Nightscape

by Stephen R. George

  She raised her eyes to meet his.

  “He’s my son, too, Bonnie. You know I love him. You know I’d do anything for him. Don’t you?”

  She could not deny it.

  “How do I talk to him? Shep will never let me get close enough.”

  Constance edged Harris out of the way.

  “Through me,” she said. “Talk to him through me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Through you?”

  “It’s something we do. Just let Evan know that everything is okay. That you want him to finish what has been started.”

  “But I don’t want him to! I want my son back!”

  Constance placed strong hands on Bonnie’s shoulders. Her eyes, Bonnie now saw, had flecks of gray in them, like steel shavings.

  “Think about everything that has happened. Have we ever threatened you?”

  “You broke into my house and abducted my child!”

  “We only wanted to protect him from Shep Thomas. And in retrospect, it was a mistake. We would not do it that way again. But think about it. Did we shoot at you? Did we hurt you in any way?”

  Bonnie fought off a sudden dizzying wave of images. She was in the house again, and lights were flashing, sirens blazing, Evan crying.

  And suddenly, as sharp and as clear as the sound of a glass breaking, she remembered what one of the intruders had said.

  Let me talk to you… Please…

  Had there been guns? Only in her own hand.

  She lowered her eyes, reaching for the memory. All the lights, all the sounds, it had been so confusing.

  “We only wanted to protect the boy. That’s all.”

  “But you changed him!”

  Constance shook her. Bonnie’s head rocked gently. She looked into the other woman’s eyes.

  “Evan would be dead right now if we had not acted. It is as simple as that. He will still die, if he does not complete what was started.”

  And suddenly it came bursting out of Bonnie, the core of her fear. “But I promised him! I promised him I would never leave him again! Don’t you understand? I left him once, but I promised him I would never do it again!”

  Constance continued to hold her, and Bonnie trembled.

  “No one wants you to leave him. Just let him go. Let him become what he must become. He will still be your son.”

  Bonnie looked away. A warm breeze riffled through the trees. The forest seemed to sigh.

  “Please, Bonnie,” Harris said, and his voice cracked.

  She looked at him, fighting tears, and in that moment she understood perfectly what they were asking of her. Did she love Evan enough to let him go?

  She could not find the answer within herself.

  She closed her eyes and fought to regain her composure, embarrassed that she had broken down in front of these people.

  Constance was still holding her, still looking into her eyes. Bonnie looked steadily back.

  “What do I have to do?”

  A faint flicker of a smile passed over Constance’s lips, and then was gone, replaced by a grim line of determination.

  “Let me kiss you,” Constance said. “Close your eyes.”

  Bonnie did so. The forest felt hushed, expectant. Constance’s grip tightened on her shoulders, and then Bonnie felt the touch of lips on her own.

  She forced herself not to react, not to pull away, despite the urging of every fiber in her body. Constance’s lips were warm, pliant, and they pressed over Bonnie’s like a lover’s.

  “Don’t struggle,” Constance said against her mouth, the words muffled by the kiss.

  Bonnie took a deep breath through her nose, kept her eyes closed, tried to make her muscles relax. Something wet touched her lips, and she gasped as she realized that Constance was probing with her tongue. It was too much. She pulled away, but found herself firmly held by Constance’s hands. The tongue became more insistent, sliding across her lips, touching her teeth.

  Bonnie moaned and opened her eyes, still straining to pull away. She found herself staring into the other woman’s eyes, and thought, for a dizzying, sickening moment, that she was simply pressed up against a mirror and kissing her own reflection.

  In that instant, Constance’s tongue moved past Bonnie’s lips, past her teeth, touched her tongue. It felt to Bonnie as if a live wire had been pushed into her mouth. Her whole body stiffened.

  She tasted the strange saliva. Tangy, acidic, like citrus juice. The saliva glands in her own mouth let loose with a deluge that forced her to swallow.

  She gasped, finally managing to break free and cry out, pushing Constance away.

  Then dizziness. Surging up her spine like an electric charge, engulfing her head like a blanket.

  “Oh,” Bonnie said, and sat heavily on the forest floor.

  Constance stepped away from her.

  Bonnie blinked, blinked, blinked, as above her the trees seemed to circle, spin, dance.

  “Oh,” she said again.

  Small patches of sky, spinning overhead, coalesced into a bright circle. She felt as if she were on the edge of a great precipice, poised to fall.

  Then there were faces leaning over her. Harris. Risely. Constance.

  “Speak to him,” Constance said. “Tell him.”

  Harris leaned close. “Evan, don’t be afraid. Let go, son. Come across. Your mother is here. Listen to her.”

  And for a wavering, dreamy moment, Bonnie was no longer lying on the forest floor. She was sitting, back pressed to a tree. And beside her stood Shep Thomas. And a smell engulfed her, and her eyes filled with tears.

  The smell was Evan. His essence. Boy scent. She would have recognized it anywhere.

  Thoughts she knew were not her own raced through her mind. Fear, anger. Something directed toward Shep that she did not understand.

