“Sorry.” Marie stuttered. “Who are you and where am I?”
“I am Catherine.” She walked up to Marie and held out her hand.
“Catherine?” Marie took her hand and shook it. “What is going on?”
“How do you mean?” Catherine asked.
“Where are we?” Marie indicated to the forest.
“A forest.” Catherine smiled.
“You were shot.” Marie rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. “Kimimela saw you get shot.”
“Did she really?” Catherine said. “Yet here I am.”
“Am I dead?”
Catherine laughed.
“You were for a few minutes.” Catherine responded. “Possibly a little longer.”
“What?” Marie gasped. “I’m confused.”
“Walk with me.” Catherine walked past Marie and made her way through the forest. Marie scoffed and then ran after her.
“What do you mean I was dead?” Marie asked.
“You were shot Marie. Twice. You died within a minute from massive blood loss.” Catherine said with a smile. “Your last word was, Sophie.”
“Oh my god.” Marie’s hand went to her face. “Sophie. She is all alone.”
“Do not worry about Sophie.” Catherine put her arms around Marie’s shoulder. “She is being looked after.”
“Who by?” Marie asked. “Why can’t I remember much of what happened?”
“You were shot protecting Kimimela.” Catherine said. “She was hurt but she will be fine.”
“She has a gift.” Marie remembered. “She saved Sophie.”
Catherine nodded.
“Such a beautiful young lady your Sophie.” Catherine said with a smile.
“She isn’t mine.” Marie corrected her.
“Regardless of the fact that you didn’t give birth to her. You are still her mother.” Catherine said. “She thinks of you as a mother.”
“How do you know?” Marie stepped away. “How do you know that?”
“She told Kimimela.” Catherine sighed. “Sophie has been planning a surprise for you.”
“What?” Marie wanted to know, as much as she hated surprises, it warmed her heart.
“Not my place to say.” Catherine laughed.
“Things will never be the same now.” Marie said. “I will probably lose her.”
“No.” Catherine stopped.
Marie realised and stopped, turning around to face her.
“What do you mean no?” Marie asked.
“Jackson knows many people, people of power.” Catherine took her jacked off and dropped it to the floor. “Valerie wanted to have Sophie removed from your care, however.” Catherine removed her shoes. “Jackson knew a secret that she never wanted to see the light of day.” Catherine smiled deviously.
“What is it?” Marie asked.
“She helped her father die.” Catherine began to walk into the forest again.
Marie stood open-mouthed.
“Wow.” She scoffed.
Marie ran after Catherine again as she disappeared into the forest.
“Wait?” She called out. “Where did you go?”
Marie arrived at the fallen tree by the lake, the clear sky allowing the moon to reflect off the perfectly still water.
“Beautiful.” Marie admired it.
She noticed the grey trousers, white blouse and underwear on the ground near the fallen tree.
“Catherine?” Marie shouted. “Catherine?” She called out louder.
The water rippled and Catherine broke through the surface, breathing deeply.
“The water is warm.” Catherine gasped. “And beautiful.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Marie said. “Not a fan of water.”
“Are you afraid?” Catherine teased.
“No.” Marie shook her head.
“Come on.” Catherine waved her in.
Marie groaned and stepped into the water, gasping at the cold.
“You said it was warm!” She exclaimed. “Jesus!”
“It is all in your head.” Catherine laughed. “Dive.”
Marie took a deep breath and dived in, skimming the bottom of the lake she could barely see Catherine at the top as she swam up. She could feel the water begin to warm up, her heart thumping in her chest. Breaking the surface of the water, she breathed in deeply and came face to face with Catherine.
“Where are you?” Marie asked.
“Right here.” Catherine smiled.
“No that isn’t what I mean.” She sighed. “That night, the night I found Kimimela.”
“Yes?” Catherine asked.
“What happened.” Marie brushed her hair back from her face. “You were shot and lost a whole ton of blood, sorry but there is no way you walked from that.”
