Major Charles O'Neil was okay, to set the record straight. Minus one eye, of course, but fine nonetheless. (Jesse did the best he could in fixing it with the supplies he had and told Charlie to wear an eye patch—?—to keep foreign objects or any type of infection out. Charlie didn't seem too distraught about the diagnosis.) It was the rest of us that seemed to be shaken with the previous night's—or rather this morning's—occurrence. Well, to be more accurate, it was I who was totally freaked out. The man had just lost his EYE! I seemed like the only one who took the severity of the situation seriously. Sure, maybe there was a little more precaution than before. I mean, each of the guys had their specific weapons prepped and ready at their sides as we continued to aimlessly trek through the jungle; an activity, I was beginning to believe, that would become routine soon enough.
The thing that bothered me the most was that everyone was hesitant to believe the description of the creature I had given, even Charlie, and he was attacked by the thing! It wasn't that they flat out didn't believe me, it was more of a huge skepticism issue. And when you're forced to describe a creature straight out of Michael Crichton's (or Steven Spielberg's) Jurassic Park or something, then there's the inevitable fact that there's going to be some skepticism, but from some of my best friends?
My husband believed me. He may not have been the most loyal partner in the sense of, you know, choosing me over the guys, but I knew I had his trust. It was one of the reasons we worked so well together. Our relationship was based on trust, something that was sorely missed between Paul and me. Trust, I mean. Then again, the scientist within Vince couldn't help but question.
Paul disbelieved me flat out. To quote: "Are you plastered?" Which hinted that I was both unable to hold my liquor, and that I was a liar. I am so sure.
Jesse was the only one out of the entire group who actually believed me. He explained that it wasn't impossible that we had come across an unknown species seeing as how scientists had only discovered three percent of the Amazonian species or whatever. I didn't have to understand his babble to realize that I had at least one ally in this troop of axis.
And it wasn't as if they could conduct any tests on the creature either because it had disintegrated. Yeah, that's right. It had vanished, disappeared, poof. The thing just dissolved right back into the ground like the vamps on Buffy, only less dusty. Sorry, America of the South, but if I ever get out of this God forsaken jungle; I will so never be back. Not even to visit Brazil.
We had come to a narrow, but wide enough, pathway and decided to walk down it. Strange though it was that there appeared to be no trees on the path, it was even stranger that the path was well shaded, save for a few slivers of intense light strands. The shade was a welcome change from the bright light we had been traveling in mostly. I wiped the sweat from the nape of my neck. How did the Equatorians (i.e. people who live on and/or by the equator) stand it? It was so damn hot! Plus, I needed a well-deserved bath. I had to resort to putting my hair up into a ponytail. Not that it was grease mania or whatever, but you know. I was basically jungle chic.
Well, from the neck up anyway. I don't really think you can consider Sauconys, a white tank-top, and a pair of Vince's black running shorts that had become too small for him, chic. I mean, the shorts were baggy, and they were about a quarter below my knee. That's not chic. That just means you were too lazy to pack a decent pair of shorts along for the ride. It's like ugly chic.
"We gotta stop soon," Maverick panted, his thin, pasty frame almost disappearing in his jungle get up which consisted of a safari hat, some khaki, canvas clothes, and tons of sunscreen. The poor guy appeared to have that type of skin that burned to a crisp the minute the sun touched it. He also appeared to be as exhausted as the rest of us were, possibly more so. "We have been walking since the sun rose."
Paul took a swig from his canteen and squinted as the sun hit his eyes since he didn't have his sunglasses on. "I have to agree with Maverick on this one," he breathed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He, too, was wearing a bandana on his head, only, his was red, and he was also wearing a white undershirt (I can't call them wife-beaters. Then we wonder why domestic violence is such an issue in our country.), a pair of slacks that he'd ripped and turned into shorts, and L.L. Bean boots.
A squad of Navy S.E.A.L.S. couldn't get me to admit out loud that he wasn't exactly an eyesore at the moment in his glistening glory.
See, I couldn't even believe my subconscious thought that. It was the heat talking, I swear to you. I was only looking. I would never touch. At least not while I had my dark, brooding Texan all to myself. Scratch that. I would never touch again.
"It's smoldering, there hasn't been a water source in miles, and my canteen's almost empty. We should take five," Paul advised, pausing to take a quick break.
"We'll take a break," Charlie explained harshly, keeping the pace, "when I say we do. We need to get to higher ground, so we can once again set up camp before dark. The faster you start comprehending the routine, the faster you'll stop being a pain in my ass."
