The Faces of Lions (Book One - The Reset)

by Angie Morel

  “NO!” I screamed. A hoe was leaning against the middle post next to me. Grabbing it, I moved to stand between him and Mary. I didn’t dare think of my sister until this thing was killed.

  Rolo. I needed Rolo. I needed someone to help.

  “ROLO!”

  The banger moved towards me, Mary forgotten. His shaggy brown hair was long and a portion of it hung over his shoulder in tangles, while the rest was held in a baggy ponytail that clung to his neck and upper back like a dead animal. For some reason he had one bare foot while the other was encased in a black patent leather shoe, and wore what was once, no doubt, a crisp white dress shirt paired with a cummerbund and blue jeans, of all things. The shirt was now wrinkled and had burgundy smudges all over it, which I suspected was dried blood.

  “ROLO, HELP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. This needed to be finished so I could tend to Mary. Please, please, please let her be okay.

  I lunged, jabbing at him with the business end of the hoe. He got lucky and knocked it aside. Adjusting my grip, I switched it around, holding it like a baseball bat. He moved and I swung the hoe like I was trying to send him to the moon. It was a glancing blow at best, but it stunned him long enough for me to swing again and catch him full in the face with the blunt heavy blade. He wobbled as blood began to pour down his face. After a second he straightened, attempting to rush me. I danced away after giving him a hard poke in the gut. The air oophed out of him, and while he was doubled over I tried bashing the back of his skull in. He moved at the last second and I missed by an inch, the hoe passing by the side of his head and hitting the barn floor with such force that I almost dropped it from the shock traveling up my arms.

  Stunned for a second, I wasn’t quick enough to avoid the boulder-sized fist when it slammed into my shoulder. I desperately held onto the hoe as I backpedaled. Luckily I’d been holding the hoe mostly with my left hand because my entire right arm went numb after his hit—lucky even more that his fist hadn’t connected with my face. I regained my balance and quickly jerked to the side as he tried to tackle me.

  In the distance I could hear Rolo calling my name.

  “I’M IN THE BARN! HURRY!”

  The banger spun around after his attempted take down. And then he started for me again. Finally I heard running footsteps.

  “C’mon fucker” I said, glancing around for anything that would be more useful than the cumbersome hoe. A machete hung from a hook near the dark corner, visible now that more light had invaded the depths of the barn. Unfortunately the banger was between me and it. When he was about five feet away I threw the hoe at him and darted past, twirling as I lifted the blade from the hook. He spun around and faced me as I made my first attempt to cut him in half. Swinging my arm out wide, the blade grazed his chest, resulting in a twelve inch gash in his shirt. At least I’d made solid contact with his skin as well, if the blood soaking into the white fabric around the split was any indication. However, it was nowhere near life-threatening. Plus, he didn’t wince or give any outward signs that he even felt the pain.

  As he stepped forward again, I couldn’t take it anymore and yelled “Just DIE already MOTHERFUCKER!”

  I spun around, both hands holding the handle and my arms out stiff as my entire weight went behind the next blow. The blade of the machete passed through his neck with only the slightest resistance, and for a brief moment, his head, furious expression and all, sat askew on his neck before toppling off and landing at his feet with a thud. His body froze in a Frankenstein pose, blood squirting out of his neck stump in pulses, before finally dropping to the ground, his headless body falling to his knees first before toppling forward. I’d already turned away, every bit of my attention now focused on Mary.

  I dropped the machete and flew to my sister’s still form on the dusty floor. I was terrified to touch her. Terrified to see the proof of what I knew down in the abyss of my heart. “Mary?” I said pleadingly, a sob escaping.

  I heard Rolo rush into the barn. D and Snick were right behind him. “Oh my God what happened?” D said in horror.

  Mary was on her side, facing the barn wall. Ever so gently, I pulled her broken little body face up. Her eyes were open, but I could see—Oh God—I could see the beautiful light within them diminishing.

  “Asha” she whispered, blinking a few times.

  “Mary. Mary.” I could barely get her name through my tight throat.

