Chapter Seventeen
I have to get in. Why won’t they let me in?
I’m pacing back and forth outside the door.
I pound. I scream. I call for help. All I can feel is anger.
Uncontrollable agitation. I stop pacing, instead I stand, scratching the wall in front of me.
I scratch it until I bleed. These ones are stubborn, but the hunter always wins. I will break her.
I open my eyes. My mind sometimes feels like it’s not my own when I dream.
Maybe that should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Reality has become more terrifying, at least the dreams fade.
It already is. The last thing I remember is watching myself from afar.
I’m calling my own name and all I feel is hate and an insatiable hunger but not for food. Hunger to possess.
I close my eyes and let the dream go. I can't have anything holding me back. I was up most of the night going over what to do next–what I have to do and how I’m going to do it.
I'm scared to look at Luke. I don’t know what to expect.
I’m hopeful he’s somehow better, but I already know he probably isn’t.
I have to stay strong for him and for me.
I roll over so I’m facing him and sit up fast when I see that he’s lying on top of the covers, half naked and covered in mud.
His bandage has fallen off and his wound is looking worse than it did last night.
His eyes are wide open, but he’s not blinking.
I lay my hand on his arm, shaking him gently.
“Luke?” Slowly, he turns his head to look at me, and I watch as he gradually comes back from wherever his mind was.
He blinks a few times but still isn't making eye contact with me. I don’t know what to say or do, so I try to smile and softly repeat his name, wanting to guide his eyes to mine.
“I had a dream,” he says, looking back up to the ceiling.
“I went to the basement. Someone was already down there and they asked me to go with them. So, I opened the door and I followed them into the tunnel. It felt like I was walking forever. It was so dark. I had to follow the voices; they led me out into the forest. The tunnel opened up like a mouth, spitting us out into the trees. They forced me into that… hole. The one we found dug into the tree. There were things in there, terrible things…” His voice breaks as he starts to cry.
I try to keep my face composed but inside I feel the fire of fear burning hotter.
I climb over to him and wrap my arms around him, holding him tight to my body.
I don’t ask him any questions; I just let him cry.
I exist in this moment as his shield, to protect him.
When I feel his body soften and his breathing slow, I loosen my arms and look down at him.
He’s so exhausted that he fell back asleep.
I stay here with him, letting him sleep as I run my fingers through his hair.
_____
“Luke, we need to clean you up. You can get right back in bed after.” He doesn’t answer or stir so I shake him gently.
“Luke. You need to take a shower. You can’t sleep right now.
” He still doesn’t move. He doesn’t seem to feel me much less hear me.
“Shit shit shit…” I start panicking as I jump out of the bed and run around to his side.
I lay my hand on his forehead and he’s somehow even hotter. I don’t know what to do.
I pace around the room, trying to think of anything I can do but only feeling lost. My aggravation bubbles over and I smack the side of my head with my palm in an effort to snap myself out of it.
“Wake up. You need to do something. It’s now or never,” I mumble to myself in an attempt to focus myself.
I run to the bathroom and once again grab a washcloth to clean Luke the best I can.
I want to change the bandages on his chest, but his first-aid kit sits empty so I settle for washing the wound and changing him into a clean, new shirt.
The last thing I can think to do is get him food and water to set on the bedside table.
I want him to have something close when he wakes up.
I run downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing a couple apples and granola bars.
It isn’t a lot but it’s shelf stable. As I glance around for anything else he might need, I see the gun box on the table and am reminded that I never got Luke’s help with it.
I hope I won’t find myself in a position where I need to use it but I don’t want to be caught without a choice.
I need to figure out how to fully load it so it's ready. I rush over, pulling the gun out of the box. I already know how to open it, so that’s easy, but as I place a second bullet into the opening and try to close it, it gets stuck. I push harder but nothing happens.
After a few more tries, I flip the gun over, letting the bullets fall back out.