Paul glared at the Major before begrudgingly continuing, and even though I felt exhausted, despite the fact that I have fully kept up with my kickboxing routine, I couldn't help but smile in juvenile contempt. Paul had met his match, and there was no sweet talking or brownnosing this time.
The jungle, though scary and intimidating at night, was down right beautiful in the daylight. It's totally everything that those National Geographic books show you, what with the bright colors and the beyond belief organisms. I just wished the book would have stressed more that the humidity was nearly unbearable. It was worse than Texas by far, and Texas fully supports the death penalty.
"A water source should not be far off," Jesse explained. He was busy cutting branches out of the way with his machete. It probably wasn't necessary, but I'm pretty certain he wasn't doing it out of any need to clear our path. It was just something he had to do. Like when there's a door that has to be pushed to be opened, you don't have to kick it open, but you do it anyway because it makes you feel more intense, and quite possibly like an older version of Buffy.
Or perhaps, more accurately, like a very sad, thirty-six year old that has never matured all the way. Yeah, more like that.
"The air is much more humid than it was a ways back, so water must be near by. That reminds me—" Jesse added, his face glistening from perspiration. "—how is your eye, Major?" Realizing his remark might be taken offensively, he added, "Or lack thereof?"
He cringed seeing that he hadn't redeemed himself, but Charlie didn't seem offended at all. Probably because he didn't hear the last remark. "The pain is gone," the Major confessed, giving a grateful nod to Jesse, "but it itches something fierce. Are you even allowed to scratch a damned eye socket? Or will I screw something up in there?"
"J-Just let it alone for now," the doctor advised assuredly. "If it itches again, gently rubbing it should not damage anything."
We walked in silence for a few minutes before Tripod—ugh, no!—Jack interrupted. He gestured towards the path before us. "Is it supposed to be like this?" he wanted to know, referring to the lack of trees in our path. Even though it seemed like a stupid question, I was curious too. Seriously, everywhere else had been covered up in trees except for this area.
Jesse shrugged. I was beginning to recollect that his area of biological interest was botany since this was the second time he had lended information about plants. "It's not all that uncommon," he explained. "Many acres of land here have been destroyed so grazing land for cattle can be created. It's a bit redundant since the cows end up being slaughtered for McDonald's anyway." He paused and looked around thoughtfully. "But I would guess that the lack of trees here can be contributed to barren soil. As you can see, there isn't much light in the area either."
"Yeah, but if that's the case," Jack persisted, "then why—"
A hand shot out of the ground.
It wasn't a normal hand. For one, it appeared to be that of a child's—a dead child's—because, two, the hand had no flesh on it. And there wasn't just a hand. There was also a body connected to it that was desperately trying to follow the hand's lead by attempting to come up from underneath the ground. Did I mention this . . . thing was pretty much decomposed save for what appeared to be rusted armor and a sword of all things?
I stopped in my tracks immediately, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me and out of sheer terror if the eyes weren't joking at all. Some of the thing's friends were joining him as well because I saw three more hands shoot up. I had a feeling that this was going to get exponentially worse the longer we waited.
Only, Charlie didn't stop walking.
At first I thought maybe, alongside his hearing, his eyesight was going too. He had lost an eye after all. But then I noticed Maverick kept walking.
So did Vince.
So did Jesse.
Was I going psycho? What was happening? Thinking back, I should have known. I so should have known.
I didn't even pause to think. I just blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Charlie, STOP!" I cried, my arm stretched out as if I could pull him back or something. I didn't know what those things were, but I had a feeling that they weren't going to be greeting us with handshakes and snicker doodles, which, despite the situation, I could so go for by the way.
It was then that everyone stopped to look at me. Mainly because I was shouting like a crazy person, but whatever. One of the creatures had nearly gotten himself free. We needed to get out of there now.
"Suze, what's up?" Vince asked curiously. I noticed he didn't make an effort to speed up speech, or even walk away from the havoc I knew was about to ensue. "Do you see something?"
"Yes!" I blurted, unable to keep my composure any longer. "It's right in front of you!"
The four guys spun around wildly, only to spin right back, each man's expression more perplexed than the one before him. They looked around once more; satisfied nothing had been unnoticed, and stared back at me.
"Suzie," Charlie said, speaking more harshly than usual, "now isn't the time to be playing practical jokes."