  “Don’t cry. I don’t hurt no more, the pain went away.” She coughed and blood misted the air. “I’m so lucky that I got you for a big sister,” she said. “You always took such good care of me, better than mommy ever did. Do you think I’ll see her in heaven?” Tears had cut a path from the corners of her eyes to the edge of her hair, where they soaked in.

  “No!” I said, shaking my head. “No. Um, I mean, I don’t know if she’s there but, you’re not, um, you’re not going there yet, please.” I choked out. “You’ll be okay. Do you hear me? You’ll be okay.” I could barely talk through the tightness of my throat. Rolo and the others huddled around us. D started to cry.

  “I love you Ashy” Oh God, she hadn’t called me that since she was about two years old. My heart was literally shattering. I watched Mary’s eyes glaze over. Death was coming to collect her, coming to steal away her beautiful soul. Take me instead, I begged silently.

  I couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore, all I could say was “No, no, Mary, please!” My lips had pulled back from my teeth as air rushed in and out. Suddenly Mary focused on me again.

  “Promise me that you’ll take care of them, Ashy. I see you…and them, others…” she drifted for a moment, her eyes faraway, then she seemed to come back, like she had something that she must finish. With an odd intensity she said, “Promise me.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll take care of them, I promise. Anything you want.” I bent forward and kissed Mary’s forehead, pressing my lips firmly to the skin, over and over, tattooing my love there, and then over every inch of her face, making sure she knew how much she was loved.

  “I love you Junebug, always,” I said between kisses. And then I could feel her leaving me for good this time. The hardest thing I ever had to do was move my face to be directly above hers, so she could take the love that burned in my eyes with her when she left this world. My face was inches away, my thumbs lovingly brushing her cheeks. We stared at each other.

  Her breath got choppy and short.

  And then it stopped altogether.

  No.

  No.

  My eyes continued to look back and forth between Mary’s fixed ones, unable to accept the fact that she was dead. Swallowing, I blinked rapidly before picking up her limp hand and pressing it to my cheek. And then I moved it to my forehead as my eyes squeezed shut. The pain was going to blow my head off. It was going to explode—my whole body was going to explode.

  With exaggerated care, I set Mary’s lifeless hand on her chest and reached out, closing her beautiful eyes forever. My heartbeat was heavy and thick, an uncomfortable blob expanding and contracting in my chest. Whump. Whump. Whump. It was all I could feel, all I could hear.

  Until another sound intruded.

  A high-pitched, keening sound. Who was making that awful noise? They needed to stop! It was a crazy sound, a mad siren drilling into my ears. As I brought my hands up to cover my ears, I realized my mouth was open. The sound was coming from me. With a huge effort, I clenched my throat, shutting it off.

  Shaking my head to try and clear the dark spots growing into my vision, I pushed up from my knees and stood. The movement was jerky, my body uncooperative. I turned away from my sister’s body, unable to look anymore. Air rushed in and then out of my lungs. Something was wrong inside. I could feel it. Something was broken, sick. The dark spots multiplied.

  Rational thoughts were gone, lost in the blackness growing in my head. My hands found my knees as I bent over, lips pulled back, sucking in air like it was a thick, noxious substance. A splatter of blood caught my attention, looking
dark as it soaked into the dirt floor of the barn. As I stared, the muscles in my body tightened. The splatter blurred. My hands fisted as I rose to my full height, unable to catch my breath. The thing that had taken over inside of me wanted out. It was expanding and expanding. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  My fisted hands came up to my temples as a scream came out. It took forever for it to stop. And then I stumbled around a few seconds, looking for a target. And then I found one—three actually. My feet marched over to the first banger I killed. Stomping my foot on its head, I grabbed the axe handle and cranked it back and forth and back and forth until it came loose with a wet sucking sound. Staggering back step, I turned to Rolo, D, and Snick. My mouth opened, and the madness and rage consuming me allowed only two words to come out.

  “GET OUT!”

  Chapter 10

  I found myself on my hands and knees, retching outside the barn. The force of it was so violent that my entire lower body shot up off the ground with each heave. When there was nothing left to come up, I crawled away weakly and flopped on my back. I could feel the blood, snot, sweat, and tears all fighting for a place to dry on my face.

