Creature

by Hunter Shea

  “He can’t keep up with me.”

  “Neither can I, but you keep me around.”

  He covered her with a sheet and turned the television on. “That’s because I’m locked in with you. I don’t have time, money, or energy for another wife. But getting another dog is a simple trip to the animal shelter.”

  She slapped his hand. “So you’re saying if you had time, money, or energy, you’d be ready for wife number two?”

  “I’d need all three, and I don’t see that happening in my lifetime.” He smiled as he kissed her forehead, nose, and lips. “Now, take a nice long nap. I’ll get the fire pit ready for tonight.”

  Kate settled in, the fresh air making her drowsy in a good way, not the usual pull of sleep because she was hurt or sick. She looked forward to dinner on the patio and sitting beside the fire. Andrew seemed so excited when he talked about it, like a kid going over plans for his birthday.

  She drifted off to the soundtrack of a Western on the television, the brass section blaring away as the cavalry came storming in.

  * * *

  “Care to stay a while?”

  The bear beside her bed smiled, its coal-black eyes crusted yellow.

  Kate hurriedly gathered the sheet and blanket to her chest, pushing away from the wild creature in her room.

  “You don’t belong here,” she said. “Shoo! Get out of my house.”

  “But you invited me in,” the bear said, resting his muzzle on the bed, his dripping nose nudging her side.

  “I…I did no such thing.”

  The bear yawned, but she knew it was simply to show off its massive teeth. The roof of its mouth was black as cancer, its gums raw and red. It said, “Then why am I here?”

  Kate turned to wake up Andrew. His side of the bed was empty.

  “He’s out there,” the bear said, craning its massive head toward the front door. “Running. Always running. Running from you.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You’re a liar and you’re not wanted. Besides, we’re not allowed to have bears in the cottage.”

  When the bear sighed, the gust of hot breath blew the covers off the bed. Kate looked down to see she was naked. But something was wrong. The body below her neck was not her body. It was the rail-thin body of someone in the cold, deathly grip of anorexia. Every bone was visible, her skin stretched so taut, she could hear it creak like leather.

  The sight of her heart made her forget the bear.

  It beat against her thin flesh, outside her rib cage. As she grew more and more frightened, it pulsed faster and faster, her skin protesting, miniscule tears rupturing across her breastbone.

  “What did you do to me?” she asked the bear.

  It stood on its hind legs, its head scraping against the ceiling.

  When it reached its paw toward her, she watched a black claw extend, resting above her fluttering heart.

  “I can do this,” the bear said.

  The claw punctured her heart, but there was no blood. Just a loud, wet hiss, like when Andrew bled the radiators at the start of winter.

  * * *

  Kate scrambled in the bed, gasping for air. The first breath refused to come. Panic seized her spine. When she thought her lungs had closed for good, they miraculously unlocked. She drew in a great, desperate breath. She sat up with her hand at her throat, but it took her several minutes to settle down.

  There’d been a dream. A weird, bad feels kind of dream.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t remember it.

  Maybe that was a good thing.

  Just another nightmare log for the dream fire. She could burn down the world with her nightmares.

  Goddamn meds, she thought.

  It was dark outside.

  Andrew was asleep beside her, Buttons by her feet.

  Her tablet was on its cradle with a note: “All ready for your browsing pleasure. Surf responsibly.”

  Swiping the screen, she checked the time. Half past two.

  She’d slept through everything.

  Again.

  Her cheeks burned, hands balled into tight, painful fists. Kate cried silently, angry and disgusted. When she settled down, she propped herself up on the pillows and meditated. She fixed her intention on her nightmares, giving them the form of a black, pulsating blob. She meditated on plucking pieces of the blob away, bit by bit, until it was gone.

  The problem was, she was so tired, she kept falling asleep, the blob morphing into strange visions. When she realized she’d dozed off, she tried again, except the blob was bigger. It went like that for a while, until her last attempt at meditation revealed half of the cottage missing, the wood blown outward and splintered.

  The nightmare blob was gone, rampaging into the impenetrably dark woods.

  Chapter Ten

  Andrew’s bladder ushered him out of bed. The floor was cold on his bare feet, waking him even more. Kate was snoring, but he noticed that the channel had been changed, meaning she’d been up at some point in the night.

  He went to the bathroom and stubbed his toe on the cabinet. Cursing under his breath, he emptied his bladder. He had six or seven beers’ worth in there, so it took a while. His mouth was tacky. Slipping his head under the faucet, he lapped up cold water just like Buttons would, before heading back to the living room.

  There was still an hour until sunrise.

  He was wide awake. There was no sense trying to go back to sleep. He’d just toss and turn and wake Kate up.

  So what? the voice he did his best to avoid piped up. You waited hours for her to get up from her nap. She blew you off for dinner. Might as well get her ass up for a very early breakfast.

  He’d had the perfect day all lined up, and once again, it had been trashed. The blame was on him for expecting anything different. Kate never failed to disappoint.

  “Shut up, asshole,” he whispered in the dark. Great, now he was talking back to himself out loud! Could it be that all of the distraction of work and chores back home had kept him from finally losing his mind?

