by Amy Cross
“You're even more pathetic than I thought,” he continues. “You're spineless, Rachel. You've actually let yourself become a pet! Friendly and Meanie? Are you serious? You sound like a goddamn, pathetic child.”
“I'm studying them,” I reply, wincing as I feel a heavy pain throbbing in my jaw. I reach up and touch the flesh, and my fingertips brush against a section of split skin. I don't think the actual jawbone is broken, however, so hopefully over time the swelling will go down. “I'm trying to figure out their language,” I continue, aware that my voice is difficult to understand right now. “I have a notebook.”
“Oh, is that your new excuse? You're a scientist now, are you?”
“It's true. That's why Meanie... I mean, that's why one of them attacked me earlier. I was studying this device they have, and I got too close. I'm going to make a breakthrough eventually, though. I'm sure of it. I just need to be more cautious.”
“Bullshit.”
“It's true.”
“You're just making excuses for your behavior. You're scared.”
“If I can understand them better,” I continue, “I can try to communicate with them. They have a language system, they're not dumb. Maybe no-one else has been able to get through to them, but I have a chance.”
“Oh you do, huh? You're smarter than everyone else?”
“That's not what I mean. I just have an opportunity. I'm lucky to get so close to them.”
“I don't care about any of that,” he replies, as I spit out more blood. “I just care about finding out how to kill them. Anything that's alive can be killed. Even those things. You just cut the head away from the heart and get rid of all the blood, and that's dead in my book.”
He watches me for a moment, as I use my tongue to feel the gap in my teeth.
“I saw what happened,” he continues finally. “I was real careful, but I crept to the house earlier and started peering through the windows. I saw a lot, Rachel. For one thing, I saw that creature damn near kill you. For another, I saw how you act around them. What the hell is that stuff that you were eating off the floor?”
“You were spying on me?”
“I was observing. You looked pathetic, like a goddamn baby crawling about on the floor. What was the gray goo?”
“It's how they feed me.”
He lets out a snort of derision.
“I don't know what it is,” I continue, “but it's nutritious. It tastes foul, it stinks, but it keeps me alive. I make bread sometimes, I forage for berries, but for the most part I live off that stuff that they give me.”
“You eat their shit?”
“That's not what it is!”
“It's sure what it looks like,” he mutters. “Whatever it is, it comes out of them, and no self-respecting human should be taking anything they offer. You should have been using this time to figure out how to kill them.”
“That was my plan at first,” I tell him. “It was only after a while that I realized maybe I could learn more about them. I still think -”
“You think you can communicate with them, I know,” he continues, interrupting me. “The thing is, from observing them today, I think I might have figured out their big weakness. Every beast has a weakness somewhere, Rachel, even these things. And when those two monsters were fighting over you earlier, I noticed that the smaller one seemed to threaten the larger one by moving toward the spot just here.”
He taps his throat, just beneath his voice-box.
“That made the bigger creature back right off,” he explains. “I know it's not a cert, but I think that might be where they're vulnerable.”
“You're clutching at straws,” I tell him. “I need to study their -”
“And you're trying to delay this!” he snaps back at me. “I can see it in your eyes. You still think this plan is too much, that it's too extreme. You want to keep studying them, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself. The truth is that you're scared, and you're comfortable with this new life, and you have no intention of honoring your family's memory by getting revenge against their killers.”
“That's not true,” I reply, bristling at the suggestion. “I want to communicate and try to -”
“Reason with them?” A faint smile crosses his lips. “No chance. They're monsters. Or is it too late for you to realize that?”
Reaching into his pocket, he takes out a small compact mirror, which he holds up so that I can see my reflection. I turn to look away, but at the last moment I catch sight of myself in the mirror and I'm shocked to see the huge bruise on one side of my face. My encounter with Meanie earlier really took a lot out of me, and frankly I barely even recognize myself. Unable to stop looking at my reflection, I realize that Frank might have a point. Maybe I've become too docile.
“When do they sleep?” he asks.
“I don't know.”
“Bullshit. You've been observing them for a while now. When do they sleep?”
“I really don't know!”
Hesitating, I realize that he doesn't believe me.
“They're less active at night,” I continue. “I sleep in one of the rooms upstairs, and I don't really hear them moving about much. They usually go into a kind of trance during the evening, and then they spend the night in separate parts of the house.”
Again, it's clear that he wants more.
“One night I went down to get some water,” I add, “and I saw Friendly in the dining room. He was very still, and his breathing had slowed, and I think maybe his eyes were closed.”
“So he was asleep?”
“Maybe. If you can call it that. It's not like they curl up or anything, but they go into these weird trances.”
“If they're asleep,” he continues, reaching down and picking up a long stick that he's fashioned to create a crude spear, “then they're vulnerable. This is a test-case, Rachel. I'm not running, not anymore. If these things can be killed, then I'm going to kill them. Maybe I'll die in the attempt, but maybe – just maybe – I'll succeed. And if this crazy plan works, we'll have the start of a revolution on our hands. We'll know we can fight back.”
