Bridge
The dark swamp billowed around me, each branch seeming to be a hand reaching out to grab me. The dark ground held its own secrets, stones, roots, and all sorts of other anomalies lying in wait, ready to hold me down as bait for the werewolf. Breath streamed from my nostrils, my eyes wide while I tried to make my escape as silently as possible.
I couldn't run with my damn, stupid leg! The sounds of Tommy wrestling with the wolf back at the cabin reached my ears, faint. Should I have left him alone? How was I going to get away if I couldn't even flipping run?!
Stumbling over tree roots, I went as fast as I could, dragging my broken leg behind me and ignoring the pain it delivered. Something told me that being caught by the werewolf would hurt worse than a twinge in one of my limbs.
What did the wolf want with me, after all? I wasn't part of the pack; I couldn't change. All of the thoughts of what he might have in store ripped through my mind, spurring me on faster. If the wolf really could remember everything he did and had tried to change me in his human form, there was no telling what he would do to me if he caught me.
"Always watch your back, Bridge," Mom said. It was almost a weekly conversation at our house, daily even during Mardi Gras. "There are people out there who would hurt you just for the fun of it. Not everyone is as good and sweet as you are."
Stomach turning at her words, I stopped, shoving myself into a small space between two trees. Listening hard, I tried to hear if the fight was still going on behind me, but there was nothing but the wind in the trees.
Please be okay, Tommy. He would be fine, I was sure. Was I? I didn't have time to decide in that moment.
The wolf howled again, closer than it should have been. Panicked, I tripped out into the open space, trying to run faster than before. I couldn't see where I was going, my hair whipping into my face, and I fell completely, sliding through the dirt. Struggling, I got back on my feet and ran more, my chest heaving from effort.
Memories of my first zombie specific class came to mind as I fled, filling me with even more panic.
"You are already dead," the teacher said, not sugar coating it at all. "But that doesn't mean you can't be gotten rid of completely. Protect your body; should anything happen to it that would destroy it, you will be lost as well." If I were to be caught and eaten, I would cease to exist. No more Bridge.
No more Tommy.
The growls of the beast were right behind me now, closing in one heavy footstep at a time. In my mind, I felt his breath on my neck, his teeth reaching out to snap around it. If I could push myself just a little faster . . .
Tripping again, I sprawled across the ground, my head bouncing off a rock, the wind knocked from me. The bone in my leg was sticking out at an odd angle now, pointing up into the sky. Rolling over, I moaned, my vision swimming slightly. There was a puncture from the stone I'd hit, right where the back of my skull met my spine. Feeling it gingerly, I winced, both from the gelatinous feeling of my blood and the headache that was swiftly blackening my vision. The ground was hidden behind the feet of the wolf, stopping as he came upon me at last.
"Oh, shit," I groaned, dropping my head into the dirt and succumbing to the darkness that waited to claim me.
****
My entire body hurt. No, that wasn't as accurate as what I was feeling. My entire body, my spirit, my ancestor's bodies and spirits, and the bodies of anyone I'd ever met all hurt like nobody's business. It was like I had been designated as the person that got to feel everyone's pain and suffering. On top of that, I was blind; the sun was shining right in my eyes, making them water as I furiously tried to blink through the tears.
Working out where I was proved just as difficult as the agony I felt. My hands were tied behind me, stuck to the chair I was sitting in. My feet had both been tied around the legs of the seat as well, one of the ropes digging into my already mangled flesh and pressing against the broken bone.
"Good morning, sweetheart." The voice was low and sticky, with a drawl that didn't fit in with the south.
Freezing in my self-evaluation, I blinked hard, trying to see through the burning brightness. Slowly, he stepped forward enough to block out the light and I saw him at last. His teeth, yellow and disgusting as the day he'd murdered me, stuck out from under his thin lips, which were cracked and dry. A bald, shiny head glowed with a ring of light around it from the window, his skin a pale white that disappeared under the red flannel coat he wore over his large form. Black, worn jeans covered his legs, the ends tucked into his black, combat boots. However, there was no relief in seeing my killer at last.
I still had no idea who this guy was.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying not to let my voice tremble. "What do you want with me?"
He smiled then, the look twisting my insides, and shook his head. "I'm Nobody, darling."
My gaze traveled over the room quickly, trying to take in as much as possible. We were in a garage of sorts, a large, double door entrance on one side of the shack and shelves lining the walls. They held various things, like tools and boxes, along with some jars full of—
Gulping, I looked back at him, feeling my panic level jump to about a million. "Does Nobody keep ears in jars for a reason?" My voice did shake then, and I was unable to keep the terror out of my eyes as well. There were several of the ears floating in some kind of liquid, spread across five jars. None of them looked to be pairs.
