And she even felt him beside her. She smelled the cologne he always wore and heard his breathing. He touched the nape of her neck and took her hand; she even heard him make a sweaty palms joke.
She knew it was all in her head, but nothing had ever felt more real. Distance was trivial; time was meaningless. No matter what she was doing or where he stood, they were together and would be forever.
She stopped taking steps, but she was still moving. For she no longer walked; she flew. Her weightlessness soared heavenward, and she was happy.
But it all came crashing down.
* * *
The sound lasted less than a second, but it shook Cameron to his core. He stopped and searched every direction for the source of the sound—he saw only blackness.
He gripped the gun and stood still. He ensured the safety was off and guided his finger to the trigger. The sound was not imaginary. There was something stalking him, and Cameron wanted to be ready for whatever waited.
His heart raced. His hands trembled. Sweat spotted his brow. Try as he might to calm his breathing, each breath was quick and noisy.
And then it hit him. Like in the forest, he felt eyes upon him. It was a feeling he had not been able to shake throughout his journey, but as he stood in the void, he knew for certain that someone, or something, watched him.
He lifted the gun; though he lifted the gun to eye level, he could not see it. But he did not need his eyes to know the gun was there. Cautiously, he tiptoed forward; step by step, he focused his vision and searched the non-existent horizon.
Come out, you sonofabitch.
“You sure you’re ready, son?”
The voice was not Cameron’s thoughts—it was another’s voice. And though his father had asked Cameron the same question, the voice was not Jim’s, either. Deep and gravelly, Cameron heard the voice with Carrie; but this time, it contained a hint of empathy and even a dash of kindness.
Cameron paused a moment before thinking, I don’t think I’ve ever been ready for anything more.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
In the distance, Cameron saw something.
* * *
“Who said that?” Carrie screamed. She searched all around, but there was only light. She looked up and down, but she was alone.
Not again, please God. She had never crashed from such a high to so low. Carrie was certainly no longer flying.
“You sure you’re ready, my child?”
The voice was not Carrie’s, but it came from within her. She heard the voice with Cameron; vibrant and full, the voice put Carrie at ease for a moment. But then reality came rushing in.
In spite of it all, Carrie somehow knew what was next. She braced her mind and body and quieted her breathing. She enjoyed the few remaining moments of silence.
I am.
“I’m proud of you, Carrie.”
The voices hit her psyche like a truck; every doubt she ever experienced filled her mind simultaneously; the attack was more painful than anything she had ever felt. Sobbing, Carrie fell to her knees; she lifted her hands to cover her ears, but there was no point. She could not avoid her past any longer—it was time to face it head-on.
Carrie could not move any part of her body. The doubt filled her muscles and mind, impeding any escape. The paralysis was even worse than in the car or on the mountain; this paralysis was all encompassing, and no amount of physical effort could thwart it.
But Carrie knew how to fight it, and she was ready to rumble.
* * *
The eyes viewed Cameron from a distance, though he did not know how far. They were unchanged—dark green, inhuman, and malevolent.
Cameron extended his arms towards the beast and he felt the gun vibrate in his grip as his hands trembled; his index finger caressed the trigger.
The beast and Cameron were at a stalemate—neither creature moved as they observed one another. The beast’s breathing was long and rhythmic; its eyes were steadfast and unwavering.
Cameron wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger, to end his suffering from a distance and without consequence. But something within him knew that was not the right way; there was no more taking the easy way out. No longer would he run from his past.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled his finger away from the trigger and lowered the gun to his hip; slowly, Cameron placed the gun on the floor, thought of Carrie, and stood.
The eyes blinked twice, Cameron heard a growl, and the beast attacked.
* * *
Carrie struck out against every doubt. Her journey had given her the answers she needed to fight herself.
“You ruined Jack’s life!”
I saw him. He’s fine.
Carrie fought back with all she could; she fought back with visions of her father, mother, Jack, Cameron, and her son. She cut every uncertainty at its core; she was finally equipped with the ammunition she needed.
“You abandoned your mother!”
No, I didn’t.
“You didn’t tell her you loved her!”
She knew.
Her muscles twitched and activated. She regained control of her eyes and, with all her might, she pressed herself from her knees.
“Gretchen tried to kill herself because of you!”
I helped Gretchen.
She stood and took a moment to calm her nerves and still her heart. The paralysis still lingered; no movement was easy. But she could move.
“You killed your son!”
I held him in my arms.
Carrie pressed forward and took a single step; this sole step took virtually all her energy, so she stopped to regain her strength. When she was able, she took another step—the second step was easier than the prior.
She walked; the steps were difficult, but they were manageable. She had broken free from almost all doubt; but one still lingered.
“You betrayed Cameron!”
I will make it up to him.
“What if you never see him again?”
I will find him, one way or another.
As Carrie took her next step, she fell.
