Until Dawn: Last Light

by Simas, Jennifer Nicole

  We zipped down the street, the rain stinging my bare skin. As Alec cut the corner to my street, we fishtailed. “Hold on!” he shouted back at me. The asphalt cracked beneath us and Alec cursed, doing his best to straighten out the motorcycle.

  Two bright lights shimmered through the rain as the truck barreled toward us. Its loud horn sounding as it skidded through the red light.

  The impact knocked the air out of me, collapsing my ribcage. I slid across the wet asphalt, the rough surface scraping my skin clean off. The lower half of my body crunched under the weight of the bike. Blood pooled around me as I struggled to free myself, screaming as the shattered bones in both my legs shredded through torn muscles.

  “Alec,” I breathed. My eyelids became heavy as the darkness consumed me.

  Chapter Four

  Six Years Prior

  "The movie wasn’t half bad, but I don’t think there was nearly enough action. I mean, why does a movie about bank robbers need a romance story anyway?” Jeff continued his cinematic critique.

  “How else would they make any money? They know that the only way to get a woman to sit through one of those blood and gore movies is to throw in a steamy romance,” Lindsay said matter-of-factly. “A few sex scenes for the guys and an ‘I love you’ or two for the girls. Everyone’s happy.”

  “We really need to get you a man, Linds,” Tony joked.

  “Please and thank you,” she grinned.

  “Well, I don’t think it was worth fifteen bucks.” Molly shook her head, disapprovingly. She wrinkled her nose at her empty wallet.

  Her boyfriend, Drew, wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll get the next one.”

  “Zo, you sure you don’t want me to walk you to your car?” Ben asked for the tenth time. Movie nights were a regular thing for our group and usually Josh and I drove together. It was the first movie night he’d missed in months. That’s what happened when you put off writing a paper until two days before it was due.

  “Are you kidding, dude? No one would screw with Zoë. She’s a savage.” Tony winked at me as he elbowed Ben in the ribcage.

  “I’m a big girl, guys. I can handle myself. I’ll be fine,” I insisted. It was cute when they tried to protect me, but I didn’t need it. With the disaster of a family I had, I had to be able to handle myself.

  “Good, because I don’t want to give the history presentation by myself tomorrow. I hate public speaking.” Lindsay shuddered.

  “And I don’t? Besides, you won’t have to give it alone. Thomas will be there,” I said, flashing Thomas an evil grin.

  Lindsay’s eyes lit up as she glued herself to Thomas’s side. “On second thought, stay home, Zo. I love Thomas!”

  “I know,” he said nonchalantly, patting her on the shoulder.

  I rolled my eyes. “Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, girl.” I wrapped my arms around her before she disappeared into the night with Thomas, Drew and Molly.

  “Yeah,” Jeff nodded with a yawn, “I better head out, too. I’ve got to get Cara home before our parents call out the cavalry.”

  Cara peeked around her older brother’s shoulder. “Seriously. I prefer not being grounded for all of eternity. Freaking curfew. I can’t wait until I’m eighteen,” she groaned and rolled her eyes as she headed toward Jeff’s old Jeep. She was growing up way too fast.

  “And you’re sure you don’t want Tony or me to walk you to your car? We can,” Ben said. He was relentless. “It’s not like it’s that far.”

  “Don’t worry so much, Benny-poo,” Tony shook his head and shoved Ben away from me. “See you tomorrow, Zo!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Bye boys,” I called as I turned toward the parking garage. It was late, almost early. The movie ran longer than I’d expected. My car would probably be one of the few remaining vehicles in the garage.

  I followed the stairs down to the bottom level, snuggling into my sweater; my breath was visible in the moist evening air. Each smack of my heels echoed against concrete walls. It was an eerie sound. I shivered as I stepped off the last stair, trying to remember where I’d parked my car. It was around the corner, I was almost sure of it.

