Black Eyed Children 02 Devil's Rise

by Sara Clancy

  Finally free, she pushed her way through the swarming crowd, heading towards the restaurant. It was nearing the end of winter and it seemed that everyone was desperate to sneak in one final family trip. Kids were everywhere and it grew impossible for her to check each one’s eyes as they passed. Her skin bristled as if waiting for tiny hands to rip her flesh apart.

  It’s daylight. They never came during the day. The reassurance helped her breathe a little easier the first time it passed through her mind. But the more she repeated the promise to herself, the less comfort she found in it. As she steered clear of the gift shop, the hallway widened and the crowd began to thin. She was able to move a little better, but her muscles still twitched with brimming panic.

  The large building consisted of two levels. The bottom housed a gift shop and a café that opened out onto a picnic area. A long, curving staircase, completely covered with tiles that held the mud and grime of passing feet, rose up to the second floor. At the top, the bleak staircase gave way to the brightly lit restaurant. Since the walls were all constructed of glass, the rustic style layout doubled as a 360-degree lookout, with the kitchen enclosed in the middle. It was possible to head to the roof for a better view, but no one dared to venture out during the winter. Especially since the open space had no wind breaks.

  Ruby jumped up the last few steps when her shoulder smacked against someone coming down. Instinctually, she turned to apologize. That’s when she saw him. A little boy at the base of the stairs. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t speaking. He just stood there, staring at her with eyes that were completely black. Her foot slipped over the edge of the stair. Pain cracked along her back as she smacked down against the sides of the stairs. People scattered around her. Some trying to get out of the way while others drifted closer to see if she was okay. Ruby’s insides turned to ice as she sought to catch sight of the child again. But he was lost amongst the cluster of shifting limbs. Her knuckles ached as she grabbed the hand rail and hurled herself up. Her ribs ached with every thundering heartbeat until she finally found the child again. Laughing happily, the little boy disappeared around the corner, carried by his father as they headed towards the gondola. It was just a trick of the light, she realized as her muscles turned to goo. Calm down. Breathe. You’re seeing things.

  A hand gripped her shoulder. Her shriek rolled off the walls, the sound drawing more attention. It only took her a second to whip around, but that was all Tristan needed. With a flash of teeth and a few words, he managed to calm any concerned watchers and send them on their way. It surprised her how quickly she calmed down when he finally turned his vibrant blue eyes onto her. Blue. Normal. Real. As her fear ebbed away, embarrassment rushed in to invade the vacant space.

  “Well, that’s a sane reaction,” Tristan said as he pulled his hand back from her shoulder. Completely unconcerned by the crowd, he rested against the wall, crossing both his arms and his ankles. “Chef sent me to get you. Apparently, you’re taking forever and that is somehow my problem.”

  “I was just on my way,” she stammered.

  For a moment, he simply watched her, his features twisting up slightly. Then his brow furrowed.

  “You really don’t get facial expressions,” he said. Shaking his head, he continued, “Well, come on. Your food is getting cold.”

  Not sure about where to go next, she fell into step behind him. “What was your expression?”

  “Oh,” he said, his voice light. “I was looking at you like I had very strong concerns about your mental health. You should memorize that look. It probably comes up a lot.”

  Ruby took a sobering breath and swallowed down her growing resentment. Tristan weaved effortlessly through the crowd, always a split second from hitting into someone but never actually making contact. Ruby wasn’t as graceful as she followed along behind him, her hands twitching with the fading residue of her paranoia. Different aromas caught her attention as they rounded the bar. But it wasn’t until they passed through the swinging door that the humidity of the busy kitchen hit her like a tropical breeze.

  People rushed about, busy with the start of the lunch service. The chefs yelled out orders, their words weaving within the constant chatter of the wait staff and the hiss of the dishwasher bellowing fresh gusts of steam. Tristan seemed to hold a dozen conversations at once with each of the passing servers. She couldn’t figure out how it didn’t confuse the hell out of everyone. Without breaking stride, he snatched a plate off of the warming tray and slipped down a short hallway. Ruby hurried to collect her own plate and follow him into the staff room.

