Temporal Locum

by Wendie Nordgren

  Tearing the shoes from her feet, she held them with the heels pointed outward like ineffective weapons. The terrain would wreck her unprotected feet, but it wouldn’t matter if the animal caught her. Getting onto her knees, she managed to stand. She took off running as fast as she could and made it a few feet before the ground gave way beneath her.

  Bym fell several feet before her clothing caught on a tree root and jerked her to a bobbing halt. She dangled helplessly for a few moments, struggling to free herself before dropping her shoes to the ground below and ripping her dress free with her hands. The ground had only been a few feet away, but the rocks, leaves, and fallen branches bit into her feet when she landed and brought her down to hunch over herself. Biting her lip to keep herself from crying out, she held her breath and listened. Curling over herself, she drew the hood of her cloak over her head and tried to make herself as small as possible. Through the hole down which she’d fallen, the moonlight was barely discernable. Easing herself farther into the darkness, she froze when her foot brushed against something. Squinting down, she forced herself not to scream her head off when she discovered a rat’s carcass. She shoved an edge of her cloak into her mouth to keep herself quiet and moved away, shivering with both the cold and revulsion.

  Silently, she whispered to herself, “Get it together. Otherwise, someone might one day fall down here and brush a foot against what’s left of you.”

  The animalistic sounds were getting closer. However, where before there had been but one cry, now there were several. A pack of beasts was after her. Feeling around in the darkness, her hands met with unyielding stone. They were roughly hewn blocks, and they led away into a tunnel devoid of light, but with no way of climbing back up or any desire to do so, it was her only option other than lying down by the rat. Her fear of the howling creatures above drove her forward. Bending down, she spared a moment to put on her worthless shoes. At least, they would provide her with some protection from whatever vile excrement and decay might be littering the tunnel’s floor. While she was hunched over and struggling with her shoes, she found a fairly good-sized stick, and although it was damp and slimy, she decided to use it like one of the white sticks used by the visually impaired. In effect, the dark tunnel would make her blind.

  As quietly as possible, she moved forward while the terrifying sounds above grew closer. The passageway was narrow. Holding her arms out to either side, she could touch the stones if she shifted slightly. She almost abandoned the slimy stick in favor of gingerly making her way thusly, but an insect scampering across her hand had her abandoning the idea. Using the stick, she made her way forward. Pointlessly, she kept her eyes opened wide, hoping for some indication of an exit. After what felt like a mile to her deprived senses, her stick hit stone. Lifting it, she tapped and found more and more stone as high as she went.

  “No, no, no.”

  Anxiety made her empty stomach churn. Tapping around with her stick, she deduced that part of the tunnel had collapsed.

  Snick. Snick. Awww ooo! Rawrgh!

  The creatures, whatever they were, had followed her scent down into the hole. She couldn’t tell how far behind they were. However, wherever they were, they had her trapped in a narrow tunnel with nowhere to go. Panicked, she felt along the edges of the fallen stones.

  “Oh, God. Please. Please. Yes.”

  Her breath came in fast gasps as her hands found a small gap near the top corner of the tunnel. Sharp stone edges poked her knees and every other part of her anatomy as she scrambled and clawed her way up the pile of broken stones. In the distance, a chorus of cries like demons from hell echoed off the tunnel walls. The leaders, eager for their prize, tore at each other, each wanting to be first. She could hear the snapping of their teeth and their claws scraping against stone, like nails against a chalkboard, as they ran. They’d tear out her stomach and feast upon her entrails if they caught her. She’d die while watching herself being eaten alive.

  Sobbing in fear, Bym made it to the top and felt the tunnel’s jagged, broken ceiling digging into her back. She shoved against a few of the rocks topping the pile and heard them fall down the other side. She made a hole large enough for her head and shoulders to get through. Trying to squeeze herself through it, she pushed at the rocks, bracing her hands against jagged, cutting stones while struggling to earn her freedom. Her hips became stuck, but her terror motivated her, and she ignored the pain of stones grinding against her pelvic bones.

