by Mintie Das
I get a pang of guilt and fright at saying the last two lines. I never made it to Grant Elementary to check out the witness’s statement. Likewise, the fact that I must still be high on the detectives’ list of suspects scares me out of my mind.
“Which means that you could have been the person to show up at Grant and off me.” Naomi mimes bashing the side of her head that is now smashed in.
I shake my head vehemently. “No, because I was here at my house all night. Dede can alibi me. Even though we have to admit that I could have climbed out the window. But if that—”
“Chill, Violet. I was just ragging on you. Please don’t bore me again with all the reasons why you didn’t kill me.”
I stop midway through what I am saying and frown. Naomi seems incredibly nonchalant, considering what today is for both of us. “Well, can you at least finish going through the trolls?”
We’ve been desperately trying to figure out why she called me in the first place and sent that text but we’re not having much luck.
“I can. But it’s not exactly easy to read that I’m a cum dumpster or a jiz bank over and over,” Naomi says as she scrolls through my tablet. I asked her to go through all the comments posted on her social media after the video came out just to see if something might jog her memory. To my somewhat surprise, she agreed, but I know it’s gotta be difficult to relive all of this in such glaring detail.
“Got it. Sorry to have to rush you but it’s already seven twenty-five,” I say as I look at my cell phone anxiously. I’ve got less than five hours before Naomi’s funeral to find the preta.
I try to do something with my fidgety fingers and pick up a hairbrush. Then I put it back down on my dresser because I’m way too nervous to care about how I look. Plus, I’m a bhoot, so it’s not like anyone who matters can see me.
“OMG! I think I got something here,” Naomi exclaims as she shellacs another coat of pink gloss over her dry, cracked lips.
I look at her excitedly. “From the comments?”
“Remember the other day in the morgue with my mom when you mentioned the affair she had?” Naomi taps her talons on the tablet. “I was weirded out for a second because I forgot that I told you.”
I nod and prompt her to keep on talking.
“This comment here,” Naomi continues. “It was posted on Sunday afternoon and I have a slight memory of thinking you wrote it.”
I bend down to read it. Like mother, like daughter. I’m confused. “I don’t get it.”
“Even now, it just stands out to me because everything else is like brutal but pretty standard. Whore, slut. Someone even called me a jezebel—thanks, Grandpa.” Naomi smirks. “But this feels personal. To call out my mom like this makes me think it’s about the affair.”
I vaguely recall Naomi telling me about her mother’s cheating, but I don’t remember much about the moment other than that it was at her place.
“But you texted me that you were going to kill me.”
“Right, slight exaggeration, but I must have been super-pissed. I mean, I’m pissed now just looking at it. Like I said, it felt so personal, like someone really wanted to hurt me. I probably connected that comment with whoever posted the video. As in, this is the person who really hates me. I can’t be sure because my memory is still pretty shaky but I must have thought you were the one trying to sabotage me.” Naomi looks down.
“I wasn’t. I could never do something like that,” I say quietly.
Naomi nods. “I know that now.”
We stand together with this pained silence between us for a couple of seconds before Naomi breaks it.
“Ready?” she asks as she puts on one more round of lip gloss.
In a few hours, our eternal futures will be determined for us. There is no way that I’m ready for that.
“Hell no,” I answer for both of us.
We look at each other then we transport ourselves out of my bedroom.
Less than five minutes later, we’re standing in front of our high school. We could have gone anywhere but both Naomi and I have a gut feeling that her killer’s preta lies here. Neither of us has been very good about trusting our instincts but we don’t have too much else to go on.
Students are standing in groups around the parking lot. This is where we all usually meet up in the mornings. I notice most of them are dressed in black and am reminded that they are all going to Naomi’s funeral. She sees it too and her earlier casual attitude shifts to a more somber mood.
The magnitude of it all is sinking in. I squeeze Naomi’s hand and she squeezes mine back. “Violet!” I hear someone say but it feels like it was sent telepathically.
