One Blink From Oblivion (4 page)

Lisa springs to her feet and unzips her windbreaker, “I feel like a steamed carrot in a Ziploc bag.” She goes down the line distributing hugs. Onan slowly rises and does the same.

After a heated and lengthy discussion over the meager accommodations eventually everyone settles. Brooke and Sam double up in the smallest bedroom next to the breakfast nook. The room was populated with a twin size bunk bed, a small-mirrored dresser across from it and a single wood armchair with vinyl trim set in the corner. The room was without closet, as were all of the bedrooms in the cabin. Zack and Vanessa claim the largest room since it contains a queen size bed that Zack deems more comfortable than any of the alternatives. Onan and Lisa settle for the remaining room with a standard bed and chest of drawers. Being too long for the sofa, Vinny opts for a recliner opposite it and further away from the fire. Max parks his bag next to the couch where he would later park himself come bedtime.

***

Vinny takes his key-chain out of his pant pocket and uses the attached bottle opener to pop the cap on another beer. He pries the cap loose and a small waterfall of foam cascades to the laminate floor. He drops his key-chain on the kitchen counter and makes no effort to clean up his spill. His stomach growls, dissatisfied with the five beers he’s already had to drink since their arrival an hour ago.

Looking in the direction of the girls –all of whom have huddled around the kitchen table for a robust and overdue round of gossip- he says, “What’s for dinner? I’m hungry enough to eat a dog’s ass.”

Brooke and Sam only shoot him an unpleasant look in response. The others ignore him altogether.

“Well guys it looks like it’s up to us. Come on Max, Let’s fire up that grill and find an animal to burn. These women here obviously don’t know their job is to serve the table, not sit at it jabbering,” unfazed by the dirty looks he’s garnered or the lack of support from his male counterparts Vinny continues his attempts to get a rise from the group. 

Max -sensing a severe tongue-lashing in Vinny’s immediate future- comes to his rescue, “Since you put it like that,” he replies as he nimbly springs up from his soon to be bed and grabs Vinny by the arm ushering him to the back porch.

The two of them share a look, then a laugh and finally get to work on the grill. At home Max has the benefit of Big Mama’s southern culinary mastery so has acquired little skill in the kitchen. Vinny lives a bachelor’s life and is no stranger to maneuvers around a patio grill. He takes point on the meat while Max locates a suitable lawn chair for stargazing.

A short time later, they’re joined grill-side by Brooke and Vanessa.

“Hey, just like old times,” Vinny slurs a bit after finishing off his eighth beer on an empty stomach.

Remembering his carnal knowledge of Vanessa Max thinks, ‘
not at all like old times’,
but says nothing.

             
Brooke glances at Vanessa to see what impact this statement has on her. She and Max’s short lived coupling was, after all, common knowledge. She expects to see embarrassment on Vanessa’s face but instead finds that Vanessa’s gaze is fixed on the grill or more precisely on the slightly bloody meat that sets upon it. She appears to have missed Vinny’s statement entirely.

It occurs to Brooke that in Vanessa’s current state the sight or smell of all that nearly raw meat might be making her a bit queasy and she says, “We’re going to take a quick walk down to the stream. Give a shout when the roast beast is ready.”

She takes Vanessa by the hand and starts off. As they move away from the grill and towards the tree line Vanessa remains transfixed by the meat and without watching where she’s going stumbles slightly. Brooke tightens her grip to keep Vanessa from falling. Vanessa lets out a little yelp and then a giggle; embarrassed by her clumsiness. The spell she was under seems to be broken and they again move in the direction of the woods.

              Remembering the odd animal in the woods when they’d arrived earlier Max begins to speak out in warning. He then remembers Zack saying that Cujo was tied up out back. He looks to where the mongrel should be and sees only a short red tether terminating in a wet frayed knot. ‘
So it was just that crazy mutt after all’,
he thinks with more than a modicum of relief. He decides that mental fatigue probably accounted for the oddities that surrounded his sighting of an ordinary -albeit nasty- dog. He had after all just been through a hellish night of earthquake, aftershocks and very little sleep.

He decides to say nothing except, “Be careful,” and with that, the two ladies disappear down the path and into the woods.

