Falling (7 page)

The brothers argue in whispers while I am in the bathroom using
a finger to rub toothpaste onto my teeth. I leave the faucet running and lean
against the door to listen. The subject under heated discussion is the need for
a night watch. The intended object of the watch is, of course, me. Tarren
opines that I should be kept under strict guard. I’m emotional, unpredictable
and dangerous. Gabe disagrees, noting that I seem to be taking the whole thing
in stride. He votes in favor of a full night’s sleep on account that neither of
them has slept in the past two days.

Gabe is called irresponsible. Tarren is called a prick. Neither
seems offended by his moniker. A compromise is reached.

When I exit the bathroom, my wrists are cuffed behind my
back with apologies from Gabe and a nod from Tarren.

Despite Gabe’s protests, Tarren takes the floor with an
extra pillow and blanket while Gabe and I each slip into a bed. Both brothers
put their guns under their pillow. Tarren stays fully dressed. Gabe kicks off
his shoes and throws his jeans on the floor. The lights go out. I wait.

Gabe falls asleep quickly. I watch the movement of his
energy slow and even out. The light around his body dims to a soft, round glow,
and his breath comes out in rhythmic whooshes against the pillow.

I cast my gaze to the floor and watch Tarren’s energy spike
up and down, moving in jerky circles and webbed with scarlet. Again and again
his energy field begins to smooth down, then jumps high. Each time, his heart
beat rises to a quick gallop. Nightmares? He seems so remorseless in the
daylight.

I wait. My mind is numb and empty. The darkness seems to
vibrate, and as I lay in my bed, I mentally explore my new body. It is entirely
different from the thing I once resided within. The darkness is like a
semi-sheer curtain that shades the room but cannot hide its contents. I can see
Gabe’s laptop sitting on the table and the ridges on the lamp’s twist dial. I
can smell the lingering whiffs of salad dressing and burger. Even the boys each
have their own unique scent. A new latent energy coils inside my muscles. I wonder
what I can do with it.

Through the walls, I catch faint throbs of energy from the
other motel patrons. I can tell who is awake and who is not. If they are having
sex or watching TV. In the closest rooms, I can even hear the late night
comedians gearing up their monologs.  The sheer volume of new information is
difficult to parse and process. I struggle to filter it into a coherent
message. And the hunger is peaking again. I couldn’t possibly sleep even if I
wanted to. Not with their auras glowing so blatantly bright. Not when my hands
are growing hot, and I must make a mental effort to keep the skin on my palms
from rolling back.

Tarren falls into a light sleep. His energy never entirely
evens out, but the jumps are smaller and do not wake him.

I take my time with the handcuffs, giving them long
concentrated pulls. My wrists ache. I can feel blood soaking through the
bandages. I pull harder. The plastic strains. My muscles strain. The blood
flows. My teeth grind against each other. I won’t give up, can’t give up. I
keep thinking that just maybe Ryan isn’t dead. Maybe everything they’ve told me
is a lie. About being my brothers. About Grand raping my mother. What if
they’re really the bad guys? It happens in movies all the time, and haven’t the
last two days just been one crazy B horror movie with inept actors trying too
hard?

The cuffs snap. Tarren flinches and mumbles something
incoherent. I keep still, forcing my breathing to remain low and even. He drops
back into sleep. It is amazing he can’t hear the wild beating of my heart. It
fills the entire room. I draw back the covers and step out of the bed. I’m
wearing a matching peach tank top and cotton capri pants with yellow hearts
around the hems.

I step over Tarren on dainty feet. He doesn’t stir. I pull
the lock back slowly on the window and catch it behind my hand. My muscles are
all clenching hard to my bones. This is probably a bad idea. I can’t really go
back, I know that. Ryan isn’t waiting for me. Doctors can’t stitch up these new
tears in my hands. Tarren might be working on a cure, but Tarren also wants to
kill me. He and his brother spend their days running around murdering people. I
will go out into the night, and I will run. I don’t care what happens after
that.

I tug on the glass panel, and it slides open with a squeal
of protest. Tarren raises his head and blinks. Our eyes meet.

In the second it takes his tired mind to realize what’s
happening, I leap through the window.

Land.

Run.

