by Sara Clancy
Theodore took Benton’s weight as Cheyanne ran forward to push aside the tangled sheets and crumpled towels that were piled atop his mattress. The security lights clicked on and exploded through the windows like a supernova. It felt like acid being poured against his quickly drying eyes. Stay awake, he repeated like a mantra. He tried once more to shove his fingers down his throat but could barely lift his hand. Everything was garish white as Theodore let him crumble onto the mattress.
“Mom,” he groped for her, unable to wrap his fingers around her wrist. “Don’t leave. Please.”
She easily broke free of his feeble grasp. Before he could try again, she pulled the blanket tightly over his arms and tucked the end of the sheet between the mattress and the floor. It was a loose hold but enough to shackle him as his body melted. She kissed his forehead.
“Just sleep. Everything is okay.”
He rolled his head, searching for his father. The motion shattered what remained of his brain and made his vision blur all the more. The ceiling above him was a sheet of blinding white, one that seemed to glow and dim on its own accord. His heartbeat resounded within his chest when patches of darkness seeped out of the light. Black claws tore their way through the ceiling. He could only watch as they grew, unnoticed by his parents, and became curled talons that reached down towards him.
“Dad,” he gasped as he began to thrash against his bounds. “Let me up. Please.”
His words morphed and shifted within his slack mouth. They made sense in his head but lost all meaning as they shifted past his lips. The noise he created was something his parents ignored easily enough. Benton was barely able to move under the raging current the sedative created. Flat on his back, watching the hand descending towards him, he could do little more than drown in the tide. The nails flashed in the light. Sleep pulled him deeper into his own bones. Adrenaline pulsed into his blood, but it still wasn’t enough to combat the toxin. His eyelids drooped.
“Don’t leave,” he begged them both.
The security lights flashed off. For a second, the whole world was lost as his sluggish eyes strained to adjust. Moonlight washed through the windows to distinguish shapes within the shadows. He could make out his parents once more. They still loomed over him but the features of their faces began to twist and melt. The hand was almost between them now but they still didn’t see it. The nails glistened in the dim light. Just look, he tried to scream. All that came out was a pitiful squeak. Sweat pooled at the nape of his neck, cold and clammy. His mother gently patted his forehead once more.
“Just relax,” she cooed.
“Don’t leave. It’s here.”
Theodore’s hand became a solid pressure against Benton’s arm as his father lurched back onto his feet.
“You’ll feel better in the morning,” he assured.
“No. Please.”
Benton lost the battle to keep his eyes open. They slid down like sheets of iron, casting him into complete darkness and keeping him there. He could barely hear his parent’s retreating footsteps over his whimpered pleas for them to stay. But he could tell that they never hesitated. Clinging to the last shreds of his consciousness, Benton tried to get off the bed, away from the falling hand. His limbs were heavy. Sleep warped around each of his movements, making him slow and heavy against the thin bed sheet that served as his shackles. Finally able to weave one arm free, he tried to roll to the side, the movement an arduous struggle. Flopping it to the side, he scrunched his useless fingers into the carpet, using the loose grip to drag himself forward. Exhaustion weighed him down like an anchor. He couldn’t even move from the mattress.
One by one, long taloned fingers curled around his forearm until the entire hand had closed around his skin. He tried to scream. To pull away. To somehow dislodge the creature that was now holding him in place. The tips of the talons pressed against him, a strong pressure threatening to break the skin. A new kind of fear simmered in the pit of his stomach as the mattress below him dipped. He could feel himself falling away from his body, tumbling into the deep pit of his diseased mind. A presence plastered itself to his spine. It held him like a lover, nuzzled against the nape of his neck, and cradled him as his nightmare rose to swallow him whole.
***
His skin wasn’t his own. It was too tight. Like a snake that needed to shed. Sobbing broke the silence that hovered around him. It was a helpless, broken sound. A pitiful wail that rolled over the walls to create its own echo. It was insulting. Being chosen was a gift. A position of glory. He was offering it a chance for its life to mean something. His new addition should be groveling in gratitude, not clinging to its former, mediocre existence.
He walked with legs that were not his own and came to stand before his new possession. It looked up at him with tear-rimmed eyes. Like a child grasping for its comfort blanket, it wrapped its arms around his legs and burrowed its face against his stomach.
“You can’t leave me,” it whined while shuddering under the weight of its grief.
In a gentle caress, he placed his hands over its shoulders and cradled it close. Each desperate plea hit his ears like music. How had he ever questioned his hold? Or its loyalty?
“Sweet love,” he said with a voice that wasn’t his own. “You can stay with me.” With one hand under its chin, he lifted its face. “But I need to know that you love me. And only me. Completely.”
“I do,” it rushed to assure him. “Of course, I do.”
“What would you do to prove it?”
“Anything.”
He smiled and gently traced the tips of his fingers along the curve of its cheeks. A thin trail of blood oozed up to show the path his nails had taken. It didn’t attempt to pull away but instead closed its eyes as if to relish the touch.
