***
Jaz
I stood back, halfway from the top of the stair to her room. Somehow, I felt like I was intruding. Weird, when you consider we’d lived as a couple for the past few weeks. But this was her place, and, more than that, it was her history.
As she opened the door and I caught my first glance of the interior of her room, my eyebrow twitched upward. I don’t know what I’d expected – maybe some fluffy pink pillows, and about a thousand teddy bears – but this took me by surprise. From my vantage, I could see neutral colors, browns and forest greens, each shade complementing the other.
I watched Jennifer take a tentative step inside, almost like she were stepping back in time. Perhaps that’s exactly what she was doing. She stood in the center of the room and slowly turned full circle, taking in every detail as if it were the first time she’d seen it.
I wanted to go to her, but I didn’t want to interrupt. This was clearly a deeply personal moment, and I saw fresh tears streak her face as she turned to me.
My heart constricted. She was hurting, but I still couldn’t go to her. I felt like the stereotypical vampire in a corny 50s B-movie, who couldn’t enter a house until he was invited.
Then she reached out to me, and it were as if a spell had been lifted. She was in my arms in a heartbeat, her head cradled against my chest. I stepped us into the room, now that I could see it properly, and, by habit, gently kicked the door closed. There was a large bay window, surrounded by muted shades of green, as were the other two walls. The wall behind me – the wall holding the door – was not.
I gaped when I turned to take it in. It was one of the most magnificent sights I’d ever seen. It was a forest, but to call it that would be to compare a boating pond you might see in any large city to the ocean in the middle of a raging storm.
The trees were huge, redwoods or sequoias, or something similar…but there was something other-worldly about them, and they seemed to glow with an inner light, its intensity surpassing the sunlight spearing through the dense canopy.
They surrounded a clearing, and I swallowed as I took in what lay curled around a small mound in the middle of the clearing.
A beautiful, golden dragon lay slumbering. “Golden” didn't do it justice. Each scale shimmered in a metallic gold light that also seemed to reflect a rainbow of colors beneath. It had the effect of a huge, magnificent mural made of tiny, stamp-sized images. It was alive with color, light, and shadow. Even as I watched, it were as if the dragon’s eyelids twitched. It had to be my imagination, but I was eerily certain the dragon was studying me, as much as I was studying it.
I released Jennifer and walked over to stroke my fingers softly over the painting…for that’s what it was. I felt the brush strokes, saw the way the shades and tones had been woven together…layered… to create this wonder. I marveled. This piece belonged in a museum, long before the world had gone to shit.
“You painted this?” My voice rasped.
Jennifer crossed to stand beside me, and there was a note of pride in her voice, which she tried to downplay. “Yeah. What can I say? I have a thing for dragons.”
Only then did I see them. On almost every surface of her bedroom furniture were tiny, intricately carved wooden dragons, some painted in bright colors which glimmered in the sunlight coming through the window, some still in their virgin state, and a few lacquered to a natural gleam.
“You’re not kidding,” I breathed. I was, frankly, stunned at the amazing talent Jennifer possessed. “Why…why didn’t you mention any of this before? Jesus, Jennifer, these are…they’re…”
Words failed me, and when I looked at Jennifer, her expression was utterly unreadable; something I’d never seen before.
Jennifer crossed to a closet and threw the doors wide. The inside was a riot of colors, and I saw brushes and pots of paint of various sizes. Paint stained every surface, but it didn’t look the least bit untidy; it was organized, beautiful chaos.
Jennifer opened a drawer and retrieved a small box, maybe a foot square and an inch or two deep. It was made of cherry wood, and was polished to a deep luster. Her lips twitched up into a slightly guilty smile. “This is one of the reasons I wanted to come back here.” She unfastened the brass clasps and opened it. “My dad gave me this when I won a painting contest in third grade.”
It was an art set. Inside the box were a set of brushes, a dozen or so tubes of paint, some colored chalk, and a watercolor palette. It had clearly been used and the supplies replenished many times over. The tubes were all half empty, the brush handles color-stained, and the palette had been cleaned so many times, some of the colors permanently stained the non-porous ceramic color wells.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
Jennifer looked at me, her face still that bizarre non-expression.