The humid night air moves grudgingly into my lungs as I tear
through the empty back roads of this town and cut into a wooded field. I can
hear the faint hiss of the highway in the distance. This feels like flying. My
strides are long and graceful, and I feel, really feel my new body in motion. I
am giddy with fear. This is some kind of mix between dreaming and reality. The
song is playing, always playing, but now it seems to be encouraging me. I feel
strong.

I pause, pulling air into my lungs and try to regain my
bearings. The night is dark, but my eyes cut right through it. I’ve run at
least a couple of miles, and the highway is close.

“Don’t move.”

Tarren comes up behind me, gun leveled. He is gasping for
breath, trying to hide it. His long-sleeved shirt is soaked with sweat and
clinging to his body. He is spent; I can see it in the wavering energy field
that hugs close to his body. The pained scarlet is more prominent.

“You’re coming back. Now,” he says, but his words melt away
in the glow of his energy. I know that I could outrun him, but suddenly I don’t
want to. The run has drained me; I need fuel.

“You won’t shoot me,” I say. “You promised Gabe.”

“Gabe isn’t here,” Tarren replies.

“On your mother’s grave,” and this is becoming fun. He’s
trapped, but he doesn’t know it yet. Something dark and cruel is uncurling
inside of me. I want to break his calm. I want to see him afraid. “But she
isn’t here either is she?” I say.

“Don’t you dare…” he whispers. I take a step closer.

“Does it comfort you to think she’s in Heaven watching out
for you and your little brother? Keeps you going, huh? She’s not anywhere
Tarren. Or your father. They’re both worm shit rotting in…”

“Shut up!” His face is taunt with rage, and that’s how I
win. I leap. He fires. His concentration is off, and he is a second too slow. A
second is an achingly long time. The bullet hisses by my left ear just as my
knee catches his shoulder. We hit the ground together. The gun skitters away.
Tarren lands on his back, me on top of him. I hear the air kick out of his
lungs, see the scarlet pulse around his body. He twists under me, gasping for
breath and throwing a protective arm over his ribs. Now I know where he’s
injured. I put my hands on his chest and slam him back, hard into the ground.
He shudders in pain and lays stunned, red crackling all around him.

“I know what you are,” Tarren rasps. “Go ahead. Prove it.”

There is a strange glint of relief in his face. He closes
his eyes and waits, and the shame comes like a sudden rain soaking right
through me. I feel sodden with it. Cold. Ryan, hiding in the trees, shakes his
head, and I see myself as I must look to him in this moment; the precipice I am
traipsing.

I fight against the hunger, but it’s like trying to push
away a tidal wave.

Tarren opens his eyes. “Do it,” he says. It almost sounds
like a plea.

“I am in control,” I tell him through gritted teeth. This is
where I should finish with a noble speech about inner strength and the power of
belief, but I can’t think of anything more. I’m too damn hungry, and this isn’t
a B horror flick after all. I stand up and take a wobbly step away.

Tarren struggles up to his elbow, panting in pain. I turn
away from him, toward the highway. “Don’t follow me.”

“Maya wait!” Gabe stumbles out into the field still wearing
his t-shirt and striped boxers. “Oh god, don’t…go yet. Just…give me…a second.” 
He leans over and gasps for breath. His bare feet are dirty and bleeding.

“Maya, don’t go.” Gabe straightens up, and the moon catches
his flushed face and tousled hair. “If you go back it’ll be all over the news.
Grand will come for you. He’ll turn you into an angel. You think it’s hard to
control the hunger now? If you turn, it’ll be impossible. You’ll kill people.
Men, women, children.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know any
of this is real at all?” I shout back at him.
Ryan, Ryan,
Ryan, if only I could leap into the ocean and wash up on the shores of Avalon
.

“Mom knew that if Grand ever found out about you he would
stop at nothing to find you and infect you just like his father infected him,”
Gabe says. “That’s why she gave you away, to protect you. She never blamed you
for who your father was or how you were conceived. You were innocent. She knew
that, and we know that.”

“I want to go home.”

“You can’t,” Tarren says, sitting up with a wince.

Gabe gives him a look, and the hysteria that has been
bubbling beneath the surface of my mind suddenly erupts like a geyser. “This is
crazy. This is fucking insane,” my voice squeaks. “You two are…and especially
you,” I huff at Tarren, “and I’m….,” I look at Gabe helplessly. The words fall
from my lips like haunted things.  “I don’t know what I am.”

Gabe doesn’t hesitate. “You’re our sister,” he says. He
squares his shoulders and stretches out his hand. “I’ll prove it. Take my hand
without your gloves on.”

