Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves (21 page)

“
What kind of help?” asked
Derek, his face melting in to a suspicious glare.

“
The kind of help you find
in a world like this. You know changed, mutated, maybe even scary,
but on our side, assisting us, fighting alongside of us. Do you
think you guys can handle that?”

They exchanged a second
flurry of glances between them. Then they were whispering amongst
themselves so low Elena could not make out what they were
saying.

“
We’re not sure, to be
honest,” admitted Derek after a time. “Things in this place… well,
they’re usually not too nice, you know?”

Anthony chortled. “Yeah, I
can see what you mean. How about you meet the humans among us
first? Maybe that will help cushion the blow.” The use of the word
“human” made them frown a bit deeper.

Kimberly even took a half
step back.

An uneasy quiet befell
them and, for a second, Elena was sure they were going to bolt. She
could see it in their body language.

Her brother just waited
for them to reply, gesturing a few times for them to
answer.

They stayed silent, too
shocked to know what to do, frightened out of their
minds.

“
Ok,” said Anthony too
loud in such quiet.

It made all three of them
flinch.

Again, he put his hands
out, palms up. “How about you meet one of my sisters first? We’ll
do this kinda slow. You know, at a pace you guys can handle and not
get all weirded-out over. Is that ok?”

Both of the girls did not
move a muscle, but Derek nodded in a jerky, reptilian-like fashion
filled with stress and agitation. It seemed like he poised himself
upon the balls of his feet, about to run.

No, don’t go!
thought Elena when her brother spoke again and
broke her concentration.

“
Good.” Anthony motioned
toward the general area where she stood with Sophie and Mikalah.
“Elena, come down here and meet these nice people! I want them to
see something weird, so they won’t be all shocked and afraid when
they meet the Fist.”

You butt crack!
she raged inside.

Ahead in the intersection,
the three newcomers let out bursts of nervous laughter.

Elena came forward with
every intention of socking her brother upside the head.

*****

She could not wait any
longer!

She was thinking crazy as
the icy breeze flowed around her the dark skin of her cheeks. There
would be no other opportunity, no other chance to get free of the
garage that had become her prison over the course of the past few
days. She had to get out. She had to make a run for it. She had to
take that chance, because she had no more food. She had nothing
left. She had passed the point of no return already. She knew this
within minutes after she awoke to the bright rays of the sun on her
face.

I have no
choice!

She had lain there in the
tangled pile of her homemade bed. At first, she was not been sure
was happening. She could not figure out why the temperature around
her had warmed or why she had been able to see within the garage
that early in the morning. Why was there no longer a thundering
wind?

She had sat up squinting,
rubbing the sleep from her eyes, grossed out by the amount of crust
she had to flake off her eyelids before she could see.
I must have had runny eyes all night,
yuck!

That was when she realized
it was sunlight, the actual rays of the sun shining down, through
the window of the door and onto where she slept.
The Sun!
she had thought
with joy and bound to her feet, rushing over to the door for a
better look. She had been unable to stop herself from smiling at
what she saw outside. Everything was white. The purest almost
incandescent white she had ever laid eyes on. It was smooth and
pristine, unblemished, a deep blanket of fallen snow, ubiquitous
about the lay of the land.

Even from where she had
stood, she could see it had gathered alongside the garage, up three
and a half feet high about the entire outer wall. For the second
time in as many days, she thanked her lucky stars the door opened
inward and not the other way around. Otherwise, it might have taken
her hours of pushing and shoving to squeeze her way out.
Out?
it came to her like
a whisper in her head.
Yeah, out! You need
to get out of here. You need food!
She had
cursed the slowness with which her mind was working earlier that
morning. Of course, she would have to leave! This was, after all,
what she had been waiting for, a break in the weather.
The storm had to end, right?
Now, it had, so what else would there be for her to do but
leave?

There was nothing
else…

She had walked with a
purpose to the mournful box of energy bars. It showed all the signs
of her abuse over the past days as she had agonized over how many
of them she could eat. She had lost count how many times she had
picked up the box and rummaged through it. Sometimes she was rough,
sometimes not. But, she was always counting, calculating,
wondering, worrying, counting, figuring, anxious and finally
praying. It had gone on and on. Until that morning, she had peered
into the box at the last six bars, knowing full well that after
they were gone there would be nothing to eat.

She had gazed at the door.
She stared at the broad strokes of light beaming through the
window. It shone upon the myriad of pillows she had sewn into being
on that first frightening day. Once the energy bars were gone, she
would have no choice. She would have to leave or starve to
death.

She had glanced back in
the box.

One, two, three, four,
five, six – only six left, food until tonight and then nothing for
tomorrow morning. She had felt an ominous weight building upon her
shoulders. Her anxiety skyrocket and she immediately felt a twinge
in her lower abdomen, the urge pee hitting her almost as
hard.

Ah, the mornings!
she complained and put the box on her bedding,
striding over to the plastic container she had been using to
relieve herself. She had steeled herself against the impending
stink, cracking open the lid. She stared in revulsion at the nasty
mixture she had deposited there in the hours and days she had lived
in the garage.

Just get it over with,
Marianna!

She willed herself to pull
down her jeans and panties, groaning at the smell of herself and
the sorry state of her clothes. She bore down and made herself
urinate with greater force (and higher volume) than she would have
if she had just let it come out on its' own. She tried with all her
might not to breathe as she did so.