  The sound of heavy footsteps traveled down the stairway behind me but I didn’t pay it much attention. I wasn’t the only person leaving the movie theater. A chill raced down my spine as the footsteps grew closer, closing the gap between us. Without being too obvious, I pulled the keys out of my purse. I just needed to get into the car and lock the doors. Just a little further and I’d be home free.

  I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the man following me. He was maybe ten feet back, something shiny gripped in his gloved hand. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe not. Suddenly, I wished I’d let Ben walk me to my car.

  My phone. No one attacks someone when they’re on their phone, right? It’s like having a witness right there. I yanked it from my pocket and hit speed dial.

  “Hello?” a male voice answered. “Zoë?”

  And then it happened. A flash of movement.

  I ran as fast as my legs could move me. My car was in the distance, just a few more yards. I threw my purse to the ground, praying the man would settle for whatever money was in it. The cell phone slipped out of my hands as I fumbled with the car keys, trying to find the unlock button. For a split second, as I reached for the door handle, I saw hope.

  As my fingertips grazed the cold steel, rough hands collided with my shoulder blades, hurling my body into the car door. My left arm crashed through the window; I felt the bones in my forearm snap as they made contact with the steering wheel. I fell back, an imprint of my mangled body remaining on the side of my car. I howled in pain, gasping for air as my blood stained the pavement.

  The man let loose a sadistic laugh. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked me up off the ground, slamming the side of my head into the rear view mirror. I yelped, fighting back the temptation to slip into unconsciousness.

  Surrendering was not an option.

  “You’re a pretty one,” he mumbled as he pulled my face to his. He ran his tongue along my bloody jaw line and smirked. “Very pretty indeed.”

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I whimpered, tears streaming down my cheeks. It was like pleading with the Devil.

  He spun me around and pressed his body against the back of mine, breathing into my hair. I felt something sharp against the small of my back. It twisted, piercing through my clothing and digging a shallow hole in my skin. His large hand stroked my body, running over my chest and around my neck before covering my mouth, preventing my screams from attracting unwanted attention.

  “You are mine,” he hissed, squeezing my face so tight that I thought my jaw might snap.

  He turned me so that I faced him, pressing his cold, hard lips against my neck. I could feel him trembling against me, his heavy breaths on my skin. He quickly shoved my body against the side of the car, glass from the broken window slicing through me like tissue paper. He groaned as his free hand ran wild over my body, groping and grabbing as he pleased.

  I pushed with all my might, scratching and kicking at him frantically, but my attempts didn’t seem to faze him. He wrapped his legs around mine, pinning them down. He ripped my sweater off with one clean swipe and feasted his eyes on my bare skin, releasing a moan. His attention quickly turned to my jeans, fumbling desperately with the top button.

  My attacker tore me away from the car and threw me to the ground, my right cheekbone scrapping against rough asphalt. I could hear him wrestling with his belt. It was my last chance. With my good arm, I tried to drag myself away. I gained two inches before the knife came down on me. I screamed, grabbing my shoulder.

  “Tisk, tisk, tisk. That was a very bad idea.” A steel-toed boot plowed into my ribcage, rolling me onto my back. I gasped for air, coughing up my own blood. He dropped down on top of me, tugging at my jeans until they reached my ankles. The man licked his lips and ran a gloved hand up my inner thigh, running a finger along th
e elastic band of my underwear before tearing them away.

  He sprawled out, hovering over me for a moment. The heat from his body burned through me. It was the first time I’d really seen his face. Those eyes, as dark as night – I’d never forget them.

  “Pl-please,” I sobbed, knowing my cries would go unheard.

  With one quick movement, he took what was rightfully mine, stealing what I’d kept safe for so many years. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, not like that. For a moment, I thought that I could actually feel my heart shattering within my chest. I begged God, I pleaded for Him to let me die, to take the pain away. But, He didn’t come. He didn’t save me. My body began to shut down. I dropped my head to the side and closed my eyes, willing myself to die.

  “No!” the man raged.