Catherine didn’t say anything.
“Did Kimimela try and help you?” Marie asked.
“It is a little hard to explain.” Catherine said. “How about I show you?”
Catherine dived under the water, splashing Marie who spluttered and wiped her face. She waited for Catherine to surface but after several seconds, nothing.
“Catherine?” Marie said nervously. “You ok?”
Marie groaned and dived under.
Marie raised her head above the water, choking and rubbing her eyes. When she opened them, she realised she wasn’t in the lake anymore. In a panic she stood up in the bath, looking around the bathroom.
Cathine stood by the door, putting on her white bathrobe and tying it.
“Where are we?” Marie said. “Is this your bathroom?”
“Yes.” Catherine smiled and threw a bathrobe to Marie who caught it. “Come and watch.”
Catherine opened the door and stepped out, letting it close behind her.
“Wait.” Marie climbed out of the bath and wrapped the bathrobe around her. “Catherine?” She whispered.
Marie stepped into the hall, looking down the end before she approached the banister, looking down at the hall below.
Catherine looked up at Marie and smiled.
“That is the guy from the hospital.” Marie suddenly understood. “Kimimela knew you had something to do with this.”
“It is ok Martin.” Catherine nodded in understanding. “Calm down.”
“Come here.” Jon aimed the gun and pointed to the vase next to the stairs. “Stand here and shut up.”
His hand trembled. Catherine could see the gun shaking slightly as she slowly made her way towards the stairs.
“I will co-operate.” Catherine said. “You don’t need to aim that gun at me.” She was afraid that his own nervousness would accidentally set the gun off. “I’ll give you what you need.” She stopped next to the vase.
“Sorry Miss Catherine.” Martin moaned. “I didn’t mean for this.”
“Hey?!” Marie shouted. “What is going on?”
No one could hear or see Marie.
“Shit.” Marie groaned. “I’m invisible.” Marie made her way down the stairs, looking at Jon and Martin as she slowly took each step. She walked past Catherine towards the front door.
“You need to do what Jon tells you now.” Catherine told him.
“No.” Martins words became angry. “I want to come back.”
Martin turned to Jon and put the money to his chest causing him to grab hold of it awkwardly.
“Martin stop!” Jon snapped. “What are you doing?!”
Martin dumped the money against Jon and pushed him slightly. Jon struggled and tried to balance the bundle against his chest, losing his grip on the revolver.
He tried to grab it, fumbling as it slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor.
Marie turned and ran, but her legs felt as if they were glued to the spot.
Everything went in slow motion as Jon watched the revolver fall to the floor, the barrel facing towards Catherine as it hit the floor and a deafening blast echoed around the room as the revolver fired. The bullet skimmed Martins jacket as he re
coiled in shock and covered his ears, dropping to the floor and cowering. The revolver fell to the side and spun, a gentle wisp of smoke exiting from the barrel.
“Miss Catherine!” He screamed in distress. “No!” He howled and scrambled on his hands and knees towards her.
Marie managed to break into a run, she bent down to help Catherine only for an invisible force threw her backward, slamming her into the wall. She lay on the floor dazed, looking at Catherine. She watched as both men ran from the room, through the kitchen. Seconds later Martin ran back into the hall, looking down at Catherine.
“I am so sorry Miss Catherine.” He moaned. “I didn’t want this to happen.” Tears ran down his face.
Marie tried to speak.
“I know Martin.” Catherine struggled, coughing up blood. “I forgive you. Now. Leave.” She groaned. Catherine sighed and went limp, her hand falling from her neck. Her eyes and mouth were wide open.
“Miss Catherine?” Martin moaned. “Please talk to me.”
Marie found the strength to stand.
“She is dead you idiot.” Marie snapped. “Your friend killed her!”
“Please Miss Catherine.” Marin’s hand shook as it hovered over Catherine’s face.
