Shriekers | Episode 1 | The Scarecrow Man

by Jay, Jess

  With all the strength she had, Thea pushed the shrieker back, feeling its needle sharp claws digging into her arm through her jumpsuit, breaking her skin. She planted her feet underneath her, forcing herself off Jojo, knees bent, body straining against the inhuman strength of the creature.

  “Go,” she said, each word a battle. “Jojo, get out of here.”

  The girl sat up but didn’t run, her braids coming undone and eyes wide.

  “You gotta go.”

  Jojo didn’t move. She just continued looking out into the field, unable to watch what was about to happen.

  Vines brushed passed Thea’s hair and ventured across her cheek, reaching for her eyes and mouth, for the holes punctured in her arm… She jerked her face away and clamped her eyes shut, but it was pointless—she couldn’t get away. It was over. The end.

  Live.

  A thud knocked the shrieker away, the shock of the impact releasing Thea from its grasp. She fell to her knees, ripping off her baseball cap and shaking out her hair, patting down her body, trying to brush the ghosts of the green from her skin. Her brain struggled to function, to focus, to process what happened. She stood, turning to the shrieker and saw him.

  Jack.

  Breath came to her in a gasp, her heart forgetting to beat for a moment before thumping fast as if to make up for its lapse in function. Jack was on top of the shrieker, holding it down with impossible strength. She stared in shock for longer than she should have.

  “Help,” he said, exasperated, spurring her into action.

  She ran for her shotgun, diving for it, grasping onto it. As she scrambled to her feet, she took it firmly in both hands, body moving on its own, on instinct.

  “Let it go,” she shouted, her voice more confident than she felt as she planted her feet to the ground. “I got it.”

  Jack let go, jumping back. The shrieker sprang to its feet. Thea racked the gun and fired. The creature stumbled backward as Thea strode forward, pumping the gun before firing again, knocking it off its feet.

  It wasn’t enough.

  She tossed the shotgun to Jack before grabbing the knife from her boot and jamming it into the skull of the abomination through the eye socket, pushing it in deep as it would go. The shrieker let out a howl, its body spastic, jerking.

  It wasn’t enough.

  “We have to set it on fire.”

  “What?” Jack stared at her as if she was crazy. Maybe she was crazy, but she didn’t want a repeat of the night she brought Jojo home. She left the witch untouched, and it ruined her life.

  “If its cries haven’t summoned another shrieker already, they’re not going to,” she said, not sure she was telling the truth, but it sounded good enough. She needed to know it was dead.

  “Fine,” Jack didn’t sound convinced. “The road is safer.”

  With a gesture for Jojo to stay, Thea helped Jack with the body as it thrashed and struggled, trying to remove the knife. Silently, they worked together, acutely aware that it could regain control of itself at any second and kill them both. Jack had been lucky before—the shrieker had been distracted. Thea wasn’t confident he’d be successful taking down a shrieker who was alert and angry, but she felt better with him there.

  As they dropped the shrieker on the pavement, it reared up, lunging for Jack. Thea rushed over to him, pulling at the creature and trying to get it off, but it was too strong, too frenzied.

  “The knife!” she yelled to Jack.

  His eyes snapped to the blade stuck in the shrieker’s skull. His good hand grabbed it, yanking it free then stabbing it into the monster’s other eye socket, further than Thea had been able to. The creature cried out and collapsed, a mess of flailing limbs and frustration.

  “Hurry!” Jack barked.

  Thea bristled at the obvious statement but didn’t falter, dropping her pack to the ground and digging out her only bottle of lighter fluid and a box of matches. She yanked off the cap and dumped the bottle of accelerant over the shrieker. Jack took the matches before she could light one. Her hands had lighter fluid all over them. She had been so frantic she almost burned herself.

  Jack lit a match and tossed it onto the shrieker. The cry it howled into the night was a familiar one. Vines snaked out of its body, vibrating, calling out to any others who might aid or avenge it. Fire engulfed the creature and burned through it, lighting the night.