  The door swung shut behind her and brought with it a sudden, drastic silence. Since they had been the first two to start, the rest of the tiny room was empty. Crowds might offer the promise of safety, but it was also excruciating to try and interact with that many people for extended periods of time. A long sigh slipped from her lips. She choked on the breath as Tristan spun around to look at her.

  “What is it?” she asked, one hand lifting up to press her earpiece more firmly into place.

  She couldn’t hear anything apart from the usual chatter and static buzz.

  “I forgot you were there,” he said at last.

  He made a little hum in the back of his throat before selecting a seat and starting his meal. At a much slower pace, Ruby chose a chair at the only other table in the room. It was hard to decide if she should be embarrassed or insulted. She supposed it didn’t matter. Either one would be better than the fear that still filtered along the pit of her stomach. Pulling out her phone, she opened her book app. The pages of text spread out across the screen. Instantly, memories bombarded her. She was back in the cabin in the middle of a forest. The scent of a wood fire tickled her nose and the ghostly sensation of book pages flittered across her fingertips. Three sharp knocks echoed within her ears.

  Her stomach wrenched. Bile splashed across the back of her throat, the burning sensation lingering as her phone slipped from her grasp. Her fingers trembled as she clutched her hands to her chest and pressed down until her rapid heartbeat slowed. They’re dead. You burned them alive. Gradually, her panic attack ebbed away and she was left staring at her plate of cooling spaghetti. It took all of her willpower and a few more assurances for her to pick up her fork. She was just about to take a bite when she heard Tristan make a noise behind her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she snuck a glance over her shoulder. But he wasn’t interested in her. His attention was once again fixed upon his phone.

  “Damn, people are weird,” he muttered under his breath. Noting that he had her attention, he wiggled his phone again. “The coat thing. Have you seen this yet?”

  “Coat thing?”

  “It’s all over the staff Facebook feed.”

  Her brow furrowed. “There’s a staff Facebook page?”

  “Oh my God,” he said under his breath.

  The legs of his chair clattered across the floor as he shot to his feet. He didn’t bother to walk around the table that separated them. Instead, he slid over it. The moment his foot hit the floor, he spun, dropped into the seat next to her, and held up his phone for her to see.

  Two snow coats of vibrant colors were draped over some of the spiky branches of an evergreen pine. The sun had begun to melt the layer of snow that clung to the fabric, but had yet to get enough strength to chip away at the ice.

  “I don’t get it,” she said.

  “They’re the coats of the skiers.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “The skiers?”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Hundreds pass through here.”

  “Unbelievable,” he said as his eyes flicked across her face. “It’s like I’ve discovered an alien creature.”

  “I existed before I met you,” she reminded him.

  Tristan ignored the comment as he continued. “Last night, two skiers got turned around on one of the trails. They were only reported missing this morning. The search crew just found their coats.”

  “Why would they tak
e off their coats? It’s freezing.”

  “My, what new and startling information you bring to the table.” He was silent for a moment. “It’s very stressful that you don’t know when I’m mocking you. I want you to know that.”

  Ruby didn’t reply straight away. She couldn’t read the annoyance on his face, so she waited until the exuberant man was shifting relentlessly.

  “Understood.”

  He pointed at her as his other fingers curled around his phone and blocked her view of the photographs. “This is why people don’t talk to you.”

  “Understood.”

  “Oh my God,” he muttered.

  With a dramatic flourish, he retreated to his own table and waiting meal, all of his interest in her spent for the time being. When she was sure that he wasn’t paying attention to her, she snatched up her phone and quickly found the Facebook page he mentioned. The photograph lit up her screen and she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.

  They’re dead.

  It was a certainty that sunk into her bones. Her only doubt was who she meant; the children or the skiers.

