Marysvale (14 page)

“
How do you know what I want
and what time it is?” I spat, my voice trembling, trying to control
the rage.

The fury within me erupted and my whole
body was consumed with the desire to tear the beast to pieces. It
enraged me in ways that I didn’t understand. My thoughts turned to
the husband—and to the daughters who had to grow up without a
mother; and I thought of the others, whose lives had also ended so
horrifically. And it was all…for what? Because some beast decided
to mark its territory? Were the people simply a nuisance to the
Brean? Or was it just evil…and evil is irrational and selfish.
Did it even matter why the monsters did it?
No, not to me.
I didn’t want to understand; I just wanted to kill them.

“
John,” said Sarah, in a
soothing voice that pulled me back from the dark chambers of my
mind. She softly put her hand around my wrist. “Look at
me.”

Reluctantly, I peeled my eyes away from
the dark figure and turned them to the beautiful, compassionate
face that was silently pleading with me.

“
Let it go, John. Don’t
strike in anger. There will be a time and a place for it; but it’s
not now. Trust me.”

Something told me to believe her; and
with great effort, I forced myself to settle down. Slowly, the
illogical hatred subsided. My shaking and clenched fists eased,
revealing little drops of blood where my fingernails had dug into
the palms of my hands.

Once the anger had passed, I felt
incredibly foolish. I had never felt such strong hostility, even
with Mr. Martin. I thoroughly disliked him, but this was different;
it was nearly uncontrollable and all consuming. With Martin, I’d
always been in command of my emotions, except when Thomas had
sucked me in. Even so, this was more intense.

“
I…I’m sorry. I don’t know
what came over me.”

“
Think nothing of it. I know
this can all be overwhelming and a little hard to believe.
Sometimes it doesn’t seem real even to me.”

“
I don’t know how you can
sit here so calmly with that thing out there,” I
blurted.

“
I never said I was calm,”
she replied.

“
How do you know it won’t
attack?”

“
I don’t. They just haven’t
bothered me in years. I’m never fully at ease; but I’ve decided if
it happens, then it happens. I just prepare the best I can and try
not to worry about what I can’t change. Besides, we’re not totally
unprepared. First off, we know it’s there. Secondly, we don’t have
to worry about an attack from the other direction; they’re afraid
of the water and the animals get jumpy if they get too close.
Lastly…”

Sarah unbuttoned her vest, revealing
two large, strange-looking pistols.

“
They’re especially made for
them,” she said, gesturing toward the monster. “I contrived them
myself—at least some parts. I heard a traveler a long time ago
boasting that if you add groves to the barrel and spin the ball, it
becomes more accurate at a farther distance. These pistols have
that design, making them much more exact and have a greater
range.”

Sarah drew one of them and extracted
from it a narrow, cylindrical object, a little over half the length
of my finger.

“
See? They also use paper
cartridges containing both the powder and balls. They are quick to
reload, and powerful, too. Unfortunately, the paper needed to make
the cartridges is hard to come by, so I only carry them for
emergencies. Otherwise, you load them like any other
pistol.”

She looked at me expectantly, obviously
proud of her work.

“
They’re wonderful!” I
exclaimed. “How in the world were you able to create
them?”

“
I have my friend, Angus, to
thank for that. He’s an old blacksmith and he helped make the plan
of my pistols work. I also have a few muskets with the same
design—he calls them rifles.”

I had to admit I was impressed, and I
told her so. She looked pleased and I felt a little more
secure.

I was intrigued by the weapons and
wanted to try them out, but decided that could wait. Especially
since my shooting skills were less than impressive.

“
If you don’t mind my
asking, how come you stayed here after the attacks?”

“
I didn’t, at least not
initially. Just those of us who lived around the lake were hit
during the raid. Along with Michael Wolfe and his girls, I loaded
up my belongings, and we fled to Marysvale. The news of our assault
spread fast; and most of the families who lived in other parts
around Marysvale moved into town as well.”

“
And what of the ones who
didn’t leave?”

“
They, too, were eventually
attacked. Those who survived moved to Marysvale in the
end.”

“
But you’re not there
anymore….”

“
No. After living there for
a few years, it was agreed that it would be best if I left. You
see, I didn’t get along with many of the town leaders; I was a bit
of a troublemaker for them. So, they gave me the option of leaving
peacefully, with their aid and supplies; or staying, and they would
make it very unpleasant for me.”

“
You obviously chose to
leave.”

“
Yes, but it was a hard
decision. I was terrified about living alone out here with the
Brean, and wasn’t at all convinced that I would survive. Neither
were the town leaders. In fact, they expected my demise. I suspect
they gave me everything I needed, with the plan that, after I was
dead, they would come and take it all back. Only problem
is…”

“
You didn’t die,” I finished
for her.

“
No. But there were many
sleepless and nightmare-filled nights in the beginning. I finally
decided that if I died, then I died; and I stopped worrying about
it.”

I looked up and the monster was
gone.

Without having to ask, Sarah offered,
“It left only a few minutes ago.”

I felt relieved and we lapsed back into
a comfortable silence.

