Dark Reality 7-Book Boxed Set

by Jennifer and Christopher Martucci

  ***

  The faceless man had been following Melissa since she left her unkind neighbor’s house earlier. She and her friends had not seen him but he had traveled alongside them invisibly the entire evening. He had worried that she might need him and remained with her without her knowledge like a shadow, ever-present but not considered. He moved through the darkness, as he had since leaving Terzini’s underground laboratory, cloaked by the velvety blackness of nighttime skirting side streets and exerting himself to keep pace with Melissa and her friends once they commandeered a shiny red car. It had been difficult for him to keep up with them once they were no longer on foot but he pushed himself hard, tested the limits of his strength and endurance.

  He had followed her, not for his own selfish reasons, but to protect her if she needed protection. He knew that protection was inherent in the social contract of friendship. Threatening forces conspired against her and her friends. He had been certain he would be needed. Police had chased them. The large, frightening creature that he had rescued from the ambulance for Terzini had pursued them as well. He had vivid memories of the monster. He saw now that it had angry eyes and a cruel smile.

  He watched from the wooded area beyond the street in shock as Gabriel and a small, Asian man attempted to fight the beast, to overcome it. They could not defeat it as he’d hoped. The monster was too powerful. And very mean.

  He listened intently for ugly words to befall the monsters pressed lips. It did not speak much, but when it did, its words resonated through the faceless man. It said it was going to kill Melissa, his friend. He edged closer to the street, his fist balled at his sides tightly and his breath came in short, shallow pants. He watched the monster stalk toward Melissa and yank her by her slender arm. He felt his fingernails break the skin of his palms as he clenched tighter and tighter, tensing the formidable muscles of his forearms and biceps. Then to his horror, he saw the monster raise its massive hand and strike her; he knew in that instant that it intended to make good on his threat. He knew the monster was going to kill her.

  A strange sensation surged through the faceless man, an inexplicable phenomenon akin to a bolt of lightning flashing through his core. Horror, anger and fear merged and sliced through him like a high-voltage current. He opened his mouth and produced a sound heretofore unheard in nature; a sound as strange and dangerous as the reaction his body was producing.

  From a dark recess of his crux, he emitted a primitive warning to the beast that dared harm his friend. He would not allow for her to be killed, and notified his adversary of impending conflict. The same energy that flared within him set him into motion. He ran as fast as his legs would allow and burst through the brush exploding against the behemoth brute. His arms wrapped around it, locked it immediately in an unrelenting grip. He buried his face against it. As soon as he felt his face connect with the monster’s flesh he opened his mouth and bit down, hard into his neck.

  The monster swatted at him, wriggled and flailed. Its blows were more powerful than he could have ever imagined; each one felt as if a sledgehammer had drilled against his body. It attempted to rake his eyes, scratching and clawing with animalistic ferocity. But he did not let go, knew he must not let go. He did not release his arms from their powerful encirclement and did not relax his jaw. Pain radiated from every part of his body, but the faceless man refused to relinquish his grip. His jaw clamped down squarely on the beast’s throat, he felt a warm gush of metallic-tasting fluid drain from it profusely.

  Though the monster bled, he still managed to pound at him, battering and injuring him. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Melissa, wounded and frail, and bit down harder. He felt the beast’s windpipe crush beneath the compression of his jaw and immediately felt the monster’s assaults weaken. Still, he did not retreat; he did not renounce his rigor. He twisted his clinched teeth and felt the tension that once existed in monster slacken. Still, he did not let go. Blood flowed from its torn neck and dripped from his own mouth.

  In the time it took to empty life from the monster, the faceless man had not noticed the arrival of several police cars. He did not see the uniformed men climb from their vehicles and train their pistols on him. They shouted at him from every direction, a hideous cacophony of warnings and expletives. He did not understand what all of the urgency was about; the monster was dead, his friend was safe. He had done something noble, yet the uniformed men with their guns aimed at him did not seem to agree.

  He released the lifeless beast, watched as it fell to the ground. He reached a hand to his chin, felt the blood and matter beneath his fingertips and realized he must look frightening to them. He took a step toward the officers, trying desperately to gesture his intentions and the circumstances of the monster’s death but the armed men did not seem to care. Instead, they seemed to mistake him for the monster when, in fact, he had saved his friend from one.

  “Take another step, and we’ll shoot!” one shouted.

  “Stay where you are, asshole!” another yelled.

  They did not understand his gestures, that he did not mean them any harm. He put his arms up with his hands facing them, palms turned outward to signal his cooperation. He stepped forward and heard a thunderous sound ring out followed by searing pain in his shoulder. A bullet had penetrated his flesh, lodged somewhere in his upper arm.

  “No! Leave him alone!” a female voice cried out.

  He looked up to see Melissa screaming, urging the armed men to stop firing at him. Her face was distraught, worry creased her face; she was concerned for him. He staggered toward her, moved a fraction of a footstep in her direction and felt a stinging blast against his thigh and then another in his unwounded arm.

  “Leave him alone!” Melissa shrieked. “He didn’t do anything! Stop shooting! Please!”

  Tears poured from her eyes, tears for him. Melissa showed the truest mark of compassion; she wept for her friend. He was her friend.

  He felt the next bullet tear into his chest, felt an unimaginable explosion of pain emanate from it. He struggled to stay on his feet as he clutched his chest, and realized that someone cared about him; someone loved him. He was Melissa’s friend. It was the first time in his short existence that he was truly happy.

  The faceless man outstretched his arms desperately trying to reach his friend and embrace her. His legs gave out from beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground. From his prone position he gazed up at her a final time before the world grew dark.