by Jill Nolan
“Why not?”
“Because that's a horrible nickname. My friends only use it when they're trying to annoy me.”
“Well, the last thing anyone would describe me as is annoying." I glance over at Hanna as she shakes her head in disagreement. "You have my apologies Keegan Acorn."
I had told him my full name last night, and now I'm regretting it. “It's Alkorn, and I think you know that," I say with teasing reproach.
“Opps, forgot the 'L'.” He quickly turns to Allison, whose conversation with Hanna seems to have just ended. “Alster, lovely to see you again.”
“Lovely to see you as well,” Allison says with her best English accent. It’s such a terrible impression, cringeworthy even, and I have to put my head down to hide my mirth.
“I’ve got a question for you both, do you actually like this...beer?” Ben asks us, grimacing at whatever light beer he holds.
“Oh my God, you are the biggest beer snob,” Hanna cuts in before we can answer.
“I don’t think it makes me a snob to want something other than watered-down, tasteless beer.”
“You’re from England…shouldn’t you be used to tasteless things?” She is merciless, and it is so entertaining. Ben just looks around, pretending to be offended.
“Oy, and what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks Hanna. She doesn't answer us, so he turns to us. "You can't possibly tell me you like this shite?"
"I'm pretty sure nobody likes it, but we're cheap college students trying to consume massive quantities of alcohol without dying," Allison says with a shrug.
"Fine, I'll shut up and drink this 'beer' like a fucking twat."
I’ve never heard anyone say twat before. I never realized I was missing that word in my life. “Can you say wanker?” I ask. That’s my favorite English insult that I have yet to hear in real life.
“Wanker? Why do you want me to say wanker?” He pronounces it like wank-uh.
“I just love the way you say it.”
“Yes, well it doesn’t really work with an American accent, now does it? Wanker.” He says the word this time with an exaggerated American accent in a deep voice. Then he switches to a valley girl accent and says, “Oh my God, Ben, that is not how Americans talk!"
Even Hanna laughs at his impressions with us.
Our attention is drawn back to the group when Chugs starts setting up a beer bong he brought. We all watch as he takes down a beer in record time, which is, admittedly, a little impressive, even if I don’t understand why one would want to have that ability.
Ben leans over to me. “What I don’t understand is why you need a funnel to get beer down your throat. It’s like, you’re literally pumping beer into your stomach. And then you get too drunk, and you have to get the beer pumped back out. It makes no bloody sense.”
“You want to know what else makes no sense? You’re wearing a bowtie to a party in the woods.” I can’t help but tease him.
“I swear to God Kegels, don’t knock the bowtie.”
“You’re right. It’s pretty snazzy.”
“Why, thank you. Hanna wasn’t exactly clear on where we were going. Now I know why she was laughing at my outfit.”
I look down and notice he’s wearing something close to dress shoes. I giggle. Man, these two just antagonize each other constantly.
He looks down at my outfit. "Aren't your socks supposed to go under your trousers?"
"Then you wouldn't be able to see the patterns. It's also to help prevent ticks from reaching my skin." He gives me a look of alarm like he didn't think of that possibility. "I've got bug spray if you want it."
"Yes, please."
I’ve got a good buzz going, but now those beers are trying to explode out of my bladder. I’ve been trying not to break the seal, but I really gots-ta-go.
I walk over to Allison. “Probably no bathrooms around here, huh?”
“No, you’ll have to pop-a-squat.”
“I figured. You coming?”
“Nah, I have no seal to break. One of few perks of being the DD.”
“Right. Fine. I guess I’ll just go all by myself,” I whine.
She snorts. “I know, I’m breaking the female code of never going to the bathroom alone. I’ve had enough nature walks this week. I’m not doing it anymore unless I absolutely have to. You should go a little farther in though, because some asshole took a picture of that drunk girl peeing.”
“Eww, seriously?”
“Yeah, but I think he got enough shit from people that it’s deleted. Let’s hope so, for her sake.” She looks around. “I don’t see him now. I’ll keep watch.”
“Fine. Thanks.”
I walk away from the party into the tree line a few feet, the music now a distant sound. I search the area with my phone flashlight to make sure I’m not peeing on poison ivy or anything. I can’t even imagine having poison ivy on my vag. Okay, now I’m imagining it. And it’s horrible.
I’m not super practiced at peeing without a toilet, so I have to be really careful not to pee on my jeans. That would be super embarrassing.
After a successful and satisfying pee, I squat a bit longer and use a big leaf I find. I pull up my pants and look around. No one’s seen me. Good.
