The Beast (2 page)

              Within a few silent moments we were both on our backs, shoulder to shoulder, with our feet hanging off of opposite ends of the towel. It felt like I could almost hear his heartbeat, even though we weren't touching.

              "Why did you bring me here?" I asked.

              I could feel him smile. It was like the warmth on that side of me got just a little bit warmer.

              "I had to," he said. "I saw a beautiful woman in distress and it was my duty to whisk her away to a beautiful place."

              "I'm not beautiful," I said. I wished instantly that I could have taken it back. It felt wrong to say it. It was the product of all the years of nonsense that happened in the blink of an eye compared to the immortality of the mountain that supported me under the blanket of stars.

              He didn't acknowledge the comment. I searched for something else to say, but found nothing. A lizard splashed through the stream and I fell into a comfortable silence, feeling as though I'd known Simon all my life.

              Silence woke me.

              I didn’t even realized that I'd fallen asleep. There were no yips from coyotes or squeaking night birds. The crickets were silent. Nothing moved. All around, even the trees and the tall dry grass were silent and still.

              For one confused moment I wondered if this was death.

              A loud crash broke the silence. The old oak shook violently, sending sprays of leaves and a hail of acorns raining down. Its disturbed occupants scrambled and skittered noisily to get away. I was on my feet without being aware of my own movement. Simon's car keys were in my hand but Simon himself was nowhere to be seen.

              Suddenly, a strange man stood between me and the path to the car.

              "My sweet prize," he said. His breath was foul and sections of long blonde hair stuck to his face.

              I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could utter a sound, a huge shape shot itself at the stranger and knocked him over. I couldn't see them as they rolled down the embankment alongside the little creek.

              I ran. My slow clumsy feet hardly carried me four steps before he caught my hair and my head jerked back. I let out a tiny cry of pain and almost fell when my feet moved out from under me, but a solid arm caught me like a metal pole across my midsection. My ribs ached and all of the air in my body left in a rush. Hot blood trickled down my scalp to my neck while I fought my own diaphragm to expand so I could breathe. My body reeled with pain but the steely grip in my hair kept me upright. Finally I coughed and inhaled. 

              Before I sucked in enough air to scream, a hand clamped over my mouth. Blurred lights sparkled in my vision as tears welled up and fell down my panicked face. He leaned close, inhaled deeply and I couldn't help but smell him in return. The stench gagged me. I didn’t want to die. I'd only been tired and hungry and angry when I thought that I wouldn’t care if I did. Simon's keys bit into my palm when I tried to ball up my hands into determined fists.

              I wriggled, fought, tried to survive, but the stranger threw me forward so that I spun around to face him, and the claws that tipped his fingers opened gashes in my sweater and my skin.

              "Shh, sweet prize," he said, in a voice more reptile than human. "No more protector. You're mine now."

              I followed the direction of his turned head to see a massive shape lying crumpled on the field. An arm, too long and thick to be entirely human lay limp in the grass. I opened my eyes wide to try to get a better look, to see what the thing was, but the reeking stranger got my attention with a rough shake.

              "Mine," the stranger repeated in his loud whispery voice. I couldn't see him very well in the darkness. Clouds had moved in and even my friends the stars were hidden from me. I was completely alone.

              He let out a quiet chuckle and dropped me. He stood still, poised, ready to attack again, playing with me. He wanted me to run so that he could chase me down. I froze in place, but he would wait until I broke. I heard a sob escape my throat.

              In a flash, the crumpled beast- it
was
a beast- slammed the stranger onto his back. Massive claws rose up high and tore at the stranger, too quick to see. Smoke rose from the reeking blonde man's body. The creature rose on two legs and threw the stranger like a rag doll with all the stuffing torn out, over the edge of the cliff.

              The shadow of the blurry dark thing turn its muzzled face toward me with smoke rising from the long fingers at the end of its long, not quite human arms. I shook, still frozen, until the beast jumped off the cliff to follow the body. The acrid stench of burning meat and hair assaulted my nostrils and my airways and pushed me toward the road.

              I splashed clumsily through the little stream, barely as wide as my foot was long, and scrambled not to slip while I raced through the blanket of fallen leaves that clung to my muddy jeans.