“What wrong with you?” Marie said, the hate building in her. “She was nothing but nice to you.”
Martin's hand went to close Catherine’s eyes.
“You rest Miss Catherine.” Martin sobbed.
Catherine shuddered, with a growl she grabbed hold of Martins' hand.
Martin screamed out in shock as Marie stepped back.
“Miss Catherine you are alive!” Martin said, excitement in his voice.
Catherine growled and her eyes open, grey and glazed over.
“Miss Catherine you are hurting me.” Martin moaned.
Catherine lifted Martin off the ground, dangling him from his neck and threw him against the floor, dazing him. Martin groaned and within seconds he was unconscious.
“What the hell?” Marie couldn’t understand what was going on. She had just witnessed an eighty-year-old woman, after getting shot in the neck lift a fully-grown man and slam him in the ground.
Catherine bent down over Martin and lifted his top, revealing his bare chest. With a gentle growl and moan, she placed her hand over Martin’s heart.
Martin began to convulse, he woke up and tried to get away from Catherine, but she was too strong for him.
“Please.” He begged. “Please.”
Catherine placed her hand over his mouth, and throwing her head back she screamed, a pained primal scream.
Martin became still.
Catherine stood up, groaning as blood poured from her mouth.
“Catherine?” Marie said softly. “Are you okay?”
Catherine slipped out of the bloody bathrobe, dropping it to the floor and staggered to the door leading to the basement, opening she disappeared down the stairs.
“Catherine?” Marie ran to the door and opened it, looking down into the dark basement. “Deja vu.” She groaned and flipped on the light, making her way down the steps.
She paused at the bottom.
“Catherine?” She whispered. “Where are you?”
Walking to the refrigerator, she could hear moans and groans coming from inside, slowly she opened the door.
Catherine lay on the floor in the foetal position, convulsing. Marie tried to walk to her, but an invisible barrier stopped her from entering the refrigerator.
“Catherine?” She said.
There was a series of snapping sounds, crunching and tearing. Catherine moaned and arched her back, clenching her fists and shaking violently.
Marie watched in shock as Catherine began to change, her hair became darker by the second, her wrinkles began to fade and her body became toner, she began to shrink, her body getting smaller and smaller. It only lasted seconds and Marie fell back against the door, her mouth open in shock.
“Kimimela.” Marie recognised the little girl she had found in the same house, cold and afraid.
Kimimela sat up, pulling her knees against her chest and sobbing.
“Oh Kimimela.” Marie said, wiping tears from her face.
“Marie?” Catherine’s voice came from behind her.
Marie got to her feet and looked in the refrigerator to find Kimimela had disappeared.
“You are Kimimela?” Marie asked.
“Depends on how you look at it.” Catherine smiled. “Or is Kimimela Catherine.”
“Kimimela’s story is a lie?” Marie said, the anger and frustration building in her.
“Only some of it.” Catherine sighed. “Jackson and Elizabeth lied to protect me.”
“I don’t understand.” Marie stuttered. “One minute you are an old lady, and the next a child.”
“I understand how you feel.” Catherine said. “I understand your fear.”
“I am not afraid.” Marie laughed. “Why did you say anything? Why the big show?”
“There was no show.” Catherine shook her head. “The process left me with deep trauma and memory loss. I only got my memory back the day my true name was given to me.”
“You remember everything?” Marie asked.
Catherine nodded.
“Are you an alien.” Marie asked.
Catherine burst into laughter.
“No.” She sighed. “Nor am I a mutant, or a witch or whatever stories people come up with these days.” Catherine sat down on the stairs.
“So how?” Marie asked. “Are there others like you?”
Catherine shook her head.
“I have searched.” Catherine paused. “My story started many years ago, when Jackson and Elizabeth found me.”
“Where?” Marie wanted to know.
“What is your history like?” Catherine stood up.
“It is okay I guess, not great.” Marie was curious.
