The Secret: A Thriller (13 page)

* * *

I
found the creek again, and nearly gave in to a bizarre impulse to clean myself up before finding my family.

I fought it off, and moved further into the scrub woods.

Though I did smell pretty awful. Maybe I could toss the food to Rebecca from a distance? And
then
go clean myself up?

Screeching, in the distance. I paused. For the moment at least, though, it had nothing to do with me.

Over the next rise, and the basement would be in view. I wanted to shout, but held myself back. No sense attracting…

* * *

T
he wind shifted. Suddenly I was sure Rebecca wouldn’t care how I stank.

Because the stench coming from the basement was far worse.

* * *

I
dropped the food bag. I suddenly realized I’d carried it all, all the way—and my muscles hadn’t strained much either—but I didn’t especially care.

I felt a scream deep in my throat, and my eyes wanted to bathe themselves in tears. But first…

I walked forward, somewhat careful about making noise but not very. If whoever had done this was still around, unarmed or not I’d—

* * *

I
saw a ribcage, picked mostly clean, by the basement door, and started to sink to my knees.

But then the door opened. “Daddy!” Abigail called—and then she put her hand over her mouth, looking frightened.

I grinned at her, unable to speak.

She beckoned me closer. I moved in—I must have been walking but it felt like floating—and opened my mouth. “Oh, honey…”

Then my daughter’s eyes went wide. Looking right at me she raised her hand to her mouth. And screamed.

What? Was I…I felt normal. I looked down at myself. Nothing unusual; no spare parts. I tried to smile, “Hon, I don’t—”

And the world went dark.

* * *

W
aking, I didn’t know where I was. I hurt, and I spun. Or the room spun…was I in a room?

I heard a voice—a voice I loved, a voice I’d been trying to reach—and it soothed me.

Someone removed my clothes and cleaned me. It was warm, wet, thorough…again, I slept.

* * *

“D
addy? Daddy, are you awake?”

I opened my eyes to see Abigail staring worriedly into my face. “Daddy, it’s been two whole days. You need to eat something.”

I shook my head. Two days?

I peered around. I was in the basement, on a pallet. Under a blanket I was naked. “Is your mom—”

Abby was shaking her head. “She’s out hunting.”

God, that was good to hear. I smiled at my daughter. “Where are my clothes?”

“Oh. Mom kind of cut those off you. But here, I picked out an outfit for you!” Proudly, she pointed at some jeans and a T-shirt, folded in a pile against the wall.

She turned her back and I got dressed. “So Mom’s out hunting. How are you set for water?” I asked, turning around.

Abby shook her head. “We don’t have very much.”

“But your mom cleaned me up anyway? That’s okay; I can go try the old well. Maybe it’ll work. If not, I’ll—”

Abby was still shaking her head. “What?” I asked. “You didn’t clean—”

She turned bright red. “No, Daddy! It’s just…you can’t go outside right now.”

I looked at my daughter. She seemed to be in relatively good shape. Not obviously hungry or injured in any way…my heart filled with gratitude.

But…“Look, Abby. I’m okay now.” I was, too. Mostly. “It’s okay for you to worry, but I’ll be fine.”

I moved to the door. But Abby grabbed my shirt from behind. “No, Daddy! Mommy’s friend is out there! I call him George. He’s the one who hurt you when you got here, and Mommy was so mad but he’s sorry now but still you shouldn’t…”

Still facing the door, I stopped moving.

Mommy’s friend?

I opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine. Peered around, saw nothing unusual, and called back to my daughter. “Hon? Can you tell me—”

I heard a hoot from above, and turned to look. In an ancient and gnarled live oak…clad only in a yellowed, torn pair of jockey shorts that might have been, a part of myself that I couldn’t silence commented critically, even older than the tree…crouched a naked hairy guy. With fangs.

He hooted again.

“Abigail?” I asked.

She came up behind me. “He won’t hurt you if you stay in here,” she said. “He was really mad when you first came here, but Mommy made him leave you alone.”