“Why?” she asked. “Why does it matter, Jaz? It’s art. Art doesn’t matter anymore, because there’s no one left to appreciate it. This kit means nothing.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, putting into my voice the passion and conviction she needed to hear. I indicated the wall. “You created that, Princess. Art matters, Jenn, now more than ever. If that little kit helped you create that wall, it is the most important thing in the world.”
Jennifer smiled and the tension drained from her face, replaced with amusement. “I might have gone through a thousand of these little paint kits to create that brute. No, I used this to paint the beast.” She tapped her foot against a large crate, similar to a pro mechanic’s tool box, only wooden instead of metal.
I drew her to me and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m glad you’re bringing the box your dad got you.”
She smiled up at me, and my heart skipped a beat. “You have your watch, now I have my paints. We’re even.”
I chose that moment to look at my watch. 11:15a.m. “Hon, we need to get somewhere to sleep, and...” I didn’t get to finish the sentence as she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me, hard. Looks like we’re gonna have a little pit-stop, I thought, with an inner grimace that lasted less than a second.
With one hand, I managed to activate the alarm to wake us up at 4:30p.m. – more than enough time to find the nearest underground shelter – while my other hand concentrated on the buttons of Jennifer’s blouse.
Oh God, if you are up there, thank you for bringing us together. Any other thoughts of religion were banished by our actions, although I’m pretty sure the Lord’s name was used in vain several times that afternoon.
***
My mind clung to the dream I’d been having.
I was home in the four-bedroom Cape Cod in Eureka, South Dakota. It was a bright summer day and Sherri and I were in the back yard playing with Tommy. He was three and was running around with a net, trying to catch a butterfly. Tray was joining in with the chase, her happy yips adding to the homeiness of the scene. Sherri and I held hands, watching and laughing at their antics. I’d never been happier.
Suddenly, the blue sky clouded over and the garden and its inhabitants were gone. I was inside the lodge, but this time, Tommy was with me. I had just enough time to see him dart out the door before the rotten stench of death assaulted my nostrils, my heart racing as I took off in pursuit of my son.
I reached the front door and grabbed my shotgun, running out onto the porch.
The sight sent a shock up my spine. All around, the trees were disappearing into the ground with a squelching sound, like a child slurping spaghetti. The air smelled of death, and the lake was now laid out before me, soft waves lapping at the bottom step of the lodge.
What? How come the lake was at the back of the house? I dismissed the thought. It was a dream, wasn’t it? Silver stars seemed to float on the surface of the water, glimmering in the full moon, but I realized with a sickening certainty they weren’t stars at all, but dead fish.
The bastards had killed my fish!
Within the dream, this felt like a personal violation.
A shadow crossed the moon t
o fall over me and I looked up to see the massive outline of the same Treater that had killed Ted, only this time it held a small, struggling form in its claws. I recoiled, as I saw the vicious, razor-sharp talon poking through Tommy’s rib-cage. Tray was here now as well, and she was going wild, barking more furiously and aggressively than ever before. The Treater had her boy. How dare he!
The beast raised my son up to a maw lined with layer upon layer of shredding teeth. I couldn’t watch as it took Tommy's head in its massive jaws and crunched down. I heard the sound clearly as bone and sinew were crunched apart and I dropped to my knees, screaming my grief to the universe.
Tray’s barking continued, even as the Treater reached those wicked talons toward me. Even as Tommy’s ruined body hit a tree and slid down into the water of the lake, the barking kept going; urgent and insistent.
***
I bolted upright in the bed, throwing the sweat-soaked sheets off. Fuck!
“Jennifer.” I shook her much less gently than normal, making sure she awoke quickly.
“Hmm?” she asked drowsily.
Fuck!
The room was dark…too dark, I realized, and Tray was going wild in the cab of the truck outside. I scrabbled through the half dozen dragon carvings on the table to retrieve my phone and hit the power button. Nothing. It was completely dead. The fuck? I’d fully charged it on the drive down.
