The Whittier Trilogy

by Michael W. Layne

  The old man did not answer Trent’s latest question, but he tightened his grip around Christina’s neck. Trent took his reaction as an indicator that he was homing in on something the old man wanted to keep secret.

  “You don’t need to tell me,” he said, trusting his deductive intuition. “I already know. It’s because you’re the one they’re really after. That’s why you cage everyone up each month. It’s not to protect the tourists or to keep the residents of the town safe. It’s to keep yourself safe from the animal spirits and from the people of Whittier. You said your father used to keep the peace. Did he also help the military kill all those animals? Teach them how to trap and then kill the bears, wolves, and the moose? And did you help the military too, when you were just a boy trying to prove his worth to his father?”

  The old man clamped down even harder on Christina’s neck. She choked, a slight gurgle emitting from her throat.

  “Leave this place now, or she dies,” the old man said.

  Trent knew he had pushed almost too far, so he opened the door the rest of the way and entered the stairwell. He walked up three of the seven steps until he came to the hole in the side of the cinderblock wall he had seen earlier.

  He used his right arm to pull himself up and into the hole, resigning himself to the pain he was going to experience with his broken arm. It took him close to an entire minute, precious time that he did not have, before he was in position to start crawling and shimmying along the struts that comprised the framework of the basement ceiling.

  He crawled toward where the Elder and Christina had last been standing, estimating the distance of ten of his steps. The ceiling tiles beneath him, although beyond rotted, were still solid enough that he couldn’t see through them. He was about to take a literal leap of faith when he heard the old man call out to him, telling him that he only had a few seconds in which to open the outside door and to accept his fate.

  Trent adjusted his position based on the location from which the old man’s voice appeared to be coming. Without hesitating a second longer, he rolled over onto the flimsy ceiling tiles and fell straight through, crashing almost directly on top of his targets.

  The element of surprise was enough to cause the old man to instinctively release Christina as the three of them collapsed into the chilly standing water. Even though Trent was not able to take further advantage of the situation, because the pain in his broken arm was almost unbearable, both Christina and the old man were back on their feet within seconds. Trent painfully tried to push himself up on one knee, struggling to not pass out as he did his best to cope with the jolts of torment shooting up his arm.

  Before Trent could get his feet under him, the old man turned away from Christina and tackled him instead. Rather than fighting the impact, Trent fell backwards, using momentum and his greater body mass to flip the old man over in mid-air. When the two landed, Trent was on top of him as the old man’s mouth and nose hit the cement floor with a hard smack. The old man’s face was submerged in the standing water as he struggled to push himself up, but Trent applied all the pressure he could to the back of the old man’s head. The man’s struggles grew weaker, but Trent did not feel the same primal haze of red that had consumed him earlier in The Towers. This time, his human mind was more in charge, and it told him that the old man would be dead if he didn’t let him up soon to breathe.

  The Elder’s body finally went limp, sagging like so much aged, unmoving flesh, and Trent stood up and flipped the old man over onto his back.

  The instant the old man’s back hit the floor, instead of coughing and sputtering as Trent had expected, he opened his eyes and almost grinned as he shot his leg up, landing a solid foot strike directly into Trent’s groin.

  The pain was shocking and more than Trent’s mind understood how to handle as he fell away, cradling his genitals and moaning. Through squinted eyes, he saw Christina pounce on the Elder from behind, wrapping all four of her limbs around him and savagely snapping her teeth at his neck.

  Before she could land a solid bite, the old man dropped to his knees and flipped himself forward, landing square on top of Christina, and knocking the breath out of her as water splashed five feet in the air around them.

  Christina grimaced from the pain as the old man rolled off of her and stood up again, laughing darkly as he prepared his next strike. Behind him, Trent forced himself to stand despite the screaming pain in his groin and his arm. He picked up the hard wooden back of one of the decaying theater chairs with his right hand and rushed the old man, swinging the piece of wood like it was a sword at the old man’s head.

  The slab of wood caught the old man on the side of his head before he had a chance to duck completely, but during the follow-through of his swing, the old man grabbed Trent by his broken arm and spun him around, sending him falling over the nearest row of chairs and into the far wall of the theater. Even before his body hit the wall, Trent cursed himself for not drowning the Elder when he had just recently had the chance.

  He doubted he would get such an opportunity again.

  Trent sat, legs splayed, on the theater floor. He watched as Christina and the old man fought, attacking each other like wild animals. Against all he knew of the world, both Christina and the old man were something more than human—both taking tremendous punishment from the other amidst a cacophony of growls from Christina and exclamations from the old man in some ancient tongue that Trent did not recognize.

  Watching Christina’s fluid form, Trent knew that he would be no match for the old man and that earlier, he had just gotten lucky. Trent did, however, have one thing that the old man didn’t.

  He had his mind.

