by Cyle James
Riley grabbed the axe from his wife’s hands and started off towards the entrance.
Violet reached out and grabbed her husband by the arm, “Stop! It’s going to kill you!”
He briefly looked back and then again to Sourmouth who was trying to maneuver itself through the small hole and over the couch.
Riley started off towards it again and was pulled back once more.
“We can go up to the second floor. Plan something there. Maybe find a way out of the window or something,” she tried to reason with him, desperate to stop him from trying to fight a battle he couldn’t win.
“I can barely walk as it is, I won’t make the fall to the ground without shattering what I have left if I jumped out the window,” he replied, constantly turning back to check on the creature’s progress, “I wouldn’t be able to crawl away, let alone run”.
Sourmouth had backed out and resorted to clawing at the top half of the door, ripping pieces of wood off in splintered chunks, splashing streaks of its blood on the door and walls.
“Then let’s go to the attic. We can hide up there. That fucking thing can’t fit through the tiny hole”.
Riley watched as Sourmouth tore the door apart piece by piece, figuring it would be through in seconds. It was now or never to attack, to get it while it was distracted and at a disadvantage. But if he failed his wife would be left alone and defenceless. That wasn’t an option. Riley reached out and grabbed his wife by the hand, heading towards the stairs as partners.
Another crash of thunder echoed from above which elicited another thunderous roar from the beast in reaction.
The Tylers weren’t two steps up the stairs when they heard a heavy crash, the sound of Sourmouth squeezing its way through the broken door and falling to the ground over the blockade.
“Go!” Riley said as he turned around, walking up the stairs backwards in a defensive position with the axe held high above his head.
Violet sprinted up the steps, slipping slightly on the semi-wet mud that caked the bottom of her shoes.
Sourmouth regained its footing and crept into the living room, staring across it to Riley. It lowered its head in a readying position as it tore forward, its feet crushing the wooden floor underneath it.
Riley was prepared for its lunge, responding with a downward strike of his own, finding contact with Sourmouth’s torso. The axe head lodged deep in the wolf’s left collarbone, eliciting a piercing screech of pain from the creature that no animal should have ever been able to make.
Sourmouth reached out with its injured right arm and clawed at Riley’s chest, ripping through his jacket and slicing deep through the skin on his chest.
Riley cried out as he fell backwards on the stairs, pulling the axe out of the animal’s body as he went down.
Sourmouth stepped backwards, clutching its paws to the gaping wound on its body.
Riley didn’t know much about the physiology of wolves or even humans for that matter, but he could recognize that he had done immense damage to the creature that could possibly prove fatal. The wound spread open at least four inches wide horizontally, even more vertically. It had blood pouring out like a faucet onto the floor and itself, painting the creature’s fur ruby red. At the top and bottom of the injury, the skin continued to tear open as the beast thrashed about. The muscles in Sourmouth’s face had retracted as far back as they could, exposing the entirety of its pinkish brown gums and its razor-like teeth in a show of unbridled aggression.
Looking into Sourmouth’s eyes told Riley that if he had any notions that he might get out of the house alive, now was the time to rethink them. Not being one to give in to the concept of being torn to shreds, Riley began his ascension upstairs, scrambling his feet on the steps below. Every time that the animal reached its deathly claws out Riley responded to it with a kick to the face, each blow sending waves of pain up his leg.
“Riley!” Violet called from above.
He tilted his head upwards towards the top of the steps where his wife stood, her legs bent from the weight, her face red with exertion as she heaved the old rocking chair at the end of the hallway up to her chest.
Riley placed his hands over his head and rested his face against the steps to get as flat as possible as his wife hurled the chair over the rail-less edge.
Sourmouth let out a guttural grunt as the chair fell full force onto its back, knocking all of the air out of its lungs and forcing it to collapse to the ground in a heap of hair and wood.
Violet started off down the stairs, grabbing her husband by the wrist and helping him up to the second floor.
The Tylers were rushing towards Poyam’s old room when Riley had an idea. He turned back and ran to the master bedroom, taking off his jacket and tossing it underneath the bed before slamming the door behind him. One final touch was rubbing his blood covered hands over the face of the door. He hoped that the smell of his blood on everything would convince the beast that they were hiding in the master bedroom instead of in the inconvenient attic.
He returned to Poyam’s room and Violet quietly closed the door behind him. Riley contemplated lifting up the cot and wedging it against the door, but he reasoned that he physically wouldn’t be able to lift himself into the attic without it to stand on. And even if he was able to, the flimsy cot offered little in terms of resistance to the massive creature that would soon be at the door.
“You first,” he said to his wife, placing his hands in a folded position in front of him in the same way he first did when they broke into the house their first day on Bowen Island.
Violet placed a muddied foot in the palms of his hands and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead before stepping upwards. After a few awkward movements and some pushing from her husband she finally got up to the attic safely. Reaching down she took the axe from her husband so he could have his hands free to climb.
