No Shelter from Darkness (14 page)

The plane erupted in flames. Beth felt the boom of the explosion against her back, more glass shattered as bits of the plane ripped through homes, and she was blasted off her feet. With her arms out in front, getting ready for the painful landing, she heard the swishing of the propeller. Before she came crashing down it skimmed across the road beneath her.

She grazed her arms and legs tumbling on the tarmac. The prop smashed into the wall of the house at the end. With bloody knees she stood up and looked at the destroyed plane, her hair swept back from the heat of the fire. She looked up at what had turned to a gray sky, and through the whispers of black smoke she spotted three more dots on the horizon.

Instantly she turned and ran to the end of the street as the chorus of drones quickly grew. This time she reached that last house, and just before she turned the corner she glanced back. All three planes
were seconds from smashing down upon Moravian Street and upon its houses, including hers, and she spun backward and clung to the side of the wall. The ground shook and explosions roared. Metal twisted and walls fell. Houses crumbled. The greatest cloud of dust and smoke bellowed past her, and amongst it was a single, large rubber wheel, licked by flames. It bounced off the house in front of her and span flat to the ground.

Beth looked down at her dirtied gown. Out of the corner of her left eye she saw a figure run past the end of Cyprus Street.

Another soul.

Beth hurried to the corner, away from her decimated road, and turned to follow whomever it was. But even though the road was straight, the figure had vanished.

With nowhere else to go she began to walk forward as the day turned to dusk. This street, which she didn't recognize, seemed never-ending. And then she realized it wasn't a street at all. Looking down at her bare feet, she felt unsurprised to find herself standing in the undergrowth of a forest. She stepped forward, twigs snapping under her feet even though the ground was still soft.

Before her a sudden rustling of leaves alerted her, and Beth was sure she glimpsed the furl of a dress disappearing in the distance.

The phantom.

*   *   *

The night seemed to be an everlasting darkness, relieved only by the far off moon that hung low in the sky. Occasionally she tripped over anchored roots that hid beneath the surface of the shallow sea of leaves and twigs, while her nightgown bore the souvenirs of her journey so far.

Above her, the trees that filled this unrecognizable woodland towered, reaching up to the dark sky. With closed eyes she appreciated a slight breeze, but when she lowered her head and looked forward, the night was still in front of her. Momentarily bewildered, she realized the forest floor was no longer what she stood on, but what she laid
on. She peered down and saw her toes poking out of the leaves under which her whole body was submerged. And then from somewhere above came that all too familiar drone. The moonlight had become a dirty pale-orange and the stars had died. Frozen in confusion, she gasped when suddenly the moon moved. That dull orange globe of light glided from one side of the night to the other, seeming to swing slightly like a watch on the end of a chain.

Or like a lantern.

All around her, the leaves started to speak in short, sharp and quiet syllables.

“Pitt! Patt! Putt!”

The drops of rain landed on her face and the refreshingly cool water took the edge off a fever she didn't know she had. Then from above, a string of water fell into her mouth and she swallowed the fresh rain. Her throat felt sore as it ran down, before the coolness reached her stomach. But it didn't quench her thirst. It made it worse, somehow reminding her that water wasn't what she wanted.

Meanwhile, the low rumble somewhere above got louder, though the sky was just as dark. And then she heard the whistles of bombs. She turned her head to the side and found she was caged. Dark walls blocked her view of the forest to both sides. Suddenly her world trembled. The branches above her rustled while a shallow earthquake rumbled through the forest, shaking her on her enclosed bed of leaves. The dim orange sun somewhere yonder slowly faded away to nothing, and with it went all sound and sensation.

There was nothing but black.

Have I died? Is this impenetrable darkness the end?

She lifted her knees up, but they hit something with a dull thud. Putting her hands up in front of her, she felt the rough surface of stripped wood. And then she pushed. The surface lifted, like a door on hinges, and she pushed it open until it rested vertical against a wall. She was in a hole dug into the ground. A grave. The edge was just above her head. On tiptoes she managed to get her elbows onto the forest floor and pull herself up.