  She watched as it burned, needing to know it was dead, only remembering Jack was beside her when he put a hand on her shoulder. She wondered what he read in her expression that caused the gesture but appreciated it all the same. She was glad he was there. But how was he there? Why was he there? As if to answer, he looked back toward the house and toward Jojo.

  Thea remembered the little girl with a start and grabbed her pack, rushing through the field to the house. She found Jojo next to the entrance of the cellar, knees pulled tight to her chest. A flurry of emotion flew through Thea: relief, worry, guilt. Rushing to the girl, she knelt in front of her, checking to see if she was hurt, to see if she was okay. Tears dried on the girl’s cheeks, an emotion between irritation and gratitude on her face until she looked passed Thea at Jack, who had followed her.

  For a moment she was still, and Thea thought it was from fear. Then a huge smile spread across her face and she rushed over to him, hugging his legs tight. He froze, then patted her on the head.

  “You two know each other?” Thea asked the obvious.

  “From home,” Jack said, shrugging.

  Thea dug into the pockets of her pack and pulled out the picture Jojo’s mom had forced her to take, thrusting it toward Jack.

  “You’re from this place?”

  Jack looked at the photo for a second, then at Thea, his eyes guarded as he nodded. Hope shot through her like a bullet.

  “How can this place exist?”

  Jack shrugged again, expression dark, and Thea realized it didn’t—not anymore. Both Jojo’s family and Jack left or had escaped whatever happened there. That was why Jack acted strange when he saw Jojo before. He recognized the girl’s fair features, knew Thea wasn’t Jojo’s family and wondered why her family wasn’t with her. She wouldn’t blame him if he suspected her of kidnapping Jojo or killing her parents. He followed to make sure Jojo was okay. He was a good person and she had left him behind. She tried not to feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and his expression became more clouded. He was upset with her and she couldn’t blame him. “I was just trying to protect her. Her mom gave me that photo and told me to take her to the Pasture. I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

  Jack stared at her, and she looked down, unable to keep his gaze. Her eyes fell on her arm, seeing the dried blood on her jumpsuit sleeve, remembering the shrieker’s claws digging into her.

  “It’s okay,” Jack said, and Thea looked up at him, distracting herself from her thoughts. “To the Pasture then.”

  She realized he was inviting himself along, and while she was going to allow him to come with them despite whatever condition he had, she hadn’t asked him yet. He could have at least waited. He read the irritation on her face and the end of his mouth turned up. Thea pressed her lips into a line.

  “Fine, you can come along,” she said, knowing whether or not she said the words didn’t matter. “But I’m in charge.”

  His smile became more real.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The cellar of the abandoned house was dusty, with roots and vines cracking through sections of its cement walls and the wooden floorboards of its ceiling. A couch and chair sat under sheets in one room and old mattresses were stacked in a pile against the wall in another. In the light of their solar lamps, Thea and Jack piled two mattresses next to the couch. She worried he would set his up next to hers, but he placed them at the bottom of the stairs, in front of the exit. It was the most dangerous place to sleep, and she wondered at his decision-making abilities until she realized he was doing it to protect them. The realization flooded her with appr
eciation and a sense of security she hadn’t felt in years. It affected her more than she would have liked.

  She tried to focus on anything other than him but found herself looking his way as she fluttered blankets into place, as she unpacked things they needed, as she made herself look busy so she could steal glances at him. He was cleaner than the last time she saw him: his stubble had been shaved, his dark hair now light and wavy. His features were well proportioned and well placed with kind if not occasionally mischievous eyes, and a pleasing when not obnoxious smile. He was tall, perhaps half a foot taller than her, and leanly muscular. She liked the way he looked, liked the solid way he was built. Her hands trailed to a stop as she watched him unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a tank top. The cool basement became uncomfortably warm, and she wanted to slip out of her jumpsuit, but wasn’t willing to walk around in only a tank top and pair of shorts. That didn’t mean he shouldn’t.

