by Ira Robinson
Panic set in again as she strained, her head pounding as she shook it back and forth, the words no, no, echoing over and over in her mind.
Anguish burst from her breast, a fiery agony from somewhere deep inside. Her hands instinctively grasped, but they were held too fast by the thing. Nailed to the wall, she could do nothing at all.
The pain rose through her chest and into her neck, making her grit her teeth. A guttural moan eased from her throat as acid fingers reached from down below.
It was joined by the grinding of teeth against enamel as the creature's own jaws moved slowly, grating against one another while moving closer.
"Mine," the whisper came into her.
She craned her eyes down as wisps of black smoke trickled from the bottom of her face, exuding from her maw. Her tongue was covered in it, a musky ash taste that drained all else. Fingerlings of it wafted into her nostrils, flowing back into her even though she tried to hold her breath.
A moment later the beast opened his own mouth and the smoke began to flow from her and into it. A momentary hesitation, tasting the flavor she was giving it, before opening wide and taking in more.
Great gobs of it poured from her, the stream going regardless of any inhale she took or biting back she tried to do. And with the passing seconds, the thing, already so strong, seemed to grow.
The memory of Odessa's death came to her, the moments she spent in the darkness with the creature, locked within her own mind in the small room, filthy and bereft of any sense of life.
The crib in the room was the only thing that gave connection, perhaps, to herself.
It was finally, at that moment, Sam realized what she had been told was right. Through her fear and desperation, she knew this phantom, this rotting demonic corpse, was a remnant of her own father.
She tried to cry out, to scream at the top of her voice for the beast to leave her alone, to go away, but nothing more than a gasp came out. It only served to push more of the smoke, consumed by the nightmare holding her in place.
Her body began to jerk, not under any control of herself, but from the life being dragged from her, second by second, the uncontrollable flow going from her to it - him - without any ability of her own to fight.
Her tongue moved within her mouth, touching the roof, her teeth, all over the fleshy gums as it sought purchase.
"D.." The sound was cut off by another spasm. "D... Da..."
Finally, the word was uttered. "Dad..."
The skeletal grin seemed to shift as the brute, this remnant of her father's spirit brought forth into demon, caught the word and stumbled in what he was doing. The grip on her arm loosened almost imperceptibly as he reared back slightly.
Before she could recover, he came forward again, the hideous laugh washing away the scowl. More of the black smoke absorbed from her into himself and gripped her harder.
Her fear latched onto the hope, the momentary pause giving her enough strength to say, once more, "Dad..."
He - it - stopped again, this time loosening the seizing on her arms more. She took the chance to push against the hands holding her and was gratified when the powerful grip was broken away.
The thing stumbled backward a step, then another, as she fell to the floor in a heap, her legs buckling beneath her. She hit hard - the two feet she was raised was enough to cause her to lose her balance altogether. The pain in her chest faded almost instantly, but was replaced by a burst in her flank.
Sam did not let that stop her. She was propelled to speak, to say anything that might keep the thing at bay.
"Dad... Why?" She tried to recover from the splayed position she was in, but she was so weak. Her voice barely escaped her lips.
He bent down, crouching his form as his ember eyes stared into her. The hands almost touched the floor as he paced back another step, nudging the bed behind him.
This egged her on, giving her the courage to do more. She cleared her throat, chuffing more of the black smoke out of her chest. It gagged her when she opened her mouth again but after a weak cough, she could speak again.
But what to say? A thousand thoughts went through her mind, but she could fully grasp none of them as the frenzy inside of her ran riot. She could not concentrate, each breath within the short span of a few precious moments desperately reached for and consumed.
There was so little she could do to him physically. He was much too strong, more powerful than she could have imagined, and with each second grew stronger. But her words had some kind of impact. Did they reach some part inside, some bit of the human he once was remaining?
Maybe so. As she stared at the creature that was her father, she sensed the hesitation, the way he seemed to be a little less sure.
Say something, fool! Sam's mind sliced through the physical suppression the fear wrought within.
"All I wanted -" she said, before the feeling of the smoke in her throat interrupted her again. The embers stared her down, squinting as her voice escaped her body. "All I wanted was for you to be there with me."
The hunched figure leaned even further to the floor. The knuckles of his hands scraped the carpet and his head bent, almost imperceptibly. Had she not been staring at him the whole time, she might not have noticed, but it was enough to give her more grit in the storm of dread and despair wracking her.
