by Sara Clancy
“Nicole, talk to me!”
“I’m okay.” The nod of her head was a lot stronger than her voice.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m acting like this. It was nothing.” Swallowing thickly, she nodded again, almost as if agreeing with herself. “I just feel like I need to keep moving right now. I mean, I know it’s late. Or early. And I have no idea where I’m going. This was stupid. You need your sleep.” She heaved a sigh. A broken whimper of a sound. “I can drop you off somewhere.”
“I just got here,” he protested.
“I know. I’m just overreacting and–”
“You’re stuck with me,” Benton cut in. “So, drive.”
A small smile played on her lips, but there wasn’t a chance it would stay. After a moment of silence, she chimed in.
“Seatbelt.”
“I’m sitting on glass.”
“Will that stop your head from bouncing off of the dashboard like a beach ball?”
“It’s creepy that you say that with a smile,” he said while reaching back for the strap. Twisting to click it into place gave him a glimpse of the back seat. He hadn’t been prepared to see the black, smoky mass clustered there. He jerked back so hard the seatbelt engaged and cut into his ribs. “Damn it, Oblong! Give a guy some warning!”
“What?” Nicole snapped, the car lurching to the side as she tried to look into the back.
“It’s just a Death.” He realized after he had said it just how disturbing it sounded. “Don’t worry, he’s not here to collect. Oblong just likes to hang around you.”
That’s even worse.
“What!” Nicole shrieked.
“Not in a creepy way.”
“What exactly would be the non-creepy version of that?”
“I just get the feeling that he finds you amusing. Like watching a puppy.”
Releasing a choked-off gasp, she shook her head. “I honestly don’t know how to respond to that. Oh, wait, I’ve got one. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Because it sounds really creepy.”
“Ya think?”
Her eyes widened as a thought hit her. Suddenly, she was twisting around again, only remembering to keep the jeep on the road when Benton screamed about the fence post they were careening towards.
“It was them!”
“What was?”
“Them! It had to be them! Don’t you see?”
“No, I live on the outside of your head, remember?”
“The sounds!” She still looked at him expectantly before acknowledging that he needed more information. “Each time, just before whatever smashed my windows attacked me, I was startled by a noise. The fright got me out of the way just in time!”
“Death scared you and made you jump out of the way?” Benton clarified.
“Exactly!”
“So, Death saved your life?”
“I think so.” she added, “Ask them.”
“There’s just the one here. And it’s not exactly chatty.”
“Please.”
Benton licked his lips in frustration. It wouldn’t be the first time a grim reaper had interfered. Just in little ways. Hints to move things along. For the most part, they were strictly spectators. Silent. Motionless. He had never heard them speak a word. Craning his neck, he looked back, half hoping that the rear of the jeep would be empty. The haunting figure remained, the bulk of its body still as the wispy edges of its form twisted and coiled in the air like oil in water.
“Did–” he cut himself off, feeling like a complete idiot. “Did you help her?”
It didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. But he knew. As if the knowledge had been shoved into the deepest recesses of his mind, becoming more of an ingrained instinct than a thought.
“Okay,” the word left his lips as he slowly settled back in his seat. “I’m actually impressed. You made friends with Death.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It likes you.”
Nicole beamed, the fear that had twisted up her features relaxing for a second. “Aw, thank you so much. That’s really sweet. Wait. Benton, why do you call it Oblong?”
“They all look like black mist,” he explained. “The only way to tell them apart is the white smear of their skulls. Each one’s shaped a little differently. This one’s kind of oblong.”
“So you call it Oblong?” Her tone said that she wasn’t too impressed.
It got his defenses up. “What else would you call it?”
“An actual name. Death are people, too.”
“No. They’re really not.”
The strangeness of the conversation struck him like a physical blow. Not that they were talking about death. That had been a given since he hit puberty. But discussing death, while a grim reaper sat in the back seat, was something altogether new and baffling. It hadn’t even been a year since he had seen his first. Since death had stopped being a general concept and had become a real, physical presence in his life. One that he could see and interact with. Before Fort Wayward, they had always been hidden from his senses. He knew now that he had felt them, sensed them. But they had always been only a feeling. Now, he saw them so often that he didn’t think it was worth mentioning half the time. He could always tell when they were on the clock and when they were just hanging out. They hung around a lot more. He was starting to think that they just liked the farm.
Maybe ghosts attract them, he thought. Or are we just on cursed ground or something? Either way, it seemed like it should have taken longer for him to adjust to a complete disruption to his world order.
“Mic,” Nicole said abruptly.
Her voice was upbeat and sweet, but her hands were white-knuckled around the steering wheel. She didn’t even let go to push her hair out of her face as the wind through the smashed window ravaged it.
“Sorry?” Benton asked.
“Oblong is a horrible name. I think we can both agree on that. And, since she just saved my life, I think we can put a bit more thought into what we call her.”
“She?”
Nicole glared at him, “What? Death can’t be a girl?”