  Unfortunately, hunger motivated the creatures that were on her scent. Bym screamed as hot fire sliced through her thigh just as she propelled herself through the small opening and tumbled down the cave-in’s rockslide. Bashing her head against a large stone, another bit into her shoulder while the rest of her became entangled in her cape. On the other side of the rocky avalanche, the creatures had gone wild. Each one tried to get near the rocks, but the tunnel wasn’t wide enough. To her ears, they sounded as if they’d gone feral, attacking each other to get to her. Bym hoped their fighting would give her time to get away.

  Having lost her stick on the other side, she crawled on her hands and knees away from the rocks and to stable ground. Her sobs and the sounds her dress made as it ripped and tore were all but drowned out by what sounded like a pack of hyenas fighting to the death. Blindly, Bym got to her feet and ran. The back of her right thigh burned like lava and turned her run into more of a rolling, limping gait. Behind her, the beasts sounded as though they took turns ramming into or clawing at the rocks. They’d kill her if they caught her. She had to get away or hide. Her next step had cold water rushing over her toes. It seeped between her foot and the sole of her shoe. The ground beneath her heels felt slippery with algae. She feared what might be ahead but knew going back wasn’t an option. With nothing to lose, she moved forward as quickly as she dared.

  The water grew deeper the farther she went. Now, it was up to her ankles. Leaves collected on the water’s surface until they eventually rotted and drifted down to their resting place, becoming additions to the slippery sediment beneath her. Bym’s foot slid out from beneath her. She splashed down to her knees, managing to catch herself on her torn hands. The fetid water burned her myriad scratches, cuts, and scrapes, but none of those abrasions hurt as much as those on the back of her thigh. She clenched her eyes against it. The pain was an entity, stealing her thoughts and focusing them on agony. Added to her pain was the weight of her soaked clothing. It was all too much, but she refused to give up. Her cloak was a twenty-pound weight of saturated velvet, but she dared not to remove it as it was her only protection against the elements and the claws seeking to shred her.

  Forcing herself to her feet, Bym kept moving. Perhaps, the water would confuse the beasts if they made it around the blocked tunnel. The water was now up to her ass, and the pain in her thigh had her clenching her teeth. Squinting into the darkness, she gave a soft, choked sob of relief at the sight of a faint hint of light up ahead. Swinging her arms out, she forced her legs to move her forward against the resistance of the water. She was breathing heavily, and the cold water was certainly turning her blue, but at least it was numbing her pain.

  Far above and through overhanging branches, the moonlight reached down to her, like the outstretched hand of a rescuer to a drowning victim. She lifted her face to it and closed her eyes in thankfulness. The moon’s touch was a caress. Something bumped into her stomach. Fearing it was a dead animal, she jumped back, creating a disturbance in the water as she did. To her surprise, what she had feared was a bucket hanging down from a rope.

  “It’s a well. I’m in a well.”

  Exploring with her hands, she found the rope. Then, she found its other half hanging down with a weight tied to its end. Giving it an experimental tug, she found it could pull the bucket up. Wasting no time, she crammed her feet into the bucket, grabbed the counterweight rope, and slowly pulled, hand over hand. The water dripping from her clothing as she rose sounded like a faucet filling a tub. Groaning and straining, she kept a deat
h grip on the rope and kept her eyes on the light above.

  “Only about eight more feet to go. You can do this. You can do this.”

  Snarls and animalistic screams echoed off the water. They were figuring out how to get around the rocks. The knowledge renewed her determination to survive. Numb as she was from the cold, the skin ripping from her palms wasn’t as painful as it could have been.

  “Just a little farther.”

  Her head cleared the stone lip of the well, but she kept her death grip on the rope until after she had her stomach resting on the hard rock and she’d thrown her leg over the side. She could hear a few creatures down below. She pulled the bucket and counterweight from the well and let them thump to the hard, packed dirt beside her. She wanted to rest, to lie down and give into her pain, exhaustion, and fear. However, she didn’t have time for indulgences at the moment. She’d do it later. If there was a well, wouldn’t there be people?