I stop and wonder what I’m doing wrong as I look toward the stairs and contemplate trying to get Luke to show me.
I quickly decide against it. He needs to rest and, in his current state, I don’t know how much help he would be.
Several attempts later, I figure out that I need to push the bullets down into a lower chamber which leaves room to keep adding more.
Finally, I get excited, picking up another bullet and doing the same.
This one also clicks into place right above the last. I keep pushing bullets in until I can’t add any more, but when I go to close the bullets inside, once again, it won’t close.
I push harder but still nothing happens.
“What the fuck…” I mumble to myself feeling frustrated at how little I remember about guns.
I wish I had paid more attention at that gun range.
I try to dump the bullets back out again but this time only one falls out.
I realize, I have no idea how to get the rest out, so I don’t bother trying.
As I look down at the one that did fall out, I notice it looks weird.
It’s green and swollen; the end of it is even a little bent.
I throw it back into the box before placing a different, better-looking bullet into the gun.
I take a deep breath and try to close the gun.
It takes a little force, but the bullet pushes into the front, letting me twist it closed.
My eyes go wide, “Oh my god… I did it!” A huge smile inches across my face at my victory.
I place the gun back into the box before grabbing Luke’s supplies and head back upstairs.
When I get back into the bedroom, Luke has kicked the blankets off himself and is now shivering.
I hurry to him, setting the food and water on the bedside before tucking the blankets back around him.
This time I leave his arms out and push the blankets underneath him, hoping they will be secure enough to stay.
There isn’t anything else I can do to help him here.
He needs a hospital with medicine and real food.
I’m starting to feel afraid that if I don’t find help, he could die.
I let one tear slip down my face but wipe it away before it falls.
If I can’t stay calm and strong, then this is over before it begins.
I lean down and kiss Luke’s lips softly but he doesn’t kiss me back or acknowledge my presence.
“I love you. I’m going to go get help, but I’ll be back.
I promise.” As I start to stand, I see a ring on his finger.
Luke doesn’t wear a ring. I attempt to pull it off, but it’s stuck.
Where did he get that and why would he put it on?
It gives me a terrible feeling, but I don’t have time to worry about it.
I race around the room, throwing supplies into Luke’s hiking backpack before getting dressed.
I put on as many layers as I can, tying my hair up before covering it all with my hat so it doesn’t get caught on anything again.
I throw the backpack over my shoulder and walk out of the room, stopping for one last look at Luke.
I take a moment, trying to memorize every part of his face.
Before I turn to leave, I see my shattered phone on the bedside table.
I’ve had it plugged in since I stepped on it, hoping it might still turn on.
So far it hasn’t, but something tells me to bring it anyway.
I’m glad I decided to grab it because at the last second I also remember the walkie- talkies, taking one and tossing it into the backpack as well.
I position the other closer to Luke where I hope he will see it.
As I’m walking down the hallway, I hear a knock at the front door.
My head snaps up and I can't help but smile with excitement. I run to the stairs, hoping I’m not just hearing things.
Please let someone be here, someone who can help us–maybe the cleaners, like Luke predicted.
I get halfway down the stairs before a voice calls out, “Hello? Is anyone there? If you let me in, I’ll help you.
Hello?” I halt on the steps, my heart sinking, the voice isn’t normal.
It sounds almost robotic, fading in and out, sometimes stuttering, almost like it’s practicing the words.
I sneak down a few steps and when I get low enough to glimpse out the window, I see a figure standing at the door.
I’m still high enough on the stairs that all I can see is their midsection.
Its body looks bent and disfigured. Its skin grey and sunken-in, tight to its bones.
Every rib is poking out at different angles. It’s not human. At least… not anymore.
The thought crushes every ounce of hope I had.
I want to scream and punch the walls, but I don’t dare make even the smallest noise so, instead, I focus all my attention on squeezing the straps of the backpack.
My sore fingers scream in agony, but the pain is the only thing keeping me in this moment.