The two men huddled around a misshapen pile. A woman, with a fashion sense one century too late. She twitched.
“What should we do with ‘er?” the farmer said. He'd always enjoyed asking questions he knew the answer to.
Removing the cigarette from his mouth, the younger man thought aloud, “We should take her to a hospital. She’s freezing to death.”
They needed somewhere dry, warm, and hospitable. Somewhere that wasn’t this forest.
Revealing biceps that would rival those of Mr. Universe, the farmer slung the woman over his shoulders. They had a silent understanding with each other, despite having met earlier that day.
“You got quite the get up there, kid.” The farmer eyed the young man’s clothing as they got into the car.
“I suppose it’s a little too elegant for something like a hunting expedition, especially one out here in the middle of nowhere, but I didn’t intend to be caught in this kind of storm.” It was a regular black coat, but the comparison between the two men warranted the comment.
“Middle o’ nowhere is right! I bet a person other than this lady ain’t been in these parts for at least a couple hundred years.” He paused, and then looked again at the man. “But I wasn’t darn near dressed that well at ma own wedding.”
“John, don’t you live nearby?” It was more of a hope than a question.
“Can’t say that I do, it’s actually a lotta miles, why?”
“There probably isn’t a hospital for at least a couple hundred miles. This car probably won’t make it that far in weather like this.” The woman became a blurry photograph every few seconds. Still twitching.
“That woman is a little creepy, don’t you think?” The man kept his eyes on the road.
“Now Elliott, that ain’t no way to talk about a lady!” The farmer laughed, and slipped his hand into a weathered jacket to pull out an equally weathered case. As he put yet another cigarette in his mouth, he turned to check on the woman. He never lit the cigarette, and the rest of the ride was silent.
Elliott took his place and let ashes litter the wet concrete. He opened his eyes wide when he saw the large white mansion. The lights were on, and it illuminated the dark field it lay in.
“You’ve got a nice home,” the young man said, shutting the car off.
“Aw cummon, it ain’t that big.” His bitterness resounded in the word. “Well there’re enough rooms for the…” He paused, and glanced at the woman again. “…three of us. Just head up the stairs. The wife ain’t here anymore, so I won’t be needin’ it if you want it for another night’r two. I’ll head in and unlock.”
Elliott carried the woman into the house, taking the moment of solitude to curse his luck of company aloud.
Once the woman had been dried and placed in a bed, the two men shared their thoughts.
“Elliott, whuttaya think of that woman?”
“We’ll take her to the hospital at eight in the morning.” John tried to infiltrate a smarter mind, and failed.
“Well, I think she’s a creep, personally.” He took a sip of his beer, looking at Elliott through one eye. “I wouldn’t trust her one bit.” He was an honest man.
“Good night, John. We’ll wake up at around seven, and we should arrive at a hospital soon after.”
“I’ll be up with the sun, so don’tcha worry about me!” Elliott emptied his water, and lied down in bed.
Elliott led a former life as an officer, and his sneaking abilities were the best on the force. He approached the woman across the hall, the sound of the carpet rubbing against the air deafening in comparison. He sat down on the bed, and stared at her.
Her face stank of something vile, something she was guilty for. Elliott nearly vomited at the sight. She’d been to the seventh circle of hell and back. He inspected the body, everything normal until he reached the chin. He shot back down, reinspecting as if he’d missed something.
Elliott had seen corpses many times. He’d seen people die, he’d killed, and he’d been on death’s knell. Torture, ****, murder. None of it could compare.
Some people have this odd tendency to show their pasts in their faces. Elliott considered Zelda to be one of these people.
“Open your eyes.” Elliott wasn’t a talker, especially not to unconscious women, but something compelled him. “Open your eyes, woman.”
Her eyes opened, he could feel it. “Yes?” He nearly fell off the bed when he heard her speak. The voice could hardly be called human, more of a croak than anything else.
“What’s your name?” It was a formality, but one that he valued very much. Something about someone’s name would give him an idea of what they were, lessening the pain of a complete mystery. Even if he had to know them as something they weren’t.
“Zelda.” She opened her eyes fully, and he could feel her piercing through his skin with her vices.
