The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves

by Richard Heredia

  He gave her hand a quick shake, prying her from her thoughts. Her eyes peered into his, seeing he was pointing behind her with his chin, toward the door. She turned at once, fear suddenly blossoming.

  Both of the doors were open. No, they’ been thrown asunder with incredible force. They were splintered and cracked, imbedded into the walls on either side of the threshold. She hadn’t heard a sound.

  She saw it, a face of roiling cloud, its eyes glowing red, eyes she’d seen before, months ago, high in the sky, dominating the heavens for a second, before it had vanished.

  {It was on Interstate-40, we had been driving, my whole family on the move from Holbrook, Arizona to Los Angeles, California. Good god, it seemed like a lifetime ago, maybe it had been a different person altogether. Maybe, it…}

  He cupped her chin, coercing her vision away from the hideous vision glaring at them from the large doorway. She gazed at him as he looked down into her eyes with a soft, gentle look of his own.

  {Wait, what is this…?}

  He upturned her head so she could look at him more directly. She didn’t resist. In fact, she encouraged the intimacy, basking in the familiarity of his touch. She let her body melt into his, feeling warm in the pit of her stomach. He was so handsome, though he didn’t seem like the type of guy who flaunted it, used it to his advantage. To her, he merely was what he was.

  He bent down, his shoulders hunching as he moved forward.

  She felt with her hands, again upon the small of his back, push him forward even more, into her, a building pressure, a needy clutch between them. She could feel the maleness of him growing, firming.

  {What the hell is this? This is not how it is supposed to happen!}

  She felt his other hand come up from the side, reaching up through the roots of her hair to the nape of her neck. She shuddered with delight. No boy had ever touched her with such a smoothing, confident caress. She exhaled, mentally surrendering. Unaware they were there, her inhibitions fell way. She knew right then, right there, even with the horrid monstrosity screaming at them, though it made no sound. Its’ mouth was shaped into a macabre looking “O”, but nothing issued forth.

  She ignored it. She knew she wanted more of him – all of him.

  {NO, no, no, I don’t know him! I don’t want him! I don’t want his lips on mine, his body against me!}

  They kissed. It was a long, slow exploratory meeting of their lips and tongues - tasting, sharing. It was a wonderful first time. She felt her heart burst open and reveal itself to her, flushing her chest, her neck, and her cheeks.

  He is a wonderful kisser! she couldn’t stop the thought.

  {No… please. I don’t know him.}

  Though, they hadn’t stopped kissing, though their bodies didn’t part, she heard him speak. How she’d been able, she would never know.

  “I am Andrew”

  He said it again and again and again… in her mind, in her soul. All she wanted was to know even more.

  {Andrew? Do I know you?}

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 78 ~

  Stolen

  Day Four, Sunday, 6:49 am…

  He wasn’t quite sure what had awakened him. His mind was still foggy with sleep. Had it been a scraping sound, a bump or something moving? He couldn’t rightly guess. Yet, before he could really think it through, ponder why he awoke so early, he was presented with another, more immediate issue. It was below his waist - Joaquin Barrientos had to pee - badly!

  He uncovered himself, rolled off the “bed”, slow and quiet, unwilling to disturb the three other boys he’d slept amongst. Gaining his feet, he glanced around frantically for his boots, because the rocky floor of the cave was ice cold. He found them where he had left them at the corner of the bedding and swiftly crept over to them. His feet were already cramping in his socks. He had only been walking upon the ground for five seconds.

  God damn, the floor is freezing! he thought as he slipped into them and began to walk awkwardly toward the privy crack, his bladder about to burst.

  As he went, wrapped himself in one of the throw blankets he had slept in. He noticed Mr. Patas “standing” watch near the entrance to the cave.

  The rest of the Fist slept near the fire pit. The fire itself still smoldering, reduced to a copious amount of red-hot coals, piled high and emanating enough heat the air about the cave was cool, but not cold or absolutely frigid as was the cave floor.

