The Redlands [FEATURED]

Chapter 6

"What the hell?" he ground out, clenching his teeth.

John awoke in exactly the same position he had been felled, angry and dizzy. He rubbed the back of his head - there was a tender lump and blood coated his fingers. It throbbed furiously, like a bad hangover, so John lay on the moist ground and covered his eyes with an arm. He was in horrendous pain and filled with exhausted apathy. Whoever had struck him was long gone. He didn't care about who hit him, he just wanted the pain to be gone. Only when he was feeling better would he find the bastard and beat them with a sack of bricks.

"Why me?" he whined. How could this night get any worse?

Eventually, John gained the strength of will to sit up. He was covered in dew so he must have been unconscious for a fair while. He rubbed his eyes and swiped at the stubble on his chin. Above him the sky was light and he heard birds cawing, calling out to the sun. He couldn't see the horizon clearly, the grass was taller than him, but he couldn't be far from Raglan. He looked behind him - there was no grey thing! He had escaped it!

Grinning, he spun to walk out of the Redlands and lurched to a spot. Blocking the way was a small child. Her hair was black and cut into a matted, tangled bob. Her ragged, white dress was stained with streaks of red and black. She was tiny, the size of a five-year-old, and stood in a petulant, almost impatient, stance.

John sighed, "What the hell is it now?"

The child said nothing.

"What the fuck are you doing out here, kid? Go home and read Twilight, or something!" At her feet was a stick as thick as his arm and John's tone became accusatory, "Did you hit me with that, bitch?"

Her shoulders began to shake in what he assumed was suppressed laughter. The little fuck was laughing at him! He grabbed her by the upper arm to shake some sense into her, but pushed her away with horror and disgust when he saw her face.

She looked like a normal child - aside from the crazed gleam in her eyes and the large open sore that was her mouth. It was puckered and bleeding; purplish and green with rot. There were no teeth and no tongue, just a hole.

John remembered his mother saying, "When the wind changes, your face will stay like that..."

With a high pitched scream, the demonic child flew at him, emitting a high-pitched note constantly; the same torturous whistle he'd heard before. John, disorientated by the sound, shielded himself unsteadily. She raked her sharp nails down his arms, trying to get to his face.

"Fuck! Get off! What do you want?" John yelled and hissed as she struck his soft, vulnerable stomach.

They were on the ground, rolling and kicking. He'd shove her away and she'd be on him again! And again! And again! He couldn't prepare for her frenzied attack, only barely manage to defend himself. She still landed lightning fast attacks on his arms, chest and stomach, scoring bleeding lines along his flesh. He threw dirt in her face; he yanked at her hair - pulling some of the oily strands out - and slapped her face with all his strength.

She continued to make the noise, a noise no human could make or sustain. John held her by the shoulders at arm's length, barely able to keep her away from him. She was so strong! She twisted and struggled, biting and clawing at him. The noise made him dizzy, his arms were trembling. She kicked her feet and one hit him hard in the balls. John gasped and his knees began to bend automatically. The child's eyes widened - one of her arms was free, descending towards his face - and she yelled a victorious note.

"Shut the fuck up!" John punched her in the face, his longer arm eclipsing hers, and she flew back several metres.

She moved to her feet so fast that John thought he'd missed the movement as he blinked. Her face was both shocked and enraged. Throwing her head back, she caterwauled shrilly. John stumbled back a few paces and covered his ears, but the sound was silenced with a slap.

The grey thing stood next to the child, looking down on her sullenly. Her head was bowed, her cheek bruised for a moment before the mark faded. It lowered its hand and inhaled for a long moment, then focused its white eyes on John. The lines on its face deepened. It was not happy. Talons of fear gripped his insides.

"Oh, shit...shit, shit, shit!" John hissed under his breath, sweating and shaking.

It lumbered towards him, slowly and purposefully, eyes glistening in the pre-dawn light.

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