FATE'S PAST

by Jason Huebinger

  Cameron could not let it all be for nothing. He could not abandon the love of his life right after he had discovered it.

  He slid the ring back into his pocket, patted its bulge twice, and squeezed his muscles. After activating every muscle, he pressed with all his might to lift himself from his praying position to the soles of his feet. Standing upright, he looked towards the incoming rustling, and through the trees he saw the eyes.

  The beast stared at Cameron hungrily from a few yards away. He could detect the light reflecting off beads of drool that hung and plummeted from the beast’s fangs. They remained motionless for a few moments; both animals analyzed the other and searched for the most obvious sign of weakness. But then the beast shattered the quiet with three deep barks. It stiffened, licked its chops, and darted at him.

  Without thinking, Cameron forced his awoken muscles into action. The rope hung about twenty feet away, but the beast was closing, and closing faster than he had expected.

  The beast seemed to move at much greater speeds than should be expected of its species. Flecks of drool flung behind it as it sprinted, its jowls flailed in the air, its legs were a flurry of determination and spite. Its running motion was unusual and more akin to its wolf ancestors. But the hate in its eyes transcended that experienced by creature or man. The beast approached with an otherworldly ire, and it would not stop until it had seized that for which it came.

  With the beast only ten feet away, Cameron leapt for the rope and grabbed it. The fibers of the rope did not resist; the branch holding it did not bend. The rope ably carried his weight. He stabilized himself on the tree with his feet, and propelled himself backwards as the beast leapt to strike. The two collided in mid-air, and because the beast was not anticipating his backwards momentum, it was not prepared for the collision. His back struck the beast’s head, causing it to twist and torque. The beast yelped as it hit the ground and lay motionless.

  Though unharmed, the force of the crash reverberated throughout Cameron’s body. But he soon came to his senses and scurried up the rope and onto the large, fat branch supporting it.

  When Cameron was on the branch, he looked down at the wounded beast. It took a few moments for it to regain its balance and return to its feet. At first, the beast looked perplexed, and it looked in every direction for Cameron as drool dripped from its mouth. When its vision failed it, the beast knew it could rely on its incredible sense of smell. The beast stuck its nose in the air, inhaled several times, and lifted its gaze skyward towards Cameron. When the two locked eyes, Cameron swore he saw the beast smile. It sat with its horrible eyes transfixed on him.

  Cameron had to avert his gaze from the hate-filled eyes glaring at him. He adjusted his position on the branch and looked straight at the tree bark in front of him. The branch felt steady and strong, and Cameron knew he could rest there for as long as it took.

  As he lay and gripped, his mind wandered.

  * * *

  It was before a school day like any other, and after an especially bad night of his father’s drunken rage. Before he snuck out, his mother pulled him close and hugged him tighter than he had ever imaged possible. When she relinquished her hold, she kissed him on the forehead and said softly, “Make me a promise, Cameron.”

  He looked back at her with wide-eyed curiosity. “What promise, Mom?”

  She took his hands and squeezed. “No matter what, no matter what life gives you, promise me that you will never give up.”

  “Give up?” Cameron asked. “Why would I ever give up?” His young mind could not process the concept.

  “Because, life can get hard. Even harder than now. And people may do things that may make you think it’s okay to give up. But it’s not. It’s really not. You are an amazing boy, and you’re headed for amazing things. So promise me that, no matter what, you won’t give up your chance to experience those things.”

  Cameron did not understand his mother’s meaning, but he nodded in reassurance. “Momma, why don’t I stay home today?” He walked up to her and squeezed her tightly. “I can pretend like I’m sick. I haven’t missed too many days this year, and I’m doin’ okay in my grades.”

  “Baby, why do you want to stay home?”

  “’Cause I wanna be with you today.”

  Her eyes gleamed with consideration for a moment, but then lowered in resignation. “No, baby, you need to go to school. I’ll be okay.”

  “You sure, Momma?”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Trust me, I’m sure.”

