Chapter 18
Amara
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Dylan, pupils blown wide, lips moving indecipherably. I shook my head to clear my vision but the world had gone blurry and rough around the edges. When I touched two fingers to my forehead, they came back bloodied, before they swam out of focus and the darkness swallowed me whole.
When I came to, it took me a moment to piece together what had happened. Something had hit us, something big. The car was on its side and so was I, limbs akimbo where I lay sprawled against the passenger door. Dylan was gone, and I was alone in the smoking husk of metal and broken glass.
Woozy and disorientated, I lifted my head and my vision rippled like disturbed water. I hauled myself upright and tested my sluggish limbs, bending arms and legs and letting out a breath when I found nothing broken. Everything was aching – and there was a sharp pain in my forehead like a nail driving into my skull – but not broken.
Movement flickered in my peripheral and I slowly swiveled my head toward it, but I couldn’t see much past the crumpled metal and the blood in my eyes. I tried to blink it away, and when that didn’t work, I balled a fist in the sleeve of my sweater and wiped my face.
When I was sure I wouldn’t topple over again, I began to crawl out of the wrecked car, picking my way past the jagged glass of the windshield. As I negotiated my way out of the crumpled vehicle the world tipped again, and the road beyond curled and twisted while I struggled to stay conscious. Somewhere along the way I sliced my hand and stared down at the gash in mute befuddlement.
Finally, my groping fingers touched rough asphalt and I hauled myself out, onto the road. The cold air shocked me out of my daze and I struggled to my feet, squinting at the blurry mass of moving objects in front of me. I dashed a hand across my eyes, tasting blood on my tongue, and looked again.
The scene before me was something out of a nightmare.
My breath quickened as I stumbled backward, panic rising as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. A monstrous figure, a twisted, deformed bat-like creature, locked in combat with what looked like a scaled gargoyle come to life. I stood rooted to the spot, a cold dread settling in my bones.
The bat creature was pale and sinewy, moving in a flurry of slashing claws. Two flesh-draped wings protruded from its back, the scant sunlight revealing a tapestry of veins running through each webbed segment. Tattered fabric clung to its gnarled form, remnants of clothing, as if this being had burst from the body of a regular-sized human.
Only, there was nothing human about it anymore. Back legs buckled at odd angles like an animal and claws the length of my forearm tore into the slathering gargoyle, scattering scales like red confetti and tearing the soft flesh underneath into bloody ribbons.
A scream lodged in my throat when the demonic creature opened its mouth, jaws unhinging to reveal row upon row of needle-like teeth. The creature snapped those deadly fangs shut on the scaled gargoyle's flailing arm, and I caught a glimpse of its face. A slitted nose and wide-set eyes, blood red and burning with vicious intent.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t run. I was rooted to the spot, clutching the dented bumper of the upturned car to keep myself upright.
In a swift, horrifying moment, the sinewy angel of death took down the gargoyle. I watched in mute terror as it dove glistening claws deep into the scaled creature’s back, tearing with a ferocity that made my stomach churn. Pointed fangs sank into torn flesh, ripping and burrowing into the gargoyle’s ridged back until it finally went still. The scaled face was skewed my way and I caught a glimpse of a lifeless, oil-black eye.
The sight of that gruesome engorged face burned into my retinas and a wave of nausea threatened to topple me to my knees. The bat-like creature gave one final slash, and blood sprayed the asphalt in dark arcs. The creature stood on bent hind legs, victorious over the gargoyle's lifeless body, ribbed chest heaving with exertion, blood dripping from demonic teeth and claws.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my body refused to obey, aghast at the wretched creature before me. I willed my legs to move, pressing fingers to my forehead to staunch the blood that trickled down my face. It had killed whatever that scaled thing was. It would be coming for me next.
As if it could hear my thoughts, the monster settled on its haunches and set its sights on me. Two blood-red eyes met mine and I shrank back against the mangled car. I took a half-step backward, shielding my body behind the bumper, and watched the monster fall still.
The creature watched me for a moment and I held my breath, ignoring the sharp pain in my forehead. When my lungs began to burn and I thought my heart would leap out of my throat, the creature tilted its head, long arms hanging at its sides.
Slowly, laboriously, the creature extended a bloody, taloned hand toward me. Like tunnel vision, all I could see were claws – reaching for me, eager to tear me apart. I flinched violently, my entire body jerking away. But still, I couldn’t run.
