And the Creek Don't Rise

by R. M. Gilmore

  A damn miracle

  Other than the soul-crushing, heart-ripping destruction left behind after ruthlessly murdering someone I loved and four strangers, I felt fine. Doc said I had a fever, sent me for X-rays, sucked my blood. Which I was happy hadn’t turned to toxic sludge.

  I’d cried for hours, soul pouring right through my eyes, leaving nothing but an empty hole. I wasn’t rotting from the inside out anymore. Or maybe I was; I just couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel anything.

  Blistering afternoon sun glared into the windows. Wincing away from the light, a low groan rumbled in my chest. I wanted to get up and close the blinds, but machines and tubes plugged into my skin kept me put. Whatever they’d been pumping me up with for pain had stopped my tremors and the hellacious ache in my head.

  Garret’s voice carried from the hallway. “How could this be?” and “How did she make it?” I knew the answer. And if someone thought hard enough, they’d know the answer too.

  I was no survivor.

  I was the beast.

  Even now that the shock of what happened—what I’d done—had lessened, and I could actually consider the possibilities, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what and how I became what I had. Whatever that was. A beast no matter how you looked at it. The only thing I could figure it was magic. Honest to goodness magic.

  “Hey, darlin’, how you feelin’?” Garret came into the room with a look on his face that I had only seen him have once before, which was when his old dog died.

  “Can I go home?” I asked. My voice, scratchy and deep, didn’t sound like mine.

  “Not yet.” He ran a hand over my head. “Doc says you’re a miracle, a damn miracle.” I gulped back the gaping hole I imagined on my throat. “Logan County Sheriff can’t figure how you didn’t get yourself in that mess right along with Rusty and the rest. They don’t know who the ladies are still. Trying to get to the bottom of that,” he mumbled, his face drooped into a frown.

  I knew he was thinking about Rusty. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him. The picture of his bloody face popped into my head.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry,” I sobbed, head in my hands. Emotions flooded in and that soul-shredding feeling settled into my gut.

  “What’re you sorry for? You can’t go up against a bear, Lynn.” They’d assumed and I hadn’t corrected them. “It’s a good thing you didn’t.” He sniffed back tears.

  I fought hard against the urge to tell Garret what really happened. It was a battle I wasn’t willing to lose. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get myself thrown in prison. Or a damn nuthouse. Knowing Havana folk, I’d just as quickly be burnt at the stake. No, I had to keep my mouth shut to save my life.

  Tears came where words couldn’t. Loud and long, I sat in that hospital bed and cried till my face burned from salty tears. Garret stared at me with watery eyes. My sweet brother, nearly as lost as I was.

  Red streaks flashed in my memory, I buried my face into the pillow. Snot and spit and tears and sweat soaked into the stiff cotton.

  “Lynn, it’ll be all right. It will be. You’re alive. We can thank God for that. He was watching out for you last night.” Garret kissed the top of my head and rubbed his hand through my ratty hair over and over again.

  God was nowhere to be found when that woman slashed into my throat. While my bones popped and cracked. When I killed Rusty. Where was God? Not with me, I’ll tell you that much.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I said, muffled against the pillow, pushing my loving brother away from my bedside.

  “Okay. Okay, I’ll go find the doc, see when I can take you on home.” I watched Garret walk away with one half-covered eye. He walked out the door without looking back.

  I was hoping it was Garret come to take me home when I heard hard-soled boots clicking outside the door. It felt like hours since Garret left me crying. Since I’d seen another human face. The constant drip of high-quality painkillers made the wait tolerable. I turned over in the bed to see Hattie in the doorway.

  “Hey, girl,” she said in a whisper.

  A tight grin tugged one side of my mouth and I tried not to cry, again. I knew there would come a point that I would have to atone for what I did. What’d happened to me. Deal with God. Before then, all I could do was cry. I felt weak. Weak for crying and blubbering. I didn’t much like that feeling. But it was better than my soul rotting top down.

  “Hey.” I couldn’t look her in the eye. She’d surely see my sins reflected back at her.

