Silverbow (16 page)

“I must do this. You must do this on your own. I cannot teach you. It is our nature,” he said and then leaned down over my body once more. Kissing my lips, my neck and then my lobe, he whispered. “Forgive me. I will find you again.” I felt his finger tight over mine and realized I was pulling on a trigger. I sent my wet lashes crushing to my cheeks as I heard the blast and then all went dark and silent. I was dead or at least wishing I was.

CHAPTER 13

Whimpering, Daxo was whimpering and I was softly begging him to stop. I couldn’t see a thing and I couldn’t find him. I could hear his pitiful whine and ragged breathing. My heart was breaking for him. I placed my hands out in front of me as I searched blindly for my childhood black lab and stumbled onto a jagged surface that bit into my flesh and made me cry out. The whimpering grew louder and louder as I lay there unable to find or help my poor fucking dog. As I began to weep the whine grew so close and mind numbingly loud that I felt it vibrate in my chest and then my throat. I was whining. It wasn’t a dog. It was me.

I reached up and placed my hands over my eyes, rubbing hard and blinking against the darkness. I could hear something in the distance. Someone was coming. After a moment or two a truck barreled past and the breeze against my face was startling. I lay flat against the ground, realizing I was outside and close to a road. Stretching my arms out I felt for anything around me that could help me get up. I found nothing and screamed when I tried to get up on my own. Every inch of me felt like I had been churned through a meat grinder. Pain flared and turned my darkness into a blinding white light. Reflexively my hands flew up to block my eyes and when my hands actually blocked the light I realized I was able to see again.

Another truck’s high beams caught my eyes as I heard it approaching like a freight train. I was on the side of a road. I winced against the bright light and then looked down at my torn and tattered limbs. A big black T-shirt hung from my body. Wet sand clung to the blood soaked material and caked my arms and legs. I reached up and placed a hand to my throbbing temple to find a deep dimpled wound it my head. I cried out again as I brought my hand down into view and saw a few thick strands of hair and skull fragments stuck to my fingers.

Reality resonated through me like an earthquake as I began to recall my battle with Murphy. He put a gun to my head and forced me to shoot myself. Why was I alive? I looked down and pulled the black shirt, which obviously had belonged to him, up past my thigh and found that the flesh on my inner thigh was simply bruised. I remembered the feeling of his teeth piercing my skin and drawing blood. My fingertips jerked to my neck where he had torn a hole in my throat and it too was in one piece. My eyes widened in complete disbelief as I shoved my hand under the shirt and felt my back where I remembered nearly vomiting at the sound of my own flesh tearing. It too was healed.

The desert began to spin around me and my fingers dug into the dry ground as I tried to steady myself. My eyes shut and I waited until I no longer felt like I was going to vomit. Slowly, I peeled myself from the desert floor and stood. My legs were weak and I stumbled before I found my footing. Finally my bare feet touched the cool pavement of the road and I opened my eyes.

It was night and the mood was only slightly fuller than it had been when I last recalled seeing it. How long had I been out here? I looked to my left and found a neat stack of my belongings at the base of a Route 375 sight. I sucked in a deep breath which burned my lungs and fought off the desire to cry again. I unsteadily walked over to the pile to find my jeans, boots, jacket and holstered gun. It took me several minutes but I was able to dress myself against the raging pain each movement set ablaze.

I reached up to comb my fingers through my hair and when they touched my temple I was shocked to find that the crater in my head was barely there now. I tucked my sickeningly filthy hair behind my ears and used my own spit and the bottom of Murphy’s black shirt to wipe my face as clean as I assumed it could be. I was honestly happy to be without a mirror.

Finally my feet began to move and before I knew it I was almost half a mile away from my desert grave. As time went by my pain began to fade to a deep ache and then a discomfort. My nostrils flared and I could taste the salty metallic scent that wrapped my flesh. My stomach churned and then began to growl. I couldn’t recall the last time I had eaten. I walked on with hope that another truck would come by and pick me up. Hours seemed to pass before the rumble of another motor echoed off the red rock walls of the desert.

An eighteen wheeler barreled down Route 375 in my direction. I reached my arm out and stuck out my thumb like a good little hitch hiker and prayed that my appearance wouldn’t frighten him off. A filthy woman in tight jeans, stiletto boots and a black leather jacket must have still seemed tempting. The beast of a truck slowed and pulled to the side of the road. I watched though a small window at the foot of the passenger side door as a fat man leaned across the seat and shoved the door open.

With an old hat on, flannel shirt and rugged jeans, he looked like your typical trucker. His plump cheeks balled up as he smiled at me with stained teeth and waved for me to climb in. His eyes shifted from cheerful to worry when he got a closer look at the state I was in. He frowned and reached for a wad of clean napkins from his dash.

“Jesus, darlin’. What in the hell happened to you,” he asked. His voice was higher than I expected and it struck me as funny. I smiled at him, trying not to laugh and shrugged.

“Not sure. I woke up out here like this,” I replied as I reached up for the sun visor and unfolded it to reveal a mirror. My eyes widened and I nearly shoved it back into the roof of the cab when my reflection stared back at me. I managed to keep my composure and used my own saliva to dampen the napkins and clean my face. The truck growled and pulled back onto Route 375. He kept the cab light on for me so that I could see what I was doing.

