The cat has no face. And then she screamed louder, and louder and then the world broke. Just a little.
When she came to, Jilly was back in the parking lot of the overlook, and it had changed. There were hundreds—no thousands—of little differences, and some were totally unexplainable. It was as if the place had morphed into some altered version of itself.
For one thing, the gravel was gone. In its place was hard black asphalt. Dylan’s car was there, but it was shinier somehow. New looking. It was also cut in half right down the middle.
And there was more.
The parking lot looked as if some giant hand had picked it up and thrown it. Jagged pieces of asphalt were pointing up at the sky, trees along the edge of the overlook had been uprooted and lay busted on the pavement like so much kindling.
Tornado? Jilly wondered. But did a tornado take you to a red room? And did a tornado cause gravel to change to asphalt? Or wipe the faces off cats, or change hair and vision and hearing? Maybe this is a dream. But she knew it was real. Impossible, but real.
She heard the sound of moaning and followed it to the far side of Dylan’s severed automobile. They were there, both of them, lying on the ground, their faces covered in blood. Gilbert looked as if his chest were crushed, and something had torn Dylan’s right arm completely off his body.
Jilly thought they might be dying. And not a single little part of her gave a shit, because she could see them now, all the way inside. Beneath their bloody faces she could see what was true and trying to get out. It was an evil so abominable that it defied description.
They were gonna do something really bad to me.
She bent over and put her fingertips to Dylan’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He was gone. Gilbert, though, she could hear him still struggling to breathe. She leaned into him, close, like she was waiting on a kiss. She put her lips to his ear and whispered.
“I know who you are now.”
The ground beneath Jilly’s feet began to vibrate then, and with the tremors came a huge cracking sound, as if the whole world was splitting wide open. The cracking was followed by a rushing roar that just grew and grew and then she knew.
The dam had burst. Again.
I don’t want to be here, Jilly thought.
And then she wasn’t.
Chapter 5
Jilly was vaguely aware of being wet and cold, and it almost felt good. I want to sleep. She was so very tired, had never felt so bone deep weary in her life. Wrap this cold around me like a blanket, she thought. Just sleep for a bit.
Coming more fully awake, she was seized by a moment of fear and panic. Am I in the lake? Am I drowning? Her eyes flew open. She was lying on the ground, her face pressed up against something cold and rough. Pulling her head back a bit, Jilly could see that it was a concrete block. With an effort, she raised herself into a sitting position. Right in front of her was a broken down puke green pickup, tireless wheels resting on cinder blocks. She knew that truck, had seen it dozens of times before. The owner had only recently replaced it with a brand new cherry red F150.
I’m at Billy Ray’s trailer.
Jilly turned, taking stock of her surroundings. She was in Billy Ray’s front yard. The steps leading up to the trailer were only a few feet away. Her gaze ticked back and forth between the truck and the trailer. This is not possible, she thought. She reached out a hand, placed it on the cold surface of the rusted out truck. She could feel flecks of paint that were curled up and flaking. It’s real, alright, she thought. Okay, so now I can transport myself.
Laughing into the night, Jilly was teetering on the razor’s edge of hysteria. I don’t know how much more of this I can stand. I gotta get the hell out of here, whatever else is going on, I gotta get that money and book it.
Inside, the mobile home was utterly dark and silent, the distant hum of a refrigerator the only sound disturbing the tomb-like stillness. The stale air was heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke, beer, sweat, all mixed up with something nasty and mean.
Standing very still just inside the doorway, Jilly slowed her breathing, counted to ten, and then flipped on the low beam of the flashlight. Though little more than a weak and yellowed stream, the sliver of illumination was calming, and the racing thud of her heart began to slow, her hands began to steady. Get it done.
Playing the light across the small living area, she could see the evidence of a recent party. The coffee table was littered with overflowing ashtrays and beer cans. Pabst Blue Ribbon, Budweiser, and Millers. No fancy imports for this crowd. Just a bunch of hillbilly rednecks with something to prove. Which made her think of Dylan and Gilbert, bloody and dying on the ground. They had seemed like basic assholes too, but they were something so much worse, weren’t they?
“Monsters.” She spoke the words out loud, and in saying them, she realized it was true. The glimpse she’d had of what was inside them, and her own reaction to it, was still vivid and raw. If they hadn’t died I would have killed them. Jilly shook her head, forcing her mind away from the earlier events. It was just too big, and if she ever managed to figure it all out it certainly wasn’t going to happen standing in the middle of Billy Ray’s trailer. Keep your mind on getting the hell out of here. Maybe you’re crazy and it never even happened. Just see if there really is any money in this shithole.
She’d found out about the money from Billy Ray himself, though she was pretty sure he not only didn’t mean to tell her, but as far as she could tell, he’d forgotten that he’d ever done it. He wasn’t known for his smarts. Flashing money all over town, acting like a natural born fool—wasn’t it a saying that a fool and his money are soon parted?
Maybe that’s in the Bible, she thought. Maybe I’m just fulfilling Billy Ray’s destiny.
