by Kari Chaplin
“You need to wake up or, at the very least, get back into your body. I need to get you out of here.” He persisted. “We don’t have much time before they come back. I would like this to be the lifetime we defeat our fate and break the curse if that is even possible.”
“Did you call an ambulance? I need to go to the hospital.” I barely pushed the words out through my quivering voice. “Wait! You said ‘they’. What do ‘they’ want from me?”
“After you’ve been through this as many times as I have, you don’t need a hospital. Besides, they’ll look for you there. Come on, we are out of time. Close your eyes and concentrate.”
I did as he commanded and felt myself become heavy with a sense of reality. The air was thick and suffocating. I could feel painful bruising from head to toe. A warm liquid was running down my arm.
I opened my eyes, feeling disoriented and pain everywhere. I looked around the room in search of his sweet face. My head was throbbing. I pressed my hand against IT to try to stop the pain.
“Can you move your arms and legs?” Demien asked.
I moved my body. It hurt like hell, but I could do it. “Yes, barely.” My voice was ragged and hoarse. “What’s going on?”
He ignored my question. “What do you remember?” He placed one arm under my legs and the other under my shoulders as he carefully lifted me from the ground.
I tried to make sense of the jumbled mess in my head. “Umm… Myra and I were hanging out, watching TV. There was a knocking at the door, so I went to answer it. After I opened the door, everything became hazy. I seem to recall knowing the person at my door, but I’m not sure. I can’t remember clearly. I was thrown in the air, hitting the far back wall. I remember seeing Myra approach the door. Oh, no!” I clasped my hands over my mouth and bursted into tears, “Myra? Where is she?”
“Myra is fine,” he said, too calmly. “That girl can take care of herself.” He noticed the fear that had my face frozen. “Trust me.”
My vision was threatening to darken. I focused on his face, but my eyes were blinking. “I’m tired.”
“Don’t close your eyes. Keep focused on me. I’ll have you out of here in a second.”
Everything went black.
“Zanj,” I could hear his voice from somewhere far away. “Love, stay with me.”
I must have been somewhat conscious because I was aware of him talking to me, but everything was black. I felt confused and out of it. Then nothing… His voice was gone.
Twenty-Three
“Where am I?” I asked as I rubbed my head, then my arms and all the way to my toes. Everything hurt.
“In the Hummer… Shhh, save your energy. You’ll need it later.”
“What?” I looked at him. I couldn’t remember what had happened.
“Just get your rest.” He gently reached his right hand behind my head and touched the back of my head and then my neck. He was numbing the pain some. His touch took the edge off the pain throughout my entire body. It was unreal. I was too tired to fight any longer. I went to sleep.
My dream was strange. Myra was running through a forest in her tiny jean skirt and the top she had bought last time we were out shopping. She was running way too fast for her… for any human. Myra jumped half way up the side of a tree or higher when obstacles were in her way. She was like a ninja but much quicker and more efficient. She was loaded down with guns, samurai swords, and other stuff that I didn’t recognize. I thought I saw a bow and arrows? What was she doing?
Myra jumped from the top of one tree to the other, then alongside the trunk, in her stilettos. Her eyes were darting around, but her head wasn’t moving. She seemed to be using other senses along with her vision. Jumping from the tree and onto the ground below, she landed in a defensive crouch as if she were ready to attack. I looked around too but didn’t see anything.
She drew a sword as someone approached. She looked at his face and then straightened her stance, but the sword stayed pointed against his heart. “Long time no see, Eric.”
He held up both hands to show her he meant no harm. “I’m here to help,” he said. His voice was familiar. I couldn’t get a good look at his face. I was staring at his back.
“You don’t help; you hinder. What are you really doing here?” Myra replied. Her eyes were cold.
“What can I say? I was sent to be of help.”
Myra nervously shifted, wondering if she was walking into a trap.
“There is an army headed this way now. You can let me help you or you can face them alone. The latter suits me best. How ‘bout you?” That voice… It was so familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
Myra gulped, trying to swallow the lump. She turned to face west, still holding the sword to his chest. She seemed like she was listening for something. Her features hardened, showing no emotion. “How many?”
“Twenty… er, maybe, thirty,” Eric answered.
She glowered at him for a few moments. “Fine, but you cross me, I will kill you. I’ll rip you apart, slowly. Got it?”
His smug smile deepened. “Why not just rip my heart out?”
“I would, but you don’t have one,” Myra spat. I’ve never seen her so serious, so deadly.
He chuckled. “You may want to take that back. I have a feeling that we will be working together more. It’s time to focus. They are near.”
Myra and Eric nodded to each other and then turned to stand toward the expectant army.
The sunset was extraordinarily bright; I couldn’t see past its brightness. In the horizon, silhouettes levitated. “Whoa, it is an army,” I muttered to myself. I looked down at Myra; she was poised to attack, just like earlier. She did not appear to be worried or frightened. I was worried and frightened for her. I was worried and terrified for her in every way beyond possible. I wanted to grab her and take her back to reality with me, far from this nightmare.
Myra jumped into the air, flipping the sword above her head. My heart stopped. I woke up, panting.
