by Amanda Frame
“You know, I used to follow your instructions because I thought you were like a hundred years old or something. The whole, like, respect your elders thing. Now that I know you aren’t, you really can’t boss me around anymore.” I grinned at him and he shook his head with a laugh.
“Get outta here Anna, go study for finals. Let me worry about finalizing a plan.”
I held up my hands in defeat. “Fine by me!” I walked shakily to the door, bracing myself on the doorframe for a moment before going outside. He was right, this day had been mind-boggling and I needed a break from the insanity.
“Bye John.” I stepped over the threshold, marveling at the bright sky, birds chirping, beautiful palm trees swaying in the Florida breeze. People were walking dogs, cars were driving down the road, kids playing on front lawns.
I couldn’t even imagine how lonely John must have felt in the Void for over a year, without so much as a squirrel to keep him company. Dulled senses and heavy air instilling an unescapable claustrophobia. It must have been awful. Not to mention living in constant fear.
I wondered what terrible things he must have done to survive.
CHAPTER 37
JOHN
I stared at my cardboard and tapped the marker on my chin. There were seventeen hash marks. I had been here over two weeks.
In that time I had stabbed a Leech in the head, whittled forty-seven spikes and dug a three-foot trench to fortify my new home, gathered several wagonloads of potentially useful stuff, and accidentally burned two houses to the ground. The attic fire had jumped to the house next door. I wasn’t too upset though. What did it matter, really? It wasn’t like anyone lived there.
I was getting progressively weaker, but not nearly at the rate I did when I first arrived. With a mixture of disgust and dread, I had come to the conclusion that I probably needed to kill another Leech to sustain myself, so these last few days had been spent planning.
I had guns that probably wouldn’t work, but I hadn’t wanted to waste a bullet to find out just in case they did. I was beginning to think I had no choice. I had a knife, though, and the ability to make fire, so that was good.
I had explored around my surplus store in about a five mile radius using a bike I had found, and discovered a couple of places that were crawling with Leeches: my old high school, and the courthouse. A lot of stressed-out people there, I guess.
I observed from afar, trying to learn their movements and see if they had a routine. They often had small skirmishes, some more brutal than others. There was one Leech in particular who had gotten in a pretty bad fight a few days ago near the high school. It looked like what I imagined a chupacabra would look like, a goat-humanoid hybrid a little taller and more muscular than myself. It had long horns protruding from its head, but didn’t look very dangerous compared to other ones I had seen. It seemed to be at the bottom of the food chain.
It was injured, limping, and had to stop frequently. The remains of dried blood were still on its abdomen. It hung back, careful not to instigate another fight. It would hang around the outskirts of the school grounds every day, presumably looking for echoes of people that weren’t being pursued by other Leeches, but hadn’t found any yet. It always gave up after a few hours, took the same path away from the school, and headed back to the same strip mall to hole up there.
I was hunting him, and he was getting weaker.
It was morning and I had slept in a restaurant a few stores down from where the goat lived. I was waiting for it to leave and head to the high school, just as it had done every day for the past three days.
I crouched under a table that was bolted to the floor and watched out the window, legs cramping from being in that position for so long. Finally it left, looking weaker than ever. My heart beat faster when I realized that now was the time.
I went through my backpack again. Pliers, screwdriver, paint thinner, hunting knife, rifle with three bullets, a roll of newspaper, and a lighter that worked half the time.
I finally gathered the courage to head over to the goat’s hideout. I darted inside and looked around to make sure I was still alone. I was. Taking a shaky breath, I examined the door and found the hydraulic spring that allowed the door to close slowly on its own. I took it apart and discarded the pieces in a nearby bush.
I opened the heavy door and let it go to test my work. It slammed shut and I cringed, looking around to make sure I hadn’t drawn attention. There was still nothing in the area that I could see, so I went back to work.
I had brought over the bear trap in the wheelbarrow last night. I lugged it over and dropped it just inside the doorway with a grunt, stepping over it and shutting the door slowly behind me. This was the second scariest part of this plan. I had to set it up. I knew how to do it in theory, but had never done it. I was about fifty percent sure I was going to lose an arm.
Picking up the vice grips that had been displayed with the trap, I clamped one spring, then the other, and was pleasantly surprised when the jaws fell open. I backed away very carefully, terrified I would fall for some reason and end up stepping on the trip plate. I had nothing to anchor the trap to but hoped it would work anyway.
I rummaged through my backpack to find the paint thinner and drizzled a large ring that encompassed the bear trap and about ten feet of floor behind it. I poured a thin stream leading down into the back room which had an exit leading to an alleyway that connected to a parking lot behind the complex. It was my escape route if something went horribly wrong, which I assumed it would.
I gathered all my stuff and hid in the back room, waiting for the sound of the door. I loaded the gun and set the knife down on the shelf next to me. All I could do now was wait.
~
My heart was jumping out of my chest and I felt like I was going to pass out, sweat beading on my temples. The gun was within reach, ready to position to fire. I had a lighter in one hand, newspaper in the other. I had been here for hours and was considering giving up.