I swallowed, then cocked my head to the left. “Um. How did she…?” I stopped and looked around. The stench up here was still terrible. I could see the remains of two deer and a couple of rabbits. At least I thought they’d been rabbits—they might have been cats instead.
I decided it didn’t make a difference. And I didn’t want to know.

I also didn’t want to hear my daughter’s answer to the real question in my mind. The one I
had
to ask. I didn’t get to choose—this was my family. And Rebecca wouldn’t have left that mess lying there. Unless.

But I couldn't come straight out with it either. “Abby, how is your mother? Is she okay?”

“Oh, Daddy.” She started crying, and I took her in my arms. “Mommy’s just. Um, she’s different, now.”

Oh my God. My sweet Rebecca…I couldn’t stand thinking about it.

But I couldn’t stop. So I stood there, and I held my daughter close. And cried with her.

Behind us, from his perch in the tree, my wife’s new friend hooted mournfully.

An answering hoot came from somewhere not far away, and I closed my eyes.

* * *

A
few minutes later I heard her drop from a tree but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t.

Abby looked past me, then up to my face, and turned away. She opened the door to the basement—I hadn’t known she could do that by herself; even with the counterweight the door was heavy—and went in.

I heard a shuffling sound behind me. George shifted in his tree. He looked…uncertain?

What did it mean to him, that Rebecca had put me under her protection? Did he see me as a rival? Or…a pet?

A plaintive hoot from behind, more shuffling, and a hand clasped my shoulder. I didn’t look at it.

Slowly, she turned me around and simultaneously moved, placing herself between me and the basement. Was she trying to keep me away from Abby? From our…our daughter?

I studied my feet. She put a finger—a finger with a two-inch claw—under my chin.

I met her eyes.

She was beautiful still. Maybe more than ever. But not remotely human. Her eyes, always hazel before, had turned bright green and were slitted like a cat’s. Her jaw had lengthened and her nose had shortened. Hair sprouted lower on her forehead, and she had a sort of mane under her chin. Or a beard, I guess.

Her breasts had shrunk, and she squatted more than stood.

She was…very hairy. And naked.

Oh god. I jerked my gaze back up. Her labia had been enlarged by the transformation, and were colored a bright red.

She looked directly into my eyes. I couldn’t stand it: I looked away.

The creature that had been my wife gave a sad, whimpering hoot. Then she turned and bounded off into the woods.

George gave an unhappy grunt, glared at me, and followed.

Down at my feet, I saw Rebecca had brought us a rabbit.

I tried not to think it—but it reminded me of the mice and birds my cat used to bring me, before he’d disappeared last year. Only the rabbit, today, was skinned and gutted.

Mr. Claws had never taken his gift-giving quite that far.

I sat for a few minutes, breathing hard, and tried not to pass out. Losing my mind entirely would have been okay right then. Or…almost. There was still Abby to think of.

So I started gathering twigs, and then larger sticks, for a fire.

* * *

“A
bby? Are you okay in there?”

No answer. It was the third time I’d knocked. I couldn’t imagine how hard the last few days must have been for her.

I’d set everything up for a fire, dragged partially-eaten and rotting carcasses of previous meals off into the woods, and tried to get my head together.

Yeah. That was working well.

This time I pulled the door open. “Abby? I’m coming in.”

* * *

I
found her huddled on a pallet. Looking around inside, I could see very little had changed since I’d left them a few days ago. Someone had eaten all the Pop-Tarts, nuts, and other snackable items. But nothing that required cooking appeared to have been used at all. Logically enough.

I found the matches and regarded my daughter. “C’mon, honey,” I said. “Let’s go sit outside while I fix lunch.”

* * *

T
he rabbit wasn’t bad once I seasoned it—the spices hadn’t even been unpacked, but we’d thrown several into a bag when we’d come out here. Abby ate slowly. Using, I was glad to see, a fork and knife.

Would she too turn into …something nonhuman? Would I? Had we already?

Suddenly I wondered—with all the hunting Rebecca had apparently done—“Abby? Has…has your mom been feeding you?”

Abby looked up. “Sometimes. She likes it when I eat what she brings.”

The cooking supplies had been unused. And I couldn’t see any evidence of previous fires.