“Against all of them?”
“At least it's a start!” he hisses. “To the best of my knowledge, no human has ever killed one of these things. That changes tonight.”
“Not tonight,” I stammer, “not before I've had a chance to observe their -”
“Tonight!” he continues, interrupting me. “You'd better be ready, because this is as good a chance as we're ever going to get. It seems like they trust you, or at least one of them does. And that's good, because it means we can catch them with their guard down.”
Taking the knife, he starts working on the tip of the spear, making it even sharper.
“It's time to stop being a goddamn pet, Rachel, and start standing up for your species. Unless you're hiding something.”
“What could I possibly be hiding?” I ask.
“The real reason they've been keeping you alive.”
“I told you, I don't know! As far as I can tell, one of them just decided to keep me around.”
“Then that's the creature's fatal mistake.” He sets the spear down and immediately starts working on a second. “These things killed my family. I can't rest until I've found a way to strike back at them. If you've got any kind of honor or pride at all, Rachel, you'll feel the same. Where's your anger?”
“Sure,” I mutter, even though deep down I still think this is a mistake. Reaching a finger into my mouth, I check the damaged patch in my gum, and I find that at least it stopped bleeding. For now. Until the next beating.
“You're not going to betray me, are you?” Frank asks, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Of course not,” I reply quickly. “Never!”
“Good,” he mutters. “I watched you nearly get killed today. I peered through that window and watched what that creature did to you. Even if you had any doubts before, Rachel, you have to see the truth now.” He checks the tip of the spear with his
finger. “Those things have to die, and they're just the start. Tonight, the human race is going to start fighting back. And even if we get killed in the process, at least we'll go down fighting.”
Five
The house is dark and quiet. Flat on my back in bed, I stare up at the ceiling and listen to the vast, overwhelming silence. I've had plenty of sleepless nights over the past year, of course, but somehow this is different. This time it's not sorrow that's keep me awake, or fear. This time I'm awake because I feel that something very bad is about to happen.
Frank doesn't understand.
I can fix this, I know I can, but I need him to back off.
Finally I roll onto my side and grab the metal stub I've been using to carve words into my bedstead. Sometimes I worry that I'll forget my old life, so lately I've been carving the names of my family into the wood, along with certain things I remember them saying. I could just write this stuff down, of course, but the carving feels therapeutic. Plus, having the names actually engraved into the bedstead makes them feel closer somehow. They're still a part of my life.
“Rachel!” a voice hisses suddenly. “Open up!”
Turning, I see a dark shape on the other side of my window. I knew Frank would arrive eventually, although deep down I was hoping he might change his mind and leave.
Getting to my feet, I avoid the creaking floorboard as I limp over to the window. As soon as I've slid the main section open, Frank starts climbing through, carrying the two spears in his hands. He doesn't make too much noise, although after a moment he steps on the creaking board and I immediately put a finger to my lips. In truth, I was considering not letting him in at all, but I guess that would be the wrong choice. After all, I should be on his side, and I should want to kill these creatures. Not just Meanie. Both of them.
“You're doing the right thing,” I imagine Dad telling me. “You're fighting back.”
“Take this,” Frank whispers, handing me one of the spears before tapping his throat. “Remember what I told you. Get them right here.”
I nod, even though I honestly don't know if I can do something like that. I've never hurt another living creature in all my life. Maybe if I was angrier, this would be easier, but for some reason I haven't felt much anger. Just curiosity. Maybe something's wrong with me.
“Think how good you'll feel once they're dead,” he continues. “Once you know you've done the right thing. These creatures aren't your friends. They're just like the ones that murdered your family, and the ones that murdered my family, and we have to start striking back somewhere. Even if they scream as they die, you can't show them any mercy. Is that understood?”
Again, I nod.
“Have you seriously never tried to kill them before?” he asks.
“Not since the beginning,” I reply. “As soon as I realized that Friendly was going to protect me, I kind of held back a little.”
Even as those words leave my lips, I realize how pathetic I sound.
“Past mistakes don't matter,” Frank tells me. “Tonight, we're going to put everything right. Tonight those two bastards are going to die, and they're just the first.”
He holds a hand out for me to shake.
“We're fighting back.”
“We're fighting back,” I reply, shaking his hand limply.
“So where are they?” he asks, leading me toward the closed door. “Did you check before you came up?”
“Friendly's in the -”
I catch myself just in time. I need to stop using those dumb names for them. Frank's right: I need to act more like a human and less like a stupid pet.
“The smaller one is in the dining room downstairs,” I continue. “The larger one is in the main bedroom at the top of the stairs.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
“I'll take the smaller one,” he replies. “That's the one you think is nicer, right? It'll probably be easier for you to kill the other one. Unless you want to do it the other way round?”
“No, that's fine.”
“You can do this,” he continues, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I can see it in your eyes, Rachel. You've got doubts, but at the end of the day you're too strong to betray your species. You know this is right.” He hesitates for a moment. “When we get away from this place, and we meet others like us and we start to fight, I promise I won't tell them what you did.”
