The Reaping

by M. Leighton

  I pushed that disturbing thought to the back of my mind as I had arrived at the forks. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road, got out and headed for the forest.

  I jogged through the woods, toward the clearing, eager to get in and get out. When I arrived, Fahl was already there, in his tall, blond form, waiting for me.

  “Good. You’re here,” he said in a deep voice with traces of a Swedish or German accent. It was strange to be standing face to face with the man that had been spying on me and Derek at the beach. His long hair glistened in the moonlight and a satisfied smile graced his handsome face. “Three things. First, picture the black house. Can you see it?”

  When he jumped right in like that, it took me a minute to catch up. I shook my head, as always too distracted by him to think very clearly.

  “Close your eyes and concentrate,” he said more slowly, his voice becoming soft and hypnotic. I did as he said. “Can you see it?” I could hear the leaves crackle under his weight as he approached me.

  Focusing, I conjured up the image from my dream, just as haunting and intimidating as it had been while I was asleep. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, think of the symbol on the girl. That’s the door you’ll use.”

  I nodded, eyes still closed so I wouldn’t lose the image.

  “And, Carson,” he whispered, his voice right at my ear. “Don’t forget our deal.”

  I got that cold spider web sensation again and then a terrible taste invaded my mouth. I opened my eyes just in time to see Fahl start to move past me, through me. His body began to shake and shimmer and then he was gone, his odor the only sign that he’d been there at all.

  Closing my eyes once more, I pictured the black house. I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to do that so I kept my focus on the image.

  The first things I noticed were changes in ambient noises. There was absolute silence, an eerie stillness that speaks of an inherent lack of life and all things living. Then I started to feel dizzy. When my feet began to feel wet, I opened my eyes to see what was going on.

  I looked down. I was standing in water up to my knees. I looked up and around. Up ahead, I could see the black house hovering on the moonlit horizon. I was in the pond that I’d seen my father floating in.

  With a shriek, I started running, which was a slow, wet process in any amount of water.

  When I reached the shore, I walked toward the black house. In my peripheral vision, I could see shapes moving inside the shadow, just like in my dreams, but I kept my focus on the task (and the house) at hand.

  I moved cautiously up the steps and stood in front of the narrow front door. I looked back and, just like before, the pond was gone. Only the crisp field remained.

  I turned back toward the house and looked down at the door knob. It, too, was just as I remembered—silver with an intricate design etched onto its surface. I bent to get a better look.

  Best I could tell in the dark was that the knob was divided into four quadrants. In each quadrant was a different design. I recognized two of them. One had vines with tiny leaves and delicate flowers. The other was flames, just like the ones on my back.

  The other two were unfamiliar to me, but I thought I knew what they meant. One looked like waves in a tumultuous sea, the other swirls of silver. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say water and wind, the other two of the four elements. The two I suspected that my sister could control.

  I reached for the doorknob and the instant my skin made contact, my insides caught fire. Never in my life had I felt such an intense, indescribably horrific pain. I gasped, filling my lungs with burning air. I let it out on a blood-curdling scream that I thought surely echoed into the other world. When my chest was empty of both fire and air and I could scream no more, I listened as other sounds began to fill the dead silence. Shuffling, dragging, moaning, gurgling.

  I pushed through the pain and turned my head to the right as much as I could. And I saw them. The dead were all around me, closing in on me where I stood on the stoop.

  With every ounce of strength I had, I twisted the doorknob. Luckily, it turned easily and I all but fell inside. I lay on the floor, immobilized by the excruciating pain. I could see the door from my position, and the dead just outside it. I knew in my current state I wouldn’t be able to defend myself and, as my mind raced with thoughts of what they might do to me, my heart raced with terror.

  The dead mounted the steps slowly, dragging dangling limbs and wobbling on broken legs, bumping into one another. A man made it to the top first. He wore only a grungy dress shirt that hung in tatters from his bloody shoulders. I could see teeth marks on nearly every visible inch of skin. There were even chunks of skin missing from his cheeks and chin. And one eye socket was a gaping black hole in his head.

  I watched, terrified, as he stepped to the door. I tried to get my legs to move, but I was still in too much pain.

  As he took the next step, the step that would bring him into the house and within inches of my foot, he stopped with his foot in midair. He set his foot down and looked at the doorway. He raised his leg to take that step again, but once more he stopped.

  Anger contorted his mangled features and he raised his hand toward the doorway. I could see the palm flatten as if it were pressed against an invisible barrier. He tightened his fingers into a fist and beat at the doorway, but still he couldn’t pass through it.

  Relief flooded me and as I watched the others approach the door and try to get in, unable to. And, slowly, my pain began to subside.

  When it had lessened to something more like menstrual cramps (only in every muscle of my entire body), I sat up.

  And I saw that I had no legs.

