Damage

by Shea, Stephen

  Tyler and Wayne were exchanging blows. Tyler moved in with a punch and Wayne dodged and stepped back. He flicked the knife and caught Tyler in the chest, tearing his shirt and his flesh. Rivulets of blood flew out onto the dirt. The ground shifted suddenly beneath all of them and Rand was pitched forward.

  Rand looked up and saw that Tyler was the first to regain his feet. He shifted in quickly, kicked high, and caught the side of Wayne's head just as he started to get up. Wayne crumpled to the ground and lay still. Tyler kicked him twice more.

  Rand, with Tanya in his arms, stepped off the mound. At once the ground lurched and the moaning of the oak became a roar. Then the ground rolled beneath them all and began to sink down. A sound like the grinding of rocks came from under them as the earth sought to relieve itself of a burden. The trees bent inward and the little shack fell to pieces.

  Something was down there, Rand felt it as he stepped this way and that, awkwardly making his way to the others. He knew it was large. The ground shuddered again. Cracks formed in the ground and steam hissed as the land in front of them began to rise upwards and split apart.

  Tyler took Tanya from Rand and all of them ran into the trees.

  18.

  Wayne stirred and opened his eyes. He was staring at the moon. It shined between the branches and made the night even darker. It looked red.

  He sat up.

  The clearing was empty, quiet. So far. As he was waking he had the impression that he was lying on the keel of a ship in a tempestuous ocean, but now everything was still.

  Cracks suddenly began to form in the earth, shooting outwards. And Wayne felt pressure building in the ground as much as in his flesh, his mind, his spirit.

  The ground opened up, gave birth. Earth swirled downwards, a hole opened, and the last stone tumbled to the side. Two hands gripped the sides of the mound and pulled upwards. First came Swallower's oblong head, red lights dancing around it like lightning. His eyes, human but twisted, the color of blood. Shoulders appeared, massive and misshapen, and finally came Swallower's body, pale and naked, a huge gross imitation of humanity. Covered in afterbirth like slime. Coming out of the ground, stepping onto the earth.

  His face was twisted permanently into a snarl of rage, eyes squinting their hatred. The body was obviously once a man's, but its soft old flesh had been twisted, warped and strengthened by anger. Rage, in time, had made muscles stretch from frame to frame, made bones grow and extend out of the flesh like thick white steel. Skin tight against his chest, everything inside pushing outward. Scars lined the stomach muscles, thin white lines.

  Swallower stood, muscles flexing, steam rising from his body. There were sphincters in his shoulders and both cheeks, opening and closing, puss dripping from each. The sick sweet smell of a warm slaughterhouse filled Wayne's nostrils.

  The god had come and Wayne had never seen such majesty. He was beautiful and huge, his hair green like seaweed about his shoulders. Wayne began to cry with joy.

  Swallower turned towards him, his thick white neck gyrating slowly, dreadlocks shifting across his shoulders. His barrel chest went in and out, thick lips opened and he hissed something that sounded like "Son."

  Wayne walked up to him, looked up into those burning eyes. And in that face he saw all, he saw nothing less than everything.

  "You are so perfect," Swallower whispered down to Wayne and within the beauty of those eyes Wayne saw all the forgiveness, all the compassion he had ever sought. Swallower reached out huge hands like a priest about to do a blessing and set them on Wayne's head. They glowed like rainbows.

  Wayne felt the hands squeeze and felt his skull wobble and creak like the oak hull of a ship pushed by a gale against a rock. And that moment it felt beautiful, knowing that he was going to die and who was going to kill him. The moment of his own death so much better than all the little deaths he had made. The hands squeezed, his skull creaked a little more.

  Suddenly, Swallower stopped squeezing and Wayne felt fear, scared. The moment was so close. "Go on," he whispered.

  "No," Swallower said between permanently twisted lips. "No. You are not mine, the world made you. You are theirs. Go. Kinniwaw is mine."

  Nodding, crying, suddenly thick with tears and understanding, Wayne stepped back. Swallower nodded to him, stepped past, and sped into the trees. Wayne stood still for a moment then walked slowly the other way into the forest like a child searching for his parents.

