be sunny all the time, even when it snowed. I fell asleep dreaming of a cool snowfall covering me like a light blanket. 

I woke up to my brother's hand over my mouth. "Get back here," he whispered, shoving me behind a large mirror. 

Downstairs, I heard someone kick in the door. 

Fitz crouched by the top of the stairs, a heavy flashlight in hand. A man's head appeared, the man from the mirror, peering over the loft floor. WHACK. My brother swung at him with all his strength. 

The man dodged him, then pulled out a gun and shot him in the belly. Fitz fell to the cash-covered floor, bills fluttering underneath him as he groaned.

The man was tall, sunburnt, and had a vicious gleam to his eyes. He noted the mirrors around him.

"Where'd that kid of yours go?" he asked, kicking into a mirror and shattering it.

"Who?" My brother clung to the bleeding hole in his belly.

"Don't worry, I'll find him." The man smashed another mirror.

"Please....don't," my brother begged. "You don't know..."

"I don't know what they are? How important they are?" He laughed. "Of course I do. I've hunted men like you before. Not here, but it's a nice change of pace." He put his foot through another mirror. 

"People like you are a menace. You think you're some do-gooder. But you're a pebble in the shoe of society. Causing blisters and pain where there doesn't need to be any."

Fitz moaned. He was losing a lot of blood. I was so scared I was shaking.

"Take...the money," Fitz said.

"Oh, I will. Don't worry. I was after a thief, but I didn't realize how much I was going to enjoy myself." He flung a mirror to the floor. 

A pair of eyes reflected in the mirror widened just before the crash. Suddenly, the remaining mirrors filled with eyes.

The man stiffened. "You think I care if you see me?" he shouted at the watching eyes. "Y'all are nobody. Just a bunch of nobodies." 

A siren sounded in the distance. It grew closer. 

The man tensed as it came closer and closer. He took a final look at my brother, grabbed some of the cash, and ran out.

As soon as he was gone, I ran to my brother. He was pale, shaky. 

"I'll go down the street and call 911," I said.

"I think they're already on their way." He was taking quick, shallow breaths. "I need you to do something."

"It's my fault. This is my fault." 

"Shh. Don't worry about that. It was my fault." He motioned to a spot on the floor. "Pull up the board there."

I pried away a piece of the flooring. There was a watch, some more batteries, a couple dollars, and a laminated badge.

"Get the badge." 

I pulled out the badge and brought it towards him. A small, smiling skull and cross bones was on it.

"They'll help you. Bring them the pieces, and they can help. But quickly, before anyone gets here and they're gone forever." 

I grabbed the pizza box and shoved a flashlight in it. Then I picked up pieces from each of the mirrors.

"Go!" he said, laying his head back and closing his eyes.

I took the box and ran. I ran and ran and ran. It was like my feet knew where to go, even when I could hardly think. 

By the time I got to the outside of the Alexis Park Resort, it was nearly daylight. The hotel was unassuming. I wandered into the lobby, blood streaked and sweating, carrying an old pizza box with a slight glow around the creases.

I had no idea where to go or what to do. I wandered past a pool, then into a building where I almost crashed into a cleaning cart. I kept going, hoping I would figure out what to do.

Eventually, I found myself in front of a ballroom. I tried the door. Locked. I sunk down to my knees and began to cry. 

I held the pizza box in my arms and sobbed.

"That bad, huh?"

I looked up. It was the lady with red, spiky hair from yesterday. 

I nodded.

She crouched down in front of me. "Hmm." She noted the pizza box, and gently opened up the box. "There is no substitute for sunlight," she murmured, clicking the flashlight off, and arranging the mirror fragments. 

"We did what we could," I said tearfully. 

"Oh, I know, sweetie. You just didn't have to do it alone." 

***

It was three days before they were able to find my brother. His recovery was painful, but he seemed to relax as people came by to bring food and help him change his bandages. The lady with the spiky hair let us stay in her guest room.

I sat on the edge of his bed one night, watching TV with him. "Why do you care so much?" I asked.

He knew what I was talking about. The flashing images of people being hurt. The art of people who wanted things to be different. 

"You've felt it before, yeah? The world should be better."

I nodded. 

"It's not going to get better if the powerful can hide the bad things they do."

"That's why they don't like the mirrors? It shows who they are?"

He smiled. "You sound pretty wise." He watched me for a moment. "Hand me my bag."

I picked his backpack off the ground and brought it to him.

He pulled out a shiny new mirror with a silver frame. "I want to show you something," he said.

"A new mirror trick?"

He just grinned and turned the mirror so I could see it. The surface rippled and glowed, then shifted. He pulled out another mirror from the bag.

"Now hold this one up so this mirror can see it." 

I held them facing each other. The light from silver-framed mirror illuminated the other one. They both glowed and reflected in each other. Then, an image of our loft appeared in both.

"What?" I gasped.

"Just something some people have been working on." He put both the mirrors away, and we went back to watching an infomercial about kitchen knives and snacking on pizza rolls.

***

Twenty-six years later, there's still so much to be done. But I think it's worth taking a moment to thank the people like my brother who've tried to make it better. Because of them, we don't have to start from scratch.