Hope (5 page)

Tears poured down my cheeks, this wasn’t how I wanted it to end.  I knew it would be hard but I had thought I would be ok if I could leave town knowing somebody in the world cared for me.

“Clinton… I… I have a problem!” I sobbed.

“Stop right there.  Forget I asked.  I don’t care anymore.”

With that he slammed the door in my face with all of his strength and I heard something fall off a shelf somewhere inside his house, smashing into a million pieces.  I hung my head and slowly walked back to my rental where I went to bed and cried until I fell asleep.

*****

That night, I didn’t know the exact time, I was woken by the almighty crash of the front door to my house exploding inwards, propelled by either a horse kicking it or a cannonball coming through if the noise was anything to go by.  After the initial shock I calmed myself while listening to somebody frantically searching my house, knocking over what sparse furniture there was, going through cupboards.  I’d been through things like this many times before, it was the inevitable conclusion to staying in one place for too long.  The only question was how many were there?

I sat up and cradled my face in my hands, feeling new tears run over the dried and salty tracks of old ones.  Suddenly I sensed a large presence in the doorway to my bedroom and looked up.  Standing there, naked and with a huge hard erection in his hand was Tom, college football star turned waiter.  His feet were cut and bleeding, whether from the turmoil he had caused
in
my house or from his journey
to
my house I couldn’t tell.

“Please don’t…” I pleaded, knowing it was futile.

“Gonna fuck.” said Tom as if I hadn’t even opened my mouth.

He advanced upon me and pushed me roughly backwards on the bed before climbing on top and grabbing my shirt, which he ripped apart as if it was made of paper.  He grabbed my breasts, squeezing them painfully as he stared, mesmerised.  Without warning there was an almost musical ‘BONG’ sound and Tom briefly sat bolt upright before collapsing to the side.  I looked at his unconscious body and then up to see Clinton standing there with a dented pot in his hand.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.  Quick.”

Clinton held out his hand and I took it.  He dragged me to my feet and led me out the splintered remains of my front door as I held the scraps of my shirt closed with my other hand.  Back towards his house we went but instead of heading inside he led me to the garage, letting go of my hand so he could swing the door up and open.  I walked to the passenger side and waited nervously as Clinton fumbled with his keys before slotting one into the keyhole and activating the central locking so we could enter.

The key scrabbled all around the ignition as Clinton’s shaky hand tried to insert it before finally finding the mark and sliding home.

“Got to get to the police station, there’s no telling how long Tom’s going to be ou…”

The driver’s door opened and Tom’s huge hands reached in to seize Clinton by the shirt, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll.  Tom’s mind was utterly gone and he howled animal snarls while he tried to shake the life out of the obstacle between his manhood and me.  I reached around and grasped at the key, praying to any god who was listening for the mercy of a reliable car.  The engine turned over and caught first time.  I silently offered my thanks, threw the automatic gearstick from park to reverse and stepped over the centre console, stomping down on the accelerator.

The sensible family car charged backwards out of the garage, the open driver’s door swatted Tom off his feet and was ripped off its hinges at the same time.  Holy Christ he was huge, but there was no time to marvel at that as the vehicle exited Clinton’s driveway, crossed the street and slammed into a tree.  From my awkward position straddled in the middle I was thrown clear into the back seat, miraculously I felt no impact except for the soft landing of the padded rear passenger area.

I brushed my hair out of my face in time to look out the windshield and see Tom stagger to his feet, fall on his ass and then rise again.  In the moonlight his skin stood out pale, except for where he was bleeding profusely, and his erection maintained at full mast.  He yelled wordlessly and pointed at the car before beginning to lumber towards us.  Our engine was still running but Clinton seemed to be dazed.

“Go.  Go. Go go go go go go!” I screamed before swinging an open palm in a wide arc and connecting with his cheek.

It seemed to snap him out of it as he shook his head, saw Tom coming, switched the car into drive and planted his foot while turning the wheel.  Once again the surprisingly nimble family car surged into life to face the sex crazed goliath that advanced upon us, clipping him with the front bumper as we bounced on to the road.  We gained speed and hurtled in the direction of town.  I looked out the rear window and saw Tom slowly dragging himself after us by his hands, at least one of his legs obviously too damaged to stand on.  We turned a corner and he was lost to view.