  Oh God, Mary.

  Looking at the morning sky, my eyes only saw a broken little body. I let Mary die. I let my precious little sister be slaughtered by one of those things. How did it happen? Could I live with this stupid foolish girl that I’d become? I wanted a do-over. I wanted to go back to earlier this morning and shake myself for getting complacent, for letting a fucking rooster and pretty morning distract me from the fact that it’s dangerous every single second out here—and others up paying for your mistakes with their lives.

  This whole thing was my fault. First, I fell asleep on my watch, and then I recklessly went to investigate a dark barn by myself, which fed into the chain of events that ended up stealing Mary’s life. I couldn’t live with it—I couldn’t live with the consequences of my actions. The pain was smothering me, making me fight for every breath.

  Oh God, Mary.

  I had to shut it off. Shut it off, swallow it down. I knew how, I’d done it before. Shut it off, oh God. My eyes squeezed shut. Crush the pain into a ball and swallow it down. Down, down, down. And then tuck it into the secret dark place where the pain goes to sleep.

  After a while I opened my eyes, numb. Letting my head roll to the side, I looked down the path that led to farmhouse. The morning mist was turning into a hazy memory as the sun edged over the trees and burned it off.

  If only I could do the same to the memory of this morning, burn it off. Incinerate it.

  Reluctantly, my eyes travelled further, until they focused on the farmhouse. In the shadows of the porch, D and Snick huddled on the swing that hung from the rafters. Rolo sat unmoving on the porch steps, his head clutched in his hands.

  They probably couldn’t believe Mary was gone.

  They probably thought I’d lost my mind.

  They’d be right. The result of my madness lay in pieces and parts all over the barn floor, and I didn’t want to go in there ever again. But I had to get Mary.

  Pulling up into a sitting position, which was a process since my muscles were shot, I knew what needed to be done. I stood, and with grim determination took a few shaky steps before getting into the rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, left, right. As I approached the house I glanced up and met two sets of swollen eyes. Wary expressions. Rolo wouldn’t even look at me.

  They knew it was my fault that Mary died. And after it happened, when I screamed at them? Yeah, I lost it. Completely. But a part of me didn’t care what they thought. In fact, I barely registered any emotion at all inside, like I was a dull and weathered carbon copy of myself.

  Silently I went up the porch steps. They were wide, allowing me plenty of room to avoid Rolo. At the screen door, I grasped the handle and jerked it open, letting it smack shut behind me as I climbed the stairs, turning at the top. I stopped at the first bedroom. Spying what I needed, I entered the room and proceeded to the neatly made bed. On autopilot, my fingers barely felt the fabric as I pulled and gathered the purple and white patchwork quilt. Bunching it up in my arms, I turned and collided with an image in the dresser mirror.

  I froze.

  Who was that? Who the fuck was that crazy looking person drenched in blood and gore looking back at me in the mirror?

  Against my will, my feet took a couple of steps closer. The image moved as well. Pain-crazed eyes came into focus. Quickly I shifted my gaze to something else. Unfortunately, the next thing that snagged my attention was—to my horror—a chunk of flesh that clung to my hair along the side of my face. And there was a piece of something on my shoulder.

  Dropping my eyes, I readjusted the quilt and forced myself to walk out of the room and back down the stairs and out onto the porch, not letting the screen door slam shut behind me this time. The boys were still in the same spots. I opened my mouth, and then closed it. Slowly I stepped down from the porch, avoiding Rolo on the steps again, and turned when my feet touched the ground.

  Clearing my throat, the words, when they came out, were scratchy, the tone distant. “I’m going to bury my sister, and I need to do this by myself.” I risked a glance up. Snick and D stared at me with tear-streaked faces. They nodded. D’s faced crumpled as he started crying again.

  Rolo looked up, eyes red, searching my face. Somehow seeing those eyes in particular red from crying tears for Mary felt like a fist to the gut. I had to remember to breathe, and I kept swallowing, swallowing, swallowing; so close to losing it again. Turning away, I went to gather my sister.

