The Grave Shadows

20. Fallen

Everett stomped on the brakes while the truck plummeting downhill. A terrifying shriek echoed in his chest. White cloud exploded in his face while metal crunched, glass cracked, and turbulence hurled on full swing. Time slowed down, but the world deteriorated in a time-lapse faith. Everett stuck on the seat, the interior of the car scrunching up around him.

Why won't it stop?

The pain was Cyan. Everett had no control of the bent and contorted danger that was happening. In that split eternity, the truck flipped over and over which branches, stumps, and rocks punching the vehicle. Parts of Cyan flew in front of Everett through the fuming mess. Everything rushed back and forth in that shrinking confinement. Cyan looked unreal. Perhaps, she was David's again. A loud boom cracked in the air, and the truck halted at the bottom of the declivity upside down. The windshield was missing, the passenger door and the one behind it gone.

Where is Cyan? Sharp air escaped Everett's lungs in a whoosh. Foliage swept inside the truck.

"Cyan!" Everett gasped before the deflated airbag, his head numb and his sight blurry. "No, no, no." He wrangled with the seatbelt.

Cyan was unconscious, flopping on the interior roof under the backseat. She had no seatbelt. With his sweaty limbs, Everett crawled to her. He yanked her arms, but she had slept. The truck reeked of gasoline, leather, coolant, and oil while some acidic pain shot Everett's stomach. Fueled by fear, Everett pulled Cyan out of the wreckage and moved away from the risk of fire. Cyan was irresponsive, lifeless, and broken. Some thick crimson fluid covered half of her face, but Everett refused to think that it was blood. Dread crawled from his stomach to his throat. A fresh wound exposed the whiteness of her skull, a stick piercing her shoulder, and pieces of the destruction scratching and cutting into her. Red was everywhere. Her neck twisted in an odd position.

Everett's hands, gory and shaky, slid under Cyan's nape. It became a soft lump. His head went blank. Could Luke fix her? Could David paint another one?

"Cyan!" Everett screamed as tears washed down his face. "No, no!" He howled like an animal, bringing Cyan to his chest. He had killed her. It was over. He was done.

Cyan's body slumped in Everett's quivering embrace. Black Sheep always ruined everything, and now she was gone because of him. The forest got colder, mute, stunned by another one of his savage performances. Everett wrapped Cyan harder, tighter, closer to his soulless heart, wishing the Angel of Death would take him instead. His fingers glided down her closed eyes. He held his breath, hoping to follow her to the underworld, but his body shuddered against his will. A violent cough escaped him, forcing him to live through remorse. At the same moment, Cyan's chest expanded. A soft moan purled from her lips.

"Cyan! Look at me. Everything's going to be okay. I'll get you out of here." Everett laid Cyan on the fall litter and rummaged in his pocket. Standing on his fumbling knees, he lifted the phone above his head to find the signal.

Cyan's watery eyes weakened. "Everett..." Her gape spilled the malevolent fluid.

Blood! All of it was blood.

Groaning, Everett flew at Cyan again. "Help!" he screamed through desperation. His drenched hands trembled. "Help us!"

The forsaking woods laughed. Nobody would hear him. No one could save her.

"Everett..." Cyan pulled the stick out of her shoulder, wailing in pain as she did.

"No!" Everett burst out and pinned a palm on the dangerous wound. A great mistake flickered, and now Cyan would bleed to death.

"Hold me up." Cyan wrinkled out of the jacket, bearing more injuries underneath her torn blue dress. Bruises and cuts covered her arms and chest.

"No! Don't move!" Everett froze. Only the experienced paramedics should touch her. "Stay still. I'll get help."

Adamantly, Cyan sat up and forced Everett back to her. She sagged against his body, wilting in his arms. "Don't let go," she cried. "You don't tell..." The silent trees were louder than her plea.

Everett shook his head, but Cyan fought him, slapping the phone out of his hand. Her breathing became rapid, blood continuing to flow.

"Cyan, I'm not leaving you, but I have to go and get help." Everett eased away from Cyan. If he made it back to the trail and found the phone signal, an air ambulance would be here in no time.

Having one foot in her grave, Cyan squirmed. "No! I beg you." She pulled Everett to her.

"Cyan, it's the only way." Everett blanched. Leave, he said to himself. Losing Cyan was waking up from the dream in which he wanted to be.

"Please, don't tell anyone." Cyan's hands muffled her voice, the moan faint like a breath, her condition pitiful like David's smudged canvases.

Cyan inched away from Everett, crying louder in her own embrace. Feeling hopeless, Everett collapsed on all fours. The girl was scared while he shrank between waiting for her to die and making a run to find help. Moving Cyan might worsen her injury. Leaving her alone, however, was unimaginable. What if the bear came back? What if wild animals snatched her? What if she died when he was away? Everett cowered before the dying girl. Where are you? he thought, and a person in his head was Hector—the only divinity he believed in.

Sobbing, Cyan buried her face between the curls of her arms and knees. "I heal, Everett." She lifted her chin. "I'm a freak." She wiped her forehead to reveal the secret under the torturous flow. The awful wound was gone, the gruesome stab on her shoulder sealed, her arms and chest unscratched.

Everett sank to the ground, his jaw heavy. Reality crumbled worse than his truck. In minutes, Cyan had slaughtered Death. She healed. Her wounds, the scars, and weakness had vanished.

"Cyan..." Everett wormed back to Cyan. When he put a hand on her, she cringed. "You're not..."

"Then explain this." Cyan spread her arms. Though her body was red, her skin was unspoiled. "Because I don't know what it is. People aren't supposed to be like this." Curling into a ball, she wept.

"Healing is good," Everett said. "You can do it better than others—that's all." He brushed her hair back and dried her tears with his bare hands. "I can heal, too, you know. Not this good but... effective. I..." He pulled her into his chest again, running out of words to comfort her. "Oh, Cyan..."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone. No one can know about this, not even my dad."

Although the magic puzzled Everett, he vowed to protect Cyan's secret. She slacked against him. Despite being the helpless one, he squeezed her harder, guarding her with his life. His lips landed unconsciously on her soft hair. The scent of rain rushed in his lungs. As their tears dried, Everett realized one thing—he had been touching Cyan. His curiosity disappeared like her wounds. She was real. She was really real. Now that he was touching her, he knew for sure that it was all real.