Blood Fugue (7 page)

Amy watched, still clothed.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Ready for what?’

He bent his knees and sprung up and out as far as he could. In mid air he piked and aimed straight downwards. He hit the water and was swallowed by its chill-shock. Keeping his body rigid and straight he let himself sink. When his momentum ceased and the current threatened to push him up, he swam down hard, pausing mid-stroke a couple of times to blow against pinched nostrils and equalise the pressure. Thirty feet down, he swam sideways and clung to the rocky wall of the spring.

It was dark but for the blurred forest light glimmering above. Chilled updrafts of spring water made him shiver. The darkness became too much for him long before he ran out of air. Kerrigan had no idea how far down the flooded shaft really went. What might be down there waiting to take a slimy hold of his ankle and draw him into eternal night?

He let go of the side and swam upward to the light. The halo of brightness above him grew larger as he approached and he made out a figure bending over the water. He broke the surface and heaved in a breath.

‘Jimmy, oh Jimmy.’ Amy was frantic. ‘Jesus honey, I thought you were drowning. I thought you weren’t gonna come back. Oh my God, don’t you do that to me. Don’t you ever do that again.’

He watched her from the water while his breathing settled, enjoying the sight of her vulnerability. Enjoying the idea that he’d scared her; affected her in some way other than sexual.

‘You wanted to know how deep it was,’ he said.

‘Don’t be a smartass.’

She was crying.

‘Get in with me.’

‘What?’

‘Get in with me. You won’t be disappointed, I promise. There’s no feeling like it.’

He held his hand out to her, not believing for a moment that she’d join him.

‘Come on. Please. You’ll love it.’

She took her clothes off with care. He watched as she released her full breasts and bared her rounded tummy. She removed everything, revealing her heavy hips and the minuscule triangular tuft between her legs. He didn’t know why he always expected her to be hairy but she wasn’t; there was hardly any hair at all. She was Rubenesque in her nudity, all dimples and pinkness. He would have preferred a hard-bodied girl ten years her junior, at least that was what he told himself, but every time he saw her weight and the imposing feminine presence it exuded, he grew so stiff he thought the skin of his prick would tear open.

Daintily, almost comically, Amy dipped her toe in, shivering. She lowered herself to the edge and slipped in with a gasp before swimming out to him, blowing a little as she came.

‘This is incredible,’ she panted. ‘It’s cold but it’s not cold. I can’t explain it. It’s like it fills you with energy.’

He was surprised how near that was to the truth. As she held him close to her, he realised it was arrogance to think that he could protect the wilderness, keep it for himself. Whether she knew it or not Amy was in a magical space, experiencing the power and rejuvenating qualities of the wellspring.

Her skin was still warm and everywhere her body touched his there was a slick sensuousness enhanced by the cool current. They kissed again, treading water. Her hand closed around his erection and it was his turn to gasp. He squeezed her to him and for a moment they sank below the water. In that cold womb they touched and turned until the need to breathe sent them upwards again.

Instinct overtook Kerrigan. They had to get out immediately. If they stayed a moment longer, they would taint the wellspring. He couldn’t allow that. He could not be the cause of such sacrilege.

‘Come on, Amy. We’re going to drown.’

‘Don’t be silly. You wanted me to come in.’

‘I know. But we can’t do — everything in the water.’

Without another word they both slipped to the edge and climbed out. The sun was well past its hottest time but there was enough brightness to keep them warm. There was no wind at all in the shelter of the wellspring’s clearing. Where the sun still lit the grass he lay down with her.

‘Do it like before, Jimmy.’

He felt a deep need; something unnatural, a perversity he couldn’t explain. It was like a thirst for something tasted in a previous life, a flavour he couldn’t quite recall.

‘I want you,’ he said.

‘Have me, then. Take everything you need.’