I’m about to head back to the clearing when I hear some kind of cry for help coming from the woods to my right. Not quite a scream but more than a yelp. It’s cut off, with strange thumps and rustling. It kind of sounds like someone fell down a hill. Weird.
I look back at the party, but everyone is too far away from the scream and too close to the loud music to have heard that.
Without much thought, I head towards the sound, using my phone flashlight to light my way. Someone probably got hurt and needs me to drag their drunk ass out of the woods.
The wind alternately picks up and settles down. I hear a few more yelps and grunts, which are often cut off by the sound of the wind moving through the forest.
I should at least let Allison know what I’m doing and that I may need backup if I find someone who is too hurt or drunk to walk back. I send a quick text to her and continue my trek through the big, beautiful pine trees.
With the full moon out and a sky full of stars, it’s not too dark. And lucky for me, there’s almost no brush. A big gust of wind sweeps my hair back again, bringing with it more sounds of commotion.
I freeze when I hear a new sound not far up ahead. Straining to listen, the wind carries the sound of a low moan, like someone's in pain.
Could someone be really hurt? What if they were attacked by a bear? Or a cougar?
I realize that I’ve gone fairly far into the woods. At first, I went parallel to the party, which didn’t seem like a big deal, but at some point, the sounds must have led me deeper into the woods, in the opposite direction of the party. A little bit of fear settles in my gut as I realize this.
I check my phone to see if Allison texted back, but I don’t have any bars here. Apparently, there’s no service this far out in the middle of nowhere. Damn it.
There’s no reason not to keep going now. I can still hear the party, so it’s not like I’ll get lost. And the sounds seem like they're coming from just up ahead. If I go back now, I may not find the source.
But wouldn’t someone have screamed if they hurt themselves and needed help? Unless they were so inebriated that they couldn’t. Or unless they hit their head too hard.
I walk a little faster, through the trees that tower over me, wanting to find this person and get them out of here. I am wondering if this is a really bad idea. Horrible possibilities fly through my mind of how this could end. But none of them really seem plausible. And while I’m kind of terrified, it’s a little exhilarating, like I’m on a rescue mission. My heart speeds up, nervous butterflies fly around my stomach, and I start thinking of myself as an amateur ninja.
I need to figure out what is making that sound. It might not even be a person. My curiosity has definitely gotten the best of me, and adrenaline is fueling me forwa
rd. The wind sweeps through again, and I realize I no longer hear the moaning. I bring my light up so I can see further into the forest.
Not too far in front of me, I spot two people against a tree. Two men, I think. They look like they’re getting intimately acquainted...
I’m about to take my light off them so I don’t get caught spying when I realize something isn’t right…
I stare at the scene in front of me, my mind trying to make sense of it…something’s not right...
They shift, and metallic red shines in the light.
Blood.
The man with his back to me is holding the other man against a tree, biting his neck. Blood seeps down the man’s chest, he’s motionless, limp, his eyes stare lifelessly at me.
My muscles freeze, my limbs won’t move, can’t move, I can’t even take a breath, can’t hear anything, my vision goes dark, but the image is burned in my mind.
In slow motion, I recover my body, my mind, everything comes back in full force. Fear grips me like a vine that's wound its way throughout my body. It squeezes my throat, making my breathing difficult and shallow; it puts pressure on my gut, causing my bladder to feel full and at the same time making me feel sick; it wraps around my heart, pumping the blood out faster and faster.
I try to focus on breathing, slowly gasping for air, desperately trying to breathe quietly, but I need more air, and I can’t get enough.
Can’t let him hear me.
Can’t let him see me.
But I can’t take my eyes off them.
I’ve never seen so much blood.
Or somebody get attacked.
Or murdered.
I don’t know what to do.
I take one silent step so I’m behind a tree and quickly turn off my phone light.
So stupid. I could have been caught so easily.
I can still make them out, just barely.
The wind picks up more, bringing with it an odd scent while blowing my hair back.
I am at war with myself; my base survival instincts kick in and tell me to run; they have prepared my whole body for the run of my life, but I know to run now, would be to give away my presence. To run would mean to be chased, and I’m not confident I can outrun him. He looks strong, powerful. I’ve walked too far away from the party. But he hasn’t noticed me yet; I can’t let him notice me. I just need to stay still, stay silent.
I check my phone again, but still have no service.
With terror threatening to take over, I hold my ground. The killer drops the crimson-covered man, who slumps to the ground with a thud. His neck, oh my God, his neck. It’s ripped open, I can see it from here. My hand automatically covers my mouth, a reflex to seeing the grisly sight.