* * *
Cameron braced for the attack; he clenched his fists and steadied his body. The beast approached swiftly, and as it came near, the its body became visible. The beast looked even larger than it was in the yard; its head reached chest-level, and each tooth was a foot long and serrated. Worst of all, its eyes filled with wickedness.
Cameron wanted to step back, but he did not; he wanted to run, but he stood firm. He was ready to be at the end of his journey, and would do whatever it took to get past the beast; because, however unlikely, Carrie might be waiting beyond.
The beast gained speed; each step was more purposeful and hate-filled. Drool flew from its jowls as its lips sneered. Its growl was deep and seemed to come from every direction.
The beast leapt; Cameron swung with his uninjured hand and connected with the beast’s jaw. His left fist cut through the beast’s mouth. Its teeth shredded his hand.
Cameron screamed and grabbed his left hand with his bandaged right; he fell to his knees and tried to survey his injury; he still could not see his body, but he did witness deep-red blood pour out from the wound. There was no floor in the void—the blood poured from Cameron’s hand and flowed downward without end.
Cameron tore the bandage off his right hand with his teeth and used his remaining three right fingers to feel around his most recent injury—the beast’s teeth had torn off all of the fingers of his left hand.
Cameron was in too much pain to notice the beast approach again. He looked up to see the beast’s paw swipe against his face.
* * *
Carrie’s body tumbled as she plummeted downward; her arms flailed, reaching for anything but finding nothing. The air pressed against her face and limbs. Her stomach seized as dizziness and nausea filled her. Vomit built up in her throat, but she swallowed it back. Faster and faster she fell. Harder an
d harder she spun.
Her body crashed against water; she felt no pain as she submerged, but after a few moments, she realized she could not breathe under the water—she shook off the fall and paddled to the surface. With each stroke, she noticed the consistency of the water was strange; it was too thick, as if she was swimming in sludge.
She looked right and left, but there was nothing; she looked up and down, but she saw only light. Exhausted, Carrie took in a deep breath; as she did so, a bit of the water got in her mouth. But she did not taste water—the liquid was salty and familiar.
Carrie was swimming in a sea of blood.
* * *
The beast’s strike sent Cameron’s rag doll body flying several feet away. He lay with his eyes closed, disoriented and in excruciating agony. Every part of him shook with pain. His mind was muddled and his body was pulp. He neared his end, physically and mentally.
He clenched his fists, sighed, and opened his good eye; the beast was nowhere to be seen, but he heard its growl. He looked towards the growl, but still could not see the glow of the beast’s eyes. He searched all around the void, but only the black remained.
The truth hit him—he lifted his hand to his face and felt around two empty holes where his eyes once rested; the beast had ripped out his remaining eye, and he was truly in the dark.
Cameron dropped his hand and awaited the inevitable. Above his body, he heard deep breathing; the breathing approached him, and small drops of the beast’s drool hit his forehead. Its hot breath slinked along his face; its rhythmic breathing morphed into a harrowing, low growl, and he knew he had just one way to escape.
The beast barked, and Cameron made his move.
* * *
Carrie spit out the bit of blood in her mouth and paddled furiously as she tried to push her head out of the river. Her energy lasted a few moments before exhaustion took control; she ceased paddling and allowed buoyancy to lift her above the blood.
Carrie exhaled and surveyed the surface of the pool of blood, but saw no landmarks. She looked up but did not see a ledge; the light was all that surrounded her.
She shook away her disgust and swam forward; with each stroke, she kept her eyes open in hopes of finding salvation. The blood splashed against and stung her eyes as she swam, but her determination remained.
After a few dozen strokes, she spotted something—a flash in her periphery. She stopped swimming to focus on the flash, but she could not find it again. At first, she considered whether she had imagined seeing something, but then she spotted it again.
Below her was a spot of darkness. The blinding light disguised the blood between her and the spot, but she felt and tasted the liquid. She understood there was no other way—she had to swim away from the light to reach the darkness below.
She tried to gauge how far she had to swim to reach the spot, but she had no idea. It could be a few strokes away or a thousand. Part of her realized that she might drown trying to reach the dark, an absurd notion considering she did not know what lurked in the blood, but a greater part understood that the darkness was her destiny.
She shook away the doubts, filled her mind with thoughts of Cameron, and took the plunge under the blood.
The warmth of the liquid made the swimming pleasant at first. She stroked as hard as possible, because she knew that each stroke brought her closer to her end, whatever that may be.
After a dozen strokes, the effects of oxygen deprivation crept in. At first, the impact was inconsequential—slight tightness in her chest, muscle fatigue, and general malaise. But soon the agony struck—every muscle constricted, her vision blurred, and her lungs seemed to cave. Every stroke was more difficult than the preceding.
She made no progress. The spot looked as far away as it did when she took her first stroke downward.
Her eyelids drooped and her consciousness slipped away as thoughts rushed into her mind. Visions of her past flew by; she saw her mother, father, child, and Cameron. She clung to the hope she would see them again, but her grip on that hope waned.