              After what felt like a nightmare hour of running in slow motion I reached the car and threw myself inside. The keys threatened to fall into blackness when I fumbled with them for an instant before I jammed the car key into the ignition and turned it. The headlights uselessly spilled dim yellow light onto the black road and I suddenly felt like a neon target- blind but very visible. I kicked the gas pedal and the tires kicked up gravel for a second before they found traction and the car lurched forward.

              I started to breathe again when I was out of the mountains. I felt, too acutely, the soda and mud on my jeans and the cold blood across my ribs and stomach. The hardened blood down my back cracked when I moved and pulled at the hairs on the back of my neck. I didn’t know where I was going until I pulled up at the gas station and parked the car.

              Shaking, I almost fell when I saw my reflection in the window of the closed mini mart. My hair was a mess of leaves and twigs, matted with drying blood. Dark stripes formed against the light blue of my torn sweater and my jeans were all leaves and filth. I didn't waste time staring as I hurried to my own car and jumped in.

              I screamed when the stereo came to life with laughing radio hosts. I snapped it off and started driving, barely able to hear over my own pounding heart. A parking ticket rattled in the wind, plastered to my windshield by the spilled soda except for a corner that frantically beat at my window. A street lamp shone through the paper and I saw the cost of the ticket, in bold black ink. Thirty two dollars. It was a wonder that my car wasn't towed for being parked at the pump for so long.

              By the time I reached my apartment building the whole encounter felt too impossible to have actually happened. The wind that slipped its cold fingers through the holes of my sweater to tickle my bleeding ribs convinced me otherwise. 

              On the way up to my door some drunk teenager smoking a cigarette on the stairs tilted a bottle of vodka toward me, offering the neck. "Rough day lady?"

              I passed him, ignoring the bottle and the question. I was shaking harder, nearly convulsing when I let myself into my apartment. I climbed into bed under the pile of abandoned mail on the comforter and curled up under the thick blankets until I felt like I was going to suffocate. Only then did I slowly uncover my head and look around.

              The only beast around was a spider on the ceiling across the room. I silently thanked it for being the scariest thing that might have to be dealt with.

              Twisted in the blanket and sheets, I watched the spider make shaky progress across the room. I don’t know how long it took before I started to feel normal again. It was all just a bad nightmare. By the time the spider reached the corner of the wall I felt safe again. I'd never known what danger felt like before the stinking blonde caught me and for what felt like the first time in my life I knew safety. With the sunrise filtering in through my closed blinds, I drifted off to sleep.

chapter 2

Things went downhill from the moment I woke up. When I tried to stretch, my body ached and my skin tore. My hair crunched when I turned my head. Stiff jeans cracked as they pulled away from my legs.

              It wasn’t a bad dream.

              Every muscle screamed in protest as I forced my legs to leave the bed and ordered the rest of my body to follow. My sheets and comforter were ruined. Spiky oak leaves and dried mud sprinkled the carpet. Dried blood clung to everything. I'd have to visit the laundromat, the floor would need to be vacuumed, and I’d have to wipe down the walls. 

              Shaking legs carried me to the bathroom where a filthy hand reached out and turned on the water. I wondered if I should have gone to the police.

              And say what? That I got into a stranger's car and was attacked by monsters? Best case scenario they’d say I was asking for it. Most realistic scenario they’d think I was having a psychotic break. Maybe I was.

              I unzipped my sweater and let it fall to the floor. It did not escape my notice that the torn and bloody blouse beneath it was new.

              My spine and stomach both screamed white hot protest when I tried to remove my jeans, and my arms refused to pull the shirt up over my head.  I crawled into the tub, still dressed, and lay in fetal position under the flow of water. The water stung and made my clothes heavy, but I everything hurt so much already and I could hardly lift my own weight.

              The one thing I liked about living in an apartment was the endless hot water. Growing up in an ancient farmhouse, we only had a small water heater that barely worked. In the winter it stung like icicles to shower. Nothing like the fire that I let burn into all of my cuts and pin me to the tub floor. I don't know how long I was in there, or how many handfuls of leafy goo I threw into the trash can by the toilet when it clogged the drain, but eventually I pushed myself up far enough to pull a pair of hair scissors from the drawer under the sink. I cut my shirt up the middle and wriggled my arms out of the sleeves. The ruined shirt hit the floor with a loud splat. The jeans were next. I wasn't ready to stand up so I cut through the waistband and down the length of each leg. I started replaying the night over and over in my mind as I the scissors made their chilling snipping sound, two knifes rubbing together over and over. Simon had vanished and the beast had appeared. A beast with a muzzle who stood on two legs. A beast with ape like arms and elongated feet.

