Feral

by Serafini, Matt

  He pulled her closer. Feeling her skin on his relaxed him. Her trembling hands slid around his stomach. He relished her vulnerability. At last she was—human. This onslaught of helplessness aroused him, made him feel necessary. Elisabeth Luna needed him as much as he needed her. Their relationship was a symbiotic one at last.

  He kissed her hard, tasting salty tears.

  She recoiled, tearing free of him.

  "We have to go someplace."

  "What? Where?"

  "I haven't decided yet."

  "This is because of your old friend?"

  She nodded and looked ashamed.

  "It is. But only because I have decided that we should not be around him. I am a fool for not realizing his presence when I first arrived. He taunts me with memories from a life I have no desire to relive."

  "We don't have to run, Elisabeth. If your friend wants me, let me speak to him. We can straighten everything out."

  "How optimistic," she said, steadying herself against him so that the tips of their noses touched. "It doesn't work that way. It is better you get away from this place and all of its inhabitants."

  Allen wiped her tears with a swab of his index finger. She closed her eyes and allowed him to clean them away.

  "Tell me why we're leaving. I want to know everything about your past. Not just how you came to be like this."

  "Once we are away from Greifsfield, I will. What matters to me now is that you are with me. Speaking with Fane taught me something...I am in love with you, Allen."

  No romance in his life had ever resulted in that phrase. Molly had said it from time to time and, after a while, he'd said it back. It was entirely meaningless on both their parts. She'd used it once their relationship had passed the point of no return—a transparent move, even by her standards—and he said it to keep up appearances. To hear it pass through Elisabeth's mouth was striking music to his newly heightened ears. Butterflies fluttered in his gut while his knees got weak and gummy. Finally, he understood why so many people pursued what he would've sworn was the myth of love.

  He had it. And so what if he had to become a mythological creature to obtain it. This was tangible. No way was he going to let it go.

  And that's when the screen door exploded.

  ***

  The house was a large contemporary number that looked like it was built for someone with way too much money and not enough time to enjoy it.

  Must cost her a fortune to have this thing plowed in the winter, Jack thought.

  Amanda kept her distance—about six feet behind him, her hand tucked beneath her coat, fingers clasped around her gun.

  If she hadn't been responsible for saving him, he'd be wearier. As it was, she gave no reason to trust her. She'd been vague in detailing her career beyond claiming she was a PI. She acted the part about as much as she looked it, with yellow hair worn tight against her head, pulled into a small ponytail. Eyebrows were dark and angled, forcing a suitable look of constant mistrust upon her. Eyes were soft green and set perfectly against her golden skin. It wouldn’t take more than a little touch up work—some make up here, a change of wardrobe there—to turn some heads, but being bland meant blending in.

  Jack debated taking the steps that lead to the deck, a more natural flow considering the layout of the home. He wobbled, though, considering the path leading around to the front door as well. Amanda motioned to the stairs with her chin.

  Once they hit the top, Amanda tapped Jack's shoulder and signaled for him to halt with the palm of her hand. She lifted her head to the closest window and peered inside, taking point and slipping the handgun out of her coat.

  Jack didn't have time to question her actions before she opened fire.

  The entryway burst into shards, littering the deck with glass. Jack shielded his face from the shrapnel but Amanda didn't hesitate, stepping through the jagged jamb, weapon raised.

  Jack dashed across the crunchy splinters without a plan and jumped through the threshold in time to see Elisabeth straddling Allen on the couch at the center of the room. Their faces wore stunned surprise.

  The professional intruder didn't hesitate. She squeezed off two rounds. They popped from the silenced weapon with a double pft and pegged the black-haired woman square in the head. Bloody mist exploded in a cloud and her body dropped limp against Allen, and then collapsed headfirst to the floor. Her legs lay against the couch, pointed straight up while her arms folded behind her. Blood gulped from the exit wound like a busted spigot.

  Allen shot to his feet with horrified eyes. He didn't speak but his eyes found their way to Jack and landed upon him with betrayal.

  Amanda lined him in her sights.

