Upright Beasts

by Lincoln Michel

  “Okay,” I said, but I wanted to get a closer look and maybe a few photos of this thing. I figured they might get me some favorites and likes on the internet.

  When I squatted close, I noticed that alongside the undulating spikes there were two watery ovals ringed with a ridge of veined flesh. They looked like eyeballs without the pupils. I wanted to reach out a finger and poke one.

  When I did, the creature came back to life.

  After things calmed down, I saw Dolan on his back in the road. I had closed my eyes and run away, swatting bees blindly with my hands. One of them had stung me on the neck. Dolan was doing much worse, though. His whole face was like an over-inflated balloon. His skin was turning a dark, bruised red. Foam pooled beside his cheek on the pavement.

  “Oh my god,” Iris said. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

  I’d always suspected she was cheating on me with Dolan. This didn’t seem like the time to be thinking about that, but watching her kneel to cradle his head, I couldn’t help it.

  “There aren’t any hospitals around here. I haven’t seen a town for miles.”

  “We have to do something!”

  Her phone wasn’t getting any signal, and mine was dead. I looked around and tried to think. A little way down the road there was an old dirt path leading into the woods. It looked sparsely used, but at the foot there was a bashed-in mailbox labeled “The Scintleys.”

  “There’s a driveway over there,” I pointed.

  The creature had made it another fifty feet but was lying still again. The bees descended on it in a swarm. The noise was thunderous.

  We got Dolan up on his feet and put his arms around our shoulders. He was looking a little better and even gurgled some words that sounded like either “a plan” or “the pain!” The front of his shirt was stained with drool.

  It took us a little while to get in sight of the house. Dolan was still breathing, but Iris and I were doing all the work. There were porch lights on at one point, and I noted it to Iris, but when I looked back they had been turned out. There was a string of faded prayer flags hanging on the porch. In the yard, a metal sculpture covered in glass bottles clinked in the wind.

  We heard shuffling behind the door when we buzzed the buzzer.

  “Hey! Hey!” Iris said and kept pressing the button. I was stooped under the weight of Dolan.

  It was starting to get late. The sky was draining of color, and I could no longer see the sun through the patchwork of trees. I scratched the back of my neck where the bee had stung me and felt the hard, swelling bump.

  Iris kept banging away.

  Finally, a man and a woman opened the door. They were both wearing scarves around their necks, gloves, and long-sleeve tie-dyed shirts. I myself was sweating puddles in a shirt and jeans. I was worried they were from one of those weird religions that thought flesh was an abomination.

  The bundled couple surveyed us for a few seconds. “You with the government?” the man said when he’d worked up to our faces. His beard was overgrown, and there were little pink crumbs dotting his red lips.

  “Well, he works for the Department of Education,” I said, pointing a thumb at Dolan.

  Iris gave me a look that made me shut up quick. “What?” she said. “No, we aren’t with the government. We got in an accident down the road because some bird ran in front of us, or flew or something, and my friend got stung by bees, and he can’t get stung by bees because it makes him swell up and not breathe, and we need to use a phone to get him to a hospital quick, please!”

  “We don’t have a phone up here,” the man said slowly. “We try to live in harmony with our surroundings.” Other than the clothes that covered most of their flesh, the two of them looked healthy and vital. When they smiled, I could see all of their teeth.

  Soon a small girl, also covered up to her chin, appeared between their legs. “Can they stay for dinner?” the child said.

  “George,” the woman said tenderly. “Invite them in. We’re still all children of the same cosmos, aren’t we?”

  The woman guided us to a couch to rest Dolan on. His chest was rising and falling rhythmically now. His face was still grotesque, but it seemed he’d live.

  “I’ll make some herbal tea that will soothe his throat,” the woman said. She told us her name was Feather and shook a pair of feathers stuck in her braid. “Like these,” she said.

  “Tell me again what this crow looked like,” George said. He tied his own long hair back in a ponytail. “Don’t spare any details.”