  Panic erupted from the churning pit of my stomach and I felt the blood drain from my face. I reached down to touch the empty space where my flesh should’ve been and I felt…my legs. I flexed the muscles in my right thigh and felt them contract under my fingers. Puzzled, I wiggled my toes. I felt the material of my socks and the rigid toe of my shoes. I bent my legs at the knee, preparing to stand—or try to anyway—and that’s when I saw the hint of an outline, an outline that looked like my legs.

  As I moved them, I could see the hardwoods through them, through my legs. They shimmered and danced like I was seeing them through heat waves. I thought of the way Fahl shimmered when he walked through me and realized it must have something to do with traveling through the Darkness.

  Then, right before my eyes, my arms began to fade. I pushed myself onto my feet and looked down at my body. My trunk was fading as well. I could just barely see the faint lines of where my body stopped and thin air began. To the untrained eye, there would probably be no difference. To most people, I’d be invisible.

  A familiar voice interrupted the unhealthy escalation of my emotions. I recognized her words as well. It was the girl from my living room floor, the girl that would soon be dead if I didn’t find her in time. And, though she might be anyway, I was determined to do everything within my power to prevent it.

  Pushing my transparency and implications thereof out of my immediate thoughts, I turned in a circle, examining the halls that sprouted off in different directions from the hub in which I stood.

  Now, think of the symbol on the girl. That’s the door you’ll use, Fahl had said.

  “But which hall is it in?” I said to the empty room. It was no surprise when no answer came. Knowing time was quickly running out, I tried to imagine which direction the voice had come from. I decided it was definitely from my left so I chose the hall closest to me, on the left, and I took off down its dark length.

  I stopped in front of the first door, straining to see the symbol etched onto its front. It was too triangular to be the right one so I moved on. The next one I came to was similar, but still not right. It had too many horizontal lines. Next.

  I performed this same examination on every door down that hall. I was beginning to think I’d chosen the wrong hall when I was down to the last three doors. Door number three was all
wrong. Its symbol was circular, not at all what I was searching for. Door number two looked close, but it was missing a vertical piece that I was pretty sure I’d seen. I was beginning to walk on to the last door when I saw another stroke appear.

  It was as if the symbol was forming as I stood there. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I could see the vertical piece that it lacked, as well as the final horizontal line, come into view as I watched. When the last line was drawn, forming the symbol I sought, it shone brilliantly for about three seconds then started to blacken, as if it were tarnishing, fading right before my eyes.

  Taking a deep breath and sending up a silent prayer to the God I was beginning to think really was up there, I twisted the door knob and stepped through.

  And there I was, in the room with Nathan and the girl. And I wasn’t too late. I watched as the girl rose onto her feet in the center of the bed.

  “You deserved that. And more!” The girl was shouting at Nathan and I knew her threats would come next. “Just wait until people find out what kind of a monster you really are. Only a total loser has to take what he wants because no one is willing to give it to him. And that’s what you are—a monster and a loser.”

  It was like the scariest déjà vu ever. And just like in my vision, I watched Nathan’s face blanch and the girl become smug.

  As the blood began to fill Nathan’s face, one thought rolled on a loop through my head because I knew what was coming. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

  I watched the surreal scene play out as if in slow motion. Nathan’s face turned beet red and he shook with rage. Then there was the cry, the one that proclaimed he was out of control and homicidal. It still sent chills down my arms, just like it had earlier.

  I watched him jump up onto the bed and grab the girl by the throat. My mind scrambled for what to do. That’s when I saw Grey outside the window, watching. In reality, the look on her face was hunger. And pleasure. And that spurred me into action.

  Distract him, I thought.

  Concentrating on the curtains, I lit them on fire, hoping that would distract him long enough for the girl to escape. He didn’t even notice. I shook the ground, the bed trembling on its heavy frame. Nathan didn’t pause. He was intent on killing the girl.

  I saw the fire burning higher and hotter and wondered if I’d acted too impulsively. Just then a vicious wind blew open the window and rain started peppering in on the curtains, quickly dousing the flames.

  And my eyes met Grey’s. Her lips twisted in a dark, satisfied smile that enraged me.

  I looked around frantically for something to use as a weapon, but I heard the girl’s choking sounds begin to fade. In desperation, I leapt up on the bed and kicked Nathan in the head as hard as I could.

  Dazed, he sat up, releasing the girl’s throat, his body weaving dizzily. I took advantage of the opening, curled up my fingers and punched him as hard as I could in the jaw, knocking him back onto the bed.

  I screamed at the girl, “Get up! Get up!” She didn’t move. I bent to look into her face. Her eyes were open and she was conscious.

  “She can’t hear you,” Grey said, appearing on the other side of the bed.

  I reached down to grab the girl by the shoulders and shake her when a mighty wind blew through the window and knocked me off the bed and into the wall across the room.