“Where are we going?”

“The police station, where else?”

“Take me out of town!”

“What?  Fuck that.  I should have gone with my gut instinct that night at the restaurant.  He’s flipped.”

“Please just…”

I never got a chance to plead my case, blue and red lights flashed behind us and the woop-woop of a siren signalled the arrival of one of the few police officers in town.  We pulled over and waited for him to approach.

“You know how far over the speed limit you were?  Where’s your door?  You been drinking, Clinton?”

The police officer, a married man if the ring on his finger was anything to go by, leaned over to peer into the car and spotted me.  A change came over his face and I felt panic rise in my chest.  He’d obviously seen me around town before, though I didn’t recall him.

“Hey there, pretty lady.  We’re going to have a good time, aren’t we?”

The police officer knew Clinton and Clinton clearly knew him.  He looked over his shoulder at me, utter confusion etched on every line of his face, and then forwards again.

“What are you doing, Kyle?  Tom Shaw has gone nuts back at my place, tried to rape her and assault, maybe kill, me.  You’ve got to get over there right now before he hurts anybody else.”

The police officer, Kyle, looked at Clinton as if he’d just said the world was flat then stepped back and unholstered his gun, pointing it at Clinton’s head.

“Holy shit, Kyle, what the fuck is this?”

“Don’t make me shoot you, Clint.  I don’t want to, but I’m gonna fuck the ever-loving shit out of that red-headed slut in the back seat.  Don’t get in my way.”

Clinton planted his foot on the accelerator again and once more the truly heroic car leapt forward like a vehicle of much more refined pedigree.

“Get down!” Clinton screamed as shots rang out.

I got as low as I could on the back seat as shattered glass rained down all around me.  More shots and I felt my hair flick across my face as foam padding was blown out of the seat.  When no more bullets were flying I raised my head and looked out the hole where the rear windscreen had been to see Kyle sprinting after us like a mindless machine, his own car apparently forgotten.  He was soon lost in the darkness as Clinton went straight ahead through an intersection, heading out of town when turning to the right would have pointed us in the direction of the police station.

I looked at him, he was pale and sweating and I feared the worst.

“Are you hit?”

He didn’t answer.

“
Are you hit?”
I yelled over the rushing, whistling wind.

“No.  I don’t think so.”

We drove until the few lights of Riverview were extinguished in the distance and kept on going.

*****

Clinton closed and locked the door to our room at the Twin Palms Motel before checking all the windows and closing the curtains.  With those tasks done he deflated like a robot with no instructions and hunkered down in a corner of the room, hugging his knees and hiding his face.  I sat on the bed and stared at the clean but faded wallpaper that was wholly representative of the clean but faded room, shaking slightly.  We chose a place on the cheaper end of the scale in the hope they would accept cash and not ask for I.D.  Despite the classy name, there were no palm trees evident anywhere and the proprietor asked no questions.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

“What is going on?” he countered.

“I’ll tell you, Clinton, but you won’t believe me.”

“I’ve seen some pretty far-fetched things tonight, Mary, maybe you should try me.”

“Ok… ok.  First, though, how did you happen to be at my house at just the right moment to save me?”

Clinton raised his head and looked at me, I was utterly unable to read his expression and pulled my ripped shirt tighter over my body, holding it there protectively.  He shook his head and took a deep breath, exhaling it between nearly closed lips, which caused his cheeks to puff out.

“Kristen.”

“What?”

“I had another dream about her.  I was having all these nightmares and then all of a sudden everything was calm.  I was at my front door and Kristen was standing by the mail box.  I walked out into the night and we stood there on either side of the gate.  She gave me this look she always used to reserve for when I was being really stubborn and stupid and pointed at the mail box.  I told her I didn’t understand.  I told her I didn’t want to let go of her hand.  She smiled and said I didn’t have to, I had two hands didn’t I?  She said it was time to move on, just don’t forget her and she’d see me again one day.  I woke up in my bed.”

