I leaned against a large, oblong-shaped boulder, crossed my arms, and watched as my father gently placed the remains of my meal next to me. Before he opened his mouth to speak, he took a deep breath, cracked his neck to the left and to the right, and then exhaled as he rolled his shoulders.
“Ben and I had a very disturbing conversation today. He was reluctant to talk to me, but after you took off this morning, you left him no choice.”
Shit! This is not about the hike. I never thought Ben would have a detailed discussion with my father about our relationship.
I would have preferred he talked to Duncan, my mother, or even Jack—anyone but my father. Instead of releasing the scream that was building in my lungs, I offered a distraction to my stomach by picking at the plate beside me. The food wasn’t just cold now; it’d lost all flavor.
“I think you are well aware that your mother is dying. She has breast cancer and who knows how long she will survive without proper medical treatment.”
My jaw froze. Slowly I lifted my eyes to meet my father’s gaze. He continued. “Hope is the only thing keeping her alive. I won’t let you take that away from her, Leo. How can you be so selfish?”
What the…
I spit out a mouthful of partially chewed meat. Of course, I knew my mother was sick and I’d suspected cancer, but I had no idea they knew what kind.
“Selfish! Me? You and Mom haven’t even had the decency to talk to us about her illness. What about Linc? How in the hell am I the selfish one here?”
My father didn’t bother to respond. He tilted his head to stare at the early evening sky. Then he paced back and forth, his fingers tugging anxiously at the clipped white beard lining his sharp chin.
“You and Ben’s relationship has made her so happy. She smiles every day now. She laughs. Your mother’s the one who suggested the party so she could celebrate. She danced, Leo! And now Ben tells me you don’t want children, that you refuse to have sex with him? The next generation must be born. Your mother’s life depends on it. My legacy depends on it. We need you pregnant. A baby is hope. And without that hope your mother will die.”
My jaw dropped. Too stunned to speak, I listened to my father, the crazy tyrant, thunder on.
“A grandchild will give your mother the strength she needs. If she sees you pregnant, she’ll fight, she’ll hold on. True, she may not live to see the child born, but at least she’ll try. Don’t take that chance away from her, from us. Just knowing that a life is growing inside you… As her daughter, you owe your mother this. If you can’t do it for her, think of Lincoln. He still needs his mother. Ben loves you and I know you love him. Sleeping together is the most natural thing you can do as a couple. A baby is the reward of your sacred union. I will not allow you to kill your mother! You must get pregnant.”
Tears were already streaming down my face when I found enough of my voice to speak. “A baby can’t stop Mom from dying. Nothing can change that for her, for you, me, and definitely not for Linc. You’re out of your mind. This won’t be my fault. Her illness and death isn’t anyone’s fault. And my sex life is none of your goddamn business!”
I stepped forward and poked my finger in his face to punctuate every word just to make sure he got it. “I…am…never…having…a…baby.”
Something dark stirred behind my father’s pink eyes as his right hand shot out like a piston to clamp around my finger. The pressure from his fist was so intense I thought the bone would break, but instead of crumbling under the pain, I leaned closer, my nose almost touching his when I opened my mouth and screamed.
He shoved me away, shaking his head with one hand covering his left ear. “You will do as I say, even if I have to lock you up and tie you down. You will give us a child.”
I stood there shocked and in pain as the magnitude of what he implied finally sunk in.
He’d have me raped to gain a grandchild.
“You wouldn’t dare! And Ben would never… Have you been drinking? Because you’re not thinking clearly. My body, my decision. You taught me that when I first started dating, remember? This is my choice. I won’t let you guilt or threaten me into having a baby. End of conversation.”
I left my food sitting on the boulder and ran as fast as I could away from him. But he wouldn’t let me have the last word. He shouted after me. “Don’t force my hand, Leo! Don’t make me do it!”
Tears blurred my vision and sobs escaped my lungs as I sped along the darkening riverbank. My familiarity with the path didn’t keep me from stumbling over exposed roots and loose rocks.
Is he serious? Would he tie me down and force Ben to rape me? No, he can’t really mean what he said. My father loves me, and he loves Ben. He’d never do that to us. So why did he say he would? And Ben? Why did he tell my father all of that? And then not tell him how we’d already had sex? Does he feel bad over breaking his promise? Is Ben hiding his shame?
I tumbled to the ground on hands and knees several times only to get up and continue running. I needed to escape. I needed to forget every word that had exited my father’s mouth, but I knew I never would.
I shot past the bunker and kept on going.
Swirling winds pushed a black veil of clouds over the evening stars. A storm was coming and I didn’t have supplies for a night alone in the woods. That thought made me pause.
Then I remembered my father’s last words. “You must give us a child.”
My legs pumped faster.
I’d rather face the natural dangers of bad weather on the mountain than go back and be subjected to the terror my father was planning. Part of me refused to believe he’d go through with such a horrible act, but another part of me knew he was capable of carrying out his threats.
Ben wouldn’t allow it.
I slowed my pace.
Neither would Duncan.
