Through Glass

by Rebecca Ethington

  Everything was dead, all life had been stripped away to open a wound on a now lonely planet.

  I didn’t know how else to explain it.

  There was no life here, not anymore. The endless stream of perfectly round piles of ash promised me that. I silently stepped around them, careful not to disturb the only reminder that people had once existed; the reminder of what may be in store for me.

  Hundreds of them littered the ground around me; they pockmarked the cracked asphalt of the street and clustered around houses, broken cars, and street signs. Circles of ended life, of forgotten dreams. People that the Ulama had ended, that they had taken away. Just like Cohen.

  I didn’t want to look. I willed myself to look away, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering. I couldn’t stop the fear and anger from mixing together.

  I had gone this way on purpose, turning my back on the black stretch of sky that Cohen had moved into while dutifully keeping away from the skate park where my family had left me forever. I had walked toward downtown in the hope that I would find refugees—others who had found the secret of the light. Deep inside, I hoped that if I walked long enough I would find a sun. Yet seeing this now, I was beginning to wonder if either were a possibility.

  I walked down the street, my body dragging in exhaustion as I stubbornly moved myself forward. Every inch of my body ached from the exertion of walking, from carrying the heavy backpack. It all combined in a dull throb that covered every inch of me. I did my best to ignore it, but I already knew how useless it was.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking or how long it had been since I slept, but I could already tell it was longer than I had become accustomed to. Being trapped in the house, I had slept constantly, waking only to eat and speak to Cohen through the glass. My clock told me when to go to the window, my stomach when to eat and my body to sleep, but out here, I had no way of knowing if I had been awake for days or for hours. I couldn’t tell.

  My eyes darted around me with each step I took, they moved to each shadow the light on my back cast in expectation of a golden claw or the flap of a wing. Even with the light strapped to my back I didn’t feel safe. I knew they were waiting for me just beyond the line of light that surrounded me. I couldn’t keep the shadows from coming alive. A shiver wound its way up my spine as my hands gripped the heavy bed rail so tightly I could feel the skin break open from the pressure. The palm of my hand pulsed and burned, but I didn’t dare let go of it. I didn’t dare loosen my hold.

  It seemed like every footfall was the boom of a cannon in my ears; everything was horribly quiet, so still.

  Dead.

  Just like everyone else, like what the monster who stalked me wished me to be. I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw, my heart hurting as I attempted to will the fear away, as I tried not to feel the pain. I stiffened my grip against the bed rail, picking up my pace as I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

  My feet hit the ground heavily as I stumbled around the graves that littered the ground in my desperation to move away from them. My weight shifted, jostling the pack on my back and I watched in dread as the light on my back flickered and died.

  “No… nononono,” I moaned as I swung the pack around, ripping off the light in desperation.

  The light was the only thing keeping them at bay; the only thing keeping me safe. I shook the light as I hit the exposed batteries in my attempts to get the lights back on. My breathing picking up as I tried again and again to reignite the light.

  The blaze of white light flashed one, twice, before flickering into darkness again. The darkness swallowing me whole.

  The fear of death and dread rippled through me as the sound of the Ulama ricocheted through the air. Every muscle in my body tensed in expectation for what I knew was coming, what my body and mind had been trained to expect at the sound.

  My breath caught in my chest as the screech of warning rent through the air. My muscles tightened and the prickle of danger surged violently up my spine.

  I hit the light hard twice before throwing the useless thing to the side and clenching the rail, bringing it up like a bat; ready for something—anything—to come after me. My eyes scanned the darkness of the sky as I watched, as I waited, as I breathed.

  I lifted my eyes to the dark patch of sky where the sound seemed to be reverberating from. Everything in me caught fire in fear and anger as two dark shapes formed against the dark sky, the screech increasing in my ears as they came toward me. They had waited, just outside the light, for their chance to strike and they had found it. They were coming for me

  I was in control of my death, but not like this. Like this, they were in control of me. This was death.

  I didn’t wait. I ran.

  I held the bar tightly as I ran down the street, my breath coming in strangled puffs as my feet pounded against the pavement. The heavy beat of a drum echoed off the empty houses that surrounded me. I fought the stubborn need to fight them, the anger at what they had done still pulsing through me.

  The screech of the Ulama came again. Louder this time. It called through the air, loud in warning and in anger. In death. The sound of their battle cry chilled me, reminding me how foolish fighting them would be right now.

  “No.” The word hissed through my teeth as I picked up the pace, my weak legs burning and screaming at the exertion. The bones in my back and shoulders rebelled from carrying the heavy backpack and the rail.

  Through that, I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow down. I increased my speed as I turned toward one of the many darkened houses that surrounded me.

  The dark maw of the house, where the door once stood, swallowed me up as I ran into the pit. My feet moved as I cut through the destroyed living room, swinging through the dark kitchen before I immerged in the backyard.

  I pulled the door shut behind me in an attempt to give myself some distance and kept running. My feet took me through the broken gate in their back fence and into the alley.

