And then, just like that, it was gone. The immense pressure on my shoulders released and I can breath again.
I can almost convince myself that it was a dream, until my hair snags on a bush as I sit up, the small pain the catalyst for the aching heart I've just acquired.
But then I soar when I hear voices, desperate, shouting voices:
"Alice?!"
"Jasper!"
"Edward!"
"Emmett?"
"Rose!"
"Is everybody alright?"
A pause.
"I'm good. But what's this beetle thing?"
"That's a firefly."
"…oh. How bout everybody else?"
"Fine!"
"Kind of glad we can't get bruises."
"Well, I'm kind of confused. Did something scare them away?"
"Not that I saw."
"Wait, what about the humans?"
"Oh, right. Uh, Ms. Regence?"
There's complete silence. Wait, that's me.
"I'm fine. I am, however, caught on a bush which is proving massively uncomfortable."
I hear the soft rustle of footsteps grow closer, and The Hulk – sorry, Emmett – leans down before me with a huge grin plastered on his face to help me up.
"Er, Emmett."
"Yep?"
"You've got…" I move my hand to my own neck to signify where his marks are.
"I've got what?"
"Uh…"
"What?"
"You've got…holes…in your neck." I make little circles with my index finger on my neck, just in case he doesn't get it.
"I do? Shit. It's gonna be hard to explain that to Esme." He pouts, fingering the large apertures spaced evenly right next to his Adam's apple.
"I don't suppose you'll just let me drain the dead bear so I don't have to go hunting like this?"
Dead bear?
"What?"
He frowns at me, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah. Your boyfriend and I pushed it into a really big puddle and then it stopped moving. Right before the rest of them left."
"Show me." I demand, trying to stare him down unsuccessfully.
So he smiles like he's done extra credit and now he'll get that A plus he'd been hoping for yay wa-hoo and leads me to the carcass of one of the beasts.
The relentless rain somehow makes this surprisingly hopeful situation more lugubrious than it would be usually, washing the blood off my face and blotting my clothing.
I notice absently that I'm somehow now wearing jeans and a t shirt, as opposed to my previous outfit. I wonder if that was his doing.
The creature is lying, motionless, in a small pool of water on its side, trunk-like legs spread before it. Its eyes are not closed, as I had been hoping – because, despite what movies might want to tell you, nothing can die completely gracefully. What frightens me most, however…
It's eyes are exactly the same. That glazed over, reflective shine, it hasn't changed in the least. It's impossible not to imagine it suddenly snapping out of its torpor and rising to charge at me again with a terrible cry and a bloodthirsty grin.
And I wonder to myself: does it look alive now, or did it look dead before?
"Are you sure…?"
"There's no heartbeat."
"There wouldn't be anyways." A few of the others emerge from the trees, slowly drawn to the motionless beast like moths to a flame, until all of the Cullens are watching it.
"It's dead, Cora. Believe me. It's dead." Edward says quietly, eyes never leaving the carcass.
"Oh," I breath.
Timidly, expecting it to rise up at any second, I approach the animal. One foot in the water. Two.
I wade towards where it lies, in water three or four inches deep, not caring about the water filling my sneakers or soaking my socks. I kneel down beside it, my jeans turning shades darker from the tannin-stained water.
The beast doesn't move. Cautiously, I extend my hand, hovering over it. This is the bit in movies where it comes to life and devours me before the eyes of everyone else.
It does nothing. I place my hand on its head, drawing my thumb down the fur. Strangely, it reminds me of the stuffed animal I had when I was a kid (I named it Bunny when I was four, and by the time I realized that was dumb, changing it would have just confused him.). That not-quite-real feel, like plastic.
Curiously, and assured that it is now dead, I run my hand down its side, surprised to feel it consistently smooth and free of any lumps. I don't feel the rib cage, a muscle, nothing. The thing is pure, uninterrupted beast, through and through.
But it's more than that – does that make any sense to you? It's got an eerie, inhuman beauty, an unnatural attractiveness not of this world, a deadly grace. A small part of me feels some remorse for the creature. It doesn't seem quite like its own choices led it to this end.
