by Sara Clancy
Despite being identical, there were little similarities in Meg and Danny Yellow Wolf's personalities. Meg’s default setting was to abandon all sense of tact, while Danny was gentle and thought through her words a dozen times over before she spoke them aloud. It was a rare occasion when both of them were silent. The novelty left Nicole reeling and at the mercy of her encroaching exhaustion. Hyped up on adrenaline and panic, Nicole had obsessed over the events all night. Her first instinct had been to research what had happened, to find something to fight, but her limited information had led her from one roadblock to the next. Her other coping mechanism had proven far more fruitful.
After decimating her cupboards, Nicole had spent what had remained of the night baking. The result was one cherry pie, good enough to give to the grieving Bear Head family, and two dozen others that she had lugged to school in an attempt to get rid of. The visit with the Bear Head family replayed in her head as she stared down at the smooth paint of the picnic table. They had all been so lost in their grief. Numb to the point that they simply walked around unsteadily, a hollow shell of their normally vibrant selves. Nicole doubted any of them would remember that she had visited moments after she left, and maybe it was better that way. It seemed like a mercy not to remember the day you were told a loved one had died.
Nicole tried to stifle a bone cracking yawn. It turned into a sob. It wasn’t an uncommon sound today. She clutched at the purse on her lap, running her fingers endlessly through the buttery soft tufts of coyote fur that created the bag.
“So you got her new bag, huh?” Meg asked weakly before she helplessly waved an iPod for a moment.
The case studded with fake diamonds was instantly recognizable as Kimberly’s. They both turned to Danny and she meekly placed Kimberly’s school bag on the table.
“I wouldn’t have thought they’d be allowed to give away her stuff yet,” Meg mumbled as she picked at a random stone in the case with one fingernail.
“It’s tradition,” Danny said. “Everything she owns … owned, will be given away.”
“Yeah, I know. We have the same heritage, sis,” Meg snipped. “I just meant that, well, wasn’t she just murdered? You’d think that a police investigation would stall the process a bit?”
“She wasn’t murdered,” Danny sighed. “She had a stroke.”
“Yeah, that’s something that healthy teenagers have all the time,” Meg said.
“There were witnesses, Danis.”
“Saying my full name, Megis,” Danny shot back, “doesn’t mean that poisons no longer exist.”
Nicole drove her fingers deeper into the fur bag, clutching the strands as if it would help her hold tight to her silence. She had promised her mother that she would keep the secret and, while she knew that she was going to tell Benton, she was determined to honor it to some extent. The siblings continued their argument without her. It was the same argument that everyone around them was having, and Nicole tried not to listen to any of it. She had her own internal arguments warring within her. Something had been there with them. Benton had seen it. And she couldn’t shake the suspicion that whatever had attacked them at the Jump had followed them down. That led her swirling thoughts to the single question that haunted her; Would Kimberly be alive if I had just kept driving?
“How many of those did you make?” Meg asked suddenly.
Nicole turned her head towards Meg, who sat across from her but wasn’t looking in her direction. Instead, she was eyeing the neighboring picnic table that was currently hosting the dwindling collection of pies. It wasn’t uncommon for her to bring food to share, so no one ventured over to their table to ask permission. Instead, people just grabbed a slice of comfort food, sometimes threw a smile in her direction, and headed back to their own groups.
Nicole chewed on her lower lip until it hurt, only vaguely aware that she had yet to respond to Meg’s question. Over the years, the twins and Kimberly had grown further apart until the beginnings of resentment had started to grow between the three women. It was just enough to immunize the Yellow Wolf girls from the sharper edges of the collective grief. It also gave them more time to worry over Nicole.
“I didn’t count,” Nicole finally forced herself to say.
She barely heard the words over the constant questions that echoed within her mind. Something had hit Benton. There were a few rumors that offered a different take, and they too were becoming more outlandish over time. Some were saying that he had fainted. Others said that he had taken the same mystery drug that had killed Kimberly. But she knew something had struck him. Out of all of the wild speculations clogging her mind over what could and should have been, rose a singular concern; Benton still hadn’t called. He should have called by now. What if he hadn’t woken up? her brain whispered. What if it found him again? What if this paranormal creature had poisoned him like it did Kimberly? Did his parents change their mind about the sedatives?
“I’m out of flour,” Nicole added numbly.
Where is Kimberly’s heart? The thought slammed into her and she jumped to her feet, wobbling, as her foot got caught up in the leg of the chair. The sudden movement startled the twins and they reached for her in unison.
“I have to go,” Nicole forced out. She was going to be sick. She couldn’t breathe. “I have to do something.”
Sitting next to her, it was far easier for Danny to grab Nicole’s wrist than it was for Meg. With surprising strength, Danny yanked, destroying Nicole’s already unstable balance and forcing her to slump back down on the seat.
“There is nothing you can do, Nicole,” Meg said.
Danny opted for a far softer tone as she agreed with her sister, “You already paid your condolences. The Bear Heads know that you care. Now you need to give them some privacy to grieve.”
