The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (104 page)

They must have fallen or
dragged themselves over the ground. They’re lying before the door
begging for me to open it. Oh, that means they’re hurt! They can’t
walk! What am I going to do?

She glanced around
frantically, looking for something she could use to drag the person
inside, not really thinking all she had to do was use her hands.
The thought of another person being here with her in this bleak,
ice-cold place was so unnerving, so surprising, she blanked for a
few seconds. Her mind became a jumble of thought, tangled and
confused. She searched over her meager belongings with her eyes,
trying to figure out what she could do.

Again, came the
tap-scratches from the other side of the door. They seemed to snap
from her confusion. She stared at the door, her eyes as wide as
saucers.

“
Ok, ok, I’m coming,” she
said aloud. Her voice sounded strange in her ears, since she hadn’t
spoken above a whisper for hours and hours. “Don’t worry! I’m gonna
help you! I’m gonna get you out of that cold, I
promise!”

She stepped the rest of
the way to the door, her hand resting upon the doorknob, looking
through the glass as she pushed aside the thin curtain hanging on
the inside. Expecting to see a pair of legs sticking out away from
the door as would be the case if someone were lying prone upon the
ground before it. She saw nothing. Nothing, but snow, drifted
nearly two and a half feet deep, everywhere as far as the eye could
see – which wasn’t all that far.

Maybe they were sitting up
against the door.

She listened some more,
straining her eyes as she tried to get the slightest glimpse of the
person outside.

Thank god the door opened
inward
, she sighed.
I wouldn’t be able to budge the door an inch if opened the
other way.

Then, she heard the person
breathe, a great expulsion of air as if they were trying
desperately to say something to her, but didn’t have the strength
to make themselves understood.

“
I’m coming!” she
exclaimed, fumbling with the locking mechanism. She yanked open the
door the moment she’d unlocked it, wide, looking into the face of
the only other living person she had seen in this frozen, hellish
place in over three days.

Only…

…
It wasn’t human. Its’
face was something out of a nightmare.

It was big, larger than
the human form she had expected to see, about the size of a prized
hog one would see at your typical county fair. It came from resting
against the garage, wheeling to face her. It was long and thick of
body with stout, short, well-muscled legs, easily the girth and
weight of two full-grown men. Yet, unlike a prized hog, this
thing
had a long tail,
bristling with the coarsest of hair, and a very squirrel-like head.
Although,
this
squirrel-ish head was sprouting a four-inch snout and even
longer tusks dripping with saliva. Its’ coat was just as coarse and
thorny as its tail, a dark chestnut, speckled with uneven
black.

From where she stood with
the wind howling behind it, the landscape in the grip of a howling
blizzard, she could smell it. It was a putrid sweetness not unlike
butchered meat that had just turned, still bloody, but unmistakably
rancid.

The moment the portal
opened the beast rounded on her. Its’ eyes met hers, beady, greedy
with hunger. It didn’t bother to breathe a second time. It didn’t
waste a single second.

It charged.

She had a split second to
comprehend this wasn’t a person.

No, this was some sort of
animal, a horrendous beast, boasting the smell of flesh in the
throes of decay. An animal that was about to hurt her badly. If
she’d waited any longer, she would’ve been slain, never able to
discover how she was going to come about some food. It wouldn’t
have mattered if her stomach had ached or her head was beginning to
hurt. It wouldn’t have mattered if every time she swallowed a hunk
of an energy bar, the roof of her mouth pained her. None of it
would have been important. She would’ve died, eviscerated and eaten
by this half-pig, half-squirrel
thing
. That would have been the end
of Marianna White Horse.

Instead, she reared back
and slammed the door. Her fingers moved as fast as she could to
engage the thumb lock as the beast hammered itself into the other
side of the door. The force of the impact threw her back and onto
her butt with only the latching phalange keeping the door
shut.

Expecting the door to
crumble beneath the weight and strength of the creature, she
covered her face with her arms to protect herself, but then peered
through them when the door held. She realized, as her eyes
refocused. The door wasn’t made of wood. It merely looked like it
had been manufactured with such material. When the beast smashed
into it, it didn’t splinter and shatter as wood most definitely
would’ve done.

No, it bent.

Metal!
she heard her mind shriek. Without another thought, she
leaped to her feet and rushed to the door. Her fingers fiddled with
the thumb lock just as the creature hit the door for a second time
as hard as before, again knocking Marianna back. This time, though,
she maintained her footing. She rushed back toward the portal once
again when she saw there was a deadbolt about a foot and a half
higher than the doorknob with a simple finger-twist engaging
system.
Stupid ass, why don’t you pay
attention!?!
Her hand lashed out and in
one simple flick of her wrist, she locked the door just as
the
thing
seemed
to put it all of its weight against the door. The entire section of
the garage moved. The door, the door jam, even adjacent portions of
the wall bowed inward a few inches, the wooden siding groaning,
even the connecting nails squeaked in loud protest against the
tremendous weight.