It almost reminds me of when I learned about the Holocaust in grade school. I kept thinking that there was no way that this mass genocide was simply because these people wanted to kill. That they must have had some better reason, because real, pure evil doesn't exist in the real world. Everybody has a conscience. They couldn't have taken life from so many millions without some deluded reasoning that was right in their eyes. Right? They must have thought that they were helping the world. They must have had some excuse.
But I couldn't come up with a better reason than hate. That's what this feels like, this right here. These things. They must have had a better reason for attacking than simply wanting to.
Animals don't kill for fun. That's a privilege retained only for humans. The 'higher species'.
"Oh bear," I whisper, hoping against hope that no one else hears me, or sees me push down its eyelids. Even monsters deserve sleep. That's what Glen always told me.
"Alice," I hear a tiny splash as she darts over to me.
"Yep?"
"Could you get your father – Carlisle – to look at him? Try and find out the cause of death?"
"Oo-kay." Reluctantly, I raise myself from the puddle, all kinds of dripping wet.
I see all of them staring at me with this dazed kind of look, like I'm made of glass.
"Sorry, guys. First near death experience. I'm told it gets better." I smile weakly, limping slightly towards the safety of the trees.
Silence behind me for a minute, and I'm almost afraid that they're all going to rush after me and ask if I'm okay. I don't know if I'm okay. And none of them could help, anyway.
"Max…?" I call quietly, shuffling my quiet and squelchy way towards where I saw him last. What if that was the last time I'll ever see him?
No. I can't think like that.
I hear no response.
"Max!" Maybe he's unconscious. Sometimes people pass out from pain. Happens all the time, really.
"Max." My voice goes completely monotone when I step behind the tree and see nothing there but blood. His blood.
Please don't let him be dead. Oh god, please.
Breathing heavier now, I realize that he might have simply run away. I think I'd know if he were dead, really. I'd just get that gut feeling.
"Glen!
"Glen! I need you! The bears are gone!"
…silence.
No.
No, no, no. I need him right now. I need him even more than I need to know that Max is okay, I need him more than I need to know if those bears are coming back. I need him right now like I need water and food and sleep and books. I need my happy tree man to tell me he knows exactly what happened, and that everything is going to be okay and that we'll find Max, and I need him to hug me to his wooden chest and kiss the top of my head and make me stop crying inside.
But he's not coming.
"Maybe he's chasing some of the bears down. Or helping Max find a safe place." Rosalie appears behind me, places a stony hand on my shoulder.
"Sure, sweetie. You tell yourself that." I hiss-grumble, shrugging my shoulder out of her grasp.
Both of them. Gone. And despite a million possible reasons, I know exactly what happened.
The bears weren't here to kill us. They were here for them. They were here to kidnap Glenwood, maybe even Max.
"They were taken, Rosalie. You know that perfectly well." How could that happen?
An hour and a half ago, I was happy. Ecstatic, really. I'd finally for once in my life accepted the fact that I'd fallen in love, I kept half-squee-ing with joy about things, my next lesson in class was…
Was…
Human-supernatural interaction. I'd thought that it was so fitting at the time. How did my entire world come crashing down so quickly? How did I ever have so much to take away?
That's what my brother always said to me (yeah, bro, you were three years older, clearly that made you so much wiser): the only reason we get good things is so they can be taken away. We're happy because we know it might leave. I'd believed him then. I believe him even more now.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Tragedy is supposed to be spread out, not happen all at once.
But it's not tragedy, not yet. They're both still alive. The forest would mourn if Glen were gone.
"We…" My voice quavers.
"Yes, Ms. Regence?"
"We have to find them. The sooner the better. We have to find them now."
A/N: Uh-oh spaghetti-Os! Now raise your hand if you saw THAT coming. Yes, you can expect quite a lot of these from basically now on. Problem is, I've got a pretty good way of getting them all into jeopardy, but I have yet to figure out how to get out of it. I keep having those problems.