“What I did?”
“Acting like a goddamn pet. I won't humiliate you by spreading rumors, I won't tell anyone how I saw you eating that stuff that comes out of them. I promise. I'll let you keep some dignity.”
“Thank you,” I stammer, although deep down I want to tell him that I'm not ashamed. Still, instead of inflaming the situation, I step past him and gently open the door, before leaning out and checking that the coast is clear. My heart is pounding, but I know I can't turn back now.
“Anything?” Frank whispers.
Stepping onto the landing, I realize that the whole house really does sound completely quiet. If I didn't know better, I'd start to think that maybe Friendly and Meanie have left.
“Let's do this,” Frank continues, heading along the landing and then starting to make his way down the stairs. He has his spear held high, and after a moment he glances back at me, as if to check one final time that I'm still on his side. “I'll meet you downstairs once both of them are dead.”
As soon as he's out of view, I turn and limp toward the door at the far end of the landing. Peering into the main bedroom, I see Meanie standing in the corner with his eyes closed. I still have no idea whether he's genuinely sleeping, or whether he's just resting, but I guess this is my best chance. I step into the room, taking care to not make any noise, but I keep the spear behind my back just in case he happens to notice me. Even from several feet away, the stench of Meanie's saliva is almost overpowering.
I freeze for a moment, squinting in the darkness as I try to make out his features. His eyes are definitely closed, and I guess that's all the reassurance I'm ever going to get.
So I step closer, while gripping the spear behind my back.
And as I do so, one of Meanie's eyes slips open, and I find myself staring straight into that vast, slowly expanding pupil.
I hold my breath.
A trickle of clear liquid runs down the eyeball, collecting on the lower lid.
He's going to kill me.
I know it.
My heart is beating so hard and so fast, I swear I can feel it pounding against the inside of my rib-cage.
Meanie's pupil continues to expand for a few more seconds, until it seems to fill the entire eye, and then the lids close as gracefully as they opened.
Did he not really register me?
Or did he not see me as a threat?
My hands are so sweaty now as I continue to hold the spear behind my back.
I have to do this.
Just as I'm about to get the spear into position, however, the eye opens again.
I freeze.
The pupil is still wide and black, and I feel certain that I'm staring into the void of some vast intelligence. I can just about see my own face reflected back at me, picked out on one side by an edge of moonlight. That must be how Meanie sees me: small and fearful, and lowdown, and easy to stamp out.
Holding my breath, I wait.
A moment later, Meanie lets out a long, slow sigh as his eye once again slides shut.
I should turn back.
This is a terrible mistake. I don't care what Frank thinks of me, I don't care what anyone thinks of me, I just want to walk out of the room and go back to how things have been. I was right to focus on studying these things, and to try to find a way of understanding their language. I'm not a savage and I know Dad and Debbie wouldn't want me to throw my life away in some desperate act of violence. They'd want me to be better than that.
So I take a step away, even though I know I'm letting Frank down.
Suddenly an anguished scream rings out through
the house. Turning, I look toward the door and try to work out whether the scream belongs to Frank or to Friendly. A fraction of a second later I hear a loud snorting sound over my shoulder, and I start to turn just as Meanie slams into my shoulder and pushes past me. As I fall against the wall, the huge creature smashes its way through the door and tumbles toward the stairs, and the scream continues to ring out from downstairs.
It's Meanie.
I'm sure of it.
A moment later I hear another cry, and this time it's Frank who seems to be in pain. There's the sound of breaking glass, followed by a loud roar. The whole house shudders slightly, and I'm knocked off my feet as I hear wood splintering in one of the rooms below.
“Rachel!” Frank screams. “Help me!”
I stumble toward the door and look out into the hallway, just as I hear the back door slamming open. Hurrying to the window, I see a figure rushing out into the dark, rain-lashed yard, and I quickly realize that it's Frank. He's struggling a little, limping as if he's injured, and I think I can make out pools of blood left behind in the mud as he makes his way toward the old barn. He's barely moving his right leg, as if it's damaged.
A moment later I hear another loud smashing sound from downstairs, and the house shudders once again.
Suddenly there's a thudding, crushing noise over my shoulder, and I turn to see Meanie smashing up the stairs, pushing through the railing and racing toward me. Dropping the spear, I stumble back against the wall, bracing for an attack as pieces of broken wood clatter to the floor all around me. Instead, Meanie leans closer and starts sniffing me.
I slump down, unable to stay upright on my trembling legs.
Meanie's two large eyes are staring straight at me, and now the pupils are as small as pinpricks.
What if he's searching for Frank's scent on me? What if he wants to know whether I was on Frank's side? He's probably already figured it out already.
He knows.
Hearing a faint groaning sound from downstairs, I realize that Friendly seems to be in pain.
“I didn't do it!” I stammer, as Meanie leans even closer. “I swear it wasn't me!”
I wait, and slowly his eyes start to narrow.