Altruist (The Altruist Series Book 1)

by Walsh, Ashley

  “What the hell is this?” I feel my cheeks begin to turn bright red as tears from pure anger begin to flow. He turns back around, his face blank, with absolutely no sign of recognition to my question. “Answer me, Abel! Dammit, what is this? Who are you? Answer me!” My voice is leaving my body with so much force that I feel my throat start to burn. Nothing. He says nothing, his eyes say nothing, nothing.

  “Abel? Cate?” I hear Shoshanna coming from down the hall. We stand there, Eliath and Shoshanna are staring at me from the doorway, I’m staring at Abel, Abel is staring at the floor. What is happening? Absolute silence counter balances the crescendo of questions in my mind. I can’t do this. I turn to leave but Abel grabs my arm, “Cate, wait…” I tear my arm from his hand, my eyes meet Shoshanna, and then Eliath’s, and all I can manage is to mutter, “Stay away from me.”

  I can feel the blood in my veins warm as my legs reach out, one in front of the other, faster and faster. My heart pounds so quickly that I can barely tell where one beat ends and the other begins. My skin is hot and I can feel it begin to tingle but for some reason, I’m not sweating. I realize that my lungs aren’t burning with exhaustion even as trees wiz by me and his house fades into the background. Energy pulsates through my limbs and propels me faster than I could ever imagine moving. After a few moments my breathing evens out and though my inhalations slow, my pace quickens. I feel alive. The anger that I felt moments ago begins to dissipate and my mind clears. I am at peace. I never noticed how quiet these woods were—

  THUD

  I feel an acute throbbing on the back of my head and tumble to the ground. Blinking my eyes open, I cough violently as air struggles to reenter my lungs. Pushing myself off of the ground I hear the rustling of feet against the dirt and suddenly a black leather boot finds my ribcage and I am thrown onto my back. The pain is excruciating and constant. I grip my side to stabilize the bones.

  “You really thought I wouldn’t come back?” a raspy voice rings in my ears as a tall dark figure crosses my line of vision. “Why do you look so utterly confused Catherine?” Jolts of lightening shoot through my body as the sole of her boot finds my ribs again and I roll over into fetal position clutching my sides.

  “Stop…please,” I manage to mutter, the taste of blood now in my mouth.

  “Stop?” The woman laughs. “Do you not remember me?” The creak of her voice infects her laughter as her tone elevates upon each rhetorical question. “Do you not remember yourself?” Another blow from her boot meets my body and I cry out in pain. She kneels down and jerks my jaw toward her. My mouth gaping, I blink until my sight clears and once it does I immediately recall her sharp features, the juxtaposition of her wavy jet black hair against her pale skin—the woman from the bookstore. My mind begins to race. “Don’t worry, Catherine. This will be quick.”

  I grit my teeth, mustering every ounce of energy that I can and this time, as her boot reaches for my body, my arm shoots out towards it and stops her as if she has hit a wall. Her body becomes suspended over mine. For a moment, I search her face for recognition of what is happening but she seems as confused as I am. I feel her weight, but not against my hands and arms as I should; I feel it in my mind. Instantly, my body comes to life, yelling, screaming with red hot energy. I reach my other hand toward her, inches away from coming into actual contact, and rolling onto my back I catapult her over me. Scrambling onto my feet, I glance over my right shoulder to see the woman shaking her head as she begins to rustle up off of the ground, a guttural moan escapes her—she was not expecting that. I turn to run but soon realize that I will not be able to lose her and prepare myself for the impending attack. I watch as she struggles to lift herself. “Come on! Get up!” I scream, the voice that escapes my body does not sound like my own but the adrenaline, the pure hatred racing through me does not feel like my own either.

  The woman gathers herself and moves towards me. “You… will regret that, Catherine.” Her voice cuts through me and I tighten my fists, readying my stance as I accept what is about to happen. Suddenly Shoshanna appears, racing towards us and tackles the woman to the ground. Blow after blow, her fists find the woman’s frame. I stand there for a moment in complete shock until Shoshanna glances towards me. “Run Cate...Now!” I am, idle, unable to move, watching as Shoshanna knocks the woman into submission. “Cate. Go!” I snap back into reality, turn, and run.

  Chapter 8

  My face is salty with tears by the time I reach the edge of the woods and my feet hit the asphalt of Highway 15. What just happened? What is happening to me? My palms burn and my head aches with exhaustion. Pace slowing, I fight the urge to collapse. I have to keep going, I need to get home. Then it hits me—home, how am I going to explain why I look like a caged animal to my parents? Scrapes and dirt adorn my arms and blood is trickling from the left side of my lips. I gasp for air. Something that came so effortlessly moments ago is now a struggle, a one person war. Closing my eyes, I try to clear my mind, taking deep breaths along the way. Think Cate, think. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my cell phone and instantly begin to dial the only number that makes sense.

  “Hello?” a loud voice shouts over the sound of guitars and drums being brutally pounded out of sync.