  He could make out the four huge bodies of their protectors. They were breathing deeply and sedately. He knew it would take no more than the drop of a pin and all four of them would be on their feet, at the ready - from unconscious to full awareness in seconds.

  His head turned back toward the rabbit-man, sitting on the floor, his back leaning up against the rock wall of their sanctuary. Joaquin waved in silence, acknowledging him, but not at the risk of waking the others just yet, but Mr. Patas didn’t reply in kind. He made no move at all and merely sat there, resting his head against the stone wall of the cave, his ears drooping down to either side, his mouth slightly open.

  Was he asleep?

  Joaquin frowned, slowing for a half a second before he thought better of it. His entire abdomen was aching. He quickly ducked into the homemade bath stall and relieved himself, a bit self-conscious at the amount of noise was emanating from the thick stream issuing forth from his body. But what could he do? When you had to go, you had to go.

  But why was Mr. Patas asleep? None of the Fist ever slept when they were keeping watch.

  Still immersed in thought, he used the hand sanitizer someone had left near the exit, smiling because he was certain it had been little Elena who had done it. She was always so taciturn and thorough with nearly everything she did. He could see her quite easily divining the need for cleanliness after using the “toilet” and going about in search of something that would solve the problem. She was a smart, cute little girl, always ready with a smile or a witty jape. There was always a sparkle at the corner of her young eyes, letting them all of know there was a very powerful mind behind them.

  Well, at least, he could see it when she trained those brilliant, light-brown eyes on him. He could already see some of the strong willed, if not beautiful woman, she’d grow up to be.

  At least, he had faith they would all grow up, outlive the incredible forces arrayed against them.

  “She is the Illuminai, the maestro of the Light, of all forms of light, every type - flame, electric, incandescent, nuclear. Whichever sort, she is its master. She alone has command.”

  He shook his head at the thoughts that weren’t his own, though he was in utter agreement. After the Kring-Hël and the Elemental - whoever that may be - Elena would be the strongest of the Twelve, her Gift would shake the Melded World. He didn’t need his Gift to tell him this was the truth.

  “She will save you time and time again.”

  He let the thought that was not his pass. He let the silence in his head grow.

  What we need is for the rest of us to discover our own gifts, he thought. We need to get things moving. We need to make progress. This enemy of ours is light-years ahead of us in terms of power. He’s had centuries of experience at this sort of thing. What can we possibly do against such strength were we to meet them upon the field of battle? They had no more than primitive weapons they could forge with their hands. How would we survive?

  We need to get moving!

  He saw the titles once again in his head as if scribed by a medieval monk with a long flowing script:

  The Kring-Hël – the Light of the World.

  The Üllimëntai – the Base from which All is Made.

  The Illuminai – the Maestro of the Light.

  The My-Ėind – the Vessel of Knowledge.

  The Isig-Hövan – the Lord/Lady of the Heavens.

  The Tükir – the Mind of Minds.

  The Blytz – the Tower of Strength.

  The Flĕsch – the Quick and the Flash.

  The Skëi-Van �
� the Lord/Lady on the Wind.

  The Chymerae – the Changeling Light.

  The Apithükri – the Hands of Health.

  The Lükk – the Harbinger of Chance.

  Already we know who were the Quick and the Flash, and of course, the Maestro of the Light. I’m the Knowledge, but still we have nine more to go and four more members to find. We’ve been in the Melded World for four days and all we have been able to do is sit tight and wait, while we eat, talk, fart, crap, eat, piss and sleep and not one damned thing else. There is still so much to do!

  He glanced about the cave, noticing for the first time Mr. Patas’ head was lolling to one side, his tongue dangling at the corner of his mouth. What the hell? There was no denying it now. The rabbit-man had fallen asleep! Incredible, thought Joaquin. How could he leave us so open and unguarded like that..?

  Wait, why hadn’t another of the Fist come to relieve him if he was that tired?

