Voracious (26 page)

She leapt up, the creature propping himself up to watch her, looking so strikingly like Noah that suddenly she was uncertain again.

Quickly she reached the door, flung it open. Noah stood in the doorframe, chest heaving, face desperate and bruised.

“Thank the gods,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “I thought he’d got you!” She clutched him tightly, breathing in his scent. Yes. This was Noah. The hint of sun protection, the wisp of cinnamon.

Then, looking up over her shoulder, he breathed, “What in the hell?”

She spun around. The false Noah stood there, framed in the bedroom doorway.

Behind her, Noah gasped. “But … am I dead?”

“No!” she said, not taking her eyes off the creature. “He can become anyone. Noah, you were wrong.”

“Back so soon?” asked the false Noah.

Behind her, Noah shook with anger.

“After you tumbled into that ravine, I thought of sticking around to kill you, but,” he looked at Madeline, “I had better things to do with my time.” He sounded calm, assured, but his eyes held something else in their depths. Maybe sadness, she realized.

Noah was anything but calm. He stepped forward, neck veins bulging, “This is it! You die here!”

He pushed past her and launched into the air, colliding with the creature in the center of the room, a clumsy, rage-driven move that knocked the false Noah sprawling across the floor.

They tangled there violently as Madeline gawked, frozen. It was bizarre to see Noah and his doppelgänger roll across the floor, both wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. She moved in to help and suddenly realized she couldn’t tell them apart, had completely lost track of the real Noah. Both even had identical tears in their jeans and T-shirts.

Then one of the Noahs met with a violent kick in the gut and rolled off to the side, momentarily unable to breathe. The other Noah leapt to his feet and ran to Madeline. She steeled herself, ready to punch him in the face if she needed to. “Where’s the backpack?” he asked just as the other Noah rose from the floor and struck him in the head with an upraised fist. “Get the backpack!” he shrieked as he fell.

That had to be the real Noah. The creature wouldn’t need the weapon to kill, but Noah would. Without taking her eyes off the real Noah, she backed up quickly, groping behind her for the backpack, which she’d tossed down when she entered the cabin.

As Noah struggled and kicked at his doppelgänger, Madeline’s hand felt the wood of the chair, then the table, then the canvas of the pack. Desperately she grabbed it, unzipping it and shoving her hand inside. Her fingers closed around the cold metal of the dagger.

Dashing forward, knife in hand, she reached them just as the creature gained the advantage again and flipped Noah over on his back. She raised the knife and thrusting forward, drove it deeply into the creature’s kidneys. Howling in agony, he twisted and sprang up, trying to grab at the blade there, wrenching it out of Madeline’s grasp as he stood.

But Noah was too fast. In an instant he was on his feet, grabbing the handle of the dagger. With a sharp tug, he slid it out of his twin’s back and then brought it forward again as the creature dodged. The blade connected with Stefan’s cheekbone. A red gash opened in his face, streaming with blood.

Staggering backward, Stefan brought a hand to his slashed face, eyes bewildered. And there was something else, too: fear, Madeline realized. For the first time, he was afraid.

“So this is what you meant earlier by the ‘knife,’ ” he gasped. “I can see why you were so eager to have it.” And then he started changing, Noah’s features melting away into the visage of the same olive-skinned man she’d seen him take on before. Long black hair sprouted, taking the place of Noah’s blond color, and fiendish claws replaced the fingernails on his hands.

Noah didn’t stop, advancing on Stefan with clenched teeth and wild eyes. He struck out once, missed as the creature ducked, and then scored a hit just below Stefan’s rib cage, ripping open a hole there as big as a football.

With his right arm, Stefan swung out, connecting with Noah’s throat and sending him spiraling back into the wall.

Hacking and gasping, Noah bounced off and surged right back, swinging the knife, darting it in and out like a striking cobra. She’d never seen him move so fast. He must have practiced this scene a thousand times, picturing his moment of triumph.

Noah whipped his foot out suddenly while Stefan’s attention was transfixed on the moving blade. With a violent crash Stefan smashed to the floor as Noah’s leg swept him off his feet. Losing no time, he closed in, leaping on top of Stefan and stabbing the blade deep into his throat. Then, using both hands, he drew the blade across, ripping open a seven-inch weeping gash in the creature’s exposed neck. Blood gurgled and bubbled in the wound as Stefan tried to breathe, his eyes full of terror.