  “Asher?” I half whisper, not knowing what to say next.

  “Yeah, Cate? What’s up?” I hear him yell back to his band mates to turn down the amps.

  “I need you to come get me, something happened, I can’t really explain, I just need you okay? I’m on the 15, somewhere past Mill Creek Barn. Please, Asher, can you hurry?” My voice begins to crack towards the end and holding my breath is all I can do to keep from crying.

  “Of course, I’m on my way, leaving now, stay put.”

  The phone beeps twice, signaling the end of the call. I pace rapidly for a moment before collapsing onto the ground.

  ###

  “Cate! Cate, wake up!”

  I open my eyes and see Asher’s face coming into view, his frame hunched over mine, eyebrows raised in panic and concern, and his hand cradling my neck. I realize that I must look like I lost a fight to a pack of wolves or angst-ridden vampires. If only he knew that the cause of my injuries were from someone much more terrifying and very human.

  “Cate, oh my God, what happened? Are you okay? Here…” He takes my hand in his and begins to raise it towards him. “Wrap your arm around my neck, I need to get you into the car, you need a doctor.”

  “No, Asher…” I groan. “I’m fine, it looks worse than it is, really, I’ll be okay. I just need to get out of here and I can’t go home like this.” I know that he must think I’m crazy, and though things are very far from fine, physically I feel my strength begin to restore. Asher sighs, but after studying my face he eventually gives in.

  “Okay,” he murmurs, half committed to this decision.

  The car ride is silent, and though I’m sure his mind is frantic with questions, Asher remains quiet and I appreciate the time to myself. The small beaten down black coupe zooms past the trees, past the trail where I left Shoshanna, alone, and saved myself. My heart begins to ache at the thought of her. Please let her be okay. I feel a knot begin to form in my throat and I swallow hard. This never should have happened. They should have answered my questions, he should have answered. There should have never been any questions to begin with. Please let her be okay.

  Reaching Asher’s house, the car’s brakes squeak to a stop and I can hear the engine tick as if it’s trying desperately to calm down as I shut the car door; I can relate. I follow closely behind Asher and into his room, hoping not to be spotted by his family. His family, people I have been so close to for as long as I can remember, I suddenly fear they wouldn’t recognize me. For a moment, it’s an odd feeling and I’m not sure why I have it at all.

  “Why don’t you head into the bathroom and clean up. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go let my mom and sister know you’re over and make sure they’re satisfied enough to stay away.”

&nb
sp; All I can manage to conjure up is a smile, and even though it’s not much, it seems enough and he smiles back at me. I walk into the bathroom and am met by an overwhelming amount of blue accents; I don’t know why I never noticed it before, the blue shower curtain, towels, bathmat, even the single tooth brush sitting on the counter. In light of everything, I have no idea why I’ve chosen this moment to notice it at all. For some reason, it’s comforting to me. Of course Asher’s bathroom is flooded with blue, it’s typical. No, not typical—simple, like him, and I can’t help but smile again. My observational humor is quickly interrupted once I meet my reflection in the mirror. My hair is knotted and tangled, my clothes are tattered and blood stained, and suddenly I realize why I was so uncomfortable at the thought of his family not recognizing me as the girl who used to build forts all day long in their son’s room; I do not recognize myself.

  Asher returns a moment later and knocks twice on the door. “Can I come in?” I reluctantly unlock the latch and turn the knob. My gaze lands on the tiled floor. “Cate…what happened out there?

  I slowly allow my eyes to meet his, which to my surprise aren’t judgmental. I’m not sure why I expected them to be. Instead his light hazel eyes appear sincere, and after a brief moment, I absolutely feel safe. The tears begin to flow and this time I know I can’t hold them back, I can’t stop them. He walks towards me and motions for me to sit on the edge of the bath, takes a towel and runs it under warm water. He kneels before me and begins to press the cloth into a cut along my forehead. He pulls his lower lip partly into his mouth and bites down, my gut wrenches anticipating the impending interrogation and I take a deep breath, readying myself.

  “You don’t have to tell me what happened right now. We don’t have to talk about it. Just let me help you get yourself back together. I think it’s best if you stay here tonight.” His voice is so sincere and the quiet boy I’ve always known seems so alive and in control. Air escapes my lungs and I begin to feel relaxed. “Everything will be okay, Cate.”

  I want, more than anything, to believe him.

  Chapter 9

  I lurch out of bed, stagger onto my feet, then head down the hall towards Asher’s room. I’m so focused on the goal ahead that I forget all sense of courtesy and barrel into his room like something out of a 90s sitcom. “Asher! Wake up! We have work to do and I need your brain,” I shout.

  Asher jumps up grabbing his comforter desperately and tumbles off of his bed. “What? When? You got a job…or… what?” He tugs at my words trying to work them through his sleep filled mind.

  “No, Asher just get dressed. We’re going to my house,” I reassure him.

  “Oh okay,” he mumbles and pulls himself up off of the ground.

