Bright Moon (5 page)

He dabbed at the wound a little more then
pushed a padded bandage to her shoulder. “That will have to do
until morning,” he said as he pressed the tape to her skin.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. He led her
back to the hall and to another door, pushing it open.

“Your room,” he said through gritted
teeth.

“
My
room?”

“Yes,
your
room.”

“But…what about you?” she protested,
reluctant to leave him on his own. “You aren’t in any condition
to—”

He laughed as if she’d made a joke and
leaned toward her again. Taking a hold of her jaw he drew her
close. When their lips were almost touching, he stopped. “I will be
fine, try to rest and don’t come out until morning, alright?”

She blinked and found it hard to breathe.
“Alright,” she squeaked. He suddenly wasn’t the only one trembling.
He released her and she backed into the room. He shut the door
before she turned on the light. She stood there, taking deep
breaths to regain some functioning ability. Once her senses
returned, she flipped the switch on. The room was beautifully
detailed and took her a moment to absorb.

Three windows stretched from floor to
ceiling and were covered with sheer curtains. A bed was situated so
the stars could be seen while laying on it. The bed itself was huge
and seemed excessive with posts draped with the same fabric as the
curtains. The fabrics were shades of soft blue and lavender. The
carpet was a dusty blue and the walls were painted soft pink. There
was a dresser and a little sofa with a matching coffee table. A
small fridge stood on the counter of a kitchen sink tucked in the
furthest corner of the room. On the wall opposite the bed, a large
flat screen TV was mounted.

Presently she kicked off her shoes and was
about to flop onto the bed when she noticed an outfit rolled up and
tucked into a pillow. The presence of such articles of clothing
mystified her, yet she was grateful to have something clean to
wear. She snatched them up and went to the bathroom, impressed by
the level of luxury. Everything she could possibly need was there.
There was a packaged toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and even
little bottles of shampoo in the shower.

After brushing her teeth and washing her
face, she changed into the cotton black bottoms and red tee, turned
off the lights and went to climb into the humongous bed. She pulled
the covers tight around her like a cocoon then gently drifted into
sleep.

An astonishing
recollection of the previous evening’s events drew her from the
sound slumber she sustained through what was left of the night.
Morning dawned bright and new. Light splayed through the curtains
even though it was much earlier than she’d anticipated waking after
getting to sleep so late. A pink rose occupied a glass vase which
sat atop the glossy surface of the chestnut nightstand. Try as she
might, she couldn’t recall if it had been there the night
before.

The hollow in the pit of her stomach drove
her from the safety of bed. Otherwise, she would have stayed
wrapped in cushy warmth as long as she could have gotten away with
it. The dirty and bloodied clothes she’d worn the day before were
missing. In the bathroom, everything she’d used had been replaced
like she hadn’t been there at all. When she ventured to the hall,
the house was quiet. She didn’t know where Tyson was, nor did she
know if there were others around. The thick quiet made her feel as
if she had stepped into a library, so she tiptoed, winding her way
to the kitchen, succeeding in finding it after getting lost only
once. Like everything else, it was handsome and grand. The cabinets
were stained black and the counters were granite. It might have
been solemn if not for the happy sunflowers that decorated the tops
of the cabinets and stainless steel refrigerator. A table, the same
black of the cabinets, was beyond the counter. On it, a bowl of
fruit resided in the center and she snatched a banana, feeling a
thief in the alien surroundings.

Soft sunlight poured through a set of double
doors that led to a beckoning backyard. Slowly, carefully, she went
and opened the door nearest her to step onto the patio. She
breathed deeply of the fresh morning air. A garden nearby lent the
scent of exotic flowers. She could also smell the damp grass of the
expansive and well cared for lawn, which mingled with the deep soft
scent of soil. Hearing the chitter-chatter of birds completed the
serene scene. She bit into her banana while waiting for the pink
tinge in the morning sky to change.