“How did you get in that forest?” His officer tone, despite his efforts, was thick on his speech.
“Forest? What?”
“I found you in a forest, and brought you back here.”
“Oh. I don’t remember.” She frowned a little. “All I remember was picking flowers with my mommy, and then I woke up here.” Elliott had heard a lot of ridiculous stories in his day, but he’d never heard a grown woman claim to have picked flowers with her ‘mommy’ before getting caught in the middle of a forest unconscious. He still didn’t look at her.
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty three years old…Twelve when I had my last memory.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I just don’t remember things after that, until now.” The words seemed ridiculous to him, but he believed her. That cop’s intuition.
“Are you serious? Tell me what you remember then.” The words came out before Elliott had time to process them. He felt nervous, and shaky, and the gaze seemed to be burning through his skin. He felt them close, and felt her heart slow. He stood there for his mind’s eternity, making sure she was asleep. Was she tricking him?
He went back to his room.
When John awoke, it was six thirty in the morning. The house felt empty, as it had for the past twenty or so years since his wife had died. Elliott seemed to be asleep still, and the woman was probably still unconscious. He walked down the stairs quietly; trying not to awaken his guests, and then went to make breakfast in the kitchen. There wasn’t much there, since John was a hunter, but there was cereal and other everyday foods. As he loaded up his bowl with corn cereal, he felt something nagging at him. Something was unsafe.
Once outside, he followed his senses towards the car, and although the key had a hard time undoing the still frozen lock, he managed and got inside.
Once on the highway, the farmer said, “That place gives me the creeps.”
He drove into the sun.
Elliott woke up around seven thirty. He was still tired from the spook the last night had given him, but yawned with the satisfaction of a good night’s rest. Like he had the night before, he headed to the woman, and once again avoided looking at her. She sent chills down his spine. Did he really have to take this woman to the hospital?
He reached out to feel her face. His hand reeled back, like he’d been bitten by a venomous snake.
“Wake up.” “Wake up, Zelda.” She didn’t move. He needed to see her awake to bring him back to civility. He thought about leaving. He looked at her face for the first time, and shocked himself in surprise. Big gray eyes, like wells. “Wake up!” he yelled this time. He nudged her with his foot. If she didn’t wake up, he swore he’d do something insane. “Wake up!”
Her face was making him nauseous, and he held his flat stomach. “Get up woman.” His voice was weak, like his eyes. He pulled the gun from its holster. “Wake up!” His voice deafened the earth itself this time.
He started shaking and shivering. He felt hunted. “Wake up woman!” He was screaming, the gun shaking in his hand.
He kicked her, hard enough to bring the dead back to life. “Zelda, please, wake up!” Still trying to get a firm hold, he held the gun to her face. His muscles were strained to the point of popping out of his skin. He began to pull the trigger, contorting his face in exertion. He could feel the bullet in the clip eagerly awaiting its target.
He nearly vomited, and his face was smothered by sheets. The gun dropped out of his hand, falling to the floor. “Wake up Zelda!” He dragged himself over her motionless body towards the pistol, repeating the words in his head and aloud. He felt like he was wearing gloves, like his skin was dragging on him. His hands edged towards the gun, and his ears began to hurt from his own yells. Regaining strength, he picked up the gun and pushed it near the woman’s face. He screamed one last time, but his arms gave way again. The muscles in his body popped out of the skin, and he was red. Something blew in his arm, but he managed to squeeze the trigger. A blank.
His body collapsed. Not a blank.
The blood from his head was still boiling on the woman’s skin when she woke up.
“Oh god, what happened?” She looked at her hands, examining the entrails they were covered in. She didn’t think she was a killer. Then she saw the corpse on top of her. Her screams mixed with the echoes of the man’s. She shoved the headless form off of herself, and ran to the bathroom. Water and soap tried to cleanse her face. “I can’t believe this.” The blood soaked into her, and despite every attempt to rid herself of the stains, they resurfaced after just seconds.
“No way, this can’t be happening!” she bit, and scratched at the blood, but nothing would make it disappear. Each attack made it redder and darker on her pale skin.
