by Ike Hamill
“What are you basing this concern on?”
Madelyn shrugged. “If someone was sick with something contagious, wouldn’t you expect them to stay away from a settled area?”
“I suppose.”
“How is this different? We have an unknown threat looming out there. It came here from somewhere, which means that it can travel. Why would you want to lead it back to your community?”
“We don’t know anything about it. We don’t know how much of a threat it is. We don’t know where it came from or how it travels. You can’t say for sure that it even wants to follow us. Maybe it just migrates randomly.”
“And you can’t say for sure that it won’t trail us down the mountain and then blind everyone it finds. Each person will experience their own personal monster and then they’ll be left for dead,” Madelyn said.
Elijah looked at her.
He shook his head.
“If you want to use this thing as an excuse to turn back into a recluse, go ahead. You can stay up here in your cabin, alone until you die. But don’t try to make me feel guilty for returning that sick girl to her community. You don’t have a shred of evidence to support your wild ideas. I think it’s perfectly clear that you want an excuse to stay.”
Madelyn thought about it. The cabin did have an undeniable magnetism. Now that she was back, it was going to be difficult to leave. In fact it might have been difficult even without the idea that she was going to enable the cloud to follow.
“What are you guys talking about?” Harper asked. While they talked, she had come to the doorway. She stood there with a blanket draped over her shoulders and the mug still warming her hands.
“She thinks that the thing out there will follow us back to Fairbanks,” Elijah said.
Harper nodded and looked between them. “It will. But we still have to go back. It’s going to find them eventually, and they have to know that it’s coming.”
“You can’t know that,” Elijah said.
“No,” Harper said. She stepped forward and seemed to grow several centimeters with her determination. “I do know it. It has been inside me. It knows where we’re from, and it’s already moving that direction. It’s slow, but it will come. We have to warn them.”
“Warn them to do what? You think bonfires are going to trap that thing?” Madelyn asked. “We don’t even know what it is.”
“Somebody will think of something. Everyone has to know so they can figure out how to fight it. We have to go back and tell everyone exactly what we’ve seen. It’s our duty to them.”
“Yes,” Elijah agreed.
“Well, we’re not doing anything tonight. Get some rest and we can talk about it in the morning,” Madelyn said.
# # # # #
By the time she crawled back up into her loft, the cabin was starting to feel like home again. Their presence had chased away the damp, cold air, and the locked door once again felt like a barrier to the things out in the night. Madelyn had lubricated and fastened the mechanical bolt on the door. Back in her grandmother’s day, it had been enough to keep them safe. And, unlike the electronic lock, there was no way to trick or override the heavy bolt from the outside. Someone inside would have to release it.
She pulled her blankets up over her head and waited. Elijah was below her on the couch. Harper was in her grandmother’s room. The sheets probably still held the lingering scent of Jacob. Madelyn hoped that the girl would get a decent rest under those blankets. Maybe a good night’s sleep would bring her clarity and chase away some of the nervous superstition that Harper had picked up.
Madelyn waited for Elijah’s breathing to slow and his gentle snoring. He didn’t have the deep-throated snore of a predator, like David. When Elijah slept, he sounded like he was pausing between breaths to listen for danger. He was never more than a heartbeat away from jumping up to run or fight. The sound of it put Madelyn on edge, but it was still better than sleeping in silence.
That night, it took forever for Elijah to fall asleep. Madelyn rolled over and shed her blankets. She flipped her pillow and pulled the blankets back up. She was starting to doubt that sleep would come.
When it did, it brought dreams of David.
She remembered how it had all gone downhill. She remembered how it had ended.
She wished that she had simply stayed awake. It would have been more restful.
Chapter 22
{David}
Years before.
Dripping and freezing cold, Madelyn had crawled from the stream. The last time she had seen David, he had begged for her help and then limped off towards the cabin. She had no reason to believe that he had made it there. Even though she had hoped to lead the Roamers away, there was every chance that some of them had locked onto his heat and followed him through the woods. They would have caught up with him by now. They would have dismantled his cells and left his hair to the birds.
Madelyn moved slowly and tried to keep herself from shivering. Body heat was the enemy. If she could stay wet and cold, she might have a chance. When she heard the clicks, she stopped until they receded. Madelyn continued again at her slow pace and held her breath as long as she could.
When she saw the cabin in the moonlight, she broke into a run.
The door was locked.
She fumbled it open with numb fingers as the clicking sounds began to intensify. She slipped through the door and closed it quietly, holding it shut until the locks took over and sealed her in. The door to the bathroom was open and the shower was running.
Madelyn walked on numb feet, trailing dirt and leaves in her wake.
A picture formed in her head—with his dying breath, David would have made it to the bathroom and collapsed. His hand would have knocked the water controls, turning on the shower. There was no other good explanation. A man like David didn’t bathe indoors.