He lifted his hands in surrender and studied the phantom in the back seat. It showed no sign of hearing them. It more or less just sat here. Staring straight ahead. The fog-like tendrils of its body expanding out beyond the confines of the jeep.
“Mic?” Trying out the name didn’t make it sound any less odd.
“Yep.”
“For a girl?”
“It’s short for Mictecacihuatl, the Aztec goddess of the otherworld.”
His brow furrowed. “Oh, of course.”
With an indulgent look, she adopted her museum hostess voice. At least she doesn’t look scared anymore.
“You pronounce it meek-tay-cah-SEE-wah-tl. She’s also known as the Lady of Death, and was the consort of Mictecacihuatl, king of the otherworld.”
“Right.”
“It’s really rather interesting. In mythology, Mictecacihuatl’s role was to guard the bones of those who had passed and govern over the festivals honoring them. Eventually, some of the traditions were added to what we now call the Day of the Dead.”
“And you’re choosing this name because?”
She grinned. “Because then it’s Nic and Mic.”
“Oh my God.”
She finally let go of the wheel, reaching back as if expecting to receive a high-five from the Grim Reaper. Benton twisted again, watching the specter intensely. It was somehow both shocking and completely expected when a small cloud of smoke stretched out to cloud over Nicole’s palm.
“Oh my God,” he muttered again.
“What happened?” she whispered. “Did I get the high-five?”
Benton smirked and settled back in his seat, feeling the pebbles of glass shift under him, but protected by the material of her jacket.
“Well?”
“Only you can make friends with Death,” he said.
“Benton?”
“Yes, you got your high-five.”
With a sound of victory, she presented him with her hand, refusing to move it until he, too, gave her the requested slap. His hopes that her mood had finally settled for the better was lost when Nicole instantly resumed her grip on the steering wheel. For all of her smiles and laughter, she held on tight enough to dislocate her joints.
“Have you told your mom?” Benton asked.
“I wasn’t attacked near the hospital. She and Amy will be okay.”
“I meant so she can take care of you,” Benton snapped, already fishing in his pocket for his mobile phone.
“Why are you angry with me?”
“You need to tell her this stuff.” Damn Rider women. Dorothy and Nicole were always so busy protecting the other one that they never thought to actually communicate the important things until it was too late.
“You never tell your parents anything,” Nicole noted.
“My parents suck. Your mom is awesome. There’s a key difference there.”
She looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “Why are you two so chummy these days?”
“I’m allowed to have friends beyond you,” he dismissed as he dialed.
Nicole squirmed in her seat, eyeing the phone like it was a rattlesnake. “Just see if she’s okay. Don’t bother her.”
“The whole point of bringing her in on this sort of stuff was so that she would know what’s going on.”
“Fine. Just don’t lead with the danger part. I mean, really, we don’t even know that this ... whatever it is, meant to hurt me.”
“You have Death in your backseat.”
“You said she always hangs around.”
He rolled his eyes as the phone rang in his ear.
“We haven’t even figured out what happened,” Nicole said. “Don’t make her worry until you have to, that’s all I’m asking.
He hummed.
“Benton?”
“I know how to edit information,” he said.
Pressing the phone harder against his ear, he shuffled in his seat and waited for the Constable to answer. It didn’t take more than a few rings.
“You had another dream?” Dorothy asked instantly.
“No. Just letting you know that I’m with Nic right now. Some weird stuff happened and we’re just taking a breather before catching you up.”
“Are you two safe?”
“Yeah. We’re just driving around.”
“I want contact every fifteen minutes with a location update.”
Benton didn’t argue. Searching what he could see around him was a bigger challenge. After a certain point, all the back roads looked the same. Gravel and dirt framed by waist-high grass.
“We’re heading down towards the Buffalo Jump and I’m setting my timer now.”
Dorothy didn’t seem satisfied, but since she had set the terms, she wasn’t about to mention it. “Tell my girl I love her.”
“Will do.”
“And be careful. Don’t go too far out.”
“I’ll let her know,” Benton assured. “Watch your back.”
The moment he hung up, he felt the shift. Not a chill. But heat. A burning pulse that washed out over the back of his neck and crept up over his scalp. It made him turn, searching to see if Mic had felt it too. Before his eyes, the dark shape melted. Pouring down the seats to pool over the car mats.
The heat rolled through his bones as he caught sight of the rear window. Of the creature that was sprinting down the middle of the street. Not fast enough to catch them. But at a steady pace. Something metal glinted in the darkness.
“Get down!”
They dropped just as the windshield shattered. Benton pressed his cheek against the dashboard, trying to hide from the glass that rained down upon him, small pebbles that bounced and scattered, rendering him afraid to move. Something streaked over Nicole’s head, passing through her hair before embedding itself in the dashboard.
“Do you see it?” she asked.
“Drive!” he bellowed, flabbergasted by her priorities.
The wild pull on the wheel threw him against the passenger door. In that moment, he was determined to find out who made safety glass and thank them profusely. What few sharp edges the pebbles had weren’t enough to cut through his jeans or jacket.