In a frenzy of rage, Noah withdrew the blade and struck over and over again, puncturing Stefan’s chest, stomach, neck, and face. Crying in gleeful ululation as each blow landed home, he sent up a spatter of fresh, warm blood with each wound. The creature raised his arms defensively in an attempt to block Noah’s blows, blood pooling on the floor, seeping ever closer to where Madeline stood transfixed.

She darted in to help Noah.

And then something terrible happened.

Stefan jolted his hip, hitting Noah and knocking him off balance. The creature turned, twisted, and rose to his knees, grabbing the blade of the knife with both hands. Not as strong as the creature, Noah struggled to maintain a hold on the knife as Stefan whipped it around violently in his grasp.

Then the creature’s left hand changed from flesh to metal, the same spike he’d used to destroy her attackers. The flashing metal touched the metal of the blade, melting and seeping over it. Instantly the blade changed form, bursting from Noah’s grip. The creature pushed away from Noah, rising to his feet. Where the blade joined the end of the metallic arm, it sprouted a finger, then four more, joining seamlessly with the creature’s arm until it was a hand.

Howling in agony, Stefan staggered backward, slamming against the wall. The metal hand grew flesh, fingernails. Chest soaked with blood, throat streaming red to the floor, the creature gasped and sputtered, staring at Noah through tearing eyes. “Thanks,” he growled. “I’ve been missing that part for a long time.”

Noah stood up, then froze, staring at the creature running free with blood.

Stefan staggered toward Noah and spat in his face, “I’m coming back for you. And I will kill you.”

Then he pivoted, turning toward Madeline. She gasped when she saw him look at her, eyes dark with pain, face smeared in scarlet, deep knife holes in his cheeks, revealing sections of teeth and glistening blood-streaked bone. He stumbled toward her grimly, and she moved out of his way, hearing the sucking and laboring of his breathing. He was hurt badly, close to death.

But now they had no way to finish him.

Sliding in his own blood, he walked right by her to the front door and went through it.

She looked back at Noah. He was still frozen in the same spot but had turned to watch Stefan go. Madeline didn’t know what to do. She thought of chasing after the creature, pounding on him until he stopped breathing so he couldn’t claim any more victims. But she knew that wouldn’t kill him. Noah had said they needed the weapon. And it was gone.

She glanced out the door. The creature was gone now, too.

“Noah,” she said, turning back around. He gave no indication of hearing her.

“Noah,” she said again softly.

Still he stood there, unblinking, unmoving.

And then he fell to his knees, a great eerie keening escaping his lips. He pressed his blood-soaked hands to his face and sobbed, a terrible long, helpless sound.

AFTER
kneeling immobile for twenty minutes, deaf to Madeline, Noah staggered into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Sobbing, he rolled into a tight ball, his body shaking. Madeline went to him, sat next to him. Stroking his back soothingly, she said softly, “Noah … we’ll think of something.”

But he sobbed even harder at her words and shrugged away from her touch. Still she sat on the edge of the bed, watching his heaving and shaking body.

Mucus streamed from his nose, mingling with tears. Only occasionally he’d suck in a deep breath, shuddering, wheezing, and another great wail would explode from him. It was the kind of crying she hadn’t done herself since she lost Ellie, the day she learned for the first time what death was.

She rose and retrieved a big wad of toilet paper from Noah’s backpack. Placing it down by his hand, she stood over him, concerned. He pushed it away, mucus already soaking into the bedspread, streaming down his cheek and lips. His crying grew so loud she began to wonder if neighbors would call in complaints.

Then she sat down again, watching him. She sat there for a long time, and his crying only got worse. She didn’t think it was possible for someone to cry for that long. She remembered how much her lungs and stomach had ached that day she’d cried for three hours straight.

She tried to talk to him, soothe him, murmur to him, hold him. Nothing helped. He stopped pushing her away and just lay there helplessly, limply, sobs convulsing his body. She lay down beside him. And then, after four hours, he simply stopped. He lay limply, his back to her. Madeline thought he might be asleep, but when she peered over his shoulder she found him staring fixedly at some point in the distance, his mind a million miles away.

