Silas: A Supernatural Thriller (17 page)

All throughout that night I tried to stay conscious. My body was numb, and I feared that if I passed out hypothermia would claim me. Silas helped in this regard as much as he could, pressing his warm, hairy body into mine, easing the pain just a little bit. Every so often he would jump up, pace around our resting site, and offer a growl at the surrounding darkness.

To pass the time I tried to come up with an acceptable explanation for the situation I found myself in. It wasn’t an easy task.
Are we in the same place we were?
I thought.
But if that’s the case, what happened? Did I pull a Rip Van Winkle and sleep a hundred years? No, that makes no sense. Not in reality.
Just then I remembered the scene from what only could have been a day earlier, when the wicked Nick Goodman stood above me with his hands glowing. And the words he said –
pretty soon we’ll be home
. What the hell did that mean, anyway? What kind of guy
was
he? Some sort of alien? Time traveler? Warlock? Another sort of mystical creature I hadn’t thought of yet? I shook my head.
None of this is real
, my sanity implored.
There has to be a logical explanation for this. You just haven’t found it yet.

Wasn’t that the truth.

An ear-splitting howl cracked the night. Silas hopped up. I heard him pacing again, circling our enclave in an ever-widening arc. I wished I could see him. Hell, I wished I could see
anything.
My heart once again raced as terror overtook me. I just knew a mutant bear or something would come crashing around the bend any moment now, ready to tear me apart. I became faint, so I did the only thing I could. I curled up in a ball on my bed of leaves, whistled for Silas to come be by my side, and started humming.

That simple act helped to ease my terror. At least a tiny bit.

24

I’m not entirely sure when sleep finally claimed me that night, but when it did come it was the blackest of slumbers. There were no dreams at all. The experience was much like simply losing time altogether, as if I’d died for a short period only to open my eyes again to the same strange and hostile world. I experienced the dichotic sensation of uncertainty coupled with the relief that came in the form of a loving mutt who covered my face with wet, sticky dribble.

After pulling myself together, Silas and I left the forest. Once more we were on the cliff’s edge. Clouds maintained their presence in the sky, painting the atmosphere in dull grays. Their continuation served to hide us from the sweltering, huge sun, making the temperature feel more like
New England
in the fall, high fifties with no humidity, rather than the tropical rainforest I’d experienced the day before. I wished it wasn’t so, given how cold I was, but at least it was a
dry
cold this time. That struck me as strange. With as much as it’d rained overnight there should have been at least
some
moisture in the air.

I crossed my arms over my bare chest to stave off a chill.
No need to dwell on things you can’t understand, Kenny
, I told myself.

We continued our trek along the cliff face. Silas bounded about happily, as if this was the most normal thing in the world for us to be doing. I could only shake my head as I watched him prance. I wished we humans could be as blithe as dogs are able to be. Whatever happens, they deal with it without complaint. As long as their masters are safe they just move along with the innocence of children, always loyal, always loving, always
living.
Sometimes I think that’s something we’ve forgotten, with all the stresses every day brings – having the audacity to let ourselves
live.

When the soles of my bare feet became irritated from treading across the straw-like grass I sat down on the edge of the cliff and dangled my legs over the side. Glancing down, I saw nothing but sharp, jagged rocks protruding up from the water’s edge. A cool breeze whistled past my ears and I closed my eyes. The air smelled so clean, so
pure.
Silas seemed to appreciate it, as well. He pranced around behind me, jumping in circles.

I heard a low grumble. My body shook and I immediately grabbed tight to the rocks surrounding me, thinking it was an earthquake. After it passed I kept my position until it happened again, only this time I realized it was only the grumbling of my own stomach. I frowned and my shoulders slumped. How long had it been since I’d eaten? Hell, how long had it been since I’d even had something to
drink
? And as I looked at my happy-go-lucky companion, I realized it was the same for him. Though he
acted
fine, there were little signs – the way his hind legs slumped, the almost invisible tremble that passed over his lips – telling me that he was starving, too. My mouth went dry and my head woozy. The warning signs of starvation, to be sure.
Great
, I thought.
Looks like I have the mother of all headaches to look forward to.

Screw it.

I reclined back on the rough grass, my feet still hanging off the cliff, and rested my hands on my stomach. My right hand ached, a leftover present from Nick Goodman, but I ignored it. Instead I stared at the sky, watching as the swirling clouds changed forms, feeling like a kid again.
There’s an elephant, a sea lion, two people screwing, a bald eagle.
Silas traipsed over to me and sat down. I stopped naming the clouds and looked at him. He appeared tired all of a sudden. His eyes squinted and he breathed in hoarse pants.

Then, without warning, he hopped up and landed on my chest. His front paws dug in and he froze. Every black hair on his body stood on end. I heard something big – something
really
big – moving around in the woods. I craned my neck and tried to see what it was without making any quick movements.

There was a beast hidden in the foliage, a huge animal covered with white-streaked brown fur. Two yellow eyes stared at me from either side of a long muzzle. Its mouth hung open like a limp tree branch, exposing massive, sharp teeth.