What if it comes back? Her hands began to shake as she swatted at Danny’s hand. What if it follows me again? Nicole pushed the thought back into the rising swamp of guilt that bubbled within the pit of her stomach. She refused to believe it. There was always an answer. An option. Something she could do. She just needed to find where to start. She just needed a moment to think.
“I need to see Benton,” she decided and quickly tried to get up again.
Danny’s grip tightened, keeping Nicole in place. “If he’s not here, it’s probably because he needs to rest.”
Both of them turned to Meg, seeking some kind of back up from the most direct one of the three. Meg never shied away from any uncomfortable topics and once again was quick to answer the challenge presented to her.
“Danny’s right,” Meg said simply, continuing on as Nicole slumped. “Plus he might not want to see you right now.”
Nicole stilled enough that Danny decided to let her go. “Why? What did he tell you? When did you even talk to him?”
“He fainted.” Meg’s desire to smile at Benton’s possible embarrassment couldn’t compete with her sadness, yet left the promise of a smile, that never fully formed twitching on her lips. “His ego’s probably pretty bruised at the moment.”
Nicole opened her mouth to snap about the stupidity of that when a second thought made her hesitate. “You don’t really think that Benton’s like that, do you? That he would care more about his reputation than Kimberly’s death?”
The girls exchanged a glance and for once, Danny was the first one to get enough nerve to reply.
“We don’t really know Benton.”
“Yes, you do,” Nicole insisted. “We hang out all the time.”
“Yeah, but he only ever talks to you,” Meg said.
“He just tolerates us,” Danny agreed.
Any reply was forgotten when Nicole caught her first sight of Benton. His movements were stiff and an angry bruise was claiming half of his face, but he was there. He was okay. Relief poured through her and she leaped free from the table, quickly covering the distance separating them, and embraced him in a tight hug. They staggered back a few feet, neither ready for the additional weight, but he lifted hi
s arms up to wrap them around her, nonetheless. She felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as he threaded the fingers of one hand into the thick hair she had at the base of her skull.
“I’m so sorry, Nicole,” he whispered. He readjusted his grip on her, as if he could find the perfect way to hold her that would take all of the pain away. “I didn’t know. I didn’t dream of her.”
His voice cracked with the promise of tears and his arms tightened.
“I would have told you,” he said softly. “If I had seen that it was coming for her, I would have told you.”
“I know.”
Her assurance didn’t have much of an effect, not if his broken whimper of a response was anything to judge by.
“I didn’t see it.”
Nicole pulled back, but only far enough to see his face. Constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he kept his eyes locked onto the patch of ground by their feet, refusing to meet her gaze. As gently as she could, careful to avoid the growing bruise that swelled out from his right temple, she cupped his jaw and forced him to look at her. It was a hard task to keep from hurting him, given that the damage traced a thick line down the side of his face, but he didn’t flinch away. When he finally lifted his gray eyes to meet hers, he made no attempt to hide the misery that was etched onto his face. Unshed tears and sleepless nights had combined to rim his eyes with layers of red and black. The bruises highlighted the lines and arches of his face, making him appear sickly, fragile, and far older than his years. But it was his hair that concerned her the most.
Benton didn’t have much love for his hair. He hated how, in the right light, the pale color took on an ashen gray tone. So he devoted a great amount of effort into carefully arranging his hair into a halo of spikes using gel. This was the first time she had seen him looking like he had just come out of the shower. It seemed like a simple thing, but it was such a sharp change from his norm that she couldn’t help but worry.
“This wasn’t your fault,” she said.
Instantly, he skirted his gaze away and turned his head. Stilling her hold on his cheeks, she ducked to recapture his retreating gaze. While he looked at her, he didn’t allow her to lift his face again.
“What happened to Kimberly wasn’t your fault.”
She spoke each word carefully and, while she knew that he heard her, she doubted that Benton believed it. His soft nod didn’t trick her for a moment. She could see it then. That it didn’t matter what she said or if she repeated it until her last breath. Just like her, he was going to keep this weight forever secured on his shoulders. All the motion of his nod did was shatter the last shreds of his restraint, and he rocked forward until his forehead rested against her own.
“I know Kimberly was a friend of yours,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”
It was a source of pride for Nicole that everyone within her hometown was her friend. Fort Wayward didn’t have the numbers to rival other small towns. But a population of a few thousand was still more than enough to make it difficult to spend a decent amount of time with each person individually. She had been racking her brain for hours, trying to remember the last conversation she had had with Kimberly that wasn’t just in passing or involved a class assignment. Nothing was coming to mind, and the guilt of that coated her stomach like tar.
“I’m okay.” Her voice cracked with a dozen different emotions and she closed her eyes tight, as if she could prevent herself from facing them. “I wasn’t a very good friend to her lately. I should have checked in with her more often. I should have …”
Her words trailed off as Benton gently hushed her. For a moment, they just stood in silence, struggling to hold their ground in the current of their fear and grief.
Benton broke the silence with a lulled whisper, his voice becoming intense, “I need to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, she pulled away from the warmth of his body and nodded. But before Benton could continue, Meg and Danny were behind them, awkwardly shuffling and casting them weak smiles.
