by Martha Woods
“Hey,” He called out, holding his flashlight up and aiming it down the alleyway, “I can hear you! Come on out!”
At first the light didn’t catch anything, but when he swept it across to the corner he froze in place at what he saw, his blood turning to ice and his heart stopping, what he was seeing was very much not what he had wanted to see.
It was indeed someone standing at the end of the alleyway, not some large raccoon that someone had mistaken as a man, but that was about where the similarities between what they had seen and what he was seeing ended. Their eyes were blood red, like staring into two pools of red wine, their mouth hanging open and sharpened teeth shining from the flashlight. They were breathing, though there was no sound coming from them, he had a feeling that no air was actually going into their body at all.
Yep, this was definitely paranormal, definitely not something that he had seen before, and definitely not what he wanted to be staring at him.
“Alright,” He said, holding his hand out and backing away slowly, “How about we don’t go nuts over this, and we just… be calm, ok? Does that sound good?”
The creature at the end of the alley grunted, taking one step forward before it disappeared completely, leaving him barely aware of what had happened until he felt a hand grabbing around his neck and lifting him upwards, the world leaving his feet for a few seconds as he sailed through the air and slammed down onto the roof, landing with a rib cracking impact and leaving him breathless.
“Wha-” He started, before he saw the creature crouched right over him, so close that he could smell the blood on its breath, see his reflection in its blood red eyes, and for the first time in a long time he felt real, genuine fear. Not the kind that kept him up at night, the kind that sent him panicking in the corner thinking that his world was falling apart around him, the same fear that he’d felt when he’d seen his father fall right in front of him.
The creature sniffed, dragging its fang along his neck before it narrowed its eyes, pupils like points as they glared into his very soul. “More like you…” It whispered, more akin to a rattle than a voice, “Can smell it, more like you, more animals like you.”
“I-I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jamie said, holding his hands up slowly to show he wasn’t a threat. Perhaps not what he should do when there was a predator crouched over him. “Whatever this is, I don’t know anything, ok?”
“My city,” The creature said, hissing it out in an obvious warning, “Tell them this is my city, they can’t have it. Will fight to keep it.”
“Tell who?” He asked, now genuinely confused and curious, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about, can you just tell me that much?”
It was obviously not trusting of him, but it seemed to be able to sniff out the difference between truth and lies. In the position that he was in right now he wasn’t exactly in the position to be able to lie convincingly, so instead he figured he’d tell the truth and see how that worked. And the truth of the matter was that he had never been more confused at any point in his recent memory.
“You bear,” The creature said, jabbing its finger into his chest, before pointing away from them, “They bears. They come here, many of them, with wolf. Come here to take what’s mine. Yes?”
“I don’t know,” He answered, “If they’ve come here, I’m not a part of it, I’m telling the truth on that. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t want to be involved, I just want to get out of here and go home, can you let me do that? Can you just let me go home?”
It took one last sniff of him, before grunting dismissively and tossing him to the side.
Right off the side of the building, from about four stories up.
Jamie landed on his face, knowing that he was definitely going to have a bruise to show for that tonight, but he figured that was better than having his esophagus ripped out by some creature of the night that should have only existed in one of Rachel’s crappy movies. With that thought in mind he just lay there for a moment before pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, shaking his head out and picking a piece of gravel out of his cheek. “What… the fuck… was that?”
Jamie pushed himself to stand, brushing down the front of his clothing before straightening up and walking inside, coming face to face with a concerned Rachel, whose concern morphed instantly into horror upon seeing the state of his face. “Oh my… god!” She shouted, “Are you ok?”
“Trashman’s real,” He said, feeling his knees starting to buckle, “Don’t go out there.”
Then he collapsed forward, smacking his head against the tile again for good measure. Tonight just wasn’t his night.
“He just fell down?” Cliff asked, lifting Jamie into a seat in the back office and making sure that his neck was secure, “What happened to him?”
“I-I don’t know,” Rachel stammered, hand in her hair and barely able to think straight, “I saw him by the door earlier and then suddenly he’s walking back in with his face all scratched up, it doesn’t make any sense!”
Cliff nodded, satisfied that for the moment Jamie was safe before turning back to the door. “I’m going to go get him a cold rag and a glass of water, you watch over him until I get back. If he wakes up just make sure that he doesn’t move.”
Rachel knelt next to Jamie, watching the rise and fall of his chest with a thankful sigh, placing her hand on his thigh and squeezing gently, thumb rubbing delicate circles through the fabric of his pants. “What happened to you?”
“Uh…” He groaned, eyes clenching tighter and his hand twitching at his side, lifting his head slowly as though he was lifting a five ton weight. Rachel leaned closer, moving her hand to his damaged cheek to make sure that he didn’t move his head too much, the corner of his mouth turning upwards at the contact. “That feels nice…”
“Don’t move,” She said, “You look really bad, I don’t know what happened out there but whatever it was… just take it easy, ok?”
