Jumlin's Spawn (10 page)

“Before, I hadn't had the boogeyman attack people I
love right in fucking front of me!” Yancey barked back. “Yeah,
strangely I'm inclined to believe her more now, thanks very much.
I’m a skeptic, I’m not stupid.”

“Sorry,” Oliver said quietly. He winced a little as
he stretched out his arm. “My wrist hurts. So, I'm cranky.”

“Let me take a look at it where there's light,” Elfie
said, walking across to accompany him around the corner to the
kitchen sink.

Yancey stood up and moved toward the corner storage
cabinet. “I'll grab the first aid kit.”

Elfie switched on a light, then plugged up the sink
and turned on the tap. Warm water spilled into the basin as Oliver
unbuttoned his sleeve. As his arm extended into the water, it
became pink. When Elfie turned on the overhead light, they both
could see his shirtsleeve soaked with blood. Oliver unbuttoned it
to roll it up but Elfie reached for scissors to split the sleeve's
seam.

“Yikes,” Oliver said, flinching at the sight of the
gash in his arm. “You wouldn't think all the adrenaline in the
world would let me ignore that.”

“That'll need stitches when we get back to the city,”
Yancey said, looking over his friends' shoulders as he handed Elfie
the first aid kit.

“We can disinfect it now and wrap it up,” Elfie said.
“I believe this disinfectant is that packet kind that hurts like
hell so put on your big boy pants, okay?”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Oliver said, grinning until he winced
as the disinfectant did its job.

Elfie handed one end of the gauze roll to Yancey.
“Feed that back to me while I wrap his owie, would you?”

Yancey took the roll and did as ordered. “Elf, did
you get a good look at that thing?”

“Hell, yes,” she said. “Too good. It had…you know
those Native American headdresses they wear in cowboy movies but
that no real Indian ever actually wears?”

“A war bonnet, you mean?” Yancey asked in reply.

“Yeah, like that, except it was all black
feathers.”

“The creature had a weird energy emanating from it,
too,” Oliver said, blanching as the disinfectant salve reached his
wound.

“Sorry,” Elfie said, wincing in sympathy as she
wrapped the gauze around three times. She snapped off tape and
sealed the dressing.

“No, I'm sorry,” he said. He stretched his fingers
out, as if to try the bandage on for size.

“For what?” Elfie said, squinting to discern any
possible reason for his regrets.

“Senior prom,” Oliver said. “Honey Trowbridge.”

Confusion ran rampant through her face. “Who? Oh, you
mean, that girl you went out with back in high school?”

“That's the one. I knew you didn't have a date for
the senior prom. I knew you wanted to go. But I took Honey
Trowbridge.”

“That was, like, a hundred years ago, Oliver. Who
cares?”

“I care,” he said. “I know it's a weird time to bring
it up, but I've always felt guilty about it.”

“Girls in the chess club aren't often asked to the
senior prom. It's a badge of honor for the breed. Anyway, you liked
Honey.”

“I liked you too,” he said.

“Not like you liked Honey. You can't change how you
feel. Life is like that.”

Oliver shook his head. “The main reason I didn't ask
you out is the guys from the track team razzed me about you having
a crush on me. I didn't want them to think – I don't know –”

“That a girl nerd was the best you could do?” she
asked, chuckling at the thought.

He sort of nodded and shook his head at the same
time. “I'm afraid so, yeah.”

She smiled at the thought. “That's a very high school
thing for a guy to do.”

“Yeah, but it hurt you. Badly. And I knew it
would.”

She retrieved the gauze roll from Yancey and closed
it in the first aid kit again. “So?”

“So, it's like what I did to you…this last time. I
said I'd never do that again, but I did.”

“Back in high school, Yancey and I did a group
baby-sitting gig for all of the high school faculty who had to
chaperone the prom. We pulled in major bucks that weekend.
Remember, Yancey?”

“Oh, yeah,” Yancey said, nodding.

“I bought a used car with the money from that
weekend,” Elfie said, “and our new relationship grew out of the
thing with you two. Everything works out for the best.”

“I'd like to think so,” he said, moving forward to
reach his arms around Elfie.

