Fade (10 page)

A trickle of blood slipped from her nose and she licked it away. That coppery warm taste fueling her rage. He…
it
had made her bleed. It hurt her. And she would hurt it. Her scream had turned into a snarl, and its own shrill wail was almost as painful to her ears as whatever it had been doing to her brain. But she was able to fight back this time, and it made her feel like a new person, a strong person.

She felt beautiful and worthy; a person in control for the first time. It was intoxicating. She let it change her. She felt herself shifting to the person she had always wanted to be. People who saw her wouldn’t see the weakling girl with the bony arms and stringy hair anymore. They would see someone elevated and beautiful; they would see strength and ability. Whatever had just happened to her was the sum of all her prayers, answered at once. It was power.

The door crashed open, but she heard it on the periphery—just aware that someone else was there. (If it was there against her she would fight it too.) The thing before her seemed to be shrinking. It was no longer in her head, and things were clearer now. The thing’s scream dwindled like it was moving away. She watched with stony eyes as it began to spark and smoke, becoming an altogether visible, frail, naked, dark-skinned creature, nothing like she’d ever seen. For a moment it was, and then its skin peeled away as it floundered like a fish on the shore and, in seconds, shriveling away to nothing more than a pile of ashes on the floor.

Lucy brought a hand to her aching head and turned to see three people standing in the doorway. A dark-haired girl led the pack, her blue eyes wide, and a rusting pipe in her hand. The other was a red-head, who was wiping tears from her face, her hair a mess, lipstick kiss pajama bottoms filthy. Then, she then lost her balance and was caught by a man who looked like he might ask her for change when all of this was over.

“I’m Lucy. Do I know any of you?” She asked in spite of herself. But there was no time for any of them to answer. The explosion from the next room, followed by a terrorizing snarl, spun them around. The man rushed over, grabbing her, setting her down beside the sewing table. Then he took the other two girls by the arms, pushing himself in front of them. What was left of the daylight streamed in through the new hole in the dining room wall.

“Golem,” the man said in a pained whisper.

***

Jonas all but closed the door, peering through the sliver left open. Angela shook with fear, but also anger. She was through with this monster movie crap. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were a bear, or a hungry escaped lion in the next room. But this was something else entirely. Its short, ragged, wet breaths were almost human—which made them worse—and they became louder, closer. Jonas backed away. She braced herself.
This is not my life. This is not my life
, she thought, eyes closed, wishing she wore a pair of ruby reds and she'd open those eyes to home. Her breath stopped. Jonas was saying something, pulling at her. Something in her knew at once that whatever it was had caught their scent and was about to attack. She could smell
it
now—like a long-untended sore.

Angela and the others were being yanked toward the back of the room when the wall shattered. Screams and debris filled the room. She went down with the others, ducking for cover. Jonas was screaming commands at them she wasn’t hearing. This enormous
monster
—that was the lone word for it—was far worse than anything she had prepared herself for. It faced them, raging and dripping, slobbering great gobs onto the floor. The odor was relentless. Her stomach lurched but she didn’t vomit. Lucy peeked from behind the table like a child trying to catch a glimpse of some zombie Santa from behind a couch.

Jonas grabbed Cynthia’s arm. “Listen to me! You are almost invulnerable, and strong. Take that pipe and just start ripping it apart!”

“No freaking way, man! You’re nuts! There’s a window right behi—”

“I know this is hard to accept…” He sighed, turned to Angela. “Dammit!
You!
”

“No!” She was insulted that he would suggest such a thing. Her gaze was stuck to the creature that stood still, looking like it was deciding who would be the main course and who to have for dessert.

“Why’s it just standing there?” Jonas ignored Cynthia’s question.

“You…
control
fire. We’re stuck in this room. We
will
die if one of you doesn’t do something.” Jonas said these things in a more controlled, calming voice than Angela could handle right then.

“I can do something,” Lucy said from behind the table, imitating his tone.

Jonas took a breath. “You're weak from your fight. But it may be—”

“Let’s just run, you idiots!” Cynthia yelled. The creature flinched. Huffed in her direction like an angry bull, but remained still.

“No. It
will
attack you. It’s confused right now without the Wraith. But not for long. We’ve got to kill it. They’re too fast,” he said.