“Will you die for me?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
He smiled and held up his nails, bearing the edges for its appraisal. It eyed them with caution before turning its eyes to meet his own. After a few moments, it rose its arm. Its frail, narrow forearm rested atop his nails. For a moment, it did little more than watch him. All it needed was a gentle smile to move again. With a final gut wrenching sob, it impaled its forearm onto his nails, cleanly severing the skin.
Hot blood gushed over his fingers and the scent of iron filled the air. Reality filtered in within the edges of the dream. Somewhere in the back corners of his mind, Benton’s true nature began to scream and struggle. Trapped within the constricting flesh, enough of his own mind took shape that he could recognize the man before him. Victor. The fingers weren’t his own but he could still feel Victor’s blood trickling down them and pooling within his palm. It was hot and slick and made him want to gag. Veins twisted around Benton’s fingers. Bones scraped across his nails. He tried to pull back, but his hand refused to move. This is where the dream should end. He should be free. But Victor continued to saw his forearm across his borrowed claws and he was forced to watch it unfold. To feel it with every sense while still completely paralyzed.
Victor’s eyes dulled as his blood splashed across the floor. He crumbled to his knees at Benton’s feet. With the last of his energy, the last traces of his life, Victor continued to shred his arm. Benton was desperate to move, but still his borrowed form wouldn’t permit it. He was a spectator. A witness.
A scream he couldn’t release filled Benton’s mind as a thousand unseen hooks dug into him. He could feel them, scorching hot and solid, gouging into his dream body as if it were real flesh. Hunks of his flesh tore free as the hooks began to pull. Bit by bit, he was ripped apart. Fingers squirmed free through the blood and puss. Like an insect hacking its way out of a chrysalis, a new body clawed free of his current form. His bones crunched and popped. The sickly wet sound of skin separating from muscle filled his ears. His screams of agony lodged in his throat as it was destroyed. The last chunks of his original dream form toppled onto the ground with a heavy plop and with it the dream he had been trapped in.
Bento
n blinked with eyes that were not his own and glanced around his new surroundings. His own mind evaporated like vapor, and once again another personality took hold. He was a new person now. With a new victim before him.
***
Nicole’s hand still trembled with unspent adrenaline. She watched them shake uncontrollably as she sat in the brightly lit waiting room of the police station. Somehow, Victor had managed to slip away unseen and was still missing. Fort Wayward didn’t have a large force. There were only eight of them in total, and a few were far better with paperwork than anything else. They couldn’t spare Dorothy for the evening, not when they had their first manhunt in over one hundred years. So, after insuring that her daughter was okay and in the safety of the station, her mother had left.
Every so often, the radio behind the desk would crackle and someone would call in an update. Time had lost any real meaning, but she knew it was getting late. Victor still hadn’t been found. Their house was completely abandoned and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking over the possibilities of what could have happened to them. She listened to the calls, scrunched her fingers into the aged padding on the seat, and tried to think where Victor could have possibly gone. There were surprisingly few hiding places in Fort Wayward. Mostly because there was a distinct lack of excess. A few houses stood empty as they waited for new tenants but everything else has a purpose and severed it. During the night, he could hide well enough on the planes, but come daylight all of those options would leave him completely exposed.
Vic’s with his girlfriend, she realized with a sinking sensation. He’s in the same little hole she’s been hiding in this whole time.
The thought jarred Nicole’s mind from the circles it had been running in. The image of Victor emerging from the dark with a knife in hand was replaced by a barrage of questions. She could no longer push aside the strange things she had seen. The niggling suspicions that had been haunting her since her slip of the tongue. And if she was honest, long before that. It. Not she. Whatever had latched itself onto Victor, whatever was breaking him, body and mind, wasn’t human. She had no idea what it could be, but she knew without a doubt that, whatever it was, it intended to kill Victor. And it had apparently already found its next victim in Benton.
Shock loosened Nicole’s jaw when she remembered Benton struggling in the car. She had dismissed it as a vivid nightmare, but what if it hadn’t been? She had no way of knowing what this thing’s abilities were. What if Benton had seen what she had that day on Victor’s porch? The arms that stretched beyond reason and ended with deadly claws. Was it also Victor’s monster that had lead Benton to the sign in the barn? What even was that sign? Nicole thought. Under all of the chaos within her skull, she edged towards a decision. She needed to help him. She had stood on the sidelines for too long and Victor was suffering for it. Nicole couldn’t just sit back and watch him die.
The problem was, she would have to cross a lot of lines to find any answers. Lines that would be illegal and immoral to cross. Biting her lips, Nicole tittered on the edge of conviction and uncertainty. She needed guidance and there was really only one person she could turn to.
Nicole glanced over to the officer on duty. When Chuck continued his work undisturbed, she got to her feet, smoothed her hair down with both hands, and crept closer. He glanced up and she fixed a small, timid smile on her lips.
“Hey, Chuck.”
