The Traveler

by Melissa Delport

  “There,” Dex murmurs, pointing. The muted light is coming from the windows of a wooden, two-storey lodge.

  “Let me do the talking,” I caution as we approach the house. We can hear the sounds of conversation as we climb the steps but, as I set foot on the porch the wood beneath my feet gives an audible creak and the conversation comes to an abrupt halt. An anxious face appears at the window closest to me and I smile as reassuringly as possible before the curtains fall back into place. I wait expectantly, but nothing happens.

  “What now?” Dex mutters and I shrug.

  “I guess we’re not welcome.” I climb back down the steps, heaving a sigh that we will have to spend the night in the outdoors after all. I haven’t taken two steps when I hear the door open behind me and a friendly voice calls.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  We turn to find an elderly man standing on the porch. His grey hair is thinning and his shoulders are slightly stooped with age. He must be well into his seventies.

  “I’m so sorry to intrude,” I apologize as I make my way back up the stairs.

  “No need to be sorry, dear. I’m the one who should apologize for not opening the door immediately, but I just wanted to be sure...” he trails off, a gloomy expression crossing his kind wizened face.

  “Completely understandable,” I raise my arms, waving away his apology. “I’m Rachel and this is Dex.”

  “Dexter, eh? I had an Uncle Dexter, crazy as a loon, he was.” I don’t correct him, I am more than happy to let him believe Dex’s name is so ordinarily human. “I’m Nicholas, Nicholas Mills. Please,” he continues, gesturing us inside, “do come in.”

  Chapter 25

  A fire is blazing in the fireplace; the source of the light that we had seen.

  “Martha!” Nicholas calls and a frail but dignified looking woman enters the room. She must be in her late sixties and her white hair is scraped back into an austere bun. She is slim and quite tall, assessing me with alert, shrewd blue eyes.

  “Martha, this is Rachel and her friend, Dexter. I found them wandering around outside.”

  “Our car ran out of gas a few miles back,” I offer by way of explanation. “We were hoping to find somewhere safe to spend the night. We’ll be on our way first thing in the morning,” I add quickly as Martha’s eyes narrow.

  “Well you can stay here, of course!” Nicholas insists, ignoring his wife’s brief look of alarm. “It’s the least we can do. Although, are you sure you want to be rushing off? With everything that’s going on it’s probably better that you stay put. A cabin in the middle of nowhere is not a bad place to be when the world’s under siege.” I glance across at Dex and he gives a small shake of his head. This cabin won’t be safe for long.

  “Actually we were thinking of heading for the Black Mountains. I know you’re pretty isolated out here but it’s still too close to town. Maybe you could come with us?” I tempt.

  “No,” Martha answers, “we’ve been here twenty years. We’re not going anywhere.” Her tone makes it perfectly clear that the subject is closed. I nod quickly and she looks appeased.

  “Well, thank you for taking us in.”

  “Absolutely dear,” she smiles, as though sensing she may have been a bit curt. “There’s a guest room just across the hall that you are welcome to. I changed the sheets only last week.” Dex is gazing at her, a strange expression on his handsome face. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to notice. “Now,” she continues, smiling far more amiably, “I’m sure you’re hungry. We’ve already eaten but there’s plenty left over. I can heat you up some stew or make you something else, if you prefer?”

  “Stew would be wonderful,” I reply gratefully.

  Taking in my injured hands Martha shakes her head. The bandage covering my burn is filthy and the cut on my right hand is not much better. She doesn’t question how I got either, but I am hardly surprised considering what is going on out there.

  “Let me see what we can do about those.” Martha moves to another cupboard and retrieves a first-aid box. When she removes my bandage her lip curls at the smell, and I cringe at the reddened, puckered skin beneath it.

  “I think this might be infected,” her voice is filled with concern. Looking at the oozing wound I tend to agree with her. “I used to be a nurse,” she offers, by way of explanation.

  “Where?”