Marianna used those few
seconds to twist the lock on the doorknob into place and then
stepped backward, her hands outward on either side her shaking, her
eyes wide with terror. She could hear its’ awful, hoarse breathing
as it continued to lean into the garage. The thought of its’
disgusting smell, made her retch as she looked around for something
to protect herself. But what did she have that could keep something
of that size away from her? A wooden spoon? A thick, dull needle? A
fucking fire log? What? What could she possibly wield that would
even slow the thing down if it got in, if it came after her? There
was no denying it was half-starved. It was obviously out of its
mind with hunger. It would rush her the moment it got in. What
would she do then? Spit on it?

The beast moved of a
sudden, walking along the wall on that particular side of the
garage. It applied its’ weight as it went, for the creaking and
moaning of the wood continued away from the door to her left all
the way down the structure until the wall came to end. When its’
weight came free of her sanctuary, it made the entire garage
shudder.

She strained her ears,
trying to catch any hint of what the
thing
might be doing, holding her
breath, because her own ragged inhalations were making it hard for
her catch any of its’ ambient noise. She tip-toed a few steps
toward the door. Her mind was focused on what she was
hearing.

Suddenly, she froze in
place, hearing something she couldn’t place. It was almost like
water running, but issued from something larger than your average
garden hose. Its’ volume garnered much more noise, louder than the
scream of the wind. As swiftly as she could without making any
noise, she moved toward the door, pulling aside the curtain
covering the glassed-framed upper portion.
It’s probably not glass
, came the
wayward thought. It had to be some sort of reinforced plastic.
Otherwise, it would’ve shattered from the impact with the
squirrely-pig-thing. There wasn’t a single crack on any of its’
surface.

She turned right, left,
hoping to catch a wink of the creature. At first, she couldn’t see
anything, but the blinding snow driven by the unyielding wind. A
moment later, she saw it again, just barely. It was down toward the
corner of the garage, milling about, sniffing at the ground, when
it unceremoniously lifted one of its’ hind legs and deposited a
copious amount of dark orange urine onto the wall and ground. The
sound she’d heard before, she heard once more. Even with her line
of sight severely askance from the beast’s position, its’ piss was
so hot it melted through the snow in an instant, sent a sizable
gout of steam up into the air. The storm took it away half a second
later.

She gagged at the sight,
thankful she couldn’t smell whatever the hell it had just spooged
all over the ground and her parent’s garage.

Sonofabitch, what the hell
is that thing?

She forced herself to
watch, wanting to be ready, should the
thing
try and get inside her
temporary home a second time.

Holy crap, what the shit
am I going to do now?
she thought, eyeing
the beast as it continued to paw at the ground, retracing some of
its steps, before doubling back on itself as if trying to remember
what it had been doing moments before.
Even if the storm stops and I can walk around looking for
food, how in the hell am I fend off something like that ugly fucker
out there?

Dammit, what is this
place?

A weird ululating call
sounded a heartbeat later, high-pitched, but loud. It broke her
train of thought. Her attention remained glued to the scene before
her, noticing the beast had stopped as well. It seemed to be
smelling at the air as if was catching the scent of something out
there, which seemed ridiculous in such ferocious winds.

Then, the beast bleated as
well, even louder - a mushy sort of squeal sounding somewhat like a
pig, but it was deeper in pitch, more throaty as if choked with
flem. It was the most unusual sound she’d ever heard. It made her
skin crawl. It was too unnatural, unbelonging of Earth.

A second later, the
thing
bounded off into
the storm at full tilt. Its’ massive muscles bulged and flexed as
it strode away faster than she imagined something of that bulk
could manage. It was gone in seconds, a fleeting nightmare in a
nightmarish world.

Marianna stood there,
having no idea what to do next. She watched where it had
disappeared into the swirling, stinging bite of the storm. Her eyes
followed its’ tracks. They moved back and forth from the edge of
the garage and off into a forest that shouldn’t have been there in
the place. This was supposed to have been a nice neighborhood with
nice, friendly neighbors and clean streets. Where had all of that
gone? Why was she no longer where she was supposed to be? How come
she’d been torn from her family, her brothers and sisters, her
mother, her father? What had she done to deserve this? Why was she
being cursed now? Hadn’t she always been a decent person? She knew
she hadn’t always been a saint or anything that upstanding or
magnanimous, but come on, really?

She watched to snow whip
about beyond the pane of safety glass, or whatever the hell it was
protecting her from the outside world. She watched and thought,
wondered and hoped. All the while, her stomach curled in her
abdomen, asking for more… just a little more… food.

Within five minutes, the
tracks were gone, entirely covered over by the nonstop will of the
storm. There was barely a trace the horrible
thing
had been there in the first
place.

I need to eat! What am I
going to do? I’m going to starve, if I don’t find food,
fast!

She stayed at the door,
gazing out into the blizzard for a long, long time.

The answer never
came.

Off in the distance, the
fell squirrel-pig squealed anew. Only vicious snarls
followed.

It was fighting. It had
to. It was famished.

~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼
}>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

Anger and Regret

Day Three, Saturday, 6:02
pm…