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A sea of shadows swims in front of my eyes.
My heart thuds at the thought of having lost control of the agent, though the hammering in my chest lets me know I’m still alive. The realigning shapes in my vision, the scent of gasoline and motor-oil, the blissful sound of Blare’s expletives ... all let me know I’m still me and I still have a chance to make things better. I blink.
My forehead stings, throbs, screams in pain. A chilled breeze hits my face making me notice the van’s missing back doors. My seat is half out and half in, and I’m still strapped to it, dangling. I fumble for the buckle, push the button, and slide off the seat. I hit the ground with a thunk, and my face lands on cold, frozen weeds. The chill in the air is a blessing on my burning, aching temple. Red spreads over my vision. Pain bends my will.
I close my eyes and wish for the frigid temperature to numb me forever. If I never wake up again, it’s fine by me. To hell with patching things up. Nothing is worth living through this agony. Not even redemption.
A loud sound brings me back from the cold arms of oblivion. It angers me, because it revives the pain. My side throbs in sync with my forehead, in sync with my heart. Something has gone through my ribs. The weeds tickle my nose with a strange scent. My stomach contracts and I want to vomit.
Then there’s that sound again. I try to forget about the scented weeds and look up. Several yards away a bulky form stands out from all the other shadows. I blink repeatedly and wipe sticky blood from my eyes. The shape of the overturned enemy van comes into focus. It’s laying on its side.
I flinch when a steady pounding from within the van literally makes it sway from side to side. I wipe my eyes again. The way the van’s moving makes no sense. This has to be a hallucination. Very understandable after my concussion, because I have a concussion, right?
The van stops swaying. The banging from within comes to a halt.
Yep. Just imagining things.
Then something explodes from the van and I catch a glimpse of a scrunched-up metal door flying up in the air. Hypnotized, I watch it reach the apex of its trajectory against a treeless, dark gray sky, then plummet behind the van without making a sound.
A movement from the gaping hole left behind by the disappearing door catches my attention. Two hands grab the sides, then a misshapen head pulls up followed by a torso. Soon the whole body is out and the van is swaying away, teetering somehow.
On all fours, the man, the creature, starts walking carefully on the side of the van. The figure is a dark, creeping shadow against sky. The van teeters precariously with each step the thing takes. A flattened head and body shuffle toward the back of the van. The way it moves with its stubby limbs and its fanning backside makes me want to start digging my own grave. It reminds me of something, but I’m not sure what. My primal instincts are sending me a warning that I can’t fully comprehend.
A second creature pulls out through the missing door. Its elongated head takes forever to come fully into view. The van sways more fiercely. The first Eklyptor jerks its head back, makes a snapping sound. The second one opens its long snout and snaps back.
The small hairs stand on end throughout my body then my brain catches up with my instincts. Crocodiles! They’re like freakin’, deformed crocodiles! Grotesque in their half-human, incomplete state.
The beasts move more carefully in an orchestrated dance that keeps the van’s wavering to a minimum. And then it hits me. Their vehicle is on the cliffside, vacillating between plunging over the side and clinging to the rocky edge.
The first Eklyptor is almost to the back of the van. Its gaze flickers my way, already anticipating its attack. Its protruding eyes reflect the light. A strange bitterness fills my mouth, and I have no doubt it’s the taste of fear. Images of rolling waters, as predators dismember their hapless prey, flash with vivid detail in front of my widened, fixed eyes. Damn the Animal Planet.
I only have a few seconds before they attack. I try to call out a warning, but I can’t get enough air into my lungs to muster more than a pathetic squeak.
God, I have to do something or I’m dead!
My bloody hand shoots up, aimed toward the teetering van. If I could only nudge it a bit, unbalance it just enough to make it tilt toward the overhang. My fingers shake, my body shivers with cold and exhaustion. It’s too much. I don’t have it in me. Exhausted, my arms fall limp to the cold ground.
I think of James and everyone else. I have to try harder for the others, if not for me. Even if my strength is dwindling to just scraps, even if it kills me. Pain is the only thing left, so I make it my focal point.
With every pulsing pang along my ribs, head, and spine, my blood-covered fingers reach out again. The first Eklyptor takes a leap toward the ground. A third one has exited the van; it walks upright, only its head fully transformed.
I tear my eyes away from the horror and concentrate. My eyes lock on the spot where the van’s backside goes up and down like a seesaw, touching the ground for a second then moving a few inches away from it.
The first Eklyptor is on the ground. I hear it moving, but I don’t look at it. I refuse to, because if I do, I will crumble. I ignore the fast shuffling of its thick, stout limbs, and the unnatural, inhuman laughter escaping through its short snout.
Forcing my terrified mind to pretend these creatures are not there, I pour my entire focus onto the van. If only one Eklyptor manages to jump off, James and the others can fight it. If all of them do, there’s no hope.
When the van’s backside leaves the ground next, I let the pain flow. My toes curl and my spine arches with a snap. An invisible extension of my hand, of myself, reaches out, slips strong fingers under the van and pushes up.
Two more shapes struggle to come out through the window. They fight in a frenzy to be the first to attack and tear us to pieces. Their weight helps further upset the balance. The long-snouted Eklyptor shrieks and starts sliding backward, crashing into the one behind it.
Claws run along the metal, making a screeching sound, like giant chalk pieces against a blackboard. As they glide backward, the burden becomes too much and the momentum shifts completely toward the cliff. In one interminable moment, the van hangs in the balance. Then it topples down the overhang and goes out of view in a strange and silent disappearing act.
When my eyes leave the empty space, my arm collapses to the frozen ground, lifeless. A short snout suddenly appears in front of my eyes. It gapes open, glinting with pointed, yellowed teeth two times taller than my wrist.
A foul smell, like ten pounds of rotting meat, inundates my nose. I shut my eyes, oblivious to what will happen next. I’m nothing but scraps as it is. I don’t even feel the pain anymore. In the effort it’s taken to tip the van over the cliff, I’ve lost myself and what’s left of me isn’t enough to put me back together. The hollow feel of my bones, the unconcerned quality of my thoughts, the absence of hope. I’m as good as crocodile bait.
***
SOMETHING LIKE A THUNDERCLAP followed by an insistent voice calling my name brings me back from oblivion. My eyes flutter open.
I’m still here, on the frozen ground.
Really?!
Give me a break.
The one repeating my name over and over is James, I think.
I hear another loud pop, followed by Blare’s loud curses. “Take that, you bastard!” A flash of silver catches my eye—Blare’s large gun. I flinch as she discharges another round, gun pointed toward the ground. I glance over and catch a glimpse of something gruesome. Blood and splattered tissue.
I don’t want to be awake. Nothingness is better than this. I try to tell James to let me be, but only garbled nonsense comes out. Pain is a ghost threatening to haunt me once more. I want it gone.
“Stay with me, Marci,” he says.
Can’t really go anywhere, can I? He won’t let me, and even though something strong and blissful lures me, his rumbling voice has a stronger hold on me. My lips move.
“What, honey? What did you say?” James says tenderly in my ear. His voice shifts, changes directions. “We have to get out of here. Now!”
“I don’t think we should move her,” Aydan says in a feeble way.
“We have no choice,” James says, as he picks me up in his arms.
Pain is definitely making a comeback. I groan.
“I’m sorry,” James apologizes.
My head falls to his chest. The world turns, bounces, and jerks as James runs. Pain returns with a vengeance. I will darkness to take me away once more, and it doesn’t take long to answer my call. The sliver of consciousness conjured by James is too weak to withstand this pulsating agony.
I’m sorry, James. I can’t stay with you.