“Myra is fine. She’ll take them down easy enough,” Demien said.
“It was just a dream, right?” I looked at him in terror.
His laugh was dry and concentrated. “They are very rarely just dreams, Vessi.” He was looking at the road, his hand gripped tightly on the steering wheel, his eyes intense.
“Oh…” I replied. I fidgeted in the leather seat. My throat was swollen and dry.
“Water is behind me,” Demien softly voiced. “Aspirin, too.” “You always become fidgety when you’re thirsty,” he offered, cryptically.
“I don’t think you have seen me thirsty,” I argued.
He didn’t look my way. “I’ve seen you thirsty more times than I can count.”
I just looked at him in awe but didn’t bother with elaborations. Prying details out of him was a useless waste of time. I reached behind his seat and grabbed a bottle. “Thanks. Want one?” I mumbled.
“No, thanks.” He looked at me and then back to the road.
I sat quietly, not knowing what to say or think. Tears began to fill my eyes. My best friend, who was a toothpick, was out fighting God knows what. I was sitting next to my “soul mate,” who seems to know everything I was thinking, or at least, was a very good guesser. My sister...
“Shannon… Where is Shannon?” I asked in a panic.
“She’s okay.”
“Where is she?”
“With a friend.” He was scratching his thumb along his forehead, which meant there were things he wasn’t telling me.
“A friend,” I repeated, in a whisper.
I didn’t understand any of this. A dream… this must be a really messed up dream, more like a nightmare.
“No, this isn’t a dream, I wish it were.” I heard Demien whisper to my thoughts. “Take the aspirin. You will feel much better.”
I took the aspirin as directed. I didn’t know what to say. I was very scared for Myra, my sister and myself. I didn’t know what was going on, nor did I know why. This was all crazy. It
was a dream. It had to be. “What happens next?” I managed to ask.
“Well,” he exhaled audibly. “I’m going to take you to your sister. Then I’ll catch up with Myra.
“My sister is safe?”
“Yes, as will you be.”
“Then take me to Myra,” I demanded. “I’m taking her with me.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, distracted. He was looking out of the windshield into the sky.
“You have to,” I was yelling at him. I felt so out of control, so helpless. Demien seemed so calm. “How can you be so calm?”
Pulling off onto a dark, gravel road, he chose not to answer. He put his hand on my neck and massaged a little. With every stroke, the intensity of the pain lessened. I looked down to see my wounds healing.
Twenty-Four
Myra Sparks
I’ve always considered myself a very normal girl. When I was in kindergarten, my main worry consisted of getting a hold of the dark green crayon before anyone else took it. I could always count on my best friend, Vanessa. She was always in line for the supplies first. She would carefully choose her favorite color of the day, not forgetting to grab the darkest green she could find for me. When I was in sixth grade, my main worry was wondering if my breasts were ever going to grow. The most popular girl in school, Jennifer Rumsfeld, was already wearing a bra. I was not. High school brought on a whole new set of troubles; boys, a social life, and the dream of one day getting out of this crappy small town of Chadwick, Oklahoma. As far as small towns go, I’m sure this one isn’t all that bad. We have too many social events to count in each year, so it keeps life rockin’. As an adult, my concerns had been working, shopping and, of course, men. The latter two, I swear, are God’s gift to women.
Then there is my best friend, Vanessa. We grew up together. Our mothers were best friends. Our older sisters are best friends. It’s only natural we would be best friends too. We have a typical friendship. Growing up, our families always teased us about being twins. We have always been extremely close, could read each other’s thoughts and were very in tune with each other’s feelings. I somehow always know when she’ll call before the phone rings. We are so in sync to each other that when she is on her way I’m somehow magically ready when she gets here, as if I knew before I woke up that she would be coming over. When one hurts, we both hurt.
Several years ago, I was on vacation with my mom and sister, our annual girl’s-only vacation. We went to Florida. I had begged Vanessa to come. I hate being apart from her for even a day. She had a summer internship that kept her from coming along. We talked every day. Three days before we were scheduled to come home, I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamt that she had walked into her mom's room and found her mom lifeless. Vanessa was crying hysterically. She grabbed her mom's phone off the nightstand and dialed 9-1-1. Through her hysterical cries, she was trying to breathe life back into her mom. I was seeing this from above them. I couldn't do anything to help. I was trying to make my way down to them, but I couldn't. I woke up in a panic. Something, intuition maybe, told me it had just happened. Something told me it wasn’t just a dream. I was fumbling around half asleep, trying to find my phone when it rang. I gulped, fear stricken. I answered, already knowing it was a very hysterical Vanessa on the other end. I was on the first plane back home. We had always had a tight connection. I always knew when something bad or exciting happened to her. I knew everything concerning Vessi. And she was the same way with me. Although we tend to scare people with our connection and ability to read each other’s mind, we found our friendship had always been very typical. People think we are weird and too close, but what does that even mean anyway? Isn’t it normal to know your best friend better than they know themselves and have a connected mind? Most friends can finish each other’s sentences and know they are calling even before the phone rings, right?