I opened my mouth to say something more, but stopped when I saw that the first creature had successfully broken free from the ground. I was so shocked, that I took a step back, but not for the reason you would think. I was shocked because the creature was actually some sort of human, or more accurately, decomposing skeleton soldiers of some kind. At that moment of realization, I looked to my side and realized that two other people hadn't moved from their spots either. And when I looked Paul in the eye, looking and pleading for assurance that I wasn't psycho, that's exactly what I got.
Because he could see them too.
There wasn't time to have a celebration of non-psychosis because the first guy that was now out of the ground lunged for Vince.
"Lucky," Paul cried, his expression both worried for his friend and engrossed in whatever it was he was about to do, "DUCK!"
Without question, Vince ducked, covering the top of his head with his arms. Paul cocked his weapon and fed a stream of bullets into the creature, causing him to explode into dust, very The Mummy-like.
"RUN," Jack commanded. Seeing at once that we were being very serious, the guys brought their weapons out and did as they were told. Although, without knowing where to run, they were already dead anyway.
"Jack," Paul ordered, as he loaded another cartridge into his gun. He had managed to obliterate another creature, but just before we could cheer in victory, more hands shot out of the ground, alerting us that we needed to get the hell out of there. "Go with Mav and Lucky. Don't turn back, just keep running. Suze'll go with Charlie, and I'll go with de Silva," he continued, giving us the go ahead. "We need to split up both our abilities to see these guys, and our groups." I guess my expression wasn't very reassuring because he added, "Don't worry, Suze, we'll meet back up, I promise. Now move out!"
None of us thought twice. As fast as we were able, we ran to catch up with the others. Jack, since he had more training, caught up first and called to his assigned group to follow him. Paul and I were a hair behind, adrenaline surging through our bodies.
Paul had managed to get to Jesse just as my foot caught on something, and, instead of tripping like I thought I would, I fell through the ground. Had I not grabbed the ledge when I did, I'd have fallen God knows how many feet. I only glanced down once, but that was all I needed to have the message permanently imprinted on my skull. The bottom was entirely black. Pitch black. I had a feeling that one slip of the hand, and adios critically acclaimed fashion designer Susannah Simon. See you . . . never again.
With a burst of strength, I had managed to support myself on one forearm before bringing my other forearm up and over the ledge. The good news was that none of the creatures had noticed me lagging behind. The other, even greater news was that for some reason, Vince was still standing in my view along with Jesse. If only I could . . .
"Vince!" I cried, outstretching my arm once more, hoping to catch his attention. "Help!"
Our eyes locked for a minute. That's all, I swear. And I knew that he saw the dangerous situation I was in. I knew it because he had made a movement towards me. A movement that indicated he was coming to my rescue. However, as he was in the process of coming towards me, Jesse cried out for help. Right on time, he hesitated before instantly firing his firearm in Jesse's direction and running away from the group of creatures that had begun chasing after him.
"VINCE!"
My heart seemed to shatter into a billion pieces. My stomach fell to my feet, and I couldn't do anything with my mouth except open and close it, uttering incoherent sounds. I could feel a tear glide down my cheek before it dropped soundlessly into the abyss below.
So that's what it boiled down to? He hadn't meant any of the things he said last night; he hadn't meant any of the promises he made either! He took advantage of me; of our trust! Our marriage was a sham, and I . . . I was a fool for thinking otherwise.
"Bastard," I breathed, tears streaming from both eyes now as I fought to hold onto the ledge. I had seen many a wounded soul let go of life for even smaller reasons than an asshole of a partner. My mom, for instance, had wanted to do it after my dad had been declared dead. Kill herself, I mean. She had never voiced it, but I knew the thought had crossed her mind once or twice. She had figured there was nothing else to live for. But then she remembered me, her daughter, and she held on. She was a Simon, well, technically, an Alecksovski, but that's beside the point. I was a Simon too, and we were strong people. And I was going to be strong.
Clearly, it was not meant to be because as soon as I attempted to get out, something, or someone, began tugging on both of my legs. Rather harshly, I might add. I looked down and saw to my terror that there were about thirty of those creatures in the pit, trying to pull me down into the depths with them.
"Oh, my God," I said aloud, trying to pull myself up. I didn't even want to know what would happen if they pulled me down. "Help!" I called out again, barely able to hold on any longer.
My fears were brought to life when one of the creatures loomed overhead, his decayed mouth leering at me as if he was planning how exactly he was going to kill me. The two empty voids in the place where his eyes used to be seemed like they were trying to rip my soul from my body in one swift motion. His disturbing smile finally opened, allowing view of his grotesque, gaping mouth, and it was then that these razor sharp teeth just grew in their respected spots. Seriously. I wish I was making this stuff up. But this was all happening.