My breath came in short, panicked gasps. Cold sweat trickled down my back.
The creature’s eyes, red and gleaming, held a glimmer of something familiar, but it was overshadowed by the sheer terror of the rest of it. My body shook uncontrollably and my mind spun in circles, trying to reconcile the familiar and the horrifyingly incomprehensible.
Finally, I settled on one, spine-chilling thought. Monster.
Catapulted back to reality, my body responded to the primal urge to flee. With my heart in my throat, I turned on my heel and ran, tearing through the broken fence and into the field beyond, trampling corn shoots as I went. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to get as far away from that thing as possible.
I ran until my chest was aching and my lungs screamed for respite, pushing through the throbbing pain in my head and the darkness that clouded my vision.
I had no way to tell if the creature was following me, no way to hear the tell-tale footfalls of pursuit. I didn’t want to look back, but my spine prickled with unease and I had to know.
I glanced over my shoulder, and my mind hit a wall. There was no monster behind me, no jaws widening to swallow me whole. There was only Dylan, swathed in waves of raven hair, watching me from the wreckage on the side of the road.
In my panic and confusion I lost my footing, scuffing a stubborn shoot and falling hard. My ankle twisted painfully as I crashed into the dirt, showered in a spray of damp soil. My breath came in short sharp bursts as I flipped myself over and stared, twitching like a frightened rabbit.
Dylan looked the same as she always did, pale and tense, watching me through waves of black hair that shifted in the breeze. But she was covered in blood, streaked through with sweat and grime. It clung to her tattered clothes and dropped from her fingertips. She stood out like a jagged blade against the gray sky. In that tense moment of stillness, she felt like a stranger.
Dylan approached cautiously. I watched in mute terror as she stepped over the broken fence and moved toward me, stalking me with the fluid grace of a predator. She never took her eyes off me, never blinked. It was her eyes that unsettled me most. Pinprick pupils lost in a sea of deep crimson.
She was barefoot and her clothes hung from her slender frame in tattered rags, her mouth stained a sickening scarlet. A vengeful spirit ripped right out of a blood-curdling work of fiction. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t make any sense of her words.
My eyes settled on her hands instead, tinted that same startling shade of red. Those hands were moving, gesturing toward me and crossing over her chest, sweeping to the side and back again. I could only stare, shaking on the spot and fisting my own hands in the dirt.
Dylan crept closer and I gritted my teeth, curling my grazed knees toward my chin. She was the woman I knew and had come to care for. But she was also a stranger steeped in mystery, an unbreachable wall of ice. She was also, possibly, a monster. The blood on her hands was proof of that.
My mind was reeling, trying and failing to string the patchwork pieces together to get the full picture.
Dylan’s hands grew more exaggerated, her haunting eyes pleading. Her fingers twisted and her hands flailed, gesturing to me, crossing over her chest. Her movements were all at once clumsy and desperate, but my fear only heightened. Her lips moved again and I saw fangs, pointed and needle-like. I remembered the brush of those canines against my throat, the blood on my bottom lip. I shook my head, unable to process what she was trying to convey.
I fought for control over my tumbling thoughts, sucking in cold breaths through my teeth. What had I just seen? What was she? What exactly was I married to?
Dylan phased in and out of focus, only her hands clearly visible. Fingertips touching her chest, circling there, leaving a scarlet half arc on her bare skin. A hand swiping at an angle, index fingers twisting like a screw. A shake of her head that sent her hair flying. And all the while she held that pleading, desperate expression in her unblinking eyes. I couldn’t hold her gaze for long.
I bit down on my lip, wrapping my arms around my knees, folding in on myself. Through haphazard curls, I stared at her hands as she repeated the same motions over again.
At first, it looked like she was just waving her hands about, but some small part of my fracturing mind recognized the movements. Her flailing hands were deliberate, practiced. There was intent behind every motion.
I lifted my head slightly, dashing a hand over my eyes and watching closely. As if she’d reached some kind of breakthrough, Dylan crouched before me and started again. This time, I saw her frantic gestures for what they were.
Fingertips grazed her breast for “please,” a circular motion that completed the bloody wheel on her chest. A hand slashing diagonally, fingers twisting for “not hurt,” a shake of her head for emphasis. Palms crossed over her heart.