Vanessa’s locomotion resembles that of a penguin; only this one wears sneakers that make crunching sounds as they grind the gravel of the path beneath them.

              As Vinny looks on he slurs, “Uh oh, must be serious,” but he still manages an expert flip of the tri-tip.

              “He sure as hell doesn’t deserve her,” says Max quietly so as not to be overheard by anyone that might be listening inside the cabin.

              “How about you bro, do you deserve her?” Vinny leans in close and widens his eyes in a look that exaggerates the impact of the question.

              “You know I don’t. And anyway we did our thing years ago and that was the end of that.”

              Vinny leans in closer still, “That’s what your mouth says.”

              The stale stench of alcohol rises up from Vinny like moldy cheese and almost chokes Max, “And
your
mouth says you’re drunk. Now shut it before I get high off of the fumes.”

              Slightly dejected Vinny backs up and returns to his meat –now approaching medium rare- on the grill.

Down by the stream Brooke and Vanessa sit on opposite boulders quietly listening to the sounds of the night, a mini Maglite and the gleam of the moon their only allies against absolute darkness. Brooke hears an owl screech faintly in the distance.

              “It’s not that I don’t love him…” Vanessa begins -picking up in the middle of a conversation that they were yet to begin.

              Startled by the sudden break in the serenity of the night Brooke sits up and fixes her squint in Vanessa’s direction.

              “Huh,” is all she can manage.

              “Zack is a good guy but ever since I got pregnant I can’t help but wonder if he’s capable of providing for our child. He spends most of his time sitting on the sofa with one of his mixed drinks and watching C.O.P.S. with one hand down the front of his pants like Al Bundy. And sometimes the idea that this is the man that will be father to my son or daughter scares the hell out of me.”

              “Wait a second,” Brooke interrupts, “You don’t know what you’re having?”

              “No, we decided not to find out. We’ve even avoided getting ultrasounds for fear that we might see. We have names picked out either way.”

              “I see,” says Brooke.

              “Anyway, lately Zack and I fight a lot and it’s getting to the point that I’m wondering if I… if we, might be better off without him. But then I think; how am I, as a single mother, going to provide for a newborn. I mean, I can barely take care of myself,” Vanessa’s voice cracks, signifying just how much she’s been considering this alternative.  

              “Vanessa, it can’t be that bad. You guys have been together for a couple of years now. Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

              “Don’t you think I’ve tried? Every time, it ends in a fight. I don’t know what…” Vanessa pauses and puts her hand over her lips to stifle a sob, “I don’t know what to do.”

              “Just wait, once the baby is born Zack will fall right in line and everything will be different. Fatherhood changes a man. He’ll come through.”

              Brooke isn’t sure she means anything she’s just said, but she is absolutely sure that stress this late in Vanessa’s pregnancy is not good for her or her unborn child. Sensing that right now Vanessa could use a shoulder to cry on, Brooke feels her way through the darkness and finds a smooth spot on the boulder where she sits next to Vanessa. She puts her hand on top of Vanessa’s hand and immediately feels something sticky.

              Brooke asks, “What’s that?” and shines the flashlight down at Vanessa’s hand. The light reveals some sticky crimson drips slightly smeared on the rock beneath it.

“That looks like blood on the rock and your hand. Are you cut?” she asks concernedly and hands the flashlight to Vanessa for a better inspection.

“I don’t think so, I mean I pricked my finger for a glucose test but that was about an hour ago. The doctor said that pregnant women are at a higher risk of becoming diabetic, so I test my sugar blood glucose level three times a day. Besides, that blood looks old and I don’t think I’m bleeding.”

“That stuff looks nasty. Who knows what kind of diseases these animals carry out here? We should have Onan clean it up for you when we get back.” 

              “You’re right, I will. Nobody tells you that when you’re pregnant you become a walking pincushion.”

The unexpected diversion from darker thoughts has caused Vanessa’s voice to calm slightly and she reaches up to wipe a salty tear that meanders its way down her cheek.

              Noticing a little change for the better in Vanessa’s state of mind, and feeling the pangs of hunger Brooke says, “Come on, it’s dark and getting a little spooky. We should start back. I’m anxious to see what the boys have burned for dinner.”