  “Right here in Tennessee. I’ve never left the state. Nicholas worked in banking. We had planned on traveling when we retired, but circumstances changed. I suppose traveling is out of the picture now, we’ll be lucky to survive the summer,” she murmurs, resignedly somber. She fills the kitchen sink with warm water and a small capful of hydrogen peroxide and makes me soak both hands. While I’m waiting she lights a small gas burner and sets a pot of what looks like beef stew on it, to heat. Noticing a radio clock’s digital numbers glowing eerily in the darkened room, Obviously they do have power, but keep the lights off at night so as not to draw attention to the house. Dex and Nicholas simply sit and watch in comfortable silence. Men, I think, are the same everywhere, not prone to idle chatter. After a few minutes Martha gets a wash cloth and gently washes my hands. I grit my teeth – even the smallest movement is agony. It’s amazing how I have barely noticed my injuries with all that has been going on, but now, in the quiet calm of this kitchen, every nerve-ending in my body seems to be focused on this pain. Once cleaned, Martha dries my hands and applies antiseptic cream to both before re-bandaging them.

  “Thank you,” I murmur gratefully. They still hurt like hell but I feel better knowing they are at least clean and protected.

  An unexpected cry from above us cuts through the silence and Nicholas shakes his head as Martha excuses herself.

  “It’s my grandson, Noah,” he explains, filling two bowls with stew. “He has night terrors.”

  “Where are his parents?” I ask.

  “My son Patrick and his wife were killed in a car accident four years ago. Noah was only a year old. He’s been with us ever since. I had just retired when it happened – that’s what Martha meant about circumstances changing. You can’t exactly go out and travel the world when you have a young child to consider. It’s a small price to pay, though – he means everything to us. He goes to boarding-school in Bristol, but thank God he’s on summer break and was home when this all started. He’s a good boy,” he adds, his shoulders seeming to stoop even lower as he places the steaming bowls on the table. “Now, with all this business, he probably won’t even make his sixth birthday. Martha already planned a fireman birthday cake. She’s a wonderful woman – the love of my life, for forty years. I’m sorry if she seemed a bit standoffish, she’s not really coping with it all...” His voice breaks and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to give way to his own tears. Sniffing loudly and clearing his throat he fetches two spoons and hands them to us and we all make our way to the kitchen table. The stew is heavenly, the kind of real hearty homemade fare that I almost never get to eat anymore. Not since my parents died. At least I was lucky, I think to myself. I had them for twenty-three years. Noah only had one.

  “It’s so nice to have you here. Good company is cathartic, don’t you think?” Nicholas says. “I just don’t know what will become of us all.” He suddenly drops his head into his hands.

  “Come with us,” I urge, pushing my bowl aside after only a few mouthfuls. Despite my earlier hunger, I find that I have lost my appetite.

  “No,” he lifts his head and gazes at me hollowly. “We are too old and too tired to run. Even if we could - if we had the energy – what is the point? From what I’ve heard we’re all doomed. I just hope that the end is quick.” He takes a deep breath and composes himself. “So, young man,” he turns to Dex who hasn’t uttered a word since we arrived, “you’re awfully quiet. Is something the matter? Worried about her, are you?” He gestures at me and I stiffen, hoping that Dex acts normally. The Mills are too fragile to deal with the fact that they are harboring a Venite in their ho
me.

  “No, well yes, naturally,” Dex finally replies, dropping his spoon into his empty plate. “I’m just surprised at how easily you’ve opened your home to two complete strangers.”

  “What else would we do, son?” Nicholas asks and I see something flash in Dex’s eyes at the word ‘son’. “I could hardly send you away. It wouldn’t do my conscience any good. We trust - it's human nature to believe the best in people. If we’re proved wrong? Well, I guess that would say a lot more about you than it would about me...” he trails off under the scrutiny of Dex’s intense gaze and I clear my throat loudly, trying to get Dex’s attention. Thankfully at that moment Martha comes back down the stairs. She makes her way to the faucet and fills a plastic cup with water.