Her words were petrol to his flame. He hauled her over him with a strength that surprised them both and positioned her above himself. He forced her to squat, disappearing into her warmth with grave satisfaction. Her breasts hung down to touch his chest; the prize he truly desired. He seized one, forcing as much of it as he could into his mouth. He did not simply lick and chew, he sucked. Kerrigan sucked as if his very existence depended on what he found there. He drew hard enough to bruise her.

‘Oh yes, Jimmy.’

She moved above him and he was in the heaven of her. Then it came to him. That flavour. He tasted a liquid in his mouth. He had drawn fluid from deep inside her breast. He took it into him, feeding on her. The taste was sweet and rich. He drank Amy; drank her milk.

Chapter 7

The creature lived for the night.

It spread its limbs out into the darkness as though submerged in a frigid sea of pleasure. It sensed the life in all things that slumbered and it was drawn to them. Everywhere in the forest were sleeping creatures; hidden, curled, buried or roosting. The creature knew their vulnerability and was thrilled. It could take whatever it wanted.

And so it danced.

In silence between the trees it whirled and leapt, its tattered garments barely covering its ancient, emaciated frame. It crouched and crawled and pressed itself against the earth, the nourisher of all things, that abhorred the creature and could do nothing to stop it. The creature vaulted high above the tips of the pines, twisting and diving down again beneath the open sky to land, silent among the ferns.

It was monarch of the night kingdom; the usurper of all the sun could not touch.

When its dance was complete, it sank close to the ground once more and swept towards the dwellings of the town with no more noise than a shadow. Every living thing it passed drew away from it. The very air parted before its reviled lord.

Where the lights were, where men had built their houses of stone and wood it held less sway. Less but enough. And there was much sport to be had there.

Kerrigan woke to find himself lying fully clothed on his bed. The manuscript he’d been correcting was beside him along with the marker he’d failed to recap before falling asleep. Now there was a deep red stain on the coverlet and some of the pages were mashed where he’d rolled onto them. The bedside light was still on.

His conscious mind, rapidly returning, wondered what had woken him. His subconscious, still strong in those first few moments of waking, knew the answer. He wanted to sit up. The longer he lay still, the less likely it was he would be able to move. He wrestled with himself; told himself it was only indecision keeping him from moving, but his increasing heartbeat told another story. He couldn’t move for fear he’d make a sound. Someone was in the house.

If he didn’t make his move now, he’d lose the ability. Paralysis would take him over. Blood rushing faster in his ears, he reached for his chest and felt for the binder.

It wasn’t there.

Suddenly, he needed to piss like he’d held it in all day.

Christ, where had he put his binder? Why had he taken it off? Now he would have to reach for the bedside drawer and open it. They’d surely hear him then. Feeling like his joints were rusted beyond use, he stretched his left arm out towards the drawer.

Before his fingers made contact with the bare pine of the bedside table, the lights went off. All of them. He froze, mid stretch. Any noise he made would be louder in that darkness. His hand grew stiff. He was losing control; no longer able to make his body move the way he wanted it to.

Something was stopping him. Something close by.

‘I am here, James. Right here with you now.’

The voice was everywhere. Wasn’t it? Or was it only in his head?

‘I’m so near, I could touch you if I desired. I could touch you anywhere I wanted and then what would you do?’

He felt the weight then, same as always. It started on his stomach, a medicine ball rolling towards his chest, crushing the air out of him, constricting everything. Below it, he could not move. Not now, not ever. The weight rolled higher until it crushed his sternum. The breath went out of him and that was his last movement.

Limbs frozen. Air gone. Lungs crumpled.

He felt the initial contact against the ribs on his left side, not far below his armpit. It was warm and wet to begin with. A blunt, insistent pressure against his flesh, nuzzling his intercostal muscles but pressing inward, pressing hard, searching for an entry point. The skin of his chest went numb but Kerrigan knew what was happening to him; it was forcing its tube-like proboscis through a tear in his stretched epidermis, parting his muscles, widening the space between two ribs and burrowing deep.