  After we went over it again, he said he’d go take a look at our car and headed out.

  When they’d both left, I leaned over and rubbed Iris’s back. The sun was fading and letting in warm, pink light.

  “It’s kind of romantic up here, isn’t it?” I whispered.

  Iris was wiping drool off Dolan’s chin. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said.

  I don’t know why I’d said it. I think I was just trying to lighten the mood, because I was starting to get weirded out about the place. The last light of the day had slithered away, and the woman in the kitchen was knocking pots together. I kept thinking about the three-eyed goat and roadkill crow.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t drink anything,” I said. “There might be something in the water up here.”

  “What do you know about water purity?” she said.

  “I’m just saying I don’t know about these people. They’re wrapped up like mummies in the middle of summer.”

  “Now you’re a fashion expert too?” Iris hissed.

  Lately, Iris and I were always talking like this. We’d been good in the beginning, but along the way things had fallen off the rails. Maybe it was her fault, and maybe it was mine. More likely it was Dolan’s, but either way we were fighting more, and I was waking up every morning cold and angry.

  The day drained away with Iris and Dolan on one couch and me stewing in my private stew. In that way, it was becoming too much like every other day.

  Iris said it wasn’t polite to walk around without permission, but sitting still was making me paranoid. Maybe it was the stale air in that room or the finger paintings of wildlife on the walls. Iris was rubbing Dolan’s chest and telling him it would be okay. I kept thinking about Dolan and Iris naked and undulating against each other’s pink flesh. The beesting on my neck was still swelling, and it hurt to touch. I took a few sips of Feather’s tepid, salmon-colored tea.

  At some point, I nodded off.

  In my dream, I was in a field of corn. The corn immediately around me had been flattened into a crop circle by asshole teenagers. The stalks around the circle were taller than me and bright green. They were so fresh they were dripping with perspiration.

  The old goat with the eye in the middle of its head walked out of the corn and into the circle. The crow was riding on its head between the horns. It flopped off the goat’s head and scurried across the downed corn toward me, pulling itself forward with its wings. It began cawing and crawling up my leg. Then it expired and fell to the ground.

  The goat let out a tortured howl, and I looked back up. It stared at me with all three eyes. A seam appeared above its nose, then stretched back across its head. When the seam made its way around to the chin, the goat’s skin and dirty white fur fell off, half to the left and half to the right.

  I was wrong about the crow. It had come back to life and was trying to scale my leg. I could feel its claws digging into my shin.

  Underneath the goat’s skin was a bloody mess that looked nothing like a goat. Then I realized it wasn’t a goat, it was Dolan! He was naked and covered in blood. There were rows of spikes going down his arms and legs.

  “What the hell is up with you and Iris?” I said.

  In response, the Dolan-goat let out another tortured howl, and another seam appeared. I could see something black and rubbery inside. Before this new seam could fully open, I was awoken to another Dolan shouting. This Dolan had one hand gripping my arm and the other grippin
g Iris’s.

  “Ow!” she said, then, “You’re awake, thank god.”

  I guess his throat was still swollen up, because he could barely talk. His words sounded like someone gargling with blood. “He’s cutting the brake lines.”

  “Who?”

  “He must destroy one vessel to trap another.”

  Feather was two rooms away. I saw her poke her head out the kitchen door and squint at us.

  Iris’s eyes were wild, but I was confused. “What are you even talking about, Dolan?”

  “The bearded man,” Dolan said, talking more quietly now and spitting up a bit of blood and foam.

  “You mean George?” Iris said. “He’s fixing the car. We’re getting out of here and getting you to a hospital. You’ll be all right, I promise. You’re gonna be A-OK.”

  Dolan closed his again. He seemed to be falling back to sleep.

  “No. I heard him tell the woman,” he said.

  “Dolan, he isn’t even in the house.”

  “He talks without lips. They won’t let us leave. The flesh in his brain won’t allow it.”

