A Wicked Beginning (51 page)

“Hey, Tyson, put some clothes on.”

Cam whirled. Where did that come from? The sound of insistent barking, coupled with aggressive snarls came from somewhere. Where the hell did it come from? And who was it? It must be Mano and Severe. Still, he could not see a thing.

“We’ve got the dreamling cornered over here. Do you want to get your ass over here and take care of your business or what?”

“I can’t s-s-see you!” Cam yelled. “Where are you?”

“Open your eyes.”

“They are open. All I can s-s-see is s-s-snow and ice,” Cam said through chattering teeth.

“Feeling pretty good about yourself, huh?”

“N-n-not really, n-n-no…” Cam’s teeth were clattering wildly of their own volition, and his body was in full-on, uncontrollable, quaking shivers. “I b-b-blew it with Ch-Ch-Chérie.”

A wildcat snarl followed by more barking pierced the emptiness.

“You can sort that out later, bro. This dreamling is about to take off Severe’s muzzle. I’m not going to be very happy if that happens because you were feeling sorry for yourself. Now man up and get over here.”

“F-f-fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you, too. Get over here! We can’t hold it much longer.”

Cam heard another snarl followed by a shrill yip and a whimper.

“Shit, Tyson, get your ass in gear,” Mano bellowed. “I don’t want to get a new dog. I like this one just fine.”

Bewildered and confused, Cam swirled in a circle, trying to discern where the sound was coming from. When he still couldn’t see anything, he started to get mad. “This is
my
dream, goddamn it.” Anger started to build in his belly. It felt like a furnace, warming him from the inside out. The more he whirled and saw only stark white, the madder he got until he was enraged. The more enraged he got, the hotter he felt. This was good, right? Nothing wrong with feeling pissed; it’s how you used it that counted on your score card.

He looked down to see steam billowing off his skin, now pink with heat. The ice and snow around his feet was melting. Still, he could only see about a foot in front of him. This stoked his frustration, making him even angrier. He heard relentless barking, barking, barking and ferocious snarls. He did
not
like feeling helpless. In fact, he hated that feeling. There was always
something
that you could do in a situation, right?

As the anger built, he started to feel more powerful. He
was
a capable man. He
was
a man of integrity.
Just quit with the wimp shit and deal.
The snow continued to melt, revealing a large twisted branch. He picked it up, hefted it up and down in his hand a couple of times, torqued his arm, and hurled the dried wood in the direction of the snarling beast.

“Ow, shit, Tyson, you just clocked me in the head.”

“Sorry, man. At least I know where you are now.”

“Well, get yourself over here then. I’ve done my job, now you do yours.”

The ice was melting faster and faster, forming rivulets, streams, and a whole lot of mud. Cam tried to orient himself in the landscape which was rapidly being revealed. Still the same jagged dreamscape…lots of limestone, check. Spikey devil branches…check…
Lots of steaming mud and pools of water – that was a new added feature,
Cam thought with a wry smile. He peered in the direction he had heard the sounds. There, right over there, were Mano and Severe standing below a crooked tree with the most frightening creature Cam had ever beheld. Cam raced over to the tree, the now boiling hot mud splattering his legs and hips.

“Took you long enough,” Mano said without looking back. He flicked his eyes at Cam. “Ah, Jesus, bro, put some damn clothes on! You’re hanging out all over the place.” He was about eight-feet-tall in this dream, wielding a long, polished branch painted with symbols. Leather strips tied to dried, six-inch long claws dangled from the end of the branch. Standing there with his horn-bedecked head, his writhing tattoos, thrusting the beefy stick like a weapon, he looked demonic.

Cam looked down at his unclothed body. He realized that he didn’t really know how to manifest clothing in a dream. “Yeah, well, fuck you, I had things to do. It wasn’t exactly easy to get here.”

“Yeah, your head is a twisted mess, bro. I’m surprised you found your way.”

“Speak for yourself, man. You’re no saint either.”