He laughed softly, the sound enough to make me want to break both of my wrists just to get out of the ropes that bound me. Pulling a folding chair from against the wall, he opened the contraption and sat down on it in front of me, the sun blinding me once more. If I squinted and tilted my head down, I could just barely see him through the light.
"What do they call you at that school of yours?" He seemed content to take his time, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees as he watched me, a hungry look about him.
I didn't want to tell him my name, but I also didn't want to lie to him. There was a distinct feeling in the room that told me the polite nature of his person would disappear as soon as I refused to play along. It was like I was a worm on a hook, being dangled over certain death, and all I could do was dance for the beast that would eat me. "Bridge," I said quietly, my heartbeat strong in my ears.
"Bridge." He said my name as if it were a prayer, leaning back and sighing. "You're the first one, after the man in Minnesota, that is."
"The first what?" I prompted. If I could keep him talking, maybe I could figure a way out of this.
"Evil thing." He replied as if it were common knowledge, looking at me with increasing curiosity. "Like me."
"I think it's safe to say I'm nothing like you." I responded without thinking and immediately regretted it.
His eyes flashed dangerously, his teeth barred as he growled at me. "Shut up." It was a hiss, so low I almost didn't hear it. When I didn't say anything again, he smiled, his upset air dissipating. "Now, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, you were the first one after the man in Minnesota. The man who turned me into a werewolf.
"I don't think he'd meant to; I watched him for a few months after. It was clear to me that he didn't remember what he was. Even when he was a wolf, he was stupid. Slow. I was the alpha, but he lacked the will and power to be part of the pack. He was easy enough to get rid of."
Standing, he sauntered over to the jars, looking at them lovingly, and ran a finger slowly down one in the middle, stopping over one ear in particular. "This is him," he said casually. "I didn't think I was going to be able to get it before the cops showed—he was quite loud when he died—but I did. The cut isn't as even as I'd have liked, but what can you do, right?"
"Right," I replied weakly, fighting the urge to vomit.
"There weren't any others like me there, so I changed some. But they were all like the first. Stupid. Unworthy. Each time I would be hopeful that I'd finally found someone to be part of my family, but it never worked out." He pointed out a few other ears as he spoke, making my stomach feel even more violent that it had a second before. They were all human ears; he hadn't killed any of these people in their wolf form.
"And then, something interesting happened." Turning to look at me, his eyes narrowed. "I was used to cops, even the Federal Bureau of Investigation, trying to catch me. But I never expected the vampires." He became contemplative, as if he were reliving the memory with fondness. "No, that was definitely a first."
He turned back to the jars, lifting one off the dusty shelf carefully, and carried it back to his seat, cradling it like a newborn baby. "Vampires are much harder to kill than werewolves or humans," he said softly, tapping one side of the jar with his pointed fingernails. "And their bite hurts much worse. It took me at least three months to figure out how to do it. My bite was handy enough, but I didn't get to watch them die. It saddens me to think how many more trophies I could have had if I'd only known not to bite them."
My eyes were glued to the jar, watching the ears in horror. As he tapped on the glass, one near the point he was focusing on twitched. Sucking in a surprised gasp, I jumped slightly, my skin crawling as he laughed.
"You can't kill a vampire like you would any other person. Sure, you could stake them through the heart, but they wake up if you remove it. Trust me, I studied them very well. After a few failed tries, I decided to attempt fire. This one, here—" He pointed at another ear, the tip of it twitching slightly, as if it could feel his touch through the glass. "He was the quietest anyone had ever been. Not a peep as I took his ear and lit him up. However, I soon learned that you have to burn all of the body, or the wicked thing stays alive. What harm can an ear do, though?" Laughing, he stood and put the jar back on the shelf.
Horrified, I watched, suddenly realizing that there were much worse things than being completely destroyed from existence. I didn't want to spend the rest of forever as an ear on his shelf!
"Those poor people," I said softly, watching as he stiffened.
"Yes. Those poor people who would have done the same to me." His tone held no compassion or regret. He truly was a madman, this Nobody.
Sensing that I needed to change the subject back to his conquests and quickly, I cleared my throat. "Are they all supernatural? The ears, I mean."
"What?" He seemed surprised by my question, smiling at me pleasantly. "No. These first three are from before." He pointed out the jars, naming them. "Arizona, Texas, and Montana. This one, Minnesota, only has those few in it. And this one is Louisiana." The last jar wasn't hardly filled at all, but the five ears inside it made me balk.
Five people. Five murders since he'd arrived here. Suddenly, I had the sense to realize that I still had both of my ears, despite having been one of his victims.
