Ander - Part 4: Subchapter 18
18
Walking down that hallway was the longest journey Luke ever had to make in his short lifetime. He had fetched a candle from the kitchen, but it barely did anything to keep the shadows at bay. If anything, the feeble glow only seemed to imbue them with supernatural power, making them jump out from every corner and reach out to him with long, bony black fingers. He could hear Tim's footsteps following close behind, keeping pace, but that didn't make him feel any safer. It made him feel selfish.
Dad and Vee were still asleep upstairs, completely oblivious to what they were up to. But that was good. This was for the best.
Luke finally reached the dreaded door. There was a key lodged inside the keyhole, but it wasn't locked. Of course not. Why would Dad think to lock in their poor bedridden guest? That would be horribly rude now, wouldn't it?
He stopped, looking fixedly at the doorknob. Behind him, Tim stopped, too, no doubt waiting to see if his headstrong brother would break under the pressure and call off this whole sordid affair.
Luke took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned the knob with a rattle that seemed loud enough to wake the dead (or at least one drowsing Wolf). He winced as the door swung open with a creak, the soft candle glow only reaching as far as the table they had used to prop up the creature's long legs. Beyond that was a curving wall of pure shadow.
The cold, tingly hand of fear wrapped itself around Luke's heart and squeezed, just like Luke was squeezing down on the knife's handle. This wasn't like a pup's fear of the dark, where you knew there_probably_ wasn't anything hiding in here, waiting to jump up and grab you. This was real. There was something in here. He could hear its slow, methodical breathing, much softer than he would have expected.
Luke took a hesitant step forward, then another and another, banishing the darkness with his meagre little flame. The shadows retreated, revealing more and more of something Luke didn't really want to see. The white blankets, so innocent looking, hanging down from a bed that's gone unused for years, covering the body of the creature that had dared to hurt his little sister, and wouldn't hesitate to do much, much worse to his entire family if given the chance. Luke was sure of it.
Before Mom died, back when they all still lived in town, the night of Souls was Luke's favourite festival, partly because it took place at night, but mostly because you got to sit around a great big fire in the town square, eating and drinking until you popped, listening to scary stories until the early hours. Most of them were absolute bull pies, hastily thought up the night before by Foxes who had about as much talent telling stories as bullfrogs had singing hymns. But then Herden would step up, and everything would go quiet. The wiser parents would usher their little ones back inside to spare them the slew of inevitable nightmares (and themselves a week of restless nights comforting traumatized children who simply would not go back to sleep), and then he'd begin. Usually it would be about a foolish Fox sneaking off into the woods with the vixen of his dreams for some quality time. Back then, Luke had no idea what Herden meant by 'quality time', but the older kids would always grin and elbow each other in the ribs while the adults stood around and rolled their eyes with a smile. It didn't matter anyway, because the real story only started once the ditsy vixen heard a twig snap in the dark and the macho Fox went to investigate. Herden was always good at coming up with original terrors with which to terrify his protagonists (and his audience). One year it was a jilted ex-boyfriend with a meat cleaver, the next it was a rabid bear. One time it was even a monster he had made up completely, covered in scales and with a ridge of venomous spikes growing along its back, slithering through the woods on its belly like a snake looking for its next victim. All of those were scary, yes, but the one story that always stuck with Luke was the one about the Wolf: a creature not that different in build from a Fox, but huge and feral, twice as fast and ten times as strong. You couldn't reason with it, you couldn't plead with it. A Wolf didn't understand mercy or compassion. It only understood hunger. If a Wolf got you, you were as good as dead. It would tear into you like a mountain lion would tear into a defenceless lamb, and there wouldn't be anything you could do about it except watch it pull your guts out with its teeth and hope you died before you got a chance to feel any of it.
Quite the raconteur was ol' Herden.
As Luke skirted past the foot of the bed, his small circle of light moved with him, illuminating the bedside table. The water pitcher Tim had filled was still there, probably empty now, as well the plate that used to hold the sandwich Val had so lovingly made, despite her fear. The bread was still there, with only a single bite taken out of it, but all the meat was gone. It didn't surprise him.
Okay, Luke, you can do this. It's not a Fox lying in that bed, it's a Wolf. Completely different. That thing is no better than the monsters in Herden's stories, so just turn to the side a little. Once you see its face again, all those doubts will be blasted away. No need to feel guilty. It's pure evil. A 'monsterosity', as Tim would say. Hell, if it could, it would tear the skin right off your face. And then eat it. It would -
Urgh, in trying to talk himself out of the guilt he was feeling he only managed to scare himself senseless.
