Hope (2 page)

She heard a soft thump beyond the living room. The crunching of footsteps in the sand drew her attention and she stared at the wall. Maybe someone had come to rescue her. A shadow darkened the dining room again. After another thump, she heard the sound of a second set of footsteps. Every instinct in her body told her to flee and she obeyed.

Kathryn slipped into her study, closing and locking the door behind. She threw open the closet door and scrambled to move her computer chair over to the closet. Climbing onto the rolling desk chair, she gripped the shelf to steady herself. She reached above her to the top shelf, her fingers just brushing the metal box.

No! Why did Dad push it so far back?

The sound of nails clicking upon the hardwood floor and a wet snuffling made her turn toward the door, gasping for breath. The door exploded into splinters as someone—or something—entered the room and she fell from the chair as a clawed hand reached for her. She shrieked when a set of inhuman hands yanked her upward by the arms. Her legs swung in the air and brushed the black hide of the beast that held her high above the floor.

The beast, taller than the doorway, filled half of the room. A second one filled the other half. Their eyes were a bright orange in the pits of their grotesque faces. Bat-like wings flowed out behind their black angled bodies. Their leathery hide, cracked in places, failed to contain the thick green liquid that moved beneath its surface. Double-jointed legs ended in large claws and long horns protruded from their heads. They had to be demons from this insane nightmare of a horror movie.

Her frantic kicks had no effect and only made the creature’s nails dig deeper into her flesh. Its pointed teeth and hot breath lingered over her. She gagged at the smell of death as the beast pulled her closer to its mouth. Oddly detached, she noted the orange shade of its mouth matched its eyes, and then her head cleared.

"
F'enk'e'alath shel'an're
!" Kathryn heard herself speak.

She fell to the floor as fire ripped through the bodies of the creatures. Their agonized screams pierced her mind and she covered her ears. Scrambling into the closet, she cowered in the corner. The creatures thrashed upon the floor, their long tails crashing into her desk and the walls. Her pictures crashed to the floor and Kathryn closed her eyes at the destruction. She wept as the smell of burning meat permeated the air and the sound of the creatures’ thrashing ceased.

Kathryn crept from the relative safety of the closet. The charred bodies of the creatures atop the blackened floor took up the entire room. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped in the open areas between their limbs and made her way to the study door. Once there, she turned and took one last look at the destruction, then vomited onto the floor.

Holding her hand over her mouth and nose in an attempt not to gag over the new combination of smells, she turned away from the scene. The feeling of the creatures’ claws on her skin made her shudder and she started sobbing, sliding down against the doorjamb and holding her knees to her chest. An uncontrollable shaking seized her body and she breathed in short gasps, but a part of her remained aloof.

A little less fire next time.

Several minutes later, she crawled into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Closing her eyes, she breathed through her mouth and attempted to calm down. The heat sucked the moisture from her mouth, but that was better than dealing with the smell. She had to get out of here. There could be more of those creatures and a house in the middle of a desert screamed "buffet."

She scrambled up and grabbed her backpack from the corner. Unzipping all of its pockets, she turned it upside down and shook it. Her laptop hit the floor amidst the floating papers outlining the programming code. She couldn’t care less if the users crashed the system with ten keystrokes; she just wanted the damn bag.

Bag in hand, she threw open the refrigerator door and shoved six bottles of water into the pack. She abandoned the fridge and searched through her cabinets. Her pathetic store of peanut butter and Doritos wouldn’t get her very far. Setting the bag upon the counter, she threw in a half loaf of wheat bread and a butter knife before zipping the largest pocket.

"I should just leave them. I can survive without them." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and blowing it out through pursed lips. "Damnit." She pushed away from the counter and marched to the study.

She waded through the charred corpses, grabbed the pictures, minus their broken frames, and retreated to the kitchen. Sitting on the stool, she expected the mirror image in the first photo to reflect her frown, but her mother’s smile lit up the slate-gray eyes framed by mousy hair. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the other photos, so shoved them and Ella into the front pocket of the backpack before shouldering it.

What else? Food, water...the gun! Back amidst the bodies, she struggled to find an even spot for the computer chair in front of the closet. Groaning in frustration, she gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles that ached from endless typing. The sunlight shone upon the blue flowers and Kathryn reached out to rub the delicate weave of the shawl hanging in the closet.

Kathryn had never worn the black shawl with blue roses. She remembered her forced smile when she thanked her mother for the Christmas gift and Rachel’s incessant "What is it?" Before the tears could flow, a thump outside drew her toward the window. A green sedan with blue lights upon its roof sat behind her car with its door wide open and its passenger lying upon the ground. Beyond the car, a group of black figures flew toward the house.

Kathryn raced from the study, shoving the shawl into the backpack while she slid through an opening in the living room wall. Shouldering the backpack as she ran, she slid to a crouch next to the body of the Vermont State Trooper.

"Wake up, goddamnit, wake up!" His familiar brown hair and glasses made her pull back. "Sergeant Summers?" Kathryn clenched her jaw in mixed relief and disappointment. She was so glad someone had come, but wished it were anyone else but him. Sergeant Summers’ dark brown eyes fluttered open and Kathryn pulled at his jacket. "Get up! They’re coming and we have to get out of here!"

"Kathryn? Wh-what are you talking about?" He rubbed the back of his head as he sat up.