“I’ll be fine,” He replied, eyes opening and his eyes staring back at her, slightly clouded through the fog in his head. He was still seeing double, not quite himself as he leaned his head back and reached up to grab her hand with his own.
Rachel moved to take his hand and place it back at his side, but before she could let go of his cheek she felt something… peculiar beneath her palm, like something was moving on the surface of his skin. Pulling her hand back and looking at his cheek, her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide, the sight in front of her so incomprehensibly impossible that she could hardly believe that what she was seeing was real. There wasn’t something moving on the surface of his skin, what was moving was his skin, knitting back together where there had been gashes and scrapes, blood washing away and leaving behind only the pristine, smooth skin that she knew so well.
“See?” He said, smiling dazedly, “I’m fine.”
“What… was that?” She asked, stumbling back a step and holding her hand out, not quite fleeing but not making an effort to stay close anymore, “How did you do that?”
“Don’t worry about it,” He said, head falling forward and his voice going into a mumble, “Why am I so tired…”
It was clear to her that she wasn’t going to get any answers out of him, not in the state that he was in, but she so desperately wanted any one of her questions to have even a working theory, something to explain how something so impossible had happened right in front of her very eyes. She wanted some reassurance that she wasn’t just going completely insane.
“Is he alright?” Cliff asked, walking back in with a rag in one hand and a glass of water in the other, “I thought I heard voices.”
Rachel opened her mouth, ready to tell him what she had seen before she froze, pinching her lips shut and shaking her head. There was no possible way that he would believe her, and if he did there was no telling what he would do, how he would decide to handle this situation. The idea of someone being able to knit themselves back together again was very much an un
comfortable one, more one akin to… to monsters. She didn’t consider Jamie to be a monster, nothing he could do would ever make her think that, but it was very easy now to see how someone might come to think that.
“He woke up before, but I think he’s gone back to sleep now. He was speaking clearly, I wiped off his face though, I think it was a small comfort.”
“Good.” Cliff nodded, handing her the rag and placing the glass by her side, before grimacing apologetically. “I gotta go take care of the diners, can you handle this?”
“I’ve got this,” She said, “Just leave it to me. And… thank you for helping us with this.”
“Whatever happened to him happened because he was here,” Cliff said, glancing at the back door, “I want to know what it was, but I’ll settle for making sure he’s alright for now.”
She could agree with that, in every way, and though she absolutely still had some major questions that needed answering, they could wait until she was certain that Jamie wasn’t going to be leaving her anytime soon. Just because his cheek had healed didn’t mean everything was inside, and it was a hard fall that he’d taken right onto his head, there was no telling what could have gotten scrambled from the impact.
Cliff left her alone with him and the rag, cold against her hand as she wiped along his forehead and along his lips, his breath hitching in his sleep and his eyelids flickering with the barest of movements. There was some comfort to be had at least, that was a nice thought to have right now, and it would serve her just fine until the answers came.
“I sure picked a weird person to have as a best friend huh?” She asked, more to the room than to him, “I swear, you better buy me dinner after all of this, you owe me more than a few answers.”
“Whatever… you need…” Jamie mumbled, drifting in and out of consciousness as easily as breathing, catching what little pieces of what she was saying before he fell back into darkness again.
Rachel shook her head, grimacing at feeling a particularly nasty bump underneath his skin before that same strange, knitting feeling drifted into her palm, and soon enough the bump was no longer a bump, rather it was nothing more than just smooth skin on the head that seemed to be no worse for wear than it had been that morning.
“What the hell… is going on?”
An hour later and he had woken up fully, though still not quite certain of what had happened over the last few hours, clutching at his head to quell the worst of the headache that he could feel pulsing beneath his temple. Though he’d offered to stay behind and let Rachel finish her shift, both Cliff and herself had decided it was in his best interest to get him back home, waiting around in the backroom of a diner wasn’t going to do anything good for his condition at any rate.
So a few minutes later he’d been bundled into a taxi, Rachel sliding in beside him and requesting for them to be driven back to the dorm, her hand still clutching that wet rag and dabbing at his skin every now and then, and he was honestly too perplexed and confused at the feeling to ask her to stop in any substantial way.
“What are you doing?” He’d asked her, only to smile at the resulting eyeroll and clipped response when she’d told him that she was taking care of him, and any word of question would only get him tossed out onto the pavement outside. He shouldn’t have laughed, he knew that whatever had happened it must have been rough on her seeing him in whatever condition he had been in, but seeing her even now with her usual attitude, just daring him to say something in protest… it was nice, it made him feel like things were normal again, for however long that would last.