Nicole yanked hard on the steering wheel without looking up. The jeep bounced over the uneven ground. Neither of them was prepared for the sudden drop. The car crashed down the trenches that ran alongside the rural highway. In the back of his mind, a voice whispered that this was pretty close to where his parents had bogged their car on the very first day in town. Nicole’s jeep, luckily, was far more suited to handle the boggy ditch. Stagnate water and mud gushed in through the broken windows. With a roar of the engine, the jeep lurched and barreled out into the grass plans.
“Benton, what is it?” Nicole asked.
“How would I know?”
She spared him a sideways glance. “You could try looking.”
“Right.”
While he agreed, he wasn’t looking forward to actually doing it. He braced a hand on the dashboard, ready to use it as leverage to twist around and look between the front seats. Panic kept him from noticing that the arrow dug into the plastic until his fingers brushed against the shaft. Energy pooled against the pads of his fingers. He couldn’t figure out another way to explain it. It was pure, primal, crackling static energy.
“Benton?” Nicole’s voice hovered somewhere between fear and annoyance. A combination that made him snap his head up.
“You can’t see that?”
“What?”
He gestured wildly to the arrow. To him, it looked as real and solid as every other part of the jeep.
“See what?” she asked, glancing back and forth between him and the field of towering grass. The stalks glowed gold in the headlights, smacking around the windshield and covering the view of everything else. “I need some descriptive words.”
“An arrow. Like, a bow and arrow kind of arrow.”
He wrapped his hand around it, feeling the power tingle against his palm. One solid yank and a well-timed lurch of the jeep helped him dislodge it. Mic’s hand reached through the gap. A swirling black mass tipped with bone white. Death’s grip didn’t touch him, instead coiling to point at the arrow. A warning.
He realized it too late. He should have seen it coming. Nicole instantly reached for whatever he was holding, already too captivated to show any caution. The tip of the arrowhead brushed across her index finger. Barely a touch. Nothing that should have cut the skin. But it sliced her flesh open. Before the droplet of blood had time to fall, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped against the seat.
“Nicole!”
Dropping the arrow, he lurched forward, grabbing the side of her neck to shake her slightly. The jeep careened onward. Completely limp, the weight of her foot pressed down on the accelerator, urging the jeep faster until they were driving wildly over the flat earth. In a state of panic, it didn’t even occur to Benton to take the wheel.
Not until the front of the jeep crushed down a hunk of grass to reveal the side of the barn.
He lurched for the wheel a second before impact.
Chapter 5
“Where is she?” Dorothy didn’t bother to close the door of her patrol car as she bolted towards the remains of the barn.
“She’s okay. Mic is looking after her,” Benton assured. They fell into step as they hustled back towards the barn. Early morning had turned the sky a rich purple, allowing them to see shapes and figures if not colors. He held up the arrow, carefully holding it by its shaft. “Quick question, can you see this?’
“Who is Mic and what are you talking about?” Dorothy asked.
He explained the arrow and the new nickname for the grim reaper in the space of a few steps. Dorothy’s eyelids fluttered as she drew in a sobering breath.
“We are going to have conversations later,”
was her only verbal response.
They were jogging as they entered the barn. It was a rickety structure. Broken with time and neglect, currently held up by the lime green jeep burrowed into its side. Benton had turned off the lights but hadn’t attempted to move the jeep itself. Grass had broken apart the floorboards to cover the floor like a carpet. It had made it easy to stretch Nicole out and keep her hidden from sight at the same time. Dorothy sprinted to her daughter, cooing softly under her breath as she kneeled down and checked her child for injury.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here now. You’re safe.” Her voice turned into something harder as she looked over her shoulder. “Did she hit her head?”
“No. I don’t think anything’s broken and she’s been breathing normally the whole time.”
Dorothy kept Nicole’s head stable with one hand on her cheek and shook her shoulder.
“Nicole, honey, can you hear me? Open your eyes.”
There was no response. Dorothy pulled out her flashlight, first checking Nicole’s coloring before looking for her eye dilation. The glare made her pupils contract like normal. No concussion, Benton thought with relief. He only looked away from the examination as Mic drifted closer to his side. The small blob of white was fixed upon Nicole. He couldn’t decide if this was terrifying or reassuring. Dorothy took Nicole’s hand, still studying her with her flashlight.
“Okay, sweet girl. Squeeze my hand. Nicole, if you can hear me, just squeeze my fingers.”
Nothing. Dorothy twisted around to glare at Benton.
“She hasn’t woken up?”
Benton shook his head.
“Is there a reason that you didn’t take her to the hospital?”
“That’s a stick shift,” Benton said. “And I can’t drive anything.”
“Right.”
“Plus, I don’t think they’ll be able to help,” he continued. When the woman’s brow furrowed, he wiggled the arrow in the air. It took a second for it to click.
“Is it okay for you to be touching that thing?” she asked.
“Nicole was cut by the tip. The shaft seems fine.”
