***
Al cut at the vines and pulled at them with her bare hands. Thorns began to grow on them and she ignored the cuts, cursing her own blood for making them slick. Molly joined her in pulling, her best friend’s mouth drawn in quiet determination.
Pete was banging the window now, trying to force it open from inside.
“Move aside,” Hector said, pulling sand from his pocket and throwing it on the vines. The vines browned and shriveled a bit, but it still took all three of them to pull them loose.
“Pete, open the window,” Al screamed over the terrified screams from within the bus. Blood splattered one of the back windows and Al forced herself to focus on Pete. Keep looking at me, she willed her sister.
“Just open the window!” She screamed, wishing the despair didn’t ring in her voice so deeply.
Pete was banging on it, but it wouldn’t go down, wouldn’t budge or open.
“Stand back!” Al screamed, and she slammed Big Bertha again the window. It cracked on the first hit, and shattered on the second.
“Come on,” Molly was pulling Pete out of the window before Al had regained her footing from the second hit.
“What about the others?” Pete screamed.
The day turned dark and winds slammed into them. Al looked up. The sun was still out, but it was dark. The shadows that would usually be cast on a sunny day suddenly turned to light. Hector grabbed them and pulled them out of the bus’s shadow of light, moments before it lit everything on fire.
The scream rose to a fervent pitch for one second in the bus before stopping, the scent of burnt flesh tossed about in the wind. The water surged behind them and columns of it danced up, taking equine and human shapes.
“Run, run, run!” Molly screamed, grabbing Pete and Alva’s arms. Hector led the way. Mists came off the water and slammed into them, knocking them to their knees.
Percival wasn’t far, now. Just a few more metres. They could get in and drive away. Gruff was screaming at them to hurry. He was in the passenger’s seat, the car on and ready to move, the driver door open and the seat leaned forward, beckoning its passengers.
The mists danced back and forth and they pulled themselves up.
“Look out!” Hector screamed at Al, his face contorted with grief as she looked down. She’d stepped into a perfect circle of mushrooms. She felt something zap up her leg, but before she could scream or even fear what was happening to her, Molly tackled her from behind. She was either moving her, or she hadn’t seen what had been happening, too frantic to escape.
Al fell down. Hector and Pete helped her up. Al turned to grab Molly and keep running, but her hand was stiff as she took it.
Al met her best friend’s eyes. Where there was usually laughter and kindness was only fear. The hand she held was a branch now. Al pulled her hand out as thorns pierced her skin.
“Alva?” Molly managed to say in a broken voice, the tears streaking down skin turning to bark as her face vanished completely, swallowed by bark, leaf and thorn.
Al stared. She was gone in an instant, in mist and the strange dark day, swallowed by a still forming bush, branches writhing up and reaching for them, like hands pleading for help.
“Molly?” She repeated, reaching forward. Hector pulled her back. Alva looked at him in anger, but stopped herself from snapping when she saw the tears lining Pete’s face. She placed an arm around Pete’s shoulders as yellow blooms erupted on the rose bush that had once been Al’s best friend.
Not yellow like the sun. Yellow like Molly’s hair had been. The only rosebush that would ever bear that colour. The only one that ever should.
“We have to go,” Hector whispered. The winds began howling. Al’s braid whipped sideways, but the rosebush wasn’t fazed at all. Like it didn’t belong to this world anymore.
To any world.
“I’ll come back. I promise,” she whispered into the gale, helped Pete and Hector into the back and shut Percival’s door to the howling winds.
Al clutched the steering wheel, watched the yellow roses vanish in a sea of mists, and pulled the car off the road, away from her friend, toward more mist, to face a world she no longer understood.
The rosebush continued to bloom behind them, each flower covered in a fine layer of freshly-cried dew.
Epilogue
The watch lay quietly in Hector’s hand. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get it to wind up. He couldn’t even open it.
Stella’s other great-granddaughter sat sullenly beside him. He missed Molly, and he’d only known her for a short time. He understood what the Taverner girls were going through. What it felt like to lose your world.
To lose everything.
He understood the grief. The anger. The madness.
He held the watch in his hand and looked outside. The spare sand he’d brought was almost gone. He’d used so much of it already, just trying to keep them safe.
And if he used too much, he wouldn’t be around to help them anymore.
He looked up to see Al, back in the driver’s seat, observing him from the rearview mirror. Her eyes were still grief-lined, but determined. She intended to see her sister safe, if that was even possible.
The question was in her eyes now. Would they live?
He held her gaze for a time before looking away.
He had no answer to give her.
The End of Nigh 1
The tale continues in Nigh 2, now available at online retailers! Be the first to get updates by signing up for Marie Bilodeau’s eNewsletter: https://tinyurl.com/kqyl83n.
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Nigh - Book 1 Page 13