Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone

by Styles, M. A.

  He pulled his blanket back up to his chin and let himself sink back down into the cushions. He had just started drifting back to sleep when he heard the sound of the kitchen door slowly opening up. He opened his eyes again to see Nico quietly slinking back into the house, coming in from watch. He closed the door with a slow creak, and turned to the fire. Jack could make out his face in the glow of the orange coals. He looked tired, but nothing different from what anyone else would look like coming back from a long night of waiting for something to happen.

  Nico walked over to the fire and placed a few more logs on, stoking it back up to fight against the morning chill some more. Jack was about to close his eyes so Nico wouldn’t see him watching, when Mac started again.

  It was a bit more this time, or maybe Jack was more awake than he was before. He could now make out her saying No. No! and her arms began to thrash, fighting against her nightmare. Nico turned and looked at her for a moment. Then he got up, and walked right past her into the kitchen. Jack was taken aback for a moment. He assumed Nico would take care of her. Wake her up or something, but he just walked past her and started pouring himself a cup of water. Just as Jack was about to get up and shake her awake, Nico put the pitcher down, took the glass, and walked back over.

  He took a seat on the edge of that great marble topped coffee table, right in front of her, and placed the glass off to his side. Suddenly Mac let out the beginning of a scream, “Ehhhhvv!” and Nico reached over and grabbed her arm gently, cutting her off. She sat bolt up right, and in the light of the rising sun Jack could see she was shaking, and her chest was heaving.

  Nico reached off to the side and grabbed the glass of water, then handed it to her. She took it with shaking hands and sipped until she caught her breath. Then he took it back, and placed it again off to the side as she swung her legs over the couch and faced him, but she never looked up. She just put her head in her hands and was still. Nico leaned forward until her forehead touched his chest, and she leaned into it just a bit more. He rested his chin on the top of her head, nestling it just slightly into her hair, and placed his hands on the top of her knees. He took a deep breath, looking even more tired from the sadness that just crept into his face. And they stayed liked that. Not a word exchanged between them, and for how long Jack didn’t know. He had closed his eyes when he realized it seemed private. A weak spot. All of it he was sure Mac wouldn’t have wanted him or anyone else to see.

  He woke up a little later, when the sun was fully over the tree tops. Nico was gone. Mac was gone. Her blanket folded, and placed on the back of the couch again. Not even the water glass was left. And if he hadn’t been so sure it happened, he would’ve believed it was a dream.

  CHAPTER 13

  Happy to Help

  Jack swung his legs to the front of the couch, and reached for his boots. As he laced them up, he could hear people talking outside. He stood and was about to make his way out, but turned back to fold his blanket up and stack his pillow on top of it in an attempt to clean his space. Then he decided to check the rooms Cara and Charlie were in, and found that each were in the beginning of rising for the day, too. It was obvious Charlie was going to take a little longer by the way his eyes squinted to the light, and how his entire face joined in when the voices outside got a little louder.

  Jack shook his head at him with a smirk. “There’s a pitcher of water in the kitchen. We’re going to head out there and see what’s going on.” Cara squatted down outside the door tying her boot laces, then rose to join Jack. As they walked towards the door they heard the galloping steps of an approaching horse growing louder and louder. They looked out the window to see Mac riding in on an all black horse, save for a white streak in its mane, and a spot on its nose. She dismounted in front of the open barn doors, and leaned against the animal, stroking its face. Beth came out and grabbed the reigns, gently guiding it back into the barn. Mac turned and looked right at the back of the house by the huge garage as the voices rose louder again. As she started walking over, Cara and Jack made their way out too, following the stone path they had taken to the campfire last night.

  As they rounded the corner they were greeted with a strange sight. Off to the side of the workshop stood a group of five, all gathered together, seemingly arguing about something. When Mac met the group they all turned to her, and started talking at once. A moment later she put her hands up to quiet them all.

  “Alright, alright,” she said as Cara and Jack walked into the conversation. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “I know, but I want to take care of it before it solves its own problem without us knowing,” Richy said, looking extremely exhausted from being up all night. “The first two were no problem,” he said pointing behind the workshop. “But we’ve never had to handle something like this before.”

  Jack and Cara craned their heads around the crowd and saw the fairly rotten bodies of two that had turned, each with one side of their heads flattened against the ground, and their limbs at strange angles.

  “Ok,” Mac looked at Richy. “Don’t worry about it, we know it’s there, and I don’t really think he’s going anywhere for a while.” She looked up the side of the cliff that stood high as their back wall. “Someone will just have to keep an eye on it.”

  Everyone’s gaze followed hers up the rock, frowns of concern setting in on their faces. Cara and Jack searched around a bit, trying to match their line of sight. They were just about to ask what everyone was talking about when Richy threw a rock with a good amount of force behind it, that landed midway up the stone face of the cliff. If the motion hadn’t caught their eye, they could have easily followed the sound of the breathy, agitated snarls.

  In the middle of the jagged wall hung another wanderer, dangling at its midsection where it was impaled on what was left of a broken trunk of a small tree. The dirty, slanted pike was slick with thickened, old blood. A bit more oozing out with every flail of its captive.