  Chapter 3

  What traces of warmth the day had managed to garner, fled the moment the sun started to dip towards the horizon. Clouds clustered together as the temperature dropped, creating a fine mist that rolled over the floor of the gondola drop off area. Over the months, Ruby had painstakingly learned how to protect herself from the ravages of the bitter mountain winter. She bought good quality clothes and layered them well, fighting off even the slightest traces of cold with everything at her disposal. Because, when the wind blew in a certain way, when the cold seeped into her bone, she couldn’t fend off the memories of those three nights of blizzards and the growing risk of frostbite. Of struggling through the forest with the devil at her heels. Of the pain and exhaustion that almost made death seem like the better option. Despite her best efforts, her mind drifted now, leaving her frozen both inside and out.

  “Ruby!”

  Ruby jolted as she turned to look at the photographer, startled that the woman had learned her name. The flood of visitors had thinned into a slow trickle, making it easy for them to make eye contact across the room. The photographer rolled her eyes and tapped her earpiece. It was then that she noticed that her radio was crackling.

  “Ruby, are you there?” her boss called through the line, hidden amongst the buzz and a hint of static.

  Grabbing hold of the next gondola to pass with one hand, she fumbled her gloved fingers around the button.

  “I’m here. Sorry, Nina.”

  She heard her boss sigh heavily over the speaker. Is that an annoyed sigh or a tired one? Frustration churned in her stomach, smothering her nerves slightly. It would be nice to have a hint if I was in trouble, Nina. A useful one.

  “Did you hear the question or do you need me to repeat it?”

  “What question, sorry?”

  Ruby still hadn’t figured out where she was supposed to look when she was talking on the radio. So her gaze continued to roam, flicking from one person’s eyes to the next. Small crowd or not, the concrete kept in the noise and forced her to push her earpiece deeper if she was going to turn the buzz into actual words.

  “You know about the missing skiers, right?”

  Ruby waited. The staff line was open, allowing any worker with a radio about to check in. To her surprise, Tristan didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve heard about them, yes.”

  “Well, the search crew haven’t been able to find them yet. They’re worried about running out of daylight before they reach the peak.”

  Nina paused and Ruby frowned.

  “Okay,” Ruby prompted.

  “Thanks.”

  “Thanks?” Ruby shook her head. “Wait, what’s going on?”

  “You’re agreeing to stay up here to work the gondola for the crew,” Tristan’s voice cut over the line.

  Ruby’s stomach dropped so fast she felt sick. “I always go home before nightfall.”

  “Well, this is an extenuating circumstance,” Nina said.

  “I have to be home by nightfall,” Ruby said empathically. “I can’t be out at night.”

  “Are you on some kind of very strange probation?” Tristan asked.

  Nina and Tristan’s voices faded into a tangled mess of muffled sounds as they argued. Ruby couldn’t garnish any meaning from the words as her mind spiraled. They come at night, a voice screamed within her head. Sweat beaded against her palms, making the lining of her gloves damp and clammy. They come at night. Pressure swelled against her ribs with every frantic heartbeat.

  “I can’t be out at night!”

  The conversation on the radio came to an abrupt halt, along with a few others that were taking place around her. Ruby was beyond caring. Every second she waited for a reply was wrapping her brain in barbed-wire.

  “You won’t be,” Nina said. “They estimate getting up there with at least ten minutes before the last rays.”

  “The ride down takes fifteen,” Ruby countered.

  “Relax, Ruby.”

  “Tristan, I will find you and smack you,” Ruby snapped.

  “Wow. That’s some mighty fine violent tendencies you have there,” Tristan replied instantly. “But as I was saying, you’ll be fine. I’ll be here with until ten, when other people arrive. And, because I’m a great person who is willing to forgive your threats of aggression against my person, I’ll even walk you to your car.”

  “See?” Nina said. “The gondola is completely safe at night, I promise you. The stars won’t even be out yet by the time you get home.”

