Corner of the Housetop: Buried Secrets (42 page)

He crawled.

He saw a hollow in a tree trunk far away. If he could only make it there before they caught him, he could hide. He would be safe for a moment.

It took days of fearful scrambling, but Derek made it. As he squeezed into the narrow space in the tree trunk, he realized he was not alone. He saw eyes. Human eyes. He tried to scream, but only managed a hoarse gasp. It was her! He'd found her!

"I'm here," Derek told her desperately in a scratchy rasp.

She did not reply. She was not alive. She was dead. The night creatures had killed her.

Derek tried to touch her face. It was rough and warm.

Pulling his hand back quickly, startled, he realized it had to be a trick. It wasn't her. It was a fake. A decoy. Which meant the night creatures knew where he was hiding!

Derek struggled to extricate himself from the tight quarters. If they found him here he would surely be caught! His shirt was stuck. The girl was holding his sleeve. He could not escape! He tried to push her away as he jerked himself backwards, but there was something behind him a night creature, perhaps. It hit him on the head with a deafening
crack!
and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

When Derek awoke, the light from the eaves was upon him. The sweat on his arms and back made his shirt stick to his skin uncomfortably. He felt like he was drowning in himself and the heat. As he pulled at his clothes to loosen them from his body, he peered around. He could see clouds of dust floating in the air between the lumps of furniture. He started to sit up, but his brain pulsed with pain. Closing his eyes, he pressed his hands to his forehead.

When he could open them again he realized he was lying on top of the painting of the girl. There was a hole in the canvass just under her chin, as though someone's fist had punched through it. He tried to sit back, but his sleeve was caught in the splintering corner of the wooden frame. As he freed himself, he noticed the small letters at the bottom. He squinted at them.

"Kylie Mae," he read slowly, stumbling over the second word.
It's a name
, he thought. He touched the rough paint of her face. "Kylie Mae," he said, trying the name. He was lost staring into her green eyes for several minutes.

The light shifted away from him and slunk across the floor.

As he watched her, time faded away slowly and his exhaustion returned. He wondered when Beth would come with food, or if she would come at all. Maybe she had already come. He couldn't recall much beyond the moment of his waking.

The pounding in his forehead grew unbearable and the patch of dull light disappeared. Derek crawled out of the crevasse between the dresser and bookshelves. He crawled towards the cloth-covered furniture by the far wall. The effort expended to get there exhausted his energy and when he arrived he could not seem to pull himself up onto the soft, plush cushions.

He sank back onto the floor in front of the chair and closed his eyes.

Derek fought his way through the woods, pushing aside branches and fighting against the heavy vines that hung across the path. He could hear them behind him. He could smell the foul rot of a hundred devoured humans on their breath. He cracked his shins on stumps and stubbed his toes on dead logs as tried to run faster. He only tangled himself more in the underbrush.

"Derek!"

He fought to reach her voice.

"Find me."

The terror swelled in Derek's throat, choking him as he burst through the trees into a small, dark clearing. All around him, eyes stared out from the bushes. Teeth gleamed in the low light that seeped down from above the black canopy. It must be daylight. But the night creatures were out. He was too deep in the woods. The night creatures could come out in the day here….

One charged at him with heavy steps pounding over the ground. It was tall and dark and terrifying. Derek scrambled to get away, tripping and falling against a tree on the other side of the clearing. Another form came. It tried to grab him but he fought it off. He kicked the first, which was crouched beside him, its head raised, its teeth bared in hunger and fury.

It howled in pain and rage.

The second came at him again. Try as he might, he could not escape and they took him, holding him with their claws. He struggled in vain.

They had him. The night creatures clawed at his clothes and tore at his flesh.

Derek tried to kick against them. He tried to scream. His voice was gone to ten million years of thirst. He wished he could have gotten to the pond in the meadow. Just one drink before he died….

Thinking of the girl of Kylie Mae determination sparked in his chest and his struggles renewed. Twisting against the claws that held him, Derek looked into the green-eyed face of the first and largest night creature.

He'd seen it before…. It must be the same one that ate him last time. With a final burst of energy, Derek broke free: he tried to run, but fell even as he stepped. The creature plucked him from the ground as though he weighed nothing. It was over. He would die again.

Maybe I'll wake up. Maybe it's a dream again
….

It was a lie. The claws felt too real. He was suddenly blinded by light and pain and he knew it was the end. From inside the light came darkness and he fell into it.

Derek woke slowly and jumped when he felt something touch his arm. He sat up, black dots bursting before his eyes, blinding him.

"Lie down."