I stopped, kneeled, and rested my head in my hands, taking a minute to catch my breath.
All I need is to get to Ben and Duncan. If the three of us confront my father, he’ll see how ludicrous it was to have even uttered those words. It has to be a case of temporary insanity.
I stood up.
He’s worried about Mom. He’s worried for Linc and for me. He’s scared and doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t realize what he was saying. It’s all a big misunderstanding. He didn’t mean it.
I turned around and started the long walk home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My father stood on the outer north-side perimeter with a torch in one hand, his rifle balanced over the opposite shoulder with his finger on the trigger. A gusty wind battered his fraying trench coat and drove his long white hair across his weathered face. In the shadows of the flickering flame he looked like a phantom—or a demon.
When I stepped out of the trees and into his line of sight, his posture stiffened. He raised the gun off his shoulder and pointed it my way.
I almost laughed. “Thinking about shooting me?”
My father stepped forward, lowering the gun barrel to the ground. “Of course not. I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I figured you’d run off for at least a day, maybe two. So does your return mean you’ve come to your senses already?” That eerie darkness flashed behind his eyes again.
I nodded. My senses were fine.
When my father took another step in my direction, fear forced me to back away. “Where’s Ben?”
“Last time I saw him he was hanging around the river, probably waiting for you.”
Darting past my father, I ran for the bunker. I was getting my pack and then going after Ben.
We’re out of here.
It took little time for me to change and grab my stuff. I even scooped up Ben’s flowers and note in my cashmere throw, tightly stuffing it in my pack. After a quick trip to the pantry, I ran straight for the river. Ben and I were leaving. The old Cape Cod with the dead family I had come across several days ago would provide plenty of shelter for a night or two.
I’d made my essential rounds without anyon
e taking notice. Those covert games with Lincoln had really paid off. Once outside I expected to run into my father. I wasn’t prepared to see him, but I knew to expect it.
Where is everyone?
The night was black and eerily quiet. The only sound was raindrops pattering, softly tapping the leaves before falling to the ground, and the distant rumble of the river. I saw no one on patrol. Not on the roof or along the perimeter.
When I reached the rising riverbank, I found it just as spooky and empty. No Ben. I didn’t want to leave him behind, and I didn’t want him to think I’d left without a word, but I couldn’t go back. Not now.
A twig snapped behind me, causing a chill to run down my spine. I wasn’t alone. I turned hoping Ben was just returning my surprise attack from the other day. I needed to see his beautiful face.
“Ben?”
A towering figure—tall, lean, menacing and definitely not Ben—stood way too close. How did I miss his approach? The broad-shouldered mass wore head-to-toe black. Even with the face concealed under a ski mask, I knew instinctively it was a man. A heavy leather glove wielded a piece of stained fabric. The hand snapped forward and held the cloth in place over my nose and mouth. I recognized the sweet smell of chloroform. Duncan often used it with any number of medical procedures. The stranger pushed hard against me. The weight of my pack and slick leaves under my feet threw me off balance. I went for my knife even as I fell backward. The pain of something hard slamming across my wrist exploded up my arm. Through a blurry haze I lost my grip on the hilt.
The cloth lay gently over my face as the attacker freed me from the bulky pack. I couldn’t see anymore. I heard the rustling of fabric, felt the tugging at my clothes, and then the cool night air and light falling rain against my bare skin. The sound of a zipper…
Gunfire woke me. My head spun as I quickly scrambled to my feet. I surveyed my surroundings the best I could while fighting to gain my footing. The moon peeked around the breaking clouds to reveal empty trees and bushes along the shoreline. The guy in the ski mask was nowhere in sight. I patted myself down with both hands. My clothes were damp but fully intact. Buttons buttoned, zippers zipped. My knife and camping pack were resting next to a big oak tree, also seemingly untouched.
What the hell happened?
I went for my blade first but was reluctant to pick up the cumbersome pack that contained everything I needed to survive. My choices were limited, either I strapped the pack on or I had to drag it behind me. And both options were a risk if the attacker was still lurking about. Just because I couldn’t see anyone didn’t mean they weren’t watching, waiting. Although I was really the one who was waiting.
Damn it, Ben, where are you?
I’d started to drag my pack away from the old oak when a shower of leaves rained down. A dense shadow high up in the tree swung from branch to branch, swiftly making its way down. There was no point in running. I stepped away from the pack, prepared to fight what was about to land in front of me.
Is this Lincoln’s monster? No wonder Harris never saw this thing.
The smooth skin smeared in dark shadows gave the beast perfect night camouflage. Flowing black hair and pointy ears reminded me of elves I’d seen in movies and read about in books. The heavily muscled chest and ripped abs were bare, the bottom half dressed only in a simple pair of black drawstring pants.
He captured my stare with upturned, pumpkin-colored eyes before dropping to the ground without a noise, the wet earth cushioning the fall and concealing this unnatural presence. Strong arms stretched open to welcome me, but all I could gaze upon were his two large hands with a crescent-shaped claw at every fingertip, ten in all. I inched away, trying to move out of arm's reach.