She slipped through the steamy air and saw movement behind the frosted glass. When she slid it aside, David was there, naked, letting the hot water cascade over his thick body.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He looked up at her, surprised. From his red eyes she guessed that some of the water streaming down the drain was coming from him. He wiped at clumsy hand across his nose and then reached for her.
She let him pull her into the hot water. He hugged her close to himself and wept into her ear.
“I thought I was dead,” he said. “Then I thought I had sent you to your death. I was sure I would never see you again.”
Madelyn looked down and saw the mud washing off of her clothes and running down the drain. She thought about the composting unit that would use the energy of her Q-bat to pull the solids from the water and send them down to the bacterial pile. From his pruned skin, she guessed that David had been in the shower since he returned. She wondered how much energy that hot water had stolen.
Finally, she looked down at his ankles. Perhaps one was a little swollen, but she saw no breaks or cuts.
She pushed him away.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“I fell. I couldn’t walk. I thought I was going to die.”
“So?”
He knew what she was asking. She could see it in his eyes. He felt the shame. He was sorry. It wasn’t enough. David pulled her close again, squeezing her to his giant body.
“I saw things, Mac. I saw things that made me question everything.”
He wanted to make her a part of himself—to fuse their two bodies together in the hot water.
“I’m soaked,” she said. “Get off.”
He didn’t release her. He held her captive in his embrace for another minute. When he finally let go, she retreated with her head down. Water pooled around her as she shed her clothes. David turned off the shower. Madelyn fled the bathroom, leaving a sloppy wet trail of water behind her. She went to her grandmother’s room and closed the door.
David caught it before it could shut completely. He pushed through and handed her a towel.
Madelyn pulled it to her chest.
He stood there, naked, waiting for her to either accuse or forgive.
Madelyn didn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly.
David closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Good,” he said.
Madelyn realized why he looked so funny—she had never seen him naked indoors before. Outside, she had caught glimpses of him when he jumped in the stream or scratched his back against a tree. His heavy muscles were padded with a layer of insulating fat. His body was strong and healthy. She appreciated his form the same way she would admire a wild horse thundering across a field. Here, naked in the doorway under the artificial lights, he looked too human. He had lost his mystique.
“You saved my life,” he said.
“You endangered mine. Twice,” she said.
He held up two fingers and raised his eyebrows.
“First I had to go looking for you. Then I had to lead them away from you.”
“I never asked you to come looking,” he said.
“Even so, it was your carelessness that made me go out.”
He frowned and shook his head. He leaned against the doorframe. He seemed to like that she was looking at him, as if her stare were complimentary.
“You can’t do that,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“You can’t try to help me when I didn’t ask for help and then get mad at me for it.”
“Who said I was mad at you?” she asked. She clearly was, but she didn’t like being accused of it. Madelyn realized something. Before she let herself consider it, she said it out loud. “You know what? I’m not actually mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I’m angry that I let myself care about someone who isn’t cautious with their own survival. I’ve staked my happiness on having you around, and you don’t seem to care if you make it tomorrow.”
“I care,” he said. He pointed behind himself towards the front door of the cabin. “I was out there struggling to live. I fought. Besides, this isn’t a world where you can depend on people to stay living. If you want a guarantee, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I guess I wanted you to choose staying here and staying alive over the chance to have one more deer steak.”
He expelled a breathy bark and rolled his eyes. His low voice came out like a growl. “You like me because I’m impulsive and wild. You can’t have it both ways.”
“I don’t think I can have it at all,” she said. She looked around her grandmother’s room. She didn’t belong in there. Her space was up in the loft—the garret—where she could view the world below from a safe distance. She felt cornered in her grandmother’s room, with a wild animal blocking the door.
# # # # #
He held his ground. Madelyn wasn’t going to ask him to leave. She wasn’t going to give him the power to deny her request.
Instead, she ignored him.
Madelyn dried herself off, walked to her grandmother’s bureau, and started to pull clothes that she thought would fit. She found a denim shirt. After years of washing by hand, it was as soft as a cloud. She refused to wear her grandmother’s underwear, but pulled on a pair of the old woman’s jeans. They were loose around Madelyn’s waist and tight on her hips, but they would do. When she turned back towards the door, Madelyn caught sight of herself in the little mirror.
It was amazing—she had nearly become her own grandmother.
David looked smaller. Madelyn walked towards him with confidence. He turned to the side and let her pass.
She went to the kitchen. She didn’t turn when she heard the bathroom door close.
Madelyn busied her hands with cleaning. None of the counters were dirty, but she cleaned them anyway. Every few seconds, she rolled her shoulders and tried to get them to stay down and loose. A few seconds later, she realized that they had tensed up again. Finally, after what felt like forever, the bathroom door opened.
She turned to see David.
He was fully dressed. He looked like himself—confident, in charge, and half wild.
