by Amy Cross
Finally, filled with panic, I turn and rush into the nearest bedroom, before slamming the door shut and taking a step back. I can still hear Friendly groaning downstairs, but Meanie is still right outside the door and I'm pretty sure he's going to use this opportunity to come at me. Heading over to the window, I fumble with the latch for a moment before pulling it open, and I immediately feel cold rain blowing against my face.
A moment later, something slams against the door behind me. Turning, I realize that Meanie is already trying to break through, so I lean out the window and see that there's nothing below except a sheer drop to the mud. Just as I'm trying to figure out some other way to get down, however, I hear the door crashing open behind me. I hear a furious roar filling the air, and in that fraction of a second I know with absolute certainty that he's come to kill me.
I don't even have time to turn and look.
I simply clamber out the window and jump, hoping against hope that the mud will cushion my landing.
Six
Letting out a cry of pain, I stumble forward and grab hold of another tree, steadying myself as cold morning rain falls all around. I've been walking for hours now, ever since I escaped from the farmhouse, but my right leg is agonizing and I'm not sure I can take another step.
There are tears in my eyes as I sink down to the ground and lean against the side of the tree. My body feels so heavy, dragging me down further.
This might be where I die.
I'm breathless, and in so much pain, and it's not even as if I've got anywhere to go. My choices are to keep walking and eventually drop, or to just wait here for the end. At least if I stopped here, I might have time to prepare myself a little. To think back to happier times, to make my peace, and to try to scrape a little dignity from the situation. I've never been the kind of person who rails and pushes to extremes. I want a peaceful death.
Slowly, I slump down against the mud.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper out loud, as I close my eyes and let my head dip forward until my chin is resting against my chest. “I'm so sorry. I screwed everything up.”
For a moment, even though I'm still semi-awake, my mind drifts back to the day when the creatures first arrived. I see Dad yelling at me to get back into the house with Debbie, and I see my trembling hands as I first picked up the rifle. I hear the sound of Dad's neck being shattered, and I hear Debbie's final scream. I want to tell them that I'm sorry, that I should have immediately avenged their deaths instead of falling into an uneasy truce with two more of the creatures, but I know deep down that it's too late to apologize.
I let myself become a pet. I took the easy way out. With my eyes still closed, I wait for death to come and take me away from this nightmare. I feel so ashamed.
“Get up,” a voice sneers suddenly, as I feel something nudging against my shoulder.
Opening my eyes, I see a pair of legs next to me. I struggle to lift my head, but finally I find myself staring up at Frank's battered face. His left cheek looks broken, as if the bone was shattered and pushed inward, and his left eye is nothing but a bloodshot ball with a patch of black in the center.
“Get up!” he hisses, kicking my arm again. “I've been following you since you left the farm last night. Where the hell do you think you're going?”
“Nowhere,” I whisper. “I can't move. I'm done.”
“No chance,” he replies. “Did the creatures die? I wounded the one downstairs, but the flesh around its throat was much thicker than I expected, so I didn't get the spear's tip all the way in. It fought back, but I think I got it good. Did it at least die after I ran?”
“I don't know,” I tell him. “It was in pain. I heard that.”
“What about the other one? Did you get it?”
“I just ran,” I reply, thinking back to the sight of him racing away across the yard. “You ran too. You left me there.”
“We're not brothers in arms,” he points out. “I ran 'cause I knew I'd be dead if I didn't. At least this way, we get to live and fight another day, maybe even go back and finish them off if they're injured. And I definitely hurt that thing, so I'm pretty sure I'm on the right lines with my theory.” He hesitates, before kicking my arm again, harder this time. “Come on, get up. We're not finished yet!”
“I can't stand up,” I reply, as I feel my head getting heavier. “I just need to sleep. I just -”
Before I can finish, he reaches down and grabs me by the shoulders. I let out a gasp of pain as he hauls me up, and then I immediately start to slip as he lets go. He grabs me again, and this time I feel a pulsing sense of pain in my right hip as he shoves me against the tree and holds me up for a few seconds.
“If you go down again,” he says firmly, “I'll cut your goddamn throat right here. Understood?”
I open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a faint gasp.
A moment later, he lets go of me. I try to stay standing, but my hip hurts too much and I quickly slump back down to the ground.
“Pathetic,” he mutters, crouching next to me and grabbing my chin, turning my head and forcing me to look up at him. “I guess the human race doesn't need weaklings like you, Rachel. Obviously you don't have what it takes to fight. I told you earlier that I wouldn't let on to others about how you became a goddamn pet, but I've changed my mind. After you're dead, I'm gonna tell everyone I meet all about you, so they understand how low people can get. You disgust me, just like you'll disgust all of them too. You'll be an example of what not to do.”
“Get it over with,” I whisper.
“What? This?” He holds his knife up, letting the blade glint in the morning light. “Are you begging for death now? Are you that pathetic?”
“Do it!” I gasp. “I was going to die here anyway.”
“Did they have a little doggie bowl for you?” he continues with a grin. “Did they put a collar and lead on you and take you for walks?”