I look around a bit confused and see Lukas waiting by the front doors.
“You and your hottie hitman got some last-minute business?” Naomi teases as she gives Lukas her best “F-me” eyes.
I realize this is her way of coping and I don’t stop her. Whatever she needs to get through this.
“Glad you can still manage to flirt despite damnation looming over us. But just chill here for a second,” I say, forcing myself into the same jokey mood for Naomi’s sake.
I walk over to Lukas. My stomach does a small flip and I’m not sure if that’s because the sight of Lukas is usually a bad omen or because I find it oddly comforting to see him. “What up, Grim Reaper?”
“Sorry, wrong guy,” Lukas replies. “I came here to tell you that the Aiedeo are pleased with you for your work yesterday.”
“They’re commending me for crying with Naomi all night?”
“I think you’re aware that it was more than that. They’d like to reward you.”
“Awesome. Tell ’em to turn me back.”
Lukas shakes his head. “No, you still have to complete your shama. But you’ll see what they have for you inside.”
“Those gals really like their surprises, don’t they?”
“Empathy. It’s one of your most powerful tools as a fighter,” Lukas says.
“Gotcha,” I say, although I don’t really know what he means. But I have no patience for riddles right now. I stand there for a second. I’m not sure what to do next so I decide it’s best to turn around and walk back to Naomi. I guess now that I think about it, empathy was what got Naomi to open up to me last night.
“Wipe that goofy grin off your face,” Naomi commands. “We’ve got work to do, Samos—”
To my amazement, Naomi stops herself.
“You really hate it when I call you that, don’t you?”
“Yup,” I answer.
“Fine, I won’t do it anymore, but you could have said something earlier. It’s okay to stand up for yourself, you know.”
“You’re right.” I shrug. “Stop calling me Samosa, racist hag.”
Naomi grins, and if this were one of those buddy flicks, we would probably high-five each other right now. But it isn’t.
I take a deep breath and march through the front door. I only stop when I hear a loud thud, like when a bird smacks against a window.
“I can’t get in!” Naomi shouts.
I scramble back and fling open the door. Naomi tries to walk through but she bounces backwards like there is an invisible shield stopping her.
Lukas steps in front of Naomi. “This is your shama, Violet. You either fail or succeed on your own.”
Panic and fear rush through me.
“Screw you!” Naomi shrieks as she tries to push Lukas aside, to no avail.
I want to give a massive middle-finger salute to the Aiedeo and call, Game over, but I know that I have to continue. My life and Naomi’s soul are at stake here.
“I got you, Naomi!” I shout, sounding way more confident than I feel.
I turn around and immediately freeze. My blood turns to ice as sweat begins to trickle down my forehead. I could swear that my heart stops except the sound of my pulse bangs against my ears.
Up until this moment, I’ve had a reference for everything that has happened to me, no matter how bizarr
e. The scene unfolding before me definitely belongs in some horror flick or sci-fi fantasy, but I’ve never seen anything like it.
“This is real,” I mumble to myself for what seems like the millionth time in the past week.
Everything at my school looks like it always has except that now, everyone is hairless, skinless, and, more disturbing, faceless. Hollow sockets appear where their eyes, noses, and mouths are supposed to be. Their skin is peeled away like horrific burn victims, leaving their flesh, tendons, bones, and organs exposed.
I have no way of distinguishing them. There are no white girls, black girls, or brown girls anymore. Just me and a bunch of . . . what are they? My stomach churns around and around. They are abominable. The sight of them makes me want to hurl and run at the same time, but I can’t do either.
I hear a bloodcurdling scream and it takes me a moment to recognize it’s coming from me. The sound of bones cracking echoes through the school hallway as the beasts snap their stiff necks in my direction. They all start to move toward me, stumbling and teetering like a drunken flash mob. I dive for the door but I can see through its window that Lukas is standing on the other side, holding it closed. Naomi, my only ally, is nowhere to be seen.