  * * *

  Never give up.

  Startled out of his daydream, Cameron looked around. The sound of those three words felt palpable, as if whispered into his ear. But there was no one near him, and he looked down to find that the beast, like Cameron’s mom, was gone. He scanned the horizon for any traces of the beast, but there were none. No footprints, no broken twigs, no sounds of distant walking. It was as if the beast had never been there.

  In reviewing the landscape, Cameron noticed that a second rope hung from a branch on the other side of the tree’s trunk. The rope looked taut. He figured some form of weight pulled at it. For a moment, he thought the beast was clawing its way up the rope to fight him in the branches, but dismissed that thought for its idiocy.

  Cameron climbed down the rope, looking all around during his descent for any signs of the beast. None appeared, and so he jumped off. He dusted himself off and patted his pocket to ensure that the bulge remained. It did, and he walked around the tree to investigate the second rope.

  Cameron’s heart skipped a beat when he saw what hung from the rope. The woman’s hair was long, brunette, and wavy. Her skin was pale and creamy; she was short and thin. The dimensions of her face closely mirrored those of Cameron’s. He knew that her closed eyelids hid light-green and beautiful irises.

  Cameron fell to his knees and hugged his mother’s dangling legs. He wept as every forbidden memory crashed upon him like powerful waves in a turbulent storm. Every slap, shove, and drunken insult hit him at once; a white noise of misery flooded his mind. His body shook to the point of convulsions and his mother’s legs slipped from his grip; he fell to the floor, his face planted on the ground, his hands covering his head, his eyes stinging from the tears and the dirt.

  Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

  The words echoed loudly in Cameron’s mind. He punched the earth and screamed. His yell was primal and inhuman. He had been transported into another realm, one in which physical pain paled in comparison to the torture that awaited beyond.

  Cameron now welcomed the beast. He would have far preferred the pain of the beast’s teeth to that which hung before him, arresting and twisting his soul.

  Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

  On his toes, he put his arms around his mother’s waist and pushed upwards. After a few moments, her head escaped from the confines of the noose, and gravity pulled her limp body onto Cameron’s left shoulder. Her weight combined with his anguish caused them both to fall, and he curled up in a fetal position with his back to his mother’s body.

  Every torturous moment of Cameron’s existence flooded him, and he was drowning. He knew there was only one way to get his head above water.

  Cameron thought of Carrie. It was apparent that this place was here to torture him. The dog chased him, not Carrie. The old man appeared horrible to him and kind to Carrie. He was lost in the void while Carrie’s feet firmly stood in reality. It was obvious that he had dragged Carrie into his personal hell.

  Carrie did not belong here. Cameron had pushed her into his abyss. He knew that if he did not end it soon, Carrie would drown with him.

  Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

  Cameron knew the beast would keep coming. It would not submit until he did. The only way to avoid giving up was to succumb to his fate.

  Never give up. Never give up.

  Cameron jumped and grabbed onto the piece of rop
e above the noose. He dangled for a few moments and looked down at the body of his mother, which lay dead on the earth. He pulled himself up until his face was even with the circle of the noose. His arms bent and ached; Cameron entered the noose.

  Never give up.

  He thought of Carrie’s eyes and let go.

  II.

  Carrie sprinted through the woods and tried her best to dodge and weave the endless branches that impeded her progress. After a few yards, she stopped and decided she needed a game plan to find Cameron and Gretchen. But before she planned a strategy, Carrie’s mind shifted to the subject of the sudden appearance of Gretchen. Gretchen looked as though she had not aged a year since high school.

  What the hell is she doing here? Carrie thought. I haven’t seen her in years! And why the heck does she still look so young?

  Carrie refocused her attention on the task at hand. She scanned the woods for any signs of Gretchen’s and Cameron’s path, and after a few agonizing moments, she spotted a trail of blood that led deeper into the forest. Carrie assumed that this blood was the same that gushed from Gretchen’s wrists.