“Gabe,” Tarren barks.

“Let me do this.” Gabe never lets go of my eyes. “Maya, take
my hand.”

“I…I can’t.” Traitorous tears flee down my face, and I wipe
them away. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

“Maya, you can control it. I trust you. Come on.” Gabe’s
eyes are big and sad, and I feel again that whiplash certainty that I’ve known
him my entire life; that maybe I can trust him. He gives me a small smile, but
can’t keep the tremor out of his extended hand.

“Come on,” he says again.

I peel off my glove and reach through Gabe’s glowing aura to
take his hand. Our fingers interlace. The orbs push up with a mad insistence,
but I keep the skin of my palms anchored down. This is pain burning toward
implosion. If I could transfer this agony into a scream, I think the moon would
hear it.

“I’m trusting you with my life right now,” Gabe says softly.
“It’s because I believe you’re not an angel. It’s because I want to help you.
Tarren and I are the only ones who understand what you’re going through. We’re
the only ones who can protect you from Grand. And together, we’re going to
defeat him and all the other angels.”

There is nothing harder, nor more painful than not killing
Gabe right now. With a guttural moan, I tear my hand from his grip, stagger
away from his pulsing energy and press my palms against the front of my legs. I
taste blood where I’ve bitten through my lip. The tears are hot on my cheeks,
dripping off my chin.

“It’s…all too much,” I gasp. My body is so exhausted from
the strain that I can hardly stand. “I can’t do this. None of it even makes
sense.”

“My brother and I have been fighting our whole lives,” Gabe
says, “and we’ve seen awful things Maya. Things I can’t even begin to describe.
And we’ve lost a lot, just like you. But just because bad things happen doesn’t
mean the fight isn’t worth fighting. And it doesn’t mean we can’t find some
measure of happiness even so. You’re my sister, and I’m going to protect you. I
won’t let you slip. I won’t let you fall. Tarren is working on an antidote, and
he’s a fucking genius, so he’ll figure it out soon. We won’t let Grand touch
you. Ever again.” Gabe walks over to Tarren. The brothers clasp arms, and Gabe
pulls Tarren up off the ground.

“No more cuffs,” Gabe says. “Ever. From now on we trust each
other. All of us. We’re the only family we’ve got left. Agreed?”

The silence stretches, and I watch small sparks of energy
scurrying along the tree limbs. Luminous eyes blink, curious at my plight.

“Agreed,” Tarren mutters. They both look to me. I can still
hear the highway close by. I could beat them to it, though whether to flag down
a motorist or throw myself in front of an eighteen-wheeler, I don’t know.

“Okay,” I whisper.

* * *

It takes Tarren fifteen minutes to find his gun in the thick
brush around us. We walk back in silence, keeping to a slow pace so Gabe can
nurse his twisted ankle. He runs his fingers through his hair trying to tame
the wild strands. Tarren is sulky and silent.

Just before we make it back to the motel, I find a stray cat
wandering the empty streets. The boys wait. It hisses as I approach.

Afterwards, I curl up on the sidewalk, rocking back and
forth and shuddering with the need to keep feeding. The song rears up so loud
it drowns out everything but the certainty that I must hold back. My entire
body is tight and sore and aflame with hunger. I am so utterly alone in this.

I stand up, dizzy and weak, and drop the cat’s body into an
alleyway dumpster.

“See? Easier.” Gabe says.

One by one, we slip back through the open window to our
room. We take turns washing our feet off in the tub. Gabe and I go to our beds,
and Tarren lies back down on the floor. We all close our eyes and pretend to
sleep. I cannot know what they are thinking, but their minds must be laced with
doubts. I try to ignore the song and what it tells me to do. Instead, I find
Ryan in my thoughts and conjure ways to make him smile.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. Sunlight filters through the window,
and I turn my face toward it.

“Sure?” Gabe asks. He’s sitting on the bed with his laptop
open in front of him.

“Yeah, but next time I pick the color.” I hold up the box of
hair dye. “Colorsilk Burgundy,” I purr with a lavish accent that earns me a
hesitant smile. We’re both playing nice, and Tarren was good enough to go
“check on things” as soon as it got close enough to dawn.

