by Cheree Alsop
The creature’s mouth opened. Anticipation showed in its orange eyes. Two more steps and it would reach him. Everett had no weapon other than his strength. He forced his energy into the pit of his stomach. It roiled like fire with the need to protect his family. The creature reached out with huge claws, intent on disemboweling him. Everett dove forward and grabbed the paw.
He rolled to the left and drove his shoulder toward the ground. The force pulled the animal onto its side on top of him. It struggled to get free, but the way its paw was pinned beneath it made it difficult. Everett couldn’t pull in a breath with the creature’s weight on top of him. He felt his hold slipping.
“Bite it, Everett.”
The sound of his father’s voice pierced through Everett’s panic. He tried to understand what his dad was talking about.
“Everett, bite the animal, now!” Mr. Masterson shouted.
Everett could barely think past the darkness pressing in at the edges of his mind. His lungs screamed for air. His heart gave a strong beat, using up precious blood. His strength was rapidly failing. He had one chance.
Everett ducked his head and sunk his teeth into the creature’s massive forearm.
The second his fangs pierced the animal’s skin, its entire body stiffened. The creature gave a shriek of pain that made Everett’s ears ring. It rolled to the side, freeing Everett. He gasped for air and watched as the creature shook out of control; its limbs gave massive, seizure-like jerks. It stiffened completely and something seemed to run under its skin like a wave, flowing through its entire body. The animal’s eyes rolled back. It let out a gurgling sigh, then stopped moving completely.
“Everett!” his mother yelled.
The sound of her running footsteps made Everett lift his head. He realized he was lying on their neighbor’s lawn. His body shook as he tried to rise. His mother and father caught his arms before he could fall.
“Everett, are you okay?” Mrs. Masterson asked in a terrified voice.
“I-I think so,” he told her.
He glanced at his dad. Mr. Masterson was watching the dark creature.
“Look,” his dad whispered.
Everett shifted his gaze. There was something strange happening to the animal’s skin. It looked like it was falling apart, becoming tiny particles like sand. A small breeze tugged at Everett’s sleeve on its way past. When it reached the creature, the animal’s body disintegrated into a pile of dust far smaller than the creature had been.
Mrs. Masterson let out a little squeak of fear.
“It’s alright, honey,” her husband reassured her. “It’s dead.”
“H-how can you be sure?” she asked.
He turned both of them away without answering. “Let’s get inside,” he said quietly.
A few faces showed at the windows of the houses they passed, but no one in the Pentagrin dared to leave the safety of their homes after curfew. Alex had found that those in the Neighborhoods were even more suspicious of night activity. The chance of seeing a monster and confirming that they were real was more terrifying than leaving the streets to the unknown. The curtains shut, blocking out the night with the strength of an iron wall.
The Bowers watched their progress from the porch. Torrance hurried down the steps when they drew near.
“Rett, that was amazing!” he said. “I’ve never seen anything so brave.”
Everett shook his head. It hadn’t felt brave. It was the only decision he could have made. He had to keep the creature from getting to his family. Just the thought of it going after his parents or siblings was enough to send his heart pounding angrily within his chest. He became aware of the fact that his stomach hurt. He had used up too much blood fighting the creature. His organs were becoming compromised.
“I need blood,” he said quietly.
His dad opened the door to help him inside.
Everett shook his head. “I think I’ll wait out here.”
He felt as though they were exposed, vulnerable. The thought that there might be more dark creatures in the tunnels kept pressing against his mind. He had to make sure they were safe.
“Alright,” Mr. Masterson replied, his voice low. He helped his son sit on the porch swing. “Wait here. I’ll be back with your drink.”
“Shouldn’t he come in?” Everett’s mother asked, her voice tight with worry.
“Let him rest,” her husband said. His voice was firm on the matter; it was a tone he seldom used with his wife. “He’s where he needs to be. Let’s go inside.”
The Bowers followed Mr. Masterson in without question, and at his unwavering expression, his wife finally followed.
When everyone was gone, Everett let out a breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. He rested his head in his hands, burying the sight of the street from view. The small mound of ash on the neighbor’s lawn was all that remained of the life-or-death struggle. It felt so insignificant compared to what had happened. Exhaustion flooded through him. He could barely remain upright.
Everett didn’t look up at the sound of the screen door opening.
“Son, I’ve got your drink,” his father said.
The swing moved when he sat down beside Everett. The scent of blood made his mouth water. Everett’s entire body leaned toward it, needing the blood more than air at that moment. He used what was left of his strength to sit up. The impartial voice in the back of his mind noted that his father had put a pink straw in his usual cup. Celeste had never given him a straw. Perhaps seeing a vampire sucking blood through a straw felt a bit too ironic to her?
“Are you smiling?” Mr. Masterson asked in a level voice.