  And so Carrie followed the blood trail. She had tracking experience from her Girl Scout days, but that knowledge was a hazy and distant memory. She knew that if she lost trace of Gretchen’s blood, she would be far less likely to find her, and more importantly, Cameron.

  Her pace quickened as she navigated deeper into the formidable woods. With each step, the drops of blood became larger and more frequent. At first, she noticed a drop of blood every two steps. Then she saw a drop for every step. Then there were two drops for every step, and two drops became three. Eventually, the drops became so constant they morphed into a singular thin line; as Carrie walked, this blood line became deeper and wider.

  For the first twenty trees, the blood ran in a single, straight line through the forest, and for that stretch, the trees deferred to the progress of the path. But the blood trail soon bent to the right, and a few trees later, it made a sharp right. Ten trees later it took a sharp left, and then a slight right, before U-turning around a single tree. Carrie followed the trail without question. Her primary purpose was to find Gretchen, who would lead her to Cameron. She would have plenty of time later to analyze the absurdities of the circumstances. And there would be much to analyze.

  After Carrie rounded the tree, the blood trail stopped. She stopped walking at the point the trail ended and searched for any signs of Cameron or Gretchen. To her dismay, it looked as though no creature had ever disturbed the woods. She did not spot a speck of blood. She noticed no broken branches or rustled leaves. She heard nothing—no noise of animal or man. The forest was eerily quiet and still. Despite her sprinting, her pulse declined and her breathing became paced and rhythmic.

  “Cameron!” Carrie screamed, her voice cracking with exasperation. “Cameron! Where are you? Gretchen! Anybody!”

  Carrie heard nothing in response to her pleas.

  For a moment, she considered backtracking and waiting at the car for Cameron to return. And had she any inclination that whatever was chasing him was the same mild and meek Gretchen that Carrie knew in her youth, she may have returned to the car. But Carrie had looked into Gretchen’s eyes, and they had held unrestrained contempt. The shrill that had emanated from Gretchen’s throat had been coarse and crude, and the blood that had poured from her veins had looked unnatural and hot. Carrie was sure about few things, but she was certain that despite appearances, the Gretchen she knew was not the Gretchen who was chasing Cameron. Whatever Gretchen that remained was of another creation, natural or otherwise.

  She thought of Gretchen’s only word: “Why?” She considered whether Gretchen could have some beef with Cameron, but quickly dismissed that thought. No, Carrie thought, She’s not talking about Cameron. She’s talking about us.

  A wet sensation on Carrie’s right arm interrupted her thoughts. The liquid felt warm and dense, and it rested as a single, stationary drop. She almost ignored it, but a couple seconds later she felt another drop two inches above the first, and a second later there was a third drop one inch to the right of the second. She glanced over at her right arm, horrified.

  Before she could process the situation, there were five drops. The drops started to fall with much greater speed, like a crimson storm. She jolted her body to the left to avoid the stream and tried to rub away the spots in a flight of panic. Her efforts just moved the blood into one large, oval smear.

  There were two streams of blood, each flowing like a thin waterfall. Though Carrie thought it best not to look, her innate curiosity got the best of her. She shifted her gaze heavenward and met the blues of Gretchen’s eyes staring back.

  For a moment, the two just looked at one another, each sizing up the other. But a second later, Gretchen gripped the branch upon which she rested, opened her eyes wide, and screamed, “Whhhhyyyy?” as she jumped from the tree and onto Carrie.

  The force of Gretchen’s momentum sent Carrie stumbling back until she lost balance and fell. The back of Carrie’s head struck the hard earth, dazing her. From the fall, snake-like blurred lines and hazy rectangular shapes muddled her sight. But her bleary eyes could detect Gretchen approaching her sprawled-out frame; Gretchen was in hot pursuit.