I heard the door creak open. I peered around the doorframe of the back room carefully, a clear view of the front door. The goat stood there, looking down at the trap quizzically, horns pointed my direction. It was propping the door open with its hoof, still only halfway over the threshold.
I didn’t think my heart could beat any faster, but I was pretty sure it was going to break through my ribcage. My vision was getting fuzzy and I tried to blink it away. I lit the newspaper.
The goat raised its head and looked right at me. It seemed more surprised than angry, letting out a loud huff. It went to take a step forward, releasing the door, which was now lacking the hydraulic mechanism. It whipped closed and hit the Leech in the back, sending it stumbling forward with a guttural screech.
It stepped right into the trap.
It snapped shut with a sickening squelch. At the same time, I threw the lit newspaper at the river of paint thinner. It didn’t catch.
Shit shit shit!
The Leech screeched and flailed, trying to dislodge the trap. I raised the gun to my shoulder, aimed, and fired. To my immense relief and surprise, it worked. But the sight was way off; I had hit it in the shoulder.
Flesh exploded and the force of the shot caused it to fall backwards, screaming again like nails on a chalkboard. I frantically reloaded and took another shot. Nothing happened. Fumbling and on the verge of full-fledged panic, I took out the dud bullet, threw it aside, and loaded the next one.
I aimed again, trying to compensate for the faulty sight, and pulled the trigger. Its screams cut out abruptly.
Trembling and nearly hyperventilating, I approached the creature. It was most definitely dead. Its head was obliterated. Brain matter and bone fragments splattered the door behind the body, sliding slowly down the glass, leaving trails of gore. Its leg was clamped by the bear trap at the ankle, the metal teeth slick with oily blood.
My vision went spotty and I stifled a sob, trying to take deep breaths to keep from passing out. This was worse than the mantis. B
ecause I did this wholly myself. I killed this creature who was only trying to survive like every other animal. Not only did I kill it, I hunted it. Stalked it for days and came up with a sick plan to murder it.
But I was just surviving too, right? I tried to convince myself. I was on the food chain now. I had no choice, I just needed to use more creative methods to kill my prey.
A dark haze began to rise from the carcass, and with another sob I reached towards it, closing my eyes and trying to steady my breathing. I felt an electric tingle as my hand passed through it.
I was overcome with emotion; despair, fear, elation, tranquility, guilt, everything and more that I had ever felt while I was alive. I fell to my knees and gasped, unprepared for this even though I had experienced it before. This was something I would never get used to. Not even if I was here for eternity.
When it finally faded, I stood slowly, legs wobbling.
It worked.
The hunger, the emptiness inside, was gone again. This was what I had to do to survive, I had confirmation now. The knowledge horrified me.
I had the monster’s blood on my knees and fought the urge to frantically scrub it off. Instead, I gathered my wits, trying to avoid looking at the remains of the goat’s head, and extracted the bear trap from its ankle, cringing and trying not to gag.
I put my things in my wheelbarrow and headed home, numbness overtaking me. I needed it to; if it hadn’t, I would have had a breakdown. I wanted to just give up and let myself waste away, because I definitely didn’t want to have to do this every few weeks.
But I’d have to.
CHAPTER 38
ANNA
God, I hated geometry. I sat hunched over my desk, resting my chin on my hand. This was the last final of the year; I just had to get through it. Tapping my pencil on my desk, I read the question for the tenth time.
Explain the isosceles triangle theorem. Give at least two examples to support your answer.
Seriously? I knew the thought was cliché, but when would I ever use this knowledge in the real world? I imagined myself on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, the million-dollar question giving me four multiple choice answers for what the isosceles triangle theorem is. I probably still wouldn’t remember.
I sighed and moved on to the next question, my optimism about passing the final exam decreasing by the second. It wasn’t surprising given that I had been so distracted recently.
I risked a glance across the room at Becca. She was nodding to herself with a small smile on her face, clearly confident in her answers. I should have taken her up on her offer to study together.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Just one short burst. I had an alert. I was itching to check it but Mrs. Miller’s class was definitely not the place to do it; she’d be on that in a heartbeat. I’d have to wait.
The bell rang. I sighed in relief and also disappointment. I’d answered about ninety percent of the questions but was only confident in about three of them. I shuffled out of class and leaned against the lockers. Becca nudged me with her shoulder and scooted up next to me.
“How’d you do?”
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” I said miserably.
“That bad, huh?” Her face fell.
I grunted in response and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had an email. Clicking on the envelope icon, I pulled up my inbox.
I had a response from [email protected]. My eyes widened and I stood up straighter. Becca was rambling about something but I wasn’t paying attention.
“Uh, hello?” she said, noticing I wasn’t listening.
“Just…shut up a second.”
“Geez. Fine,” she said with a huff, noticing that I was reading something.
This is Jackie’s mother. She no longer uses this email address. I apologize for the delay in response, I was visiting Jackie. You can write her a letter if you would like. She hasn’t gotten any from friends in a while, and I am sure she would appreciate it. Address below.