  “Well, it looks like it’s not going to come down anytime soon. It’s not old enough to fall apart for us, and it’s not just going to lift itself off it,” Rae said as she held her head almost straight up with the rest of them.

  “It looks like we have two options. Wait it out, or climb up,” Mac said dryly.

  “Are you volunteering?” Richy joked.

  Mac smirked at him, “I guess if I have to I will, but why risk one of us when we can just let its own sickness take care of it. Look at it. It can’t move its legs. The spine is snapped from being speared. It’ll have to drag itself. Eventually it will tear apart, or some carrion bird will help it along.”

  “I want that thing down,” came a voice from behind them. They all turned to see Antonia trudging over to them. “I won’t have another one destroying anymore of our home or risk it getting any of us.” She started to walk towards the closest garage door to the workshop. “Let’s start by finding the tallest ladder we have,” and she yanked up the door by the handle and started to roll it up and open.

  Mac, Richy, and Rae walked over to her. “Antonia, the ladder will get us a third way there, at best. I’ll have to climb it,” Mac said, stopping her before she could enter the garage.

  Antonia paused thoughtfully, pulling her thick knit sweater tightly around her self, “Like, hell. You do enough here.”

  “No where near what any one else does who lives here,” Mac said with pointed seriousness.

  “Toni, who else is going to do it? Who else could even do it?” Rae asked with sad skepticism.

  “I’ll do it,” Jack said, still standing off to the side with the others.

  The group with Antonia whipped around and looked at him. Mac studied him carefully.

  “I rock climb. Well, I did. It won’t be the hardest thing I ever scaled,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. But he thought about how no other mountain he climbed ever had a rotting person set on biting through his face at the finish point.

  Mac turned her gaze to Cara while the rest still looked a
t Jack.

  “He can do it,” she said, taking a step towards him to stand at his side. “Hell, I’ve seen him on the climbing wall at our place. He’s the only one out of us who could do it there, too.”

  Jack looked at Mac, trying to convey some confidence, and she searched him thoughtfully. “I guess your knowledge of rocks does come in handy every now and again then, huh?” A bit of sarcasm edged her words with a slight smirk.

  “At least it does today,” he replied with a nervous smile. He turned to Antonia. “Please, let me help.”

  She took a deep breath and swept some hair off her forehead. “Alright, what do you need?”

  He started to take his heavy jacket off. “Honestly,” he answered as he started unlacing his boots and prying them off. “Nothing.” He walked over to where the slate met the ground and looked up. He was standing there in a dark blue, tight thermal shirt. He looked down at his dirty, worn out socks. His big toe was poking through on both. He started to rub his hands together as he studied the sporadic and tiny ledges for the best path.

  “What the fuck?” Wyatt said from behind them, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and staring up at the writhing creature above them.

  “A few party crashers from last night,” Richy said walking over to him.

  “Too much noise brings the jumpers every time,” Antonia said looking at Wyatt from the corner of her eyes.

  “And he’s gonna get ‘em?” he asked in disbelief as he looked at Rae.

  “Looks like he’s sure as hell gonna try,” she sighed.

  “Hey!” Wyatt yelled, making his way over to Jack as he was about to start. “You’re going to need this,” he said with a smart ass look on his face, and handed him a sheathed hunting knife that he had unclipped from his own belt.

  Jack took it from him and put it on. “Thanks,” he said, feeling a bit dumb. What the hell did he plan on doing to it when he got up there? Slap it around a bit? “This will definitely help,” he joked, and turned back to the wall of stone and earth. He shook his hands and legs out, as he psyched himself up to begin again.

  Everyone stood silently behind him as he jumped up a bit to grab the first ledge a half a foot above his outstretched hand. Then he got ahold of some spots with his semi-socked toes, gripping as best he could on the cold stone. The worn parts of the socks at the pads of his feet let the chill leach in immediately. As he ascended, he formed his approach so that he’d end up right to the side of it, in arms reach, putting himself in its arms reach too. Every move he made had the thing getting more and more animated. Its movements started to look much less lazy, and the unsettling sounds it made grew louder as he closed in.

  He set his focus from one hold to the next, making sure the brittle slate held him before putting all his weight on it. Jack saw he was about five more moves away from being in a position to end the thing, which was looking right at him with sunken eyes. Its fingers were outstretched reaching for him, and the snarls were made much louder by the silence from the crowd below. Jack swung his right arm up and out for the next length, and it lunged for him too. He realized looking it right in the face wasn’t going to help ease the climb, so he looked straight ahead at the jagged, gray, layered rock inches from his face, and tried to gather himself. Deep breath, after deep breath. He was surprisingly still in good shape from using the wall back at the Block, but his nerves were getting the better of him. He was trying to swallow down the strange, unwelcome feeling of intense vulnerability.