She put her towel down and let her arms fall to her sides. She was ready for the inevitable conversation. This would be when they finally hashed out the boundaries of their relationship. They would formalize the agreement and whittle down some of their hard edges that kept rubbing against each other. Sure, the friction produced heat, but there was only so much heat she needed from a lover. She was warmblooded—most of her heat came from within.
David turned and limped towards the door.
“Lock this behind me,” he said.
He shut the door.
Madelyn lowered her head and closed her eyes.
# # # # #
A few days later, David returned.
It was the same as at the beginning. He would wait for her to finish the last of her outdoor chores. He knew when she was retreating into the cabin for the night. Then, as she slipped past the heavy door, she would let it close slowly and he would follow her in.
They communicated with gestures and grunts. He pulled a pheasant from his sack. Its broken neck hung over his thick fingers. She nodded and he moved to the counter to finish dressing the bird. Madelyn went to the cellar to pull some sweet potatoes to go with the pheasant. They had their old rhythm. Instead of falling apart completely, their status had simply taken a giant step backwards. They had rolled back to when everything worked. It seemed healthy, in a way. Maybe this time they could build something strong and not make the same mistakes.
After they were through with each other for the night, Madelyn climbed into her loft and the wild animal collapsed on the couch. She fell asleep to the sound of his snoring. Everything was in its right place.
David was gone in the morning.
Madelyn had to wait three days for his return. She never once doubted that he would come back healthy and strong. When she saw him hanging around near the old apple tree, she smiled to herself. Once again, he followed her inside. This time, he offered rabbit for dinner.
The next morning, she sat on her porch drinking her tea. His footprints were still visible in the morning dew. He still brushed his right heel when he stepped over things. His left foot had picked up a small turn as well—it was probably from his injury. If so, it was the only sign. He managed to disguise his limp when he walked.
Madelyn sipped her tea.
It felt good to trust him again.
She sighed and looked down at her steaming tea. She knew what she had to do.
# # # # #
Madelyn waited until he was inside. He presented his latest gift—it was a pair of trout. She could already taste the cool stream. Madelyn doubled back and locked the door.
He was at the sink, cleaning the fish.
“I guess I’m not okay being casual like this,” she said.
David looked up. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his brow. He cleared his throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she had heard him string together a sentence.
“I want to be like a real couple,” she said.
“Like I have to tell you where I’m at all the time?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “But I want to know that you’re going to be here. Or, when you’re not, I want to know when you’re coming back.”
“Seems like that would just get you upset,” he said. “Sometimes I roam.”
Madelyn nodded. “You do. That’s true.”
He went back to cleaning the fish. Her grandmother would have approved of the way he took off the scales. He wasted no movement.
“I love you,” she said.
David replied immediately with a question. “If you love a thing, why would you want to change it?”
“I want the thing to love me back,” she said. “If the wind stops pushing, a leaning tree will fall down.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said.
“It does to me.”
He shook his head. �
��Nope. It doesn’t. A leaning tree is weak. You, my dear, are not weak.”
Madelyn frowned and shook away the compliment.
“Would it help if I told you that I loved you as well?” he asked.
“It might. A little. It doesn’t solve the problem though. I need you either in, or out. I can’t take this halfway nonsense. If this is the primary place you intend to lay your head, then say so. I want to know that I’m important to you the same way that you’re important to me.”
David put all of his focus to the fish.
“You remember how we met?” he asked.
Madelyn folded her arms. David glanced up and saw that she wasn’t going to answer.
“I sniffed you out. We were together for twenty-four hours before either one of us said a word. You eventually said that it was the best day of your life.”
“I don’t remember it that way,” she said. “You were like feral animal. I didn’t want to scare you away.”
“We were the same animal. The only difference was that I was out there moving around and you were tied to this place. I just want us to have something real and simple. We don’t need to complicate it all with the trappings of civilization, do we? You know where that nonsense always leads.”
“Contentment?”
David set his knife down. “You know better than that.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
David studied her. He always judged things based on what he could see, hear, and smell, rather than what she told him. It took him a second, but he reached the same conclusion that she had. He wiped his fishy hands on his pants and nodded to her.
“You were so afraid that you would lose what we had, so you decided to blow it up,” he said.
Madelyn didn’t look away. She kept her eyes locked onto his as he walked to her. He cradled her chin with a sticky hand and then planted a delicate kiss on her lips. She felt the kiss roll down her spine and warm her from the inside. She was still feeling it as he unlocked the door and let himself out.
Madelyn looked at her feet.
# # # # #
Madelyn mourned the loss of David. After she hadn’t seen him for a month, she had to assume that he was dead. After a brief ceremony at Sacrifice Rock, Madelyn took David’s old hat and pressed it to her face one last time. She dropped it in the hole, covered it with dirt, and then made a deep incision on her leg.