I flipped from my back as quickly as I could, held Silas tight to me, and never took my eyes off the creature. It didn’t move, instead choosing to stare right through us with its haunting yellow eyes. It was the largest wolf I’d ever seen, but strangely enough, as wild as it appeared, there seemed to be no malice in its gaze.

I gradually rose to my feet and placed Silas down. My boy stayed frozen, though he didn’t seem to want to let me pass him. I grabbed the thick rolls of flesh on the back of his neck and forced him to back away. The wolf’s shimmering eyes followed us, the being they were contained within motionless as a whisper beneath the cover of undergrowth. I held my breath, fearful that the next time I exhaled the beast would smell my fear and come charging. One step back. Two steps. Three. I hoped the wolf would lose interest in us and just go away, but we didn’t have that sort of luck.

It slunk forward, one paw at a time, until it emerged fully from the trees. It stood directly before us on the path, and for the first time I appreciated just
how
large the beast was. On all fours it was at least five feet tall. Its streaked white-and-brown fur rippled as its muscles undulated. It had a circular pendant hanging from its neck by a rope, like a collar, that swung with each step it took. Silas growled and hunkered down.

This is it
, I thought.

“Go away!” a voice demanded from seemingly nowhere. “Go back home!”

A small projectile shot from the trees, striking the giant wolf on one of its pointed ears. The wolf shook its head the way Silas did when I gave him a bath.

“Get outta here!” the voice said again, and another small object hit the beast square on its nose. It snarled and aimed its muzzle somewhere off in the distance, and then locked eyes with me once more. After that it spun around on its colossal hind legs and galloped right by us, headed in the direction from which we’d come.

I let out a sigh as the creature’s white buttocks disappeared from view. Silas panted as if we’d just finished playing Frisbee on a hot summer day. It took me a moment to realize I was doing the same.

I sat down and twirled grass between my fingers, trying to slow my heart’s rampant pitter-patter. I thought about calling out to our unseen protector, but decided against it. If whoever it was wanted to make himself known, he would. For all I knew they were just as scared as I was. So instead I simply remained as I was, arms limp by my side, while Silas placed his head in my lap.

Finally, the bushes rustled. For a second I feared the wolf had doubled back through the trees. Silas lifted his head and let out an inquisitive yelp, the same sort he would offer the garbage men on Friday mornings. I stood up, my jaw clenched, my eyes bulging. I was exhausted and hungry, scared and confused, but I was ready to defend myself, and my boy, with my every last breath if need be.

It was a child that surfaced from the tangle of underbrush and limbs. The kid was no more than thirteen, with a rat’s nest of stringy hair and an angular face. A thick layer of dirt covered the child, making it difficult for me to tell if it was a boy or a girl. He/she wore a pair of torn-up old jeans and a shirt that looked like it had been sewn together using old burlap sacks. I stared in wonder. There was something painfully familiar about the kid, but I couldn’t put my finger on just what it was.

The child approached Silas and I, a look of bewilderment on his or her face. I leaned forward, lifted my chin, and held out my hands, gesturing with palms out to show I meant no harm. “How are you?” I asked robotically.

The child didn’t respond right away, still moving toward me while staring with a tilted head and perplexed expression. It was only when the child stood a mere foot away that he spoke in what definitely sounded like a boy’s voice.

“Paul? Is that you?” he said.

That was it. The scene from my many-times-begun-but-never-finished screenplay.

At that point, I assumed I really
had
gone insane.

25

For a moment the clouds parted, allowing the sun’s potent rays to warm the air and cast everything around us in an orange hue. I don’t know how long Silas and I stood there staring at that primitive, unknown, and filthy young boy, but with the newfound heat came a sense of purpose. As the day’s first bead of sweat dripped off my chin I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me?”

The boy shook as if he’d just been woken from a deep sleep, but his eyes never left mine. A frown crossed his lips.

“You can’t be here,” he said.

I laughed out loud, lost in the absurdity of the moment. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just trying to break the tension. I should remember that I’m the only one that gets my jokes.”

That brought a grin to the kid’s face. “You say that a lot,” he said.

I scratched my temple and muttered, “Thanks…I think.”

With nimble legs the boy skipped forward and pressed his dirty fingers into my forearm. He seemed transfixed. “I can’t believe you came back to us,” he said. “No wonder the lupine didn’t attack you. He’s very protective of this land, you know.”

Having no idea what he was talking about and getting seriously
creeped
out by his touch, I stepped back and threw up my hands. “Whoa,” I said. “Hold on a second.”

“Paul, what’s wrong?” the kid replied. He looked absolutely dismayed.

“My name’s not Paul. And what’s wrong? Are you insane? Look around you, kid. Where’s the towns? The stores? The
people?
And what the hell’s up with the goddamn weather? Oh, and one more thing,
how did I get here and where are my clothes?
Can you answer that?”

He stared at me blankly and fell silent.

“I thought not.”

Feeling obstinate, I patted Silas on the behind. “Let’s go, boy.” I spun on my heels and started walking away. Silas trotted alongside, seemingly oblivious to my rising anger.