I was back in the dream, running
through the woods toward the cabin nestled deep in the forest; only
it wasn’t so strange now—it was familiar, much like Sarah’s home.
As before, I was struck with a great sense of dread. There was
someone I needed to see, but I didn’t want to. I held a secret; but
I was forbidden to share it. Again, I crept up the stairs and
through the front door. I made my way deeper into the cabin until I
could hear women’s voices. They were strained and tense—panicked.
Something I did caused them this fear. I hesitated, unsure of what
to do. Eventually, I gently pushed the door open and entered a
small kitchen. Two women were sitting there, one looked like Sarah.
They turned and stared at me. In that instant, a tremendous roar
split the air, and the cabin burst into flame. Black smoke choked
my lungs and clouded my vision. I heard a woman scream, and then
fall silent. A huge Brean emerged from the thick smoke. Its long,
sharp teeth dripped with blood. Red eyes fell upon me. With a
snarl, it lunged—its mouth wide, ready to devour me. I cried out in
terror, struggling to flee. Strong hands gripped me from behind and
drug me backwards out of its reach…and back into
consciousness.

The blankets were soaked with sweat.
Shaking with fear, I threw them off and sat up on the edge of the
bed. I buried my face in my hands, trying to gain control.
It
was just a dream
, I told myself; but the horror still felt
very real.

I sat for a long time, shivering and
fearful. Finally, somewhat calmer, I got up and crept down the
stairs. There were still a few embers from the night’s fire glowing
in the large stone fireplace. I retrieved some logs and gently laid
them across the brightest of the coals. After a few minutes of
smoke, flames leapt from the smoldering wood and began spreading
their warmth. From a chair, I watched the golden firelight mix with
shadows and perform their intricate dance across the walls and
objects in the room.

Slowly, the darkness outside melted
away before a new morning.

“
Are you making up for
sleeping in late yesterday?” asked Sarah softly.

She stood in the doorway, dressed in a
long nightgown, with her loose hair pulled over in front of one
shoulder—and not a bit embarrassed to be seen in such
circumstances. She truly was an odd woman. I hadn’t noticed her
arrival, and wondered how long she’d been there. Nevertheless, I
smiled at her, grateful for the company.

“
Couldn’t sleep,” I
replied.

“
I’m sorry. Is there
anything wrong? Did you get cold?”

“
No, I’m fine. Just a bad
dream is all.”

“
Ah. Anything you want to
talk about?”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing; just
one of those where going back to sleep is impossible.”

“
Mmm, that sometimes
happens—especially around these parts. I’ll get dressed and then
make us some breakfast. A good meal and a bright morning always
help; and it looks like we may have another warm, clear
day.”

The prospect lightened my mood
considerably.

“
Is there anything I can do
to help? My shoulder is getting better, and I feel like I should be
doing something. I’m not accustomed to sitting around so
much.”

“
It’s not just your shoulder
I’m worried about. You had a rough time getting here. You may feel
fine now, but if you push it, it will take longer to fully mend.
However,” she added, “I suppose collecting eggs from the chicken
coop won’t put you under, if you feel up to it.”

I did.

We dressed and I carried out my
assignment while she got breakfast ready.

After our meal, Sarah spent the rest of
the day with chores. I tried to help as much as possible, but got
scolded for doing so. She was funny when riled, and I sometimes
worked just to tease her. Finally, Sarah threatened bed rest if I
ignored her anymore. And when I ignored that, she threatened to
throw me out, saying something like, “If you’re so dead set against
healing, then you might as well just get on your way and let the
Brean finish the job.”

The latter threat was in jest, the
first was not.

The following day was much the same,
except, she removed the stitching from my shoulder. The process
consisted of snipping the thread and pulling each stitch out one by
one, with the next feeling progressively more painful than the
last—though, perhaps it was just the anticipation of the sting that
gave me that impression.

The next afternoon, Sarah decided to go
fishing, and invited me to join her. I looked at the small, ancient
row boat, sagging slightly to one side in the water, and
respectfully declined. The dog, who somehow understood what she
said, was already halfway down to the little vessel.

Looking doubtfully at the boat, I
warned, “Be careful.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I managed
before you came; I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

I shrugged. “Your funeral.”

She laughed.

Turning toward the lake, she said, over
her shoulder, “Stay out of trouble.”

I watched her row away, and then went
to check on Smoke. I found him irritable at having been left in a
stable for so long. He kept nudging and trying to knock me off my
feet every time I turned my back on him.

“
Fine,” I growled. “Have it
your way.”

I turned him loose in the pasture where
he immediately went over and tried to harass the cows. They didn’t
even notice.

Feeling drowsy, I went back inside,
sunk into a rocking chair by the fireplace, and drifted off to
sleep.

What was that noise?
I
couldn’t tell if it was in my dream or a reality. I
listened…nothing.
Had I dreamt it? No, there it is again
.
I kept my eyes closed, still listening. The porch squeaked.
Someone, or something, was out there.
Is it Sarah?
I had
no idea how long I had been asleep; but it didn’t feel long. Again
the porch squeaked—this time right outside the front
door.

Wouldn’t Sarah come up from the
dock at the back of the cabin?
Experience told me that slow
men sometimes found themselves dead. I sprang out of the chair with
a little more force than intended, knocking it over, and sending it
crashing to the floor.

I grabbed a gun from over the fireplace
and spun around, just in time to see the door fly open. Two large,
black pistols aimed at my chest.