              Vanessa turns the small flashlight to the path. The two of them head back through the woods toward the cabin. In the short time they have talked, the woods have grown eerily silent. The only sounds they hear are the snap and crunch of leaf litter underfoot.

              “It’s kind’a creepy out here. Let’s hurry up,” Brooke says while taking a step closer to Vanessa and -not coincidentally- to their only source of light. Before she can get close enough to Vanessa to feel secure Vanessa stops abruptly in mid stride and waivers in her footsteps. Her hand spasms briefly and she lets the flashlight fall with a clatter to the narrow path. Before the clack of metal against stone can stop echoing through the woods, the sound is supplanted by a blood-curdling shriek.

              Caught entirely off-guard by the primal, almost animalistic, wail it takes a moment for Brooke to register that Vanessa is the source. Gooseflesh rises on Brooke’s arms and she can feel some of the short hairs at the nape of her neck straighten. Brooke sees Vanessa’s legs starting to wobble and steps to her side in time enough to partially break her fall. The two tumble sideways with Brooke taking the brunt of the impact between Vanessa and the unforgiving ground.

              “Are you ok,” Brooke pushes the words out with the few sips of wind that have not been forced out of her by the fall.

              “What happened,” a disoriented Vanessa asks through cobwebs of haze and confusion as she slowly shakes her head.

Her back is turned to Brooke, which makes her question sound like a whisper.

              “You just let loose with the most ungodly scream I’ve ever heard and then you collapsed,” and then Book repeats, “Are you ok?”

              Vanessa rolls off of and away from Brooke. She sits up so that her heels and bottom are firmly planted on the ground. Her Belly is cradled between the triangle of her bent knees and stiffened torso with her back still facing Brooke. She stretches her arms out behind herself, plants her fingertips firmly in the dirt and leans into them. What happens next chills Brooke to the bone. All traces of blood drain from her face until her usually tan radiant skin is whiter than the freshly bleached linens of the finest eatery. 

***

              Back at the cabin, Sam busies herself in the kitchen making side dishes for tonight’s late supper. Onan and Lisa sit at a small coffee table in front of the couch playing poker.

The cabin possesses nothing in the way of entertainment or communication. There is no TV, radio or even a telephone. The cabin’s theme -undoubtedly an ode to simpler times- coupled with its remoteness makes it a perfect spot for catching up and just enjoying the company of friends that have been distant from sight but never far from mind.

Vinny is giving the tri tip one last once-over before removing it from the grill, when a sound unlike anything he’s heard before shatters the night and sobers him in record time.

“What the hell was that,” Vinny whispers in fear that whatever had made the sound might hear him.

“Shhh,” Max hisses at Vinny straining hard to tell from where the sound came.

The back of the antiquated cabin possesses only a single dull motion sensing light fixture. The bulb is tinted yellow to lessen its attractiveness to pesky insects that rule the night in this area. Its glow is confined to a thirty-foot wedge of faint luminescence that does little to aid Max’s investigation.

“The girls are out there. Stay here while I get a flashlight.”

Max races in through the back door and finds everyone standing at attention with startled and confused looks on their faces. He takes no time to explain to them what he doesn’t understand himself, nor does he mention the beastly sight that he’d witnessed at dusk. He heads straight for the bag that he set next to the couch and with no time to fool with its frequently troublesome zipper, he rips it open and produces a flashlight. He heads back out of the backdoor and finds Vinny already on point with a steak knife in hand.

“Let’s do it,” Max says through a clinched jaw as they head out into the darkness.

***

Brooke is sure that every strand of hair on her head is standing on end. The fallen flashlight is cutting small slivers of light through the leaves and across Vanessa’s back. What she sees happening can’t
actually
be happening. It simply can’t be real.

Without moving her torso, or any other part of her body, Vanessa turns her head –to the sound of snapping vertebrae- inhumanly far in an owl-like fashion. Her head turns a complete 180 degrees until her eyes are fixed and locked onto Brooke’s in a stolid stare.

In a low and surprisingly calm voice she says, “I must provide for my baby.”