Abnormal piercing jade eyes looked back at me and cheekbones seemed higher or more defined. My face was nearly foreign to me. I wiped crusted blood off of my nose and fore head. Turning my head, I examined where my Smith and Wesson had blown a hole in my head. I was completely healed now and the pain in my temple had already subsided. My long blonde hair was a total disaster but I did take notice to a major difference. Beneath the rust colored stains that streaked it, lingered new strands of white. It was like the scary movies when someone sees a ghost and their hair turns white. I wrinkled my nose and tried to comb my fingers through my hair but it was no use.

“What do you remember last,” he asked as he shifted his gaze back and forth between me and the road.

“An animal attack,” I said in a muffled tone and his eyes grew wide.

“Damn girl, you are lucky! Have you heard of all the animal killings out here lately? You actually survived!”

“Lucky me,” I whispered and returned to trying to make myself look half way decent. I’d need a shower before I was any less revolting.

“What did it look like,” he asked extremely curious.

“Like a man in a blue Chevelle. If you see one, run it the fuck over, will ya,” I requested and he looked a bit confused.

“Oh, so a man did this to you.” I could see the excitement leave his eyes when I didn’t offer a story about some alien monster thrashing me around like a ragdoll. “How bad are you hurt? That’s a lot of blood,” he observed.

“I’m not sure really,” I admitted as I ran my hands over my arms and down my torso as if checking for injuries. “I kind of hurt all over. Do you think you can take me Silverbow,” I asked.

“Darlin’, I’ll drop you off within a mile of it but I ain’t drivin’ into town. Sorry,” he apologized.

“I would greatly appreciate that,” I said and smiled. I reached up to turn the light off and darkness washed over us. “How far away are we now,” I asked.

“About thirty-five miles or so,” he replied and turned to look me over again. I arched a brown when his eyes met mine and any comfort he had with my company drained from his face. “Your…eyes,” he stammered. I turned to look up at my reflection and almost choked. My eyes were glowing softly. Two dim pale green eyes hungrily peered back at me in the mirror. I closed my eyes and rubbed them though I knew nothing was going to change. “What’s wrong with your eyes,” he asked. I could hear the fear in his voice and more than anything else…I could smell it. My nostrils flared and the bitter sweet scent of his panic seduced me and the grumble in the pit of my stomach.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, keeping my eyes shut. I reached up to tuck my hair behind my ears and stopped when, to my surprise, my ears had become deformed. My fingers trembled over their newly pointed tips. Fucking elf ears? I shoved my hands into my lap so that I wouldn’t find anything else wrong with me but it didn’t take my curious fingers to find my next new trait.

The driver’s heartbeat began to grow louder and louder until it was thundering in my ears. I turned my face away from him as I tried to focus. I heard him gulp between panicked breaths. “Please, calm down. I am okay,” I tried to reassure him. He didn’t reply and I sat still as I listened to him move. The truck’s speed remained steady and the sound of its engine seemed to fade into the background as I was able to focus on the driver alone. I heard the soft rustle of his shirt and the sound of his flesh patting against the vinyl of his door. Then I noticed a shift in his scent. His fear was still tainting the air but it had slightly faded. When I could hear something slide away from the door and into his lap, I understood why. I was sure he was now holding a gun.

Anger suddenly pulsed through my temples. I bit into my bottom lip and felt the corner of my mouth pull into a snarl. I tried to exhale deeply and contain my sudden mood swing.

“Miss, you have me a little worried,” he admitted. He no longer seemed to care that I was hurt. I could tell his concern had shifted to his own safety.

“Please, calm down. I’m begging you,” I pleaded with him. My stomach began to hurt as though I had not eaten in weeks. I clamped my hands down over it and winced when one hand stabbed the other. I opened my eyes and glanced down at my appalling hands. My fingers had grown slender and my nails had become thick and talon-like. I balled my hands into fists to hide them away and closed my eyes again. I could smell his fear pick back up and I inhaled deeply. The smell left a taunting taste in the back of my throat and my stomach growled or at least I had thought it was my stomach.

“I’m going to pull over now and let you out,” he informed me as I heard his foot lift from the gas peddle and shift to the break. 

“No,” I growled quietly and the sound of my own voice shocked me. I kept my face turned away from him and tried my best to force myself to relax but the thicker the air became in the cabin, his fear smothering my senses, the more I lost control. I heard him cock the pistol that I knew was in his lap. He was threatening me. He was fucking threatening me. All I wanted was a ride. I swallowed hard and straightened out, turning in my seat to face him. “Please don’t stop,” I asked trying to find my normal voice but failed.

The truck violently halted, forcing us to lurch forward in our seats and he nearly dropped his gun. Before I could blink he held the pistol even with my chest. “Get the fuck out,” he shouted with a quivering voice. His hand began to shake and his fear began to peak. I allowed my hands to relax and reached for the door handle behind me. I tugged the door open but did not move from my seat. The outside air offered little relief from his scent that taunted my hunger.

“Please, I just need to get to Silverbow,” I managed to say in a less animalistic tone. He shook his head and pointed the gun at the open door then back at me. I sighed heavily but when it came out as a guttural growl he fired. Having heard his finger squeeze down on the trigger and the hammer lift, I was able to move with unnatural speed and grace to dodge the screaming bullet. Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. I slammed against the dash and windshield as the bullet grazed the sleeve of my leather jacket and missed my shoulder.