Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) (25 page)

“It'll be okay.” Slowly, gently, he lay his hand on top of hers.

Tears streaked down her face as her guard fell. “It's all my fault.” More tears. Sobs shook through her body. “All...my fault.”

“Hey, it's okay. It's okay.” Travis leaned over and put his arms around her.

Cece leaned in, pressed her face to his shoulder. Her heart was soaked in tears. She couldn't stop the flood. Travis rubbed her back and murmured condolences. She cried long and hard. When the tears finally stopped, she sat back, sniffing and wiped at her eyes.
             

“
I'm sorry.” She looked up at his face. He had the strangest expression on… As if he were deciding something.

Then he leaned in and kissed her.

CHAPTER THIR
TY-FIVE — HUGH

Friday 1:23 a.m.

He stood in the woods barely breathing. Something wasn't right, he could feel it.

Cece had run through the moonlit field almost an hour ago and he'd stood listening since.
If something was wrong, she'd come back,
he thought as he shifted his position once again. Yet, his gut twisted and his palms were dotted with sweat. Something was not right.

A noise echoed through the forest behind him. He snapped his head around, his eyes sifting through the inky blackness. A twig snapped to his left and his body tightened like a fist. Someone or some
thing
was out there. He strained his ears toward the sound, filtered out the buzz of insects, the rustling of leaves. There, to his right, something shifted ever so slightly. He strode forward, anger heating up his insides. The smell hit him. Feral, animal, big.

Rage seethed through him until rational thought was blanketed. How dare it come here, nearly to her doorstep.
I'll kill it,
he thought, tearing after the scent.
This time I'll make sure it's dead.

He tore toward through the branches, his arms pumping, hands fisted. He gritted his teeth and an animal growl gurgled out of his throat.

Hugh pulled back, shaking his head.
What's gotten into me?
He loosened his grip, pushing down the rage. Then a whiff of feral scent hit him in the face. The rage reared up, overpowering him. The beast had to die. Then he'd be able to calm down.

He tore into a small clearing. Here the pines thinned, letting a sliver of moonlight spear into the ferny underbrush. Hugh stopped and looked around.  

Still as a statue, the beast waited. Close to seven feet tall, rippled in muscle, it was a thing of nightmares. From here, the creature looked like a gnarled tree with slitted red eyes. Its lion-like mane stirred in the breeze, wafting the animal scent to him once again and yet the rest of its skin was a network of hard scales the size of nickels that reflected the moonlight. Hugh's eyes tracked over the claws that curled from each finger, at the teeth that curved outward six inches in both directions. The sunken red eyes watched him from a skeletal, boney face that protruded in knobs at the cheekbones and forehead. It was grotesque, an aberration. A monster.

Fear seized him, but the rage blared through his head. 
It has invaded my territory.
Hugh squared up with it, took a deep breath and bared his teeth.

The beast didn't move. Red eyes watched Hugh's every move intently. Could it actually be…thinking? No. This monster didn't think.

“Come on!” Hugh pointed to his neck, veins popping. “This is what you like, right?” Hugh jutted his chin upward. “Come and get it!”

The beast flexed, lips curling back to reveal more of those razor sharp teeth, but the posture was defensive. It made no move to charge.

“Come on!” Hugh grabbed a log and hurled it at the beast. The monster deflected the log with one swipe of a forearm, raining splinters into bushes. Still, it blinked at him.

How could this killing machine stand there looking at him without attacking? He thought of the man in the gas station, the blood, the shocked expression on his face, the flies.

An image of Cece, crumpled and bloody, flashed before his eyes.

Anger screaming in his brain, he ran and jumped on the beast.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX — CECE

Friday 1:25 a.m.

Cece slammed back against the couch, pressing her palms into Travis's chest. His lips pulled away and he fell back.

“
Travis, I…” She stared up at him.

Travis slumped back, dropping his eyes to the floor. He planted his palm in the middle of his forehead. “Stupid.”

“No.” Cece shifted forward again, touching his arm. “It wasn't stupid. I like you. A lot. It's just… I like someone else.”

“
Who? You never talk about anybody at work. It's just an excuse, isn't it? He shook his head and then clasped it in his hands. “I suck.”

Cece leaned forward, her hand gently on his arm. “No, no, you definitely do not suck.”

“Yes, I do.” He wouldn't look at her.

“
No, you don't. You are smart and funny and nobody makes me laugh like you.”

Travis lifted his sad eyes to hers. “Then why don't you like me?”

How could she explain how she felt when she was with Hugh? She grabbed a tattered pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I'm all messed up right now. You don't want to be with me.”

Travis leaned in, his face lighting up. “I do!”

“No.” She pulled back. “I think we should just be friends.”

“
Oh God!” He fell back as if dead.

“
Oh, Travis. I'm sorry.”

He sat there for a moment, letting his eyes burn holes into the dirty carpet. Finally, he sighed. “I can dig what you're saying, being your friend or whatever, but whoever this dude is, he better be good to you.”

She pinched her hands together on her lap. “He is.”

An awkward silence filled the room. He turned and looked at the neon Budweiser clock glowing in the corner, drew out a fake yawn. “Dude, it's late and I gotta work tomorrow.”

“Oh no! Work.” She fell back on the couch. She'd nearly forgotten. She'd never be able to work at Lizzy's again. Not with the cops and Child Protective Services looking for her.

“
I'm sure Lizzy'll give you your job back when this whole thing blows over.” Travis handed her a faded blue and gray Detroit Lions blanket. “I'd give you my bed, but it's kinda gross. I think the couch is cleaner.”