  “Garret asked me come down and pick you up.” I squinted raw eyes. He couldn’t come get me himself? Maybe he’d seen the beast in me. “Said he had to get the house ready for you.”

  “Damn it, Hattie, I ain’t dyin’!” Weakness didn’t last long before anger took over. “Get those nurses in here to unplug all this mess and I’ll walk outta here myself. What’s Garret thinkin’? Sendin’ you all the way down here to fetch me?” I shoved the weakness down deep, sat up in the bed and pushed the nurse button till I thought my thumb would fall off.

  “You’re ’bout to walk home, Carolynn Russell.” Hattie stood with her hands on her hips like my mama.

  I thought then about my mama. Where was she in all this?

  “Where’s Mama?”

  “She ain’t here. Get up so I can get you home. You look like a dog pissed on ya all night.” Always honest Hattie.

  “Well I spent most of it half dead in the woods,” I argued. By the last word guilty vomit burned my tonsils. “How’d the deputy know where to find me, anyhow?” She swallowed and looked away, fussing over the trash on the bedside tray. “Garret called the sheriff when Rusty didn’t show at work this mornin’.” Sniffle. “You didn’t come home last night.” Her boots clicked the floor while she paced, garbage bin in hand. “We just knew you’d finally run off with Rusty Kemp, and we didn’t wanna get in the middle of two kids in love.” Sadness glittered her eyes. “Ahem, we knew you’d probably headed on up to Blue Mountain when you tore off from Maldoon’s, but nobody’d heard from you. Then when Rusty wasn’t at work, Garret just knew ya’ll must’ve gotten yourselves into trouble.”

  Panting breaths sped my heart. I had to tell Hattie. Had to. There was no way in all the heavens I’d be able to keep a secret like that from her. Knowing her like I did, she’d never believe it. They say two can’t keep a secret, and she’d surely tell Garret—the mouth of the south—and he’d lose his ever loving mind.

  “He called the sheriff from work, and then he headed out there to look for himself. I thought he was being a little dramatic calling the law in so soon, but he was right. You’re lucky your brother loves you so.” She nodded up and down like I might not believe her. Like for a second, I might forget how insanely protective Garret Russell could be.

  The nurse finally shuffled in, fake smile plastered on her face. “Looks like you’re goin’ on home. Lemme get those.”

  She smelled like burnt toast and pickles. I was in no mood for niceties and manners. I didn’t need smiles, I needed to be mad. Because if I wasn’t, I’d be sad and that just wouldn’t do. She jerked the tubes out of my skin like a sloppy drunk. When I winced, she snorted at me like I was being dramatic.

  “There. All set,” the chubby little nurse said with another plastic grin.

  I didn’t have a smile for the woman. Not too sure why. I just didn’t like the burnt toast lady. She took one look at my face and hightailed it out of the room.

  Hattie handed me a pair of old rundown shorts and a big T-shirt. I didn’t know where she’d come up with those clothes, but they sure as hell weren’t mine. I pulled on the shorts that were a bit too big. I figured they must’ve been Hattie’s; she was a little plumper in the end section.

  The door opened two milliseconds after a gentle knock. “Miss Russell, how are we feeling?” He flashed a bright, white smile. If he’d have been in a toothpaste ad, th
ey’d’ve sparkled. “Doing any better with some fluids?” Doc was surely no local boy. California or something sounded like. Why a California doctor would come all the way out to Yell County to work at a Podunk hospital like the one in Denville, I didn’t have the slightest.

  “Just wanna go home is all.” I looked around the room for the rest of my stuff and realized I didn’t have anything. “I am free to go, right?” I was starting to lose the gusto I had built up.

  “Of course. I would prefer it if you’d stay the night, just to keep an eye on you. But if you’d like to leave, I see no reason why you can’t go home and rest in your own bed.” He smiled again. I liked his smile, it was real. And he didn’t smell like pickles or toast. I liked that too. “I do have to tell you, you still have a slight fever, just under one hundred degrees. It’s not life threatening, but you should keep an eye on it. We gave you some antibiotics for your abrasions and I’d like you to fill this prescription for more as soon as you leave. You’ll need to take them twice a day for the next week, until they’re gone.”