She ran outside, crying. She was confused, a baby who had to be a big girl now. Her sprint slowed to a jog, her throat decimated by the cold winter air. She didn’t stop moving. Her breathing as she ran aimlessly became audible from miles away.
After an age of running, she stopped. Taking a breath, she looked to the sky.
“Stars!” she smiled tiredly at the northern sky, observing the many stars which gathered there that night. She wondered if there were more than usual.
She followed the brightest star for miles, hoping to hide herself behind its light. She walked limply, hunching over while her eyes focused on their target. Even past the limits of physical exhaustion, she did not stop moving. An otherwordly force was on her side.
The star brought her to a forest, empty and desolate. She walked for an immeasurable time, deep inside, until she felt she approached the center. It was too dark to see there, and the wind and rain in the forest would keep most people away.
She came to a patch of flowers, and laid down to regain her wits. Her thoughts tried to run from her latest experience, but this latest one was a different breed. She was John Henry, and this was the machine. If it killed her, so be it, she thought.
“Zelda, calm yourself. You’re fine. You’re fine, nothing’s happened.” She talked to herself for a little while. She thought she was finally clean, but it seemed each new experience, even out there in the forest, brought her back to the moment when she felt the red.
The solution dawned on her, but before that, she decided to recall her last memory before meeting the man.
“Zelda! Where were you? I was looking for you.”
“Mommy? I was at home. Getting ready,” Zelda had dressed extra-special for her mother’s surprise.
“So, we’re going somewhere special today.” The mother’s eyes glimmered.
“Where mommy where?” The grown woman lifted her child, and carried her to a field of colors, the golden sun reflecting in each petal and each drop of dew.
“Zelda, this garden is special. You can only pick one flower!”
“I’ll try to pick a good one mommy, promise.” She hugged her mother. “Come on, let’s get going!”
They picked flowers for a time, and then Zelda turned to her mother.
“Mom, look what I found! It’s a poppy! Papaver Somniferum. I was studying just like you told me too!” She smiled at her mother, looked into her eyes.
“Zelda, I never noticed that you had such beautiful eyes.”
Zelda fell asleep.
“What should we do with ‘er?” the farmer said. He'd always enjoyed asking questions he knew the answer to.
Removing the cigarette from his mouth, the younger man thought aloud, “We should take her to a hospital. She’s freezing to death.”
They needed somewhere dry, warm, and hospitable. Somewhere that wasn’t this forest.
Revealing biceps that would rival those of Mr. Universe, the farmer slung the woman over his shoulders. They had a silent understanding with each other, despite having met earlier that day.
“You got quite the get up there, kid.” The farmer eyed the young man’s clothing as they got into the car.
“I suppose it’s a little too elegant for something like a hunting expedition, especially one out here in the middle of nowhere, but I didn’t intend to be caught in this kind of storm.” It was a regular black coat, but the comparison between the two men warranted the comment.
“Middle o’ nowhere is right! I bet a person other than this lady ain’t been in these parts for at least a couple hundred years.” He paused, and then looked again at the man. “But I wasn’t darn near dressed that well at ma own wedding.”
“John, don’t you live nearby?” It was more of a hope than a question.
“Can’t say that I do, it’s actually a lotta miles, why?”
“There probably isn’t a hospital for at least a couple hundred miles. This car probably won’t make it that far in weather like this.” The woman became a blurry photograph every few seconds. Still twitching.
“That woman is a little creepy, don’t you think?” The man kept his eyes on the road.
“Now Elliott, that ain’t no way to talk about a lady!” The farmer laughed, and slipped his hand into a weathered jacket to pull out an equally weathered case. As he put yet another cigarette in his mouth, he turned to check on the woman. He never lit the cigarette, and the rest of the ride was silent.
Elliott took his place and let ashes litter the wet concrete. He opened his eyes wide when he saw the large white mansion. The lights were on, and it illuminated the dark field it lay in.
“You’ve got a nice home,” the young man said, shutting the car off.
“Aw cummon, it ain’t that big.” His bitterness resounded in the word. “Well there’re enough rooms for the…” He paused, and glanced at the woman again. “…three of us. Just head up the stairs. The wife ain’t here anymore, so I won’t be needin’ it if you want it for another night’r two. I’ll head in and unlock.”