“Hey,” Meg said, her leather jacket squeaking as she offered Benton a swift wave.
“Hi,” Benton said. After sparing a quick glance to Nicole, he forced himself to continue, “How are you holding up?”
Meg shrugged. “I’m fine.” She swirled one finger in the air to indicate the side of his face. “That looks painful. You got all that from just hitting the ground?”
In an abrupt motion, Benton let go of the back of Nicole’s head and sharply pulled up the hood of his jacket, hiding the damage as best as he could.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I guess I should learn how to fall properly.”
He skirted his storm gray eyes to Nicole, looking at her with a clear edge of need. Whatever he wanted to talk about, he wasn’t prepared to wait too long. She nodded her understanding, but it didn’t seem to put him at ease. Stepping back, she clutched one hand in his jacket and fixed a small smile onto her face.
“Benton and I just need to have a quick chat,” Nicole said.
“Privately,” he added in a whisper.
“Privately,” she repeated for the twins to hear. Her smile felt fake and hard, but she couldn’t stop herself from holding it as she stiffly spread her free hand out to indicate the pie table. “So, just help yourself to a slice, relax, and we’ll be right back.”
Nicole wouldn’t have been worried by one of them giving her an odd look. But seeing the exact same suspicious, dumbfounded expression on both of their faces at once was a bit unnerving. It was even worse to glance over and find that Benton was apparently also questioning her mental state. A few weeks ago, she would have surged on, convinced that she could find some way to dig herself out of their skepticism. But hanging out with Benton and witnessing how easily he could do it, had made her begin to doubt her skills of deceit and misdirection. So, instead of staying to deal with it, she quickly made a few more apologies, grabbed Benton’s hand, and dragged him towards the main building of the school. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a few teachers watching them as they separated from the group. But no one tried to stop them.
The clank of the glass door opening echoed down the hallway. The minimal number of classes actually in session didn’t make much of a competing noise against her squeaky sneakers. A few people still lingered in the halls, clustered into small groups that leaned against the locker lined walls. They talked softly amongst themselves, their words interrupted by barely heard sobs, and ignored Benton and Nicole as they passed.
The school itself wasn’t a huge building, but it had been constructed in segments, added to over time, ending with an odd layout like a capital H. They rounded the first corner and found that, while the crowd had diminished quite a bit in this segment, there were still a few people loitering outside of the classrooms. Not willing to risk being overheard, Nicole slowed her pace, waited until she was sure no one was looking, and shoved Benton into the nearest janitor’s closet. It was a tiny space but she did manage to get the door behind them.
“What is your deal with closets?” Benton said as Nicole pulled the small chain that turned on the overhead light. The weak bulb jiggled slightly, casting erratic shadows as it tapped against Benton’s forehead. He swatted at it as he continued, “You know, it is possible for us to have private conversations without being in one.”
Unable to think up a decent response, she decided to just ignore the comment. “What really hit you?”
He stiffened at that. Losing what had remained of his ease, he became oddly fascinated with the floor. After spending far too long staring at his sneakers, he reluctantly glanced up under his lashes to meet her eyes. “A spinal cord.”
She stared at him. A statement like that should have only been uttered with a smirk following close behind. So she waited. He only grew more uneasy in the lingering silence.
“You’re not joking,” she said at last.
He shook his head and her insides turned to ice.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m
going to need a little more information.”
Benton groaned. “You didn’t see the horseman, did you?” He rubbed both hands over his face, having forgotten about the damage to the side of his head until his fingers pressed against it. The spike of pain only made him resentful. “Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t have left if you had.”
“I didn’t want to leave. Mom forced me to. And I was planning to sneak back when she fell asleep, but after seeing my jeep and everything that happened to Kimberly, she watched me like a hawk.”
“I wasn’t taking a shot at you,” Benton said with a softer tone. “I was just kind of hoping that I wasn’t the only one. I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“What did it look like?”
Her stomach twisted tighter with each word of his description of the stench, and the horseman, and the creature that it rode. Without thought, she wrapped her arms around her torso, tightening her grip as if the outside pressure could somehow ease the ache forming within. Eventually, his words ran out and they stood in silence once more. Bile rose up in her throat, burning the back of her mouth and splashing a foul taste over her tongue as she contemplated what he was telling her. There had been a headless giant draped in raw flesh three feet from her and she hadn’t seen it, hadn’t heard it. Her eyes nervously darted to the dimly lit corners of the room as if expecting to find it lurking there now.
“I don’t understand.” She took in a deep breath. “At the Jump, I could hear it. The horse at least. My jeep is proof that its presence has actual effects. But at the parking lot, I didn’t hear anything. How can it be real and not at the same time? How can it be heavy enough to mess up my jeep, but not solid enough for its footsteps to shift gravel? How is any of this possible?”
Benton bristled, a sharp snarl curling his lips into a bitter frown. “Why are you asking me? I don’t know anything, Nic. Why can’t you get that? If I knew how any of this worked, I would tell you, so stop asking.”
“I’m just thinking out loud,” Nicole defended. “That’s how we’re going to figure this out. Develop a plan.”