  “He wants something to drink,” she explains at Nicholas’s questioning look, and then as her gaze wanders over the table, “Oh good, you’ve eaten.” She scoops up Dex’s plate and then pauses, seeing the food still remaining on mine.

  “I’m done, thank you so much, I just couldn’t finish.” I stand and take the plate to the sink.

  A movement in the corner of my eye alerts me to the boy’s presence. He is peeking around the stairs, his dark hair tousled and his eyes filled with curiosity. I wave at him and both Dex and Nicholas turn to look. His cheeky face disappears for a moment and then returns, his gaze shifting from me to Dex. As I watch, his eyes widen in surprise. I blink in confusion. He doesn’t look scared, exactly, but he is definitely reacting to Dex, as though he knows that there is something different about him.

  “Noah!” Martha scolds, finally turning away from the sink and noticing her grandson. Nicholas chuckles as she strides past, the cup of water in her hand and ushers Noah up the stairs.

  “He certainly keeps us on our toes,” he grins and I smile despite myself.

  It’s not long before our hosts retire for the evening but not before Martha hand-washes Dex’s green T-shirt and jeans and places them in the drier. She gives him a black dressing-gown to wear over his underwear in the meanwhile. I don’t like it – seeing him in black brings back memories I would rather forget. When she shows us to our room I flush as I take in the double bed.

  “Please, help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” Martha offers, “and I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up. There’s a bathroom just next door.”

  “That,” I grin, “is the best news ever.”

  “These are clean and dry,” she hands me a small pile of laundry. “I can’t promise that they’ll be your usual style but you are welcome to them. I’m sorry we don’t have anything that would fit your young man but his clothes should be dry by morning.”

  “You’ve done more than enough,” I insist, “I don’t know how to thank you.” She simply waves her hand airily and makes her way back up the stairs.

  I run a bath, adding a tiny amount of the magnolia bubble bath in the cabinet, and then I lie back in the tub, reveling in the delicate fragrance. Carefully keeping my hands out of the water I lament the fact that I can’t scrub myself clean. A timid knock sounds at the door and for a heart-stopping moment I picture Dex on the other side of it.

  “Yes,” I call softly.

  “It’s only me, dear.” My body relaxes and I rear up out of the bath, wrapping a white bath sheet around me, then I pad across and open the door. Martha smiles, her weary face creased in a small, kind smile. “Your young man reminded me that you might have some trouble with your hands,” she gestures at the clean bandages. Momentarily stunned by Dex’s consideration, I gratefully open the door for her.

  Dropping the towel, I get back in the tub, feeling slightly self-conscious, but within minutes my shyness disappears as Martha lathers my hair with shampoo and washes it thoroughly. She washes my hair twice, until it is so clean it squeaks, and then she slathers it with conditioner and spends at least ten minutes combing it through. I keep my eyes closed, feeling better with every minute that passes. When she soaps up a sponge, I hesitate, but she rolls her eyes, “I was a nurse, remember,” she smiles, “I gave more bed-baths than I care to remember. Now stand up!”

  I do as she says and she scrubs the dust and grime from my body.

  “All done,” she drops the sponge into the water and dries her hands on my towel.

  “I cannot thank you enough,” I say, “I really needed that.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Rachel,” she answers sincerely, and then she leaves, closing the door behind her.

  I lie in the bath for a few more minutes as the water slowly cools. Eventually, feeling better than I have in days, I pull on a long night-shirt embroidered with lilac flowers and I pad barefoot back to the bedroom Dex and I are sharing.

  “I hope there’s enough hot water left,” I murmur into the dark and Dex rises off the bed. As he passes he accidentally brushes up against me, his arm grazing my side. I feel like a jolt of electricity has passed through me and I stand perfectly still, not even daring to breathe. Dex stops too, turning toward me. I close my eyes, thrilled to be alone with him, mortified that he can read my thoughts. I hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing for a long moment and when I finally open my eyes he is gone.