The creature, mouth gaping, let loose an ear curdling shriek. He raised his rusted, iron dagger into a ready position and spoke some foreign gibberish to his friends below. In understanding, they began chattering excitedly and laughing at what was certain to be my demise. I was so scared senseless, nothing would exit my mouth. I couldn't cry for help.
The creature lunged. "EEEAAACCKK! Mantança ela, minions!" (TG/N: Sorry about the poor translation. The internet is so unreliable these days.)
BAM.
My eyes had been shut, but there was no mistaking the sound of a gun being fired, if that makes any sense. But it hadn't been the chink, chink, chink of a machine gun. It had been the powerful blast of either a shotgun or a sidearm.
Had Vince come back?
"A little old to be playing hide and seek, wouldn't you say?" came the voice of my mortal savior.
"A little morbid to be patronizing me before I reach my untimely death, wouldn't you say?" I retorted angrily, though, in actuality, I was scared that I wouldn't get out of the pit at all. It wasn't necessary to look up because I could pick that voice out of a crowd any day. There was a severe lack of accent in the voice, unfortunately.
"Suze, you've got to stop being so immuh—Whoa!" Another of the creatures had lunged at Paul. In one swift motion, for a scientist anyway, he whipped his sidearm out again and fired, causing the thing to explode into a cloud of dust. "Here, grab my hand," he said more urgently, offering said hand. "I've got you. Trust me."
Should I have trusted Paul? Probably not, but did it look like I had any other choice? Besides, if I hadn't accepted his hand, I had a feeling I would never have lived to see tomorrow.
So I grabbed his hand.
With what seemed like relative ease, I was lifted from that pit of death after what felt like an eternity. He grasped my shoulders, steadied me, and then began fussing over me by checking to see there was no serious damage. Satisfied, he removed his probing fingers from my face and rested his hand on my other shoulder. I looked up slowly and realized that Paul had been staring at me with an intense glimmer in his eyes. For some reason, I couldn't seem to tear my gaze away, and Paul certainly didn't seem too eager to interrupt whatever was going on between us. Something about his baby blues seemed to have a captivating magnetism over me, not allowing me to look away.
I swear had we been there mere seconds more, Paul would have said something. He had even parted his lips, preparing to say something detrimental to both our well-beings. But before either of us could say anything, one of the creatures from the pit climbed out, ready to pounce at any moment. Without even having a say in the matter, Paul shielded me with himself, and fired at the thing. This time, we weren't that lucky. The bullet only managed to clip the creature's leg, causing him to stall only momentarily.
Paul, having realized this, made a jump start and grabbed my arm, forcing me to follow him. "Time to go," he said, handing me his sidearm. I guess he figured I wouldn't have had the one on me that Charlie had issued to me originally. He was dead wrong, but I took the gun anyway. It wasn't as if I was going to use it.
"Do you have any idea where we're going?" I asked frantically as my heart pounded in my throat. I've done strenuous workouts before, but my heart had never felt like it was at the point of destruction. I don't think I had ever run that hard in my entire life. Then again, I had never exactly had to run for my life from a tribe of cannibalistic, soldier zombies.
Paul, who hadn't missed a beat, continued running and dodging obstacles with a cat-like grace. I followed blindly, not dodging things quite so well and receiving the full blow of the obstacle because Paul had a grasp on my arm, not allowing me to fall behind. "Uh, not really," was his delayed response. He spun around and his eyes widened. "Shit!" He pulled out his machine gun and unleashed a couple hundred bullets worth, destroying the creature that had been only mere feet from where we were.
After the dust had settled, I nursed my elbow which had been injured thanks to Paul's little throw me to the ground scheme. "Ow," I moaned, glaring up at Paul. "What the hell was that for?"
Paul looked down at me and offered his hand to me anxiously. "I just saved your life. The least you could do is thank me for once."
"No way. I am in no position to keep traveling."
"Suze, stop being a baby, get up off that attractive ass, and let's go," he urged. "There's no telling when those creeps'll pop up again."
"Paul," I emphasized, "I am not leaving this spot. Just leave me here to die. Life's not worth living anyway—did you just . . . did you just compliment my—?"
"That," Paul replied, unable to hide his infectious smile, "is beside the point. Did you just ask me to leave you here to die? I risked my neck, twice now, to keep that ass alive. I'll do no such thing."