The creature swaggered forward with a growing smirk. Then the mouth opened and stark-white incisors flipped down, thin and sharp.
I’ll still fight you.
Bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, I readied myself to move in any direction. Gripping my knife, I watched its hands and bare feet, which were also clawed. One blade against twenty claws… I faced a death machine…
I barely had time to register the move as it pounced. Dropping down, I raised my blade to its gut. The skin was tough, but with a little extra push I buried my knife to the hilt. Blue fluid the consistency of smashed berries oozed over my hand. I gagged at the overly sweet smell of burnt sugar. The creature howled. Turning, I tried to slice the stomach open, but the beast disappeared before I got the chance.
I jumped to my feet and ran, but I was slammed from behind and lifted into the air as if I were an unsuspecting field mouse swooped up by an eagle—except we weren’t flying. The beast had only jumped. I twisted, kicked, and slammed my knife into the arm that held me by the waist, and I loved the sound of the creature’s ferocious cry.
It let go and I landed on the ground with a huff. Though not hard enough to break bones, the impact stole the air from my lungs. I struggled to get to my feet through painful gasps. My lungs screamed at me for moving. I managed two steps before I was flipped over flat on my back, the beast pinning me with its entire body.
Somehow I succeeded in hanging on to my knife. I tried to angle the blade down to cut the hand gripping my wrist, but the beast moved both of my hands over my head and clamped them together in one big clawed fist. After a moment, it simply pried the knife from my numb fingers. I smashed my forehead into its face. Once, twice…
It threw a forearm under my chin, cutting off my air supply. “Stop fighting me.”
It can talk.
It moved its face closer to mine. “I have no intention of killing you, but I am very hungry.” The voice was raspy and deep.
Squirming as much as I could, I tried to slither out from under the creature, but it only pressed down harder until I saw spots and then closed my eyes.
Playing dead might be my only chance to escape. Don’t breathe. Calm my heart. Relax. Limp. Dead.
The pressure on my throat eased. I wanted to breathe but I didn’t. Hot, moist breath hissed into my ear. “That won’t work either.” Gasping, I opened my eyes.
It smiled, and then laughed.
It’s laughing at me.
Sputtering and coughing, I shook my head. This isn’t happening.
Releasing my hands, it moved to its haunches, straddling me. It continued to smile while tilting its head left and then right as it watched me. I threw a right jab to the bridge of its nose only to have my hand captured again, its claws raking but not breaking through the skin. A deep rumble grew in its chest, a growl that turned to laughter again as it licked at the ends of my sticky blue fingers.
“Fuck you, chuckles!” I screamed, digging my nails into its wet, fleshy tongue. One black brow rose slowly over a burning orange orb. Wrenching my arm over my head, it struck my neck. There was a horrible searing pain at my throat as razor-sharp teeth pierced the vein.
Oh, god, it hurts.
I screamed with fear and agony. A hand slapped over my mouth and the other pressed against my stomach, at first to hold me down, but as I weakened from the loss of blood, the hand explored my body through my jacket. There was nothing I could do except wait for the moment those sharp claws impaled me, just as they had Margaret.
Dead Day # 1,448
Leo wouldn’t listen. She thought only of herself when she refused to see the wisdom behind my words. That’s why I took everyone off watch and sent Jack to the river. He’ll see the deed is done. I refuse to think of the act itself. We took precautions, knowing Leo would fight back.
Jack’s her friend, and I know he’ll keep her safe. Evils are sometimes necessary. So, I focus on the future. I have to think of my legacy and of my wife. My plan gives everyone exactly what they want. Jack gets to live out the fantasy of sleeping with every women left on Earth, Ben will get to take care of the woman he loves by providing all the support she’ll need, and once the baby is born, my daughter will know more love than she ever dreamed possible. It’s also her future I am protecting.
Population: 21
Rations: 173 days
CHAPTER NINE
I’m alive, but I should be dead. I’m moving but not walking… Someone’s carrying me.
The sounds of the forest were all around me, except there wasn’t a single footstep rustling the forest floor. I only sensed the movement through the person who held me—superior strength and superior grace. I felt his powerful strides advancing as he clutched me to his solid chest, the strong arms that cradled my damaged body.
Can the dead dream? No.
There was no way of knowing how long I’d been unconscious. My memories were slow, spotty, coming back in short blasts of terror that started with the recollection of my father’s demands for a grandchild. I remembered running away, being attacked by a man in a mask, and waking up on the ground alone, the hungry beast dropping out of the tree.
Are the attacker and the monster one and the same?
I tried to recall the struggle. I’d stabbed the strange monster in the gut and made it bleed.
I hurt it.
The monster had retaliated by taking a chunk out of my neck.
It hurt me back.
I cringed as I remembered the terror and the agony I felt while it fed from my vein. An odd sort of throbbing in my neck quickened as my heart raced. How am I still alive? Panic stole my breath and uncontrollable twitches jerked at my limbs. The arms holding me tightened in response, restraining my erratic movement.
The Dead Days Journal: Volume 1 Page 6