“This is your reward. Figure out how to use it and it will be a major advantage,” Lukas says in his irritatingly calm voice.
I lift my leg up high and kick the glass, right where Lukas’s face is. Neither he nor the door budges. Reward? Only sickos like him and the Aiedeo could think this Stanley Kubrick nightmare is any kind of prize.
In the reflection of the window, I can see the horde closing in. They’re faster now. I try to run but they stop me. Their hungry moans and groans fill my ears. Now that they are so near, I can see the thick, murky sludge of blood that pumps through their organs and their snake-like intestines.
My skin crawls as they grope and grab me all over. They pull at me from every direction. A rank smell of diseased, rotting flesh mixes with the aroma of fresh, tender meat. Some of them are alive and some of them are not. I hear their rattled breathing as they tear at me in a rabid frenzy.
I’m probably supposed to feel pain but I don’t. Perhaps the fear has numbed me. There are just too many of them to fight. My eyelids grow too heavy to hold open and I feel myself sinking to the floor. The last thing I see before my eyes close is a pair of sharp teeth.
* * *
“Find the karun and you will find the preta.”
I can’t see my grandmother but I recognize the Indian Mrs. Butterworth sound of her voice. I call out to her in Assamese. “Ita?”
I wait for a response but there’s none; instead, I feel a chubby hand slam against my cheek. The sting wakes me up. I blink my eyes and see that there’s no grandma next to me.
However, the scene at my school is still wack. The skinless creatures are roaming about as though this is just another day at school. I guess that’s better than them tearing me apart.
I inspect myself and find I have no cuts, bruises, or even scratches. I study the monsters closer and realize it’s actually an absurdly normal scene. They’re carrying textbooks around and chatting with one another, though I don’t hear the conversation.
Did my fear trick me into believing that they were harming me earlier? I don’t have any visible wounds. The idea that it might have been a hallucination gives me more courage. I walk nearby one of them standing next to its locker.
Karun. I remember what Ita said in my short dream. Karun is a person’s true self.
I look around, and suddenly, it all begins to click together. These are my friends, classmates, and teachers. They’re stripped of all the distinguishing physical characteristics that I use to identify them and, to be honest, judge them. Now, only their insides are visible. Not just their organs and blood but deeper than that, all the way to their karuns.
I get why the Aiedeo gave me this as a reward. Right now, everything is out here in plain sight. No one and nothing can hide from me. Especially a preta. But that’s only if I can read the karuns, which I haven’t done in ages. Even if my shama is all about testing my skills, no matter how rusty, reading karuns is difficult as hell. That, I do remember.
I walk down the hallway and flash back to my Aiedeo lessons. Reading karuns is like mind-reading but way more intense. I try to recall what the Aiedeo taught me but the technique is pretty vague right now.
I take a deep breath and continue walking. Repulsion runs through me. I want to look away from them because they are so grotesque, but I force myself to keep my eyes on them.
I realize that I’m somewhere in the midst of my third lap around the school when the horror begins to fade. I stop next to one of them leaning against the wall and a sharp, stinging energy pulsates through my entire body. I look at the large crowd gathered in the hallway, and a massive wave of shame hits me so hard that I have to steady myself against a locker.
There’s a scramble of voices buzzing sharply in my ear like a radio that’s between stations but I can’t make out most of the words. I try to focus harder but all I hear is Freak. Freak. Freak. Over and over.
I follow the sound into a classroom and step inside. Freak. Freak. Freak. Another gigantic wave of emotion rushes through me, but this time, it’s fear.
I stand there confused, trying to figure out what’s going on, when the crackle from the overhead intercom startles me back to now. The school secretary clears her throat and announces that Naomi’s funeral service will be held at the cemetery; there’ll be a reception for the guests at the Talbert Funeral Home afterward.
The clock on the wall reads 12:30 p.m. My heart plunges. Naomi’s funeral will start in thirty minutes.