In sheer panic, Brooke propels herself backward in a crabwalk on heels and hands doing her best to put distance between herself and the Vanessa-thing that follows her with those dead eyes. From the corner of Brooke’s own eye –she dares not break eye contact with Vanessa for fear of what may come next- she sees light bouncing down the path toward her.

***

When Max and Vinny finally reach the girls, they find Brooke wide-eyed and terrified. She’s unable to speak and looking in Vanessa’s direction with unadulterated dread on her face. Vanessa is sitting curled in on herself around her belly and rocking back and forth like a small child after a traumatic event, attempting to find an inward escape. She appears to be sobbing.

Believing her to be injured, Max approaches Vanessa first. All he can see in his mind’s eye is the visage of that beast he’d assumed was Cujo. Be it Cujo or something else, he was instantly sorry he hadn’t spoken up earlier and stopped the girls from traveling out into the night.

“Vanessa? Are you ok?” Max asks of her but receives only sobs in reply.

Max and Vinny help the two girls to their feet and they begin a slow walk back to the cabin.

Neither Max or Brooke nor Vinny notice or hear the yellow-eyed beast that sits just on the edge of the darkness and watches them from the woods. The only sound it makes is a drip, drip, drip as dark red dribbles of blood fall from its gaping jaws onto the forest floor at its feet.

***

Back at the cabin, Onan is giving Vanessa the best examination he can muster. Being a second year medical student at Johns Hopkins he is the obvious choice for the task and the closest thing to a doctor they are going to find at this time of night within 30 miles. In a half-circle around the bed in one of the cabin’s three small bedrooms stand everyone else wearing varying shades of concern on his or her faces. That is, everyone but Brooke -who stands just outside of the cabin’s front door trying to reconcile what she had seen with what she knows to be impossible. She goes over the horrifying incident in her mind, looking for an indication that it was a hallucination. Maybe she’d hit her head when she fell. Perhaps the zebra pattern made by the small flashlight shining through the leaf litter on the floor of the woods had created an optical illusion.

Noticing Brooke’s absence, Max makes a quiet retreat from Vanessa’s bedside. The search for Brooke is a short one given the abbreviated size of the four-room cabin. He finds her on the front porch and in a contemplative state.

“Are you ok? What happened out there?”

In an attempt to dodge his query she asks, “What does Onan think?”

“She and the baby appear to be fine. Her heart rate and blood pressure seem to be a little elevated but he says that’s understandable considering her collapse. What he doesn’t know is why she collapsed in the first place. His best guess is anemia. That or stress. Do you know of anything that might have been stressing her out right then?”

This explanation actually made some sense to Brooke and she was glad to hear
something
that made sense. Pregnant women’s iron count often fell off and accounted for all kinds of problems.

She says, “Well, we had been talking about problems between her and Zack but…”

“Anything serious,” Max interrupts and immediately wishes he hadn’t. He prided himself on his abilities to keep his emotions low key and stay out of other people’s business. He hoped in turn they would stay out of his. Max had seen and done some things in his life that he didn’t want to share or be pitied for.

Apparently not noticing the anxiousness in his voice Brooke answers, “I think it’s probably just jitters, nothing serious.”

“Jitters, is that the official term that you psych majors use?”

Either not amused by his attempt to lighten the conversation or not noticing, Brooke presents a question of her own, “Max, have you ever seen something you couldn’t explain, something so unusual that you weren’t sure it was real?”

Max raises a single brow, “As a matter of fact…”

***

Back in the bedroom-turned recovery room, Onan is keeping vigil over a still and silent Vanessa. Only he and Zack remain with her in the small space.

“In the morning we should take her into town. I’m sure there’s a clinic around with an ultrasound machine,” Onan puts on his most assuring voice for the sake of Vanessa – whom has yet to speak- and Zack who is sitting in a whicker chair in the corner.

“Great!” Zack exclaims, “I knew she would find a way to ruin this trip for me.”

Obviously surprised Onan shoots a sideways glance at Zack, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t know what it’s like living with her. Twenty-four hours a day, she’s on my ass about providing for the baby. The damn baby is not even here yet and she’s already making my life a living hell. This vacation was supposed to be my break from all that nonsense, and look, here we are. Even without saying a word she’s still ruining my fucking day.”