Then I looked at my watch and my heart dropped into my stomach. 5:40p.m. The sun would set around 6:00 and full dark would hit around 6:30.
“Jennifer, we need to go. Now!” I grabbed my pants and pulled them on as Jennifer sat up, bewildered.
She sat still for an agonizing moment, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, then I watched the blood drain from her face. “Oh shit!” She was on her feet in an instant, starting to dress.
By now I had my pants and boots on. It would do. “Jennifer, we don't have time, honey. Just grab your clothes and run!”
Her eyes were wide with terror, but I was grateful when she didn’t hesitate. She had managed her panties and her shirt, even though the buttons weren’t lined up with the holes. She grabbed the pile of clothes at her feet and followed me at a run down the stairs and out the door.
I had my Glock out, for all the good it would do. I dragged Jennifer into a crouch behind her mom’s Civic and peeked around to take in the street. The shadows were lengthening by the second, and as I looked to the western horizon, I figured we had maybe five minutes before the sun was gone.
My pulse raced as I pulled Jennifer’s compliant body to her feet. She was clearly terrified, and I didn’t blame her. She hadn’t seen one of these things, and I’d always deflected her questions about their appearance, but now I realized she had nothing but her worst thoughts and nightmares to base them on. To be honest, she probably wouldn’t be far off.
As we ran to the cab of the truck, I fished in my jeans pocket for the keys and hit the unlock button. Nothing happened; no flash of the blinkers or warble as the alarm system welcomed us. I slammed to a stop against the door and wrenched the handle. Shit! It was locked. What the fuck was going on here?
“We don’t have time for this shit,” I muttered as I Bo Duked into the bed of the truck. Tray jumped up at the back window, her tail wagging rapidly in excitement. “Jennifer, see if you can get Tray to come to you, please.”
Jennifer stood still, and I could see her shaking while she hugged herself, her arms grasped tightly around her body.
“Jennifer, now!” My command voice did the trick again, and in a moment Tray had jumped away from the back window to greet a kissy-facing Jennifer at the passenger side. I smashed the rear window with the butt of the Glock and wiggled my right shoulder through the narrow opening, wincing as the glass sliced into my back. Fingers reaching desperately, I pulled the handle to open the rear door. Jennifer had already moved to the door when she saw what I was doing and managed to get inside while preventing Tray from escaping. I vaulted back over the side of the truck and was behind the wheel as soon as Jennifer popped the driver’s door.
Jennifer jumped into the passenger seat but then cried out, her eyes wider than ever. I followed her gaze and felt a shot of adrenaline surge through my body. In the murky shadows pooling and enlarging by the second, shapes moved…over a dozen of them that I could make out. Fuck!
I jammed the keys into the ignition. We had only a couple of minutes, three tops, before the thin rivers of sunlight keeping the Treaters at bay were gone.
I turned the key. Nothing happened. Not even a click. We were so screwed! My mind raced. What could we do? Run back to the house and make a stand? Yeah, right. Look how well that had worked out for the other guys. Shit, shit, shit! Was this it? After all we’d been through, was it all about to end?
Jennifer’s soft sobs made my heart break. I had promised to protect her and Tray. I’d betrayed them. Then as I looked out the window past Jennifer, my heart gave a feeble jolt of hope.
“Jennifer,” I said, quietly, as if to say anything out loud would hasten our doom. “Hang onto Tray. I need to open the door.”
“What? Are you crazy?” Her words were high-pitched and panicked, but she grasped Tray’s collar and held the struggling dog tight to her breast.
I released the parking brake and slid the truck into neutral before opening the door. A small part of me felt a wave of vulnerability flow over me, even though my common sense assured me a car window made no difference to a Treater and I was just as dead outside the vehicle as in. I stepped onto the asphalt and braced my feet on the ground as I grabbed the steering wheel, then dug in with my legs and my back…my entire will, and pushed as hard as I could. The pickup moved about two inches, then fell back on its wheels. Mother-fucker! Just had to have the F-250, didn’t I? Couldn’t go with the 150?