  Jojo smacked her hand down on the couch next to her and Thea snapped back to reality, hoping the dim light masked the red tinge on her cheeks. Grateful Jack hadn’t seemed to have caught her ogling him, she sat on her mattresses and busied herself with unpacking food from her backpack. As he sat down across from her, she resisted the urge to show off the selection of fruits and vegetables she had dried, pickled, and preserved. It had been difficult for her to get the technique right, but she had succeeded and was proud of it.

  Her bubble burst when he pulled something better from his pack: protein mix. A spoonful mixed with water could make soup, a spoonful of water mixed with the powder could make a paste. Both were unpleasant, the texture horrible and the taste worse, but she yearned for it. Her eyes followed his hands as he poured some powder into a bowl and mixed in a little water.

  Jojo slipped from the couch to the mattresses next to him, peering over his shoulder at the bounty in his hands. He offered her the bowl without hesitation, and Thea stopped herself from making a sound. The girl was growing. She needed the protein more than Thea, but Thea was human and couldn’t stop feeling jealous.

  She refused to watch as Jack prepared a bowl for himself, and instead she opened one of her own containers and started eating the peas from earlier. She knew she could ask him to share but couldn’t form the words, as if there was some invisible barrier inside herself that she couldn’t get past. They were traveling together, so they were going to have to work together and share resources. She was grateful he was willing to guard them and that he saved them, and more than happy for his help, but something stopped her from willingly putting herself in his debt. The years of solitude, of being totally and completely independent, had changed her in ways she didn’t understand or fully realize. When she told him he could come along she felt the physical need to say she was in charge. No matter how relieved she was to have someone else to lean on, she didn’t want to relinquish control. People were complicated and it hurt her brain.

  A small smirk lifted the ends of his mouth and she made a show of enjoying her peas. She didn’t need his protein mix. She didn’t want it. She was fine with what she had. He chuckled, then held the half-eaten bowl out to her. She cast her pride and peas aside and grabbed it but stopped herself before devouring it like an animal. She still had some dignity. He raised his eyebrows, not in surprise but in expectation, his smile growing more annoying.

  “Thank you,” Thea said, restraining herself as she used her fingers to eat the paste with as much dignity as was possible in the situation. The protein mixture was worse than she remembered, but the familiar taste still brought back memories and feelings of home. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes, but she denied them access, denied the emotions welling up inside her.

  When she finished what was left of the protein paste she shared some peas with him. He smiled as he took them, and she felt her body stiffen and her face become hot as their fingers brushed. She turned to Jojo in an attempt to hide her blush and the girl glared, nibbling on a piece of fruit she had pilfered from Thea’s pack. For a moment Thea thought the bag of potato chips had caused her stomach to upset, but that wasn’t it. She had found her amid processed food wrappers. Wherever Jack and Jojo came from had access to processed food and protein mix.

  Her curiosity overpowered her desire to be delicate and she started to ask him about where he came from but stopped when she saw him staring at her. His expression was serious, as if evaluating her. All at once, she had to be somewhere else.

  With her heart hammering in her ears, she stood and left the room, closing the door and plunging herself into darkness. Of course, she forgot to bring a lantern. Of course, she did. Muttering under her breath, she marveled at her ability to lose all common sense when Jack was involved. Something about him made her feel like she was six years old and desperate for the approval of an older kid, trying to show him how mature and capable she was. It was silly and pointless, but she didn’t know how to stop, how to get her brain under control.

  With the small light from the flashlight in her belt, Thea ventured into the uncharted corners of the packed basement. Boxes upon boxes were piled in sections, paths cut between them, most of the cardboard decrepit with time, and the few clear, plastic containers preserving nothing of value. At least, not to her.

  As she came to a closet at the end of a tight path, she wished she hadn’t left the warm light of their camp but didn’t let the fear prickling her skin deter her. She had to come back with something so she could say she went off with a purpose.