Angela still stared, even though her brain screamed for her to tear her eyes away. She thought that this might be what the rotted corpse of the Incredible Hulk looked like. It was hunched, leaning to one side. Long, misshapen breasts hung over hills of swollen torso. Exposed muscle pushed out of rips in its taut, bruised skin. Its insides bulged, reminding her of a fresh popped can of blood-soaked biscuits. Arms hung like giant slugs, ending in fat, knobby fingers. Small, pale eyes sat deep under a jutting brow. Its mouth hung lax, its swollen tongue peeked out like a curious neighbor.

Angela’s eyes broke away and went to Cynthia at the sound of breaking glass. She was raking the pipe along the edges of the shattered window. Jonas grabbed at her, but she pushed him away like he was a child, and crawled through. She called for them to follow, but they just watched as the monster’s face changed from confusion to anger, its eyes on the window, and it charged.

This is it. This is where I die. Or maybe,
Angela thought, as it stomped toward them,
this was already Hell.

Its hand felt like a giant glove filled with half-frozen gelatin as it pushed Angela aside. She hit the wall, but was more frightened than hurt. Jonas got down, pulling Lucy with him. They were all scared but, at the moment, it didn’t care about them. It wanted Cynthia.

EIGHT

C
ynthia managed to slip through the window to the ground as the creature charged past the rest of them, bursting through the outer wall like a linebacker through a game banner. It ripped her from the grass, and tried its best to rend her in half. The constant pull of its vice-like fingers were uncomfortable but painless. She surprised herself by yanking an arm free with fair ease, swinging wild, and somehow landing a glancing blow to the watery flesh of its chest. The skin moved with her fist. A spray of pink that wet her face was the solitary sign that she had done it any harm.

The thing roared again, finding a surer grip on her. It pulled her, face-first, to its mouth. She screamed, frightened out of her mind, running on instinct. A leg flailed at nothing. It pulled her toward its too wide maw. Cynthia pushed back with trembling legs which slipped on rotten skin.

Her mind ran wild as she felt and watched the nightmare thing try to kill her. No coherent thought would form, but there was no coherent thought to be had about something such as this. The one thing that kept her sanity from switching off was that survival mode had kicked in. She had chosen flight, but the thing’s iron grip gave her shivering body no recourse but fight, with intent to flee.

Sheer chance got her one step ahead of it, and she slipped her body away from its grip, its mouth. With her hanging by one arm from its clenched fist, they stared at one another for a sickening moment. Then, not wanting those dreadful eyes on her any longer, she threw the elbow of her free arm around, hard into its face. She felt its jaw crack, and the skin gave like an old peach. Cynthia hit the ground. The creature reeled away in surprise, wailing and pawing at its ruined face.

Jonas was at her side, holding the pipe. “Are you hurt?”

“Just… Just shut up! Kill it!”

He brought the pipe up and batted at the thing. Swollen eyes, which had been closed in pain, popped open and glared. Its slug arm shot out and took the blow. In one, quick move, it grabbed the other end of the pipe and sent Jonas sailing away like a struck shuttlecock. The pipe rattled to the ground and the thing’s eyes were once again fixed on Cynthia. She could now see the extent of the damage she’d done. Flesh hung in wet shreds; its jaw slouched about three inches too low. The thing swayed, quivered, but seemed to be staying upright. The beast lurched at her.

It looked as if it were fueled by rage now as much as by oxygen or life’s blood—if a monstrosity like this needed such things at all. She leapt out of its path, grabbing for the pipe. She swung it in an awkward arc, shocked to see it send the creature up off its feet, twisting through the air, and skipping across the ground as it landed. But, it scrambled up and was barreling at her again within seconds. Cynthia squealed, swinging the metal tube too high this time. She felt herself rise, her breath gone, as it snatched her off her feet. The next moment it was swinging her. Her upper body and face crashed to a stop against a tree. Then again. She tried for anything to hold on to.

Unbroken, but phased, she felt the bottom half of her shirt snag on the bark, ripping open as the thing pulled her away. It reared back, swung her again. Her torso wrapped around the tree. Her face felt every inch of bark attempting to tear it away, but with little pain. Then, with every ounce of wherewithal and speed she could manage she wrapped her arms around the tree’s trunk.