  Mr. Patas huge ears bounced and bobbed every time he breathed, long, deep draughts of air as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

  That sort of rankled Joaquin’s nerves, not only at a loss for such lack of focus, but why had the whole Fist let them down?

  He glanced back at the remainder of the Fist stretched or lazed about the floor, letting his eyes roam amongst them as he became more accustomed to the dimly lit cave. Even from his vantage, he could hear the deep, bassatones of the bear-dogs as they slept, the low-level snore of Mugzy and...

  That’s when he saw Garfield and was so shocked, his jaw cracked in his skull. It was an even more disturbing sight than seeing Mr. Patas asleep when he was supposed to be protecting them. The huge feline was lying flat on his back, all four of his legs sticking up, bent at the paws. It was how a newborn kitten would sleep, but not a fully matured, seven hundred pound monster of a cat.

  His frown deepened. The first inklings something was wrong began to fire across his consciousness. What’s going on…? His eyes continued to dance about the cave, taking stock, evaluating. He came upon his seven companions – all of them angled this way and that about the two temporary beds. His eyes fell upon the slumbering Anthony, who should’ve been spooning with Sophie, the boy behind the girl, his arm draped over her body. It was how he’d seen them late last night when he’d come to bed. They slept like boyfriend and girlfriend now. He remembered thinking, even in their sleep; they didn’t want to be far from one another. The thought had brought a wry smile to his face. Clarisse had flashed before his eyes and his heart lurched with longing. That was why the thought had remained with him, because of Clarisse; the girl he knew one day would be his, if he survived. He hoped. He prayed.

  The evening prior, he had stared at them for a few heartbeats, thinking, Anthony, my friend, you might be the savior of all the worlds, but with a girl like Sophie Reed hounding your heels, in the end I think you’ll do whatever she wants. She will have you wrapped around her little finger in a flash. He had shaken his head. At least, she’s a good kid and won’t break your heart, you lucky bastard! Then, he had lied down and promptly fell asleep.

  But that wasn’t the case now. What he saw now was completely different. Anthony laid akimbo, half on and half off the makeshift bed, the lower portions of his body still upon it, but his entire upper half was strewn upon the icy cold floor of the cave, one arm outstretched as if he were reaching out for something as he slept.

  He took a few steps forward, unsure of what to do. He saw something move out of the corner of his left eye. Instinctively, he stopped and turned to look. There should’ve been nothing other than the eight of them and the Fist moving with the confines of the cave. This wasn’t them. His brow tightened with dread as he rounded upon the sight.

  It was movement.

  He realized, a split second later, it was the heavy furniture pad they’d placed over the entrance of the cave. It was moving, bulging slightly as though something was pushing against it from the other side.

  What in hell?

  Then he saw it – something cylindrical and thick, almost as thick as his thigh. It was a molted, sickly, puke color with long coarse filaments that looked like hair at first, but were far too thick to be merely pili-ish.

  Oh shit, what the fuck is that thing? Is it trying to get in… or out…?

  He glanced back toward Anthony, frozen in place, fear creeping up his back and immobilizing him as another even more terrifying thought bubbled and popped in his brain.

  Where’s Sophie?

  The question hung in the air, before his mind’s eyes – furious, searing. Time seemed to slow. Each breath seemed to take a minute. There were three second pauses between each eye blink, ten seconds between each beating of his heart, a half-minute before he could move a muscle.

  His eyes flicked back toward the hanging furniture pad.

  The thing was gone.

  His eyes fell back to Anthony once more.

  His orbs bounced to Garfield, lying so ridiculously on the ground.

  The question came again. Where’s Sophie?

  Suddenly, it all added up!

  SOMETHING TOOK SOPHIE!!!

  “Wake up! Wake up! Everyone, wake the fuck up! Something took Sophie!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Mr. Patas shook as if he’d been electrocuted.

  Garfield literally flipped onto his feet from his back, so fast Joaquin’ eyes couldn’t follow the great cat’s movements, though the sound of his huge claws screeched against the cold stone of the cave floor. A jaw-straining screech echoed throughout the cave, making Joaquin’s ears ring painfully.