  When George finally came back, Dolan was snoring. George stood in the doorway and shook his head.

  “We can fix the tire, but the engine is busted. You’ll have to walk down the mountain to Gunderburg in the morning. You should get reception down there and be able to call a tow truck, but it isn’t safe till first light. We’ll fix you up a place to sleep in the spare room.”

  “Can’t we just use your computer and get a cab up here?” Iris said.

  “We don’t use the internet. We don’t need the government spying on us through the wires,” George said. “And anyway, we got everything we need right here in these beautiful woods.”

  He left, saying he had to wash his hands. He was still wearing gloves.

  “Let’s head out now, before he gets back,” Iris whispered.

  “We can’t carry Dolan down a whole mountain.”

  “We’re going to have to. We aren’t leaving him with paranoid hillbillies.”

  “I think they’re hippies, not hillbillies,” I said.

  She gave me a look that said I didn’t have a choice, then walked to the kitchen. “We really appreciate your hospitality, but we couldn’t impose. Do you have a flashlight we could borrow? We’ll head into town. We aren’t afraid of the night.”

  The husband and wife gazed at each other for a minute or two without moving. Then the husband nodded and the wife turned back.

  “Stay for dinner, at least,” George said. “I’ll make an all-natural herb paste to put on your friend’s stings, and you guys can go on your way with a belly full of organic food. No one can say the Scintleys don’t keep a house of healing and peace.”

  When George went to go “gather some herbs and berries” for the paste, I made an excuse to go use the bathroom. My neck was killing me, and I wanted to see what was up without worrying Iris.

  The bathroom window was covered with old boards, but as I urinated I noticed a crack. I put my eye close. George was walking toward a cage with a long black rod, like a cattle prod. The cage was covered with a ratty old tarp. George lifted a corner of the tarp and rattled the cage. His back was blocking what was inside. I saw him switch on the cattle prod.

  Around that time, I started to feel a pain in my forehead. It was a pain that came from sound, a swelling hum. I stumbled, knocking over the soap.

  Someone banged on the door. “You all right in there?”

  My heart was beating quickly, but I decided to get out and pretend nothing had happened.

  When I left, Feather closed the door behind me without going in.

  The paste that we put on Dolan’s face was purple and chunky. It didn’t look as if it had any herbs in it. Still, Dolan’s face started to deflate, and he let out a pleased sigh. I sneaked a little to rub on the gumball-sized sting on my neck.

  “He looks peaceful,” the little girl said. She’d been standing in the doorway, pulling at the arms of her rag doll. “I bet he’s dreaming about the stars.”

  One weird thing about dinner was that none of the Scintleys touched the normal food. There was roasted wild rabbit, a bowl of green beans, and mashed potatoes. They passed the plates around a few times, and Feather even took a scoop of potatoes, but all they actually chewed were fleshy pink strips laid out on a sterling silver platter. They didn’t pass that platter to us.

  “So what kind of plant is that?” Iris said. “Bamboo?”

  “Something like that,” George said.

  “Try some!” the little girl said.

  “Oh, they wouldn’t like it, Clover,” the mother said coldly. She turned to us, “It’s from a species that’s only native to these hills. An acquired taste. And we don’t have much of it to spare. I’m sure you understand.”

  The little girl frowned and crossed her arms. The strips on the plate looked sticky and sweet. They were sitting in a pool of muddy yellow sauce.

  Iris and I exchanged a look. She went back to poking her food with her fork. It didn’t look like she’d eaten much. I hadn’t either. My head was bothering me. The swarming noise had returned and was drowning my thoughts. It felt like a bad gin hangover, and I bent forward in pain. Some kind of liquid trickled out of my ear.

  Then suddenly the noise cleared, as if it had been sucked away by a vacuum cleaner.

  Why are you lying? Clover said, only not exactly. She was looking at her mother, yet her lips weren’t moving.

  Honeypot, we don’t know yet if the flesh of the star-fallen is for them.