They both shot murderous looks at one another, and then looked up at the beast that Severe was holding at bay with yips, growls, and lunges. The creature looked like it had once been beautiful, majestic even. About 12-feet long, from the tip of its nose to the end of its short tail, its gold, brown, and charcoal dappled fur was matted and dull. Its head looked misshapen, as if the skin was melting off of its face. Its dagger sharp claws and fangs looked like they’d just had been honed on an Arkansas sharpening stone. The beast’s dazzling gold-orange eyes looked both terrifying and terrified as it howled and snarled at Severe. A chunk of fur and flesh hung from its side, revealing gory muscle and sinew. Taking in Severe’s bloody muzzle, Cam figured the mutt had done some damage before she took the hit.

Funny, the creature’s big enough to take out both Mano and Severe with one slap. I wonder why it allowed itself to be cornered,
Cam thought.
Was it waiting for him?
And what happened to it that it looks like such a wreck?
He gazed up at the creature, considering. A wave of compassion rolled over him as he stared. The beast’s movements were jerky and at times hesitant as it tried to swipe the dog with its long claws. Cam realized that he should feel afraid, but instead he wanted to pet the matted fur and nurse it back to health.

As if sensing Cam’s regard, the beast focused its attention on Cam. So much for the wave of compassion; once the creature’s eyes met Cam’s and invasive, probing waves of heat began to assault his body, he felt that same terror as in the woods before the sweat lodge.

Mano tossed the painted branch to Cam. “Here, bro. The game’s all yours now.”

Cam held the stick in front of him, calling, “What the fuck do I do with this?”

“You’re a smart man, Cam. Figure it out. Severe and I are done here.” Mano patted his thigh and called to the dog, “Come here, girl…you’re a good girl. To heel. Let’s go.”

“Hey, where are you
going?” Cam yelled at Manos retreating back.

“We’re done, bro. I’m beat. Gotta go take care of me and my mutt.” He disappeared into the dreamscape.

“Wait! I might need help!” Cam’s belly was full of shivers and fright as the beast continued with its relentless probing. He felt weird stirrings in his stomach, like someone had his fingers in his guts, and was getting ready to scoop them out. This made him want to puke. He felt pushing in his pelvis, making his loins ache. He white-knuckled the stick as he experienced savage jabs up his spinal column, like each bone was being tested from the inside for strength and durability. “Holy fuck,” he managed to squeeze out through clenched teeth.

The beast stopped its energetic probes and stared at Cam, its lips and nose curled back, its tongue extended slightly, and its head lifted, taking in Cam’s scent. Satisfied with what it had smelled, it leapt down out of the tree. Cam started to back away, but the dreamling swiped his leg, the same leg that he had clawed in the bathroom, how many weeks ago? It felt like decades. Cam toppled to the ground, screeching in pain. The star dreamling then snapped his immense diamond-sharp fangs around Cam’s shoulder and pecs, and began to tug. Impaled by the beast, yet still grasping the stick with his free hand, the leather bound claws clicking and clattering behind him, he was heaved and dragged along the ground by the dreamling.
Thank God for the mud,
he thought as he slid along the ground. “Where the fuck are you taking me? Why don’t you just finish me off here?” he bellowed.

They reached a clearing with a gnarled, dead tree in the middle. The tree’s trunk had big claw marks in it, making Cam wonder if it was a favorite hangout of the dreamling. “Is this your favorite spot, you big fuck?” he snarled. “Is this where you like to eat your picnic?” He was sweating from pain and shock, barely holding onto consciousness.

With its jaws firmly around Cam’s soggy, sodden, rag-like form, the dreamling lifted his front paws and placed them securely on a branch, flexed its hind quarters, and thrust into the tree. Cam felt his flesh tear as he was chucked into position. Placing him in the crook of the tree, the beast released his jaw, put one of its massive paws on Cam’s chest, and began to lick at Cam’s wounds.
Probably a taste test,
Cam thought weakly. It freaked him to think of being aware while being eaten.

The huge raspy tongue stung as it slid along Cam’s bloodied flesh. “This isn’t helping,” Cam managed to squeak. The stick hung limply from Cam’s fingers. He gripped it feebly and gave it a small shake, causing the dangling claws to make a few clicks and snaps. In his delirium, the sound seemed amusing, causing Cam to chuckle.
Cameron Delaney Tyson’s death rattle…thanks, Mano.