They all pour into the hallway in droves and I cannot escape them. Freak. Freak. Freak. I am terrified that they will hurt me again yet I am paralyzed to stop it. Feelings of shame followed by fear continue to slam against me like I’m in a violent sea storm. My body trembles from the weight of the emotions. Freak is all I can hear in my ears, in my head, inside of me. I taste the saltiness of my tears before I realize that I’m crying and try to prepare myself for their assaults. They surround me. I raise my arms in defense.
They know who I really am, I shout to myself.
Freak. Freak. Freak. I hear it so loud that it hurts my ears. I try to see how many of them are saying it when everything stops. I realize that they’re not even looking at me. None of them notice me at all.
Freak. Freak. Freak. I cover my ears because I feel like my brain is going to explode. Then suddenly, I feel it. It’s a karun with layers and layers of heat radiating off it. Its rage is terrifying. It knocks into me so hard that I actually topple over. I’m afraid its overwhelming hunger will swallow me whole right here, and I stay down on the ground. I found the preta.
I lift my head cautiously. Even though I’m already on the ground, I feel like I’ve been slammed down again. I can actually see the preta now. It has sallow, mummified skin, emaciated limbs that are twice as long as its thin frame, and a mouth no bigger than a coin. It’s like a poltergeist and phantasm combined into one, and its appearance sends shock waves of chills down my spine.
My inclination is to stay right where I am but I know that I can’t. I will myself to my feet and begin to follow the preta. The preta moves fast, darting from spot to spot so that it’s just out of my reach.
It moves outside. The minute I step into the fresh air, my entire body breathes a sigh of relief. For a second, I place my head against the brick exterior of the building and let it cool me while I collect myself.
I see that practically the entire school is gathered in the parking lot, preparing to go to Naomi’s funeral service at the cemetery. The preta is among them. My every instinct warns me not to go any farther but this is my last chance. I have to do this or I will die.
* * *
I chase the preta into the cemetery. Everyone else has changed back to normal and it is the only skinless human out here with me. It looks like the other beasts that I
just faced except that its limbs are more mangled and twisted like wild vines of ivy. I know that it must have seen me but it has not looked at me once.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a crowd of people sitting in folded chairs. Meryl and Dede are in the back row but neither of them turns when I run by. It seems that not even my nanny can see me now.
I keep on running and my eyes fall on Naomi’s dead body lying in the casket. I’ve already seen her dead body in the morgue, but that doesn’t compare to seeing it here. At her funeral. The reverend is giving a eulogy and everyone is crying. I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest and I look around for Bhoot Naomi but she isn’t here.
It can’t be too long before they lower the body into the ground. My heartbeat falls in sync with the rapid ticktock of the clock that I can hear in my head.
I notice the preta crouching behind a gravestone. Does that big-ass monster really think it can hide from me? I race to where it is, unsure of what I’m supposed to do if I catch it.
To my surprise, I’m fast on the preta’s heels when it suddenly transforms in front of my very eyes. It’s long, narrow frame turns into a hulking, massive man’s body ripped with muscles so tight that the veins pop out. The head takes on the shape of a lion with a mane made of a thousand vigilant eyes. It bares its long fangs and needle-sharp claws.
I cower. It’s here to destroy me.
It’s worse than any nightmare but the almost painful buzzing in my brain reminds me that I am fully awake. My heart hammers in my ears and my muscles tense.
The bright sun shining up above retreats and blackness covers us. I blink my eyes to adjust to the darkness but I can no longer see it. I can only hear the faint sound of its paws slinking in the grass around me. It is stalking me like prey.
I am sure it can smell my terror, which oozes from every pore. Then I feel a gust of wind and I know that the beast is charging toward me.
I have always hated nature shows but Dede loves them. It’s the only TV that we ever argue over. Now I mentally race through all the animal specials and remember something vague about lions charging straight at you because they are unable to change their direction. I pray this includes half-lion, half-human beasts as well.