  Bym scanned the forest and saw nothing but trees. If people had once lived here, it had been long ago. Something on the ground caught her attention. It was overgrown but not completely covered. The path was narrow and difficult to see in the dark. It looked like what a dog might do to the grass after months of running around in the same yard. It wasn’t much of an indication of civilization, but she would take it.

  She tried to run. Her reality was a fast-paced, limping walk. She practically had to drag her right leg behind herself. That too was something about which she’d later have to worry. Bym feared the chattering of her teeth would give her away if the animals were able to climb the well and get out. Forcing those thoughts aside, she kept her pace, pathetic though it was. The forest seemed to close in behind her. The path took her away from the well and hid her from view, but it wouldn’t hide her scent. A scent…. She sniffed at the air and smelled smoke. Smoke meant there would be a fire, people, and safety.

  Hurrying as fast as she could, she was drawn in the direction of the smoke as it curled up above the tall trees. Her soles slipped against her shoes with each step. Her ruined dress clung to her cold skin, and her cloak still dripped behind her, making her trail appear like that of a slug. Through branches and leaves, she caught her first sight of orange flames and smelled the scent of burning wood on the wind. The path led her to the forest’s edge, and there her hopes burned to ash.

  A structure was on fire. She saw no one. She heard no firetrucks. Was it some abandoned and forgotten place, too remote to be noticed? Regardless, she was freezing. If she didn’t get warm, hypothermia would kill her if the animals didn’t. It was dark, but she judged the burning structure was a city block away. Bym forced her legs to keep moving. When her will failed her, her body’s need for warmth drew her forward. She could tell it had been a log cabin. However, now, its roof was caved in, and flames fully engulfed it. She collapsed several feet away. The intense heat chased the numbness from her extremities. Her eyelids grew heavy, but the plaintive howls she heard in the distance forced her eyes wide.

  After staring for so long into the flames, it was difficult for her to see, but she searched the darkness, hoping to see lights and civilization, a car, something. A large dark shape was behind and to the right of the burning cabin. Unable to regain her feet, she crawled across the grass to it. Raising her chin, she saw it was an old wooden barn. Its doors were open. Bits of hay littered the ground beneath her and stuck to her torn hands and wet clothing. The faint smell of manure reached her nose.

  Hesitantly, she peeked inside and found the barn to be empty. Pulling herself up with assistance from one of the doors, she stood, fumbled the doors closed, and dropped a heavy beam of wood down into the slots attached to them, securing herself inside. Seeing an open door at the back of the barn, she dragged herself past empty horse stalls and secured it. Would it be enough? Would she be safe? She scanned the dark barn for openings. It was then when she noticed the buckets of water. Not caring if they’d been intended for animals, she gulped water down her dry throat. Once her thirst was satiated, she unfastened her ruined, sopping wet cloak and let it fall. Her shoes were next. Their removal was the closest thing to heaven she could remember feeling, even if she was shivering with cold.

  Taking account of her surroundings, she found a small, dark room near the last stall. She assumed it was a tack room or something like that but didn’t have any farming knowledge on which to rely. Limping inside, she began to search and found canisters of dried meat, fruit, and nuts. Ravenous, Bym clutched the cannister of dried apple slices while she ate. After quenching her thirst once more, she searched through the contents of a wooden chest and found a man’s change of clothes and a jar of medicinal-smelling salve. She didn’t find a phone or a radio. Wherever she was, it was remote.

  Removing her tattered dress, she washed as best she could with a bucket of water in one of the horse stalls. Equestrian slobber had to be more sanitary than whatever she’d been trudging through. She smeared the salve into the wounds on her thigh, claw marks. Then, she dressed in her borrowed clothes. The baggy pants laced in the front. She cinched them as tightly as she could. They rode low on her waist, held up by scraped hip bones. The rough shirt had long sleeves, and the woolen socks came up to her knees and warmed her more than anything else but the fire had.