Riley mounted the cot and reached up into the attic, grabbing hold of the ledge to pull himself up. In his weakened state, it was a lot more difficult than the previous times he had done it, so he needed assistance from his wife not to fall back down.
The attic was pitch-black; too hard to see even an inch in front of them. Riley cursed not having brought a candle to light their way and contemplated jumping back down to get one. But the fact was that even if they had a candle, it would do little to benefit their predicament aside from making it a bit more comfortable. Regardless as to whether they had the light to see it, they were trapped without an exit. Their only hope was that Sourmouth would lose their tracks and they could survive until morning and the break of the storm.
Sourmouth snarled as it stalked around the floor beneath, searching for the naughty playthings that had eluded its grasp.
The Tylers could barely hear its thudding footsteps echoing through the house against the rain that assaulted the roof above them with its relentless pitter-patter. They tried to trace the beast’s location with their eyes, from where it would be in one room to another. But it was a fruitless idea attempted in fear. As the only course of action they could take, the couple hunkered down in a corner against the roof wall, kneeling with the axe rested in front of them. It wasn’t more than two minutes before they could hear the wolf approaching, breaking through the door below with savage purpose. Within thirty seconds the door would be nothing but kindling. After that it would surely find the breach in the ceiling.
Although the Tylers couldn’t see it, they knew when they had been found. They knew that the creature could smell their abundant sweat from below. Certainly it could hear their hearts drumming against their chests.
“We need to get out of here,” Violet whispered to her husband, her hand clenched tightly onto his.
He blinked in the darkness as if it might suddenly illuminate the way. He knew what she was thinking. But he also knew that they could never make it past the animal if they jumped back down, whether they used the axe or not. And even if they did somehow get past it, where would they go? The car wou
ldn’t run in the mud and they couldn’t outrun the creature on foot.
“We can’t go downstairs, we won’t make it,” he responded tiredly, squeezing his hand against hers.
She couldn’t see it, but Violet could sense that her husband had his head lowered in defeat. She knew by the sound of his voice that he didn’t have much fight left in him.
Like something out of a monster movie, they watched as a hand slowly rose from the light below, its claws extended and retracting as it explored the space in front of it, searching for something to grab. Its claws found home in the wood planks, digging in and creating grooves to hold onto. With seemingly deliberate caution the creature pulled itself as high as it could, its head poking through the hole so that it could stare directly at them. Its broad shoulders were the only thing that stopped it from clambering through to get to the Tylers, a small but blessed gift.
Riley gulped deep what was left of the saliva in his mouth as he readied himself to attack, hoping that he could get the drop on the animal and take off its head.
“What if it grabs you?” Violet asked, almost sensing what her husband was planning.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t answer her because he didn’t have one. This was the only plan that he had.
Sourmouth’s eyes seemed to shine menacingly in the gloom, taunting, as the couple contemplated how they wanted to try and survive as if it knew that it was hopeless.
Riley clutched the handle of the axe tightly, to the point that he was afraid that it might snap. He wanted to attack. He at least wanted to die trying to take the brute out with him.
Sensing his anger, Sourmouth seemed to leisurely retreat, its head retracting backwards and out of sight. It wasn’t five seconds later that its arm reached out in a flash, coming down with tenacity on the wood planks around the entrance. The crash fractured the wood around the hole to the attic, leaving it dented and damaged. The wolf reached out again with a growl and stroke downward, cracking off a piece of an already impaired plank. It was clear that Sourmouth was trying to tear an even bigger hole to climb through.
Riley prepared to press forward, ready to throw all he had left at the creature to prevent it from scaling up.
“...I don’t want to die here...” Violet cried out from beside her husband, tears flowing down her face, invisible against the black.
She knew that it wasn’t fair to her husband, to try to make him stay with her, to want to live when he had just given up. But she couldn’t think of anything else to say when she hadn’t given up herself.
“...I don’t want to die alone...” she sobbed.
Riley bowed forward, finding his arms resting against his wife’s chest, his hands clasped around Violet’s face as he put his against hers.
“I don’t know what to do,” he choked out. He didn’t know how to make her unafraid. And he couldn’t stand that thought of her being terrified in her last moments.
“...Try...” she said.
It took a few breaths. A few long breaths before Riley could even begin to think. They needed a way out that wasn’t down through the house. And the only alternative was up.
Sourmouth clawed into the wood, each swipe ripping more and more pieces into the room below. Each turn making the gap bigger and bigger. Each chunk that fell extracting a colossal bark from the wolf’s snapping teeth as its anticipation grew.