She sounded as lost and scared as she felt.
“How are you holding up?”
She hesitated. “I’d like to talk to my dad.”
“I know, Nicole,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, he’s deployed.”
Just like her mother, Logan Rider was born with a singular passion, only his wasn’t the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. It was the army. Her parents had been friends since childhood and had decided that, since they both needed to pass strict fitness exams, they could train together. Their ruthless competing had led to a deep bond and mutual respect. After that, falling in love had just been the natural next step. Two days after their honeymoon, her mother went to the training depot and her father enlisted. Since they were both highly motivated, independent, and driven, it was an arrangement that set their marriage on sure footing. Nicole had grown used to it.
“He’s still at the base. I might be able to get him on Skype. Do you mind if I use mom’s office?”
Chuck gave her an indulgent smile. “Go on, then. Good luck.”
She tried not to run to the office set in the far back corner of the building, but it was a close call. Lit only by the small desk lamp Dorothy had left on, Nicole booted up the computer and breezed through the few security measures. Chuck was well aware that Nicole knew her mother’s password. But he had yet to catch on that she knew everyone else’s as well. Even though she tried not to, she couldn’t stop her attention from drifting around the room.
Case files were stacked neatly on the far corner of the desk and her fingers itched to just reach over and go through them. Somewhere in the pile of paperwork were the answers that she needed. She was sure of it. But aside from being immoral, she was sure it was also illegal for her to rummage through a cop’s office, and she hadn’t decided yet if she was ready to do that sort of thing.
“Come on, dad,” she mumbled as her foot began to jump with nervous energy. The sound of the call picking up made her jump. The screen filled with her father’s face, sleepy but pleased.
“Hi, angel.”
His voice was hushed, his face illuminated by the light of his phone while the rest of the room remained in darkness. She never really knew what his sleeping arrangements were at any given point. It seemed to be constantly shifting, so it was almost impossible to judge how many people might be in earshot any time she called.
“Hi, Daddy.”
Tears began to well up in her eyes as the distance between them became real and tangible. She felt every foot of it. All she wanted was a hug, and the fact that it was something she couldn’t have made an ache grow within her chest. Concern etched into his features and it made her hurt all the more.
“What’s wrong?”
She sniffed. “Things are just getting really weird here, and I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” he said. “Weird how?”
It was a race to get the words out before she broke into a sob. “Vic did something really stupid, and creepy, and violent, and I happened to get in the way.”
Every last trace of sleep vanished from his face instantly. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she wiped the moisture from her eyes. “No, mom got there in time.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Daddy, no,” she chuckled slightly and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It wasn’t really him.”
“Wait, what?”
“Can we cover that later? It’s not why I’m calling,” she quickly said. “I have a different problem that I wanted your advice on.”
“Is it that I want to beat the daylights out of your friend?”
“Daddy.”
He wiped a hand over his face and muttered an apology. “Sorry, angel. I’m a little out of it. What is it you want to talk about?”
“It’s a moral question of sorts.”
Her father smiled wide enough that his dimples flashed. “And you’re asking me? You know your mom’s moral core is a lot more solid than mine. The whole world’s black and white to that woman.”
She took a deep breath and chewed her lip. “Yeah, I’m thinking about dancing in a gray area.”
Logan pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle his chuckle. “Gray area, huh? Now that, I can help with. What have you got for me?”
“I know a few people that I think are in some really bad trouble. I might be able to help them, well, I know I can, because I’m awesome.”
“Granted,” Logan acknowledged with a nod.
“But to do it, I might have to employ some unconventional methods.”
“Are we talking illegal?”
“What are the odds you can do it without getting caught?”
She thought about that for a moment. “Fairly high.”
“Okay,” he nodded again. “I want you to think about the worst case scenario. Everything goes wrong, all your shots at college are destroyed, your mother needs to arrest you, and since I had no part in any of this, you’re left as the sole embarrassment of the entire family. You’ve got that in your head?”
She organized her thoughts and nodded when she had the crippling image set in her mind.
“Would it be worth it?”
She weighed her options. There was something more behind this. She knew it, and if no one did anything soon, Victor and Benton were either going to kill each other or remain as sitting ducks for the evil circling them. Whatever this thing was that was stalking her friend, it was dangerous. What would it do once it was done with Victor? And what does ‘being done with Victor’ even entail? And how many other people had it done this to? It had to be stopped.
“Yes,” she decided. “It would be worth it.”
“Then do what you need to do. Be careful, I love you and know that I’ve always got your back,” he said. “Unless your mother finds out. Then this conversation never happened.”
“Understood, sir,” she smiled despite the pain that radiated out from her chest.
“That the answer you wanted?”
“I didn’t just ask you because I thought you’d tell me what I want to hear.”
“Of course, angel.”
There were very few people that could make her feel calm just by being present. Actually, only her father could do that, and she had forgotten how much she missed it. Tears sprung anew and she wiped them away with a vengeance.