“Noah?” she asked softly.

No response. He was far away.

Each breath shook his body, his lungs not yet recovered from the weeping. She continued to lie next to him, her arm cradling him, body spooning him. Soon she drifted off to sleep.

A little later she startled awake, lying next to Noah. He still lay in the same position, still staring at some fixed point in the distance. Her outburst hadn’t even made him stir. His eyes, dry and bloodshot, didn’t even blink. “Noah?” she asked.

No response.

She looked at his watch. Five hours had passed. Beyond the curtains, light gleamed.

“Noah.” This time she shook him gently. His eyes slowly closed, but he said nothing. She decided she should leave him alone for a while, give him some space.

She rose, straightening her rumpled clothes. Quietly she picked through Noah’s clothes and grabbed a clean turtleneck and a fresh pair of Noah’s jeans. They were big on her, hanging low on her hips, but it was the only pair of clean pants she could find. In the front room, she scrubbed up as much of the creature’s dried blood as she could, using a towel and water from Noah’s water bottle. She couldn’t get it all up, though, especially where it had seeped into the wood, creating a dark stain.

She was careful not to touch any of it.

After a brief, lukewarm shower in the camp bathroom, she stood in front of the steamy mirror brushing her teeth. Her cut looked a lot better, and she didn’t think she needed a new bandage. She gently touched the cut and thought about Noah. If he was still lying there motionless when she finished, she’d go out and get them some food. Then she’d have to think of a plan.

They may have lost Noah’s weapon, but she still had her ability to sense where the creature might be heading next. Was she no longer in danger? He certainly could have killed her yesterday, but he hadn’t. Maybe he was just playing games as Noah said.

She rinsed, gathered up her things, and returned to the cabin. In the bedroom, Noah still lay motionless, his eyes still closed. But the rapid rate of his breathing let her know he wasn’t sleeping.

She stared at him worriedly. Was he having a nervous breakdown? Or just a moment of futility? Maybe food would help. She didn’t think he’d eaten since breakfast the day before.

She looked at his watch: 1:30 p.m. Grabbing the cabin key, she left, locking the door behind her. The store lay just a quarter mile away on the narrow campground road. For a moment she stood on the porch, eyes darting nervously from side to side. But she was tired of being terrified, and now that they’d lost the weapon, she didn’t know how they could kill the creature, anyway. She was in just as much danger trapped inside the cabin as she was on the move out here, surrounded by people.

Screwing up her courage, she stepped off the porch, heading for the store.

Around her she heard the typical sounds of summer in the forest, the chirping and trilling of Douglas squirrels, the
chee-dee-dee
of mountain chickadees, the occasional police whistle-like call of a varied thrush. And always the scent of sun-warmed pine. It was a comforting smell, one that reminded her of endless happy hours spent hiking in the wilderness. She found herself smiling in spite of the dire situation. Sometimes nature reminded her of bigger things than her own problems. It whispered of ancient forests, the advancing and retreating of glaciers, the everyday foraging of birds and squirrels in the underbrush. Here these animals were, carrying on with their lives day after day. They foraged and gathered and stored, slept through winters and explored the springs. Trees weathered countless snowstorms, fierce winds, and mild summers, with the chattering of squirrels in their branches. They did this, year in and year out. The constancy of nature.

It always calmed her mind, the chaos of her problems seeming smaller, the panic subsiding. Time was she had worried about how to hide her gift, about not having any friends, about her parents’ aversion to her gift.

Today she worried about her own death. But still, even that seemed smaller, just one organism in the cycle of life, born one day and returning to the earth the next, her body food for coming generations of flowers and worms and trees.

This thought didn’t make her sad; it liberated her. The best she could do was make the most of the time she had left, whether that was seventy years or a day. She would live every moment to its fullest, and she would fight until the very end.

Madeline padded along the paved road until she reached the camp store area. A pack of kids rushed by her, screaming and running this way and that, attacking each other with robot action figures. A woman in a St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt yelled after them, “You all better be back for lunch! I ain’t gonna say it twice!” She piled into a monstrous RV and slammed the door.