And the Creek Don't Rise

by R. M. Gilmore

  My heart stopped. I’d been prepared for damn near anything, a werewolf, a monster, a demon even. But death, just death meant I was nothing more than a beast. A thing meant to kill. I wasn’t ready to accept the fate of a killer.

  Either she let me go or I got the gumption to break whatever spell she had over my hind end and pulled it up from the wood floor. “You—” I huffed. “Crazy old woman.” I pointed my finger at her. “Don’t you tell anybody I was here or so help me…” I leaned over her. “I’ll come back tonight and you’ll see death.” It was a sin just to say it out loud but damned if I didn’t give a shit.

  I stormed off the porch with so much heat I might’ve impressed the devil himself. I was halfway to the truck when I heard the hanging beads and charms clang against each other.

  “You’ll kill him, Lynnie Russell,” she hollered from the step. My heart stopped at the sound of my name, but each breath still came thicker than the last. “If you ain’t careful, you’ll kill that strong brother of yours.”

  I didn’t dare turn around. That fiery hate in me called to the beast inside. It was just waiting there to be unleashed.

  My engine rumbled, puffing a cloud from the tailpipe. I risked one last look at the only living human who knew what I was—and who. She stood on the step, a string of beads clutched in her hand. Eyes closed, mouth moving at the speed of light. Praying, or chanting, or casting or whatever that woman did.

  She opened her eyes and caught me watching. I tucked my chin and slammed on the gas. My balding tires refused traction and the old truck slid across the asphalt, leaving a nice trail of smoke when I took off.

  It wasn’t natural for someone to be able to rub your head and know your life. Your name, your family, your sins. It just wasn’t natural. But then again, neither was turning into some kind of green hairy beast and killing folks out in the woods.

  Rage tunneled my vision until only instinct kept me on the road. I’d near forgotten about waking up with blood on my face, about what I might’ve done. Memories dripped from my melting mind like wax from a long-burning candle. Consumed with rage, with that beast, with my sins. I’d talked to God. I’d seen a magic woman. I didn’t know where else to go. Dusk was coming on fast. I was closer to becoming that thing. Becoming the beast that squatted inside me waiting to burst out with the force of death itself.

  The narrow roads of Havana widened, becoming the highway. Through Russellville, I thought of Garret. Was he at work? Somewhere out there on the highway in that ugly orange vest. Or was he still out in the woods with Hattie looking for me? Rusty’s bloody face popped into my head and I gasped, choking on whatever bile came up with it.

  Cars honked, screeching around me at a dead stop in the middle of the road. Panic brought gasping breaths. I gripped the wheel, begging whatever would listen to let me be. The beast rumbled. Stirred. Promised it would take care of me and my humanity.

  I blinked over and over until I finally saw the lines on the road. Slowly, I eased the truck off the highway and into the nearest parking lot.

  “Fuck. This.” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel with each word. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” I swiped snot from my nose. “I cannot,” I whispered.

  The beastly thing promised, Oh, yes, you can.

  I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. “Here’s to Lynnie on her twentieth birthday,” I said, repeating Rusty’s toast with a shaky voice. “I want a refund.”

  Daddy’s watch that always sat on the dash said a time I was certain was wrong. It couldn’t be almost seven. How long had I been in that house? Worse, how long had I been driving?

  The sun would soon set. I may not know what I was, but I knew what I was capable of. I wouldn’t do it again. Couldn’t.

  The Ozarks were vast, easy to get lost in. And that’s just what I planned to do. I picked up a triple bacon burger—extra bacon—from the Best Spot in Arkansas, or so the sign said, and got back on the road.

  Orange, red, purple, the sky taunted me, daring me to drive faster. An hour, maybe less, I didn’t have a beast timer. It was restless inside me. A child anxious to get out to recess.

  True sunset was close; I’d gone as far as the night would allow. I parked in a clearing, deep as I could. Blue shadows painted strips of darkness in the distance. Magnified by whatever beastly magic rustled around inside me, the sounds of night critters clicked in my ears. Alone as I’d get I supposed.