Closing my eyes, I wait for him to cut my throat. I know it's going to hurt, and I guess there'll be a moment of horror, but at least then I'll be able to get away from this cruel world. Maybe Dad and Debbie'll be waiting for me in a better place, or maybe I'll just sink into a void of nothingness, but at least -
“Hey!”
Slapping the side of my face, Frank tilts my face up and forces my left eye open. At the same time he presses his thumb against my broken jaw, causing me to cry out.
“Painful, huh?” he sneers.
“Stop!” I gasp, feeling as if he might snap my jaw in two at any moment. “Please!”
“You've been avoiding pain all this time,” he continues. “How did that work out for you?”
“Stop!” I try to reach up and move his hand away, but I don't have the strength.
“Pathetic bitch,” he mutters, suddenly letting go as tears start streaming down my face. “I've never met anyone so weak in all my life.”
“I'm sorry,” I stammer. “Please, I'm so sorry...”
“Did you really think it'd be that easy?” he asks. “You might be worthless and pathetic, but I can still use you. A live human is a valuable resource. Like you said before, food's not easy to come by in the wild. Now, I'm a good man, not a monster, but sometimes good men have to do bad things if they want to survive. And you've got a lot of meat on you.”
He runs the blade against the side of my throat, and for a moment he seems lost in thought. At the same time, his other hand reaches down and grabs my belly, squeezing me tight before moving up to feel my left breast and then the top of my arm.
“I had to do it once before, with a body I found at the side of the road. I cooked the meat so it didn't taste like anything bad, and then I forced myself to not think about what I was doing. I reckon I'm gonna do the same to you, Rachel. It's just a matter of mind over matter. When you're desperate enough, you can even -”
Before he can finish, there's a brief rustling sound nearby. We both turn and look toward the forest, but there's no sign of anything moving.
“W
hat was that?” Frank whispers, and he sounds worried.
I keep watching the trees for a moment, but I don't see anyone. Still, the sound was too loud to be caused by the wind, and I doubt any wild animals would come this close.
“It can't be them,” Frank continues. “They don't track their prey. They're too lazy, too sedate. There's no way they'd come this far from the farmhouse.”
My mind feels foggy and I can barely think straight, but after a few seconds it suddenly occurs to me that the sound might have been a distraction.
I turn back to Frank.
He's looking the wrong way.
I should warn him.
Suddenly a large shape crashes into view, slamming into Frank and lifting him up with such force that he immediately drops the knife.
Startled, I watch as Friendly raises Frank high up into the air. Frank cries out, but it's a cry that's cut brutally short as Friendly slams him against one of the trees. Before I can see any more, however, I hear another roar nearby, and I turn just as Meanie comes crashing through the forest, crying out and lunging straight for me.
I grab the knife, but Meanie quickly lifts me up by the throat and swings me around. Staring down at his hideous face, I see his thousands of needle-like teeth as he opens his mouth wide, and now the stench is unbearable. A moment later he closes his mouth and pulls me closer, as if he wants to take one last look at me before he finishes me off. I let out a gasp of pain, but he's holding my throat so tight that I can barely breathe. Somehow I manage to swing my legs around and kick him, even though he doesn't even seem to notice.
“What are you?” I gurgle. “I just want to know before I die. Where do you come from?”
He lets out another loud roar, blasting me with a hot rush of foul-smelling breath. It takes a moment before I realize that I'm still holding the knife, and then suddenly Meanie turns and looks over at Friendly. The other creature is tearing Frank's body apart, but I know this is going to be my only chance to strike.
Tightening my grip on the knife, I reach forward and use the last of my strength to plunge the blade into Meanie's throat. I hear him let out an immediate cry of pain, but I simply dig the blade deeper and deeper into his flesh until even my hand has slipped all the way into the bloody wound. A moment later he falls back and lets go out my throat, but I cling onto the knife and fall with him, landing on his chest and making sure that I don't let the blade slip loose. I thought I had no strength left at all, but I manage to push the knife even further into his throat, and now I can feel hot blood rushing against my wrists. I let out a cry of pain, but Meanie is already struggling a little less and finally I close my eyes and lean further forward, burying my arms up to the shoulders in his clammy flesh as I twist the knife through the meat of his throat.
If I die, then he dies too.
He lets out one final groan of pain, and then he falls still and quiet.
Still not daring to let go, I continue to twist the knife as hard as I can manage, although a moment later I slip and let go, falling off his chest and landing hard against the forest floor. Rolling onto my back, I wait for the inevitable strike, but instead I find myself staring up at the gray morning sky.
For a few seconds, there's nothing but silence.
Finally the ground shudders slightly as Friendly stomps toward me. He's still holding part of Frank's tattered body, but he drops the remaining pieces as he leans closer to Meanie.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper, struggling to keep my eyes open as I feel myself getting weaker and weaker. “I had to fight back. I had to...”
Friendly stares at me for a moment, as my eyes finally slip shut. A moment later, I feel something reaching under my chest and I'm slowly lifted from the forest floor and up into the cold air.
Seven
When I open my eyes, I find that I'm somewhere dark and dry and warm. I blink a couple of times, convinced that I must still be out in the forest, but I think I can just about make out the ceiling in my room back at the farmhouse.