  “That about it?” I knew I was behaving like a snot, but it felt better than crying and making a fuss.

  “Yes, I suppose it is.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Miss Russell, I don’t know how you did it and I don’t know what kind of believer you are, but I feel God was with you last night. Other than your scratches there on your, um—” He cleared his throat and carried on, “—and a slight redness in your throat, likely from a long bout of crying and screaming, you are in perfect health.” His voice was near angelic, but I wanted to kick him straight in the shin for bringing God into this. “After you fill the prescription, perhaps you should send some thanks to whatever you believe in for keeping you safe when others weren’t so lucky.” Dark eyes watched my face. Like he was gauging my reaction. Like maybe he didn’t believe I’d just gotten lucky.

  That last bit pulled bile up into my mouth. I didn’t know whether I’d cry or slap that handsome doctor. I just stood there and stared at him until he handed me a small piece of paper with some chicken scratch on it and left the room. Still smiling.

  “Well, now that you’ve done run that good-lookin’ doctor off, you ready to go home?” Hattie scolded, brown eyebrows tucked tight at the center.

  I didn’t talk to her after that. Couldn’t. I knew I would only say something, it’d come out. I was being too ugly for it not to. Anger had kept the gut-churning sadness under wraps, but it was making me wild. Unruly. Volatile.

  Hattie and me drove from Danville back to Havana in her rumbly old truck. I spent most of the ride staring out the window watching the sun move across the sky. I didn’t think I’d been in the hospital that long, but it was damn near dusk. The sun was coming up when the deputy found me in the woods crying over Rusty. All damn day in the hospital for a doctor to tell me I had a sore throat and some scratches on my ass. Hell, I could’ve told everyone that for free if I had the right mind to speak up. Not talking was better I figured.

  If I ain’t talking, I ain’t accidentally telling anybody I’m some kind of monster.

  Less talking meant more thinking. And I didn’t want to think about anything. Thinking led to crying and I damn sure didn’t like crying.

  Arguing with ghosts

  Hattie walked me to the door and made sure Garret was there ready for me before leaving in a hurry. She’d wanted more from me than I could give. I’d tell her sorry on a day I wasn’t recovering from second-degree murder. Or would it be manslaughter? I’d slaughtered a man and I didn’t mean to do it. Maybe I could claim insanity. I didn’t know anything about the law but what I watched on Law & Order, and not one of those episodes covered accidental creatures killing under a bright blue moon.

  “I made your bed up, Lynn. I got some pot roast in the cooker on the counter if you’re hungry.” He tried—hard as it was for him to be nurturing. I wasn’t even angry with him anymore for leaving me in the hospital. He was hurting more than he could handle. It rolled off him like heat on the pavement. There wasn’t anything I could do for him. I was hurting enough for the both of us.

  “I’m fine. I just wanna sleep. I need to lay down a bit.” I walked past him, head down, to my bedroom at the end of the hallway and shut the door.

  The second I was alone, my cheeks flushed and my bottom lip shook, but I downright refused to cry again. I swore to myself then that I would not cry over any of it until morning. I would sleep, eat, and then figure out what in the hell I was gonna do with myself.

  I laid back, pulled the covers up over my head, and tried not to think anymore. Garret rustled around in the kitchen. I knew there’d be a mess for me to clean in the morning. He didn’t cook much, which was fine with me because I tended to have more work when he did the cooking than when I did.

  I listened to my brother fumbling around in cabinets and drawers and tried to sleep. My eyes closed, breathing slowed, heart took a second to catch up. Blackness took over.

  I startled awake, limbs frantic, reaching out for anything to stop me from falling. I swallowed hard and flipped the covers off my head. The yellow light outside had turned pale blue, casting shadows over my room.

  My eyes focused on a deep black figure in the corner. I gasped, and choked, and blinked at the thing. My stomach dropped six inches when the shape moved out of the shadow and I could see what it was.