  The next move he made put him just under the direct path of what he saw now was once a man, probably around his own age. All he had to do was close the distance with the grip hold he saw up and over to the side of him. Then he could reach over and finish it. Instead he found himself looking too closely at it. The man hadn’t been like this for long. His skin had just started to sink to the bone, more white-gray than purplish-green. Its fingers were barely even worn, no dirt under its nails, which were actually cleaner than his. Its clothes still looked in good shape, save for the large tear on the front and back from landing on the sharp, broken point of the small tree. It didn’t even seem like this guy knew it was coming. Whatever happened to him, came with him being none the wiser. Or maybe it was his own choice to end who he was and finally escape.

  “You’re going to have to make it fast,” came a voice to his ear. It filtered through his thoughts and into his brain before he realized he didn’t know how long he had been clinging to that spot. “Try and do it in one motion as you make your way over. Before it can grab you, and pull you off.” Mac sounded calm and strong, and he almost looked down to see her stoic face, but realized that was definitely the wrong move to make.

  “Yup,” he said just after too long of a pause. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he thought how odd it was to be hanging, untethered from the side of a cliff, and be scared of something other than falling.

  He looked for the spot where he needed to grab in the rocks to finally go for the thing. The face of the cliff was easy enough, with its consistent ledges. It was almost like taking a tiny, very steep, uneven staircase. But what he wasn’t too confident about was the fact he was going to have to hold a large knife in his dominant hand, while lunging over and getting his other arm across himself to grab hold. All while sliding both feet over with it. The usual three point suspension stance he was used to was now going to become a flying free for all where only one part of his body would be touching the stone- if he was lucky.

  The sound of his blood pumping in his ears was deafening, and he was pretty sure everyone on the ground could hear him breathing from fifty feet below. He reached down to his belt and unsheathed the heavy, razor sharp hunting knife and gripped the handle. With the blade pointing down, he brought his hand up and out to test the motion, trying to plan in his head the movement that would give him the best chance of not falling, not dying. But Jack noticed that with the raise of his hand, the deadman followed it with his head, holding it up as much as its neck could stretch towards it, like a reflex, and he saw his opening.

  Now or never, he thought, and rose his hand up in an extremely exaggerated motion causing it to stretch its head up and out, giving him a much clearer target. Jack gave a jump and lunged to the side grabbing hold where he could with his other hand. He avoided the reaching arms that could pull him off the rock, and slammed the knife into its temple, causing the body to completely go slack and drop. It folded in on itself and was left dangling from the spike, but when the body shut off, the knife was still embedded in its skull. And Jack was still holding onto it. The sudden dead weight of the thing tugged him down with it and pulled his own body away from the rock.

  Shit! he thought. The last word he was sure everyone who unexpectedly fell to their death thought. All their ability of cognitive reasoning escaping their minds as the survival panic flooded their veins with adrenaline, and the realism of immediate death hit them. Thankfully, he kept hold of the knife, and as he slid down the rock with the corpse’s collapse, the extra moment he got from the knife stuck in its skull stopped him from falling. He scrambled with his limbs as he looked for any more anchor points for his feet and hand. He could hear the sound of vertebrae popping apart in the body as it supported his weight for just that second. He regained control again, and he let go of the knife so he could give himself another support point. As he clung back to the rock wall, hugging it so close his nose and lips were pressed against it, he could hear them calling to him from below. His pulse was even louder in his ears than before.

  He hung there, and caught his breath. His chest was heaving so much it was actually pushing him away from the wall with each breath he took in, then bringing him back in on every exhale. After what felt like hours, but was more likely seconds, he steadied himself enough to start his dissent. And with five feet left to the ground he just jumped, ready to be on solid, horizontal footing again.

  The group had moved in much closer to the wall, but didn’t crowd him. Cara walked over to him first.

&nb
sp; “You alright?” she said with a grin and sincerity.

  He took a big breath and smiled, putting his hand to his head. “Yeah.” He looked back up in almost disbelief as he saw the body with it’s lifeless limbs up there like a marionette, and how far up he just was.

  “You’re hurt.” Mac said as she walked up to him. He looked at her with confusion, he felt fine. Then she pointed to his forehead that was now smeared with blood, and grabbed the hand he had used to wipe his brow. A few jagged cuts were torn across his hand when he was scrambling to get himself back on to the rock wall. She looked up at him when they both noticed his hands were shaking. He was starting to come down from the adrenaline rush. “Come on, I’ll clean you up.”

  She dropped his arm and started for the house when Wyatt stopped them. “I hate to be that guy. I mean thanks and all that, really, but, uh-.” He scrunched up his face a bit and cocked his head to the side as he looked back up at the corpse. “You kind of left my knife… up there.”

  Everyone’s head looked upward to see the blade glinting in the sunlight as it sat still embedded in the skull of the man.

  Rae smacked Wyatt in the back. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked rhetorically.

  “What? It’s my favorite knife,” he said in complete seriousness.

  As everyone looked from the knife back to Wyatt with a cocked eyebrow, the pressure became too much. “I mean, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll get it eventually,” he said, attempting to play it off.

  Antonia shook her head at him, then looked to Jack. “Thank you so much. Are you sure that’s the only spot you injured?”