  “Nope,” he groaned, getting up and changing into sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt.

  He might as well run the voice buzzing in his head into submission.

  Buttons poked his head up when he opened the door. Andrew hoped he wouldn’t bark and wake Kate up. The lazy beagle just went back to sleep.

  The sharp air hit his lungs as if it were made of icicles. He bent over coughing, adjusting to the cold, pine-scented air.

  Nature’s gonna kill me.

  The woods were dark. Too dark for him to navigate safely. It took some adjusting, living where there were no streetlights.

  He’d have to stick to the semipaved driveway leading to the main road. It wasn’t all that long, but if he went up and back a few times, it should be enough to clear his head.

  Andrew’s feet crunched on the gravel, kicking up rocks in his wake. He didn’t bother warming up. Hauling ass as if a starter’s pistol had suddenly gone off, Andrew powered down the center of the drive, guided by the meager moonglow.

  Yes, he’d been disappointed when Kate hadn’t woken up. That was normal. Who wouldn’t be?

  That hour at the dock had knocked her out. It saddened him to see Kate so fragile. When they were dating, she’d loved all kinds of outdoor stuff like rock climbing and taking their bikes on cross-country trails. They’d push their bodies to the limit, come home sweaty, muscles jittering, and make love before and after a shower. The pre-shower sex was always more passionate, wild and reckless. Post-shower sex was tender and loving and would usually knock them out for hours.

  Now, sitting on a dock in the sun was enough to wipe her out.

  It made him frustrated, sure, but it also made him mad as hell. He was mad at nature for creating pointless dise
ases that ruined and took lives. He’d been so mad at God, he hadn’t been in a church for almost ten years. He used to go every Sunday, even though Kate thought it was silly. Church gave him comfort, made him feel whole.

  He realized it was all bullshit. There was no silver lining to Kate’s struggles. This was not making her a better person, or them a stronger, more enlightened couple. They were tired and ground to dust on their best days. How the fuck could that be the plan of a Creator they were supposed to look at as their father?

  Maybe God was an abusive addict, like so many dads he’d come across. That would explain a hell of a lot.

  So yes, Andrew was angry, and he’d argue his right to be so with anyone.

  And some days, like today, even if he didn’t want to face it, he was angry at Kate. With Kate. For Kate.

  She could have woken up for dinner, bro. Face it, she’s addicted to misery. You showed her a good time, and she went back to her addiction. That’s what you get for trying.

  “Fuck…you!”

  Speaking of addiction, you and she both know those pills got her, man. They got her in that death grip.

  “If she didn’t have them…she’d be out of her mind with pain.”

  That’s what she keeps telling you. The least she could have done was skipped one or two last night so she’d be up with you.

  “I said shut the fuck up.”

  He spit into the dark woods, over and over, as if banishing the forbidden thoughts into the pitch.

  Andrew turned when he hit the access road and headed back toward the house, running harder, faster, breath exploding from his lungs in short, hot bursts.

  He could stop and take his aggressions out on a tree. Maybe find a branch and whip the holy hell out of the elm by the car. Not that the tree deserved such abuse, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t feel a thing.

  And if it was true that all of nature was an extension of God, all the better.

  Better take one to my head, he thought. Maybe if I hit myself hard enough, that’ll make it stop for good.

  Or maybe the streak of Catholicism in him wasn’t quite as dead as he’d thought, seeking penance for his sinful introspection. Would flagellation be the same if his flesh didn’t feel the bite of the branch?

  He sprinted up and down the drive two more times, the voice in his head chattering nonstop, making him angrier.

  After grabbing the thickest branch he could find in the soft pink glow of sunrise, he ran to the nearest tree and hammered it again and again. He thought of batting practice in high school, nights in cages, swinging at buckets of balls until his hips and shoulders worked in synchronized unity.

  Klock! Klock! Klock!

  Andrew’s fevered pummeling echoed in the still morning air.

  It took the branch snapping in half to make him stop. He stumbled backward into the car, flinging the wood into the brush. His legs and arms had gone soft.

  Part of him wanted to cry, but he’d never, ever let it have its way. Not over this. He was not going to cry over his own twisted, uncontrolled thoughts. They weren’t worth shedding one tear over.

  Trying to catch his breath, Andrew turned and leaned his forehead against the car’s cool roof.

  He felt wasted, obliterated.

  But at least the forbidden thoughts were gone.

  Klock! Klock! Klock!

  Those weren’t echoes.

  Andrew stiffened.

  What the hell was that?

  “Great, now you’ve woken up the neighbors,” Andrew said, looking about the shadowy woods.

  Something heavy crashed in the distance. It sounded like a medium-size tree falling down.

  Or a bull moose making its way toward the house.

  He did not want to be out here, exposed, if a moose was near. His legs shook, but he forced them to move. He felt relieved once he was back inside the cottage.

  For some reason, he locked the door before sliding onto the floor, ear pressed against the wood, listening.

  * * *

  “I am so sorry,” Kate said.

  “It’s no biggie. Buttons and I grabbed some beers and watched porn all night.”