She’d been serving him burgers and fries for the past six months—the Gilmores had insisted she take a part time job, which for a teenager in Green’s Lodge meant the Dairy Queen.
Billy Ray did love his fast food. Half drunk or hung over, he’d stumbled in most every day. Sometimes flush with cash, mostly not. Many times Jilly had helped him make up the last little bit of change to pay for his order.
Everybody else always seemed to find something they just had to do when they saw Billy Ray coming through the door, always leaving it to her to take his order and listen to his drunken ramblings, put up with his shit. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for him, always tried to cut him some slack. Which is how she knew about the money.
Billy Ray had started dressing nicer, a lot nicer. Suddenly he always had enough money to pay for his order. Even tipping, and who did that? Tipping was almost unheard of at the Dairy Queen.
She hadn’t thought that much about it at first, just figured the drunken idiot had found some luck, but then he’d driven up in that brand new shiny Ford F150, 4x4, trimmed to the nines. Yep, he had himself a brand new truck, even though Jilly was pretty sure he didn’t actually have a license. Surely to God he didn’t still have a license.
“What’s up with you Billy Ray? Did you rob a bank or something?” she asked him.
He’d gotten all sly looking and leaned over the counter, and whispered. “I’m hooked up, man. Doing some work for some guys. You wouldn’t believe the load of cash they been paying me. I don’t even know what to do with it all!” He was drunk of course, the smell of booze just pouring off him. “I got stacks of it. All over my kitchen. Stacks of cash.” He laughed hysterically then, slapping his thighs and doing a full on head roll. “That’s so fuckin’ funny! Don’t you think so Jilly?”
Then his face got all serious and he told her that it was a secret. “Anybody asks, tell them my aunt left me some cash, you hear me Jilly girl?”
And of course she promised not to tell. And she hadn’t. But she had watched him. For the rest of the week she stuck to him like a bee on honey. She had even skipped school and work for the past few days, waiting for her break, which had finally come courtesy of Billy Ray himself, who, as luck would have it, had just g
otten busted for driving intoxicated and thrown in the county jail.
Where he’ll be staying at least until morning, maybe longer, she thought.
She played the beam of the flashlight deeper into the trailer.
Just to the left of the living room, a dining alcove was visible. On the table were two bottles of Quervo Gold—one empty, the other with a couple of inches of amber liquid remaining. Next to the bottles were shot glasses, an overturned box of salt, and some shriveled and yellowing curls of dried out lemon wedges.
Fighting an overwhelming urge to hurry, Jilly crept slowly and softly through the littered room, making her way to the small kitchen, stopping to take a long slow pull of tequila, right out of the bottle. It was vile, no wonder people have to squeeze their mouth full of lemons. The taste reminded her of something but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what. Something like kerosene. In seconds she could feel the liquid coursing through her system, calming her even more. Gets the job done, though. Gets it done. Considering what I’ve been through tonight, maybe I should drink the whole bottle.
The smell was stronger at this end of the trailer, no doubt due to a weeks worth of dirty dishes stacked on virtually every available surface. Two 30 gallon garbage cans were overflowing with trash, and at least a half dozen more huge black bags were tied up and swelling on the floor.
Jilly set the black duffel bag down, unsnapped the buckle, and put her hands inside until she felt the familiar coarseness of the canvas laundry bag. She pulled it out, opened it up at the top, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to hurry. It had just occurred to her that she might not be the only one who knew about Billy Ray’s stash.
And what if some asshole, one who had the very same idea she had, happened to drop by while she was still here?
Sure, it was probably a little paranoid to expect such an unlikely occurrence, but Jilly thought it was exactly the kind of thing that would happen in a movie, and sometimes she felt like she was living in a movie, especially lately.
Also, what if she had to spend a lot more time just looking for the damn money? It might not even be in the kitchen. There was at least an even chance that Billy Ray had remembered their conversation and hidden his stash elsewhere in the trailer. Hell, he might’ve even moved it out of the trailer altogether.
Please God no, don’t let him be that smart.
He wasn’t.
It took her all of 15 minutes to find the money. It was hidden behind a panel in the back of a kitchen cabinet. The fool hadn’t even nailed it back in place, it was just kind of pushed in, the loose edge clearly visible to anybody who cared to look.
“Awesome,” she whispered.
The cavity behind the flimsy wood was literally oozing with cash, stacks of it, just like ole Billy Ray had said. Bless your heart you slimy little shithead.
Jilly reached out a gloved hand and lightly caressed the edges of the banded bills. This will do just fine, she thought as she hurriedly began transferring cash into the laundry bag. There was a lot more of it than she expected, and by the time she was done her bag was more than half full.
She hadn’t taken it all, having already decided that robbing such a sad case as Billy Ray was borderline evil, even if he did have a mean streak. She figured that this money might be the only good thing that had ever happened in his sad, miserable life, and she just couldn’t bring herself to take it all.
She also reasoned that if she didn’t take it all there was at least a chance that Billy Ray might not even realize that any of it was gone, and if he did notice his stack diminished by half, he might think he’d blown through it himself and was just too drunk to remember. Either way, she was leaving the cretin half of it. She wasn’t trying to do anything more than just get herself out of this hellhole of a town and be on her way to Louisiana.