  For the briefest of instants, she knew what it was to be Evan, understood the changes that had been wrought in him, knew beyond all doubt that what she had been told was true, saw clearly his frantic need to hang on to her, saw how it was holding him back, how it was killing him.

  Evan, she thought. Evan. Please, please, help me. Don’t be frightened. I love you.

  And then, as if she had actually spoken, an answering thought.

  Mom?

  She forced herself to think the thing she did not want to think, the thing she knew she must.

  I know what’s happening to you, Evan. It’s okay. Believe me, it’s okay. Let it happen. Listen to them. You must come over, Evan. I’ll be here with you. Let it happen, and come to me.

  The moment passed, and she was again lying on the forest floor. The trees spun around her. Faces leaned over her.

  Constance, smiling, bent down for another kiss.

  “He’s listening,” Constance said softly. “He’s letting go. Tell him more. Convince him.”

  Lips touched her own. A tongue darted across her teeth, into her mouth. The trees spun, merged into a dark tunnel surrounding her. Sky shrank to a small circle of light, pulling her on, pulling her toward Evan.

  Evan rubbed his back against the bark of the tree, reaching for something solid, something real, to anchor him. The forest faded in and out around him as if it were an image on a poorly tuned television.

  It was the dream again. Except he was now awake.

  Let go.

  He blinked the vision away.

  Shep Thomas, who was leaning against an adjacent tree, rifle pointed at Evan’s stomach, watched him with little interest. Shep was breathing harshly. Something rattled in his throat. He was soaked with sweat, and he looked frightened, lost. He kept making small sounds, almost words but not quite.

  Evan’s neck still throbbed where Shep had hit him with the stock of the rifle.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  The blood on Shep’s sleeves was drying in places, and looked almost like rust.

  “Shut up, then,” Shep said.

  He rubbed his neck and squeezed his ey
es tightly shut. The rifle trembled, but did not move.

  The dizziness swept in on Evan again, but he resisted it, fought it off. He needed to watch Shep. Shep, who had helped him and his mother, was now something else. Shep was dangerous.

  “Why are you staring?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Stop it anyway. We’ll rest a little longer, and then we’ll move on. You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll take me to them.”

  Evan said nothing.

  Through the spaces in the trees he glimpsed movement. Lots of it. So far, Shep hadn’t seen it at all.

  Protectors.

  He shuddered as the word came to him. It seemed to carry with it a weight of fear, of the unknown. Even Constance and Dad had spoken the word in hushed tones.

  Shep shifted his back against the tree. He dug into one of his pockets and took out an envelope. With trembling fingers he opened it and took out a sheet of paper. He stared at it a long time, and his lips trembled. When he put the paper back in the envelope, his eyes were wet.

  “You ready?”

  Evan nodded, but when he moved to stand he fell back down again, dizzy and nauseated. The forest spun around him.

  He was looking up at the ceiling of trees, at the bright patchwork of sky.

  Evan. Listen to me. Don’t be frightened. I love you.

  Faces were leaning over him. Dad. The sheriff. Constance. They were saying things to him.

  But it was the voice inside his head that clamored most for his attention. It was Mom’s voice.

  I know what’s happening, Evan. Let go. I love you. I’ll be here for you.

  The dizziness passed. He opened his eyes and realized that Shep was standing over him, looking down at him suspiciously.

  “What the hell’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s the dream, isn’t it?”

  Evan nodded slowly.

  “I could feel it,” Shep said softly. “I knew it!”

  Evan closed his eyes again. He no longer felt fear at the dream. Not the same fear he’d felt before. He knew, now, what the dream was. Over the past day or two, the black space in his memory had filled again. He remembered the doctors, the sickness, the pain. Remembered the changes that were meant to heal him.

  He remembered, also, his mother.

  He formed an image of her in his mind.

  Mom. Mom.

  Let go, Evan. Let it happen.

  There was a sadness in her words. A deep, terrible sadness.

  Within himself, he knew he was poised on the verge of a great and profound change. His body trembled at the thought of it. He had sensed it approaching for a while now, and had feared it.

  He had been hanging on by a thread, clinging to what he knew, what was safe, what he loved. Mom.

  But in her voice, in the thoughts that appeared in his head, he sensed her encouragement.

  Come over. I’ll be here.

  “Get up!”

  He opened his eyes as Shep jabbed him with the barrel of the rifle. He scrambled to a kneeling position, then pulled himself upright.

  “Now. Lead me,” Shep said.

  Trust me, Evan. Let it happen. Don’t fight it any longer.

  Evan leaned against the tree.

  “I said move!”

  At the jab from the rifle, Evan stumbled on into the forest. As he did so he felt a feeling of tremendous relief flood through him. Relief, and something that might have been joy.

  There was no need to fight it any more. No need to pit himself against the changes ripening within him.

  As they moved on, feet crunching on fallen branches and moist undergrowth, the feeling turned to one of near euphoria. Within the shell that was his body, he felt things moving, muscles shifting, flesh giving, and reforming.

  Why had he ever fought this? It felt as if he had been encased in plaster for years, and was suddenly being released.