Cece took the blanket, feigning a yawn. The atmosphere in the room was decidedly awkward and she needed to be alone for what she was planning to do next. Travis shuffled off and clicked his door shut. Cece pulled out the folded piece of paper from her pocket. A new number at the bottom, penned in fresh ink. Marquez, her father. She thought of his photo stuffed in Mama's frame, the cleft chin, the dark curly hair, the crooked front tooth. Did he ever think of her? Had he ever tried to call, come by? What would he say to his long lost daughter? She looked down at her cellphone. Time to find out.

She dialed the number. She'd been nervous with Aunt Bea, even worse with Ben, but this… Her heart might seize up at any moment.

It rang three times. A deep male voice rumbled through her phone. “Hello?”

She swallowed. “Marquez? Is this Marquez?”

“
Yeah,” his voice was slow and thick. He coughed into the phone. “What you want?”

“
My name is Cecelia. And I'm…your daughter.”

The man coughed again. “I'm not in the mood for jokes.” His words slurred as if he were drunk.

“This isn't a joke. My mother is Luisa Acha. I think you know her and my Aunt Bea.”

There was a pause and then a low rumble that turned into a wheezing laugh. “So, she told you, eh? She said she'd never tell her daughter about the pigshit that fathered her. Looks like I'm not too much of a pigshit after all.”

“No, she didn't tell me. I found a picture and kind of put things together.” She paused. His voice was unkind, hard. “So, why didn't you ever come to see me?”

“
Your mother said she'd cut off my balls if I ever stepped foot near you. And Bea,” he took a swig of something, gulped and continued. “She wasn't too keen on me seeing Luisa either.”

“
But, you didn't even try? Not once?” Anger flooded her voice. Fifteen years of having a blank spot where her father should be and this man, this drunk idiot was it?

“
Listen, girly—”

“
My name is Cecelia.” She gripped the phone with white knuckles.

“
Cecelia, this is a lot and it's past midnight, sweetheart. Maybe we could talk later on. Next week or whatever?”

He was just trying to get her off the phone. Well, she'd help him along.

“I don't want to talk to you next week. I have nothing to say to you. All I want to know is if you know the number to my grandfather, Cruz Acha.”

He coughed again, the phone shifting. “Nope.”

“Well, good,” she said. “At least you're thoroughly useless then. Have a good life.”

She hung up. Cece lay on the couch and pulled the blanket over her legs. She thought of the rocks she'd seen on the beach. How many waves had they weathered before they were pebbles, before they were grains of sand? Before they were nothing, nothing at all?

CHAPTER T
HIRTY-SEVEN — HUGH

Friday 1:26 a.m.

Hugh's body collided with the beast and they went sprawling into the underbrush. Twigs and branches shattered on either side as they fell. They skidded across the forest floor, stopping when the beast's back slammed into a massive tree. On top, legs straddling the beast's torso, Hugh swung like a heavyweight boxer, fists pounding into the beast's scaly chest and bony head again and again. It was like punching a stone statue. Blood splattered from Hugh's knuckles as he swung. The beast let out a ferocious growl, spittle spewing through its fangs. Hugh felt hot wetness on his cheeks. The beast lurched sideways, its claws furrowing the dirt. Hugh's grip slipped and the beast rolled away. Hugh grabbed at it and came away with a handful of matted, stinking fur. The beast let out a roar, its rancid breath clotting the air.

In one move it was behind Hugh. Paws circled Hugh's chest, locked there and began squeezing.

It's as
s
trong as I am!
Hugh thought, as the beast squeezed the air from his lungs. His ribs creaked. Pain spread through his chest like a cancer, setting warning bells off in his head. He thrashed back and forth.
No air! Got to—
Hugh smashed his heel into the beast's groin. Another guttural growl and suddenly Hugh's arms were free. He dropped to the dirt and rolled into the undergrowth.

Scrambling through bushes, Hugh sucking air madly. Once he could breathe, he pulled up and turned back to his opponent. The beast stood in a defensive stance, claws up, eyes and ears alert, legs tense. Its dirty brown mane wavered in the breeze. A clot of yellow saliva dripped from one curving fang. The slitted red eyes blinked at Hugh. Blinked and stared. Almost if it were trying to communicate.

“Why don't you fight me?!” He had no idea if the thing could understand him. It would understand a fight. Hugh tore forward, yelling at the top of his lungs.

They grappled, arms around each other, bodies lurching back and forth, slamming into trees, toppling them with tremendous cracks that echoed through the forest. A cloying smell of earth and raw meat flooded his senses as Hugh's face pressed against its massive shoulder. From behind, a slashing blow sliced through Hugh's shirt and into his back. He cried out and threw a punch, the beast's head snapping back, blood arching in the moonlight.

The beast fell heavily into the leaves. Hugh stood, panting, waiting for it to charge again. Warm blood dribbled down his back. A lot of it. How long before he healed? How much blood could he lose?

The beast sat up, shaking it head. Then it skittered between tree trunks and into the shadows.

He needed something to put an end to this cat-and-mouse game. Something to finish this once and for all. A giant boulder six feet in diameter lay in the shadows, fuzzy with moss and lichen. Hugh strode over and heaved the massive thing out of the ground, clutching it in his arms like a load of heavy groceries. Then he stalked into the darkness.

The smell of the thing was all over him now, so following its scent was no good. His eyes sliced through the shadows, picking up tree trunks, fern fronds, the skitter of some rodent avoiding his path. There was nothing to tell where the thing had gone. His arms ached with the weight of the boulder. His back throbbed where the thing had slashed him.

The sound of a breaking twig to his right. He whirled and jogged forward. Stopped. Listened.

Buzzing mosquitoes and chirping frogs. Then... In the distance, he heard it: the airy sound of something inhaling. He took a step forward.