Marin's Dale

4

The cars were wrecked in ditches, pulled over, broken down, aflame—scattered about the road like dead cockroaches. But Tyler was focused on something else. The hum of his vehicle's engine reduced to a series of rickety clicks. He pressed his foot to the accelerator.

There was a groan and a hiss, and then the car was stopping. Tyler slammed the wheel.

He was out of the vehicle in an instant, staring at the body, looking for any sign of physical trauma. The engine wasn't smoking, the tires looked fine, the headlights were working—nothing was noticeably wrong. Tyler cursed. Of course. Of course this would happen.

Several feet behind him was the other mouth of the Well. Like its brother on the other side, this gaping hole seemed to open naturally from the rocky outcropping around it. Tyler stared to the road ahead. Light poles buzzed with orange fuzzy glow, like bloated fireflies buoyed by a growing fog. Evergreens loomed over them, crowding, suffocating; a wall of dark, jagged towers sealing in the road.

Tyler could feel the fog against his skin. It reminded him of the summer nights of his youth, when he would run amid the insects, always doing circles in his backyard and always having that wet itchy feel stirring the hairs along his arms. But he did not see the insects now, going harmlessly about their ways. He could not hear or see or sense any life now.

Everything, seemingly, was gone.

Tyler stared once more to the continuing road, a perfectly straight shot into the dark distance. One school bus, overturned in a cleft off the side of the road, roasted like an open fire. It was black, charred, and mutilated—a mangled carcass. Not wanting to look, Tyler peered anyway. He couldn't see bodies. In all the vehicles, there should have been some bodies. But there was nothing inside.

Tyler rubbed his eyes. Yet again, nothing. He was beginning to doubt that anybody was left. It was as if they had all continued on, just like that police officer, despite devastating injuries. But even that police officer had been on the verge of death, had he not? Had he died?

Who had killed him?

Tyler breathed. Whatever was at work here had killed people. But where were the corpses?

Tyler didn't know. Once again, he felt his mind sinking. And it was getting hot again. He was sweating more and more, again. Blankly, Tyler removed his shirt and shorts. He didn't care. There was nobody around anymore. It was as if something had... swooped in. Something had collected all the bodies.

Tyler stared ahead to the road. That's when he noticed the large man with the little girl.

                  ###

Shapes, gray and formless, moved before a backdrop of black. Like amoebas, they slinked along the backdrop of black.

Blackness turned to gray.

When did I lose you

Bright, pearly white bled into the void.

I will never lose you again

There was noise. That penetrating noise. That scratchy, deathly noise—white noise. It was everywhere as it came from nowhere, but somewhere it was there. In the mind, the forefront of the mind. It blinded. It bonded. It was everything true.

Come back to me

There were clothes everywhere. Shirts, blouses, underwear, jeans, coats--everything. All discarded in a large swath that extended for probably 300 feet and was as wide as the road itself. Some were stained with the fluid, others still pristine. 

I understand now. I do, I do

Audrey pulled herself from the hot asphalt. The evergreens, like phantoms, still crowded at every angle. The road still continued on, straight, into the black distance. The streetlamps dotted that distance like miniature pumpkins.

I want to see you

Audrey removed her clothing from her thin frame. It was blotched with sweat at spots, and as she pulled the blouse and pants free of her bones, the lesions on her ribcage became visible. She stared at them a moment, as they breathed, like the stirring of a fetus. Change was coming.

                     ###

Paul had his little girl in his hand. She was a beautiful little girl, with eggshell eyes. Her skin had been smooth like avocado.

But there was a problem now, because somebody ahead was giving Paul's little girl a strong glare. It was hazy in the distance from curls of flame, but this one was a boy Paul could see. He was a teenage boy—high school senior or junior perhaps. He was a kid with problems, just by his seedy eyes it was obvious. He was hiding something at all times Paul knew; this boy could have been Paul, all those years ago.

He will never be you

Paul was right. This kid was threatening the only thing Paul could control right now: the tiny shoulders beneath his fingers. He couldn't allow an outsider to infiltrate his little girl. This kid, this teen, was nothing. He deserved to stay that way.

Put him to rest

This would be Paul's first. At one point, he might have even vowed to never do such a thing. But Paul would try anything once. The kid was a threat to her, Paul knew. To his pookie. He had already lost his little girl to the world. He would not lose this one.

Paul moved closer to the intruder, guiding pookie with his big mitten hands. He was tired, and they were both down to their undergarments because it was getting hot and pookie hadn't protested it before. Paul knew that the intruder was going to do something rash because teenagers were inherently impulsive.

Paul could not foresee all the possible modes of attack, but he was not afraid of a pipsqueak, and he would enjoy very much so beating said intruder to a waterfall of blood.

A waterfall of blood

Yes it is, thought Paul. I do believe it very much so is