The night was almost as black as the inside of the poor-man's coffin, but in the gloom Beth could just about see the forest floor. Only it had changed. There were no longer sharp edges of leaves and twigs, but the smooth rounded contours of objects she couldn't identify.

Tentatively, she reached out with a foot and touched something. It was soft like rubber, and with a little push it rolled slightly. Careful not to step back and fall into the hole, Beth crouched down and put her hands out, touching a rounded protrusion. With both hands she patted and felt her way up what she soon realized could be an arm, an elbow, a wrist, and then without a doubt a hand and fingers. The skin seemed to be covered in a sticky, oily substance. Standing up, she looked out over the forest floor again, and in a growing light began to distinguish the glistening edges of bodies all around her, stretching as far as she could see in every direction. They left no inch of the ground uncovered.

The moon had returned behind her. Her shadow crept across the new sea of flesh and in the brightening moonlight she held up her hands. They were covered in blood. Slowly it ran down the sides and dripped from her wrists. She gasped and stepped back, but her feet faltered, caught in between soft flesh.

Instinctively, she put out her hands and screamed, but instead of plummeting backward into the grave, she fell upon the flesh. Her right hand slipped between two of the dead bodies. She screamed again, panicked, and fumbled back up to her feet, frantically wiping her hands on her gown to add to its tapestry. The moon that had climbed high above her cast its judging light upon the forest, showing Beth the thousands of pale, lifeless bodies.

All were streaked with blood. All had suffered violently.

They all stared at her with wide, dead eyes. Gaping wounds covered their bodies, with chunks of flesh torn away and necks ripped out. Beth looked at her hands, which were still smeared with their blood, and she began to weep.

*   *   *

Beth could feel the end approaching. She was tired. Weak with hunger and thirst. Unable to walk due to her feet constantly slipping on bloody limbs and torsos, she'd crawled her way through this
endless forest. The moon hadn't strayed an inch in all the time she'd been here. Every now and then a leaf fell in the distance, spinning in its slow descent before resting on a bloody thigh or twisted arm. She tried to keep her focus ahead, but in the soft light her peripheral vision saw lips peeled back over rows of teeth, mouths gaping in the midst of eternal screams. Under her hands and knees the occasional rib cracked, and more than once she'd put her hand down only to hear the squelching crack of teeth being pushed in. Sometimes they snapped off completely at the gum line.

Her body ached and her energy was all but gone. The thirst was a constant and nagging companion. With her eyes half-closed, Beth clumsily put a hand forward. It slipped and she hadn't the will to save herself, falling on dead flesh before struggling onto her back. She laid on the bloody corpses, wheezing in shallow breaths. Her eyes focused and through the dense black branches of the trees, she saw patches of very dark blue sky.
Is the night over? Is a dark dawn approaching?

Somewhere a branch snapped. Beth's eyes widened and she strained to see what was there. Her weak heart managed to beat a little stronger, a little faster.

Snap!

That one was nearer. Maybe twenty yards away. Slowly she turned her head and could just make out a figure walking toward her. A delicate light that came from behind the stranger cast it into shadow. Beth found the strength to roll over onto her front and prop herself up as the figure kept walking toward her.

Snap!

The ground hadn't changed. Dead bodies still surrounded her. It wasn't wood that was snapping, but bones. The figure seemed unconcerned, and with amazing balance continued to walk almost gracefully on the corpses. Then it stopped a few feet away. Beth looked up. Disbelief shocked her into action. Painfully, with tremendous unease, she stumbled up to her feet and looked at the figure that had emerged from shadow. A beautiful girl, dressed in a plain, brilliant white gown. She looked at Beth, and Beth looked back into the girl's bright hazel eyes; into a mirror. Her angelic twin smiled, but it
seemed sinister, and Beth flinched as a single drop of bright red blood landed on the angel's shoulder.

“Pitt! Patt! Putt!”

Red rain began to fall over the forest, and the angel's white dress slowly turned scarlet with thin streaks of blood. She raised her arms from her sides, palms facing up, and tipped her head back, opening her mouth.