The beast stopped licking and got his muzzle up in Cam’s face. It made chuffing breaths in Cam’s nostrils; the putrid, rank smell of its foul breath mixed with blood causing Cam to dry heave. When the heaves had stopped, his eyes were watering, his body was in agonizing pain, and he didn’t have a clue what to do. The only thing he could think to do was yell. “What the fuck do you want with me? What did I ever do to you? Just finish me the fuck off!” He pushed and clawed at the beast’s neck and shoulders, but seemed to be as effective as a dandelion puff swirling around the creature’s nose. Cam’s eyes squeezed shut as he twisted back and forth, with his hands clamped around the beast’s fur. When he opened them, he jacked back in alarm. The face of his goddamned, fucking father was looking down at him from the place where the dreamlings head had been a few moments ago. First Angela, with her ‘snake with a face’ appearance, now his father - he must be going nuts.

Cam felt a surge of rage and hatred pump into his gut. “You!” he snarled.

“What do you mean by that, you worthless little shit?” his father’s face roared.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Only in body, my boy…you keep me alive. It’s kind of cool actually. I get to live through you and your honeys.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“It means just that, kiddo. I may have died, but I still get to live through you. I’m glued to you through your foul temper. When you get pissed, I’m pissed. When you fuck, I fuck.”

Cam felt repelled and sickened hearing these words. “Well, I have a reason to be pissed. And I don’t fuck any more. I’ve learned that I have a heart. No thanks to you.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s getting a little harder to tune in.”

Cam’s mind started to race now.
The dreamling was his father tracking him from the dead? How could he conquer it? Hell, he still didn’t even believe in shit like this. What the fuck was he going to do?

“Pretty weak hit you gave me when you left me,” his father continued. “Your mom was hysterical. I had to slap her around to get her to calm down.”

Hearing that, Cam became speechless. He was utterly paralyzed, filled with frenzy and fury and impotent action. How could he fight this apparition? Forgiveness? How do you forgive? Acceptance? How do you accept? Rage and fight? That hadn’t worked so far. Believing that the father in his head could somehow change…could somehow come up with a little mercy or kindness? Not in this lifetime. Probably not in the next either. But then a trickle of insight came to him. It didn’t matter what his father did or didn’t do. He was an asshole when he lived, but that wasn’t really Cam’s problem anymore. What
was
his problem was that he was an asshole in death, fixed in place in Cam’s mind. Cam was way attached to the memory of his father. He was as obsessed as Angela was. He
needed
to see his dad in this way in order to define his own life. It gave him something to fight against, to prove that he was not his father’s son. It gave him something to wallow in and berate himself when he was convinced that he was his father’s son. He clung to this memory and used it like a sword to goad him through life. In truth, though, his dad was just a seed…a seed planted in the soil of his mom that had allowed an egg to form into a human and give birth to him, Cameron Delaney Tyson.
God rest his soul. Let him go, Tyson. You don’t need to define yourself this way any longer. You don’t need to cling to his memory, sucking it for all your life like it’s your mama’s tit.

He took the face of his father between his hands, looked into those despicable eyes, and spoke. “Goodbye, Dad. It’s been real.” Then he kissed him full on the lips, pouring his tender heart into the kiss. When he pulled back, the face of the dreamling was staring at him with soft, golden eyes. Its head was no longer deformed, its pelt was glossy, and its torn flesh was mended. It looked magnificent again as it gazed at Cam, making soft woofing growl-like sounds.

“You aren’t really my dad, are you? But then what the hell are you?” The creature started to dissolve. Its big soft forepaws were sinking into Cam’s chest. The weight of its belly and torso began to melt inside of Cam’s heart, lungs, and pelvis. Its powerful limbs spread into Cam’s arms and legs and softened, then melted inside of Cam. The colossal head was the last to go. The massive weight pressed down on Cam’s face causing him to feel smothered for a few, and then it eased into Cam with a sensuous, pleasurable sensation that spread throughout his face like liquefied honey. As the last of the creature disappeared, Cam smiled, thinking,
Oh…you’re me.