Jilly slung the backpack over her shoulder and began making her way across the darkened kitchen, through the living room to the front door, where she stopped dead in her tracks.
“What the hell?” she whispered, eyes locked onto the eastern wall of the trailer. “What the fuck?” She did a slow 360 degree turn, scanning every wall, just on the off chance that she’d gotten turned around somehow.
She wasn’t turned around, she was right where she was supposed to be, but the door wasn’t.
There was no door.
For a second, Jilly felt as if she’d been turned upside down in some crazy amusement park kind of ride. Her stomach flipped and she had the sudden sensation that gravity was just sort of sliding away, and taking her with it. Oh God, where is the fuckin’ door? Doors don’t disappear, for God’s sake.
Slowly, more than a little bit undone, Jilly forced herself to walk over to the wall. The front door had been located right next to the couch. Now, that section of the wall had been replaced by the same cheap-ass paneling that covered the rest of the trailer interior. The door was gone, and there was no sign that it had ever been there.
Almost involuntarily, Jilly reached out her hands and touched her fingers to the surface of the paneling. It was hard and cold, no spongy illusion. The fuckin’ door has disappeared.
“Oh shit,” she said. I gotta get the hell out of here, NOW. The back door, there’s gotta be one somewhere.
She found it right around the corner from the living room, just at the end of a short narrow hallway that smelled of piss and mold. Jilly burst through it like a bat out of hell. The cool night air embraced her, and she began to run.
Chapter 6
For the better part of an hour, Adamel had secretly watched the young woman on the porch steps as she alternately sipped a drink and stared off into the darkness. He was concealed inside the treeline just at the edge of her property.
This was her home, he knew, he’d watched her here on more than one occasion. The house was a tall narrow structure with a deeply recessed porch wrapping around to one side. It was old, and rather shabby, the elaborate curlicue trim work in desperate need of paint, cracks in the glass of some of the downstairs windows.
If the house showed signs of neglect, the yard, by contrast, was magnificent.
There were dozens of different types of flowering plants, all arranged in a pleasing manner, well tended and lush. An old cracked fountain bearing the shape of a woman was situated off to the side of the lawn, and even from where he stood, he could hear the pleasant tinkling of water as it splashed into the concrete bowl. Overall, the home had the air of being loved, and lived in.
This was not his first visit to this street, not his first night watching the young woman; in fact, Adamel had been here many times before, watching, waiting. He would announce himself when the time was right.
Adamel had sensed her presence shortly after arriving in this world, and immediately recognized her as one of the three he’d been tasked to find. Understanding her great strength and power, Adamel had devoted a good deal of his time to keeping an eye on her. This warrior’s name was now Stella, though she had been known by many other names. This incarnation of her soul was only the latest, but it would most certainly be the most important.
She was just as beautiful as the one called Jilly, and how could it be otherwise? Same ice blue eyes, platinum hair, and snow white skin. That her features were somewhat more hardened than Jilly’s did nothing to detract from her beauty. He tried to guess her age, and decided in the measurements of this world, she was likely somewhere around twenty five.
The third one, when he found her, would be another carbon copy of these two. Eons ago, when the world was first made, The Makers had generated the three from the same mold. The third was proving to be elusive, and he would have believed her dead if not for the occasional sensing of her presence.
She was alive. But where? He had no idea.
Adamel looked again at the one called Stella, her features muted, barely visible in the glow cast by the halogen lamps that flanked the street. He felt an uncomfortable flush spreading over his body.
Do I desire this one? Is that even po
ssible?
He could tell that her own awareness of the Wahri destiny was in the early stages. In addition to uncertainty, her aura was colored heavily by confusion and guilt. She was driven to destroy, but in destruction found no solace. Something very much like pity arose in him, a strange feeling, as in his world there was no place nor reason for such a thing. He’d been warned to expect these new sensations, for even though he was not of this world, he was not completely immune to the strong pull of humanity and their strange and exciting inner turmoils.
Since coming here, he had been bombarded by these seemingly endless human emotions. They had so many! No wonder that in spite of their achievements, they had remained so far behind the rest of the universe. No being could function properly with such a heavy burden. And their confusion! It was endless, but then how could they be otherwise? They had been left here without knowledge or certainty.
Once again, he focused his attention on the young woman on the porch steps. She was standing now, and he watched as she slipped into the forest at the edge of the yard. She was tall, extremely so, and powerfully built, with an animal grace to her movements. Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and in the moonlight the paleness of her skin was a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding her.
Farther up the lane, he could see that a man was now walking along the sidewalk, quietly, hands thrust deep into the pockets of a dark colored parka. He sensed that the appearance of this man was what she had been waiting for.
Following her silently into the park, Adamel kept himself well out of sight, taking care to keep the shimmer of her white blond hair well in his sights.
At one point, the young woman stopped, frozen, and he could hear a muffled shriek. Clearly something on the ground had startled her, as she then kicked out with her feet before continuing on through the woods.
Beasts in the Garden Page 4