Patient Jackie Figueroa
Care of: mother, Charlene
Room 204, Psychiatric Ward
Saint Mary’s Hospital
Augusta, SC, 30904
I looked up, eyes unfocused, thoughts spinning. Becca ducked her head to catch my gaze.
“What is it?” she asked, concerned.
I handed over my phone without a word. She scanned the email and looked up at me, confusion and surprise written on her face.
“What…what does this mean? Psychiatric ward?” she whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening. Students were rushing around, anxious to start their summer breaks, the last day of school finally over.
“I don’t know,” I said, finally meeting her gaze, “but I really would like to find out.” I thought for a moment. “Are you up for a road trip?”
“Seriously? You want to go visit a stranger, who is crazy by the way, in case you missed that part of the email, in South Carolina? Are you insane?”
“If there’s any chance I can get some more info besides what John can tell me, I need to take it. I’ll go by myself if I need to.”
“Obviously I’m going with you, dumbass,” she said, rolling her eyes, and my heart leapt. “How the hell are we going to convince our parents?”
“Lie, obviously. I’ve gotten pretty good at it recently,” I responded, feeling a little guilty. I was scared but I needed to do this. “We can just tell them we want to go on a celebratory, post-graduation road trip. You’re eighteen. I’ll be eighteen next week. We’re responsible adults, right?”
“I don’t know about the ‘responsible’ part,” she said skeptically.
“Graduation is the day after tomorrow, we can leave right after. Get a cheap hotel that night, visit the hospital the next day.” I was checking Google Maps. “It’s only four and a half hours away. That’s not bad; at least it isn’t in Oregon or something.”
She groaned. “Worst road trip ever.”
“Becca,” I said. “You don’t have to do this. I can go by myself. I really didn’t want to drag you into this in the first place.” I hadn’t told her about my latest session with John. I was trying to figure out if I would tell her at all, and if I did, I was going to leave out some major details. This was already hard enough for me to process, and I had seen it with my own eyes.
“I’m not letting you do this on your own.” I saw the sincerity in her eyes and knew there was no way I was going to change her mind. I gave her a hug, trying not to tear up.
“I love you, Bec. You know that, right?” I pulled away and looked at her. She smacked me on the shoulder, giving me a sheepish smile.
“Of course I do. Now let’s get out of here and never come back.”
~
“Hey, you okay?” Aaron asked in a whisper, nudging me from the next seat over.
“Yeah, just tired,” I responded, mustering up a smile. I picked at the sausage on my pizza, trying to summon up an appetite.
The cross country team got together at the end of every year for a celebratory dinner at Sully’s, the local pizza joint. I felt awkward and out of place this time, a fraud among my friends. I hadn’t run in the last meet and our team had sucked all year.
I tried my best to participate in the conversation and laugh in all the right places, throwing in a comment here and there, trying to hide my preoccupation and anxiety.
I felt a twinge of apprehension when Aaron offered to walk me back to my car parked a few blocks down. Well, my mom’s car, the one I had been borrowing since mine got turned into a pancake. I couldn’t think of a way to decline without feeling like a bitch, so I agreed.
We walked in awkward silence for the first minute or two. The vibe between us was different, and I didn’t like it. I could tell by the easy smile on his face that he didn’t reciprocate.
“So, how are you feeling?” he finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know, the car accident? Your arm? The whole reason you abandoned the team i
n its darkest hour?” He looked at me with a smile and raised an eyebrow.
“Oh.” I felt my face flush. “I’m fine. The doctor said everything looks great on x-ray.”
“That’s good.”
More awkward silence. I could see the car and tried not to make it obvious that I wanted to pick up the pace.
“Well, thanks, Aaron,” I said, turning my back and reaching for the handle.
“Hey, Anna?” He put his hand over mine to stop me from opening the door. My heart skipped, mostly in anxiety, but with a tiny bit of anticipation as well.
“So.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked down. I could see the blush crawling up his neck. “I figured since school is over, we could go out sometime, you know, to like, keep in touch.”
“Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.” I could feel my skin get hot, my face probably the same shade of red as his. We stood there for a moment, him gripping my hand and me trying not to pull it away.
This felt…weird. But I was also kind of flattered by the attention. I had only been asked out a couple times, and both times the date was a disaster. I usually kept to myself. I had a few select friends I was close to, but was never the type of person to dive into a group and try to get to know everyone. I guess this is why I’d never had an actual boyfriend, I just never wanted one. Maybe I was a late bloomer in that department. Or maybe just an introvert. Probably both.
My heart started racing when I noticed the look on Aaron’s face. I was pretty sure he was about to try to kiss me. I turned away and reached for the door with my other hand, the one not caught in his grasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him visibly deflate. I felt awful, but I couldn’t add more drama to my life right now.
Once the door was open I turned back to Aaron and gave his hand a squeeze and let a smile warm my eyes, trying to convey that this wasn’t total rejection. He stood up a little straighter and grinned half-heartedly at me.