  Feeling confused and embarrassed I slip between the sheets. The feather pillow and the sturdy mattress feel so good that I heave a sigh of contentment and curl up on my side. I would have thought that with so much on my mind sleep would be impossible, but the last thing I remember is the soft tapping of a tree branch against the window before my exhaustion overtakes me.

  Chapter 26

  I wake with a start. The room is pitch black and there is no sign of dawn. Dex is thrashing beside me, his body twisting and turning as he mutters my name through clenched teeth.

  “Dex,” I shake him frantically, trying to rouse him, but, just like before in the park, he simply can’t be woken. My eyes are quickly becoming accustomed to the dark and I can just make out the grimace of pain on his handsome face. A violent jerk of his arm and his elbow catches me painfully in the ribs. I give a small yelp of pain as my eyes start to water. I can’t let him wake the family sleeping upstairs so I draw back my arm and slap him – exactly as I did seven years ago. His beautiful eyes blaze open, glowing emerald, and, as he fixes them on me a look of utter relief washes over his features.

  “Rachel,” he breathes, reaching for me. It is completely unexpected when he pulls me down into his arms and claims my mouth with his own. Without hesitating, his tongue slips inside my mouth and I feel the same jolt of passion as before, only this time it is fiercer and more frantic. Dex’s hands are everywhere, in my hair, on my skin, and they are not as gentle as before. I am not a shy seventeen-year-old girl anymore – I’m a grown woman and we both know it. It doesn’t matter that the world is ending, or that my friends are in danger – in this moment all that matters is that I can’t get enough of his hands or his mouth. I squeeze his shoulder, raking my nails down his naked torso, stopping only when I reach the waistband of his underwear. “Rachel,” he repeats, his voice hoarse and husky, and my blood races faster through my veins, pounding in my head.

  There is no decision to be made – I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to. I lift my face, breaking our kiss for only a moment as I sit up and pull the frumpy nightdress over my head, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. Dex catches his breath as I sit naked astride him, and then with a growl of need he grabs my waist and lifts me off him, throwing me down onto the mattress beside him. Faster than I could believe possible, he removes his underwear and then he rolls the full weight of his body over my own. We are touching in so many places that my whole body is on fire, and as Dex trails kisses from my lips down my neck, I close my eyes, arching my back and letting the moment consume me.

  We don’t go back to sleep afterward. I couldn’t anyway, not after the massive shift in my universe. I lie awake, wondering if I am doomed to hell for feeling the things that I am feeling right now. All the old memories, all the feelings I have tried so hard to suppress are back. I love Dex. I love him more t
han I have ever loved anything – more than my own life – and I would let the whole world perish before seeing one hair on his head harmed. I blink back a tear, cursing my foolishness. How can I think like this, how can I turn my back on my own kind? I know that I will follow him anywhere – back to Venon, hell, I’d go to Mars if he asked, I am so helpless to resist.

  “I won’t make you go,” he whispers beside me and I lift my head from his chest to look at him. His fingers are trailing patterns on my bare back.

  “Stop reading my thoughts,” I tease.

  “I won’t, though. And I won’t make you choose. I will never let you down, Rachel.”

  “I’ve already made my choice,” I admit, my voice breaking as the guilt weighs heavily on my conscience.

  “Well, I’m unmaking it. There is no choice. You don’t have to choose between me and your friends because we are all on the same side.”

  “You... you’d stand for Earth? Against your family? Against your father?” My heart soars as I think of Dex staying here with me when this is all over.

  “I did it before; I’ll do it again.” The determined words ring true and they remind me of something.

  “Amarox said you tried to stop this, that you tried to save Earth. Your father, he forced you, didn’t he?” I ask and Dex smiles sadly.

  “Meeting you changed everything. I couldn’t let you get hurt so I objected to the Earth invasion. I figured if I never saw you again it would be a small price to pay to know that you were safe and happy.”

  “I was never happy,” I correct, kissing his bare chest, “not after you left. I was living a hollow life, Dex, an empty life.” I sit up, resting my back against the wooden headboard and pulling the sheets up under my arms.“So, then what happened? What changed? Did your father use his power of quintessence?”