  Allen couldn't have noticed. He fell to his knees and cradled Elisabeth's lifeless corpse like a defeated man.

  Jack took action before he had time to consider the consequences. He dove for Amanda's legs, tugging them together and knocking her off kilter. She tumbled forward with a surprised grunt, dropping onto the carpet behind the couch. Jack fell on top of her, shifting all his weight to keep her pinned. He started to open his mouth to tell Allen to run, that he'd fucked up by bringing this psycho killer here, but the butt of her gun smacked him between the eyes, his vision to go nuclear white.

  She pounded him in the same spot again and again. Jack fell aside, his nose leaking blood. He saw jagged movement through dazed eyes. Amanda struggled to her feet and he threw himself forward again. Amanda danced around his attack this time, succeeding in keeping one leg free of his grip.

  He twisted her boot with a snarl, throwing his shoulder into the assault. She toppled over the couch and the Glock dropped to the floor in front of him.

  "That's Allen." Jack's mouth was mush. His vision remained dim and unfocused. "Don't do it."

  Amanda sprung to the floor and recovered the weapon. Using the couch for cover, she steadied herself against it, drawing down on Allen.

  Jack went on the attack again, desperate to get this madwoman to stop shooting.

  But she was ready. Amanda pivoted, stepping backwards while hacking the gun down on his forehead.

  He fell flat on his face, the carpet an amiable pillow for which to slip into unconsciousness. His head throbbed even once his vision fell into focus. He'd been thrashed and desperately needed to sleep this off. This was his fault and he wasn't about to let Amanda pull the trigger on his friend.

  Jack pushed through the remaining fog, grabbing for Amanda with desperation. She stomped his head from somewhere above, forcing him back down into a mouthful of berber. He wouldn't stay there, though, clawing at her belt through the open slat in her coat. She reached for something outside his field of vision but there was no time to worry about that, using her belt to heave upward, grabbing hold of her trigger hand. Wobbly fingers curled around the slide, tugging the gun from her grip. It slipped from her fist as he now saw what she held in her free hand: a thick, gleaming blade that sliced down onto his forearm, drawing a stream of blood.

  Jack recoiled, her Glock now sitting in his hand.

  Amanda grunted, her fist slamming straight into his jaw. Jack spiraled over the couch, toppling onto the corpse of Elisabeth. The gun cluttered to the rug out of his view.

  Allen screamed in horror.

  "Elisabeth was a monster," Jack said, realizing the futility of his words as he choked the argument back in utter shock.

  What the hell is wrong with his face?

  Allen's mouth hung open, far wider than was possible. Veins in his neck pulsed violently, morphing into ready-to-burst bubbles.

  "He's one of them," Amanda said, coming around the couch to recover the pistol. She clung to the machete in her left hand, staring at the seizing Allen. "He needs to die."

  Allen's mouth dangled, offering a deep and ruddered growl.

  Amanda scooped the pistol as Jack leapt to his feet, positioning himself between the assassin and his friend.

  "Get out of my way," she said, fixing the gun on him.

  "You sa
ved me last night. For what? To shoot me now?"

  Amanda sidestepped him, locking onto Allen.

  Jack hoped she would. He balled his fist and popped her beneath her extended arm, the only vulnerable patch beneath her flak vest.

  Amanda lurched and Jack pushed forward again, her balance going askew. His weight, all 220 pounds of it, was enough to send her toppling backward, this time against the frame of shredded glass. Both weapons fell from her fists.

  Allen's growls were more severe as he fell to all fours, wincing in throes of pain. His back snapped as a serrated spinal column cracked up and grew from his furry mane. Those anguished groans were more akin to a wounded animal than a suffering human being.

  "You're not going to kill him," Jack said through his best tough guy bluff.

  Amanda looked between the two men and eyed the weapons at her feet.

  Jack pressed her against the pane of glass she hadn't fired at. Her heartbeat was strong enough to reverberate through her battle gear and jacket.

  "Stop it, damn you," he said.

  Her attention was focused not on Jack, but on the monster behind him. The noises worsening with each passing second.