  Carrie soon felt every ounce of Gretchen’s heavy body pressed against her chest. Carrie shook her head to stave away the hazy stars and saw that Gretchen was pressing her knees against Carrie’s defenseless body. Gretchen looked into Carrie’s eyes with a piercing stare that struck Carrie to her core. Gretchen lifted her blood-drenched hands and shoved them against both of Carrie’s eyes.

  Carrie screamed, “Help! Help! Please, God, he…!”

  Her sentence trailed off because as she was saying it, her mouth filled with liquid. Warm, salty, with a smooth texture, the taste of the foreign liquid was not entirely unpleasant. But the reality beyond the taste was disgusting. Carrie had tasted the liquid before. Her first memory of tasting the liquid was when she was nine and cut her finger after falling off her bike. She had tasted it several times in high school whenever the skin of her hands would break while she was competing in her various sporting endeavors.

  Carrie realized she was drowning in Gretchen’s blood.

  Carrie wanted to scream even louder, but thought better of it. Instead, she fought to tilt her head to the right as far as Gretchen would permit and Carrie spat out whatever amount of blood she could. She shut her mouth as tightly possible and clawed at Gretchen’s face.

  Gretchen’s face was cold and smooth to the touch. It felt lifeless and distant. And despite Carrie’s incessant scratching, not a single muscle in Gretchen’s face reacted to the attack. Her adrenaline coursing and her mind tumbling, Carrie balled up both her fists and punched Gretchen’s face.

  Carrie swung again, and her second punch was more effective than her first. Gretchen’s grip waned, permitting Carrie to shift her body to the right, destabilizing Gretchen. Carrie did not hesitate—Carrie punched Gretchen in the temple and used both of her hands to shove Gretchen’s body off of hers.

  Carrie rolled to her right and lifted herself to her knees as she wildly wiped the foreign blood from her face. When her vision cleared and her face was less damp, she lifted herself to her feet, turned to face Gretchen, and prepared herself for a second assault.

  Gretchen did not attack. Instead, she remained motionless on the ground while a red ring grew around her. She remained still for a few seconds before raising her head and locking eyes with Carrie.

  The eyes that stared at Carrie were not the same that she saw perched on the tree branch or those that had chased Cameron. The eyes before Carrie were far more delicate than the hate-filled ovals Carrie had seen only a few minutes prior. The blue of the irises was much softer and the blackness of the pupils seemed lighter. Gretchen’s new eyes elicited compassion instead of fear.

  Gretchen blinked her sad eyes before asking, “Why?”

  Her voice was q
uiet and tentative. Gretchen took a long time to say the three-lettered word. The way she asked it exposed an inner turmoil and angst. Gretchen asked as though she was more afraid of the answer than the actual question.

  “What do you mean, why?” Carrie asked. “Do you mean our past?”

  Gretchen stared at Carrie blankly.

  “Why are you chasing me, Gretchen? And Cameron? Is it because of how I treated you in high school? I know I picked on you a lot, but we were just kids, Gretchen. I’m sure you’ve grown up too.” Carrie took a couple steps forward and asked, “Is that why you hurt yourself, Gretchen? Because of me? I’ve always wondered.”

  Gretchen continued to stare without response.

  Frustration grew within Carrie. “Alright, that’s enough, Gretchen. Where the hell is Cameron? Is he hurt?”

  “No,” Gretchen said. “He is not hurt. He is not here.”

  “Well, where is he?”

  “Elsewhere,” Gretchen said.

  “Well, tell me where! I need to find him!”

  “Don’t fret, I have him,” Gretchen said. “And if you want to find him again, you will have to do it through me!”

  Gretchen jumped to her feet and sprinted into the forest. Carrie, flustered for a moment, took a few seconds to process the situation before giving chase after Gretchen.

  Carrie ran as fast as she could for a while but could not find any sign of Gretchen aside from the trail of blood she left behind as she ran. Carrie stopped and kneeled over to catch her breath. I have to find him¸ she thought. I don’t believe Gretchen, or whatever the hell that is. She hurt me, and I’m sure she would hurt him.