I can't be here.
I must be dead.
Rain is still falling outside, lashing the window. I turn and look over at the glass, just as a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the dark yard. A rumble of thunder follows, after which the only sound comes once more from falling rain. For a moment, it occurs to me that I really have died, and that this is some kind of purgatory. After just a few seconds, however, I feel the first stir of pain in my shattered body and I realize that somehow, miraculously, I seem to have survived.
I try to sit up, but a rush of pain immediately crackles up my spine and I let out a gasp as I settle back against the bed. When I try again, the same thing happens, then again and again until I have no choice but to pause and try to think of another approach. Reaching down with my hands, I touch my legs, but I don't seem to have any sensation below the waist.
I'm alive.
I must have been carried back to the farmhouse.
I wait, listening to the sound of falling rain, and then a moment later I hear a very faint creaking sound far off in the house. I stay silent for a few more minutes, until eventually I hear the sound again.
“Hello?” I gasp, although my throat is impossibly dry and the word sounds more like a pained croak.
I swallow hard, trying to muster the strength to try again.
“Hello?” I call out, and a moment later I hear the creaking sound again, followed by something bumping against the stairs.
I look around, but there's nothing I can use as a weapon. I wish I'd kept hold of the knife, but it's most likely still embedded in Meanie's throat. Before I can even begin to think of something else that might be useful, I hear the bedroom door swinging open, and I turn to see that Friendly is ducking through the doorway and entering the room. There's barely any light in here, but I can just about make out the side of his face. He's moving more slowly than usual, more cautiously.
“What do you want from me?” I stammer, trying to once again to sit up but still not feeling my legs. Tears are in my eyes now and I'm struggling to keep from panicking. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
I watch as he lumbers, and finally he stops next to the bed. I still can't see him very well in the darkened room, but he seems to be simply staring down at me. I can't believe that he'd bring me all this way, only to kill me as soon as I wake up, but I can't imagine what else he'd be planning. At the same time, as he continues to stare, I can't help wondering whether he might be about to...
No.
That's dumb.
He's not going to speak. He's never going to speak.
“I can't feel my legs,” I whimper, as tears run down my cheeks. “Do you understand? I can't feel anything below my waist. I don't think I'm going to be able to walk again.”
I wait, but he doesn't respond.
Outside, there's another flash of lightning, and I'm briefly able to see Friendly's large, dark eyes before the room returns to darkness. A rumble of thunder follows almost immediately, shaking the glass in the window.
“I can't move,” I continue, as I wipe my eyes. “Please, you have to understand. I'm broken. There's nothing I can do, and I don't want to stay like this. I'm just -”
Before I can finish, Friendly leans down and releases a fresh torrent of the foul-smelling paste next to the bed. After a moment he stands up straight again and then he waits, as if he expects me to eat.
“I can't even reach that,” I tell him. “You don't understand, do you?”
I reach down and touch my legs again.
“They don't work!” I yell, as fresh tears run down my face. “He broke my back! My legs don't work and I can't walk again! I can't do anything! I'm not -”
Before I'm able to finish, Friendly lets out a faint groan and nudges the side of the bed, as if he's annoyed that I haven't eaten the paste yet.
“I can't reach it!” I shout. “I can't even get out of the bed!”
He groans again, a little louder this time.
“Stop
that!” I tell him. “Look at me! I'm a cripple, I'm not even -”
Suddenly he leans down and nudges the bed, tipping the frame over and sending me crashing to the ground. I let out a cry of pain as I land hard against the bare boards, and when I try in vain to sit up I feel my hands pressing against a puddle of gray paste. It's clear that he wants me to eat, even though my body is beyond help.
“There's no point!” I stammer through fresh tears. “Why eat when I can't do anything? You should have left me out there in the forest! I'd be dead by now!”
As if to reinforce the fact that he doesn't understand, Friendly reaches down and gently nudges the back of my head, forcing my face toward the paste. I try to fight back, but finally I figure that there's no point, so instead I take a mouthful of the disgusting goo. I can barely manage to swallow, and I already feel nauseous, and deep down I just want Friendly to get this over with and put me out of my misery. He doesn't seem to understand, however, so I simply eat the rest of the paste, trying to swallow it as fast as I can while fighting the urge to throw it all back up.
Once I'm done, I use my arms to roll myself onto my back and look up at Friendly.
“Are you happy?” I ask, just as another flash of lightning briefly lights the room and I see his mournful eyes. “Are you just going to torture me? Is that it? Are you going to keep me alive just so you can watch me suffer?”
I wait, but still he doesn't respond. His lip curls slightly, revealing his first row of teeth.
“I want to die!” I whimper. “Please, just let me die! Let me be -”
Suddenly he reaches down and grabs me by the shoulders, before lifting me up and putting me back on the bed. I feel a shock of pain in my spine, but there's still no sensation in my legs.
“That's not what I meant!” I yell. I try to wriggle free, but that's not exactly possible when I can't move anything below my waist. Even as Friendly arranges me carefully on the bed, I try punching him away, but he keeps working until finally he takes a step back and once again towers above me.
He doesn't get it.