  I found a spot to the side of a weeping willow tree located further up the hill from the barn. It looked out over the whole property and would catch the first morning light. As I started digging, the weeping willow began moving in the wind, its branches gently caressing the ground beneath like a loving mother stroking her precious baby. I stifled a sob. Mary would love it here.

  Over and over I pushed the shovel in, turning the earth out, excavating my sister’s grave. Whereas this hole would be filled again after Mary’s body rested at the bottom, the massive hole inside me would never be filled.

  Everything was dull and hazy. I felt removed from life, from the situation, which was exactly how I wanted to be. Three days had passed since Mary died. The first two were spent wandering around like a ghost, not speaking to anyone.

  And then yesterday—jackpot. I found a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and gave it a go.

  Jack Daniel’s Old Time, Old No.7 Brand, Quality Tennessee Sour Mash Whiskey (several staring contests with the label yielded an ability to recite every word on the damn thing) was just what I needed.

  There was a bit of a learning curve when it came to drinking. Never having consumed alcohol before, I realized too late that you can’t guzzle it down right off the bat. Can’t slam it down like good ol’ momsie used to.

  After it came up the first time, scalding my sinuses and throat, I slowed down and sipped it, careful not to overdo it. No, no, can’t have that! Must take steady, small drinks so the buzz stayed constant and the tummy stayed happy.

  Rather surprised to find that I’d emptied the first bottle, I found a second to replace it about an hour ago. Taking a pull from the bottle, my eyes closed as the amber liquid burned its way down the entire length from mouth to stomach. It was awful and wonderful at the same time.

  It was early afternoon, and I’d planted myself on the ground after finding the second bottle, my back leaning against the clothesline post that was set in the yard to the west of the house. Letting my eyes lose focus and distort the features in the distance, I could pretend the weeping willow tree wasn’t taunting me, trying to get my attention. But it was no use as my eyes were drawn to it again and again. Hey you, poor excuse for a sister it called, tendrils catching the wind like fingers beckoning, look over here, LOOK OVER HERE! Look what you’ve done…

  A figure appeared off to the side, pressing into my vi
sion like a thorn in flesh. Rolo.

  “Go away,” I sneered, bringing the bottle up to take another swig. It disappeared in a blur and my hand flew out to the side, a sharp pain trailing after it. What the fuck! I wasn’t sure what happened for a moment, until my sluggish mind comprehended that the blur had been Rolo’s foot moving, that he actually kicked the bottle out of my hand. I turned my head and glared at him. When that became too much of an effort, I moved it back to center and stared at the tree in the distance again. Screw him.

  “I never figured on you bein’ a quitter. You just thought you’d hit your ‘give up’ button and be done, right? Shit, Mary’s probably twistin’ around in her grave at what you’re turnin’ out to be,” he said casually.

  “Fuck off,” I said. My peripheral vision caught the motion of his head as it swung towards me. The blast of heat from his gaze almost seared my face.

  “Oh hey, I know. You miss your mommy so much you thought you’d turn yourself into her, is that it? Little Mary was wrong about that, wasn’t she? About you takin’ better care of her than—”

  “Shut up, SHUT UP!” I screamed as I shot up from the ground and reached for Rolo—or tried to—when the world slanted, making me stutterstep and fall hard on my shoulder and face, arms unable to get there fast enough to catch myself. My limbs seemed to be working on a two second delay from my brain. Pushing up, I attempted to tackle him at his knees. He stepped aside easily. Down on the ground again, my breath puffed out in angry bursts. There was an autumn leaf that appeared in exquisite detail about two inches from my nose.

  An ugly boiling color was filling my vision, washing the leaf in a vivid red. How dare he say those things to me! He had no fucking right. I pushed up from the ground again, got to my knees and then put my feet under me with careful drunken slowness. Standing, I faced him and let him see the fury in my eyes. Taking a step, I threw a punch and missed, surprised when a sob escaped me. I swallowed it, getting ready for the next attempt to hurt him.