  19.

  Tyler stopped running suddenly. "What are you doing?" Rand asked, halting beside him.

  "Hurry!" Kari, a few steps ahead, gestured at them. Bumpa stood next to her.

  "Go on," Tyler said. He handed Tanya to Rand. Rand took her limp body in his hands, surprised at her lightness. She was blinking, her eyes rolling in their sockets. She reached for Tyler and he took her hand.

  "No," she whispered. "Not good. No."

  Tyler, his face emotionless, leaned in and kissed her then let go of her hand.

  "Go on," he said again.

  "What are you doing?" Bumpa asked.

  "Just get the hell out of here!" Tyler yelled, his face angry. "I'll hold him."

  Rand looked over his shoulder, back the way they had come. There was silence, but he knew it was a false silence. "It'll kill you, Tyler."

  Tyler nodded. There was a noise now in the distance, a noise like a bull crashing through the forest. "Just go," he commanded.

  Rand turned and ran into the forest, Bumpa and Kari following. Tyler looked around, found a clearing. He faced north, adjusted himself, made sure the blade was tightly taped to his stump. Whatever was coming was going to have to get through him. His eyes narrowed to slits, his breathing slowed and his focus opened up. He was comfortable, loose, ready. He didn't notice it but the bracelet on his wrist began to glow with a vague blue light. Tyler sank into his stance and into the place in his mind where there was no thought, only reaction.

  He waited.

  20.

  Rand caught sight of the car and ran wildly towards it. He opened the door and set Tanya gently in the back seat. She moaned and her eyelids flickered for a moment, showing only whiteness beneath. Rand whispered softly to her. The car's interior light was dim but Rand could see that she had stopped bleeding. Rand backed out of the car. The sweat on his stomach and back was cooling. He started to shiver.

  Bumpa and Kari were still standing outside the open door of the car, looking back to where they had just run from.

  "Are you O.K?" Rand asked Bumpa.

  "Fine," Bumpa said. "The hilt of the knife hit me. Scared me more than anything."

  Bumpa got in the back seat and leaned over to attend to Tanya. Kari sat in the front.

  Rand sat in his seat but from there he didn't know what to do. A part of his mind was telling him it was useless for them to wait. Tyler had made a choice and maybe by waiting they were making his sacrifice futile.

  Oh, God. What do I do?

  He couldn't leave: how could he leave his best friend? Suddenly, without forethought, he pressed the horn. It echoed around them and he thought, what if whatever's out there hears the horn? He froze and didn't press it again. He stared at the darkness around the car, waiting.

  21.

  In Tyler's mind the fight with Swallower was beautiful. It was better than Western Karate Finals where he had been in top form. His performance there was a klutzy dance compared to his form tonight. He was at the top of his art. It was a ballet of death. Perfection. His legs, arms, everything, in utter unison.

  Swallower was larger than Tyler by about two feet and he was huge with weird muscle patterns and quick reflexes that looked deceptively slow. His responses to Tyler's attacks were always strange and confusing, movements that appeared to have no purpose, no goal. Then suddenly Tyler would be on the ground, caught by an unsuspected blow.

  But he always got back up, quickly, and he was beginning to understand Swallower's style.

  Tyler shifted in and stuck him twice with the knife hand, dodge
d a blow by Swallower, and shifted out. Swallower began to scream as fluorescent green liquid and light poured out of the wound. Both floated in the air around them, as if gravity meant nothing to the stuff inside Swallower.

  Tyler grinned, charged with his success. He had never felt as alive as he did at this moment, so perfect and happy and clear. Every muscle in his body was his to command, not vagrant rogues that had to be reeled in, but his. Body and mind had become one, spirit and soul, everything united.

  He thought vaguely that he heard a car horn sound, but that was from another world. There was only one world now, one universe: him and the thing in front of him, spinning around each other like celestial bodies in the cosmos.

  Tyler spun, kicked. Swallower, still screaming, ducked, lashed out. Tyler dodged the blow, brought his knee up against Swallower's barrel-like chest, then quickly shifted out of range.