When Demien walked into our bar, something inside me woke up. It felt like a dark wave rolled into my body. Our connection and my instinct to protect her instantly became insanely concentrated, like I was injected with some crazy enhancing drug or something. Up until now, when someone threatened Vanessa, I would confront them, and that would be the end of it. They would back off and apologize with their tails between their legs. I remember in first grade, we were on the playground minding our own business when a third grader, Tyson Barron, came up to us and started making fun of Vanessa. I stood up and wedged myself between him and Vanessa. I was about an inch from him and stood about his same height, which I guess was scary enough that a kindergartener was as tall as a third-grade boy. I snarled or growled or maybe both, I don’t remember.
Anyway, Tyson’s eyes widened, and his face froze in fear. He looked like he had just seen a demon or something. He ran off crying like a girl. It was hilarious. What a wimp. Come to find out he liked her, but he never as much as looked our way again. That type of scenario played out through our life too many times to count. Over the last year, that protective instinct has taken over. I would have never imagined killing someone to protect Vanessa, but I can now… I would kill to protect my best friend. How many people can say that? I’d always thought only the most insane psychos, but I don’t know anymore. Maybe I am an insane psycho.
I find myself in the middle of a holy war that centers on Vanessa. Apparently, she was extremely important to a lot of people. I’m not even sure angels can be called “people.” They look like people. You can’t tell the difference. I don’t know a lot of what’s going on, but I have a feeling that somewhere, deep down, I know what’s going on. At least, I’m supposed to. I have more questions than answers. But somehow when it comes down to it, I pull through. I’m a badass. I can fight; I mean really fight. I can do, like, martial arts and stuff. It’s awesome. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure.
I guess it all became too intense the night Demien walked into the bar. I was working my tables at the bar we work at. It was a pretty good night. I was calm and relaxed, joking around with some locals when my first “psycho” episode happened. I didn’t know why at the time, but my body went rigid. I slowly turned to Vanessa. Somehow, I knew exactly where she’d be. She was approaching table six. An outsider was sitting at the table alone. He was over-the-top hot, no doubt, but I was more concerned about Vanessa. I didn’t know who he was, and I didn’t care. I had my eyes glued to him. I was ready to pounce any minute.
“Myra! Yo, Myra,” Zane Caulfield, one of the locals I was talking with, yelled at me to get my attention.
“Oh, sorry, what?” I replied as I turned back to them.
All four guys started freaking out and climbing out of their chairs away from me.
“What? What is wrong with you guys?” As I moved closer to them, they backed up, tripping over their chairs.
Stephen pointed at me. “Hey guys, do you see that?” They were staring at me, creeping closer now.
“Yeah.” Zane and Terry said in unison, terrified.
“It’s the devil. She has the devil in her.” Corey’s eyes were wide, and his face was sheet white. He was inching backward and then turned and ran out.
“Myra, how did you do that?” Zane asked, intently staring at me. None of the guys ever so much as blinked. Zane and Terry stared into my eyes.
“I don’t understand. Do what? I didn’t do anything.”
“That thing with your eyes,” Terry interjected.
“What thing with my eyes? Someone would please make some sense,” I demanded.
“Your eyes are, I mean were, black. You were chillin’ with us. Then you froze, and it looked like you spaced out. You turned to look at something for a few minutes. When you turned back to us, your eyes were pitch black. I mean like scary, intense black. How did you do that?” Terry explained.
“I don’t know.” I didn’t believe them. “Whatever, guys. You’re drunk. I have to go fill orders. See you guys later.” I said in my usual bubbly voice.
I was used to having less intense urges to watch after Vanessa so I just shrugged t
hem off. I decided not to tell her. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about. She tends to put the weight of the world on her shoulders. She somehow thinks she can save the world. So, I don’t bother her with trivial things that would just stress her out more. Besides, that was the only incident for a long time. Best just to act normal.
I started having weird dreams the day before the mysterious knock at Vanessa’s door. The first significant one was a shock. The previous dreams were minor and weird. I dreamt that I was standing in blackness, and I heard the name “Eve” called out over and over again. In some dreams, I would see myself in a fight, but I would just get glimpses, not much that I could make out. In this first significant dream, I was in total darkness. I couldn’t see anything. I started to panic, but something inside me took over. I calmed down and straightened my posture. I didn’t know my posture could get any straighter. I waited quietly in the darkness, anticipating something.
“It’s time, Eve. Cabin. One hour.”
“I’ll be there,” I replied.
The next thing I knew, my dream picked up in the woods. I didn’t recognize the area. It was a green, thick forest. It was fall, so the trees should have been leafless, and the main color theme should have been brown. Ahead of me stood a small cabin made of redwood. I walked toward it. When I reached the front door, a wood-carved name plate had angel wings on either side of a list of names. Before I could read the top name, the door ripped open. Demien was standing on the other side of the threshold.
“Eve.”
“Demien.”
“Come on in.”
The sound of feet shuffling through leaves caught my attention. approach. A man was laughing in a fun manner, eating an apple. “Ha... ha... ha. Well, hello, Apple Eater,” a man laughed as he chewed an apple..