  The gale force of the current pinned me against the wall. Helplessly, I looked back at Grey. She held one hand out toward me and with the other, she was flicking her fingers at Nathan’s face.

  “Get up, loser,” she was saying.

  I watched helplessly as Nathan sputtered and sat up. Disoriented at first, he looked down at the girl. I held my breath, hoping he would forget his deadly intentions. I was encouraged at first when he got off the bed. But then I heard Grey whispering something. She was chanting below her breath.

  I watched Nathan go to the dresser and pick up a handheld mirror. He broke it against the wall then bent to pick up a long, jagged shard. I looked back to Grey. She was still chanting, nodding in approval as he walked slowly back to the bed.

  “No,” I screamed, but no one seemed to notice. Was he hearing Grey or was she doing something else to him to get him to do her will, influencing him somehow?

  I had to stop him. And I had to stop Grey—without killing her. I closed my eyes and pictured the black sweater and jeans she was wearing. Then I pictured them on fire.

  I didn’t open my eyes until I heard her screams then I turned my attention to the boy. With Grey distracted with the flames, the wind died down and I slid to the floor. I sat back on my haunches and watched Nathan as he lofted the piece of mirror over his head, aiming roughly for the girl’s face and neck. And I pictured his hands on fire.

  Suddenly, they burst into flame. He shook his fingers and jumped back as if he’d touched something hot. But there was no escaping the fire that was consuming his flesh. Not unless I willed it.

  As he hopped around the room, squalling, shaking and swatting his hands in the air, I hurried to the bed. I put my hands on the girl’s shoulders and urged her into a sitting position. I grabbed her legs behind the knees and turned her around until her feet dangled off the edge of the bed.

  Grabbing her hands, I pulled her off the bed and hurried her to a door on my side of the room. I opened it up. It was a closet, nearly empty, so I shoved her inside. I closed the door behind me and turned my attention back to the two people on fire.

  The flames were working their way up Nathan’s arms. He was on the floor writhing in pain. In my mind, I doused the flames and they dwindled to nothing, leaving only charred and melted skin in their wake.

  Grey was not in as bad a shape. She had walked to the window and let the rain blow in on her, effectively extinguishing most of her flames. Her eyes were on me. And they were murderous.

  The wind began to blow again, even stronger this time. Quickly, I was pinned to the wall again, but then I was sliding along it toward the other door in the wall.

  As I neared it, the wind blew it open and I was propelled inside, slamming against another wall, this one above the tub, which was full of water.

  My heart beat pounded against my ribs and thumped in my ears. A knot of fear lodged in my throat and my mouth went dry.

  And then I was under water. I struggled to lift my head, but I couldn’t. It was as if huge invisible hands held me under, hands that were impossible to move. I tried to clear my mind enough to focus on Grey, but panic had taken over. My worst fear was coming to pass. I was drowning. And it was all I could think about.

  In the back of my mind, I saw my father and Derek and remembered that this was the deal I’d made. If I was to free them, I had to let Grey kill me. But something in me, some primal part of my spirit, wanted nothing more than to survive. And it fought. It fought hard.

  I kicked my legs and flung my arms, but there was nothing to grab onto, nothing to help me. My lungs burned with the need to breathe, but still I fought. Then my head started to spin lightly, an almost pleasant feeling amid the turmoil I was otherwise feeling. My arms got heavier and heavier until they felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. It got harder and harder to move them.

  I shook my head to clear it, but that only served to make it spin faster. And then the urge to breathe was just too much. I opened my mouth to gasp and…air filled my lungs.

  I coughed and sputtered, struggling to catch my breath. When finally my head began to clear, I was more confused than ever. I opened my eyes to look around and saw Grey hovering over me, her hands on my shoulders.

  Then anger struck.

  “Why did you save me? I was almost gone. I could feel it. Why did you do that? I’m supposed to die!”

  Grey shrugged nonchalantly and leaned her hip against the sink, her red hair cascading over her shoulders.

  “A, it’s not that easy. See?” She held out her arms, which should’ve been burned to a crisp, yet there was not so much as a single blister to indicate she’d been o
n fire. “And B,” she said, stepping to the edge of the tub and bending down to whisper in my ear. “I have other plans.”

  With that, she straightened, gave me a chilling smile and then she was gone.

  I sat in the tub, silent and dumbstruck, trembling in the aftermath of what had happened. A low moan startled me into action.

  Rolling out of the tub, I was on my feet and through the door in a flash, only to find Grey hovering over Nathan, her teeth buried in his neck.

  “Grey! What are you doing?”

  She ignored me, sucking voraciously on his artery. My mouth watered and my throat burned with sudden thirst. My gums ached and the throb of another pulse beat in my ears.

  With a thump, she let his head drop back to the hard floor and she stood. “You can’t save everyone, Carson,” she said, wiping her forearm across her bloody mouth. “And now I have help.” And then she was gone. Really gone.