  And the physical sense was the least of it. In his mind, other changes were occurring. In a matter of moments he felt himself become part of the forest. Felt himself spread out and encompass the forest. Became aware of every tree, every leaf, every thing that lived and moved.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” came Shep’s angry voice behind him.

  I’m being shaped, Evan thought. Becoming something else.

  But he said, softly, “Nothing.”

  And continued to move, holding back the joyous smile that wanted to spread across his face, as the forces he had struggled against for so long exerted their final, triumphant influence upon him.

  The world stopped spinning. The dark walls of the tunnel unraveled into individual trees, and the light at the end fell away into glittering fragments of dappled sky.

  “Oh,” Bonnie said.

  She pushed up onto her elbows, blinking away the last of the dizziness. Constance helped her to her feet, as Harris and Risely backed away to give her room. Twigs and leaves fell from her.

  “Thank you,” Constance said.

  “What did I do?”

  She still felt as if she were in the grips of a dream. A dream about Evan. A dream in which she and the boy were one person.

  “You released him,” Constance said.

  Bonnie wobbled on her feet, and Harris reached to steady her. He put his arm around her shoulder.

  “You did great, Bonnie,” he said.

  “I did?”

  “They’re moving,” Risely said.

  Shep was again leaning against a tree, sighting his rifle.

  “What now?” Bonnie asked.

  “If they move much closer to the creche, the protectors will act,” Constance said.

  “But Evan will be okay?”

  “He should be.”

  “Should be?” Bonnie grabbed Constance’s arm as the other woman was turning away. “That’s not good enough! Will he be safe?”

  Constance tugged free. There was no anger on her face, only a look of resignation that made Bonnie feel hollow.

  “Shep Thomas and Evan are approaching the creche’s safety zone. The protectors will perceive them as two intruders. They’ll do what they are meant to do. Unless the transformation has completed itself and they see that Evan is one of their own.”

  “Then what?”

  “They’ll focus on Shep.”

  Harris continued to hold her. “You’ve done all you could do, Bonnie.”

  “Damn it, Harris!”

  Risely, who was still sighting his rifle, said, “You think the protectors will be able to handle Thomas? He’s armed to the teeth.”

  “They’ve never failed before,” Constance said.

  Bonnie sensed no conviction in the statement.

  “You don’t know Shep,” she said. “He’s very good at what he does.”

  “Maybe we should follow, just in case,” Risely said.

  Constance looked doubtful. “There is some danger here,” she said. “You’re armed. You might be considered a threat.”

  “Even accompanying you?”

  “You’re armed, Ron. We never allow weapons this close to the creche.”

  “I just hate to see that guy moving unchecked.”

  “He may not be the danger we think him to be,” Constance said.

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Shep Thomas is well on his way to becoming one of us.”

  Risely lowered his rifle and looked at her, shocked.

  “Does he know this?”

  “He knows it, but he doesn’t believe it.”

  “You mean you infected him against his will?”

  Risely’s voice was edged with undisguised revulsion.

  “We hoped to avoid killing him. It was the only way.”

  Risely looked pale. He shook his head. “I suppose it’s justice of a sort,” he said softly. And then his look changed. “Look, if he’s becoming one of you, how quickly will the protectors move in? Mightn’t they delay if they sense that Thomas i
s nearly one of you?”

  Constance, obviously, hadn’t considered that. “They might.”

  “So he could get very close to the creche.”

  Constance said nothing.

  “Maybe we should follow, just to be sure,” Risely said.

  “There’s something else,” Harris said. “We may have saved Evan from the protectors by pushing him over, but Thomas will sense the change, won’t he?”

  Again, Constance nodded.

  “Then he might turn on Evan sooner than we think,” Harris finished.

  Bonnie listened to this exchange silently, and as what was being said became clear to her, she stiffened with outrage. She may very well have lured Evan into even greater danger.

  “Still,” Constance was saying, “if Evan has come over…”

  Bonnie did not wait for her to finish. She edged away from the group who were concentrating fully on one another. When she was five yards away, she turned and ran, hands held out in front of her to ward off slashing branches.

  “Bonnie!”

  That was Harris.

  “Wait!”

  That was Constance.

  Bonnie kept running. There was no sound of pursuit behind her. Within seconds she was entering the clearing before the stream. At the sight of the blood on the ground she came to a complete stop. The little girl.

  The blood on the ground, the memory of the gunshots, seemed irreconcilable with the background of trickling water and lush trees.

  Which way had they gone?

  There was movement from some bushes near the pond, and Bonnie approached carefully. The girl poked her face out and blinked quizzically.

  “Hello,” Bonnie said.

  The girl made a soft whimpering sound. Bonnie moved closer, and immediately saw the blood on the girl’s arm, dribbling down her naked body to soak the ground at her bony hips.

  “Are you okay?”

  The girl nodded.

  “There are people coming. Your people. To help you.”

  The girl nodded again.

  “The man who shot you. Did you see where he went?”

  The girl hesitated, then pointed across the stream, toward the opening of a narrow trail.

  “Did he have a boy with him? The little boy that was with us?”

  She nodded.

  Bonnie reached out to touch the girl’s shoulder, but she pulled away, frightened. Bonnie desisted.