  Tyler's bracelet was glowing bright now, a foggy blue light enveloped his hand. Tyler saw it, but paid it no heed. It was a part of him.

  And he was winning, of course, winning, for how could he lose? His form was so perfect. All those years of training focussed on one point. One event. And the thing in front of him was screaming in pain.

  Then he realized that Swallower wasn't screaming. It was something quite different.

  He was laughing.

  22.

  Rand sat in his Mustang, staring out the window. He was thick with fear, the kind of fear that makes you slow and ineffective in a dream. The world had become small, as small as the steel and glass that surrounded him and the others. The car was running, its engine idling. His foot hovered above the gas, his ankle was sore from holding it at the same angle for so long.

  "Tyler!" Tanya moaned suddenly, "No, Tyler!" She shot up out of her seat and grabbed Rand's shoulder. And as if that one touch had passed the information directly to his brain, he knew with certainty that Tyler was dead. Felt it as sure as his heart was beating. He sat there stunned, listening to Tanya's sobbing.

  "Tyler's dead," Rand said slowly. The others nodded in silence.

  Then Rand caught sight of movement in the trees and instinctively he stepped down on the gas. The car lurched forward. Rand slammed on the brakes, cranking the car left. They were at a dead end. Why didn't I turn around when I had the time? He thought as he turned on the wheel and headed left. The road was too narrow and he could only make a half circle. He stopped, jammed the gearshift towards reverse, but hit park instead and the car roared but didn't move. He pulled the shifter into reverse, pressed the gas and flew backwards, the brake lights lighting the trees weirdly red. Just as he lifted his foot from the gas to hit the brakes, the car struck something—there was a grating sound as the rear of the car flew into the air. Everyone shook and Tanya was tossed to the floor.

  Rand felt a moment of shock, of disbelief, then out of the corner of his right eye he saw a shape streaking through the night like a violet comet. The passenger window exploded inwards, glass showered the car and a huge powerful palm struck Kari. The force of the blow tossed her from her seat and onto Rand's lap.

  Rand had the impression of powerful arms in the window, of a jeering face. A mouth gaped and his ears filled with a horrible screaming like a metal saw cutting metal, a scream pitched so high Rand felt as if his bowels would burst. Two hands grabbed at the window frame, yanked at the door. Metal wrenched, sparked.

  Rand stomped on the gas and the car lurched backwards, straight over the tree stump they were resting against.

  They had only moved about a yard. Swallower was still in the window, wrenching. Rand slammed the car into first and stepped on the gas. The left wheel kicked up dirt, but the right hissed in the air.

  Metal snapped, the lock broke and Swallower pulled the door from its hinges, tossing it away. He reached in, his huge hands open wide, and grabbed Kari's leg. Kari kicked at him, screaming.

  In the back seat Bumpa pushed the barrel of the shotgun towards Swallower. The barrel hit the side of the car just a moment before Bumpa pulled the trigger. The gun went off, the shot went wide, striking Swallower's left shoulder, tearing through the thick flesh there. Swallower was knocked a half step back, he let go of Kari's leg and grabbed his shoulder, roaring.

  Rand threw open his door, grabbed Kari and yanked her towards the driver's side, pulling her over the gearshift, his seat and out onto the gravel. When he looked up, he saw Bumpa coming out the same side, pushing Tanya ahead of him. Swallower charged back into the car, trying to force his massive shoulders through the opening.

  Rand helped Kari to her feet and they ran across the shoulder of the road, trying desperately to see where he was going. Pain exploded up his leg where his shin struck something solid, branches slapped at his face. He slipped, his hand wrenched out of Kari's, then he rolled down a ravine. He came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the hill. He stood, dizzy, disoriented, the crazed biological rhythms of his body filling his ears with noise.

  He breathed in deeply, trying to stop his body from making such huge noises. Rand felt complete panic, he wanted to run as fast as he could, out of there. He couldn't hear the others, he couldn't hear anything over the noise of his body. Either they hadn't rolled down into the same place as him or they had missed the ravine and caught themselves before they went down.