Everett accepted the cup with shaking hands. “I think humor is my mind’s way of keeping me from insanity,” he admitted quietly. As much as he hated how badly his body wanted the blood, and as gross as he had told little Patricia it was to drink it, he couldn’t deny how good the first sip tasted. He felt it flow through his body like heat, like water, like electricity. He drank deeply and the sensation of the blood washing through his system was better than any blanket or warm summer night. It was hope; it was his life.
“I wouldn’t blame you. That was insane,” Mr. Masterson said. “You did a good job.”
Silence settled over them as if his father knew how much Everett needed just to be at that moment. He had been nearly crushed to death beneath a creature from a place worse than his nightmares, it came from reality. Coming to terms with it wasn’t easy.
Everett drank the last few drops. He studied the way the remaining blood that coated the inside of the purple cup turned it nearly black. It took a lot more self-control than usual to keep from wiping his finger along the inside and licking it clean.
He finally broke the silence. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” his father asked, looking at him.
“How did you know my bite would kill it?” Everett asked in a voice just above a whisper. He wanted the answer and feared it at the same time.
Mr. Masterson let out a slow breath. He glanced back at the house as if afraid of being overheard. He finally admitted, “I read your vampire book.”
Everett stared at him. “You read it?”
His father nodded. “All of it. I learned a lot.”
Everett remembered what he had read about the virus carried in a vampires’ mouth being the cause of zombie creation.
“So it was a hypothesis?” he asked, amazed at how much his father had put on the line.
“It was the only thing I could think of,” Mr. Masterson answered.
Everett took the time to really look at his father. His shoulders were hunched and he kept looked down the street as if the small pile on the next lawn bothered him as much as Everett. His blue eyes were tired and there were lines beside his eyes and around his mouth Everett hadn’t seen before. He looked as though he had aged ten years from the time Everett left to walk the Bowers to the house until that moment.
Everett felt the need to protect his father from what h
ad happened. He pushed back the torrential thoughts he needed to come to terms with and forced a smile.
“At least you had an idea. I was coming up blank,” he said lightly.
Mr. Masterson looked at him. An answering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, chasing away the age lines. “It was a shot in the dark, but one that worked.” He nodded toward the cup. “Feel better?”
Everett nodded. “Much better.”
“How’s the shoulder?” his father asked.
Everett checked the wound through his torn shirt. “It’s already healing.”
“Good.” Mr. Masterson looked at the house. “Your mother is attempting to feed everyone. The kids are a bit high-strung, as you can understand. I think we’ll have the Bowers spend the night here in the spare bedroom so we don’t have to worry about them getting home safely.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Everett said with relief. The thought of heading back through the streets made him nervous. He didn’t like that feeling. The streets at night were his safety, his escape. He couldn’t live in fear; he had to go to the Monster Asylum, especially now. The thought that Dr. Transton might know something about the dark creatures kept nagging at his mind.
“I think I need to sleep,” he told his dad.
Mr. Masterson nodded. “I know it’ll help you heal more quickly. I’ll help you to bed, then come back and keep an eye out, just in case.”
“Do you think the Bowers will mind?” Everett asked, worried about ditching them after all that had happened.
“They’re happy to be safe. Everyone will understand that you need to sleep.” Mr. Masterson put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Everett, you saved all of our lives.” He shook his head as if searching for words. “I really don’t know what to say. I felt so helpless seeing my son trapped beneath that animal. It was like all the worst things I could possibly imagine happening at the same time. My family in danger, my son hurt.” His voice broke and he looked at the house behind them. “What would we have done if you weren’t so strong?”
“You would’ve come up with something,” Everett answered, his tone firm.
Mr. Masterson’s lips pursed into a slight frown. “I’m not so sure.” He gave his son a smile. “Thanks to you, we didn’t have to find out.” He stood up and held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
Chapter Nineteen
Everett was grateful his father warded off his mother’s insistence to check on him before he went to sleep. He lay for several minutes listening to the small talk above. After the initial fear had worn away, it sounded like everyone eventually warmed up to each other. He even heard Patricia laugh at something Finch said.
He took off his shirt and checked the claw marks. Thanks to the high quality of blood, the wound had almost healed completely. He rolled his shoulder and was glad to see that the range of motion hadn’t been affected. He tossed the tattered shirt in his laundry basket knowing that his mother would probably turn it into rags instead of attempting to fix the rips. It was a hand-me-down from Donavan anyway and his older brother was hard on his clothing; Everett doubted it would have made it to Finch and Gabe.
Slipping into a blue tee-shirt with a sailor’s star on the front, Everett climbed up the stairs as silently as he could. A peak outside showed his father sitting on the porch swing. A pang of sorrow went through Everett. His dad’s home had been threatened along with the safety of his family.
A slight, familiar skritch-skritch sounded. Everett couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his dad whittle. Mr. Masterson kept a small supply of aspen branches behind the greenhouse from when they had trimmed one of their trees a few years back. He used to carve things like owls and wolves. Lately, he had gotten too busy to take time for his hobby. Everett wondered if his dad was trying to calm himself or if the knife was reassuring in the face of the darkness that clogged the streets.