  "You'd better be fast, dammit. We don't have much time."

  She batted through Jack's restraint and slipped out of the broken pane with surprising speed and precision. He took one last glance and caught Allen's jaw shattering into pieces, an animal's snout stretching from the center of his face. His eyes reshaped into swollen spheres that retained some familiarity while reiterating savagery.

  Jack ran.

  His head pounded and his throat wheezed as he bounded down the steps and broke into a full-on sprint in Amanda's wake. He felt an inch away from dropping into the dust for good. She was already at the edge of the driveway without looking back. If he couldn't catch her, she wouldn't hesitate to leave him behind.

  Oh shit...

  Jack staggered into the road as she slid behind the wheel. He shuffled along without breath as he hobbled toward the passenger's door.

  It was locked.

  "Please." He started to say, mustering only an accented wheeze. Her eyes were devoid of sympathy, his fate being weighed in her unfeeling glare. At last came the satisfying click of the automatic lock.

  The truck roared to life as he climbed into the cab and pulled the door shut. His head dropped back against the enveloping upholstery, sighing a tremendous breath of relief.

  I made it.

  Something hit the truck. Hard. The impact came on Jack's side, like the swing of a baseball bat. The blow provoked a spidering crack up the length of his window and the truck rose up, tilting onto two wheels before smacking down onto the tarmac.

  Jack screamed and slid away from the door as a massive, furry arm crashed through the weakened glass. Pointed talons slashed air an inch from his eyes.

  Amanda crushed the pedal, heaving Jack and the beastly attacker forward. Its arm retracted, raking back through the broken glass as the truck peeled out.

  She wasn't fast enough. The creature came down onto the hood of the truck perched on its hind legs—a big brown wolf with familiar eyes.

  Jack stared at it with disbelief,

  The wolf's attention was on Amanda, but her reflexes were good. She slammed the brakes as Jack buckled up beneath the safety belt. The creature stumbled backward while trying to lunge forward. Its claws cleaved through the windshield.

  Amanda hit the seat face down and missed the attack. The wolf fell forward as she threw the truck into reverse and gunned it. The creature slipped from the hood, its hind talons scraping paint from the hood like nails on a chalkboard.

  Then she pounded forward again taking aim at the wolf. "Die you son of a bitch!" she screamed.

  It sprinted off the road, disappearing into a thicket of trees lined along the road.

  Amanda rode on in silence, breathing heavy while Jack drifted in and out of consciousness, his head throttled by aching discomfort.

  They were quiet until they rolled into the Mountain View's parking lot. Williamstown was a welcome sight.

  "Jesus, you guys have an accident?"

  A guy wearing a tie-dyed shirt and a knitted cap bounced a hacky sack off his bare ankle while staring. His eyes were bloodshot and his beard looked as though it had never been groomed. He made an additional remark about breaking for unicorns, but it fell on unappreciative ears.

  "Fucking burnout," Amanda said.

  Jack followed her back to the room, eager to crash. The morning rolled through his head in vivid flashbacks that were impossible to comprehend, and he felt nauseous for his part in it. The image of Elisabeth's legs pointing upward beyond the couch refused to leave him. It was amazing that he could consider sleep after everything that his eyes had failed to fathom, but the pain was great and getting worse. He felt sluggish. Punch drunk.

  He already had one foot in dreamland.

  Amanda slammed the door and hauled off with a fist to his face, and then another to his stomach.

  Jack toppled face-first to the bed, nearly numb to her knuckles. The bed offered comfort, making him only vaguely aware of her hostility.

  "You...stupid...BASTARD! You wanna dick around with your friend and throw yourself at his feet, fine. But you fucked with my life today. You even THINK about doing that again, I'll blow a hole through the back of your mouth."

  "Imsorry." Jack's words fell into the pillow in incoherent mush. His skull flared and he realized it could only be cured by sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep.

  "You and I are parting ways," she said. "I don't care what happens to you or your friends, clear?"

  She shouted, but everything she said sounded distant.