Elliott carried the woman into the house, taking the moment of solitude to curse his luck of company aloud.
Once the woman had been dried and placed in a bed, the two men shared their thoughts.
“Elliott, whuttaya think of that woman?”
“We’ll take her to the hospital at eight in the morning.” John tried to infiltrate a smarter mind, and failed.
“Well, I think she’s a creep, personally.” He took a sip of his beer, looking at Elliott through one eye. “I wouldn’t trust her one bit.” He was an honest man.
“Good night, John. We’ll wake up at around seven, and we should arrive at a hospital soon after.”
“I’ll be up with the sun, so don’tcha worry about me!” Elliott emptied his water, and lied down in bed.
Elliott led a former life as an officer, and his sneaking abilities were the best on the force. He approached the woman across the hall, the sound of the carpet rubbing against the air deafening in comparison. He sat down on the bed, and stared at her.
Her face stank of something vile, something she was guilty for. Elliott nearly vomited at the sight. She’d been to the seventh circle of hell and back. He inspected the body, everything normal until he reached the chin. He shot back down, reinspecting as if he’d missed something.
Elliott had seen corpses many times. He’d seen people die, he’d killed, and he’d been on death’s knell. Torture, ****, murder. None of it could compare.
Some people have this odd tendency to show their pasts in their faces. Elliott considered Zelda to be one of these people.
“Open your eyes.” Elliott wasn’t a talker, especially not to unconscious women, but something compelled him. “Open your eyes, woman.”
Her eyes opened, he could feel it. “Yes?” He nearly fell off the bed when he heard her speak. The voice could hardly be called human, more of a croak than anything else.
“What’s your name?” It was a formality, but one that he valued very much. Something about someone’s name would give him an idea of what they were, lessening the pain of a complete mystery. Even if he had to know them as something they weren’t.
“Zelda.” She opened her eyes fully, and he could feel her piercing through his skin with her vices.
“How did you get in that forest?” His officer tone, despite his efforts, was thick on his speech.
“Forest? What?”
“I found you in a forest, and brought you back here.”
“Oh. I don’t remember.” She frowned a little. “All I remember was picking flowers with my mommy, and then I woke up here.” Elliott had heard a lot of ridiculous stories in his day, but he’d never heard a grown woman claim to have picked flowers with her ‘mommy’ before getting caught in the middle of a forest unconscious. He still didn’t look at her.
“How old are you?”
“I’m twenty three years old…Twelve when I had my last memory.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I just don’t remember things after that, until now.” The words seemed ridiculous to him, but he believed her. That cop’s intuition.
“Are you serious? Tell me what you remember then.” The words came out before Elliott had time to process them. He felt nervous, and shaky, and the gaze seemed to be burning through his skin. He felt them close, and felt her heart slow. He stood there for his mind’s eternity, making sure she was asleep. Was she tricking him?
He went back to his room.
When John awoke, it was six thirty in the morning. The house felt empty, as it had for the past twenty or so years since his wife had died. Elliott seemed to be asleep still, and the woman was probably still unconscious. He walked down the stairs quietly; trying not to awaken his guests, and then went to make breakfast in the kitchen. There wasn’t much there, since John was a hunter, but there was cereal and other everyday foods. As he loaded up his bowl with corn cereal, he felt something nagging at him. Something was unsafe.
Once outside, he followed his senses towards the car, and although the key had a hard time undoing the still frozen lock, he managed and got inside.
Once on the highway, the farmer said, “That place gives me the creeps.”
He drove into the sun.
Elliott woke up around seven thirty. He was still tired from the spook the last night had given him, but yawned with the satisfaction of a good night’s rest. Like he had the night before, he headed to the woman, and once again avoided looking at her. She sent chills down his spine. Did he really have to take this woman to the hospital?
He reached out to feel her face. His hand reeled back, like he’d been bitten by a venomous snake.