By the lessening sounds of utensils on his mother’s favorite glass plates, dinner was drawing to a close. Everett wouldn’t have much time. He slipped through the hallway and ducked out the back door. Taking the long way around so his father wouldn’t see him, Everett reached the tunnels.
He hesitated at the mouth. Sounds hinted from inside. Everett wondered if his mind was just replaying memories from earlier, or if he truly heard metal on glass. Either way, the thought of stepping into the darkness proved too much.
Everett ran through the streets. Taking the long way around buildings and walled neighborhoods took far longer than the tunnels, and he got disoriented twice and had to use the lay of the skyscrapers to reorient himself. He finally reached Adrielle’s apartment and cut through to the alley.
“Vampires are the enemy,” he said.
“Yes, but vampires’ mothers make amazing banana bread,” Xander answered from the other side. The ogren chuckled as he pulled open the door.
“Thank you,” Everett told him. “Mom said she might make pumpkin cookies soon. I’ll snag you a batch.”
Xander’s mouth split into a wide smile.
Everett hurried down the hallway. The thought of talking to Dr. Transton about the creature and hopefully finding out more information about it made him hurry even faster. If there were more of them, perhaps he could find a way to protect the city. From what he had seen, the creatures would be able to deal a lot of damage quickly. If there were more of them, the Pentagrin could be in trouble.
Everett pushed the button for the sixth floor. To his surprise, the button for floor thirty-one lit up instead. Everett pushed the sixth floor’s button again, sure it was a mistake. The elevator continued to go up. The floors lit as they passed by. Floor twenty-three, twenty-four, and then twenty-five. Everett’s heart began to race. He remembered the whirlwind of hatred he had encountered the last time he was on the thirty-first floor. He hadn’t had a chance to read the poltergeist book. He didn’t know what to do.
The button lit and the elevator stopped. Everett hung back when the doors slid open to reveal the empty, dark room. He knew better than to assume nothing was inside.
The elevator beeped as if telling him to exit.
“No way,” Everett said aloud. “I’m staying right here.” He reached across the small box and pushed the button for floor six. Nothing happened.
“Go away,” the voice he remembered said.
“I’m trying,” Everett replied. He pushed the door close button. It had never worked for him before; apparently it wasn’t about to change old habits.
The elevator beeped again.
“I’m not going in there,” Everett muttered.
He wondered if he imagined that when the beeping repeated, it sounded more insistent. When he refused to move, the doors behind him slid open. He spun with the reminder that there were two sides to each floor.
The room he faced was dark. Glowing red eyes appeared. His heartbeat sped up. He squinted, but couldn’t make out anything else. If he judged whatever monster was there by the size of the eyes, it was bigger than the dark creature he had fought. The eyes drew closer. A soft hissing sound reached his ears along with a blast of hot air. Everett stumbled backwards.
The monster got closer, but Everett couldn’t make out anything of its body in the darkness. Not knowing made it even more terrifying. The hiss sounded again, louder this time and with undeniable vehemence. He pictured teeth below the glowing red eyes and a horrifying body to match the stench that came from its breath. It rushed toward him.
Everett fell backwards, stumbling into the other room. The further elevator door shut, blocking the red eyed monster from escaping. A beep sounded, then the other doors slid shut.
“No!” Everett protested. He scrambled to his knees and tried to put a hand inside to stop the doors, but they closed with a resounding thud he didn’t remember hearing before.
“Leave me alone,” the voice in the room said.
“I’m sorry,” Everett replied. “I didn’t mean to come here. The elevator stopped and I—”
“Go away and leave me alone!” the voice screamed.
A sound pierced the room with such force Everett ducked his head to the floor and clutched his hands over his ears. It rose in volume, swirling and stabbing, a noise so horrifying it made the metal on glass sound from the dark creature feel like a baby’s laugh. It took every horrific sound and combined it into one, nails down a chalkboard, tinfoil and teeth, glass shattering, porcelain smashing into pieces, a girl screaming, metal twisting, and the dark creature’s claws on asphalt.
Everett’s muscles were so tense they shook. He held his ears, but it didn’t help. The sound penetrated everything, grinding against his senses, blocking out all thinking or ability to act.
One small thought worked its way free. After the dark creature’s attack, running through the streets, placing himself between it and his family, battling for his life, and then being nearly eaten by the creature on the other side of the elevator doors, Everett felt completely frayed like a cord unraveling.
He balled up all of his anger and the hopelessness he felt at being scared and shouted, “I’m so tired of being afraid!”
The sound slowed, then stopped entirely. The silence that followed pressed against him with almost the same force as the noise as if it had to be felt to erase all he had heard.
Everett sat up slowly. When nothing happened, he turned so that his back was against the elevator doors. He reached up a hand and hit the button. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t light up.
“There’s something wrong with that elevator,” he said quietly. The sound of his voice felt too loud in the silence. He took a calming breath and let it out slowly. “I suddenly feel like everything in this world is out to kill me.”
Silence followed, then, “What else is trying to kill you?”