  I open the door to Asher’s car and slide into the seat, buckling the belt in one fluid motion. Pretending to be patient, I sit, waiting for Asher to do the same. Instead he’s fumbling with his phone, trying to find the perfect underground music transmission, noting he can’t stand the government station for our two-mile trek. My fingertips begin to tap anxiously against my knees. Facing me, he tilts his chin down, his eyebrows follow, and he smirks, “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah…yep,” I reply, trying to keep the nerves away from my voice. His focus turns back to his phone.

  “Ah-ha, perfect.” He syncs the device to his stereo and a Sufjan Stevens song begins to echo throughout the vehicle. Calming and slow, Asher’s musical choice is actually exactly what I need. “Thank God for Fall Break!” He tightens his fists around the steering wheel and presses his back into his seat. “One more day with Mrs. Martin and I would have been forced to throw myself out a window.” His tone is drenched in sarcasm and he laughs, causing me to laugh.

  “Come on, she can’t be THAT bad,” I say.

  “Can’t be that bad?” he replies, astounded. “Okay, I’ll give you an example; a few weeks ago I decided to bake her cookies with an ‘M’ made of candy in the center of each—”

  “Wait,” I interject. “You made her cookies?” I try to contain my laughter but it has a mind of its own and spills out into the car.

  “Yeah, yeah, it gets better…” he continues. “So I have this plate of cookies, right?” he says smiling, “and I’m standing in front of her desk and I say something like, ‘Here, Mrs. Martin, I made these for you. I thought they’d make you smile and make being my teacher easier to bear,’ and you know what she does? She takes the plate, stares at it, and then goes, ‘I don’t eat gluten,’ with almost this snarl, I swear! And then, to top it off, she looked right up at me while she threw them into the garbage. And, here’s the best part, she threw away the plate along with the cookies. So then I had to explain to my mom where her plate with the autumn leaves design on it went.”

  I double over from laughter, holding onto my legs as if it’ll make my sides stop aching. “I can’t Asher, I can’t even…you’re killing me,” laughter interrupts each word I try to speak. “Why didn’t I hear about this before now?”

  “I don’t know, remember that day a couple weeks ago when I said I needed to get to school early for help with my math homework? And you had to ride the bus alone?” I nod. “Yeah, well I actually had to go in early for this lesson in humiliation and I knew that one of two things would have happened: you would have made fun of me before I ever got up the nerve, at age 17, to actually give a teacher cookies as a way of bribery, or Willa would have eaten the entire plate before we ever arrived.

  I smack his arm. “I wouldn’t have made fun of you!” We sit there, smiling at one another for a moment. “Okay, maybe I would have.” We both laugh again and I open the car door and look at my house, which we have been parked in front of for about ten minutes.

  I wave my forearm against the scanner that unlocks our front door and wait for it to recognize me as an inhabitant. “Mom?” I shout, “Are you home?” I wait for a response but nothing comes. “Guess it’s just you and me, kid.” Asher shrugs. “I texted Willa before I woke you up. She should be here soon.”

  Asher nods and I make my way up the stairs with him following close behind. I stop halfway down the hall, directly in front of Sophia’s bedroom. “Here, help me with this,” I say, looking towards the rope that stretches to the ceiling.

  “What are we doing?” he asks, but he obliges my request without being given an answer. Together we tug on the rope, awakening the door as the collapsing staircase falls towards us.

  “Come on.” I motion for him to follow as I climb the stairs to the attic. Asher reaches the top closely behind me and his gaze scans the dusty room filled with boxes of forgotten times.

  “What are we doing up here?” his voice creaks. I had been trying to figure out exactly how I could get his help in this venture without giving him so much information that he freaks out and leaves.

  “Asher…” I mutter. “Sit down.” He pulls up a wooden crate as I begin. “Asher, I know a lot of what I’m about to say will sound crazy, but just listen. I told you about those dreams I’ve been having, and you know how you said you thought it was my subconscious trying to work out something in the best way it knew how to?” He nods. “Well I think you’re right—”

  “They haven’t stopped?”

  “No, actually they’ve become a lot more frequent,” I admit and Asher’s brow sinks in concentration.

  The sound of shoes on the wooden staircase fills the dusty attic air and a second later Willa appears, clearly disgruntled about the location of our Fall Break hangout spot. “One of you help me across these beams, and one of you explain why we’re here.” Her eyes dart toward us and, though clearly irritated, she smiles in a way that tells me of course this is how we’re choosing to spend our much deserved break.

  “Cate was just saying how she’s been having those nightmares a lot a more frequently.”

  “That’s just it…” My eyes meet his and then hers. “I’m not convinced they’re nightmares anymore. They’re too real, too filled with detail—things that shouldn’t matter re
ally or even be created if it were just a bad dream.”

  “What are you saying?” Willa’s voice seems suddenly serious.

  “I don’t know, I really don’t. All I do know is that I have this gut feeling that the dreams, that box my dad found up here, Abel and his family…” I take a deep breath as if not only preparing myself but them as well. “I think they’re all connected in some way.”