by Sabre, Mason
Devan smoothed back her hair from her face, gently stroking it. “You’d have made him the happiest man on the planet.” He ran his thumb along her face with such tenderness, wiping away her tears, tracing across her cheeks and the shape of her mouth. His eyes explored her face, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
“I wish I had told him,” she sighed. She pulled herself away from Devan. She needed to. She had cried now and it was good, but she needed to put it back away into its box where it couldn’t hurt her again. Crying wasn’t going to bring either Eric or the baby back. Nothing would and she knew that. This was her life now and she just had to accept it. If crying was going to make an ounce of difference, it would have done so by now. She took in a deep breath and tried to wipe her face dry with her hands. She eventually gave up and just used the front of her top. She forced a smile to her lips. It was fake. She knew it and she was sure Devan knew it, but in that moment she needed the fakeness of her happy mask. Without it, she wouldn’t get through another minute of her lonely life - not that she had lived in these last three years. She simply hadn’t died; not physically at least. But Tara - the one she had known - she died three years ago.
“Should we get moving?” she asked Devan, pushing thoughts of Eric away. “Before it gets dark? Or can we maybe stay here?”
He gave a cautious shake of the head as if he wasn’t sure about the change of topic. Tara moved away from him to look around the empty shop and its equally empty shelves.
“Shame we didn’t run into a bakery or something,” she remarked. “My stomach is all but thinking my throat got slit.”
“We can make a stop at one of the others. Maybe they have some food.”
She ran her fingers along one of the shelves, expecting them to come away with dust on them, but they didn’t. Strangely, the place was spotlessly clean. Her thoughts bounced around everything that had occurred over the past two days. “Are you going to eat something?” she asked Devan. He hadn’t vomited in a while. She was happy about that at least. He didn’t look sick and she hadn’t noticed a fever when he had held her. Maybe that had gone too. His hand kept bleeding on and off, though, and that worried her.
“I’ll have something,” he said. Tara wasn’t convinced, but she simply nodded at him. She could push when the time came.
“Mind if I go and clean up my face a moment. I’m sure I look a total state.” The truth, however, was that she wanted a minute just to be by herself. Not that being around Devan bothered her, but she just needed some time to collect herself and force herself to somewhere close to normal. She wasn’t one for crying on people. Only Eric had ever really seen the true Tara, and many times, that wasn’t pretty either. “You can take a gander outside and see if there is anywhere that we can grab something to eat.”
When Devan hesitated as if he was going to say no, she added, “Just stay close enough so that I can yell if I need you.”
“I won’t go far,” he said.
“No,” she said, and then went to the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving him in the shop. Even though she knew she was alone, she closed the bathroom door and found herself looking for a way to lock it other than the latch which had already proved useless. There wasn’t one. There was a small mirror above the sink and a small fluorescent light above that. She pulled the short cord to turn it on. It flickered a couple of times before humming into life and settling at an even buzz. She stared at herself in the mirror - or at least she thought it was her. The reflection was old and tired. It was not the same reflection that she imagined in her mind. She still expected her face to look the same way it did the day she married Eric - the day when she was happy. She reached up to touch the glass, unsure if what she was seeing was real.
She glared hard at herself. A mixture of hatred and disbelief filled her mind. She hated the woman who had killed Eric and the baby with her selfish behaviour, but she didn’t recognise the woman who stared back. She was familiar, reminiscent of a Tara she knew once, but she wasn’t what Tara wanted to see and, after a moment, she pulled the cord in frustration and dulled the mirror.
Chapter Twenty
Devan was still feeling unsettled inside as he stepped outside of the store and into the ever-changing weather. He couldn’t get the baby, the pregnancy and Tara’s loss out of his head. The rain had stopped and so had Tara’s tears. The clouds were moving away.
He hadn’t expected the news about the baby. It had thrown him. It felt unreal yet true at the same time. His mind swam, thoughts racing and colliding until an odd sense of numbness finally settled over him. There was agitation under all that, though. Something was missing, and he didn’t know how to fix it or make it better. He was hesitant to leave her alone in the shop, but he realised that she needed a minute or two. There wasn’t much that could happen. He wasn’t going to go far.
Tara was right about the time, though. They did have to get moving. The hours were ticking along faster than she realised with a deadline that was ticking like an invisible clock above both of their heads.
Devan checked both ways before moving from the shop front. There was a nip in the air and although the grey clouds above moved quickly, the shadows he could see were all still. The wind whipped up from the sea front, making him wish that he had a coat. He would have pulled the collar up and huddled inside its warmth.
He was anxious about which way to walk. He didn’t want to go very far otherwise he wouldn’t be able to hear Tara if she called for him. He glanced across the road at a small convenience store. It was closed, too, like everything else. The street was nothing but memories now - things of yesteryear that the world didn’t need anymore. He hoped that the memories weren’t too old or else the food would be stale. He wanted Tara to be able to eat a bit.
He stood there, caught between the indecision of whether he should cross the road or whether it was too far to go. Then, there was the sweet nostalgia he felt at just being outside. It had been a long time, or that’s what it felt like, at least. Nothing had really changed, though. Perhaps his memories had become distorted when he had been left in the darkened corners of his cell with only his own thoughts to ruminate.
