United We Fall
By Giovanna Lagana
© 2010, Giovanna Lagana.
The boisterous thunder echoed in the distance. It sounded like the war drums of an ancient Indian tribe signaling its enemy it was on the warpath. No doubt about it, it was coming.
Steve Marcus’ heart fibrillated in his chest. The howling wind made him lose his breath. They had been walking in circles in this Godforsaken forest for the past three days. With their food supply gone, all they had left was a day’s ration of water.
Exhausted, hungry, and stressed beyond anything he ever experienced before, he tugged out his damp, sweat stained handkerchief from his jean pocket and rubbed his drenched forehead for what seemed like the hundredth time. “How long was that one?”
His twin brother, Pete, took off his backpack and flung it to the ground before him. “Twenty seconds. The storm is getting closer.”
Steve just had to laugh out loud at that. “You think. Wow, for the first time in three freakin’ days, you get one Goddamn thing right.”
Pete bent over and braced the weight of his upper torso on his legs by leaning his arms on his knees. “How long are you going to hound me?”
“Until you find out where the hell we parked our car. Until we get out of this hell hole and back to civilization where I can have a decent thing to eat. That’s when, bro.”
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? Did I plan for us to get lost like this?”
“Yeah, well, you know we aren’t exactly the Davey Crocket types. We’re spoiled, lazy city folks and have no business here. And where did you get the stupid idea for this anyway?”
Pete sat on a large rock next to a tree as the fierce wind whipped his shoulder length hair into his face and mouth as he spoke. “Phil at work does this all the time. I figured it would be a good way for us to hang out. You know, like when we were kids.”
Steve dragged his earth-soiled walking boots over to sit next to him. As he sat down, his hamstring cramped on him and he had to stretch his leg out to stop the pain. Between deep breaths, he said, “Pete, we never went hiking or camping as kids. The closest we ever got to anything dealing with the outdoors was when Dad took us to the drive-in in the suburbs.”
“Okay, it was a stupid idea.” Slumping and scrunching his face, he sighed out loud. Pete was obviously in as much pain as he. Having walked more than a hundred miles in three days, Steve’s feet had blisters the size of golf balls on them. His whole body felt as if it had been stretched out like an elastic band and then flung into the air only to crash to a cement floor. Yup, that about summed it up. His brother surely must be feeling the same way.
When Pete lifted his head a few minutes later, his eyes appeared filmed. “Steve, the real reason I wanted us to go on this trip is beca—”
Before Pete could finish his sentence, a sudden downpour of cold rain pounded on them without any warning. They both jumped up and Pete screamed, “Damn! Hurry, help me with the tent!”
Steve quickly joined his brother in setting it up. Lucky for them, they had one of those pop up tents with an all-in-one pitching. If they had one of those traditional ones, it probably would have taken them an hour or more to get it up. If they could get it up at all.
The pop up tent was ready in less than five minutes and they scurried in, zipping the flap closed. The wind howled and shook the tent and the heavy drops of rain hitting the impermeable nylon shell made a muffled tapping sound. Both Steve and Pete sat there soaked, shivering. “Can things get any worse?” Steve bitched coming close to the end of his endurance.
He took off one of his soaked shoes and threw it to the corner of the small tent. It rebounded off the nylon siding and hit him in the shin. “Damn!!!!”
Pete lay back and breathed aloud. He crossed his arms over his face and his chest heaved up and down. While rubbing his leg, Steve stared at his brother. Was he hyperventilating? When he heard murmured cries, he realized his brother was crying. He leaned down and rubbed his arm. “Pete, relax. The storm will ease up soon. When it clears, we’ll head out again.”
Wiping his eyes with his dirt-stained hands, thus smearing them like a football player would smear black grease to reduce the sun’s glare, he then glared at Steve. “And then what? How do we get out of here? How?”
Covering his face once more with his arms, he added, “This isn’t how I planned this. I wanted us to have a peaceful time together...have fun...to talk.”