I let out a scream-grunt worthy of Monica Seles as I tried again, my muscles bunching and straining. This time, the monster moved a whole six inches before my strength gave out.
The Treaters seemed to sense their imminent feast as they began to scream and cackle with glee, inching forward into the shadows as the sun receded. Tray was going crazy, and Jennifer struggled to hold her.
Time slowed as I realized I was faced with an impossible choice. My eyes met Jennifer’s and we seemed to link minds as she figured out what I was trying to do. I glanced meaningfully at the dog and her mouth slackened as she shook her head vehemently in denial. What was wrong with her? She heard the snarls of the monsters lurking in the shadows, ready to tear us apart and eat what was left over.
“We can’t,” she whispered. “We can’t let them have her.”
My heart dropped like a stone. “We have no choice. I can’t move the truck by myself, and you can’t help me and keep hold of Tray at the same time.” I held up my Glock. I wasn’t going to let them have her.
Jennifer gasped and almost let go of Tray. I watched her expression shift from rage at me, to grief over what had to be done, to defiant acceptance in a few short flashes.
I climbed back into the car. “Jennifer, I’m sorry, honey, but we have no time. We have to do this, now.”
Tray had settled a little since I was back inside and sat looking up at me, her tail wagging happily and her tongue lolling out as she seemed to smile. Shit! I needed more time to prepare for this, to say a proper goodbye, to tell her she was a good dog…but time was something we didn’t have. I lifted her and climbed into the back, knowing we would have to get a new vehicle if we survived this. I didn’t want Jennifer to have to watch. I didn’t want to watch. I yanked my puffy jacket from the back seat and held a squirming Tray in position beneath it. I positioned the shot and put my finger on the trigger. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces as I started to squeeze.
“Stop!” Jennifer screamed.
I closed my eyes. We didn’t have time for this shit. I opened my eyes to watch Jennifer, glaring daggers at me, ripping the slim leather belt away from the jeans she still carried. She grabbed the panicked Tray before
she could escape, looping the belt under her collar, and through the bars of the head rest. It was tight, but Tray was now tethered.
I blinked. “Jennifer, you're a fucking genius.” I immediately returned to my position outside the cab, tears of gratitude stinging my eyes. There would be time to thank Jennifer later, I prayed. Please, God, let there be time later.
Jennifer was already wedging her shoulder against the body of the vehicle, and she refused to meet my eyes as we began to push. The fear, the adrenaline…and, hell, I didn’t need a crystal ball to know she was pissed. Jennifer could have moved the truck herself, easy.
Slowly, so slowly, the pickup inched forward, and as I turned the steering wheel, the front of the vehicle centered on the gentle downward slope of the cul-de-sac Jennifer’s house sat in. I straightened the wheel up as the truck began to gain momentum. I shouted for Jennifer to jump in, and was glad when I heard her close the door. I pushed for another few seconds before jumping in myself.
This was it. If this didn’t work, the next three bullets had homes waiting for them. I pushed in the clutch and shifted into second gear, waiting as long as I could. I’d only get one shot at this. The street wasn’t long enough for a second attempt, and the surrounding area was too flat. I had hit about twenty miles per hour when I popped the clutch. For a terrifying moment, the engine shuddered and did nothing, and the truck began to slow. We were dead. Then, with a muted growl the engine sprang to life. The dashboard illuminated as the alternator kicked in, driven by the now-live engine.
As the last of the sunlight disappeared over the western horizon, I floored the accelerator. The pickup surged forward in response, but as I caught the shapes emerging from the now unbroken shadows, I wondered if we’d just turned a quick kill into a short, agonizing game for them.
***
Jennifer
The acceleration pushed me into my seat. I glanced across at the speedometer. Twenty…thirty…forty. The engine in this truck was a beast, but as Jaz cursed under his breath, I realized it might not be enough. I caught him glancing at the rearview mirror and decided to lean forward so I could catch a glance from the large door mirror. I wished I hadn’t.
Treaters: Book One of the Divine Conflict. Page 15