My eyes widened. Sign language – clumsy and jumbled, but I could just make out the meaning: Please. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.
The realization kindled something inside of me, a small flicker of something I couldn’t quite name. My mind wandered back to a moonlit garden, hovering in the memory for a brief moment.
And still, I sat petrified, muscles seizing as I struggled to make the connection between the monster I saw and the woman in front of me. But Dylan was wounded, just like the monster had been, her clothes tattered, and her eyes – not just bloodshot, but a piercing crimson down to the iris. Her canines protruded over her bottom lip, slowly retracting back to their former size.
The demonic creature with wings of a bat, and the woman in front of me were one and the same. She had killed that scaled being before my eyes, tore it to pieces. The evidence was right there on her hands. The same hands that were signing words of peace and reassurance.
Dylan had been practicing for my sake. The thought struck a chord in my fluttering heart.
But it could not erase the monster she had become. Two versions of Dylan existed in my mind, the bloodthirsty beast that brandished claws like knives, and the shadowy wraith with a soft spot for flowers. Stitched together they were a terrifying amalgamation, a Frankenstein creature that I could not make sense of.
I couldn’t trust her, couldn’t bring myself to meet her tarnished eyes. She was a monster, and those claws would be coming for me next. My heart pounded against the cage of my ribs and my head screamed for me to run, run, run, run, run .
But her clumsy, heartfelt attempt at sign language made me pause. Those talons could carve up anything that got in her way, but those fingers had also trailed lines of fire across my body without breaking me in the process. They were moving now, earnestly, conveying a desperate message in a language I understood.
By then, Dylan was close enough to touch, crouching before me like she was trying to make herself smaller. I leaned away, shaking uncontrollably, as she reached for me. Dylan flinched and backed up a little, pleading with those haunting red eyes and signing with her hands.
“Not safe,” she said with a thumb under her chin, crossing her wrists and pulling them apart again. Her finger shook slightly and her eyes traveled past me to the dingy warehouse in the distance. Those eyes were no longer a saturated red. The crimson hue was slowly draining from her irises, fading to a charcoal black like the night sky.
She gestured “go” with a sweeping motion, and “explain” by moving her hands back and forth. The promise was a firm crossing of her hands over her heart again. Dylan reached out a quivering hand and I fought the urge to recoil from her touch.
The message was clear enough: It’s not safe out here. We need to go. I’ll explain everything. I promise.
The true danger was right in front of me, in the form of a disheveled, coal-eyed woman. But her weary eyes kept fixating on the building in the distance. Whatever that scaled creature was, wherever it had come from, there could be more. I stared at Dylan’s outstretched hand, weighing up my dismal options.
Rather the devil you know than the devil you don’t.
Slowly, hesitantly, I took her hand, allowing her to pull me to my feet. The blood on her fingers was sticky like treacle, melding our hands together in a bloody bind. I felt as though I was outside of my body, suddenly numb as if shutting out my emotions was the only suitable survival mechanism.
Once I was up, I ripped my hand away, but this time I didn’t run. I knew deep down that I was terrified, but I just couldn’t feel it.
We both looked somberly at the wrecked car, and I saw Dylan sigh when she spotted her phone lying smashed up on the asphalt. After rummaging around in the battered vehicle, she found my cell in much the same state. She hauled a backpack out from somewhere behind the seat and slung it over her shoulder. I stood listlessly on the sideline, glazing over the wreckage and staring at nothing in particular. Anything to avoid looking at the scaled corpse growing cold at my feet.
Dylan caught my eye, gingerly stepping around the bloodied mound, and signed that we’d have to walk. With my jaw slack, I nodded ever so slightly and waited for her to move first.
Dylan wrapped her arms around herself and watched me for a moment with a pained expression on her dirt-streaked face. When I stared back mutely, she dropped her gaze and turned away.
She started walking, and I followed some distance behind. The empty road stretched ahead and behind us, flanked by desolate fields. We were far from anything or anyone who could help.
As we walked, tattered thoughts fluttered in my empty head like torn bits of paper. I wondered if it was time to cut my losses and run, leave it all behind – my father and my monstrous wife too. But with our ride smashed and no cellphones, the only choice was to keep walking.
Safety, and freedom, were a very long way away.