Steve pulled his arm away from his face. “Bro, we can still talk. Hell, we got nothing better to do than talk.”
Taking a deep breath, Pete sat up. “Okay, you’re right. I...” Combing his fingers through his hair, he stared at Steve. “This is hard for me to say. I’ve been rolling it over in my head all this time, figuring out a way to tell you. But now I guess the best way is just to say it.” He took another intake of air and stated, “I’ve got pancreatic cancer. The doctors give me about three months to live.”
Pete’s words suddenly flipped Steve’s world upside down. Pete dying? In less than three months? No, it couldn’t be. God would never be so cruel as to separate them like this. Getting the air kicked out of him and his lungs close to collapse, a murmured, “What?” escaped his lips.
“I didn’t want to tell you before, but then when the doctors confirmed it was terminal, I knew I had to start settling things.”
Steve nudged him. “Settling what? This is a joke, right?” Desperateness made him cling to disbelief, although deep inside, he knew it was all true. Their connection as twins told him so.
Tears moisten Pete’s eyes. “No, I wish it was, but it’s not.”
Steve’s arm fell to his side, weighing a ton. “How long do you—”
Before he had a chance to complete his question, a loud buzzing sound erupted in his ears. It sounded like an electric saw only less loud, more like a hum. He jumped back when he saw the side of the tent dip in as something pointy pushed the tent’s shell inward. He shouted, “What the hell?”
Pete leaned over him to touch the lining, to stop the poker from protruding inside. Just as his hand touched the side, the poker disappeared as did the buzzing sound. But in that instant, something heavy and hard fell on top of them from the outside, bringing down the tent over them. The massive, concealed instrument hit Steve in the head and it felt like a club had bashed his skull in. The mysterious weapon suddenly disappeared and the tent sprung up to its previous shape. Holding his throbbing head, rocking back and forth in agony, he sensed his temple swell.
Pete jumped to his feet in a crouched position, unzipped the tent’s entry, and ran out screaming, “You bastard!”
Steve’s vision blurred as he closed his eyes in pain. He sat there a few more minutes until Pete came back in huffing. “You okay?”
Steve opened his eyes to look at him and the ache darted through his head and neck. Closing his eyes again, he uttered, “Augh!” As the affliction subsided, and turned to a dull pulse, he opened his eyes slowly this time. Removing his hand from the side of his head and tilting it so his brother could have a better gander, he asked, “How bad is it?”
Pete crawled closer and scrutinized. “The bump is getting bigger. Right now, it’s as big as an egg. But you’re not bleeding” He placed his open palm onto Steve’s injury with force. Pain spread through Steve’s skull again. “What are you doing?”
Continuing to put pressure on the bump, he responded, “I know it hurts, but it will stop the swelling.”
Tears streamed from Steve’s shut eyes now, “How? By shoving my brain into my nasal cavity? Stop it. It hurts too much.”
Pete relented. “Fine, you do it yourself.”
He sat back as Steve mimicked Pete’s actions before by placing his palm flat on the bump and tried to flatten it. The pain shot through his head once more, only it was bearable this time. “So what the hell just happened here? Did you catch them?”
Pete frowned. “When I got out, all I saw was a tall, dark figure running away. I chased after it, but it was too fast. Right before it ran into the cover of thick trees, it turned its face to look at me. I saw only blackness.”
Steve chuckled at the preposterousness. “It? What the hell are you saying? It wasn’t a man?”
Pete sounded dumbfounded. “No...It wasn’t human. Too big to be human.”
“So what? A bear?”
Pete shook his head. “No...It walked on two legs.”
“Can’t be a gorilla.”
“Definitely not.”
Bafflement intoxicated Steve, or maybe it was the blow to the head that made him feel woozy. “Then what was it?”
An expression of exasperation spread over Pete’s features. “How the hell should I know?” Within seconds, his eyes denoted a faraway look. “What if it was...?” Then silence.
By now, after all they had been through these last three days, Steve’s patience had become nonexistent. Raising his voice, he asked, “What? Maybe it was what?”