All the energy seeped from her body and she floated. She focused her sights on the speck of darkness, but her vision spotted with the darkness of creeping unconsciousness.
Keep living, Carrie…
Through the blur, the spot of darkness grew. Closer and closer it came, and Carrie shook her head through the blood.
Keep living, Carrie…
Desperately, she mustered up energy she did not realize she possessed.
Keep living…
She took everything she had left and pushed towards the black.
Living…
She faded away as her hand touched the darkness.
* * *
Cameron lunged to the left and extended his right arm; the beast’s neck struck the crook of Cameron’s arm and he wrapped and tightened his arm as he fell backwards. The weight of the beast’s body crashed onto his chest, but he maintained the chokehold.
The beast clawed furiously; it ripped at Cameron’s arms, legs, and torso. Pain rushed in but he did not relent; with each new wound, he pressed even harder.
The beast’s whines and screams became gurgles; its clawing drew less blood and its muscles tightened. The gurgles and gulps dissipated as its body became limp.
Rage filled Cameron; anger coursed through his blood. He hated the creature in his grips, hated the beast’s existence and the destruction it wrought. He hated the pain it had caused Dennis and the friendship it had ruined.
“Goddamn you!” he screamed as he pulled even tighter.
Through his struggle, Cameron saw Carrie’s face. Her light green eyes shone down on him in disappointment, and her disappointment overrode the rage.
Cameron left go. The beast’s body rolled off of Cameron and it gasped next to him. His gasping mimicked the beast’s.
After a few moments of deep breathing, the beast stirred; and though he was blind, soon Cameron sensed the beast standing over his body. And once again, the beast’s hot breath drew closer as Cameron braced for the final attack.
A moist and lumpy object slithered across Cameron’s cheek, startling him. But then he realized that the beast was licking him.
Several licks later, the beast stopped, and Cameron felt warm fur next to him. He placed a tentative hand on the dog, waited a few seconds, and petted. As he pet, he appreciated a kinship with the animal that transcended the physical. Somehow, he touched the dog’s spirit as well as his skin. He could even see into the dog’s past. He witnessed the beatings the dog had to endure at the hands of its owners. The long, hot days, with the hot Texas sun beating down on its thick fur, the only escape a cramped and dank doghouse. Lying next to him, Cameron sensed the dog’s pent-up fears and anger evaporate. And in that moment, he realized just how similar the two were.
“Duke,” Cameron whispered. “You’re not a beast. Your name is Duke, right?”
Duke placed his head on Cameron’s leg.
“It’s okay, Duke,” Cameron said. “It’s all over now.”
Duke sighed, licked him a few more times, and walked away.
Cameron lay wasted in the void. He was blind, bloodied, and content. The anger had slipped away and left him with pure peace.
In his periphery, there was a flash; at first, he dismissed it as a product of his imagination. But then he saw it again.
It’s impossible. He gathered all his energy and looked towards the flash. In the distance, he saw a speck of light through the darkness. Instinctively, he put his hand to his face to confirm that he was still blind; as before, there were holes where his eyes used to be.
The light drew closer and he froze. A smile crept across his face as the light came closer and closer to his body.
Please be her…
The light stopped.
No, dammit.
Despite incredible pain in his arms and legs, Cameron crawled towards the light. As he approached, he felt a warmth thaw the chill. With ever
y step, he was closer to his end; warmth and tranquility filled his body as he neared the light.
Almost there…
When the light was within reach, Cameron reached out.
Part Six
The Destination
Carrie touched the darkness and a chill flowed through her body, dulling her pain and doubts. She fell to her knees as it all washed away—worry, concern, and self-doubt disappeared; she closed her eyes, and in the darkness, she felt safe.
Cameron touched Carrie’s light and warmth flowed through his body, easing his pain and enhancing his peace. He fell to his knees as it all washed away—the warmth erased regret, anger, and self-loathing. His injuries healed: the bones of his ankle regenerated, his missing fingers grew back, and the wounds across his body healed. There was pain, but it paled in comparison to what he had experienced. And in the light, his sight slowly returned.
Carrie opened her eyes and looked into Cameron’s two eyes staring back. They exchanged no words—her eyes were enough.
Cameron placed his five-fingered right hand on Carrie’s left cheek and said, “Well hey there, good looking.”
Carrie smiled and said, “Hey yourself. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
As he caressed her cheek, he said, “Well, you know me. I always like to make an entrance.”
They kissed, and her spirit lifted into the heavens. The warmth grew around the cohesive pair and she felt connected with not only Cameron, but also all that he stood for. Every memory, emotion, laugh, and cry that he had ever experienced alone swirled around her as their lips fused. She knew Cameron as well as he knew himself. They were no longer separate beings with unique plights; they were one, in all their amalgamated flaws and virtues.
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