  In the thick of the trees, where the paint was darkest—as if night had already taken over. It called to me, yanking a string somewhere deep in my gut. Long, deep breath in, back out. It’d come. Whether I wanted it or not. Scratching just under the surface, the beast waited impatiently.

  While I pulled my boots off, my head told me I should be afraid, terrified of what was about to happen. My heart told me I didn’t much have a choice. Either way, I knew I was doing right by Garret to stay away, even if it was only for the night. Only until I could find some answers.

  Mama Lee was right. I’d kill him. Sure as the beast was coming, if he was in the way, he’d be dead. I knew I’d change again. And again. And again until I either died or figured out how to stop it. The only help I knew had told me I’d do it and I hated her for it. I hated her for telling me the truth.

  I tasted nightfall on my tongue like a sweet, chewy caramel, delicious, sinful. “Please, Lord,” I whispered. “I’m no killer. I’m no monster. Help me.”

  A familiar pain swept through my gut, sending me to my knees. I groaned, eyes closed. Lord, help me. I knew this pain, the pain of death. It wouldn’t kill me again.

  My back arched, bones popped, crackling into place. A scream held tight in my throat. I wouldn’t give it the pleasure of my pain. This soul was mine. It could have my body, but that belonged to me.

  Great claws sprouted from the beds of my nails. Muscles ripped and tore and reformed around bones that shifted into the shape of the beast. With every tear, every crack, I begged God to save me. I begged Him to take me from this earth, to keep me from this torment. He never answered.

  Swamp-green fur poked from pores along my skin. No. I fought, refusing to let it take me completely, willing myself to stay whole. I huffed a puff of air from my snout. Eyes, a red flame, saw the world in green.

  We stood alone in the woods, my beast and me. Two beings alive in one creature.

  Predecessor

  Heavy paws slapped leaf-covered dirt with a lazy flop. Brand new muscles shifted under a heavy coat. My body took up space, rustling bushes and kicking puffs of debris underfoot. Bigger than any dog, like no cougar I’d ever seen. Green, shaggy paws instinctively moved through brush, a clever dance between me and the universe.

  Little light poked through the tops of the trees to the forest floor. Our feral eyes didn’t need moonlight. The beast knew where we needed to be. The earth spoke to us. Or it, really. I was a passenger at the mercy of the creature at the helm, but I felt invincible. A superhero with no kryptonite. Or a villain. I could still be the villain.

  I fought, kicked and screamed, pleaded for control inside that dark space but it didn’t budge. When I killed, and I knew I would, I’d have to watch. Helpless. I regretted sticking around. No memory of the beastly things we did helped. It had to.

  We moved into the darkest part of the woods. The earth sang her never-ending midnight serenade. How I’d possibly find my way back in the morning was a faint thought somewhere in the deepest parts of us. Instinct, a supernatural knowing, had her claws hooked deep in my core.

  Lynnie, the girl who fell in love with a pigheaded cowboy on her twentieth birthday, was gone. Even when morning came, I knew she wouldn’t be there waiting. I’d seen too much. Felt divinity in my soul. How could I be just a girl from Havana anymore?

  We were old. Ancient. Centuries on earth. A purpose. I didn’t know this as fact. We felt it as truth. Whatever I’d become she was mine. Her d
uty was my duty. Our lives, just one of many.

  Clumsy, pointless human movement piqued my ears. I sniffed the air. Musk. Sweat. A man was in the woods with us. It could’ve been a hunter, or a camper, or hell, even Garret. She didn’t care. We stalked toward the sound.

  I held my breath, for whatever that was worth, begging her to stay back, hide. I didn’t want to kill anyone else, but I sure as shit didn’t want a buckshot in my ass either. She moved closer. No. Stop. A man stepped from a line of trees up ahead. A perfectly purple naked man out in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere.

  Maybe she knew exactly who was in the dark with us all along.

  Purple made up the shadows and light, creating a glowing figure shaded with the deepest color. He stumbled a few feet before he saw us. His heart raced, glugging blood through to his limbs.

  I crouched, head down, eyes focused. My prey.