“No, don't,” said Beth, but her voice was no louder than a whisper above the rain. She watched. She tried to be disgusted. She tried to feel repulsed, but instead of nausea she felt a longing, a yearning. A desire.

The rain fell heavier. The angel glistened red from head to toe. Her once flowing black hair was now stuck to her neck and shoulders and strands were slicked down across her face. Through squinted eyes Beth peered up, through the rain of blood as it fell from above. The scent of sweet, rusty metal flooded her senses. It was a divine aroma. She looked back at the red angel, but she'd vanished.

An insane resolve overcame her and she looked up once more, allowing the blood to wet her face and run down her cheeks. She felt it run over her clenched lips. And then slowly she opened her mouth. The blood ran in, and the rain became a downpour.

She'd given in to what she knew was wrong, but at that moment it felt so right. She could feel her thirst being quenched and the craving subside.

The rain stopped, replaced with an eerie silence. Slowly Beth opened her eyes, expecting to see an orange dawn through darkened branches, but instead she saw a flat, pale roof. A ceiling. Her eyes stung as the air around her reached them. Things once blurry came into focus and she recognized the flowery wallpaper to her right. It glowed a dirty orange from the light in the corner. And then she realized there was another presence in the room.

There was someone sitting beside her.

She turned, recognizing the figure instantly and looking away.

Impossible!

She turned back, half expecting the man to have been a figment of her imagination, but he was still there. Beth crawled backwards up her bed, shuffling as far to the edge as she could without falling off, and hugged her knees.

“Here. You need more,” said the familiar voice, a voice Beth hadn't heard in over a year. The man held out for her a pewter jug. A drop of blood was poised to drip from the lip of the spout.

Words caught in Beth's throat. She blinked and swallowed before trying again.

“Dad?”

FOURTEEN

BETH COULD SEE CLEARLY,
but everything still felt like a blur. She could remember being in the forest. She remembered the blood.
All
the blood. She knew it was a dream, but now with her adoptive father sitting beside her in plain cotton pajamas, she questioned whether she wasn't still in that surreal world. He should've been in some distant country, shooting Nazis and winning the war.

“Elizabeth, you must drink.”

At the sound of his voice, Beth's hands clenched around fistfuls of sheets. She was afraid, simply because he couldn't be real.

“It's okay. It's me, your father. I'm not going to hurt you.” He spoke softly, secretly.

“How did you get here?”

“Keep your voice down. People are sleeping. Here …” Bill Wade looked down at the jug he held out to her, as a gesture for her to take it.

Fragments of the horrific nightmare lingered and Beth could still smell the overpowering metallic aroma. She'd been at these crossroads before, in her dream, but now it was different. Every minute that passed she felt slightly better, a little more alive, a bit stronger. A part of her made the connection between that and the blood, and that part wanted more. But now that she was awake, she was in control of her actions and she pushed the jug away.

“I can't.” Her voice was weak and raspy.

“You must. Otherwise you'll die.”

Beth glared at her father incredulously.

“Close your eyes if you need to. Hold your breath, pinch your nose; but you must drink.”

This was utter madness. So surreal; so unbelievable. But Beth still ached all over, and her insides were crying out for what her father had brought. Unclenching her hands, she timidly held them out. With desire and disgust in equal measure, she took the jug of blood. The rusting iron was pungent and butterflies fluttered in her stomach with intense craving. She closed her eyes, lifted the jug, put the spout of it to her mouth and tipped it up.

At first she took only a sip, her eyes clenched in anticipation of the liquid making contact with her lips. It was like sipping a cup of tea without being sure of its temperature, afraid to let the liquid touch. But then it did, and Beth lost herself. She gulped down the blood, unable to drink fast enough. The jug was soon empty. She dropped it to her lap and leant back on her wooden headboard, letting the new blood course through her.

She didn't feel it find its way to her stomach, not like she would were it food or drink. The warmth she felt wasn't localized, but was spread out instead. And it was exalting. She sat silently for what felt like several minutes, in the grips of a rush that nothing else—not even the ecstasy of winning a race—could compare to. In her meditative state, she could feel the fresh blood make its way around her body, warming limbs she didn't realize were cold.