Ignoring his observation, I remarked smartly, "You miss it, don't you? My ass I mean, in all its crowning glory?"
Paul's responding smile was interrupted by that same screech that had been heard earlier. The one that usually foreshadowed the appearance of the creepy soldier things.
"If you won't move, then I'll make you move," Paul threatened before promptly throwing me over his shoulders, and running, as if we hadn't stopped moving at all, or as if he hadn't just picked me, age thirty-six, fully capable of handling herself, up against my will. I didn't bother saying anything, mainly because I had been quite the annoyance. Well, that wasn't entirely true, seeing as how I was the greatest asset to this whole party. I was just being an difficult with the whole "Uhh, just leave me here to die" attitude.
By thirty-six, I had succeeded in following my vow of never again acting as childish as I had twenty years ago. So much drama had followed back in those days, and it was just something I hadn't wanted to repeat itself. And there I was, screwing it up already. Just because Vince had, essentially, divorced me didn't mean I could act like a complete baby. Where had that concrete exterior of mine gone that saved me during the period of my life when my dad was gone?
"Paul, one of those—things is behind us!" I informed my form of transportation. "What should we do?"
"You've got a gun. Shoot it!" he spat, not stopping at all. No matter how fast he ran, the creature continued to gain on us, its legs taking gargantuan leaps; its eye sockets sucking the life from within. I could even feel Paul slowing down some.
"Paul," I questioned, "why are you slowing down?"
"I don't," he stuttered, bewilderment laced through his tone, "I don't know. It's like I can't—like I can't move."
EEEEAAAAAA!
I screamed, scared out of my mind as the thing lunged. I jammed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger, preparing for the best. I could almost feel the touch of dust spray my face lightly.
Click.
I pulled the trigger again.
Click.
. . . SO not good.
"We—are—in—serious—trouble," I muttered, mostly to myself because if Paul knew we were out of ammunition while a creature was in mid attack, I had a feeling he wouldn't handle it so well. Hell, I knew I wasn't handling it so well. Even worse, thanks to Paul having thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of chicken feed, I couldn't manage to reach my own sidearm I was issued because it was in one of the back pockets of my shorts.
"Ohmygod, Paul, RUN FASTER!" I cried helplessly as I could only stare from my awkward position at the creature gaining on us.
"Suze," Paul panted, using that tone of voice cops use when they're talking to the crazies. You know the type, slow and very articulate so as to get the point across faster, "we've been over this before. I am pushing as hard as I can just to keep this pace up. Something is keeping me from moving. Use the—"
Paul's lecture was interrupted by my anguished cry. The creature had attempted to destroy Paul, but had missed, and instead, ended up scratching pretty deeply through my back. The feeling of its razor sharp claws still seemed to linger, and I tried to suppress the tears that tried to force their way through. I could taste the blood in my mouth from where I had bitten my lip in the attempt to keep quiet. The pain, mixed with my emotional drought, was almost unbearable. I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't want to do this anymore.
"SUZE!" Paul cried. I could tell he was going to put me down to make an analysis of the damage. However, before he could do so, there was a strong impact, and I found myself face down on the ground with something extremely heavy on top of me. I grunted in pain. My back was killing me.
"Jesse?" I heard Paul say. "What are you doing here? Where's Lucky? Where's Jack? Charlie? Maverick?"
The weight from my body was slowly removed, and with my new found ability to move, I looked around. Apparently Jesse and Paul had bumped into each other at the intersection of the two different paths they had exited. I turned over wanting to get a better grasp on my surroundings; however, I had forgotten about my back and almost instantly regretted the move when pain surged through my back.
Never had I been happier at the sight of Jesse in my entire life. He never had the chance to reply to Paul's inquiries, or, if he did, I didn't hear him because another creature's cry was heard.
"I'll explain on the way, amigos," Jesse said eagerly, offering an assisting hand which I took gratefully. "Come now. We must leave this place."
Sure enough the sound of rustling tree leaves and hissing could be heard getting louder and louder. We began running as fast as possible down the lone, cleared path before us. Despite the fact that we were being chased by homicidal creatures of the underworld, the running took the pain from my back and emotions and forced it into my legs which were burning due to the excess movement.
"So where is everybody, de Silva?" Paul asked again, narrowly dodging an uprooted tree root.
"We were split up about thirty minutes before I bumped into you," Jesse explained, holding a branch back for me. "Jack and Maverick headed off in one direction; Vince and Charlie in another."