Unease crossed the yard when the chirping of
birds suddenly stopped. Flocks of the little creatures suddenly
took to the air in every direction. The low rumble of numerous,
powerful legs hitting the earth was heard and felt as the ground
grumbled. She glanced around as the sound grew increasingly louder.
Her heart almost stopped when someone jerked her from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tyson’s cold, accusing
eyes stared down at her. He had a hand on either of her shoulders.
Color had returned to his face and he looked a thousand times
better than the night before, even if he frowned. His strength was
ominous now that he wore a form fitting tee. His firm, square jaw
clenched and his stern brow knit in apparent anger. He glanced over
her head and beyond the yard. With little effort, he pushed her
inside then moved with such speed that she lost sight of him.

An atrociously monstrous noise filled the
air. Dozens of enormous wild dogs came over the rise. Their
presence consumed the backyard. Awful howling drowned out any other
thought or feeling. The manged beasts were larger than any house
dog she’d ever seen, but that’s what they appeared to be—huge
domesticated dogs that had gone crazy with some kind of
disease.

Everything happened so quickly that she had
a hard time following the action from where she stood just inside
the kitchen. The beasts were digging up earth as they ran at the
house. Tyson stood on slightly bent legs with his arms raised to
brace for impact. His straw hair contrasted with the dull color of
the attacking beasts. A scream of protest wanted to break free of
her throat, but there wasn’t time for even that.

One of the great mutts flew through the air,
his hideous crazed eyes bulging. The mass of the monster was twice
Tyson’s, so when he grabbed it out of the air and threw it to the
ground with tremendous force, she was shocked to say the least. Her
mouth fell open and she gasped. The whine of the dying creature cut
through the deafening noise and its body was crushed on impact. She
stared in grotesque awe, too horrified to move. The other dogs
recognized Tyson as a threat and ran for him, their jaws agape. He
caught one by its snout with one hand on its nose and the other on
its lower jaw. The beast stopped short and he pried its jaws apart
until they gave with a gut wrenching snap. They kept attacking
despite his display of strength. Her stomach rolled and she tuned
away, running right smack into a very solid person who almost sent
her careening. She recognized his smell before her head snapped
back for visual confirmation.

“Callan!” she gasped, but his attention was
fixated on the wild dogs outside. He grabbed her shoulders and
pushed her further in the house before bolting out. She was hurt by
his lack of emotion and terrified to think of him fighting the
monsters. With her heart in her throat she screamed, “Callan,
no!”

He didn’t listen and moved with inhuman
speed to meet the onslaught of dogs. He leapt at one of them and
crushed it with so much strength and ability that she was shocked
to silence once more. A rush of wind startled her as someone ran by
so fast her hair whipped her face. Another man appeared on the
lawn, blocking the crazed creatures as they tried to get to her.
The third addition was the shortest of the three and wore dark
clothing.

Beasts kept coming, one right after another,
until there was a small mountain of bodies. The barking and howling
lessened in time and she tore her eyes from the horrific scene when
Callan crushed the skull of a dog under his foot. She couldn’t make
herself look up until the yelping stopped completely. The three men
stood as still as stone, listening for any movement. Their hands
dripped red with blood and their clothes were splattered with it.
Despite the violence, they seemed impervious and unhurt. The lawn
was riddled with dozens and dozens of bodies. She wanted to run to
her brother, to finally embrace him, but she was frozen with fear.
Then the shock hit her full force. Her stomach flipped and she had
to look away again. A cold chill started in her chest and ran up
her arms until her stomach rejected what little of the banana she’d
managed to eat.

“Clara?” Callan’s voice was so near her ear
that she jumped. Rising from the hunched position she’d taken, she
wiped her mouth and looked into his eyes that were the exact same
emerald green as her own. Before she could utter a word, Tyson
moved behind Callan and grabbed him by the shirt. He pulled her
brother back so Callan flew, but was able to keep his feet when he
landed.

“Don’t touch her!” Tyson snarled. His voice
rolled like thunder, causing her to jump again.

“I wasn’t going to!” Callan held his stained
hands out defensively.

“Don’t push him!” she snapped at Tyson. “You
can’t treat people that way!”