Refocusing his eyes on Steve, Pete scratched his head. “What if it was the Sasquatch?”
Steve drew his legs in and had an unbelievably strong urge to assume the fetal position of security as fear crept over him. “You’re pulling my leg, Pete.”
Shaking his head vigorously to solidify his claim, he reiterated, “No, Steve. It honestly looked like it. It was close to eight feet tall.”
By now, the tent had become a cone of silence for Steve. Although it continued to rain heavily, the droplets making a drumming sound on the outside of the tent, Steve heard nothing. His ears popped. He felt like he was immersed in a stifling, suffocating liquid. As if he floated in a sea of blood, gazing up at his brother. A psychedelic trip if ever he had one. The campus pot parties of yesteryears couldn’t even come close to what he experienced right now.
Pete must have noticed something because his worried eyes opened wide and he grabbed his arm. “Steve? Steve, you okay?”
He didn’t hear what his brother expressed, but Pete’s lips were easily read. Slowly crawling to the center of the tent and lying down, Steve proclaimed without glancing up, “I just need to rest.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. That hit on the head may be serious. The last thing you should do is rest now.”
He would have ordinarily agreed with his brother’s sound judgment. After all, Pete had always been his protector, beating the bullies who bugged him after school, covering for him with their parents when he juked school. But right now, his body had a mind of its own and it was overriding Pete’s wise words. He wanted to close his eyes, yearned to like he never had before.
As his eyelids fell closed, his brother began to shake his arm. “Steve, no. Don’t do this. Fight to stay awake.”
Yawning, he responded, “I want to, but my eyes are so heavy. I’ll close them for a second and then wake up.”
And as he did just that, an encompassing fatigue blew in and his consciousness began to shrink. The black abyss of unconsciousness awaited him on the other side. Right before he reached its threshold, a savage cry rang in his ears.
His eyes sprang open even before consciousness resurfaced. He jumped in a sitting position with a start. Adrenaline secreted its wonderful elixir into his body and blood, bringing him completely out of his trance. “What was that?”
Pete leaned closer to him, covering his ears. “I don’t know, but it’s freakin’ loud.”
Trying to still his fibrillating eardrums that threatened to shatter from the noise, Steve commented, “Yeah, it’s killing me.”
Pete crawled to the exit.
Steve screamed, “Don’t go out there, Pete!” But his voice was muffled by the screeching cry vibrating around him. It seemed to be circulating, making the hairs on his skin stand to attention. Pete was out before he could move to stop him. Just as he disappeared outside, the shrilling cry ended.
Completely alone, hysteria took over. The cacophony of reinvented silence maddened him and he worried for his brother. His sixth sense warned him that whoever or whatever had been screaming before was evil and intended to harm anything in its path. Could it have been the creature Pete saw before?
He needed to go after him. Even if his surroundings still spun before his eyes and equilibrium teased him with what was the center and what the side, he needed to save Pete. They were one; without him he’d be nothing. They were born united and by God they’d die the same way.
He sighed and squinted as he tried to focus while he clambered to the opening. Even before he could poke his head out, Pete came back. His brother’s eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets, his pallor whiter than the whites of his eyes. Steve’s heart collapsed to the pit of his stomach, making the acid there splash into his esophagus. “Pete? Pete, what’s wrong?”
He glared forward, as if he stared right through Steve. He waved his hand in front of him as Pete came to sit cross legged next to him. “Pete, please say something. You’re scaring me. What’s out there?”
He turned his head sideways to look at Steve. “Ban...shee.”
“You’re not making sense! What are you saying?”
“I think—I think it was a banshee.”
“Banshee. What? Are you crazy?”
He gulped loudly. “Steve, it was a woman in a grey dress. She had long white hair. When I got out, she was standing in front of the tent. She looked at me, pointed to me, and nodded. Then she turned around and ran away.”
“Now you’re freakin’ me out, Pete. I can’t take anymore of this. I’m going crazy.”