  He stood, breathing slowly, heart betraying him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He was there for me. I’d brought her halfway and she did the rest. Maybe she’d won the battle over my soul before I even knew the war had started.

  Who are you? My voice was just a thought passing over instinct before it was gone again.

  The man got down on his hands and knees, crawling toward me. Inside, I blushed at his naughty bits, but my beast watched in anticipation. Watched and waited for him to get closer. Close enough to eat.

  The man bowed his head, offering himself up for slaughter. “I’ve been waiting so long,” he croaked, choking back emotions the beast didn’t understand.

  In one swipe, purple blood shot out like a squirt gun, splashing in hot specks on our shared snout. My only grace was it wasn’t red. The nightmares would be purple and that I could probably deal with. Another massive paw came down on him, a sprinkler of blood sprayed across my snarling teeth.

  He rolled over onto his back, looking up at me. I stood tall over him, a beastly thing, probably the size of a bear. Maybe bigger.

  “Weary. So weary.” He choked. Death was coming. I smelled it on him. “Three days.” His fingers attempted to show me but his hand didn’t move. “So, so long.” He closed his eyes. “Set me free. Do it.”

  He begged me to kill him. To relieve him of his life. I’d made that same plea to God. My plea wasn’t answered. His was about to be.

  Blood stained his lavender teeth dark violet. “Whoever you are, thank you.” Purple spurts popped from his mouth when he coughed. “Your sacrifice freed me from that prison.” He ran a single finger across our paw without moving. “Find strength. Accept it. Stay alive.” I smirked at the idea of trying to survive and the beast snorted. “Make it quick.”

  We let out three long screeching barks—a desperate elk in heat. A release washed through me that’d been trapped inside, the powerful draw of a gun in a knife fight. One final strike and the last of his blood poured from his throat. A purple puddle spread from under him.

  Rusty’d been green. Garret too. I wanted to ask the man why, what am I, what do we do? But he took his last ragged breath as we licked magenta spatters from his face.

  I wished I could stop. I wished I could throw up, or scream, or cry, anything a human would’ve done. The beast didn’t have wishes. She was doing what she was supposed to. What that man asked us to do.

  As much as I felt for the man, I felt worse for me. The only human who knew what I was and I’d killed him. Unseen hands clawed inside that beast, desperate to escape. I kicked and scratched and screamed and all for nothing. I was stuck. Forced to wait it out until dawn.

  My beastly eyes watched his blood darken to a deep eggplant as it oozed from under his quickly cooling body. We licked his face and the zing of iron hit my tongue. Our snout nuzzled an apology, pushing his legs to a more modest position. She hadn’t wanted to kill him, but like the sun set, it was just part of the gig. I prayed that God would take him, that his soul, and mine, were still pure. As pure as they could be considering.

  She snorted and huffed, rearing on two strong back legs. We came down hard, leaves and dirt exploded under heavy paws. Our job was done. She didn’t talk to me, my beast. But her thoughts—a knowing felt deep in my bones—seeped into my gut, leaving my human brain to interpret her ancient ways.

  The sky was still dark, but the smell of dawn was in the air. A clean, new day scent. Like the lord Himself had come down from Heaven to pull the sun up over the horizon, leaving behind him a heavenly trail.

  Soon, the day would show its first light and drag me back out of my nightly prison. I begged my beast to take me back to the truck, prayed she knew the way. We’d walked deep into the woods. So deep I’d have likely died out there alone, in the elements, lost.

  She padded lazy paws through the forest. I couldn’t tell if we were close to where we’d started, had no clue if we’d make it before dawn. But she did. We stopped in a small clearing and she laid us down in the cool dirt. Our heavy head plopped into a pile of leaves, puffing a few from their pile. She was tired. So tired.

  Familiar pain wrenched my stomach. I had no control over my beast, but I sure as hell felt her pain. I wondered then how it felt for her to change. If she hurt like I did. If she dreaded the moment with every green hair on her body.

  The sky lightened with the first show of dawn. Here we go, girl. You ready? Pain ripped through our legs. Muscles stretch and tore, human legs pushed in a wet slop through thick green fur. My toes—complete with blue polish—flexed, curling under the weight of agony.