The creatures were a short distance away and they didn’t have much time. "We need to get the hell out of here." She pointed and his head swiveled to follow her arm.

"What are those things?"

He hurried to his feet and she rose with him. Together, they ran toward the house, but the shadows preceding their escape told her it was too late. Creatures landed in front of them and trying to stop, Kathryn caught herself with her wrists after her feet slid out from under her. Sergeant Summers dropped to a knee, sliding to a stop as he pulled his gun from its holster.

Shots rang out but the bullets didn’t seem to do anything but anger the bastards. Kathryn looked all around them as the targeted creatures growled their annoyance and approached them. Sergeant Summers’ hands shook and he spun around, firing off a few more shots at the ones behind them. Those growled as well and quickened their pace.

"Stop pissing them off!" Kathryn glared at him, hoping for the words to come to her again. The creatures leapt at them and screams tore from her throat as they fought with each other to get a grip on her. Their talons and teeth sliced her arms and legs in the intervals they weren’t fighting with one another. She kicked and struggled, trying to squeeze through their legs to safety. One of them grabbed her and only then did her damn head clear.

"
F'enk'e'alath shel'an're
!"

Gripping the forearms of the creature that held her, she saw the fire engulfing her hands shoot through the creature’s body, then spread to the surrounding creatures as well. Their inhuman screams ripped through the air and she broke free to crawl to a small space safe from the thrashing bodies. The fire still engulfed her hands and she rubbed them in the sand, trying to douse the flames. Her tears hissed as they landed on her wrists. She moaned, staring at her hands and cringing at the soot of the creatures’ burning bodies clinging to the rest of her skin.

Smoke filled the sky and the occasional popping of the fires replaced the screams and thrashing of the creatures. Sergeant Summers, blood streaming from his forehead and arms, sidestepped toward her while moving his gun from one blackened form to another. She held her burning hands before her in a plea for help. He startled, pointed his gun at her with a shaking hand and pulled the trigger.

Fire stabbed through Kathryn’s chest and she fell backward. She cried out and her now-extinguished hands clutched the wound just below her right shoulder. It felt like a bomb went off inside her chest and she felt her right lung begin to squeeze. Her agonizing and short breaths didn’t mask Sergeant Summers’ panicked words.

"Oh my God, Kathryn, I didn’t realize it was you."

He leaned over her, the whites of his eyes a stark contrast to the soot and blood on his face. He pressed his hands against her wound and she tried to sink into the sand to get away from the pain. Looking past him, she saw the swirling smoke clear and the dark forms flying above them. They reminded her of vultures circling their next meal, except these vultures had wingspans the size of a small plane. Sergeant Summers followed her gaze. Panic reflected in his eyes, but he clenched his jaw and stayed with her.

By the agony of her wound and her labored breathing, Kathryn knew she wouldn’t survive. Maybe in the hands of a gifted surgeon, she’d have a chance, but not here. Not now. Ready to see Rachel, she gripped Sergeant Summers’ hands. "Leave me."

"What?" He stopped pressing on her wound momentarily. "No, I can’t leave you here. Not like this." The agony resumed as he made his decision.

Sand crunched with the sound of the new arrival. Kathryn glanced to her right and cried out as a black figure without horns moved toward them. It differed from the other creatures with feathered wings and a slimmer build. Sergeant Summers rose and drew his gun. The soot stirred up from his boots burned her eyes.

The newcomer drew a black sword lined with some type of silver writing that gleamed in the smoky air. Sergeant Summers had trouble keeping his gun from sliding around in his blood-slicked hands as the dark figure approached with incredible speed and used the hilt of the sword to crack him in the head. He sank to the ground with the figure grabbing his arm, easing him into the blackened sand.

Her breath came in short gasps and the fire started to dampen in her chest. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes into her ears.
I’m coming, Rachel. Mom
. The edge of her vision blurred with white framing the dark figure leaning over her. Callouses lined the human hands that settled against her forehead. The pain in her chest returned full-force and she started to struggle.

Someone caressed her mind, calming her flailing. She focused on his male—definitely male—essence and allowed herself to grab onto the thread of hope he dangled her way. The pain subsided and her breathing eased. He tried to withdraw, but she imagined gripping his arm. His surprise then sudden fear caught her off guard and she let go. With the sound of a familiar howl, she closed her eyes and gave into her exhaustion.

Kathryn woke up facing a wall with her left shoulder and hip aching in protest. Rolling over, she sat up to survey her surroundings. Her feet brushed the stone floor as they hung off a high bed. A small nightstand held a flickering candle that threw the shadows of the sleeping form in the next bed against the far wall.

She looked down and pulled the scratchy gray shirt away from her chest. The smooth skin covering her chest showed no sign of the gunshot wound. Drawing a deep breath, she felt no pain. The stench of antiseptic filled the air and she wrinkled her nose at the familiar smell before turning to the occupied bed.

"Sergeant Summers? Is that you?" She whispered

"Yes." He rolled over and inched his way up to a sitting position, holding his head in his hands. Sighing, he looked up at her with hooded eyes in the candlelight, making him look much older than his late twenties. "I’m so sorry." He snorted and ran his hand through his short hair. "And it’s Hal. No point in being formal."

Kathryn didn’t know what she should say to that. She wasn’t about to tell him it was okay and not to worry about it. He should’ve protected her, not been even more scared than she was, but she knew fear could do unexpected things to people. "Where do you think we are?"