He smiled as he pulled back onto the highway and didn’t stop for the rest of the day.
_______________
Taylor closed her door and stood outside her car, waiting for Mrs. Hayes to get out of the passenger seat. The woman was skeptical of everything, like Taylor’s news was too much to handle, and she might end up in a room beside her son at the Gilden Psychiatric Hospital if she went inside.
Taylor had to wave her out, but eventually, the forty-year-old mom emerged and walked toward her. “Are you sure he’s okay?” she asked.
“He’s been through a lot, but I swear he isn’t crazy. He saw what he saw, and so have I. It’s gone now. He’s going to be fine,” Taylor said. She’d considered withholding the total truth and had refrained from some of it, which hadn’t been hard, since the woman didn’t seem to want to hear any facts. Her head was buried deep in the sand, but Trevor wasn’t meant to stay there, and Taylor needed his mom to come sign him out.
They walked together in silence, and the sun cast its glorious rays onto them, making Taylor wish she’d left her sunglasses on. Her thoughts drifted to Brent, who’d spent two nights in the hospital after last Saturday’s attack. He was different now: darker, brooding, and he seemed more protective, like he always needed to be around her. It had been hard to escape him for the day, but he’d finally given in. She loved him so much, but now that it was all over, she knew their relationship was changed forever.
Two days in Red Creek had altered the course of her life. The town seemed to have that effect on her family.
The beautiful brick building stood like a rock, and the door opened as they approached it to reveal a smiling Doctor Herman Bryenton. “Welcome. Good to see you again, Clare Bothwell.”
Taylor had forgotten she’d used an alias, and grinned sheepishly at Mrs. Hayes, who’d lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her.
“You too, Doctor. Thank you for meeting us. How’s Trevor?” Taylor asked. It was obvious Mrs. Hayes hadn’t been here in a long time, because Bryenton was avoiding making eye contact. Trevor’s mom was shifting from side to side, clearly nervous about the whole situation. Taylor tried to look at it from her perspective. Her son had grown increasingly paranoid and delusional over the course of a few months leading up to the final attack. She had no idea his fears were substantiated until Taylor had called her with an explanation.
“Trevor is doing remarkably well. Whatever you did when you visited helped dramatically, and by Sunday, he was asking to leave his room. I daresay his affliction is a thing of the past, or at least in regression.” The doctor led them in, but Taylor hung back, letting Mrs. Hayes go to Trevor alone.
She waited outside, basking in the sun, and thought about the future. Classes started again in two days, and Taylor was renewed and energized. Since she was eight years old, she’d spent every day hiding from the dark, walking under streetlights, and being afraid of venturing around a corner. Now that feeling was behind her, and she was sure of herself. She could do or be anything.
As scared as she’d been, Taylor knew that heading to Red Creek a week ago had been her destiny, the single best decision she’d ever made.
_______________
Paul knelt by Stevie’s side as his son slept soundly. The kid was so resilient. His dad had attacked them a few days before, and he understood so quickly that it hadn’t been Paul. Terri had decided he was old enough to know the entire truth, and he’d sat there in the hospital the next day, listening eagerly as they shed light about Red Creek, the shadow, and the Smiths.
He’d hugged Paul fiercely and told him he didn’t blame him at all. Paul leaned over now, kissed Stevie on the head, and softly closed the door. He peered in on Terri, who was also sleeping, and made his way to the office at the end of the hall. His laptop was open, and he relaxed into the plush leather chair, leaning back with his fingers intertwined behind his head.
His shoulder ached, but the bullet had exited cleanly. The one in his thigh was worse, but they’d managed to remove it easily and had patched him up, almost as good as new. He’d been a witness to the terrible creature’s essence; he understood its motivation and drive, and Paul was glad for it. He used that energy to push into his latest book, knowing that his success hadn’t been caused by the Anbieter. The Provider. It had come from himself.
No matter what the family curse, or bond, or deal was, Paul Alenn had made it in the business because of hard work, not the Smiths, and he’d be damned if that sickly creature hiding underground in the orchard had anything to do with it.
The document was open, and his fingers found the keyboard, typing fluidly and effortlessly as he continued writing his book. It was going to be unlike anything he’d ever written before, and Paul couldn’t wait to share the story with the world.
The End
About the Author
Nathan Hystad writes science fiction, horror, and thriller novels.
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Gone Girl meets X-files in this Sci-Fi Thriller
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This is her story.
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