Luke adjusted the grip on his knife, then slowly turned on the spot, ready to face the embodiment of every fear in his heart, every dread, every...
It didn't look that bad, actually.
It was fast asleep, with the blankets pulled all the way up to its chin, its mouth slightly open. It was the exact same way Tim sometimes slept, except without the snoring.
But that's exactly what disturbed him most about Herden's story, wasn't it? The fact that these (up until recently) mythical creatures were so similar to Foxes. Sure, they were bigger, and sure, they had different colouring, but other than that? He might as well be looking at a fellow Fox right now. A fellow Fox that had rolled around in a pile of coal perhaps, but still a fellow Fox. What did that mean? Was he seeing part of himself in the monster? Or was he seeing part of the monster in himself?
He looked down at the knife in his hand, more of a kitchen tool than a weapon, but if he stuck it in just the right place, it should be more than enough to get the job done. If he did it properly, the Wolf wouldn't even have a chance to open his eye - its eye! Its! It would... be dead before it even knew it.
So do it, Luke. Just do it. What are you waiting for? Don't you remember what this thing did back at the river? Don't you remember the way it grabbed you? The way it yelled in your face? What would have happened if it didn't pass out right then and there? Would you still be alive right now? It might do the exact same thing to Valery next.
Luke slowly started to raise the knife above his head, wondering where he should... 'put' it. The neck? The head? The eye? The empty socket with the flappy lid, now covered in bandages? He had tried to close that lid out of respect when he first found this creature, so maybe now was the time to close it permanently. Luke had never killed anything bigger than a chicken his whole life, but if it was for his family, then he'd just have to do it. There was no choice to be made.
All right. He'd go for the empty eye. He'd count to three in his head, and then he'd plunge the blade deep into this thing's brain.
What if you miss?
He'd count to three, aim, and then plunge the blade deep into this thing's brain.
What if that doesn't kill it?
He'd count to three, aim, plunge the blade deep into this thing's brain, then _twist_it.
What if -
Shut up shut up shut up, just shut the hell up!!
He could still hear Tim standing right behind him, breathing softly, waiting anxiously for him to do something. Luke was thankful for his support, but the little blighter probably didn't think he'd actually do it, otherwise he wouldn't have come down here.
But he would. He had to. If he didn't... and something happened... then it would all be his fault. Here, right now, he had a chance to stop it. He didn't know what 'it' was, exactly, but he could feel it coming, just like he could feel the morning come just before the sun peeked over the Eastern horizon, slowly waking him up, preparing him for the rigours of the coming day. But this was exactly the opposite, what he was feeling right now. It was draining him, pulling him down. It made him feel afraid, so very, very afraid.
He was shaking, and not because it was a cold night. This thing... this thing that could walk and talk... this thing that had a name...
My name... is... BANNO!!
Could he really kill something as alive as this? As intelligent and aware? This wasn't a chicken, for crying out loud! It was a Wolf!
A Wolf that can kill you all, no problem.
Its teeth poked out from underneath its black lips, shockingly white in contrast, even in the dim light. All it would take was one bite, and those teeth would cut a Fox's head right off.
But would it? What if Dad was right? What if this thing really was just... different? What if it really was just trying to defend itself by the river, all hurt and confused?
But what about Val? Think of her. The way it stared at her, the way it grabbed hold and wouldn't let go, and then afterwards it just went on talking normally, like nothing had happened. It must have been perfectly aware of what was going on, but it's like it lives in a world slightly off from the rest of us. That means it's crazy. I don't know how I know this, but I do. What will happen once it gets healthy? What then?
Dad wants to talk to it again, find out where it's from, if it has friends and family, that kind of stuff. If I kill it now, then we'll never know. I'll_never know._
Know what?
Who the real monster was.
Luke slowly lowered the knife, only vaguely aware that he was crying, and that he had been crying for some time. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill this thing in its sleep, even if it was a monster, because that would make him an even greater monster, wouldn't it? He wished he could see the future. Then he'd be able to know if he was making the right choice. But, just like everyone else, he'd just have to wait and see.
He turned around, and there was Tim, looking at him in the pulsing, orange candle glow with his arms spread wide.
Luke went to him, the candle held out awkwardly to the side, and felt his little twin's arms wrap around him tightly in the dark. There was a burning lump in his throat, but he didn't want to cry. Only babies cried, and he didn't want to risk waking the Wolf, either, but the tears came regardless. They silently flowed form the corners of his eyes and quickly formed a hot, wet patch against Tim's shirt.