“Wake up.” “Wake up, Zelda.” She didn’t move. He needed to see her awake to bring him back to civility. He thought about leaving. He looked at her face for the first time, and shocked himself in surprise. Big gray eyes, like wells. “Wake up!” he yelled this time. He nudged her with his foot. If she didn’t wake up, he swore he’d do something insane. “Wake up!”
Her face was making him nauseous, and he held his flat stomach. “Get up woman.” His voice was weak, like his eyes. He pulled the gun from its holster. “Wake up!” His voice deafened the earth itself this time.
He started shaking and shivering. He felt hunted. “Wake up woman!” He was screaming, the gun shaking in his hand.
He kicked her, hard enough to bring the dead back to life. “Zelda, please, wake up!” Still trying to get a firm hold, he held the gun to her face. His muscles were strained to the point of popping out of his skin. He began to pull the trigger, contorting his face in exertion. He could feel the bullet in the clip eagerly awaiting its target.
He nearly vomited, and his face was smothered by sheets. The gun dropped out of his hand, falling to the floor. “Wake up Zelda!” He dragged himself over her motionless body towards the pistol, repeating the words in his head and aloud. He felt like he was wearing gloves, like his skin was dragging on him. His hands edged towards the gun, and his ears began to hurt from his own yells. Regaining strength, he picked up the gun and pushed it near the woman’s face. He screamed one last time, but his arms gave way again. The muscles in his body popped out of the skin, and he was red. Something blew in his arm, but he managed to squeeze the trigger. A blank.
His body collapsed. Not a blank.
The blood from his head was still boiling on the woman’s skin when she woke up.
“Oh god, what happened?” She looked at her hands, examining the entrails they were covered in. She didn’t think she was a killer. Then she saw the corpse on top of her. Her screams mixed with the echoes of the man’s. She shoved the headless form off of herself, and ran to the bathroom. Water and soap tried to cleanse her face. “I can’t believe this.” The blood soaked into her, and despite every attempt to rid herself of the stains, they resurfaced after just seconds.
“No way, this can’t be happening!” she bit, and scratched at the blood, but nothing would make it disappear. Each attack made it redder and darker on her pale skin.
She ran outside, crying. She was confused, a baby who had to be a big girl now. Her sprint slowed to a jog, her throat decimated by the cold winter air. She didn’t stop moving. Her breathing as she ran aimlessly became audible from miles away.
After an age of running, she stopped. Taking a breath, she looked to the sky.
“Stars!” she smiled tiredly at the northern sky, observing the many stars which gathered there that night. She wondered if there were more than usual.
She followed the brightest star for miles, hoping to hide herself behind its light. She walked limply, hunching over while her eyes focused on their target. Even past the limits of physical exhaustion, she did not stop moving. An otherwordly force was on her side.
The star brought her to a forest, empty and desolate. She walked for an immeasurable time, deep inside, until she felt she approached the center. It was too dark to see there, and the wind and rain in the forest would keep most people away.
She came to a patch of flowers, and laid down to regain her wits. Her thoughts tried to run from her latest experience, but this latest one was a different breed. She was John Henry, and this was the machine. If it killed her, so be it, she thought.
“Zelda, calm yourself. You’re fine. You’re fine, nothing’s happened.” She talked to herself for a little while. She thought she was finally clean, but it seemed each new experience, even out there in the forest, brought her back to the moment when she felt the red.
The solution dawned on her, but before that, she decided to recall her last memory before meeting the man.
“Zelda! Where were you? I was looking for you.”
“Mommy? I was at home. Getting ready,” Zelda had dressed extra-special for her mother’s surprise.
“So, we’re going somewhere special today.” The mother’s eyes glimmered.
“Where mommy where?” The grown woman lifted her child, and carried her to a field of colors, the golden sun reflecting in each petal and each drop of dew.
“Zelda, this garden is special. You can only pick one flower!”
“I’ll try to pick a good one mommy, promise.” She hugged her mother. “Come on, let’s get going!”
They picked flowers for a time, and then Zelda turned to her mother.
“Mom, look what I found! It’s a poppy! Papaver Somniferum. I was studying just like you told me too!” She smiled at her mother, looked into her eyes.
“Zelda, I never noticed that you had such beautiful eyes.”
Zelda fell asleep.