He stared down into her eyes with a power that seemed
to echo inside of her. It felt like she was hearing his thoughts on
the inside of her head.

Oliver didn't hug. Not like this. When she felt his
tongue taste her throat, she knew there was something wrong.

She gently pushed him away and tried to laugh it off.
“Come on, you've been injured. You can't possibly be in the mood
for this now.”

“Sure I can,” he said, reaching to pull her back.

She stepped back again. “Well, I'm not.”

“Why?” he snapped. “Are you backing off again like
you did before?”

She squinted at him and shook her head. “I can
back-off whenever I like, Oliver.”

“So, you are backing off?” he said, walking toward
her again. “We've told you we love you. We've given you every
reason to stay--”

“I didn't say I was going anywhere!” she shot
back.

He grabbed her again, and this time, thrust her
against the wall. His mouth captured her mouth. His hands climbed
her belly to her breasts and began to knead them.

“She told you, back off!” Yancey said, grasping
Oliver's shoulders to drag him off Elfie. “What the fuck is wrong
with you?”

The front door flew open. A figure rounded the corner
into the room. A voice shattered the kitchen's quiet like brittle
old glass, “Get away from them!”

They turned around toward the voice that had just
intruded. A Native American man stood there, brandishing a
sub-machine gun, pointed squarely at Oliver. It was Severin, the
man from the motorcycle, the man who warned them about the phantom
dogs.

“Back off and stand against that wall,” Severin said,
moving to stand between Oliver and the other two.

“What the hell are you doing, Severin?” Yancey said
sharply.

“You have to trust me for a moment, Yancey,” Severin
said. He yanked a pair of handcuffs from his belt and tossed them
across to Oliver. “I need you to listen. While you still have
enough concern for your friends, put these on.”

“Why?” Oliver asked, clearly confused.

“Just do it,” the man with the gun said. “I'll
explain after.”

“But, he has an injury on his arm,” Elfie added
quickly.

Severin reached for Oliver’s uninjured arm and cuffed
it, pulling the other end to lock around his own wrist. “I know.
When the beings attacked him, your friend was infected by
them.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Yancey asked.

“I know because I know,” Severin said, “and very
shortly, he'll bear no resemblance to the man you know. For your
safety and the safety of others, I have to bring Oliver with
me.”

Oliver's face was overshadowed by concern. He seemed
to be listening to his own head, to whispers in his own blood. “I
think he's right,” he said, his voice tightening in upon it. His
gaze appeared to turn inward. His complexion grew even whiter. “I
have to leave.”

“You'll come with me,” Severin said. “I'll see you
safely to where you must go.”

“What do you intend to do to him?” Yancey asked
sharply.

Oliver reached out with his un-cuffed hand and
grabbed Yancey's arm. “It'll be okay. I'll be back. Somehow. I'll
come back.”

“Oliver!” Elfie said, her voice breaking, “You can't
leave us. Not now.”

The first signs of tears misted his eyes. “I have
to,” Oliver said, removing his glasses and handing them to Elfie.
“I promise you, I’ll be back.”

Severin looked back, with regret in his eyes, and
said, “I'll see you soon.”

Oliver didn't look back…Elfie sensed that he couldn't
look back…and the door closed with a dark finality between them and
him.

Chapter Four

Oliver's mind flickered through random thoughts like
a ship’s masthead blown by the wind. He thought he felt the peak
path ripple beneath his feet, as if the world was a transmission
and his brain kept drifting off the signal. It terrified him while
something else tried to calm him. It felt like a kind of lullaby
humming through his blood--a mental signal to draw him toward the
embrace of the invisible. It also felt like a lie.

Severin put his weapon on safety and set it aside
before he plucked down on a big rock. He nodded Oliver to the
boulder across from him. Severin unlatched the handcuff from his
own wrist and latched it onto the metal bar embedded deeply in the
ground rock beside Oliver. The cuff on Oliver's wrist was now
chained to the ground.

“I'm sorry for this. One day, I hope you will realize
it was necessary,” Severin said.