  A lantern dropped on the boxes next to her with a clatter and she jerked back into someone—into Jack. She could smell his scent and feel the heat of his body. He was close—too close—but the narrow aisle didn’t give them much of a choice. She didn’t move, didn’t turn, forgetting how to act like a normal person, if she even knew how to act like a normal person.

  “Thank you,” he said, his breath tingling the back of her neck and sending her mind and heart into overdrive. She almost missed when he continued, struggling to speak and breaking up his sentence to give his voice time to rest. “For letting me…come along.”

  She didn’t trust herself to find words that made sense, so she opened the closet and rustled through it as if she were looking for something to release her nervous tension. She tried to keep herself busy and her mind full of things that weren’t Jack, but her stomach wasn’t as cooperative, fluttering as if full of butterflies.

  …So, that’s what the idiom meant… She had read it in a book once, in a sentence right before the love interest kissed the main character. She closed her eyes to shut out that unproductive thought as if doing so could block out mental images. She needed to say something. It would be weird if she didn’t respond.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s everything.”

  He smelled of sweat and earth and…something familiar. If she turned to look at him her shoulder would brush against his chest. This was different, different from anything she felt before, either with her family or with Jojo. She had to focus to keep her breathing steady and her mind clear. It wasn’t a fairy tale or destiny—it wasn’t even a crush—it was the fact that he was strong, and sturdy, and smelled like family… Like…her soap.

  She turned, knocking into him and taking a step back into the closet, cold reality chilling her to the core.

  “You…” The word came but no other words followed, the thoughts and accusations too horrible for her mind to process. She was reeling with embarrassment. His handsome face looked startled and confused, then a little guilty. She pooled her courage and forced the rest of the words out.

  “You were at the river.”

  It hadn’t been Jojo crunching on the potato chips that she had heard, it had been him. No, that couldn’t be. She had searched the trees and didn’t find anything. But Jojo had followed her around the entire time she was searching, crunching the chips and possibly telegraphing where they were. It wouldn’t have been difficult to avoid them and stay out of sight…

  When he realized she knew, he had the dec
ency to turn red before nodding and admitting the horrible, evil thing that happened.

  “What did you see?” She didn’t want to know, but she did, though she didn’t.

  He looked down and ran his hand through his wavy hair before settling at his scaled neck, rubbing it.

  “Not much,” he lied like a lying liar. Though if he was going to lie, he should have said he saw nothing.

  She wished she was dead, that the shrieker had eaten her from the inside out. She knew the feeling would pass, logic would return, and she’d be happy to be alive, but at that moment death was preferable to knowing someone had seen her unguarded and unclothed. It was her own fault for being careless, but she couldn’t handle shouldering both the embarrassment and the blame, so she blamed him.

  “Out of my way,” she said, barreling past him.

  He caught her arm and she winced with both mortification and pain as his grip squeezed where the shrieker dug its thorns into her skin. His expression became serious as he tugged her closer and pulled up her sleeve, revealing the puncture wounds.

  “When did this happen?” he asked, his eyes serious. She knew what he was thinking. He was probably right.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “When?”

  “When do you think?” She didn’t want to dwell on it or confront what it might mean. There was a chance there was nothing growing inside her and that she would be fine. She squared her shoulders and held her head high, almost defiant, meeting his gaze. He let go, walking past her without saying a word.

  He came back with a first aid kit and cupped her elbow, guiding her to a small stack of plastic boxes and sitting her down with a gentle pressure on her shoulders. His face was intent as he knelt in front of her and dabbed a liquid over her wounds. The cold disinfectant stung, and she hissed in a breath, causing him to glance up at her with a hint of humor on his lips.

  His stone-covered hand held her arm still as the other administered treatment, cleaning the wounds then covering them with adhesive strips. His touch was delicate and gentle, though his efforts were ultimately for nothing. The wounds would be closed by the morning, but she liked the attention, enjoyed being taken care of for the first time in a long time.