  He ignored the buzzing in his head, continuing to yell, pointing toward the mouth of the cave just as something behind it pushed inward for a second time. The large teenager lunged for the blanket, wild with the thought Sophie may be hurt.

  In a flash, Mr. Patas was at his side, the loud scrape of his gigantic toenails against the stone floor rousing everyone that hadn’t already been awakened by the racket of the great feline.

  Garfield followed a heartbeat later, his long razor-sharp claws fully extended, rasping and scratching. It was no longer about being stealthy.

  At that moment, Joaquin understood, if they’d been discovered, then this would be a fight to the death, silence was no longer necessary.

  “Patas what do you see?” came the rumbling question from Kodiak, like boulders churning in her throat.

  “The blanket covering the entrance is moving… from the outside, in,” he answered at once as the huge bear-dogs came forward.

  “Daughter, you and Mugzy have the children,” was all she said as the rest of the Fist moved forward in unison.

  Kenai and the man-dog stood before the sleeping area where rest of the Twelve were sitting up, rubbing sleep from their eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Mr. Patas used an arm to put Joaquin behind him as Garfield took the point, the rabbit-man and the bear-dog flanking him.

  “What’s happening, Kenai?” Mikalah said in a sharp, piping voice, shaking with fear.

  Joaquin heard the bear-dog mumble something to the girl, but couldn’t make it out. His focus was forward. His vision was riveted to the furniture pad as it moved almost unperceptively at first, billowing of a sudden. As a group, they all braced for an attack…

  This is it! he thought just as…

  “Fist ready!” shouted Kodiak, the cave resounding painfully with her booming voice.

  That was when he saw something he’d been longing to see for some days now. The breath caught in his chest as the heavy blanket ballooned inward, curling onto itself, so a tiny portion of what lay beyond was visible. It was only a sliver, but it was enough to discern – sunlight.

  The Sun!

  They all froze for a second time, still unsure of what to do.

  Then came a growl, deep, from a huge chest. It wasn’t like one any of the Fist would make.

  Garfield lunged forward, his claws scraping the entire way until, in an incredibly fast motion, he plunge
d them into the fabric and pulled the entire blanket down from its’ moorings.

  Joaquin saw the massive muscles in Garfield’s flanks go rigid with shock. The large teen edged his way forward, pushing Mr. Pata’s protective hand aside. He was just in time to see the long rope-like thing slither the remainder of the way up and over the barrier of snow that had drifted so high within the passage, it had filled it to capacity. He couldn’t help but notice the stained pink jeans and the white socks with bright blue soles that Sophie had worn since her arrival onto the Melded World.

  “Oh my god, a Crawling Creep…,” he muttered under his breath, but, that was all he had time to say.

  As they watched the bizarre creature disappear, another replaced it. It was a dog about the size of a German Sheppard. Only it was black with the short hair of a Rottweiler and the musculature to match. Yet, it was clearly not a dog of that specific breed. Its’ jaws were too wide, its’ teeth and fangs were too long. Its’ face, when they stared at it closely, didn’t seem all that dog-like. Its’ snout was pushed-in. Its’ nose was arched, prominent, a forehead and chin distinct features about its’ skull.

  Joaquin scowled, a solitary thought coming to mind. It looks like the deformed head of a man.

  Then, thoughts that weren’t his own washed over him. Isig-Pjäs – the dog-like overlords of the Hël-Hünds; can only be controlled by the will of a Prēost or a Dēowulf; extremely smart, near man-like intelligence; extremely dangerous.

  It was standing there upon the rocky barrier concealing the cave, a very unsettling, very human-like grin on its’ face. It was looking at them with insane glee.

  “I’ve seen that thing before!” yelled Anthony from further back in the cave, pointing, stepping forward.

  “Stay back!” commanded Kenai, her voice a near roar.

  “At last, I have found you,” rasped the terrible beast through a vicious snarl.