"I wanted you there with me, to watch me growing up." Maybe there was a chance she would come out of this, to reach into the hidden heart of the father she never had an opportunity to know. "I wished you in my life, dad..."
He rose again, bringing himself fully erect once more. His hands, the claws of bone and tenuously held flesh extended out as he readied himself for a second attack. Sam tried to get to her own feet, pushing up from the floor with her hands, but her legs buckled beneath her, refusing to accept her command.
He moved, slowly taking one step after another as he stalked closer to her. Though what she said seemed to have an impact on him, it had not lasted.
A low noise at her side began to drone, growing in volume until her addled mind recognized it as a growl. It rose in pitch until a great hiss and yowl followed. A pressure against her leg distracted her more.
The revenant of her father did not even glance at the tiny creature standing his ground guarding her, but reached out to touch Sam's right cheek. It was not a gentle caress.
One finger extended from the skeletal hand, the scent of death once again filling her nostrils from the nearness of it. She turned her head and tried to scrabble her body away, but the other arm shot out and slammed into the wall, blocking her from going that way. Bits of plaster and paint scattered at the impact.
The claw scraped across. Sam squinted her eyes against the touch, so cold it burned as the long nail traced the lines of the side of her face. Even when she was attacked in the field, he was not so solid.
Specks of decay dropped from him, dripping onto her clothes. A moment later they dissolved into nothingness, fading from existence.
Revulsion struck her again as she felt flakes of her own skin prying from her body. She strained her face to the side again, trying to get withdraw from the touch of the claw, but could not avoid it. He was in control.
Percy jumped up, a ball of fur and claws of his own, as he dug into the arm against the wall, throwing himself against the bones and bits of flesh. Her father pulled himself back again but did not step away.
He dropped his arms as Percy used his grip to rise further, inching higher as he bit and tore into whatever he could grab.
Sam took the freedom to push the creature, too, shoving with her hands against his chest. The sway in him she caused gave the impetus she needed to stand and inch from him, her back pressed into the wall behind her.
Percy jumped down as he reached his free hand to the furry form and grabbed. The cat hit the floor and backed away again, leaning so low his belly scraped the carpet. Sam glanced at him only for a moment before fixing on her father once more.
She put her palm on her chest, the
aching there almost too intense now for her to breathe. "All I wanted was for you to love me," she said, her voice gasping and heavy.
All movement in the revenant stopped.
His body stood stock-still as the glow in his eyes flared brighter, piercing into her from the few feet separating them. The only noise was her own grating breath and the growl that began again in earnest from Percy.
She did not move, did not want to break whatever was happening and cause him to come at her again. Her body, weak and exhausted already, was wracked with agony, all centered on the spot in her chest where her father invaded her.
Finally, a sigh came from him as the burning red in the sockets that once contained his gentle eyes faded to nothing.
The next moment, the revenant disappeared, an audible pop following in its wake as the body that seemed so solid mere seconds before dissolved into the ether.
Sam stayed against the wall for a long time after, wary and waiting for when he would fade in again, to grasp her once more and take her life for good.
Finally, she slumped to the carpet and let her head rest against her arms.
Percy rubbed himself between her limbs until he, too, came to a stop, sitting next to her with a soft purr.
Chapter 30
Samantha sipped the cup of coffee, her groggy brain trying to catch up with being awake once more.
She leaned against the kitchen table, the cold wood feeling good. Her house was too hot; small beads of sweat drifted down her face.
Or was it something else? She did not bother getting up to try to find the thermometer, but maybe, after all that happened to her the past few days, she was running a fever.
She pressed her forearm to her head, but it felt no different to her than any other part of her body.
She took a deep breath, while her arm landed back on the table, flopping harder than she intended.
The ache in her chest troubled her. The attack in the night, the things done to her without her being able to fight, scared her. Although there were no wisps, no traces of the black smoke that came from her anymore, the fact they had appeared at all could not be ignored.
What made it happen? Was it a product of the thing that was her father's touch? Or did he truly leave something, some part of himself behind, inside of her? Sam put her hand to her chest and coughed a little, trying to bring up everything that might be trapped within herself up, but nothing came.
But the ache was there, and the dread coursing through her veins as her body woke was from much more than fear alone. He really had left something behind, and that something was inexorably sickening her.
