I tried to get up from the ground but failed. I didn't know how long I had been laying here, motionless on the ground, but I knew I had to get going because I had this strange feeling that I was in danger. I rolled to my side and tried to push myself up, but it seemed like all my strength had been sucked out of me. I coughed, but my lungs had a difficult time gathering some air back and I closed my eyes, feeling the struggle inside me and the pain that crawls all over my body. I roll back, laying flat on my back as I gaze at the bright moon above, hovering at me like a mighty Goddess with all the stars behind her. But she was just there, and probably laughing at me.
And suddenly, out of my utter desperation, I screamed. "If there really is Good Forces... will you get me the fuck out of here!"
Something in the woods suddenly moved. Something heard me. It might or might not understand, and it did not reply, but it was there. I could feel it. Without thinking twice, I screamed again. "You stay away! I have someone here with me and he will kill you... we will kill you, do you understand?"
Was it still letting me ripen? Feeding on my fear before it came out to feed on my body? If so, the game was almost over. I was nearly out of fear. Suddenly I thought of calling to it again, of telling it, whatever it was that I didn't mean what I just said, that I was tired and it could come get me if it wanted. But I didn't do it. I am afraid that it might take me right now if I did.
I dozed in and out of consciousness all night, shivering, falling asleep and then snapping awake, sure that it was there with me, It, that it had finally come out of the woods to take me. I heard Michael murmuring soft words I Love You... right behind my ears, but when I turned around no one was there. More meteors burned across the sky, but I could not tell for sure if they were really there or if I was only dreaming them. I held the heart-shaped jewel between my fingers, gently rubbing my thumb across its surface and close my eyes.
"Michael." I whispered. "Are you still waiting for me?" I felt like crying but tears never came out this time
"I'm sorry. I'm not going to make it. Are we going to be together?" Then I was sobbing. Weeping at the thought that maybe Michael was already dead. "I'm sorry I'll never see your face again. Or feel your kiss and embrace again. I love you Michael, I love you so much." The words left my mouth without a sound, just warm breath.
I hacked my way through a dozen coughing fits, and now they hurt way down to my ribcage.
The night passed as nights of deepening sickness always do; time grew soft and strange. When the birds at last began to chirrup and I saw a little light beginning to strain through the trees, I could hardly believe it. I lifted up my hands and looked at my dirty fingers. I could hardly believe I was still alive, either, but it seemed I really was alive.
I stayed put until the day was light enough to see the ever-present cloud of bugs around my head. Then I got slowly up and waited to see if my legs were going to support me or give way and let me fall back down again. When I straightened back up again, dizziness roared through me, my body aches and a squadron of those black-winged butterflies clouded my sight. Seconds later, they faded and I managed to stand straight.
Soon I was barking like a dog with my hands planted just above my knees and my hanging hair swaying back and forth in a filthy curtain. I somehow kept on my feet, refusing to give in and fall. But God, it felt like everything hurted like hell.
I must had bit something in my mouth when I was coughing, but I knew better. This had come from deeper inside. The idea was scary, and fright brought me into sharper focus. I found myself able to think again. I cleared my throat (gently; it hurt too much to do it any other way) and then spat. Bright red. Oh jeez, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
A sudden rough rattle of distant explosions split the still morning air-it sounded like a puddle of soda being sucked up through a giant straw. I cried out, and I was not alone in my startlement; a number of crows cawed, and a pheasant exploded through the brush in a ruffled whir of indignation.
I stood, wide-eyed, the forgotten about the blood on my mouth, or even my struggle for breathing. I know that sound; it was the rattle of backfires through an old muffler. There was another road up there. I want to run but I know I must not and I can't. If I do, it would blow out all my energy in one burst. That would be dreadful. To faint away and perhaps die of exposure within actual sound of traffic would be like blowing the save when the opposing team was down to strike. Such abominations happened, but I will not let it happen to me.
I began to walk instead, forcing myself to move slowly and deliberately, listening all the while for another series of those rattling backfires, or a distant engine, or a horn. There was nothing, nothing at all, and after an hour of struggling and walking, I began to think I just hallucinated the whole thing. It doesn't seem like a hallucination, but ...
I was at the top of a rise and looked down. I began coughing again, and more blood flew from my lips, bright in the sun, but I didn't care-did not even put my hand up to cover my mouth. Below my feet was a rutted track, T-squaring into a dirt road. I walked slowly down and stood upon it. There's no tire tracks-it was hardpan-but there were real ruts here, and no grass growing down the middle. The new road ran at right angles, roughly east and west. I did not turn west for any other reason than that my head begun to ache again and I didn't want to be walking directly into the sunshine ... but I did turn west.
I began to move again, trying to push the difficulty in breathing aside.
It was perhaps forty-five minutes later and I could barely lift my foot anymore. My breathing was faster and more shallow and I couldn't stand straight. But suddenly I heard something, distant but unmistakable.
Don't be stupid, you've gotten to a place where anything's mistakable.
Perhaps so, but ...
I cocked my head to the right, and held my breath. I heard the thump of blood on my temples, the wheeze of my own breath in my infected throat, the call of birds, the rustle of the breeze. I heard the hum of mosquitoes around my ears ... and another hum, as well. The hum of tires on pavement. Very distant, but there.
I began to cry, still no tears were coming out of my feverish eyes. "Please let me make it," I said in a husky voice that was now down to little more than a whisper. "Aw, God, please, let me make it o-"
A louder rustling noise commenced behind me-not the breeze, not this time. I might have convinced myself (for a few cruddy seconds or so) that it was, what about the snapping sound of branches? And then the grinding, splintering sound of something falling - a small tree, probably, that had been in the way... In Its way. It had let me get this close to rescue, had allowed me to come within actual hearing of the path I had so casually and carelessly lost. It had watched my painful progress, perhaps with amusement, perhaps with some sort of god's compassion that was too terrible to even think about. Or probably waiting for life, slowly crawling out of my body.
Now it was through watching, through waiting.
Slowly, as my breath shallowed and knees weakened, both with terror and with a strange sort of calm inevitability, I turned to face it.
IT EMERGED from the trees on the left side of the road, it was a fully grown black bear, perhaps too large. There were leaves and burdocks caught in its shiny fur, and held in one hand-yes, the clawed rudiment of one, at least-was a branch from which most of the bark had been stripped. It held this like a woodsy wand or scepter. It came to the middle of the road, seeming almost to paddle from side to side. It remained on all fours for a moment, and then, with a soft grunt, rose to a stand on its rear legs. I gasped, took a few steps backward slowly, scared that it might run and bite my head off. But as I did, I fell backwards, my back hit the ground and I groaned in pain; eyes closed tightly as my back aches even more.....
It walked closer. I felt like running but I couldn't... I couldn't even stand anymore. It peered at me with black eyes with its tan muzzle scented at the air, and then it raised the broken branch it held to its mouth. The muzzle wrinkled back, revealing a double row of huge, greenstained teeth. It sucked at the end of its branch, reminding me of a little kid with a lollipop. Then, with great deliberation, the teeth clenched upon it and tore it in two. The woods had fallen silent, and I heard the sound its teeth made very clearly, a sound like splintering bone. It was the sound of my arm would make, if that thing bit down on it. When it bit down on it. I shudder, is this the end?
It stretched its neck, its ears flicking, its shadow, long in the morning light, stretched almost to my scuffed feet. We're no more than twenty feet apart.
It had come for me....