  "I should put you out of your misery, because anything else is just postponing the inevitable."

  Only half listening, Jack suppressed the need to vomit. Making it to the bathroom was impossible. He found the energy to at least roll onto his side so not to drown in puke. Now that he was down, he was almost out. Amanda dealt a righteous beating, though she must've missed the part where this mess was on her. She'd agreed to let him warn his friend to leave town, not go in guns blazing. That seemed to be her plan all along. He would've confronted her had he been able to focus.

  In less than twenty-four hours, he'd witnessed the execution of two people. It would've been three if he hadn't put everything he had into stopping her. And what of Allen? Quick flashes of him ran through his mind, but he was unable to process any of them. Allen's mouth couldn't have broken open like that. Let alone those eyes. Or ears. They belonged to the animal that had attacked them on the road.

  Jack wouldn't admit that animal had once been his friend.

  Amanda must've known about it the whole time.

  Two fingers dangled in front of him, snapping his attention back to full capacity.

  "You've got a concussion," Amanda said. "Shit."

  Jack tried to say, "Imagine that," but couldn't tell how much was said versus what he thought.

  She dipped her head close and strands of her shoulder-length hair brushed his cheek, a tickling sensation that he found soothing.

  "You said we were going there to help Allen. You used me to find him..."

  "Nothing you can do for your friend, Jack. Sit up."

  He didn't want to.

  "You've got that glazed look in your eyes. I've got to keep you awake for a while."

  He mumbled something about the hospital.

  "I can't take you there. No one can know I'm here, ok? Once you can walk, that's where I’ll drop you. Now get up."

  She slid him up against the headboard and gave him a couple of slaps until their eyes met. Hers were obligatory and flashed with annoyance.

  "Wait here for a second."

  She grabbed something off the nearby table and left the room, returning a minute later with a bucket of ice. She dumped a pile of cubes onto a towel and tied it into a knot.

  "Keep that against your head...where you're bleeding. And don't go to sleep." />
  Jack's wobbly hands took the makeshift icepack and pushed it against his hairline. A sting of pain shot straight to his spine.

  "Sit there for a second while I run a bath. You've gotta get cleaned up."

  "We have to find Lucy."

  "We have to ward off your concussion, Jack. I think we're far enough away from Greifsfield that Allen won't easily find you. Not this soon, at least."

  Jack's head was clear enough to know now how Allen had managed to find him at the Tavern on the Hill. Understood what had his friend so spooked then, and felt a swell of pity for him now.

  He wanted my help and I turned my back on him.

  Jack had no idea what he could've done for him, but his negligence would haunt him all the same.

  "He'll be looking for us. You have to be ready for him when he comes."

  "You should've told me what you were planning to do."

  The sound of water filling the tub drowned out their conversation.

  "I've made a lot of mistakes," Amanda said as she returned bedside. "Saving your ass was just the dumbest. When I saw you walking around Greifsfield like a man on a mission, I figured that you were mixed up in this. Then I saw that cop get on your trail, and I knew I was right."

  The sting of the ice helped to cool the excessive buildup of heat around his head. A few minutes passed and it was becoming much easier to think and focus.

  "You were following me last night?"

  "I was. The people in Greifsfield won't talk to me, and the few leads I had managed to turn up brought me down some severely dead end streets."

  "What leads have you found?"

  "Just get some rest."

  "You can help me find Lucy...she has to be alive..."

  "What makes you think so? Idealism's for millennials."

  Jack thought that maybe they both qualified as such but said nothing.

  "Nothing about this merits optimism. I followed a few of those things to a roadside motel not far from there. They had a map with a Greifsfield address scribbled on it...fuckers were too low tech for GPS. Anyway, that led me to a small house in the 'burbs. Staked it out for three nights and got nothing. Looked abandoned. On the fourth night, I had a look inside. There was a family of four, a father, a mother and two daughters, chained up in the basement, one per wall. They changed into those creatures right before my eyes, growling as they tugged at their chains. My presence was a tease and they never stopped attempting to break their confines. Not until sunrise when they shriveled, turned back and passed out."