  Ruby slowed another carriage and waited for people to get on. “I don’t want to do it.”

  “If you don’t, you’re leaving two people to spend another night mountain side,” Nina said.

  “That’s not fair,” Ruby said in a whimper. “Isn’t there someone else?”

  “You’re the only one that knows how to work the gondola,” Nina said.

  “That’s not true.”

  Nina sighed again.“I can’t get anyone else in and I need to pick up my kid.”

  Ruby could feel ice begin to encase her as she glanced out at the thickening mist. The scent of the approaching snow twisted through the air. The skiers don’t have their jackets, a voice reminded her. Would they be able to last the night if there’s a storm? For all her fear and panic, there was one last trace of certainty. I can’t leave them here. Closing her eyes, she swallowed thickly.

  “Promise I won’t be alone?”

  ***

  Ruby stood on the edge of the platform. The machine churned and cranked, drawing the carriage into the mist until it was barely more than a shadow. She watched as it disappeared, taking the last of the staff with it. Then she was alone. The rotating carriages continued to pass her. They all swayed, the motions producing soft clunks and creaks that seemed to taunt her.

  Lifting her chin, she searched for the sun. Barely able to penetrate the thick mist, it had been reduced to nothing more than a splotch of orange hovering towards the horizon. It was impossible to tell how many hours of daylight there were left, but she could feel the night coming, bringing with it a bitter cold that slithered into the building even as she stood there.

  Tightening her arms around herself, it struck her how deadly silent the world had become. It was as if the fog had killed everything. That the end of the platform was now the edge of existence. But still, the feeling of being watched returned. Ruby released a staggered breath and the sensation grew. She couldn’t stay there.

  Turning, she crossed the fog filled room, quickly making her way towards the main building. The concrete floor echoed her steps. Then it echoed someone else’s. She could hear them behind her, climbing up over the edge, following her in. It was a soft sound, almost lost within the noise of the machinery. But she didn’t hesitate. Sprinting forward, she hurled herself across the threshold. The footsteps were still chasing her, coming closer as she dug her fingers into the wall
to search for the metal fence that served as the door.

  In her struggles, she hadn’t noticed that the mist had refused to cross the doorway, as if some unseen obstruction had been keeping it out. Now, as she desperately shoved her hands deeper into the gap, fingers fumbling over the metal edges, the mist crept forward. Not as gas. Instead, the bleached air gathered to form a dozen human figures. The ghostly mob crawled towards her, limbs severing and dissipating as they moved faster than the encroaching mass. The limited features of their faces distorted grotesquely, mouths gaping wide with screams she couldn’t hear as they lurched ever closer. Ruby sobbed with relief as her fingers hooked around the side of the gate. The metal squealed as she forced it along its tracks, pulling it shut between her and the horde. She quickly slid the latch lock into place and stumbled back. Eyes wide and chest heaving, she watched the fog pool against the open bars of the gate like liquid, never seeping through the gaps, but bubbling up until every inch was filled with the fog. It sealed her in. Burying her alive within the mountain top structure. A sharp scream escaped her as her earpiece suddenly crackled. The sound of static filled the open line before dying once more. She groped at her microphone, trembling fingers barely able to push the necessary button.

  “Nina?” she whispered.

  The moment she released the button, a sharper static filled her ear, as if an unseen hand had cranked up the volume. It droned and spiked. It was an entirely unfamiliar sound. Feedback assaulted the line every time someone who was already wired got too close to another radio. But there was something about it that was off. Wincing, she clicked the button again.

  “Nina, there’s too much static. I can’t hear you.”

  There was a little click as she surrendered her hold on the button and the line lapsed back into the static. She continued up the stairs, nearing the bend, the shadows reaching out for her like an icy grip. From amongst the broken shards of the constant sound, a tiny voice emerged. It started small. Barely more than a whisper that twisted through the chaos without ever changing in tone. Her fingers gripped the handrail with a crippling force as the sounds became words. A sentence.