The Awakening (12 page)

The jingling of the keys in the door followed by the familiar sound of three shoes on the hardwood signalled the return of the family. Gabriella’s head flicked up, much to my disappointment.

The lounge light flicked on and three sets of surprised eyes looked at us from the doorway.

Mum composed herself first. “Hello there! Now you must be Gabriella,” she gushed, setting a new time record for mortally embarrassing me.

They greeted each other. John’s eyebrows were lost in his hairline throughout the greeting. Mikey tried to give me a sly wink, which Gabriella noticed and smiled. Then to my complete mortification, they all sat down.

What could easily have been a social train wreck ended up not being too bad. As I prayed for the ground to swallow me up, they only asked Gabriella a few questions about herself - which she answered, I noticed, without actually giving much away. My guest certainly knew how to hold a crowd, cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. She also complimented me, explaining how I was the friendliest person she’d met at the sixth form and how I’d been looking after her. I went very red in response.

Finally Gabriella announced that she had to leave, and I jumped at the offer to see her out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my family nodding their approval.

She was gesturing towards a sleek, black motorbike resting at an angle behind a car. An equally black helmet hung on the handlebars, the throttle poking through the open visor.

We walked over to the bike and she picked up the helmet, resting it against her hip like a basketball. She started the engine and the pulse of it filled the quiet night.

She slid the helmet down over her head and jumped onto the bike. I watched as she raced down the road and disappeared around the bend.

I shook my head.
Wow
.

*

Running. I was running for my life. Tearing through the blinding fog, an indescribable terror clawing at my chest.

I turned down endless identical streets, trying to find somewhere to hide. Grand houses stood protected behind towering metal gates, denying me solace. Behind me, I could sense something approaching. My back prickled as if death’s cold hands were inches away. I didn’t dare turn my head. I kept going, pressing forward in the desperate hope that I would find a place to hide.

A wooden fence solidified out of the spiralling mist. With a glimmer of hope, I clambered over the top and fell into an overgrown front garden. A house stood ahead, one that once would have outmatched the beauty of those around it, but had long since fallen into disrepair. The numerous windows were boarded up and several ceiling tiles had fallen away, exposing yawning holes. The whole house seemed to sag in on itself, as if it were dying from loneliness. I noticed a crumbling family crest etched into the stone above the front door. It depicted a crescent moon with a pyramid of 3 stars in the centre.

Trembling, I turned back to the fence and pressed an eye to a hole in one of its panels. The fog blanketed the area, swallowing the horizon in all directions. Streetlamps lined the road, their glow turning everything an eerie orange. The long grass where I crouched was wet. The damp spread through my jeans, numbing my knee. I didn’t move. I knew that doing so would be suicide. So I kept myself hunched down...waiting and watching, not daring to breathe.

From somewhere in the distance I heard a sound which froze the blood in my veins. Some unfathomable baying from a creature which had no place in this world. It was followed by a thunderous pounding on the pavement. The vibrations swept along the ground, shooting up my body like waves of electricity. The noise was deafening. It sounded like an army of ten thousand approaching; charging in perfect unison. The rough wood scraped my face as I pressed it closer to the fence. I was shaking uncontrollably, but I needed to see.

The armour clad creature appeared through the fog like an apparition from hell. This time it was riding atop the most deformed and horrific beast I had ever seen. It resembled a horse, but was at least twice the size and misshaped. A large twisted horn protruded from its forehead, contorting downwards at an angle. Its eyes were two shining red orbs. Pulsing welts covered its decaying black skin and long fleshy tendrils protruded from deep wounds. They flailed around wildly, whipping the air with sharp slashes. Its tangled mane was coated in congealed green slime. Thick chains wrapped around the beast’s muzzle, cutting into its flesh in raw grooves.

As I stared, a sharp pain in my chest reminded me I wasn’t breathing. I had no choice but to take a gulp of air. As I did, a sickly sweet smell – like honey coated decay, invaded my nose. It was too much. I twisted and vomited by my feet.

Please God don’t let it have heard me.

My body was a shuddering wreck as I peered back through the gap.

Mercifully the creature galloped past my hiding place, the rider never even turning its head in my direction. It was focused on something in the distance, body leaning forward, the rusting metal reins clutched tight in its gauntlets. Rider and steed were enveloped by the fog and vanished from sight as fast as they had appeared.

I stayed as still as a rock, listening as the sound of the beast’s booming hooves faded. I breathed a sigh of relief and slumped with my back against the fence. It was only then that I felt the dampness on my cheeks and discovered I was crying. I wiped my hands across my face and screamed.

They were covered in blood.

I woke up. My breath ripped through my lungs in harsh bursts. I detangled myself from the sheets and half fell to the floor. The fading remnants of the dream clung to my mind like cobwebs. Images of blood and fear flashed in the darkness. I clawed for the light switch in the gloom, squinting as the room flared up. When my eyes had adjusted, I turned to face the mirror and a second scream caught in my throat.

My eyes were bleeding.