"It's okay, Luke," he whispered, sounding pretty teary himself. "I knew you'd never do something like that, so don't worry. Everything's fine. You'll see. Everything's going to be all right, just like Dad said."
But that's the thing. Luke didn't believe he had made the right decision, he didn't believe everything was fine, and he most certainly didn't believe everything was going to be all right.
He had made his decision, and he could already feel the weight of the coming days pressing down upon him, because every consequence would be his to bear from here on out.
Every. Last. One.
*
Banno couldn't afford to smile right now, since he didn't know where they might be looking, but he was grinning on the inside. His eye was closed, but he had no problem smelling the little ones' tears or hearing their muffled sniffles. For a minute there, he thought the brat would actually try it. Banno could smell the stress in his sweat like a cloying miasma. It spiked so many times he was surprised the other one didn't leap forward and wrestle the knife out of his brother's hands, but then again, each and every one of them was a coward.
"Come on, let's go," the littlest one whispered, and his brother sniffed in concurrence.
Banno risked a quick peek, raising his eyelid just a crack, and caught a glimpse of them standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint glow of a candle. He closed his eye and listened to them shut the door. Only then did he allow himself to smile for real.
Truly, he hasn't had this much fun in years.
*
Luke stared at the knife in his one hand, and the flickering candle in the other, at the wax slowly dripping down the side, going from clear to hazy white as it cooled. He'd have to slide the knife back into its block in the kitchen, set the candle back on the table, exactly where it was, blow it out, sneak back to bed in total darkness and then try to go to sleep like the coward he was. He wouldn't succeed, though. Oh no, he knew that already. He'd stay awake for hours, listening for the tell-tale creak of the stairs, signalling the beast's ascension. Dad said it was sick and lame, but Dad's no healer. Even if it really was sick and lame, that thing could probably walk on a pair of bloody bonestumps for days and not complain. Tim's room was first, his was second, then Valery, then Dad. Who would it go to first?
Tim had reached the edge of the candle glow, and was waiting for him to catch up. "Luke?" he whispered.
He didn't respond - just kept staring at the two objects in his hands, one that gave light, and one that would steal it away. Almost... talismanic, in a way.
"Luke, please! We're gonna get caught!"
After all this, was he really going to just give up? Just slink away with his tail between his legs?
"Luke?"
No matter what happened, his life would be different forever after this night, and he'd rather that difference fall on the end of the scale that would guarantee his family's safety, even if it meant his family would never look at him the same way again.
"Luke, what are you... No, don't!"
Luke turned around, opened the bedroom door and stepped back inside without hesitation, moving automatically, as if he had no conscious control over his limbs, like he was walking into a dream.
"Luke, stop it!" he could hear Tim whisper behind him, but even that felt dreamlike, far away and unimportant.
He was back at the Wolf's bedside, as if he had never left. It still had that serene look on its face. Maybe it was dreaming, too. It didn't matter. Soon both their dreams would end.
Luke raised the knife above his head...
"Luke, stop it!"
...aimed...
"Please oh gods!"
...and swung it down in a lethal arc, straight for the white bullseye of bandages around the brute's -
It reached up and closed its pitch black fingers around Luke's wrist, moving so fast he didn't even see the blankets shift aside. It was as if the shadows themselves had intervened on the monster's behalf.
The blade jittered above the bandages, the tip actually scraping against the white fabric, tapping out a scratchy melody of pure terror.
But its eye is still closed, Luke thought frantically, trying to make himself believe that he couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing because what he was seeing was impossible. Its eye is still closed, its eye is still closed...
The candle shook in his left hand, making the shadows dance. Light flickered across Banno's face from a hundred different angles in less than a second, and then his good eye did pop open, and it was aimed directly at Luke's own, freezing him in place, freezing the shadows in their dance of mad ecstasy, freezing even time itself.
By the gods, it's just like that time by the river, oh sweet merciful gods what have I done...?
He wanted to twist around and yell at Tim to go get Dad, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even blink. That solitary eye, even blacker than the rest of it, held him in place. Even as it sat up, Luke couldn't move. Even as it squeezed his wrist, Luke couldn't move. He could feel its black claws digging into his arm, on the verge of breaking the skin, forcing his fingers open. The knife fell into the creature's lap, and with it, the last shred of hope Luke had left. He was helpless now. Completely and totally helpless.
It bent down until they were face to face, its foul breath blowing against Luke's nose, the candle flame dimly reflected deep inside its crazy eye, staring and staring.
It raised one finger to its lips. "Ssshhh..." and with a single puff, it blew out the candle in Luke's hand.
Everything went black.
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