"Vince and Charlie?" I asked incredulously, taking a moment to look behind me. "By themselves? But they'll die without being able to see these things!"
Before Paul could utter a "Relax, Suze," I noticed a huge group of creatures had pretty much caught up to us at this point. Plus, Jesse had spoken.
"That brings me to my next point: what exactly are we running from?" he asked.
Before answering him, I swirled around, grabbed my extra gun, jammed my eyes shut, and pulled the trigger, hoping for the best. When I opened my eyes, I detected the faintest trace of dust, and saw that two soldier creatures had been done away with. Despite myself, I couldn't help but smile. Nice shooting, Tex.
"See?" Jesse yelled as I stashed my gun back in its place. "What in hell was that? Who—what was she shooting at?"
Paul was just about ready to explain what was going on (at least, what we knew thus far which was basically nothing) when his eyes widened in horror. I followed his gaze and realized just what kind of trouble we were in. Behind us, a handful of creatures were catching up to us while dozens of their associates were jumping out of trees lining the barren path to join the attack. The only good thing that came from the realization was that the pain in my back and legs had been momentarily forgotten.
"No time to explain, buddy," Paul said, picking up speed. "We need to motor."
And motor we did. The three of us ran as fast as humanly possible, conserving as much ammunition as possible. We realized that killing was not an option because these creatures kept coming back, and in greater numbers. Besides, I only had four bullets left, if my calculations were correct, and Paul was on his last cartridge. What we needed was to somehow escape the beings, and since there weren't too many trees around, the task was becoming a little difficult. However, we needed to come up with a back up plan quickly because running for our lives wasn't going to keep us alive much longer. My calves were killing me, my nose was runny, and my heart felt as if it were just going to burst out of my chest at any moment. I didn't know how the others were fairing, but I knew that if I couldn't stop any time soon, I was seriously going to die.
No matter how much zigzagging and dodging we did, there was just no getting away from those things. We had even bigger fish to fry when a fork in the path met our frantic gaze.
"Which way do we go?" Jesse asked. If I wasn't much mistaken, he sounded as tired as I felt.
Paul took a quick glance behind him to evaluate the situation at hand. Without hesitation he replied, "We split up."
"When?" Jesse wanted to know, as did I.
Paul shook his head. "Not yet," he commanded. "Wait until the fork gets closer."
I looked at him like he was crazy, and had I not been so tired, I would have made some smart aleck-y comment. I found it hard to believe that he didn't realize that we were only a couple yards away from the splitting point. Any closer and we would run straight into the tree up ahead. Apparently, however, it didn't matter to Paul because he kept on moving, and like good slaves should, we followed the master.
"How much longer do you plan on waiting?" Jesse voiced as if he had just been reading my mind.
Paul gestured with his hand and said, "Any minute now, just hold on."
Wanting very much to trust Paul, I tried to keep my mouth shut, but failed miserably. "Yeah, but, Paul," I heard myself saying, "we are coming in very close, and if you wait too long, then we're going to end up on that tree, most likely dead."
"Did anyone ever tell you that your pessimistic, Doubting-Thomas outlook on life just adds to your charm?" Paul managed to ask. Apparently all this running hadn't affected his ability to mock. Figures. "Just relax, I've got it all planned."
"Slater—"
"Not yet," he growled, somehow picking up speed. I was about to die, and he was going faster?
The tree was becoming larger with each step. The cries of the creatures behind us were increasing in volume as they relentlessly gained on us. "Paul, please," I begged, "do something."
"Not yet," he stressed, still running as fast as ever. The tree. The creatures. My stammering heartbeat. Everything coming closer and closer and closer and closer and closer—
"PAUL!"
"NOW!"
Without even realizing what I was doing, I jammed my eyes shut and veered to the right, hoping against hope that I hadn't ended up by myself. As life would have it, I had ended up with Paul which meant that Jesse was all by himself. Somehow, this was a worse prospect than me being by myself.
"Paul," I breathed, straining just to keep up, "Jesse's all by himself again. He won't be able to see the creature things."
Paul looked at me, startled, but relieved at the same time. "Don't worry about de Silva," he said, "he can take care of his own skin. Right now, we need to be on the lookout for somewhere to hide. I'm running my balls off, here."
I was too tired to be disgusted. Actually, I was too tired to do much of anything, let alone think. That's why it came as a surprise to me when I felt myself being violently shoved off the main path. At first I thought it was one of the creatures, but then I found myself being crushed beneath Paul. After he had shoved me out of "harm's" way, he decided it would be fitting to just dive out of the way and on top of me. When he landed, I let out a strained, "Oomph!"