Catherine walked to the top of the steps and opened the door, looking down at Marie.
“Have you heard of Wounded Knee?” Catherine asked.
“The battle?” Marie nodded.
“It was not a battle.” Catherine snapped. “It was a massacre.” Catherine walked through the door, letting it slam behind her.
“Sorry.” Marie groaned. “Catherine?” Marie looked in the refrigerator and then ran up the stairs. “Catherine, wait!” She ran through the door.
EIGHT
Wounded Knee - 1890
Marie was blinded when she stepped through the door, then the cold hit her. Shivering she crossed her arms, trying to focus. She was surrounded by thick smoke, the burning wood, animal skins and something else she couldn’t identify. Coughing she covered her nose and mouth with the sleeve of the bathrobe.
“Hello?!” Marie called out. “Catherine?”
A cry cut through the silence, a cry of fear and agony.
“Who is there?” Marie stepped forward.
The cries got louder and more desperate. Marie’s heart sank when she realised it was a child.
“Where are you?” Marie called out. “I want to help!”
Marie started to run towards the sound, feeling the snow crunch under her bare feet. She ignored the burning pain in her feet and ankles, the concern for the child was greater.
Marie tripped, landing heavily against the frozen ground she groaned. Her lip began to bleed where she had bitten into it, blood dripped onto the snow. She turned around to face what she had tripped over.
The man was clad in cloth and animal skins, his long grey hair bloody and dirty. His face was frozen in fear and desperation, splattered in blood from where a bullet had hit him in the forehead. Blood had frozen at the base of his head. He lay on his back, his hands clenched at his chest and his legs folded under him. A bullet wound in the middle of his chest.
“What the hell?” Marie stood up.
The smoke had begun to clear, revealing hundreds of bodies in the snow and ice. The ground was red with blood, frozen. Dogs and horses lay amongst the
bodies. Tipis lay collapsed and smouldering from where they had been burnt down, several wooden huts and horse carts still in flames.
Marie moaned, feeling her stomach growl as she fought not to be sick.
The cry broke her concentration and she slowly moved towards it, climbing over bodies as carefully as she could.
A groan caused her to stop, she noticed the young man lying against a horse.
“Oh no.” Marie gasped and walked over to him, bending down. There was a puddle of blood on the ground where he sat, Marie groaned when she saw the wound at his abdomen, his intestines had spilled out from the gash, blood and bile trickling down his legs. He was dressed in a similar way to the body she had seen earlier, the man’s hair was black and long, decorated with beads and feathers.
He looked at Marie, muttering in a language she couldn’t understand.
“I am sorry.” Marie stuttered. “I don’t understand.
Marie didn’t notice the soldier that came up behind her, a tall slim middle-aged man with a thick blue uniform, he wore a fur overcoat and a fur hat. Holding a rifle in one hand and a glass flask in the other, he approached the young man.
Marie stood up and stepped back.
“What are you doing?” She said. “Who are you?”
The solder couldn’t see Marie.
“How are you still alive?” The soldier said, drinking from the flask and finishing the contents. He then threw it over his shoulder.
The man groaned and softly spoke.
“Unless you talk in English kid.” The soldier laughed. “I ain’t got a clue what you are saying.”
The man spat at the soldier who looked down at his trousers and groaned.
“You people are animals.” The soldier snarled and raised the butt of the rifle and hit the man on the side of the face. Blood splattered in the soldier's face and he laughed, hitting the man several times until he was out of breath.
Marie watched in horror as the soldier stepped away, revealing the young man’s face smashed to a pulp. His breathing shallow as he twitched, blood oozing from his face.
“Fucking animal!” Marie snapped.
Hearing a noise, the soldier turned and saw the young girl run from one of the shacks. He instantly cocked his rifle and aimed.
“No!” Marie yelled and ran at the soldier, but she was thrown back into the ground, groaning as she landed heavily against the cold and hardness.
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