He was screaming, sitting up in his bed and screaming with every molecule of air inside him. When he stopped he breathed in and screamed again.

‘Jesus, Jimmy. Jesus Christ, baby, what is it? What’s wrong?’

The light clicked on, and squinting into the sudden glare he saw Amy, naked, but holding the sheet to her chest. She hadn’t taken off her make up and her eyes were dark-ringed and wide, staring. Kerrigan clutched the side of his chest, squeezed his eyes shut, crushing the phantom sensations away. Soon he was rocking back and forth, crying.

‘Jimmy, talk to me, Goddamnit. Are you having a heart attack? Do you need me to call the doctor?’

He shook his head, still breathing hard.

‘Jimmy? What’s that?’

He looked where she was pointing at a large dark stain on the coverlet.

‘Jimmy, honey, I think you peed yourself. God.’ She swung her legs out of the bed. ‘Shit,’ she said, realising that she’d been lying in his piss. Grabbing her discarded clothes she ran for the bathroom and closed the door.

Kerrigan lay back against the headboard, too exhausted to move. The heat of his urine quickly faded and became cold. Goose bumps lifted on his arms and legs. Still, he couldn’t move. The urine gave off a sweet smell like honey flavoured puffed wheat. It smelled like the piss of a child.

Amy came back into the bedroom fully dressed.

‘You gonna be okay?’

He nodded.

‘Good because I gotta go now. I can’t sleep here — you know, like this. Sorry.’

She turned away. He heard her turn the key to unlock the door, heard the door slam behind her.

Knowing the door was still unlocked; that was what got Kerrigan out of bed. He ran naked to relock it. He knew she’d hear that clicking behind her as she walked to her car. The Honda’s engine started, screeching as she pulled away. As the noise of the engine faded, the silent howl of loneliness returned.

Back in the bedroom Kerrigan pulled the sheets and blankets from the bed. He took them to the washing machine and started a cycle straight away. In the kitchen he filled a bucket with hot water and took it and a cloth and some detergent spray back to the bed to wipe down the plastic mattress cover. He dried it and put fresh sheets on.

He couldn’t turn the lights off. Not now he was alone. He lay there touching the binder that always hung around his neck. From time to time he was sure he heard footsteps outside. But he prayed the laughter, the whispered manic laughter, was only his imagination.

When dawn came, Kerrigan was still awake. He had no recollection of the dream or what had woken him but when he saw light outside his window, he wept. Only then did he let go of his binder to find its shape imprinted into the flesh of his palm.

Chapter 8

Kerrigan groaned and looked up from the article he was writing.

He gazed out of the window, grasping for the perfect word. Nothing came. A cloud darkened the view. Kerrigan shivered and reached across to the bookshelf for his thesaurus. When he sat upright again, someone was outside. The sky darkened further. Frowning, Kerrigan checked his watch, before leaning towards the window. Beyond the front gate, in the middle of the dirt road that led to The Clearing, stood a dark-skinned, well-built teenager. The boy stared at the cabin, his eyes vacant. A breeze blew the boy’s hair across his eyes but he didn’t attempt to adjust it.

The inert kid looked familiar. Kerrigan couldn’t place him at first; just another young face, like so many that passed his cabin before entering the woods below Bear Mountain. His attention slipped from the article. Tutting, he saved the document and stood up. Buster raised his head for a moment and then went back to sleep, still curled tightly on his favourite chair. Kerrigan stroked him as he passed and Buster let out a growly purr, half pleased to be remembered, half grumbling at being disturbed.

‘You don’t know how good you’ve got it, cat.’

As Kerrigan neared the front door he recalled the kid was one of those who often walked or drove past in groups to party in the forest. He liked to see them enjoying themselves in the outdoors. As long as they didn’t litter or start fires, Kerrigan didn’t care what they did. Youngsters needed to get wild and where better than the woods to do it.