  I howled in pain, my hands firmly gripping the sharp knife embedded in my flesh.

  “You will look at me!” he snarled, baring his teeth. “I want to see those pretty eyes of yours.” He ripped the knife from my stomach and went about his business. I was of only one use to him; I had only one thing he wanted – hungered for. After he took it he would dispose of me like the garbage I was. I counted the seconds until he’d be done, until my life would finally end. Only one person was going to walk out of that parking garage and I had no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t going to be me.

  A flash of light caught my eye. The bloodstained knife sat a few inches away, calling to me. I strained my arm, feeling blood seep through open wounds. The man was too preoccupied with my body to notice anything else. My hand trembled, grasping the object that would inevitably be the death of me. I wondered if I could be as vicious as my attacker, if I could drop to that level of evil.

  He moaned with pleasure, tasting the fruits of his labor.

  The knife plunged into his back three times before he managed to pull away from me. He roared and lunged toward me, punching me in the face. I reached up, slicing at his gut relentlessly. Blood splattered across my face as I stabbed at his body over and over again until he collapsed to the ground beside me, convulsing in a pool of blood, his dark, hollow eyes forever staring at me. I listened to the sound of his heart until it stopped beating. Only then did I feel safe.

  The knife clattered against the ground as it slipped from my hand. My body felt cold and oddly lifeless. Was I still alive? I’d convinced myself that only one person would walk out of the parking garage. I was wrong. No one would.

  Death was different than I imagined it’d be. No life flashing before my eyes, no warm memories or bright lights. There was only darkness. I closed my eyes as my vision faded, too weak to cry out. It was over. I needed it to be over.

  Like a dream, I heard voices in the distance. Something or someone moved beside me and a warm hand wrapped around my throat.

  “Bring the stretcher, she’s still breathing!”

  Chapter Five

  I awoke in a dark room, oxygen forcing its way down my nasal passage. I gripped the plastic tubes and yanked them away from my face. Sitting up, I ran my fingers through my hair, matted with dried blood. Even with the restraints strapped to my ankles, I knew exactly where I was. The sterile smell, the irritating beeps, the white walls and curtains. I was in a hospital room.

  I hadn’t set foot in a hospital since the attack my senior year. Cuts and bruises from head to toe, eighty-three stitches, five broken ribs, two skull fractures, a broken arm, cracked cheekbone and a two stab wounds. I’d suffered enough physical injuries to last me a lifetime. But, it wasn’t what he’d done to me, but rather what he’d taken from me that hurt the most. On more than one occasion, I’d wondered why they couldn’t have just let me die that night. It would’ve been so much easier that way. Then William never would have found me and I never would’ve become one of the “Chosen.” I wouldn’t be the monster I was today.

  I could still recall the look on Josh’s face when he arrived in the ICU; it would haunt me forever. Eighteen or not, he was only a kid then, but I knew he blamed himself for not being there. When everyone left at night and he thought I was asleep, Josh would sit at my bedside and cry. He never asked me what that monster had done to me. He never needed to. He knew. He heard the whole thing unfold, from the moment I dialed his number to the cop finding my cell phone under the car. It was Josh that called 911. I had him to blame for my survival. Of course, I’d never tell him that. How do you tell your best friend that you would have been better off dead?

  During my stay in the hospital, my mother and her family visited a few times. I was a burden to them – the “accident” nothing more than an inconvenience. One night I actually overheard my mother’s husband say that girls like me were “just asking for it.” Not long after that I explained to the nurses that those people were not my family and shouldn’t be allowed back into my room. I still remember the last time I ever saw my mother, as she was being dragged away kicking and screaming by hospital security.

  Josh and Tony had visited me often. They had become the only family I had. Neither of them mentioned the fact that I’d slaughtered a man and, for that, I was grateful. Tony was the only person to beat himself up more than Josh. To make matters worse, Josh wouldn’t even look at him. In his mind, Tony had failed. He should have taken better care of me, should have protected me when Josh couldn’t. Things were never quite the same between the two men.