  The crow-bitten has the aura, George’s voice said, but the other two are likely just allergic to bees.

  All three family members were still. They weren’t even moving their utensils, and I had the sudden feeling I was in a wax museum. The buzzing noise started up in my head again suddenly. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated until it stopped.

  But I want friends. I want to play. It’s boring up here alone!

  You know I’m not violent, darling, George’s voice said, but if you don’t listen to your mother, I’ll have to pull out the respect belt.

  “Hey,” I said, “let’s all calm down.”

  I immediately realized my error.

  The three family members silently turned their heads toward me. George and Feather had their mouths agape. Clover was smiling.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Iris said, annoyed.

  The rest of us didn’t talk though. We were waiting for someone to make the first move.

  He has the star-fallen aura. He heard!

  Pretend nothing happened. We have to make sure the host has enough time.

  “Excuse me,” George said, enunciating every syllable. “I think I hear nature calling, so to speak.”

  He stood up and carefully put his chair back. He stretched his arms and scratched his bearded neck. I could see him looking at me from the corner of his eye.

  “I’m going to check on Dolan,” Iris said. “Thanks for the dinner, it was very, uh, well-balanced.” When she stood up, Feather grabbed her hand.

  “You haven’t had dessert,” she said. “I make a completely organic berry pie.”

  “Hey, don’t grab me,” Iris said and yanked at Feather’s gloved hand. When she did, the glove came off, and Feather and Iris both gasped.

  “What the fuck did you do to your hand?”

  Feather’s hand alighted back on Iris’s. It wasn’t a normal hand. It was swollen and bright pink, with rows of tiny spikes running down the middle of four fingers. Only the pinky had remained unchanged. Her fingernails on the other four fingers had fallen off, but the skin underneath looked odd. Each finger ended in the same watery, pupil-less eye.

  “Oh dearie,” she said, pulling her hand back and covering it with a napkin. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

  We managed to get the family room door locked and began propping up furniture. Even from behind the shut door, I could hear the parents shouting at each
other in my mind. Clover was laughing. My head was swimming in sound and adrenaline, and I could only hear fragments. Does the woman have it too? . . . Will he want to join the circle? . . . This is serious, Clover . . . signal with burnt skin . . . and so on.

  “Dolan, we have to go. Wake up!” Tears ran down her face.

  I went over to her, and she grabbed my hand. Her grip was so tight her fingernails dug into my skin, and I started bleeding.

  “What did they do to him? What the fuck is wrong with these people?”

  Dolan, if he was still Dolan, was lying engorged on the couch. His skin had turned even darker. It looked as if his entire body was one huge bruise. His stomach cavity was swelling outward, spilling over his jeans and remaining rib cage. You could see that several off the ribs had cracked where bits of bone had ripped through his shirt. Rivulets of pus dripped from little holes in his skin where tiny translucent bulbs had emerged. His eyes were closed and crusted with dark gunk.

  Iris kept yelling “no” and pinching her face as if she was trying to wake up from a dream. I’d never been a big fan of Dolan, but even I didn’t like seeing him like this. I wished we could all be back in that car, driving through the woods in our angry silence back to the city.

  The Scintleys were knocking politely on the door. “Brother, sister, open the door and commune with us. You don’t know the joy your friend has in store!”

  “We need to get out of here,” I said, trying to pull Iris up.

  “Fuck you,” Iris said quietly. She was weeping. “Do you even know what Dolan did for me? I had a life before we dated, you know. And it was a shitty life until Dolan helped me out. I’m not leaving him to die on a couch.”

  “We’ll get help. We’ll go get help and come back and save him.”

  She was trying to lift Dolan and wouldn’t move. I tried to help her, and we got him almost standing. His skin was covered in sweat and goo. He slipped out of our arms and onto the rug. He let out a deep inhuman groan as he fell.

  Iris balled her hands into fists and snarled, “Oh, we’re coming back all right. We’re coming back to fuck those fuckers up.”