What had the day before been only a caress at the back of her mind, a flighty thought that went away as fast as it had come, was now undeniable to her. That was the hell of it. The rapidity was shocking, pressed on by her encounter with the terrible event in the night.
Her father had, without her permission, without her being able to fight it, invaded her. He left something behind that was, Sam was sure of it, destroying her. Was it even now devouring her from the inside out? Was she doomed to the same fate as he? Was she to wake one day with no body and become the horror he was now, unstoppably in search of her next victim to feast upon?
Another sip went down bitterly as the words Mortimer and Tamara spoke came back to her. Her mother, the beautiful soul she was, endured a slow and painful death after darkness tinged her. Was Sam now subject to the same?
She remembered a phrase she heard on television one night, an adage that stuck with her, and it held more meaning for her now than it ever had before. More real, more tangible, than she could have imagined.
"We are born to die, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Even as a kid, it struck her with a sense of mortality, and when her mother was in her own process of meeting the open grave, Sam's mind echoed it.
And now? Now she was living it, herself. Every minute, the yawning hole she would come to on her trip from the cradle screamed in silence. Her relentless crawl would end there, and it was all due to her father, a man she so much wanted to have be a part of her life.
Well, he was now. What could she do about it?
The world outside her window pane reflected what she was feeling internally. The sun seemed dimmer, somehow, than she thought it should be. No clouds, no overcast to diminish the light shining down, but, still, the color of the world away from her comfortable nook was lessened.
There was more green yesterday, right? Her jumbled thoughts turned about inside, trying to latch on to some sense of what the day before had been like, but all that would come was one horrible moment after another.
There was no aura of the flavor of how things should be; too much disconnection all around.
Then the thought of the world looking drained because she, herself, was, came to her. When it did, she realized that was exactly what she saw. She was sure of it.
Her own being, her very life force, was being ripped from her, sucked away every time she encountered her parent, and, now that she was so far into his grip, she was left with her shell becoming useless.
Despair imposed its will through her veins and her eyes boggled at the thought. How much longer could she go on?
She shoved the burden aside, berating herself for wasting time and energy when she could and should do something, anything, she could to fight what was happening to her.
As she packed a second bottle of water into her backpack, Sam had to keep reminding herself she would get through this. There were things she could do, could accomplish, that could lead her safely on the other side.
But time was, as always, a factor, and she had to do what she could quickly, before the evil came for her again.
If he did, she might be lost for good.
Bag in hand, she walked to her car, staring at the world around her once again in wonder at how different things seemed. Even the sounds of life in the trees and the scattered bushes was muted, reaching her as if she was at the end of a long tunnel listening in to a place that was not her own.
The car's engine turned over easily, revving up as she flipped the radio off. The blithe music playing she did not want to deal with, but it had been left on when she pulled up to her house the last evening.
Even it seemed strange. The dissonance in it was different than the song she remembered it to be, proving, once more, she was experiencing something she did not understand.
Far better to just turn it off and concentrate on what she needed to do.
The advantage of living in a town as small as Tanglewood was that she could cross through the whole thing rapidly. It took her only a few minutes longer than normal since the passage of people heading to work blocked her way in some places.
She did not mind. It let her gather her thoughts before she would reach the place Lucy described in her fervent meeting during the night.
For a brief flash, she considered stopping in at the police station to see if Bart was there. She might need his company during her investigation, but thought better of it as she passed it by.
For all she knew, if he were to come along - and after what she experienced with him recently, that was a big if - he would probably just take things over for himself and leave her holding the bag. Or, worse, actually impede what was required.
Still, she stared at the building as she crossed by, and wondered if, after all was said and done, there would be any way for them to come to a reconciliation. Mad as she was at him, frustrated as she was with the entire situation, she loved him.
That had to be worth something. Maybe it would help open the door to harmony.
But that was for another time and place. For now, she had to focus on what she had to do to survive. One more hour, one more day. Who knew how much she really had?
When she came to the spot Lucy described - the broken fence line along the road marked it - Sam sat for a few moments before shutting the car down. She closed her eyes and prayed to the God she was always told about but never f
ully believed in.
Was He listening? Was there anything on the other side willing to help her cut through the darkness within which she was trapped?
She felt no better when she was done, but the action still gave her impetus to move.
She slipped the keys into her coat pocket and grabbed the backpack from the passenger seat. She slung it over her shoulders and shut the car door before turning to the broken fence and taking the first step.