  Or that thing had them!

  "Kari," Rand whispered, "Bumpa." He took a step, discovered that his leg was fine to walk on. He felt completely vulnerable, not wanting to make a noise. He walked carefully down the ravine. His hearing slowly came back to him and his vision began to make sense of the darkness. He heart still pounded in his chest, filling him. He walked quietly, crouched over, looking.

  He took a few more steps and heard a noise, someone walking. He listened and heard his own name being whispered. He walked towards the noise. The trees had become thicker now and the ravine was steep on either side.

  "I'm here," he whispered and saw a dim shape that had to be Bumpa.

  Bumpa turned and looked at him. His face, even in the dark, looked old and haggered. "Where are the others?" Rand asked.

  "Down a bit further, I think," Bumpa said and they walked slowly ahead. A few steps later they found Kari and Tanya. They all stood together then, listening, but heard no sound of pursuit. Kari was holding Tanya to her side.

  "He's not gone," Tanya whispered.

  "Let's go this way," Rand pointed, "maybe we can make it to the lake or a cabin and find something there."

  They started walking slowly down the ravine, trying to be as silent as possible, but the ground betrayed them. Leaves crackled, twigs snapped. Every sound seemed huge, amplified. Surely he can hear us, Rand thought.

  He had only taken a few more steps when he heard something behind them that wasn't a noise they had made. It was a moan. Eerie and clear. Rand looked back over his shoulder, saw only the shapes of trees and bushes. The moon barely lent any light to the scene. Rand heard another sound behind them, the creaking of a tree or log as if something heavy had just leaned against it.

  But it wasn't just what he heard, it was what he felt in his mind, the feeling of someone staring at his back, the burning emotion seeming to drive like a nail into the back of his head.

  "We better get off this path," he said and they turned left into a hollow.

  They walked for a time in silence and the feeling of eyes on his back faded. He heard no more strange sounds, only the sound of their own traveling.

  Then a cry—half wolf, half human—cut through the night. And Rand knew it in his blood as a cry of victory, of I see you! A second of silence followed, where they stopped and drew their breath as one, then came the sound of branches snapping behind them and they ran into the trees.

  "Hide here!" Bumpa pointed and they all turned, came to a sudden stop, and crawled into the place where he had pointed. It was the hollow where a tree had fallen over. They squeezed together against the upturned trunk. The roots of the tree spread out into the air like snakes on a medusa's head.


  It was silent again and Rand hoped that somehow they had confused Swallower, that he had turned the other way or swept on down the path past them.

  He thought this way for a moment then there was a sound—a step—so deceptively soft that it said nothing of the weight above it. Rand could see, through the roots, that there was a little clearing around them. Swallower moved silently into Rand's field of vision, his head swiveling slowly back and forth, his eyes glowing yellow. He walked closer towards them, moving in a semi-circle, and Rand could see the yellow blood oozing out of Swallower's shoulder into the air. Swallower drew up so close that Rand could see the thick veins in his legs, that he could have reached out and grabbed Swallower's bulbous ankle. Swallower paused there for a moment. Rand could see a hint of Swallower's head through the roots. Then Swallower took another step and was gone.

  They sat for what felt like an eternity without stirring. Rand heard nothing, the forest was quiet, empty of movement. They waited an eternity longer. He's got to be gone. Rand leaned hesitantly forward, slowly unwinding his body, so slow as to have little visible movement at all. He peered around the corner of the roots that shielded them, first left then right. He saw nothing, so he crawled a little further, inch by inch.

  Fingers dug like nails into his skull He was above us! Rand had the time to think then he was pulled upwards by the hair and tossed on the ground. Two huge feet slammed down beside him, lights flashed in his eyes as he tried to push himself up. He was pulled to his feet, then thrown again, smashing into the earth and rolling into a tree. His leg was grabbed as if by a vice, he thought he heard someone screaming—himself?—then he was tossed back to where the others lay. He sat up slowly, his head pounding, his vision blurred.