Riley stood up and stared at the ceiling, trying to analyze his approach without being able to see. He didn’t know how long it would take to get it done, but he knew that no matter what, he needed to get through before Sourmouth did. He swung overhead, the axe scraping the roof and finishing its arc towards his feet. Without even seeing it, he could tell that he didn’t do enough damage to matter. With another swing and another clip that barely made contact with the roof. Riley just couldn’t manage to hit it at an angle that would break through.
Sourmouth was pulling down pieces of wood with both hands, its feverish intensity driving it forward like a wrecking ball, destroying everything in front of it.
“Riley, come swing over here. Just above the wall. The roof slants upwards, it’ll be easier to hit,” Violet yelled out, her voice carrying as she moved out of the way.
He walked forward with his axe extended in front of him like a measuring stick, hitting the wall when he was within distance. Riley took another swing, this time cracking into the roof. The second swing broke through and stuck into the timber.
“Riley!” Violet screamed as Sourmouth began to rise up from the room below, its head reared back as both arms madly clawed in front in search of leverage to pull itself up.
Without a moment of hesitation, Riley pulled the axe free and swung again. And then he swung again. And again until he felt the rain falling through the hole onto his bare arms. Knowing how close he was gave Riley the extra strength that he needed to keep going. Each swing he took stronger than the last, as he tore through the wood at a pace that matched Sourmouth’s from below.
It might have been delirium, but Violet couldn’t stop herself from laughing out at the sight of the moon in the stormy sky. It was easily the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen in her life. They were almost there. Another few pieces and it would be big enough for them to climb through.
Then Sourmouth rumbled out loud enough to shake the air.
The Tylers both turned their attention to the gigantic wolf, that stood crouched before them. It had gotten up.
“You need to go,” Riley said simply to his wife as his arms fell to his sides.
Violet rushed over to her husband, a hand on his and one hand on the rim of their escape route. She looked back and forth to the hole and realized that it wasn’t yet wide enough for him to fit through it.
“...Riley...” she cried out, shaking her head at the thought of leaving him behind.
He didn’t wait around to discuss the subject. Riley charged forward with a growl of his own.
The lack of space inhibited Sourmouth’s movements, its awkward body catching onto the support beams overhead as it clumsily tried to defend itself. But its attempts were too late, as Riley’s axe landed on its chest plate, digging inches deep just above its right lung. With the axe still in its torso Sourmouth angrily struck outwards; catching Riley with another blow to the ribs that sent him flying backwards just in front of his wife’s feet. The axe was left behind, still hanging loosely in the animal’s thick hide.
Violet scrambled to the ground, wrapping her arms around her husband and pulling him into a sitting position between her legs, her head resting against his. She refused to leave him behind. As afraid as she was, she never wanted to abandon him.
Riley struggled to breathe, his chest aching from the repeated damage. He reached out around him looking for his weapon before realizing that it was still lodged in the wolf.
Sourmouth reached upwards, awkwardly swatting at the axe until he was able to knock it to the ground, followed by spurts of glistening blood that sprayed from the wound. It stood unwaveringly, watching the Tylers huddled on the floor below the hole in the roof. The only sound that filled the attic was the relentless tapping of the rain and the rhythmic breathing of Sourmouth.
Violet clutched her husband as tightly from behind as her arms could muster. Her tears warm against the back of his neck, a stark contrast to the freezing rain that fell on them from above.
Riley leaned back in her arms and gazed at his wife. It might have been the blood loss that he was suffering from, but he could have sworn that Violet was radiating from the moonlight behind her.
Violet smiled down at him with her big watery eyes, rubbing her soft hand over his forehead.
“You haven’t looked at me like that for a long time...” she said.
He chuckled, “...I’m a bit of an idiot”.
“Yeah, I got that,” she laughed as she hugged him against her knowing that it would be the last time that they ever embraced.
Sourmouth exhaled sharply as it took a step forward, its mouth pulled
back to bare its horrifying rows of teeth, wet with saliva. Its eyes burned through the darkness like stars as it stood above the couple with its face wrought with ire.
Riley didn’t bother even looking in Sourmouth’s direction as he stared at his wife.
And Violet returned the favour.
It was in that moment when the Tylers fell in love with each other again. It was no longer the comfort of being together for so long that they were feeling or a sense that they needed to be together out of obligation so that they might one day work things out. For the first time in years, they were truly in love with one another and couldn’t imagine being anywhere but in each other’s arms.
“I love you...” Violet wept out in a cracking whimper as she leaned down and pressed her face against her husband’s. Violet’s hand shook over his face and her body trembled uncontrollably from fear.
Riley could feel his own tears running down his face unabashedly, their presence unmistakable and burning hot against his cheeks as he leaned in to kiss his wife one last time, “...I love you...”
As the storm tore through the sky above and the rain barraged the old house, the loudest noise to live in the dead of the night wasn’t from the thunder, but from the gloomy attic where pleased and monstrous roars danced from the gaping maw of Sourmouth.
THE END