“Okay,” I told her. “Do you want to stay here?”

Abby shrugged. “Mom doesn’t let me go very far.”

I frowned. Maybe the best thing would be to grab some stuff right now and—

A crashing sound in the brush. I stood up and grabbed the shotgun I was keeping near. But I recognized the fangs, and lowered the gun’s muzzle to the ground.

George was back.

* * *

T
hat night Rebecca came back and bustled Abby below, into the basement. As I watched, she cuddled my daughter. An inhumanly long and thin tongue extruded past her lips…and her fangs…to lick my daughter’s face. My right hand tightened on the shotgun I was carrying as I’d followed them inside.

But Abby leaned into the creature. “Good night, Mommy,” she said, and settled herself in her sleeping bag.

The Rebecca-thing turned, barely glancing my way—but she did give my injured leg a good sniff—and left the basement.

I settled in next to my daughter, but sleep didn’t come easily. Twice during the night I heard helicopters and gunfire. Once, I heard screeching follow.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that. I didn’t wish any harm to…the creature.

I decided I would just call her Rebecca. She obviously still loved her daughter, and had even protected me from George—who was almost certainly her new mate.

But Abby needed to be around actual
people
. I didn’t want to raise her in a hole in the ground in the woods, with her not even allowed to walk around.

Not that I really expected our current situation to last—nothing, since the day this had all started, had remained stable. For any of us.

But I still planned to get my daughter away. Not just away from Rebecca—but away from Henge entirely.

If I could.

* * *

I
n the morning George was still hanging around. Was this normal, for whatever species they’d become? Did the females hunt and the males guard a nest? It didn’t seem likely to be a good division of labor, assuming pregnancy incapacitated the females at least partially, but on the other hand whatever they did couldn’t exactly be described as the product of
evolution
…if Tim was right, they were just doing whatever they wanted. Did they even
have
any instincts? If so, were they the same, or even similar, between one individual and another?

I picked up a rock and threw it against a tree. George glanced my way.

“Hey, buddy!” I called. “Raise your right hand if you understand a damn word I say!”

George looked away.

“Seriously, George—mind if I call you George?—how much of a person are you?”

No answer.

“George? Are you banging my wife? And either way—is she still in there? Her mind? You love her for her mind, don’t you man?”

George shook his head irritably, yawned—displaying his fangs—and bounded away into the woods.

“Yeah, right!” I called after him. “Run away! Coward!”

I heard a giggle behind me, and turned. Abby stood in the doorway to the basement, covering her mouth with one hand. “He
is
banging your wife, Dad,” she told me.

I stared at my daughter. I knew she knew what that meant—Abby had always been good at picking up things her mother and I would have preferred she didn’t—but why in the world did she think it was funny?

It wasn’t because she was…changing…was it? Physically, or…well, she had to be reacting mentally to all the disruption, but…

“Daddy?” she asked, after a moment. “Is this our home now?”

“Maybe we can find a new home before too long,” I told her. “Meanwhile, want to read me a book?”

Inside, while my daughter read to me from Harry Potter, I gathered some tools and some ammunition into a backpack, and stored it in a corner.

When we got a chance to go, I wanted to be ready to leave immediately.

* * *

G
eorge gave a warning hoot.

Just to test the waters, I’d left all supplies behind and gone on a walk with my daughter. I didn’t see George or Rebecca anywhere, but we’d wandered in ever-wider circles.

Abby looked up at me. “This is as far as he lets me go,” she said.

I hadn’t told her what we were doing, but I suppose it was obvious. “So let’s walk around some more, at about this distance,” I said. “Maybe he’ll relax eventually.”

But he didn’t.

* * *

T
hat night Rebecca seemed sullen. She didn’t look at me much, and stayed out of Abby’s reach too.

I figured it was a good sign, as long as she didn’t decide to eat us.

She’d brought us another rabbit. Abby offered her some cooked meat—and I almost laughed watching her roll her eyes and eat it. I guess it tasted pretty awful to her…for a moment our eyes met, and it was as if we were sharing a joke without speaking, as we’d always been able to do in front of the kids.