“And that’s when you heard the commotion at my place?”

“Not quite.  I went and opened the front door.  The night was just the same as in my dream but Kristen wasn’t there of course.  I walked out to my gate and looked each way down the street, I didn’t see anything.  I was about to go back inside when I remembered Kristen pointing at the mail box.  I opened it and…”

Clinton pulled a crumpled envelope out of his pocket, carefully unfolding it as if it was a winning lottery ticket.

“I found this.  It’s for you, the post man must have accidently put it in my box.  Your middle name is Diana.  Mary Diana Ramsey.”

Clinton threw the envelope on to the bed and I picked it up.  It looked like it was probably the cheque I’d been waiting on for weeks.

“So that’s what Kristen was saying.  Not Marry as in marriage, but your name.  Mary Diana.  How is it possible?”

“I can’t explain all that, Clinton, but I guess more than blind fate has brought us together.”

“But what the hell is going on and what do we do now?”

I stood and walked to the corner where he was sitting and crouched down so I was on his level directly in front of him.

“Clinton, remember how I said I was going to be leaving tomorrow?  Today I guess it is now.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s because, like I said, I have a problem.”

“Are you one of those… nymphomaniacs?”

My eyebrows rose momentarily.

“No.  It’s more serious than that.  I had to leave because my problem was going to destroy Riverfield and you with it.  I couldn’t let that happen because… because I love you.”

I’d never said those words to anybody except my long-dead family before, their very syllables held the promise of a blissful eternity but at that moment it felt like they mocked me.  My love was so close and yet for all intents and purposes he was nowhere near me.

“I had sex with those other men to postpone the kind of crazy you’ve seen tonight because I was being selfish.  I couldn’t bear to move on and leave you behind but when I realised I loved you I knew there was no other way.  I want you to be happy no matter what.  I want you to be happy with me, but my problem won’t let it happen so I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t understand, Mary, this doesn’t make any sense at all.  How does one thing have anything to do with the other?  I haven’t been hurt so bad as yesterday since Kristen and little Janice passed away.  It hurt so much because… I love you too, Mary.  Please, please, help me understand.”

I tried to get my words out but my throat was clenched shut around a lump of emotion and my jaws clenched my teeth together so tightly I thought they were all going to crack apart.  I squeezed my eyes shut as fresh tears cut a path down my cheeks.  I’d heard the words before, obviously, but they hadn’t been said to me by any man in my whole life and the sheer power of them was overwhelming.  Finally I was able to croak out recognisable English.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Clinton.  Don’t you fucking do it.”

“I’ve never said it without meaning it, Mary.  Never.”

“I can’t be loved.”

“Yes you can.  Come here.”

Clinton reached out and pulled me towards him, wrapping his arms around me as my head rested on his chest so I could hear his heart beating.  I felt like I was in a bulletproof cocoon and gradually brought myself back under control.

“Now help me understand.”

“Ok, here goes nothing.  I’m cursed, Clinton.  Literally cursed.  I’m not talking about being unlucky, I’m talking about no bullshit, full on, one hundred per cent real, cursed by something that wasn’t human.”

“But… that stuff isn’t real…”

“I’m over a thousand years old.”

“You’re, like… mid-twenties?”

“Have you ever heard of a Succubus?”

“Uh… I can’t remember where I heard it but yes.  It’s a demon that lures men for sex or something, isn’t it?  Kind of like the sirens from Greek mythology?”

“I don’t know if or how we relate to sirens, but we aren’t demons.  We’re just normal women who have been cursed.  The curse of the Succubus.”

“We?”

“I am a Succubus, Clinton.  Me.  Look in my eyes, you know these can’t be natural.  You said it looks like I have the sun trapped in there but I’m afraid it might just be the fires of hell.”

Clinton looked into my eyes closely and I saw his wall of disbelief being chipped away.

“That’s why Tom and… Kyle were acting so strange.  If I stayed in Riverfield that’s how the whole town would be.  That’s why I’m a drifter.  I just held on too long because… well… because…”