“Steve, it had to be a banshee. Remember the stories Grandma Mary used to tell us about the Banshee, how it warned her that her sister was going to die and she died in her sleep that night? The thing she described she saw and heard as a kid was exactly what I just saw.”
Tears streamed down Steve’s cheeks making a line of coldness as they descended. He remembered those eerie stories she retold them time and again. She had been senile, whacky, and sometimes made up things, mixing her dreams with reality. But he always knew the story she told them about the Banshee was true. She never ever wavered from the story each time she retold it.
Now hyperventilating and crying, he stated, “No, Pete. You’re wrong. Your brain is playing tricks on you.”
Compassion spread over Pete’s face. He wiggled closer to him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Maybe. Maybe it wasn’t real and I’m hallucinating. We haven’t eaten in more than a day. My brain is probably retaliating” Rocking him to and fro, he rubbed his head.
Steve listened to his brother’s heartbeat. It was loud, steady, and comforting. Closing his eyes, he remained motionless, registering every sound from Pete and the movement his chest made with each breath he took. Pete resonated with life and security. Soon sleep crept into the folds of Steve’s mind, drifting him into deep slumber and dreams of happy days.
****
His mother was standing between Steve and Pete with a platter of scrambled eggs and sausage. Placing it on the table, she smiled. “Time to eat, boys.”
Steve rubbed his hands together in anticipation and began to stretch his arm out to get a sausage when he heard, “Wake up, Steve.”
He tried to talk, but his tongue wouldn’t move. The tempting sausage still beaconed to him. “Come on, Steve. Wake up.”
Suddenly, the sausage disappeared and darkness enveloped him. He realized he had been dreaming. Opening his heavy eyelids, he moaned. “Aahhh,” He was leaning on Pete’s shoulder. Drool moistened his chin.
Moving a meager inch at a time while pain shot through his body and skull, he came to an upright position. He rubbed the liquid off his face by passing the back of his hand across his lips.
Pete smiled. “How are you feeling?”
He sneered. “Like I just got hit by an eighteen wheeler. You?”
Laughing, he replied, “Much of the same.”
Realizing the drumming of raindrops was no longer heard, he asked, “Hey, the storm’s gone. How long did I sleep?”
“You were sleeping for about an hour. Strom ended thirty minutes ago.”
“Good. Now we can get out of here and find our car.” He slowly pushed himself up and scampered over to the tent’s opening. Unzipping it, he walked out. Although the grass and foliage were wet, the sun had come out again. It shone bright promising good fortune.
Pete followed him out. Taking a deep breath, he proclaimed. “Love the smell of wet grass.”
Steve had to agree. “Yeah, me too.”
Glancing around, he asked, “I guess we should pack the tent and head out?”
Pete nodded. “Yeah, let me pack the stuff. You take a look around and decide which path we should try this time around.
“Okay.” Steve said and then started walking around the muddy perimeter. The storm and strong winds had broken several branches. He had to step over a large branch obstructing his path. Other than this debris, everything seemed as it was before. No tell tale sign the Sasquatch and the Banshee had been there. If it weren’t for the bump on his head that had now shrunk to the size of half a ping pong ball, he would have sworn it had all not been real.
Pete walked up to him. “All packed up. So, have you figured out which way we should go?”
Steve pointed to his right. “Let’s try that way.”
“All right, let’s go.” Pete took the initiative and led the way. Steve followed a few paces away. After a few minutes, Pete stopped and turned around to look at Steve. “I’ve been thinking. What if what happened earlier was a hoax? What if there’s someone out there following us, playing with our heads?”
A chill crept up Steve’s back. A potent forewarning screamed in his head to look around. Eyes were watching them. Scanning the area, he asked, “Why?”
“I don’t know. A lot of crazy people out there,” Pete said peering behind him at Steve. He wasn’t looking where he walked, and since Steve glanced around scouting for their predator or predators, he also didn’t see the dead oak tree in front.