  Andrew was on the back porch, the door open wide, early summer air filtering into the cottage.

  “I didn’t realize I was that tired.”

  Buttons was in bed with her. He’d found a way to get under the covers next to her, his head on the corner of her pillow. He was awake, listening in on their conversation. She rubbed his velvety ear between her thumb and index finger.

  “That’s what good mountain air will do to you,” Andrew said. He had three of his moldy paperbacks on the table. One of the first Elvis Cole detective novels by Robert Crais was at the top.

  “There aren’t any mountains.”

  With a sweep of his hand, he said, “Oh, they’re not far. You don’t have to see them to enjoy the benefits.”

  When she lay back against the pillows, Buttons lifted his head and plopped it on her chest.

  “You’re such a loon,” she said.

  “By the way, your dog’s taste in porn?” Andrew gave an exaggerated shiver. “You might want to rethink having him in bed with you. That’s one subversive beagle.”

  “And you’re a dope to boot.”

  “But a dope who loves you.”

  “I’m sure that’s what you think you do,” Kate said, hiding her grin under the sheet.

  “Now I take it back, little crip.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  He made her a lunch of toast with peanut butter and half a protein shake. She gagged on the shake but didn’t voice a complaint. Not after standing him up the night before.

  “I think I’m ready to do some hiking,” she said, moving out of bed and into the soft chair by the doors.

  “That moose should be gone by now.” Andrew washed their plates and glasses, a towel tossed over one shoulder.

  “What moose?”

  “I heard a big sucker in the woods by the house this morning. Remind me not to go out for pre-dawn runs.”

  With all of the time Kate had spent looking out the doors at the woods and lake, she was surprised she hadn’t seen a moose yet. Supposedly they were everywhere out here in the boonies. “Did you see it?”

  “Hell no. I hauled ass into the house.”

  “You didn’t at least look out the window?”

  A curious look came over his face. “No, I didn’t. I was so beat up from my run, I just kinda collapsed onto the floor.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be the last moose to come snooping around. I found this moose tour online last night over in New Hampshire. It’s just thirty minutes away. They take tour buses to popular moose spots at night.”

  “That sounds cool.” Andrew stretched, his shirt riding up his stomach. She noticed the bit of a pot belly that had grown since their arrival. There were a growing number of empty beer cans in the recycling bin. Maybe she was weird, but she liked the extra meat on her husband. It made her excited, which then led to wondering when her body would allow her to enjoy him properly. Right now, the thought of even the gentlest sex was exhausting.

  As much as she wanted to be intimate with Andrew, the pain and pills and constant battering of her will made it almost impossible to get in the mood. A part of her, of the old, vibrant Kate, cried out to tear off their clothes and fuse skin to skin.

  “Why don’t you take me out for a drive?” she said. It paled in comparison to reliving their days as newlyweds in their dream house, but it was all she could muster at the moment.

  He perked up at the suggestion. “You want a tour of the town?”

  “Yes. And I want to see what’s playing at the drive-in.”

  “Your wish is, like, the thing I gotta do,” he said, taking on a wise-guy voice.

  Andrew helped h
er into the shower, and dried her hair with the blow dryer while she sat on the closed toilet lid. It felt amazing to be clean. Daily showers were hard when she ran fevers or didn’t have the energy to get up. Showers were as wonderful as they were tiring.

  “I think Buttons needs to check things out too,” she said as Andrew took her arm, walking her to the front door.

  “You’re right. He told me last night he needs more beer anyway. I’ll let him pick it out.”

  Andrew stopped the second they stepped onto the modest porch, staring at the car.

  “What is it?” she asked, gripping him by the elbow with both hands.

  “Looks like I got away just in time. That moose must have rubbed his antlers or his dirty butt all over the car.”

  It was then she noticed the streaks of mud on the driver’s-side window, hood and roof. Smeared swirls of dirt and grime coated that side of the car.

  “That must have been one dirty moose,” she said, snickering.

  “Good thing they have one of those self car washes in town. Jesus, what a mess.”

  Buttons sniffed the mud, barked once, tail wagging, and hopped into the back.

  As Andrew walked Kate to the passenger side, she took special note of one of the mud smears on the car’s hood.

  It almost looked like a handprint.

  * * *

  Kate and Buttons stayed in the car while Andrew cleaned it, the powerful hose splattering the caked mud into the rainbowed mist. When he was done, he jogged to a vending machine and came back with a Christmas tree air freshener. He gave it to her.

  “Pine scent,” she said. “Really? Everything already smells like pine up here.”

  “Save it for when we go back home. It’ll remind us of Maine.”

  He turned onto the two-lane Main Street, headed toward the quaint town. “I wish I’d grown up here,” she said, staring out the window.

  They passed an old Victorian house that had a for sale sign on the front lawn. The bay window of the house was filled with very old porcelain dolls.

  “Now that’s creepy,” Kate said. Andrew slowed the car to take a better look.

  “Not the best sales ploy,” Andrew said. “Unless there’s a market for people looking for homes filled with sinister-looking dolls.”