  Blood whooshed in my ears. “How?” was all I could say to the dim shape of Rusty standing across the room from me. His face was clean, chest perfect. All he had on was a smile and a pair of jeans. For a long handful of breaths, he just stood there looking at me. I stared right back.

  My chin quivered and my nose tingled and tears welled up at my lashes. I gulped over and over until I found my voice. “Why—Rusty, I am sorry,” I croaked. “I was a thing, a beast, and I didn’t know—I couldn’t stop.” I shook my head. “Forgive me. Please.” I reached out for him and stopped myself.

  “I know.” His voice sounded like he was talking to me through a tin can on a string. “You gotta go now, Lynnie.”

  “What? I’m not going anywhere,” I argued.

  He ran his hand over messy hair. “Gotta go, Lynn.”

  “Where am I goin’?” I leaned forward onto my knees, sliding off the edge of the bed.

  “Out.” His smile dropped. “You got a long road, darlin’. Don’t leave your soul behind ya’.”

  I reached out for him. “What?” And he disappeared into the darkest shadows. “No! Rusty?” I scurried to the corner, planting my hands on the wall where he’d stood. In a panic, I groped the dark for anything left behind. Salty tears pooled on my lips.

  Bone-crushing pain curled me in half. I called out in agony. The sound of Garret washing up the dishes contending. The one damn time he decided to wash up his mess was the one damn time I needed him to be sitting on his butt drinking a beer in front of the idiot box.

  Electric shocks shot from my head to my toes. I was gonna be sick all over my ugly brown carpet. I looked down to my hands and watched my fingers curl and bend into beastly claws. Back arched like a cat, my ribs cracked and slid under my skin. Muscles ripped and reformed, bending my legs into inhuman shapes. Murky green fur pushed through the pores on my hands and arms. Shocks of pain popped in my ears, long sharp fangs erupted from my gums, swallowing up my human teeth with a sloppy slurp. I wailed and hollered and grunted in pain, but Garret never came for me. Fear desperately wanted his help, but logic said it was his only saving grace.

  Slick, magical goo flung from my shaking coat. I caught the horrifying reflection of myself in the mirror hanging on the backside of my door. If I could have screamed out loud, I’d have broken glass. It—I—covered in a shaggy, dark green coat of fur with upward pointed, tufted ears, was a hulking beast. Not a cat or a dog, but some mystical thing in between. The tail, my tail, a thick, long braid or braids. Only, it was gnarled and snagged like something feral. Razor sharp cl
aws curled from the ends of what used to be my fingers.

  If I’d had human eyes, I’d’ve cried. Blazing high, hot and red, my monstrous eyes glowed, a fire freshly lit. My long mouth opened and out came a screeching howl. A sound I’d heard only one other time in my life.

  Something moved down the hall. My ears perked. I could smell Garret’s aftershave. No. Before I knew it, my strong animal legs carried me across the room. They leapt over the bed, and broke through the only window I had. I could still hear the glass breaking when Garret called out for me.

  “Lynnie! Lynnie!” he hollered out the broken window.

  Strong legs pumped, moving me hard and fast through the woods behind our trailer. I could hear him breathing, his boots—sounding sloppy, untied—shuffling the underbrush chasing after what he must’ve thought was a dog or maybe even a bear. Maybe the beast that’d killed his friend and left his only sister broken.

  Panting huffs puffed from my snout. I scurried into a thick brush, hiding in the shadows. Garret moved through the trees. He was a varied shade of green like everything else. Like the rifle in his hands.

  I knew he was my brother. I knew I loved him. But my animal mind didn’t care. I only cared about hiding. Surviving. I knew he’d kill me in my current state. I had to hide. Hide or die. Or kill.

  “Lynnie, where are you?” he damn near sobbed.

  I wanted to run to him. Comfort him. The beast kept me hidden. I’d kill him before he ever got a shot off. Garret held his long rifle down at his side searching the dark woods for a dark beast. He’d never find me hidden inside my coat of green.

  Inside my monster suit, I didn’t have the same types of thoughts. I didn’t really have thoughts at all. Just feelings in my gut. Like instinct. No thoughts, just knowing.

  I was all alone in my emotionless new world. And I liked it.