"I had to leave after that," he continued on, apparently wanting to share his whole murderous trail with me. "They were closing in, the humans and the vampires. It would have only been a matter of time before someone got me. I always have to leave the places I live. But, I'd always wanted to see New Orleans. It seemed like as good a time as any to do it. And I quite liked it once I was here."
"You bit those two boys." We were coming up on the part that I kind of knew, the road that led to my death.
"Yes. I'd only ever tried to change adults before, but it wasn't working out. So I decided it was time for something new. They were friends, out together when it happened. I couldn't tell much from that first month, while I was waiting for them to change, but then they were suddenly gone. I've never been able to find them, despite the mark I put on them. I'm assuming they're at that fancy school of yours?"
If I'd had any color left, it would have drained from my face. Of course he hadn't known where they were. Now he did, and it would be all my fault when he went back to the school to claim them.
"It's not that it matters," he continued, waving a hand at me. "I could tell before they even changed that they weren't going to be good enough. They were too worried about girls and grades, or who was winning the football game. But then I had another thought."
He scooted his chair closer to me then, grabbing my knees as he leaned in close. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to, I was so petrified. His nails dug into my legs, leaving puncture marks that didn't bleed.
"What if I bred my own pack? A family that would be just as strong and skilled as me, because my blood would run through them! I'd tried to change a woman before, but she'd been so weepy. I couldn't stand her. After weeks of searching for the perfect mate, I killed her before I even turned back into my human form. I'd all but given up until I came here and saw you."
The amount of bile that was burning my throat by this point was enough for me to have spit in his face. Disgust didn't even describe what I felt for him, but the story wasn't over yet. I wanted to hear how he'd done it, how I'd been picked for his purposes and then killed.
"You were brave. Stood up to people others cowered before. You were out on the streets during Mardi Gras, which is a pretty dangerous time, believe me. I'd already bagged three bodies that week. It was wonderful, especially watching the cops try to piece everything together. Anyway, you were alone and I knew it was time. I'd never bit someone while I was a human before, though." A look of frustration crossed his face and his fingers clenched even tighter, causing me to yelp. "But you never left the house after dark without your mom, damn you! I wanted you to myself so I could take my time, but you never gave me the opportunity. So I grabbed you when you left the ice cream shop.
"You didn't even scream. I could tell you were the right choice, the way you held yourself as I marched you into that alley. And then you fought back! The perfect choice in a mate." He came closer, sniffing my hair, and sighed. "But you fought too hard. I managed the bite and mark, but you were struggling so forcefully that I had no choice but to slam you up against the fire escape. Your bite burst open more and you bled to death. For the first time, I felt sad about someone's death."
The memory of the pain in my head flashed through my mind again and I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to cry. Accidentally murdered by a serial killer. He had wanted me to live so he could force himself on me. What were the odds of that?
"I left you in the swamp, but I couldn't bear to bury you. I half hoped someone would find you, so I wouldn't be alone in my mourning. But then you disappeared."
"Someone did bury me," I said evenly, Tommy filling my mind. Poor Tommy. He was going to blame himself for all of this again.
"Who?" he hissed. "Who buried you?"
Refusing to answer, I kept my eyes closed tight, resisting the urge to scream when he shook me violently.
"Open your eyes!" he ordered, his rough hand striking my face.
Surprised, I did as he asked, a tear of pain sliding down my cheek.
"Months later, I felt your mark moving through the city," he growled. "And followed it. I saw you go into that building, saw that you were still alive. How?"
"That's just how it works," I stuttered, continuing to cry. Now that the floodgates had been opened, there was no way I would be able to stop the tears. "Part of the m-magic."
"Magic?" He thought for a second, his eyes looking around the room madly. "What magic? Are there more like me?"
"Y-yes!" I hiccupped, trembling beneath him, wondering what he was going to do next.
"Of course," he mused, letting go of my shoulders to stand and pace about. "The woman from the school. She was a wolf, but not like me. Strong. Intelligent."
I knew where he was going, how he was now imagining Garrett as his perfect mate. In short, I'd been replaced and I knew it.
He did, too.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he said smoothly, moving to the tools on the shelf. "But I do believe I've found someone else. And since you never changed, there's not really any reason for me to hold out hope that you're the one."
My eyes grew wide as he picked up a rusty saw, the jagged teeth glinting in the light. He considered it for a moment, holding it like a lover, and then turned to me, brandishing it like a sword.
"I've never killed a zombie before," he said conversationally. "This should be interesting."
I imagined that the scream I emitted when the saw dug into my leg could be heard in the farthest corners of the swamp, warning everyone nearby of the madman that hid inside it.