He checked behind him for Tara. She hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet. He took a last look around the street and then ran across the road to the store. He pushed the door open, confident that it wouldn’t be locked. He didn’t walk right in, though. He lingered and watched, ensuring there were no shadows ready and waiting for him. He noticed a small carousel display that held pictures of postcards - sunny days and beaches, ice-cream and children, nighttime and twinkling coloured lights on the sea front. There were cards filled with cartoon cats and topless sunbathers; cheap tat to sell to the tacky tourist. It had wheels and a floral cloth covered brick resting on the frame to keep it in place. Devan kicked it free and pushed the display in front of the door to wedge it open. Securing it with the brick he cast a glance over to the empty jewellery store where Tara was again to reassure himself that she was still fine.
The first display he could see was filled with chocolates and bags of crisps. Placed there strategically, he was sure; to entice the queuing customers that they just needed one more thing. There was a refrigerator next to the main counter, where the till was. It was off, but then Devan expected that.
If he went to the fridge, then Tara wouldn’t be in his sights any longer. Women and bathrooms, he thought to himself. He counted to three in his head and then leapt forward, wrenched open the fridge and grabbed anything within reach. Just behind the counter next to him was a ream of carrier bags. He yanked one off and started to fill it.
Bolting back to the doorway, he gave the jewellery store another quick glance and then made a dash for some of the crisps and chocolates as well. He grabbed a couple of health bars for himself and hoped that he would be able to stomach them - although eating was more for Tara at this point than him. He hurried, wanting to get back to Tara without delay.
* * *
The bathroom
was small, like a small closet which had had a sink and a toilet fitted in it. Tara used the toilet and as she was washing her hands, she heard Devan come back in. The front door opened and the bell that was hanging over the top rang. It jangled a second time when she heard him close the door behind himself. There was no towel on which to dry her hands so she rubbed them down her jeans. She heard Devan’s footsteps come closer and then he knocked on the bathroom door.
“Just be a second,” she called out to him.
She stood up straight, breathed in deeply, ran her fingers through her hair and squared her shoulders before she opened the bathroom door. She stepped out to leave the old, crying Tara in the bathroom and emerged wearing the metaphorical mask she was used to.
“I hope you got me something to eat. I’m so damn hungry,” she said as she reached in to turn the main bathroom light off. At that moment, she felt she could eat anything and she wouldn’t care. She closed the bathroom door and then went to the front half of the store, expecting to see Devan there. But he wasn’t. No one was.
She turned fast. “Devan?”
It wasn’t Devan staring at her. It wasn’t his eyes, and it wasn’t his face. A dark, eerie shadow stood in front of her, grinning, his eyes focused on her. Like the girl they had seen before, his form was more solid. Tara stared back, glued to the spot. He started to move closer.
* * *
He could see her from where he was. She emerged from the back of the jewellery store and stepped into the front. She was beautiful, even from a distance. He’d watched her like this so many times before, and she hadn’t ever been aware. He’d stared at her, transfixed. Always unable to get close enough. Always with those shadows on his tail, ready to grasp hold of him and pull him back.
Tara didn’t even realise that it was her own doing that had brought them face to face. That day in Taylor’s, he’d almost cried with relief. He wondered what he had done to deserve Tara coming into his life. He had wondered that a long time ago, too, but he had never found an answer.
Thoughts of the baby snuck back into his mind as he watched her. He wondered what she would have looked like pregnant, her belly swollen with new life and her radiance brightening up every room she entered. It would have been some kind of dream, he supposed. He imagined her holding a baby in her arms. Her child. He pictured the smile of contentment upon her face. Now that would be a beautiful sight.
A sudden punch in the chest caused Devan to gasp in agony and stumble backwards. The pain brought him to his knees and he struggled for breath. The bag fell to the floor with a thud, the contents spilling out and scattering in all directions. His mind went dizzy and his vision jigsawed between dark and light. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to shake it off.
He tried desperately not to fall on his face, his hands barely supporting him. “Tara,” he breathed as he realised that it wasn’t his heart that was pounding away with terror - it was hers. She was afraid. She was very afraid. He half-crawled, half-stumbled out of the store and onto the empty street. Sounds and squeals echoed all around him, and he knew that something was close.
Tara was standing in the front part of the shop, the road and the glass between her and Devan. She was alone. He couldn’t see what the source of such fear was. He placed his hand on his chest over his heart and focused all of what he had into it, calming it down and, in turn, calming Tara’s down. Only then would she be able to think and act. Without taking his eyes off her, he forced his breathing to slow - in through the nose and slowly out through the mouth,.
When he had calmed enough to stand, Devan pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t dare run. His legs were still too shaky and his muscles ached.
The skies above him cracked suddenly and the darkness swept in with such speed that he feared he would be plunged into total darkness at any moment. Rain lashed down and the wind fought him viciously as he struggled to reach Tara. “Tara,” he yelled. She turned her head his way, but he wasn’t sure if she had heard him or if it was merely a coincidence. He yelled her name again and then watched as a small dot formed in the middle of the glass she was staring at and started to spread outwards, slowly darkening the entire surface.