Oliver watched as the final lock clicked in place. He
shook his head in disbelief. “I had a friend once who was fine one
day and the next day, he learned he had a brain tumor. One day
fine, the next day, a death sentence. I know what he felt like
now.”

Severin shook his head and pulled his knife from his
left boot. “You will survive. They've claimed you to establish what
they see as balance. None of this was an accident. They wouldn't
have gone to that trouble just to destroy you.”

Oliver squinted, trying to follow a conversation that
was turning on a dime. He also watched the knife. “They claimed me?
What do you mean?”

“They weren't after your friends. They were there for
you. You're a pawn in a very old chess game.”

“Why?”

The Sioux man shrugged. “I don't know why they do
what they do, only that they do it.”

“That's what the lady…Molly…said.”

Severin nodded and tossed him a smile. “She would
have. She's the one who taught me everything.”

“You're the guide she was going to send us,” Oliver
said, in sudden understanding.

Severin's smile melted into a gentle laugh. “In
truth, I've been riding with you the whole way, just to be on the
safe side.”

The Lakota man leaned down to aim the knife's blade
at the ground. He drew a pattern showing one entry branching off
several ways. “This is the layout of the Angel Caves. Laughing
Bear's inner circle amass in the depths of it, the spawn live in
the portal coves. You must stay as far from the inner circle as
possible and wait for us to come.”

“But if I've been infected by whatever they are won't
I become them?”

“No. There are choices to be made. You'll make a
better one, just as others have done. The caves are a vast,
subterraneous circuit. The creatures only live in a portion of it.
The song in your head will lead you away from danger and toward
safety. You'll be safe from the sun in the caves. We know the newer
beings can survive in there.”

“I hope you know what you’re talking about.”

“Believe me, I do,” Severn said, stowing away the
knife in his boot again. “I'll toss you the key to unlock yourself
in a moment. When you do, follow the call in your head toward the
caves. One way or another, your stay there will be short-lived, I
promise.”

“Why doesn't that sound very reassuring?”

Severin laughed a little. “You should feel fortunate.
You're going to be part of a great battle, a battle for the ages.”
He pitched the key at Oliver, who caught it. “I'll see you
soon.”

Before Oliver could rebuff him sarcastically with
some bit of wit about willingly forgoing the honor of a great
battle of the ages, Severin had already vanished from the path, his
footsteps echoing crisply down the hill.

Oliver turned toward the seven mouths of the caves.
He could hear the summoning voices singing through his blood. He
could feel the daylight stinging his skin, as if he was growing
allergic to it. The sun was barely reaching the sky. The brighter
the sky grew, the harder he found it to breathe.

He walked into the center cave.

Swallowed by a bright, white fog, he walked utterly
blind into the depths. Once beyond the blinding whiteness, the
passage ahead appeared dark, dark, dark, without all hope of day
dark, as John Milton once put it. The only illumination flickered
like fireflies trapped behind black glass walls.

His hand trembled as he touched it to the glassy cave
wall. He slowly advanced.

Something flickered from torches at the far end of
this passage. It flickered like fire, but it gave off no light.
Somehow, it burned with a black flame.

He heard a clatter of many feet shuffling his way.
The sound swept toward him like a low wave. The marching stopped
suddenly. He swung toward them. He remembered the flashlight on his
belt. He flicked it on and flashed the beam their way. The line of
child doll faces fractured into blue ash.

The child-like warbling gathered again and moved
closer. He crept nearer to the wall.

All the way to the end of the natural colonnade,
where the cave passages annexed a central part of the structure,
the black flame burned dimly enough to see through. Past the
torches, Oliver could see a pit at the center of the annex. Phantom
shadows fluttered over the cave pit walls, cast off by the black
fire torches.

Something draped in black fire arose from the pit. It
resembled a human-sized bat with angrily outstretched wings. What
he first thought to be feathers appeared to be licks of flame.

It pivoted upwards and turned slowly around.

He never saw the being completely before it rushed
toward him. He never felt the bite from the jaws that clamped down
on him from behind.

****

They just stood there, like two clenched fists,
unable to relax their grip on the moment. Elfie had no clue what to
say or do. She felt like she'd been broadsided by a truck and left
half-conscious in the middle of the road.