  Trent stood on shaky legs and scanned the room in less than two seconds, searching for any clues that might help him. He saw the holes in the walls of the theater and knew that they were probably lined with asbestos. But the deadly material could take years to do its damage, and he needed a more immediate solution. The bear upstairs could easily destroy the old man, but Trent couldn’t think of a way to get the Elder to go upstairs. Trent turned toward the stage, looking for anything else that would spark a plan in his mind. Suddenly, he heard Christina scream from behind him. He turned around to see that she was face down on the ground with the old man hovering over her.

  When he pivoted to look at Christina, Trent’s foot hit something heavy and metallic, and he instantly knew what it was—the heavy metal flashlight he had lost earlier that day. He reached down, grabbed the flashlight and threw it with all of his might. The metal cylinder flew through ten feet of air and struck the old man in the back of his head.

  The old man fell forward, collapsing on the floor, and Trent moved as quickly as he could to check on Christina. In the time it took him to get to her, Christina had somehow gotten to her feet again, but something was wrong.

  She was holding her mid section, trying unsuccessfully to take a full breath again and again, while the old man behind her struggled to stand up.

  She glanced up at Trent and moved her hand enough for him to see blood oozing from her abdomen, even as the old man rose to his full height. In his right hand, he gripped Christina’s Louisville Slugger. The old man raised the bat over his head, ready to bring it down full force onto the back of her head, and Trent knew he could do nothing to stop him.

  Even as the old man started his swing, a roar filled the room as a dark shape tackled the old man, pushing him across the room. For half a second, Trent thought the grizzly had somehow made its way into the basement, but then he recognized the attacker was Alice.

  Whatever medication Alice had taken to minimize her animal transformation must have disappeared completely from her system as she pounced on the fallen man. Animal noises from her throat filled the air as she clawed and bit at the Elder, while he shouted strange phrases in his native tongue and fought back with straining muscles and gritted teeth.

  Trent raced over to Christina and put his arm around her waist, supporting her as he led her away
from the fray.

  “We can’t leave her down here with him,” Christina said.

  “That thing over there is not Alice right now. My main concern is what happens when they’re done fighting. Think about it. You and I are screwed no matter who wins. I’m telling you that she’s the one who was trying to kill us back at The Towers. Plus, if she made it through the tunnel, I’m worried about what else is right behind her.”

  Christina and Trent both turned to look at where they had entered the theater, half expecting a rush of crazed residents to come charging toward them. They steeled themselves for an attack, but it did not come.

  As Trent allowed himself a deep breath, he looked over and saw that somehow the old man had rallied. He had lost the bat, but was cutting Alice with something sharp—probably the same thing he had used to wound Christina. The tide of the battle was turning, but regardless of the victor, Trent knew that he didn’t want to be in the basement when their fight was over.

  With his arm still around Christina’s waist, he started to lead her toward the stairwell. She resisted again as she watched Alice slowly start to weaken. She started forward to help Alice, but Trent held her tightly.

  “You’re already injured, Christina. If we go back over there, either one of them could easily kill us at this point. We have to get out of here while we still can, and I think I have a plan that might end with both of us still alive. But you’ve got to trust me.”

  Christina looked up at Trent, tears in her eyes as she struggled with leaving Alice behind. As she suddenly doubled over in pain, she relented to his insistence and followed him to the stairwell.

  He opened the door and pushed Christina into the stairwell. Before joining her, he looked back and saw the old man strike what looked like a killing blow as Alice’s body fell limp to the floor. Rather than gloat or even take a rest, the old man, covered in blood and holding a large piece of broken glass in his hand, looked up at Trent and grinned.

  From upstairs, the roar of a grizzly bear filled the stairwell.

  “Trent? I don’t think this is a very smart idea,” Christina said from the stairwell.

  “We can’t stay down here,” he said. “Move it!”

  “We can’t just leave her down there with him, Trent.”

  Trent pushed her up the stairs and stopped at the top step. It was too dark to see her eyes in the stairwell, but he looked into the darkness of her face.

  “I know this is hard, but it’s too late for her. She may have been acting like an animal tonight, but she also probably just saved our lives. We have to worry about you now, and you need some help fast, Christina. I’ve only got one trick left, and I really hope it works. Just follow me and promise me you’ll do what I say.”

  Christina and Trent stood motionless at the top of the stairs, his hand poised on the doorknob. Christina finally nodded, and he kissed her softly on her cheek.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  Trent opened the door, and the two of them stepped out onto the first floor of the barracks. Because all of the windows had long ago been either shattered or removed, it was almost as cold in the building as being completely outdoors. Even though he was still naked and exposed to the elements, the crisp, near-freezing night air of Whittier was the best thing he had smelled all day.

  Through one of the broken-out windows, he saw a large grizzly bear pawing the ground about twenty feet away from the building, illuminated by the moonlight. Without pause, he pulled Christina along with him as he made his way to the window.

  “What are we doing?” she said.

  “I’m going to distract the bear. As soon as you see him go after me, head the other way as fast as you can. Get to the hotel. They’ll be able to help you there.”

  “That’s not a plan,” she said. “That’s suicide. You don’t even really know me, and I’m the one who got you into this whole mess in the first place. Besides, I don’t think I can make it on my own. I’m feeling too light headed, and I’m going to need your help.”