The good news was that there wasn't much time to bask in the complete awkwardness of the situation. Almost as soon as we had made contact, Paul was up and off of me. He now had his back flat against this massive stone structure. In one step, he had pulled my arm, causing me to be flush up against the stone structure as well.
"Paul," I wondered aloud, pulling away from the wall, and rubbernecking so I could see what was going on with the main path and the creatures, "what the hell is going on—?"
"Shh!" he hissed, pushing me back up against the wall, only he sort of touched my boobs in the process. I was pretty sure he was aiming for my stomach . . . at least, I hoped so, however, fact of the matter was that he had, um, touched them.
"Paul," I whispered frantically. I felt a bead of sweat slide down my face as I shifted uncomfortably. I mean, it was just resting there on my chest. I think I had a right to be sweating for an entirely different reason.
"Suze," he pleaded quietly, his face still forward, looking out for the creatures, "shut it!"
I bit my lip and glanced at the bizarre scene before me. I had to say something. Before I could, however, an entire hoard of soldier zombie-things came swinging and running down the main path, bypassing us entirely. Hopefully, I prayed, that was how it would stay.
This was how it was for a couple minutes. A huge amount of creatures made their way down the main forest floor while Paul and I hid to the side; his hand on my boobs. Finally, the path had cleared. The only problem was that Paul was still on the look out and he hadn't exactly relinquished his hand's position on me.
"Paul," I tried again.
"Quiet!" he commanded, still keeping a watchful eye.
I sighed. This was just stupid. "Paul," I hissed again, "your hand is on my chest."
This statement triggered a reaction. He whipped his head around lightning fast, and protested, "What?" Then, for whatever reason, he looked down and realized what I was talking about. "Oh God," he uttered, before lifting his hand away as if he had just touched a Bunsen burner. "Sorry. I'm so sorry," he apologized repeatedly.
I ignored him, feeling that it would be better if I didn't make a huge deal of it. Besides, I was pretty sure I had just imagined the ghost of a grin on his face. Silently, I placed a hand over my rapidly beating heart and breathed in and out, trying very much to replenish my air supply. I had a feeling that in a minute's time, the hyperventilating would commence. Paul took a page from my book and closed his eyes as he rested. Somehow, he seemed much less worked up about the situation than I was.
"What were those things, Paul?" I asked, interrupting our serene silence. The question had to be asked. Not even when being a mediator, er, I mean, shifter meant something to me did I ever see freaky shit like that before. I thought I had left all that behind me. In fact, I had been praying that that was the situation.
Paul took the moment to open the eye closest to me and turn his head just the tiniest bit towards my direction. "It had to have been ghosts," he answered, assuring my fears had been realized.
"No," I breathed out quietly, almost to the point of being inaudible. Even though I had my suspicions, somehow hearing it out loud made it so much worse. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. "They can't be ghosts," I declared, as if making a point.
This time Paul took the initiative of opening the other eye as well, and he turned so he was facing me entirely. I paid him the same courtesy. "Think about it. There's no other explanation. The only ones who saw the things were you, Jack, and me. It just seems a little much for coincidence considering we're all mediators or—aw, come on, Suze, I said I was sorry," Paul apologized once more, mistaking my tears for something else entirely.
Yeah, you read that correctly. Tears. I, Susannah Simon, world renowned fashion icon and all time bad-ass, was crying. One minute I was perfectly dry, and the next, the water works kicked in. I am so not even kidding. It was the most embarrassing thing ever, especially considering the one witness to the whole situation was Paul.
"No," I managed to say, swiping at the tears sliding down my cheeks, "it's not that. It's just—"
And then I launched into this major babble session about how I hadn't seen a ghost in approximately twenty years, and how this wasn't supposed to be happening. I continued by adding what Vince had done to me hours earlier, and how me playing second fiddle gave me insecurities about the foundation of our marriage. Was it a sham? Was I being too hard on him about the whole thing? My job was brought up too, and the stress that came along with it in the form of worrying if I'd get the spring sketches in on time, and whether or not Gisele Bündchen would renew her contract with us. All the while, my nose was so mucus filled, and my voice got all nasally while my eyes got all sore from all the crying I had done. As if that weren't bad enough, I then got into the subject of my father.