  Gooey, slick skin sucked shaggy fur into its pores and sharp claws shrank into their beds. My back arched, crackling as my spine found its place again. Boobs flopped through. Our muzzle morphed back to my human face. The beast let out one last howl—a dying elk blaring in the dark. She felt the change, just like I did.

  Her howl bellowed from my lungs, ending with a weak human scream. I fell to the dirt in a heap of fresh pink flesh. Once again I was naked and alone in the woods.

  Tears fell to the earth. Salty things meant for nothing and everything at once. A human thing, crying. Meant I had a soul, for that I was happy. But I cried for them, those I’d killed. I cried for myself, my beast, our prison.

  I wanted to run back into the woods and find the man, see if he was really dead. Force him to wake up and answer my questions. I had to know what I was, how to fix it, how not to kill my brother. There was no point in it. He was dead. Very, very dead.

  Hopeless, alone, feeling sorry for myself, I cried. My only allies, an old witch woman who saw in me only death, a now dead naked man, and a furry green monster that forced me to eat people.

  I might as well take a flying leap from the tallest cliff. Knowing my luck, the beast was immortal, and I’d live on forever in that musky, green thing.

  Cryin’ in the dirt

  Daylight hadn’t breached the thick treetops, but slices of eerie white light cut through the branches like the fingers of God bringing the forest to life. It wasn’t enough to help my human eyes navigate the woods, but true dawn was coming.

  Soon enough, I’d stumble naked through the trees and back to my truck, my clothes. Shivering, covered in blood and dirt, streaks of tears down my cheeks. I curled into a ball at the foot of a tall tree, holding my shaking body, begging for day to come and show me a way out.

  A gust shook leaves from their branches. Glittering dust swirled through slivered rays of sun. Small at first, a hint of what was coming. Wind blew my hair, tangling it around my face. A shimmering, gold dust devil tickled the earth, touching the forest floor, gathering up twigs and leaves. I sat up, blocking debris from my face. The sweet, familiar scent of pine and whiskey blew past and stopped my heart.

  A croak of a whisper, “Rusty?” I peeked through my hands.

  The glimmering dust settled. An angel in a pair of Levi’s, Rusty Kemp stood a few feet away. A single beam of golden light shined over him. />
  “Well, hell, Lynnie. What a mess you got yourself into.”

  Gulping back a flood of emotions, I crawled on my hands and knees closer to him, bare boobs and all. “Rusty,” I whimpered. “I’m so lost.” I stopped in front of him, filthy hands clutched together, silently pleading him for forgiveness. Smooth skin and pale blonde hair glistened in his golden light—chest free from my death marks. Shame told me to look away, but I refused to miss even one second of this vision. “I prayed. I prayed so much.” My voice didn’t even sound like mine. Pitiful. Pathetic.

  “Ain’t God that’s gonna help you, Lynn.”

  I let out a huff. “I even went to see Mama Lee.”

  A crooked grin pulled one side of his mouth up. “And she weren’t no help neither?” I shook my head, tears rolling over my jaw and down my neck. “She can help. She just don’t know how yet.”

  “What do I do?” I cried.

  “You gotta know what the problem is before you can fix it.”

  “What?” I stood, giving no shits that I was naked. I was talking to a ghost in the middle of the woods, covered in the blood of a man I’d just killed. Nakedness seemed somehow less important. “How?” I stepped closer to him and he flickered like a candle. “Rusty, tell me,” I demanded. “I’m scared.” Shame finally won and I looked away. “I killed you. I killed you and I can’t take it back, but I can save Garret. I have to. I can’t risk him. How do I stop?”

  He looked at me for a long few seconds. I didn’t move, not a breath. “You can’t stop what you are, Lynn.” Air poured from my pouting lips in a noisy whoosh. “But you’re not alone. You know what to do. You just have to think about it.”

  Wind blew through the treetops, rustling late summer leaves, flipping hair around my face. I swiped it away. Golden dust swirled between us. Rusty flickered, threatening to puff out altogether.

  “No,” I begged. “No. I need you. Rusty, I love you.” I reached out for him, blood crusted under my nails.