Get this shit over
with!

She wiped herself with one
of the body shop rags she had found earlier, grimacing at the
coarse fibers scratching against her tender parts.

I swear to God that I am
going to take a two-hour bath the instant after I take a one-hour
shower at the first opportunity I get. This shit freakin’ stinks! I
freakin’ stink! This whole fucking place freakin’
stinks!

Somehow the smell, the
frustration, the isolation – it had got to her, galvanized her
will. She buttoned up quick, straightened her clothes and walked
over to the bowl that held her fresh water. She washed the grime
from her face and then brushed her teeth as well as she could
manage with her index finger.

A minute later, she had
set upon the box of energy bars. Alongside some more melted snow,
she had poured into the smallest bowl she possessed. She had eaten
all her remaining food. Her decision made, her actions had made her
choice final.

She would
have
to
leave…

…
That had been two hours
ago.

And still, she had not
left. She stood there with both tarps draped over her small
four-foot, ten-inch form. She had folded and wrapped them to her
against the cold. She was standing with the door to the garage wide
open, feeling the cold breeze against the skin of her face. Her
eyes darted to the left and right for the umpteenth time. Every now
and again, they settled on the strange looking plants poking
through the drifts. Or, she would gaze at the odd angled trees that
looked like they had emerged straight from someone’s nightmare.
Even from the doorway, their long, knife-like leaves did not seem
right to her, they did not stir in the mild wind. They did not grow
from the smaller twigs and branches of the tree. They grew out at
all angles. It did not seem right to her.

She looked away from it,
listening as intent as she could. All the while, the landscape
continued to come to life as the sun shone down and warmed the
world. She could hear the calls of birds and animals she could
place in her mind’s eyes. But, there were others she could not. One
sounded like a bird, only it called with a mysterious timbre as if
it issued forth from something fleshier and much less firm than a
beak.

She listened as the sound
and the creature - whatever it was - drifted away. She noticed as
the tops of the trees, whether familiar or not, began to stir with
what appeared to be an ever-increasing wind. Even though, she had
stood there with the door open, watching for no more than fifteen
minutes or so. She was certain that the air was churning a bit more
than it had when she had first opened the portal intent upon
leaving.

Instead, though, she had
stopped in her tracks to gaze and to hear what was going on in this
new place.

Come on, girl, get your
skinny ass in gear!

She shook off her
inactivity, kicking at some of the snow that came up to her waist.
She wondered if she could even walk through the stuff.

“
Come on, there is nothing
left for you here!” she mumbled under her breath. She looked around
again, taking a deep breath as she did so. Nothing had changed. The
world was still covered in the leavings of winter and she was still
far, far from her home. Nothing had changed, except now she had no
way to nourish herself.

There is no
food!

With a step that felt more
confident than she had anticipated, she pushed into the snow. To
step up and out of it, she had to use every bit of strength she had
in her small legs. When she took the second step, she emerged from
the threshold of the garage, trying to marshal her courage. But, it
was official, she was outside for the first time since she had
entered the Melded World four days prior. Back when she had been
intent on finding a pot for her mother that had never been in there
in the first place.

She smiled for a moment.
It was fleeting, internalized, a tiny milestone come and gone. She
push-stepped again and then again, enjoying the feel of the sun on
her face, unimpeded, direct. It felt good to feel the fluffy,
crunchy snow beneath her feet. She steeled her mind on avoiding
anything that appeared menacing or that she did not remember seeing
before. Once again, her skills as an experience camper kicked into
gear.

She almost made it a
half-mile before she heard it. A sound she dreaded to hear again,
especially out in the open without any means of protection.
Frantic, she turned about, wild with indecision. She was too far
from the garage. It was too far away.

And
it
was too close.

Then it came
again.

The squishy-squeal of the
squirrel-pig-thing resounded in her ears.

There was no doubt it was
coming straight for her through the forest. Although she could not
see it yet, she could hear it.

It was coming
fast!

~~~~~~~<<<
ᴥ
>>>~~~~~~~

~ Interlude ~

The Angel

Day Four, Sunday, At the
Same Time…

Arrayed in a long arch,
each of them was ten feet from the next. Four of their number was
robed in black, cowls drawn over the tops of their faces, their
features hidden underneath. Their polished boots shining in the wan
sunlight poked out from underneath the hems of their long
garments.

The last of their group,
in the center, was not robed at all. Instead, he wore the usual
studded-leather armor he always wore when in the field. He had on a
heavy belt about his waist, boots were knee-high – black - and made
for rough riding, or even rougher combat. He carried no sword this
day. Only a pair of daggers, sheathed at both sides, and a long
riding cape of crimson felt, lined. It was thick enough to ward
against the cold, should he need it. In the wane angular light of
the morning sun, he did not.

From afar he could be
mistaken for a man, a human man. Upon closer inspection, he was
not. When one realized the shaped of his skull was more like that
of a wolf’s and hair, black as night, covered almost all his body,
the distinction was obvious. This dark fur was offset by the bright
red of his skin, which shone underneath his hair where it was thin
or was missing altogether. This was where scars of many a battle
etched his person, wounds he had endured over the many centuries of
his life. He wore them proud as if they alone denoted his exalted
rank. Standing, he was just over six feet tall, he had both of his
hands above his head.