  The cry of the Ulama cried again, the sound louder. It echoed around the alley I ran through as the creatures followed my every move. I needed to move faster. They were keeping up with me too easily. I looked back once to see the monsters chasing me down, their powerful legs pumping them faster as they overtook me.

  Evasion was my only tactic now. I darted quickly into another backyard, the dead grass scattered with old toddler toys and dark rings of forgotten life. I jumped over them, not wanting to disrupt something so precious, only to launch myself over the wooden fence that surrounded the yard.

  I could have held still, hid in the dog house that sat forgotten amongst the wilted flowers, but they were still too close and would find me too easily. I needed to get ahead of them. I needed to hide. I clenched the rail in my hand tightly, wishing I could turn and fight them. It seemed easier to me, but I knew how that would end.

  The sound of their warning grew and my feet fled from it, taking me into the dirty white house that sat before me. The windows were broken and burned from some battle that had been lost.

  I ran through the charred house, my father’s boots slipping on the ash that lined the floor of the once beautiful home. I ran through the blackened rooms, moving quicker as the sound of the Ulama surrounded me. Their warning was growing as it shifted.

  I burst out of the house and onto the porch just as the change become clear. The creatures weren’t right behind me anymore, but I could still hear their call echo around the empty neighborhood as they hunted me. I was getting close. I just needed to move faster and then I could hide.

  The sound echoed loudly and I could tell they were closer. The call of their kind was a gun shot in my ears and I took off running. I ran down the burned steps of the porch and into the street that stretched endlessly before me. I needed an alley, a yard, some form of maze to drag them into so I could lose them again. However, I saw nothing as I ran other than the closed up houses with the fences locked tight.

  I ran hard as the screech increased, the sounds joining
together as they caught sight of me again. The sound of my death echoed from their mouths as they pursued me, the clicks of their talons rattling the street as they came closer.

  I needed to get away, to hide. I needed to find light. Although how, I wasn’t sure. I ran as the backpack thumped against my back, the weight heavy against my spine.

  The lighter.

  Fire was light. I ran faster, scanning the houses, looking for one I could get into easily; one that I could light on fire.

  The screech of the monsters increased as another scream met the others, this one louder. The sounds cut through me and my body shook as I turned onto another side street, pushing myself farther than I had ever gone. I could feel my joints try to give in, the burn in my lungs begging me to stop. I grunted as I pushed my body, fighting to keep the howl of pain trapped in my chest. Every joint and every muscle continued to beg me to stop, but I couldn’t listen. Listening meant death, listening meant the terror that gripped me won. The sound of the Ulama that ricocheted through my head promised me that.

  The screech of death increased as it bounced through the empty silence that surrounded me. It bounced through my head until it was just another pain to add to all the other aches I was already feeling.

  “No,” I gasped again, the word strained as my body attempted to give in.

  “NO!”

  I ran into the first open door I could find, taking me into an abandoned house with the ornate red door wide open in front of me. I ran through the door and as far back into the house as I could. My legs screamed as I moved; my feet pounding, my body coiled in fear while the scream of my death echoed through the air. I couldn’t run any longer. I could feel my body threatening to collapse at any moment.

  If I wanted to survive, I only had one option now.

  I didn’t stop to think, to look, to plan. I just ran through the house and right into a large dark room, the only one that still had a door.

  I slammed the door behind me, not caring if I made any sound, and fell to my knees. My breath came in sharp spurts as my heart beat wildly through my chest. Everything inside of me prickled in awareness. I could barely make out the call of my death through the door as the sound grew louder as the creatures followed me.

  I didn’t have much time.

  I swung the backpack from my back, my finger fiddling with the zipper before I was able to open it and dump the contents onto the dirty carpet I sat on.

  Clothes, pictures and packets of food came tumbling out before the one thing I was looking for flew out and rolled away from me.

  I lunged for it in my panic, my fingers scrambling through the mess that lingered on the floor of the decimated house until I found it. I wrapped my fingers around the tiny lighter just as the click of talons from somewhere in the house met my ears. The sound was just audible behind the high pitched squeal of the creatures that were intent on ending me. Ice trailed through my veins as I heard the click of the talons inside of the house, my stomach tightening as it threatened to turn itself out. I gasped as I clung to the lighter, the small, orange box cold and awkward in my fingers.

  Click.

  It was coming.

  I needed something to light on fire. I turned on the spot, my hand trailing across the dirty floor as I dragged papers and who knows what else into a pile before me.

  Click.

  The screaming of the monster increased and the fear in my chest tightened as my finger moved over the sharp little wheel of the lighter.

  Click.

  I could hear the thing right on the other side of the door. I could feel the screech vibrate through me as the monster clicked its massive talons against the wood that was now the only thing separating me from it. I glanced up at the door, my breathing erratic as I tried to focus, as I tried to not let the fear take over.

  Over and over my finger flew over the sharp wheel of the lighter, pressing again and again as only bright little sparks erupted from its tip. I fought the urge to scream, to grab the rail and fight the things that were on the other side of the door, but I wouldn’t win, not against two. Light was now my only option.

  Click.