  Trent looked at the blood soaking through her fleece jacket. Now that he could see better, he could tell that although her wound wasn’t gushing the red liquid, she had probably lost enough of it that she was feeling pretty weak.

  “So we stick together then. Sometimes you just gotta say fuck it, right?” he said.

  With that, first Christina and then Trent slipped out of the window and into the Whittier night. The full moon above them was so bright that it was almost as startling as stepping out into a sunny day. Twenty feet in front of them, the large grizzly bear stopped pawing the ground and turned to glare at them.

  The massive animal let out a giant puff of air from its nostrils and reared up on its hind legs, clearly showing Trent and Christina who was in command. Trent braced himself for the bear’s onslaught, but the animal went back down on all fours and remained motionless for a few seconds. It tilted its head clockwise then counter clockwise slowly, observing them. Suddenly the bear looked past them to something in the barracks. It sniffed the night, then blew out another large burst of cold, white air.

  Trent debated on whether they could make it back into the stairwell before the grizzly got to them, but he knew that the old man would be there waiting. Behind them, he heard the sound of the stairwell door opening.

  The grizzly turned its stare toward the sound of the door and then charged directly at Trent and Christina. Trent lowered his gaze so that he wasn’t staring directly into the bear’s eyes. He gently pushed Christina behind him, placing himself between her and the animal as the massive grizzly charged the twenty feet between them quicker than Trent could believe.

  When the grizzly was within five feet of them, Trent smelled a distinct odor he had never before encountered. Strong. Musky. Real. Intoxicating.

  He realized he was holding his breath as the bear was upon them. Even as he braced for his last moment of life, the bear passed by them, turning instead to the window through which they had just crawled. With hardly a pause, the great animal tore through the empty sill with his giant claws, and climbed through the window and into the barracks with surprising agility.

  After the bear was all the way inside the barracks, Trent dared to look closer. The old man was nowhere in sight, and the stairwell door was closed again. The mighty grizzly walked up to the stairwell door and threw its weight against it again and again. Within seconds, the door caved inward, and the bear moved down the stairs, again with astonishing speed.

  Trent put Christina’s arm around his neck and led her away from the barracks, toward the Inn. They had gone no more than thirteen feet when the night erupted in terrible roars, horrific screams, and what Trent imagined to be curses in the old man’s native tongue, all emanating from the basement of the ancient barracks.

  A few seconds later, the night was once again quiet as Trent hurried the two of them away from the building as quickly as possible.

  Chapter 13

  IT TOOK TRENT and Christina just under fifteen minutes to make it to the Inn, arriving just an hour before dawn. He had already missed the first morning tunnel out of Whittier, but at this point he was just happy to have survived the night. Even though the sun wasn’t up yet, he felt safe at last, confident that the residents were still safely locked up in The Towers.

  As they walked up to the front door of the hotel, he surveyed the town. On a normal day, he suspected that the residents would have already been out and about starting their days. But on this morning, Whittier was silent.

  He stopped before entering the hotel and looked back across town at the barracks. He listened closely and watched for any movement at all. He half expected a horde of naked Whittier residents to come racing across the town for one last attack on his life.

  But he saw nothing.

  The hotel’s night manager was more than a little surprised when the naked Trent and the bloodied Christina stumbled through the front door. Trent shielded his eyes from the harsh fluorescents of the hotel lobby as they stepped up to the
front desk almost casually, as if inquiring about a room.

  At first, the manager didn’t know what to make of his surprise visitors, but he soon recognized Christina and called the emergency number, which forwarded to the Sheriff’s department, which of course was located in The Towers.

  No one answered the call.

  Fortunately, there was a doctor registered at the hotel, and the manager raced upstairs and returned in just under ten minutes with a groggy, older gentleman with disheveled white hair. The doc asked for a fresh cup of coffee as he took a preliminary look at Christina and Trent. Seeing Christina’s blood-soaked jacket, the doctor set up a makeshift operating room in the kitchen and examined her wound. After carefully cleaning it, and putting in a few stitches, he determined that the gash she had received from the bear attack was not as deep as first feared.

  The doctor and the night manager both commented on how lucky Trent and Christina were to have escaped a grizzly attack. Even though this was a slight misinterpretation of the events as they had actually occurred, Trent agreed with complete and utter conviction that he and Christina were indeed very fortunate.

  The doctor examined Trent next, easily confirming, even without the use of X-rays, that he had broken his arm. The doctor fit him with a better makeshift sling and ordered him to get to the hospital in Anchorage as soon as possible. Trent nodded in agreement as he continued to shiver despite being wrapped in a hotel bathrobe with his feet now in a pan full of warm water.

  As his body began to relax, pain blossomed everywhere, but surprisingly what hurt the most was where Christina had scratched and bitten him during their first bout of sex. He didn’t think it was worth having the doctor check it out at the Inn, but he made a note to himself to have the doctor back in Anchorage look at it when he went in about his broken arm.