8

I
sat on the edge of the bed, feeling unrested and irritable. I wiped my palms across my face, trying to liven myself up. After the blood incident earlier, I’d woken up Mikey. He’d sworn a few times and tried to explain it away.
Maybe some kind of bug? A side effect of my change? Or stress?
His answers had been both random and inane, but simply talking to someone else made had made me feel a little better. I’d tried to recount my dream to him, but all I could recall was blood and the awful, suffocating fear. After an hour or so, exhausted from talking, I’d crawled back to my room and sank into bed for an uncomfortable, dreamless sleep.

As I trudged downstairs, the sight of the hallway full of suitcases made me raise my eyebrows.

Have Mum and John had an argument?

In the kitchen, Mum was standing over the sink. Dishes were caught in a torrent of sloshing water, scourers and soap suds, before being slammed down on the draining board. John stood to the side, rolling his eyes and drying the abused crockery with a haggard looking tea-towel.
Spot on.

The cogs turned and my brain engaged. My grandparents on Mum’s side had moved to Killarney about ten years ago. It was a tradition for us to visit them once a year, just before Christmas. But this year, the only time John could get off work came before Mikey and I broke up from school. Rather than cancel the trip, we’d insisted they go anyway. Secretly I’d been a bit gutted. I liked Connie and Edgar. They were the sort of couple that had been together so long, they lived their lives through a series of combined routines. Connie made the bed, Edgar prepared breakfast. Connie poured afternoon tea, Edgar put out the biscuits. Connie fixed dinner, Edgar laid the table. The list went on. Plus, without fail, every morning, they got up at seven and went for a twenty minute stroll along the beachfront - hand in hand. They relied on each other to make their world revolve. It was heart-warming to see.

I frowned.
Is it really that time already?
I’d been so wrapped up in myself, I hadn’t noticed anything else.

Mum turned to face me. She’d been crying. Her mascara ran down her face in two thick lines. The image made me shudder involuntarily.

John sighed and flopped his tea-towel down on the worktop. “As you know we’ve had this trip planned for some time. But at the last minute, your Mother has decided that she no longer wants to go.” He glared at his wife. “Isn’t that right Elaine?”

She walked over to me and placed her hands on my arms, leaving a topping of soap suds. “You’ve seemed so troubled lately sweetie. Up and down all the time. I just don’t think leaving you right now would be the best idea.”

I stared at her swimming eyes, trying to work out what she was thinking.
Does this have something to do with what she said the other day?
I couldn’t be sure, but I knew for certain that with all these crazy things happening, it would be better to have them out of harm’s way.

I shook my head slowly. “Mum you don’t need to look after me. I’m fine - better than fine, I’m great! Go enjoy yourselves. Mikey and I are more than capable of surviving on our own.” I tried my best to look as serene as Buddha.

“I’m
fine
. Go!”

“Rostered sweetie” corrected Mum, as she pulled me into a hug. I glanced over at John, who winked and gave a thumbs up. No doubt thinking of the two weeks of dog tracks and local pubs that was now back on.

The rest of the morning was devoted to the torrent of information which served as a precursor to any of Mum’s trips away: a list of food in the fridge and cupboards, where the emergency money could be found - for food, not alcohol, how to successfully operate the oven, washing machine and dryer and finally how the neighbours would be watching and would duly report any parties. The latter seemed to be aimed at Mikey, who mumbled a response, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Mum made me promise that if I needed her at all, I would call immediately and they would cut their trip short. After the fifth round of promises, she seemed convinced. They loaded their bags into the Volvo estate, beeped the horn and backed out of the drive. Mum’s eyes stayed fixed on me the entire time. Her guilty expression stayed in my memory long after they’d disappeared.

Rubbing my arms against the cold, I turned to go back inside.

And saw my schoolbag.

It sat innocently in the space between the doorstep and hedge like a patient visitor. With a shaking hand, I opened the zip to be greeted by the sight of all my things which had previously lain scattered over Mason Avenue. I snatched up the bag, clutching it between my arms like a baby and scanned the street for signs of elusive Samaritans.

Nothing.

*

The next few days were crazy free. Mikey and I got to and from school without being attacked by any demented creatures. The new car remained in one piece. I had no disturbing nightmares...that I remembered anyway. I certainly didn’t cry any more blood. Mikey and I developed a kind of camaraderie over the whole situation and he always looked a little disappointed when I had no new news for him.

Lunchtimes were shared with Gabriella and Tim. Once he’d got over her looks, and could string words beyond my phone number together in her presence, we got on well as a trio. Meanwhile I’d become a bit of a talking point. Fellow students were intrigued by the new, confident, Audi-driving Alex. I went from being a nobody to a blip on their radars. When I walked down the corridors, those coming in the other direction moved out of my way, instead of ploughing through as if I didn’t exist. Others gave the slightest nod in the hallways. I moved from the reject seats in History to the middle. In English and Science, there were suddenly people on my row. I had received a social promotion. No longer a bottom feeder, I’d evolved into a respectable sized fish. There were no delusions on my part. I knew much could be attributed to superficial improvements and a certain girl I hung around with. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. I’d spent so much of my life living on the outside; it felt good to walk on the other side of the fence.