His head spinning, Derek complied. When the spots disappeared, he looked around the room as much as he could. His senses swam from the motion. "I don't feel good," he slurred. He felt a cold, wet cloth mop over his forehead and he shivered.

"Shh." It was Beth's voice that tried to soothe him. "Just rest."

"Beth, I don't feel good," he repeated. He tried to sit up again, convinced by the woman's calm tone that she wasn't taking him serious enough. She didn't understand what he meant when he said he didn't feel good.

Gently pushing him back down, Beth whispered, "Don't talk. Just try to sleep."

"I kinda feel sick," he told her. Warm tears spilled down his cheeks. He couldn't say why he was crying. He wasn't hurt. He just had a bit of a headache.

"That's because you
are
sick. Now try to sleep."

"How did I get sick?"

"You were " she started, but was interrupted.

"He's awake? How is he?"

Derek looked towards the door and tried to glare when he saw Jonathan. All he managed to do was make his head hurt more with the effort.

"Not well," Beth answered. "He has a fever and I can't get him to stay still. He keeps trying to sit up. I think the doctor took him off the medicine too soon."

A little annoyed that Beth was ignoring his question, Derek repeated, "How did I get sick?"

"Should I send for him?" Jonathan asked with no visible concern.

"It might be best. Maybe more of the sedative "

"I don't need a sedative," Derek cut in angrily. He tried to push himself up again. His arms shook.

"I told you to lie down," Beth scolded gently, guiding him back to the pillow with firm hands on his shoulders.

Having her attention again, he asked, "How did I get sick?" stubbornly refusing to let them ignore what he considered a reasonable question.

"You were in the heat for too long," Jonathan answered with the tone of one placating a child who kept interrupting conversing adults.

"I was?"

"Yes."

"I did my chores early because I knew the afternoon would be too hot," he recounted drowsily, his mind hunting for the first solid memory it could find.

Jonathan walked closer to the bed Derek was lying in. "If you don't rest, you'll only stay sick, which would be a bother to everyone. I will call for the doctor to bring you more medication unless you settle down on your own and do as you're told. Do I need to send for him?"

Derek rocked his head from side to side in his pillow, exhaustion returning and keeping him from making any more of a gesture.

"Then never mind how it happened and sleep so you can get better." Jonathan's eyes were distant, his tone oddly gentle.

"Don't tell me what to do," Derek mumbled. His eyes fell closed and he sank back into his fevered sleep.

The familiar sound of a noisy cardinal coaxed Derek out of sleep. As he opened his eyes, he became aware that his headache had lessened and he could look around the room without discomfort. Once he identified himself to be in the guest room, he relaxed back into his pillow and tried to recall how he'd come to be there.

He remembered a bit of Saturday and a haze of Sunday manifested in annoyance at Gabriel. Beyond that everything was too distant and fuzzy.

No, there was the dream
, he thought. He suddenly recalled the girl in the attic.
The painting had a hole in it…. Kylie Mae
. At the recollection of the name, everything from Sunday night rushed back to him. The fire. The attic.

Sitting up carefully, Derek looked out the open door. There was no one in the hall and he didn't dare call to anyone in case he disturbed Catherine. He lied back, awake and anxious for a person to walk by.

Ten minutes passed, then footsteps came from the far end of the hall. As Gabriel walked by his door, Derek called, "Gabe?" He was startled at the croaking rasp that came out.

Gabriel stopped and peered in curiously. "You're awake?"

Nodding slightly, Derek shifted so he was sitting up more. "What happened?"

Stepping carefully, Gabriel entered the room and stood by the door. "What? With you?"

"Yeah. With anything."

"Well, you were in the attic for a few days."

"Days?"

Gabriel nodded, still keeping his distance. "When Jonathan got home and he found out about the fire he was furious. Then he found out about Mother not letting you eat and locking you up. That made him even more mad."

Derek was silent.

"He went to take you out of the attic, but you were pretty sick. The doctor said it was heat poisoning. I guess you didn't recognize Jonathan or Beth." Grinning a little despite his obvious nerves, he added, "You even kicked Jonathan in the face and gave him a nice black eye."

"I did? He looked fine earlier."

"It's had a week to clear up."

"What day is it?" he demanded disbelievingly.

"Tomorrow is August first. It's been a week and a half since…you know."

Surprised, Derek leaned back against the headboard. "Really?"

Gabriel nodded, his stiffness easing a bit. "You've been delirious for five days. Kept screaming and having fits. Dr. Crawford wasn't sure you'd get better. He had to keep giving you medicine so you wouldn't try to get out of the room. He thought you might have gone mad. Jonathan was so angry."