First Pete bumped into it, then Steve. It shook with vigor from the double collision and two round things fell to the ground from up above. Pete picked up one and uttered, “What the hell?”
Steve glanced at his possession and freaked. A dirty, man-handled doll’s head with red glass eyes stared back at them. “A doll. Where did that come from?”
Pete glared upward and pointed. Steve followed his gaze and let his jaw fall open in a gawking gesture. An eerie feeling overcame him like a rush of water from a breaking damn, making him tremble with shock.
An array of dolls’ heads hovered over them. The heads were impaled by the tree’s dead branches. Each and every one of them appeared to be staring down at them with the same haunting, evil eyes. Steve had to look away. “What the hell is this?”
Pete stared up. “Some sick joke. That’s what it is.” He pointed further up. “Look there.”
Steve followed his vision. There were other dead trees up ahead. Dolls’ heads were speared by their branches. Their red glass eyes seemed to gleam with mischief. Steve started to walk faster. “Let’s get out of here, now.”
He couldn’t help but look up at the evilness above him. Sure enough those gleaming red eyes, mirrors of hell’s abyss, followed his every step. Pete must have felt the same thing because he began to run. “Steve, come on, run.”
Even though his body was starved for food and sustenance, he found the strength to run for his life. Pete ran by his side, both of them running blindly, yearning to be free of the evilness that smothered them in terror.
Neither one saw what was up ahead—nor could they have ever imagined such a bizarre thing-- until they plunged right into it. A pool of thick, red liquid surrounded Steve as he tried to keep his breath while he sank under it. Since this substance was thicker than water, he needed to paddle harder and faster to get to the surface.
Breaking the surface, he took a deep breath. Some of the liquid oozed into his mouth and he tasted saltiness. Blood. It was blood. A pool of blood and something else. The stench overwhelmed his sense of smell, making the hairs inside his nostrils burn away.
Pete surfaced then looking like a red puppet. He focused on Steve. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Pete stared at the liquid, spinning around in it. Steve blurted, “Its blood.”
His brother nodded. “I think so. Let’s get out of here.”
But before either of them could move, a shrilling cry was heard behind them. They didn’t need to turn to know who or what had come back a haunting. But Steve pivoted to gaze just the same. An old, thin woman dressed in a weathered grey dress and with white, long, straight hair stood at the edge of the pool. Her eyes looked exactly like the eyes of the evil dolls. Red, gleaming, and made of glass. She smiled as she danced around, revealing rotten, pointy teeth. Steve’s heart jumped into his throat, restricting his breathing.
If that weren’t enough, along came the hairy, dirty Sasquatch to join in her celebration. They were real and here, ready to play this out until the end. From the way the beast followed the old woman, Steve deduced she was its master.
He looked at Pete and realized he too had come to the same conclusion. As Steve saw his life with Pete go before him, knowing they had maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours before they’d die a cruel, painful death, a vision formed in his mind.
A foreign voice spoke to him telepathically. Although the language was foreign, nothing he had ever heard before, he understood what was said. The Banshee communicated with him.
She showed him the scene of when they came to the clearing they had camped at in the storm. How he and his brother had been walking in circles for hours, lost, exasperated. She also showed him how she found them. The dolls. They were her eyes. They let her know her city prey had arrived, vulnerable and almost ready for the taking.
Pointing with her gaze at the vile pool of redness surrounding them, she told him this was a special marinate she had brewed. She’d make them soak in it until its flavor seeped into their pores. When the time was right, she and her pet would be having them for dinner. She licked her lips, snapped her head back, and cackled.
Swimming at death’s door, Steve looked at Pete and Pete looked at him. Steve could tell from his horrified expression she had recited the same story to his brother. They swam with difficulty to each other and held each other for courage. There situation was worse than dire, bleaker than bleak. So this was how Hell felt like?
But no matter how bad things got, one thing was unequivocally certain. Their connection would never be broken. United they were born, united they’d fight, and by God, united they’d die.
The End
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©2010, Giovanna Lagana. All Rights Reserved.
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