When the monster yanked again she almost lost her hold. It stumbled—its grip on her gone, it reeled back. Cynthia tumbled to the ground and rolled to her feet to run. The thing was already in front of her. She squealed and dodged behind the tree. It pushed the tree aside, roots snapping, dirt jumping several feet into the air, never losing eye contact with her. Cynthia shivered, screamed, beginning to cry. “Just stay away!” She was in shock. Cold and so afraid.

The Golem roared, its breath stinking of rot. This was over. She had no more fight left. It was too much. It was… Chunks of putrid flesh and a hot spray of arterial blood covered Cynthia as the long, rusty pipe shot into the creature’s neck. She shrieked, stone still.

Lucy stood several yards away, heaving with each breath, hands on her knees. She looked to a still-dazed Jonas who was pushing himself up from the ground. “Was that good?”

Cynthia let herself slump down, barking out air, crying harder. She wiped half-heartedly at the thick, red goo she wore, sitting with her back against the fallen tree she’d been tortured against moments earlier. She could feel where she had been hammered into it—tingling trails where her body had been slammed into the bark crawled over her flesh. Spikes of pain—far less pain that she should have been in—sizzled just underneath.

The serene beauty of the rolling green farmland, spotted with trees, was too dissonant to look at. So she looked down at her quaking hands as Jonas and the other two girls ran to her. He bent and took one of her hands. Cynthia raised her head. “I can’t… I
can’t
.”

“Shh.” Jonas’ eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry, Cynthia. I should have been there for you all these years. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head. “This can’t… be
real
. This isn’t life, man.”

“I’m sorry. It is. I wish to God that it weren’t. If just for you girl’s sakes.” Jonas wiped at the mess on her face and she let him. “Listen. We need to get out of here. None of us are ready for—” Wood snapped behind them, and they all turned at once at the sound.

Through the hole the first beast had made in the wall, there now stood a second, larger creature. Its outsized, purple eyes rolled toward them, and it clenched its sloppy fists.

“No. Please, no,” Jonas said.

***

The creature didn’t pause as the last one had. Like the other, with no Wraith to control it, unbridled, instinctual anger did. It flung itself at them. Its speed was amazing considering its size. Angela dug her heel into the ground and jumped out of its path. Jonas managed to push Lucy aside as it neared. She tumbled, grunting as she hit the ground. He might have given her a few scratches or bruises, but it was nothing compared to what the behemoth could do. He tensed, planting his feet, ready for the impact that would odds-on end with him in pieces on the ground.

His eyes met its narrowed eyes. Those eyes widened. It tripped, floundering to the ground, missing him by inches. Sliding, leaving a ragged furrow in the dirt, the thing thrashed, flipping onto its side. Every inch of skin remaining on muscle tightened. Bulbous arms trembled. Its mouth gaped open, and dark blood erupted.

Angela stood, eyes closed, shaking. Tears popped out from her screwed together lids, her teeth bore down on her lower lip. Jonas noticed the flames on her arms. Lucy yelped. He prayed Angela wouldn’t open her eyes.

A pop, like an aerosol can exploding in a fire, came from the writhing beast’s center. Cinders, gobs of flesh and the smell of a field of rotting corpses filled the air. Angela’s eyes opened at the noise. She stared at her arms, swallowed up by flames, for an intense moment before beginning to screech, shaking them.

“Calm down! It won’t hurt you!” Jonas said.

The beast rose, its skin sizzling, steam rising from its fat form. Its face marred with pain. Gore pumped out of the new hole in its stomach with each breath. It stumbled. Jonas looked past it to the farmhouse. He hoped with his last shred of hope that no more than two people had lived there for the Wraith to corrupt.

“What did I do?” Angela cried. “I just wanted it to stop!”

Jonas took a step back, eyeing the blood-smeared pole poking from the corpse of the last creature. The larger Golem’s head rose in slow motion and it took a deep, quick breath. Another stumbling step forward. Jonas whipped around, yanking the pipe out with a reverberating, slurping sound. The giant fell on him in one, quick, awkward leap.