Tiny branches reached out, veins of black spreading and creating a tangled mesh. Devan’s heart lurched. “No, no, no,” he yelled. Fear and determination propelled him forwards but the strong air currents kept him immobilised. He took a deep lungful of air and let it out in an almighty scream of her name.
As he reached the pavement, he watched as Tara rose up into the air, seemingly impelled by an invisible force. Howling her name, he fought to reach her, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. With his heart in his mouth, he saw her get thrust back towards the main window and then, like a movie scene playing out in slow motion, he looked on helplessly as her back get closer and closer to the glass and eventually made contact. Tiny cracks appeared and then grew as they began to shatter on impact. He shouted, his terror-stricken voice carrying loudly through the air.
Glass sprayed outwards and then Tara was free in the air. She was falling, arms flailing frantically. Devan lunged forwards, the binds that had seemed to hold him back till then suddenly released. As he dove for Tara, almost crying in his desperation, he was thrown back as she hurtled into him with a thump. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as he was knocked onto his back with a force, gravel scraping up his back as they went skidding over the ground. As they slid to a halt, Devan was reluctant to let her go, his arms like iron bands around Tara’s trembling form that refused to open. Panting and oblivious to the sting of pain on his abused back, he raised his head just in time to see a shadow emerge from the store. It rushed towards them and Devan instinctively rolled them over so that Tara was lying beneath him, shielding her from harm. In seconds, the shadow was airborne, heading their way. As he watched in dread as to what it would do next, it suddenly seemed to ram into an invisible barrier. Just like that, it scattered in the air above them like fireflies and then, magically, faded into nothingness.
Breathing hard, relief coursing through his veins, Devan turned his head to look down into Tara’s petrified face. With a shaking hand, he stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Are you okay?” he breathed.
“Yes,” she panted. “I’m okay.”
“Good. We need to get going, okay?” He helped her up, wanting to get the hell out of there before the shadow could come back. “Can you walk?” He wanted to look at Tara properly to make sure that she was really okay. He needed to see she wasn’t hurt anywhere; but they didn’t have time. He grabbed her hand and they started to run again - along the empty street, past the fire station, past the dentist and rows of unused cars. They ran for what felt like forever. Devan kept glancing back at Tara, praying that she was okay. She kept checking behind her, too, but nothing was following them.. The rain slammed down against their backs and the wind pushed Tara’s long, wet hair into her face. She kept flicking it away, soft oaths coming from her mouth when it refused to obey.
At the end of the main roundabout, there was a church; on the opposite side. The roundabout gave way to five different directions, but it was the church they were heading towards. Tara slowed, making it difficult for Devan to continue tugging her along. She stopped.
“I can't,” she said, shaking her head. “I can't go in there.”
Devan’s eyes looked around frantically; searching anywhere possible where the shadows could be hiding. “We need to be inside,” he said.
“Not there. Anywhere else. There’s a police station there.” She pointed in the other direction. But that wouldn’t help them - the clock was ticking. She had to get into the church.
“We can't,” he said. He felt his own guilt rise up inside. Of course, he knew full well what the church meant, but that was why she had to go in there. She was close. This was the only way she would learn the truth about Eric. To deviate would be to risk losing her forever. The shadows were coming.
Chapter Twenty One
&n
bsp; Every part of her trembled and screamed resistance as she inched forwards. Dread circled inside her chest as she unwillingly followed Devan. Being led to her death would have been better than this. Of all the places, why this place? As soon as Devan heaved the hefty doors open, the smell of polished pews and the aroma of incense that had impregnated the wood over time washed over her. The smells ignited her memories like a match to a firework. She shook her head and took a step back, but Devan didn’t let her.
“We have to go in,” he urged, gently tugging her hand. It was dark and musty inside, yet at the same time, warm and inviting. An odd occurrence, Tara had once thought to herself. She braced herself for what she might see. More shadows, like the one in the store? Visions of Eric maybe? Herself, waiting nervously to take her last walk down the aisle as an unwedded woman. She followed Devan reluctantly down to the heart of the church. She had been a different woman the last time she had come here. Someone who was happy. Someone with hopes and dreams. Someone who died with her husband three years ago.
“We got married here,” she said to Devan, without him needing to prompt her this time. “It was so beautiful and bright in here that day. We had so many flowers; so many people. Everyone that mattered to us was here, in this one place.” She paused to turn and take in the views around her. Like every place she had been with Devan on this odd journey, it was old and unused and had been standing here a while with no visitors. It was a sad affair that a place such as this would be abandoned too. Hymn books were piled at the end of each pew, dusty and laden with cobwebs. The edges of the thin carpet that ran along the aisle were tattered and frayed, patches of it worn away from years of people coming in and out. Windows that were once bright in colour were now thick with dirt. Some of them were broken and smashed. Above her, there were nests dotted around in the beams; below on the ground were smatterings of bird droppings.