  A week after what I’d come to call the “accident,” William walked into room 214 and turned my world upside down. He took me from the hospital, leaving nothing more than a note that read, “I’m sorry,” and stuck me in an abandoned building for my transformation. Healing for the first time, with that many injuries, was like reliving the attack all over again, only slower. Much slower. Three days and a lot of screaming later, William shipped me off to California, where I’d spend the first year of my new life in complete isolation.

  And there I was, back in a hospital bed.

  In the hall, two pairs of feet faltered outside of my door. I sat up, listening to unfamiliar voices.

  “There’s no reason for us to keep her here,” a raspy voice whispered. “We have plenty of other patients to take care of after the quake. She isn’t even injured.”

  “That’s exactly the point,” argued a deep male voice. “She was practically dead at the scene. The motorcycle all but crushed her. Look at her now!

  “Keep your voice down,” the first man hissed. “And, we’re only assuming that’s what happened. The blood could’ve been anybody’s – the truck driver’s, perhaps. There wasn’t a scratch on her when paramedics got to her. How can you be so sure? You don’t want a repeat of last time. He’ll kill you if you’re wrong.”

  “I’m positive. She’s one of them. There’s no other explanation. She bears the mark of the Chosen.”

  “Her tattoos? ” the raspy voiced man sounded slightly skeptical.

  “Keep her here, do you understand? I don’t care what you have to do, just keep her here. Don’t let her set foot outside of this hospital or it’ll be your head.”

  “For your sake, I hope you’re right. He won’t be pleased to hear that the man got away.”

  “He can’t hide forever,” the deep voice snarled. “We’ll find him.”

  Fluorescent lights flickered on and a short, elderly man wearing a long white lab coat walked into the room, my chart tucked under his right arm. “Ah, Miss Marks, I see that you’re finally awake.”

  Good for him. He’d figured out how to open a purse and read a driver’s license. Too bad it wasn’t my real last name. William made sure to change it when I moved. It wasn’t to protect me, but to protect those who knew me. Well, the old me.

  “Do you feel any pain or dizziness?” he asked, pulling out his glasses and setting them on the bridge of his nose before scanning through my chart. “You might experience some grogginess from the medication we gave you. We weren’t sure you’d wake up. You’ve been out since last night. My name is Doctor Maxwell.” He smiled down at me, extending his hand.

&nb
sp; I ignored it. “What happened? Where’s the man I was with? And why the hell am I cuffed to the bed?” I demanded.

  “It’s for your safety,” the good doctor said through clenched teeth as he retracted his hand. He placed my chart on the counter and released a weighted breath, rolling over a leather stool to sit at my bedside. “You were in a very bad accident during the earthquake, Miss Marks. Do you remember? As for your friend, I’m afraid he didn’t make it through surgery. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

  Oh, he was good. I almost believed him.

  “Have to say that often?”

  “It’s part of the job,” he replied stiffly.

  Doctor Maxwell rose from the stool and reclaimed my chart, flipping absently through its pages. “Anyway, you should feel lucky. It’s nothing short of a miracle that you survived such a crash without any injuries. Very lucky indeed,” he added, furrowing his brow. “We’ll need to keep you overnight for observation.”

  “I thought I was already here overnight,” I countered.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Well,” he mumbled, “we need to observe you now that you’re conscious. We have to make sure that there was no brain damage or concussion acquired during the accident. Something like that, left untreated, could be fatal, Miss Marks. I’m sorry, my hands are tied by technicalities. I’m sure you understand,” the old man said, flashing an uneasy smile. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  I wondered where he’d learned to talk out of his ass, medical school or the General. It didn’t matter what he said or did, there was no way they’d be able to contain me. I’d like to have seen them try. I’d already spotted at least ten items in the room that would serve as excellent weapons. It was amazing what you could do with dirty needles and tongue compressors.