  The click of the creature’s talons on the knob.

  Sparks from the lighter.

  Click.

  The turn of the knob.

  Sparks from the lighter.

  Click.

  The creak of a door.

  I ran my finger over the wheel as I watched the doorknob turn, the heavy wood beginning to swing forward. I had expected this to be the end, the flash of the golden talons to be the last thing I saw. I looked down, my finger moving over the sharp wheel of the lighter one last time only to have a flame erupt from the small tip of the orange box. The tiny flame blazed between my fingers. The light was as bright as the sun in my eyes. The little flame burned my retinas as the long forgotten brightness seeped into my sensitive eyes. The flame was brighter than the dull blue glow of the emergency light had been.

  Creak.

  The door continued to swing. The tiny light was not bright enough to be of any use.

  “No.” My voice was barely audible above the screech of the Ulama that echoed around me. I closed my eyes away from the burn as I lowered the white heat to the pile of tinder. The pile of paper and shards of wood erupted in a bright flash of light that shot through the darkened space.

  I screamed as the light pulsed through me and the bright light burned into my skull. The screech of the Ulama intensified as mine did, its own call loud and painful before it began to fade, before the clicks of its talons moved frantically in the other direction.

  I curled my hands around my head as I listened to them leave. My body folded in on itself as I waited. I didn’t dare move as I anticipated the tension in my heart to slow, for my brain to at least try to accept my safety. It couldn’t. I couldn’t. My ears perked, waiting for the clicks to return, for the scream to sound again.

  I knew they wouldn’t come back with the fire still blazing by my feet. I held onto that thought, letting the fear ebb away as I focused on the fire. I could feel its warmth wash over me, prickling the air that ran against my skin, the heat strange and foreign as it caressed me.

  My eyes opened slowly, the heavy lids blinking furiously as they adjusted to the light that danced over the wall of the room. The light continued to burn into me, the pain of the brightness lessening somewhat, but not enough to look at the fire directly.

  Not yet.

  The papers smoldered and burned, sending glowing embers into the air around me. They floated through the darkness around me like dancing fairy lights, tiny red flames that twinkled and flashed in the dark. I watched the golden burn of the papers as they rose and fell, the light shimmering through the darkness.

  In the back of my mind I knew that letting the embers fly was dangerous, that the house would burn down in a matter of minutes if I didn’t contain the fire, but I didn’t care. I was mesmerized by the glimmering lights that were slowly filling the air around me.

  There was something magical about the way they moved, the way the lights flashed before disappearing into nothing. I wanted to reach out and touch them, I wanted to feel their warmth move into me. It was a stupid idea, foolish and dangerous. I vaguely remembered my brothers chasing the embers when we went camping years ago. They had reached out to them while my mother scolded them not to. My father had laughed, almost hoping they would get burned in order to learn the lesson. My brothers had wanted to touch them then as I did now, but it wasn’t simply that memory that kept my hands by my sides.

  I could still see Cohen’s grandfather stretching out his arm to touch the streamers of black that fell from the sky. The flash of a monster, the wide arch of blood the only thing left of him. Just like with Cohen… no, not with Cohen. They had taken him. I still didn’t understand why he hadn’t turned to ash; why they had taken him. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter anyway. He was still gone. They all were.

  My chest constricted painfully at the thought an
d I brought my hands back into my lap. The magic of the lights left instantly. I was suddenly more than interested in anything except the floating embers that continued to dance through the dark air. I looked away, letting my eyes focus beyond the dancing fire. My heart thumped at the terrifying room the darkness had hidden, what the brightness of the light had now allowed me to see.

  Piles of trash covered the floor, some stacked as high as my waist. The room had once been a bedroom; pieces of dresser and mattress were scattered around like it had been in my parents’ room.

  It wasn’t the contents of the room that had terrified me and sent my heart into an unsteady rhythm. It was what someone had covered the walls with. Letters as tall as my arm were carved into the walls, painted in jagged shapes with dripping paints. They were everywhere. Right in front of me, in what looked like blue paint, six words shone brightly, their warning loud and frightening.

  There is no escaping the Tar

  I looked at it as my hands clenched, everything inside of me tensing. The lines were jagged and desperate. Large blots of ink distorted the letters where whoever had written it had pushed too hard in their panic.

  “The tar…” I spoke the words aloud, my voice a whisper to the nothing that I was surrounded by. I couldn’t understand what these messages where doing here or even how they had gotten here, hidden in the depths of one of a million forgotten houses.

  A shiver moved up my spine as I stared at the words in front of me, the coincidence that I had picked this house haunted me.

  I could only think of one thing that could be referred to as the “tar”. Skin as black as ink, obsidian colored, razor sharp feathers that glistened in the dark. The deep ribbons of black that fell from the sky, the glittering black of the wings of the Ulama. The Ulama.

  The Tar.

  I stared at the words, not wanting to let my mind piece it together completely, not wanting to think of the desperation that had caused this person to write these words. Panicked, terrified words that they thought were true. They couldn’t be true. There had to be a way to escape. There had to be.