“Don’t you dare step out of the house,”
Tyson snapped back when she edged toward the door.

“Or what? You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Come out and I will be forced to restrain
you.”

“
Restrain
me?” she repeated shrilly.
“You don’t have the authority to do anything to me, or anyone!”

“Clara, listen to him,” Callan said
quickly.

Anger caused her to bristle defensively.
“
You
disappeared for years and this—” she cast her hands at
the bodies strewn every which way. “
This
is how I learn
where you are?” Her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears.

“I-I’m sorry, sis, I didn’t have a
choice.”

“Ty?” the third man spoke with trepidation
thick on his voice. Clara had forgotten he was there. His warning
seemed to tune Tyson in to an unseen threat. He stopped a fraction
of a second before his eyes grew wide. Her stomach jolted when he
jerked her sideways. She wasn’t aware he’d moved until he suddenly
dragged her into the house and shoved her into a pantry.

“What are you doing? Are you insane?!” she
screamed and pushed on the doorknob. The handle twisted, but the
door wouldn’t open. She fumbled to find a light switch, but there
was none. Barking and whining could be heard beyond her
confinement. “Callan!” she yelled and banged on the door. The
screaming and whining started, signaling the start of more death.
Determined to be free of the suffocating closet, she threw her body
into the door in a self destructive manner until a dull pain
blossomed up her shoulder. She stepped back. Tremendous tremors and
the sound of glass shattering only added fear to fear.

“CALLAN!” she screamed as loud as she could,
though she doubted anyone could hear over the chaos. She took a
running start and slammed into the door. The sound of impact was
lost to the noise. With her shoulder aching she banged with her
fists. She couldn’t imagine how to survive the heartbreak of losing
Callan right after she’d found him, especially when the last thing
she’d said to him was spoken in anger. Panic gripped her chest and
squeezed mercilessly. Again and again she pummeled into the door,
tears spilling as she did.

She called her brother’s name until
something hit the door so hard it sent her careening. She fell,
smacking into some broomsticks and cans of food. Everything crashed
to the floor on top of her then clattered to the floor. She sat
against the wall and drew her knees to her chest, hiding her face
even though there was no one there to see. She covered her ears
against the sounds, although it did no good. In time, the ground
shaking shudders and bangs lessened, then ceased altogether. She
wanted to run to the door, to see Callan, but her body was heavy.
The seconds dragged on until someone finally cracked the door open.
Her head felt as heavy as stone and she didn’t look up.

“Clara?” Callan’s voice was at the door. She
thought she said something, but a strange sound came from her
lips.

“Go wash and quickly,” Tyson commanded.
“She’s in shock.”

She tried to pull from the fog in her mind
to understand what was happening. Not much later, she heard her
brother again. “Clara?” He scooted in as if the closet were too
small, even though his body fit with plenty of space to spare. “Can
you hear me?” His comforting hands took hers.

“I don’t hate you,” she mumbled.

“What?” His brow creased in confusion.

“I just want to make sure you know I don’t
hate you.”

He chuckled and pulled her into a hug. She
couldn’t help but notice he wore fresh clothing and smelled of
rubbing alcohol. “I love you too, sis.”

The tender moment was short-lived. Tyson
pulled at Callan’s arm urgently. “You need to taker her and
run.”

Callan obediently backed out and stood,
lifting Clara easily in his arms. “Tyson,” he said while looking at
his sister. Her hands trembled and she was pale. “I can’t take
her.”

“What?” Clara and Tyson’s exclamation rang
out at the same moment.

“Why not?” Tyson barked.

“What if I lose control? What if I can’t
keep her safe?”

“You won’t…and you will,” Tyson reassured.
After his rash mannerism the night before, his compassionate tone
pleasantly surprised her.

“How do you know? Please Ty, I can’t. I
don’t trust myself.” Callan pushed Clara at him. “You take
her.”

“Nobody is going to
take
me!” She
pushed from her brother, but he held her against her struggles.
They didn’t seem to hear her either until she punched his chest.
“Callan, put me down!”