  Spying a wooden ladder and a loft, she put all of the food in a horse’s empty feed bag, looped it over her head, and forced her screaming muscles to climb. If the pack of wild animals were to break inside of the barn, she didn’t want to be caught on the ground. It would be safer higher up. The loft was full of clean dry hay. Dragging her exhausted body up, she collapsed onto a pile of it. There, under the loft doors, which looked like an open rectangular window, she fell into a stupor. The wind brought the smell of smoke and burning wood to her nose as she sank deeper into the straw.

  Chapter Four

  Noises intruded upon her sleep. The sounds weren’t those of an old creaky barn or the timbers of a burning cabin cracking and falling with soft whooshes to the bed of ashes beneath them. No, these were sounds which she’d hoped to only ever again hear in her nightmares. It was still dark, but those sounds were unmistakable and had her heart racing with fear. She’d curled up on her side in her sleep. Now, she inched closer to the loft door. Camouflaged by hay, she peered out.

  Not far from the dwindling flames, several beasts snarled and tore at some prone creature, stiff with death. One of them tore off a chunk of flesh and darted away to eat it, allowing Bym to see. The dying flames illuminated the form of a man, and he’d been killed by a spear which still protruded from his torso. The long shaft swayed with each bite the creatures ripped from him. Bym shoved her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Another beast quickly took the place of the one who’d scampered off. She closed her eyes against the grizzly scene. They’d tracked her here but found another human upon whom to feast. But what were they? Were they a pack of wolves? With what was she dealing? She had to know.

  Horrified, she strained to see by the light of the dying embers. A creature ripped one of the dead man’s arms free and turned with it in its maw. Rising on its hind legs, it turned and walked toward the dying fire. Lifting the severed arm with clawed hands to its elongated jaw, it ripped a bloody bite free and chewed. Blood dripped down its chin and hissed when it hit an ember. Turning slightly from the light, half of its features were illuminated while the other half were bathed in shadow. It had a wrinkled, prominent forehead, large pointed ears, a snub nose, and human-looking eyes. Dirty hair covered its head, back, arms, and legs, but its torso was leathery. Sniffing the air, the monster began turning its head toward her.

  Bym dropped back down into the hay and froze. She remained utterly still, listening to the sounds of ripping flesh and mastication, too terrified to move a muscle. Monsters weren’t real. Were they? Things like that didn’t exist except in horror movies. At least, they weren’t supposed to, but she’d heard them. She’d felt their claws tearing through her skin and drawing her blood. She’d just seen th
em with her own eyes. They were real. She needed help. She needed a sheriff, a game warden, or someone, but she was alone, and no one knew where she was.

  Eventually, dawn began to break. With its coming, the monsters took what was left of the poor dead man and tore off across the farm and into the forest. Bym stayed where she was, shaking with fear, until thirst drove her down the ladder. Drinking deeply from a pail, she choked and coughed as some went down the wrong way. Then, she braced her hands against a stall door and struggled for understanding. What were those things? Fumbling with her pants, she went into a stall and squatted in a corner to relieve her miserable bladder in the hay.

  Hee-haw. Hee-haw.

  The sudden sound in the still quiet of morning had Bym practically jumping out of her skin. Quickly, she laced her pants and tiptoed to the area from which she’d heard the sounds. Grabbing a pitchfork, Bym peeked through a wooden slat and saw a donkey. A donkey? Cautiously, she opened the back-barn door. The animal wandered inside as if it owned the place.

  The big grey and black animal snorted at her, forcing her to step aside to give it room. It had a white nose and white rings around its eyes. It clomped along and gave her a good view of its tail as it meandered into a stall and started munching on whatever was in its feed bag.

  Bym looked through the open door, scanning for danger. She didn’t see anyone or anything, but she made up her mind to leave. She might be safe for now but feared the monsters would return with the night. There had to be a road or a town somewhere.

  In the barn, the morning light showed her a dirty old pair of boots which she slipped onto her woolen-covered feet. They were too big, and she felt like a little girl playing dress-up. However, they would protect her feet from additional blisters, cuts, and bruises.

  In a sweet, placating tone, Bym said, “Here, donkey. Come to Bym. We need to get the fuck out of here. Come here.” She made kissing sounds at it.