"—probably sounds heartless, but I'm not even sure I want to rescue my father. He was almost never there for me, and for that I despise him, and I'm conflicted because when I really think about it, I don't think I hate him as much as I want to which gets me even angrier because I want to hate him, but none of this even really matters because we can't do anything since we have no idea where the rest of our group is as well as where Dad could possibly be, and even though the thought of Vince makes me so mad, I can't help hoping that he's not dead and with the other guys—"
Finally, I was interrupted by a sharp sting to the face. Paul grasped my shoulders and said as loudly as he could in the conditions we were in, "Sorry, but, Suze! Get a grip on yourself!"
I reached a hand up to touch my cheek before I began pummeling him. "Stop...slapping...me...as...a...revival...technique!" I demanded in between each slap. For his part, Paul held his arms above his head as a makeshift shield, and no joke, I'm pretty sure he was yelping in genuine pain. Then the weirdest thing happened. I found myself smiling so widely it hurt, and then I was off in hysterics. Really, all I could do was laugh. I had been so sappy, plus, I would bet my life that Paul hadn't understood one word that came out of my mouth. I don't even think I understood anything that had exited my mouth. After Paul had cracked a smile, I stopped hitting him, and a good two minutes had passed, I breathed out calmly, letting my laughter subside into silence.
Paul ripped the bandana off of his head, an amused expression on his face, and used it to gently dab the tears away from under my eyes. "You need a vacation, Simon," he said, only half-joking. "You're a total whack-job."
I punched him in the arm. "Shut up."
"Ow," Paul moaned, massaging his upper arm and standing all at the same time. He held out his hand. "You know, you're just lucky you have a good friend like me"
I snorted, but took his proffered hand anyway. "Friend?" I asked. "No, Paul. You and I?" I shook my head. "We'll never be friends."
Paul's smirk slowly faded and was replaced with an expression of neutrality. His gaze drifted to the ground and stayed there for a good couple of minutes before lifting up once more. Only this time, after perusing the area around us, his expression changed from one of neutrality to bemusement.
I frowned and turned around, trying to focus on whatever had gotten Paul in a mood. "What?" I finally pondered, having unsuccessfully searched.
Instead of speaking, he shook his finger at something in the distance. "I've seen that somewhere before," he stated before promptly getting up and walking towards the heart of the forest. I tried to follow his direction, but still didn't see what he was talking about. Not wanting to miss out, I scrambled to my feet and followed him.
"You've seen what?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"That," Paul proclaimed.
I followed his finger and finally witnessed what Paul was talking about. On the tree before us was some sort of symbol painted in what appeared to be dried blood. The symbol looked like squiggly circle divided into four parts. In the upper left hand corner were a less than sign and a greater than sign next to each other, points touching. Above and below the signs were thin lines no longer than the two signs in length. In the bottom left hand corner was a very poorly drawn lion, almost like that of Rafiki's in The Lion King. The bottom right hand corner had a palm print, and the upper right hand corner had a squiggly circle with a less than sign on it. I stared at it puzzled. Where Paul had seen this before, I had no freakin' clue.
Suddenly, I saw Paul's eyes light up. "Suze," he called out, "give me the note from Pete."
"What?" I asked, not expecting the question at all. "Why?"
Paul grunted and then held his hand out. "Just give it to me, damn it."
I fished the note out of my back pocket and pulled it out. "Since you asked soooo nicely."
He rolled his eyes and snatched the paper from my fingers. He looked from the paper to the tree, to the paper once more. After a final look, a smile spread a cross his face. One that was really hard to miss.
"What?" I asked again. This seemed to be the question of the day. I couldn't seem to stop uttering it.
"Take a look," Paul said, motioning me over with his hand. I walked to where he was standing. "See the pictures on this slip of paper?"
I nodded, briefly recalling when I noticed it back in the hospital. I still didn't see what he was getting at. "So?" I felt the need to remark.
He pointed a long finger at the tree in front of us. "Now look at the tree."
I did as I was told, and nearly fainted on the spot. What it meant, I had no idea, but it wasn't hard to put two and two together. It had to mean something.
Because was it really a coincidence that both the note and the tree had the exact same symbol on them?
God, I hoped not.
YESSSSSSS! That's how I feel right now getting this up. I have been wanting to update this story since forever, and now it has finally happened. I feel like stripping down and running about in excitement . . . but I won't because I can handle myself. If you have the time, pop on over and read The Shifter: Shadowland, also written by yours truly.
I really hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do. Remember, reviews are rad, and also, alliteration is awesome.
The General
PostScript: I apologize for all the grammar errors. I was just so psyched to get this beast up and running.