The scissors have a sharp sic to them as they shear away my
long locks. The metaphor is too simplistic: a physical transformation that
embodies the inner evolution.
Sic
. De-evolution?
Perhaps it depends on who you ask. A life gone. I thought I was doing okay. A
new life. Definitely not okay. As not okay as can be imagined.
Sic
. No. This is unimaginable. This is bordering on sci-fi
graphic novel without the huge tits and witty comebacks.
Sic
.
This is fire and fears and a terrible face I can’t get out of my mind. This is
the loss of everything.
Sic
. The hair swings back
just beneath my chin.

I pause halfway through the haircut so that I can be both
the old me and the new me at the same time. This will be our only meeting. I
should have prepared something appropriate for the funeral and for the welcome
party.

Some last words on human Maya: She had problems but was
dealing alright in what I believe is a very difficult world no matter who you
are or where you come from. Maya enjoyed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
very much. She was on the track team in high school, even though she wasn’t
very fast and had a tendency to develop shin splints halfway through each
season. She used to hate Sarah Hendrickson until they became best friends. Then
Sarah got pregnant and stopped hanging out.

Maya had a mother who treated her alright between bouts of
asthma, panic attacks, suspected gout and a strange taste in her mouth that was
almost certainly indicative of a malignant brain tumor. Maya even had a dad who
would say “hey there kid” when they passed each other on the roads of their
very separate lives. He always bought her awesome Christmas presents.

Now a few words to introduce Monster Maya: She prefers raw
alley cats to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She’s not on the track team
anymore, which is a shame considering that she can run fast now. Real fast. She
doesn’t have any friends, but she does have two brand new brothers. They are
both very goal-oriented individuals and talented in select weaponry. Gabe tries
too hard to be funny. He’s overcompensating for something; possibly that his
hobby includes regularly killing people or that he has to hang out with the
world’s most morose person every day. Which brings us to Tarren. Monster Maya
might get to help him with some science experiments if he doesn’t kill her
first. Or she doesn’t kill him. It’s really all up in the air at this point.

One last thing about Monster Maya. She doesn’t have a mother
anymore, but she does have a father. Theirs is a somewhat strained
relationship. It’s the typical father-daughter trope. He wants her in the
family business. She has other plans. He’s looking for water under the bridge.
She will find a way to destroy him. Brutally. Possibly involving guns or
daggers or throwing stars, or her bare hands. Monster Maya doesn’t get shin
splints anymore.

Sic, sic, sic
. One more lock of
hair dangling behind my left ear.
Sic
.

I sit on the toilet, eyes watering as my hair absorbs the
potent chemicals. I am now convinced that Ryan and I were desperately in love.
Engaged practically, though the topic never came up. I cannot recall a single
argument between us. He had not one bad habit that got on my nerves. Our time
together is ringed with soft white lighting around the edges. His voice was
always soft, full of endearments. Our relationship was filled with laughter,
adventure and great sex that never got awkward or just a tiny bit boring
sometimes.

This leads me to my second train of thought: How I will kill
Grand. The aforementioned daggers, throwing stars and bare hands are
considered, but what I must really plan is the winning condemnation I will lay
upon his dying ears. Something grave, deep and utterly cutting which will
elevate my victory to heroic, bard-singing levels. I throw open the bathroom
door and ask Gabe for a pen and paper. Holding his nose, he obliges, and here
is what I come up with:

This is for Ryan!

Short, simple, poignant, yet cliché.

You wanted a daughter? Well, you got one!

Upon further reflection, this one doesn’t make a whole
lot of sense.

You took everything from me, the man I loved, even my own humanity. It’s only
fair that I return the favor.

I imagine delivering this in a half-choked whisper as I
twist the dagger I have already plunged into his chest.

Eventually, I settle on something different. Each word is memorized instantly,
though I plan on repeating them to myself every night before I fall asleep.
Just so that I’m ready when the moment comes.  They will become my mantra — an
invocation of the hate and vengeance that have filled this new hollowed body I
own. It feels good to have a purpose.

These are the words I will say as Grand gurgles his last
blood-soaked breath at my feet:

“Everything you ever stood for will be forgotten. I will
bury your body so deep in the ground that no one will ever dig you up. I’ll rid
this world of every single one of your angels of death.  I will soak your
dreams in blood and burn them to ash. There won’t be a speck of you left, and
the world will be a better place for it. Goodbye Father.”

I step into the shower and raise up my face to the spray of
water. Monster Maya smiles for the first time.