The killer stiffens, and then turns around. Glowing eyes seem to stare right at me, and dark wings shoot out from behind his back. I silently shift back behind the tree.
Wings.
Gigantic wings.
It’s not possible.
No.
No, it can’t be.
I couldn’t have seen that.
This can’t be happening.
What is it?
What is it?
A monster.
A monster that can’t exist, but that just killed a man right in front of me, and that just saw me...
I haven’t made a sound; he couldn’t have seen me.
I’m in a shadow of the forest with barely my head poking out from behind a tree.
But it sure seemed like he saw me. Reflective eyes mean he can see in the dark.
No, it’s not possible, not possible. What I just saw can’t exist. It’s a trick of my mind, of the darkness, or someone in costume. It can’t be real.
I have to look, I have to know if he’s seen me, if I need to run.
It takes everything I have not to fall into the fetal position and go catatonic.
I peek around the tree…
He’s right there.
I scream, take a step backwards, and lose my balance. No!
I scramble backwards, away from the monster, but I can’t even get out of his shadow as he slowly takes steps towards me. I know I should turn and run, but I’m afraid to take my eyes off him. He just watches me coldly with his inhuman black pit eyes. He makes a sound like a growl, showing his fanged canine teeth and fully spreading his massive black wings out as he steps toward me again.
I start to smell the blood now. I get a phantom taste of metal in my mouth as I focus on the red running down his mouth and throat.
He’s going to kill me. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his growl, read it in his body language.
“KEEEEGANNNN!” Allison! It sounds like she’s running through the woods toward me.
“HELP!” I shakily yell as loud as I can manage. Light bounces around the trees. The monster looks toward the noise with bared teeth, contemplating, as I hear her getting closer. A beam of light passes quickly over him, his eyes reflecting the light back.
Oh no, will he kill us all now?
The monster looks back down at me, then runs back toward the dead man.
I watch him grab the guy, then push off the earth. With a few big pumps of his wings, he takes off to the sky. The pine needles blow up from where he took off, and I feel a gust of wind a second later.
“Are you okay?”
I turn to see Allison and a guy I vaguely recognize.
“Did you see it?”
“See what?”
“The monster.” I shakily point to the sky.
“Are you talking about the bat?” she asks. I realize that the thing flying in the sky is just a bat. Where did he go? Oh, God, where did he go?
Chapter 6
I wake up to a bright, sun-filled room that isn’t my own. It takes me a second to remember I slept in Allison’s bed, so I wouldn’t have to be alone the whole night.
I spent the night replaying the horrific scene in my head over and over and over with all the details I failed to register at the time.
I picture the torn open flesh and the blood that ran from it. I hear the way his limp body was discarded to the forest floor. I see the look in his eyes, devoid of light, with the terror of his last moments lingering. He was probably my age, a guy from the party. Dead, now, whoever he was.
I picture that monster biting into flesh, the moment his wings unfurled from behind his back, the animalistic look of his face as he stared down at me.
I don’t know how I even mistook the monster for a man. I saw odd shadows on his back, but I didn’t realize that they were wings, folded up wings.
Huge, dark, bat wings. Demon wings.
I battled wave after wave of fear.
I got a close-up look at the monster, but he also got a close-up look at me. He, it, whatever, was half-naked, only wearing some kind of dark shorts. He was huge: muscular, tall, imposing.
I try to recall his face, but my gaze was more drawn to the blood running down his chin, coating his mouth and chin. I didn’t even notice anything about his facial features, except that there was something weird about them. It was too dark to see much detail. I don't know if that's better or worse.
And his eyes, appearing as black pits of evil. As much as I wanted to look away from the demon-like eyes, I couldn’t. And what I saw in them was my own demise. He was going to kill me, and he would have, if not for Allison. I owe her my life for coming to look for me when I took too long and running to me as soon as she heard me scream as I fell.
Will he come back to kill me?
I asked myself that question and every other imaginable question over and over and over. I've come to no conclusions, found no answers.
Except maybe that I am utterly and completely fucked.
All night, panic would rise up through my belly, and my guts would twist inside me every time my thoughts went too dark. I struggled to wrap my mind around what happened, what I saw, what it will mean for me.
I didn’t cry. Mostly I wanted to scream out my fear and frustration.
I wanted to hide. I actually debated sleeping in the closet. It’s roomy enough, and I felt too out in the open in the room.
It was dark in the room. Too dark, yet not dark enough. The shadows played tricks on my eyes; my mind saw dark forms take shape in front of me, reaching for me. I worked myself into a frenzy waiting for an attack. I knew they weren’t real.