Then he remembered that he had told her about his past, though not any of the details of what he was, and suddenly he was struck with a very cold lump of fear in his chest that perhaps he had managed to let something slip when he hadn’t meant to. It would make sense, if he was sufficiently out of it he’d probably be feeling a little more trusting than usual, they already shared a significant bond and if he’d been so honest with her already… there was no telling what exactly he’d told her.
“We’re here,” She said, pushing open the door and crossing over to his side, taking his arm over her shoulder and helping him walk up the stairs towards their dorm. The hallways weren’t packed by any means, but there were still some out and about, crossing from dorm room to dorm room in search of sex or alcohol, there were no secrets and no judgement about either of those needs here, though the looks that some of them gave the two of them were annoying in their open interest, before it turned to concern.
“Hey is he alright?” Asked one of the residents, leaning against his door frame and looking up from his girlfriend, the both of them looking at Jamie’s collar, blood staining the white fabric and dripping down his chest.
“He’s fine,” Rachel answered, smiling at their concern but also pointedly moving towards her door, “Just fell over, that’s all, thanks for worrying.”
Shoving the door open and dropping Jamie onto her bed, she took a moment to gather her breath before collapsing back into her chair, placing her head in her hands and groaning at the top of her lungs. Jamie’s headache had faded away into the back of his mind, no more than a dull pulse every now and then, but he was still careful as he leaned on his elbows and looked over at her, clearing his throat before asking, “Rachel? Is everything ok?”
She shook her head, no looking at him but not needing to look at him to get her point across, just letting the air blow through her lips and her thumbs tap across her skull. “No,” She said, “Everything is not ok.”
When their eyes met it was with something that he had honestly never seen before, at the very least not directed at him. It was fear, real, genuine fear, as though she’d just looked under the bed and found out that the boogeyman was in fact real. That lump of ice in his chest bloomed and scattered across his entire insides, freezing tendrils taking hold of his heart and squeezing down until he barely felt he could take a single breath without passing out.
He had definitely let something slip, and if he could read that look on her face it was something bad. The only question was… what was it?
“Rachel,” He said, “I know it might seem scary now, I’m kind of scared myself, but whatever it is… you need to tell me about it, ok? I promise, I want to help you.”
“I know you do,” She said, allowing the barest of smiles to crease the corner of her mouth before shaking her head, “But that’s not what I’m scared of, what I’m scared of is… I’m scared of actually knowing, you know? I don’t know if I want you to tell me.”
Chancing that she wouldn’t run away immediately, he slid towards the end of the bed and sat up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, not trusting himself to not reach out towards her and potentially spook her even more than she already was. It wasn’t a pleasant condition that he’d come back in, that much was obvious, and if he hadn’t said anything… it was incredibly likely that she’d seen something.
“Rachel, whatever it was, you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” He asked the question with obvious concern in his voice, not just because he wanted to make sure that she knew he was telling the truth, but because he was genuinely afraid that she might actually be scared of him, of what he can or could do. Truth be told, he’d spent many nights up staring at the ceiling, thinking of the things that he’d done and had done to him, the things that he knew he was capable of and the depths that he could sink to. All the years, all the fights and all the time that had passed him by in relative peace and isolation from his old life, and he still could never forget a single second of what he had lived through. The thought of bringing some of that back from the dead, to dump it so unceremoniously on the floor of his best friend’s room… it didn’t sit well with him, for many reasons, but it felt wrong to dredge this up from the pit of his mind.
Rachel sighed, resting her face in the palm of her hand for a moment before she looked back up at him, looking so much more tired than she normally did at this time of night
. “Jamie I… how much of tonight do you remember? Be honest with me, do you remember going outside?”
Squeezing his eyes closed, willing the pulse in his temple not to turn into anything more painful, he did his best to sort through everything that he could recollect, to connect some event to the blood that was on his collar, but he could find none. Just a memory of opening that door to go outside, and then a flash of… something, something that he couldn’t quite connect to any other memory that he had ever had.
“I’m sorry I… can’t, not really. Just leaving, and then waking up to you dabbing my forehead with that rag that you’re still holding.”
Belatedly realizing that she was in fact still holding the rag, she tossed it into the corner of her room before she got up from her chair, crossing the room and sitting herself next to him and taking his hand. “Jamie, when you came back your face was all scratched up, and it was scratched up badly. It looked like someone had thrown you face first into the concrete, and then dragged you for a few feet for good measure, you looked terrible.” Chuckling to herself, a sound that Jamie was honestly surprised to hear, she said, “I was worried for a bit, your face is one of your best features.”
“Well,” He coughed, blushing slightly and rubbing at his cheeks in the hope that she wouldn’t notice, “I’m glad that it didn’t end up lasting huh?”
His eyes widened, connecting what she had said and what he felt now, the smoothness of his cheek, the lack of roughness from damage, and suddenly he knew exactly what had happened. The one thing that he couldn’t really control, even when he wanted to.