              Splashing snapped me out of the memory. I shut the water off and pulled sopping piles of shredded denim away from the blocked drain. When the water was low enough I climbed out, stripped out of my bra and panties, and started to take a real shower. Eventually I sank again and knelt under the water, letting it comb my hair, pulling leaves and twigs and clumps of hair out, dropping everything onto the pile of ruined clothes. I distantly wondered if I’d have any hair left by the time I could pull a comb through it.  

              I dripped on the floor on the way to the linen closet to get a towel. The cold air pricked my skin into goose bumps and sent fresh waves of pain across my wounds like electricity. My heavy arms pulled a pile of towels down to the floor, but I held onto two. I wrapped one around my waist and one around my shoulders. It was already after noon. By the time I stopped rocking on the couch it was four and my hair was dry.

              With the realization that there was no one but me to clean up the mess, and knowing that I would eventually have to face life again, I rose.

              I balled the bedding up and threw the pile of sopping ruined clothes in the trash. I kicked some of the fallen towels from the hallway to the bathroom and used them to clean up the spill. I threw the entire scattered pile of mail from my bedroom floor into the trash can. If anything in there was important, they’d send it again.

              When I went into the bathroom to retrieve the wet towels, my reflection stopped me in my tracks. It wasn't good. Top to bottom, I was a mess. Even though I'd combed it, my long hair stuck out unevenly. Instead of being thick, shiny and obedient it was frizzy and had thin spots. I pulled it back into a ponytail, the least unattractive option. My chest looked fine, like nothing at all had happened, but an enormous bruise bloomed across my lower ribs. It was yellow in the center, with blue, purple and green reaching out like petals. My sides bore angry red stripes from knife-like claws. One of the cuts connected to the bruise in the front, a bleeding stem for the painful flower.

              My hip, which I couldn't recall hitting anything, had also bruised down to my thigh. The soda and mud had soaked into my skin for too long and the skin on my calf was peeling. It was going to be a hot afternoon but shorts were out of the question.  I was thankful that my arms, like my chest, had escaped any severe damage.

              My face was another story. A little purple bruise slashed across my cheek. My eyes were puffy and red. My top lip was half swollen and a sore was forming where I must have bitten it.

              Reluctantly, I pulled out my little makeup bag and went to work. By six I was dressed and my face was made up. I grabbed the cup of quarters I kept for laundry and reached for the door.

              I couldn’t open it. My hand hovered ever the lock but I couldn't bring myself to turn it. I had spent the whole day avoiding this moment. I wasn't in such great pain that I needed a hospital. I'd been sore and bruised before, so what kept me frozen there?

              It was the first time I'd ever been attacked.

              The man who attacked me wasn't entirely a man. The thing that had saved me wasn't a man at all.

              So what were they? What was the blonde man with his inhuman speed and steel bar of an arm? What was the beast with its narrow waist and broad curved back?

              I shook my head, unwilling to think about it. It wasn't real. Things like that weren't real.

              After a deep breath that made my ribs pop, I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Sunlight greeted me. A pair of the neighbor boys rode scooters on the strip of sidewalk while a trio of girls enjoyed a tea party on the grass.

              It was all so blissfully normal.

              I slung the trash into the dumpster and went back for the muddy bedding and wet towels. I shoved them into the trunk before I tried to peel the ticket from my windshield, but it only shredded and came off in little clumps of pulp before I gave up and climbed into my car.

              Simon's keys sat on the passenger seat where I'd thrown them. What happened to him? Was he okay? Was he there when it all went down?

              The radio made me jump again and I reached to switch it off until something the host said caught my attention.

              "These bodies are being found with parts of them eaten and perfect holes in them like it’s cattle mutilation."

              The female co-host chimed in, "You know; I saw a documentary about cattle mutilation and they actually took video of wild dogs eating cow bellies and they left almost perfect circles like a razor did it. It's the way their jaws are formed, the teeth work like scissors."

              "I still say its aliens," said the host.

              They both laughed, and the co-host countered "I still say it's a coyote. Their natural prey is threatened and depleted so they're going after humans. Happens all the time."

              "Well, either way," said the host. "Stay out of the hills at night and don't go alone. There's safety in numbers. Whatever or whoever is out there is a real threat. After the break we have a doctor who is going to tell you why you should eat your boogers and drink your urine. Not sure I'm ready to try it but the evidence is compelling."

              The volume faded to a commercial break as the co-host said "You know it sounds gross but it's really interesting. I've got a lot of questions."

              I turned the radio off and shivered.

              I waved the neighbor on who had been waiting patiently for me to pull out of the carport and drove out to the gas station in silence. Simon's car wasn't there. Maybe he had a spare key. Or maybe it got towed.

              Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe I was losing my mind. I looked at the keys on my passenger seat for confirmation that I wasn’t losing it. Still there.

              I shoved my comforter in an expensive washer at the laundromat that was mostly used for horse blankets and threw the sheets and towels into another.

              The smells of the Mexican restaurant next door were a mouthwatering reminder that I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. Even that had only been half of a bagel sandwich. Suddenly desperately hungry, I went in.

              "Jade, you got my text!"

              My friend Sandra waved from a table, already sitting with two men. Her big green eyes scanned my confused face. I shook my head.

              "Phone's still broken," I said.

              "That's what I thought. What a coincidence then." She jumped up and hugged me. Her silky blonde hair wrapped me in the comforting smell of artificial strawberries from the shampoo she’d been using since she was nine. "Anyway, it just said that I was going out to dinner with Jack and his brother and you should meet us at Number Three. Our table’s over here."

              The restaurant had a real name, but it was something long and in Spanish, but it ended in “No. 3” so we just called it Number Three. We often wondered where One and Two were, but we'd never seen them and any time we ever gave serious thought to finding them, we were too drunk to care. The place had killer margaritas.

              I sat and nodded a stiff necked greeting to Jack, the black haired man sitting next to Sandra, and his brother Cole.

              "That's so funny you came here anyway," Sandra said. "When are you getting a new phone anyway? Man, I really need to stop saying anyway today." She turned to Jack, "Anyway, everything here is amazing but I love, love,
love
the enchiladas. And the margaritas. Especially the margaritas."

              She giggled and I smiled. She tossed her sandy blonde hair and called the waiter to order.

              I ordered a bean and cheese burrito.

              Sandra ordered a whole deep fried fish and four margaritas.

              My stomach was in tight knots by the time my burrito arrived, covered in enchilada sauce and dominating a dinner plate.

              I sipped at the margarita and tore into the burrito with fork and knife until all thoughts of creatures and killers and even the pain in my ribs was forgotten.

              I slipped next door to change my laundry to the dryer and when I came back, my empty plate had been taken away and my empty margarita glass had been replaced with a full one.

              "I ordered dessert," Sandra said. "And more drinks. You've got some catching up to do. Wanna do a shot?"

              I smiled and shook my head. The scene on the little TV in the corner ruined the illusion of normalcy.

              A fire on the screen caught my eye. The volume was too low to hear what they were saying about it, but I knew the freeway they were showing. I knew the car in the center of the blaze, too.

              I sat down, as drawn and white as a new sheet. How could I explain to Sandra and two near strangers what happened- what was happening? I couldn't, so I said nothing. I couldn't just leave my friend and my laundry and drive through the police barriers to see- what? See if Simon was inside? Any options were completely absurd so I did nothing. 

              Jack looked back at the TV to see what I was staring at, but no one asked.

              "I told you she's weird," Sandra giggled from behind her glass. I threw a broken chip at her and forced a laugh.

              We lingered through another round of margaritas and I kept my eyes firmly planted downward. I refused to let them drift back to the screen. If they pulled out a body… I looked down at the table again. No body.

              Finally, after deep fried ice cream, an apple chimichanga, and enough tequila to fill me with warm confidence that the world was still how it always had been, I stuffed my hot laundry into the backseat of my car. The trunk would have to be cleaned some other time.

              Sandra offered to take me back to her place where they were planning on watching a movie, playing a board game, and utilizing her hot tub. I wanted to decline, to do the responsible thing and go home, maybe to a hospital, and-.

              And what? Lay awake in fear all night? I couldn’t do that. Replay the previous night over and over in my mind? I didn't want that. I didn’t want to be alone. Besides, it wouldn't be very responsible to drive after three margaritas.

Like it's better to let someone else drive after four.

              "Come on," Sandra pleaded, holding my arm with both hands and shaking it. "I'll bring you back to your car later. Please? It won't be the same without you."