The Reaping (41 page)

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Authors: M. Leighton

BOOK: The Reaping
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I looked toward Derek.  He was still trying to get to me, but the look on his face assured me that he knew there was nothing he could do.  He looked crushed.  He’d given up so much for me and now he was going to watch me die. 
I smiled, hoping he would take comfort in my resolution, in my calm.  “I think I’ll be brave for you,” I whispered and stepped forward to meet the fate I’d made for myself. 
All at once, hands were all over me.  They grabbed and pulled, their filthy nails tearing away at my flesh.  And then, gasping in pain, I felt teeth at my wrist, sinking into the tender flesh there, already bleeding from my self-inflicted wound.  I knew that I could fight back—I had the power—but I also knew that it was futile.  I had to die in order to save the others.  And I was going to go willingly,
my way

I gave myself up to the excruciating biting and tearing, ripping and gnawing of the group.  Blood was pouring down my arms and dripping from my fingertips before I fell to my knees, my legs suddenly lacking the strength to support me. 
Above their hungry groaning and vicious squabbling, I could hear the coarse crackle of my clothes ripping as they struggled to get through my jeans and sweater to the skin beneath.  I could only imagine what they’d already done to my arms and chest.
I stayed upright as long as I could, but within minutes, the force of bodies pushing and hands pulling was too much for me to bear.  When they maneuvered me to the ground, I knew I didn’t have much time left.
At that point I must’ve blacked out because I awakened some time later to the sensation that my insides were being torn from my body.  Even if I had maintained the energy to raise my head and look down, I wouldn’t have.  That was exactly what was happening, I was certain of it.  I knew I was dying, but there was one last thing that I wanted to do. 
Pushing past the pain that wracked every single nerve and fiber of my body, I cleared my throat.  There was something I wanted say, out loud, and I wanted Fahl to hear it. 
“God, I know you are up there and I just want you to thank you for sparing them.  I wish I had believed in you sooner,” I said.  Then, closing my eyes, I finished.  “But I believe in you now.”
Suddenly, a blinding light penetrated my closed lids.  I felt the warmth of it on my face, the brightness of it chasing away the pain and the worry and that haunting feeling that I was doomed.  I felt my lips pull up into a peaceful smile.  I knew right then that I’d made the right choices, done the right things…in the end.
Then, as if he was far away, I heard Fahl’s voice rise to a shrill pitch as he shouted, “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?  You knew!  She’s supposed to reap for me,
for me!
” 
I turned my head toward his voice and cracked my lids the tiniest bit.  Fahl stood in the midst of the dead, looking heavenward, shaking his fist angrily at the sky. And then it was as if I was drifting away from him, rising up into the brightness.  I closed my eyes, content to float, and I heard, way off in the distance, Fahl scream, “Nooooooo!”  And then there was nothing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I didn’t know what to expect when I opened my eyes, so I didn’t.  I didn’t know how long it had been since the last of the dead had given up on picking my bones clean or where I’d be “kept” once they were finished.  I had no idea what I might look or feel like, if there would be pain or not.  I was clueless and totally unprepared (as I suspected most people in my position were) so I reached out with all my senses to acclimate myself as much as possible before I added sight to the mix.  Depending on what you’re seeing, vision can be terrifying.
I was lying on my back and there was something hard and cold beneath me.  I was freezing and my fingers and toes had lost most of their feeling, though I could still wiggle them.  I considered that a good sign. 
I took a deep breath and analyzed the ambient smells.  Fresh, cold air filled my lungs and, carried on it, a coppery tang that I wasn’t familiar with. 
Next, I exhaled slowly and listened.  Absolute silence.  I waited for the sound of voices or movement or some sign of life and activity, but there was nothing.  Though the Darkness was super quiet like that, I had imagined I would hear screams or something, some sign of everlasting torment.  Of course, maybe I was confusing it with Hell.  What did I know about the Darkness?
Then I turned my senses inward.  I had wondered if I would feel evil or hollow or doomed or…something, but I felt no different.  In fact, if anything, I felt…better.  Surely that couldn’t be right.
That’s when I noticed my headache.  A dull throbbing in my right temple that radiated down into my cheekbone and eye socket.  Other than that, I wasn’t in any pain or discomfort, just cold.  I found that even more unusual, especially considering the devouring I’d just endured.
Finally, when there was nothing left to assess but the visual information, I tried to open my eyes. 
A blinding whiteness poured through the cracks and pain cut through my head like a hot knife.  Quickly, I squeezed them shut again.  I waited a few seconds, counting to ten in my head, before opening them again.  When I did, it was just a slit, only this time I was prepared for the pain.  Gritting my teeth, I waited for it to subside as my eyes adjusted to the brightness.  When they finally did, I opened them wider. 
The scene that greeted me was familiar somehow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it right away, my brain feeling a bit addled and mushy.  Above me were bare tree branches, crisscrossing the sky like dead, bony fingers laced together.  Beyond them were ominous gray clouds.  They looked like snow.  And that would explain the brilliance as well as the cold.   But there was neither snow nor daylight in the Darkness, was there?
Slowly, I turned my head, following one tree’s branches to the trunk and the trunk to the ground.  At its base, about ten feet away, was a dense patch of mountain laurels.  Their evergreen leaves sagged under the weight of a thick dusting of snow.  I looked to my right and saw a similar scene.  I was in the woods, in a clearing.  I suspected it was
the
clearing, though I had never seen it snow-covered so it was hard to be sure.
A spot of color drew my eye.  A bright red dot marred the fluffy white topping on one leaf.  I raised my head a few inches off the ground to get a better look.  That’s when the familiarity of the site really hit home.  It was the scene I’d dreamed of so long ago.
Knowing that when I sat up I’d be covered in blood, I wasn’t quite as shocked when I looked down and actually saw it.  I was still wearing the yellow parka that I’d grabbed at the back door of my house the night before and, just like in my dream, it was shredded.  That made more sense now, however, since I’d had quite the run-in with the bloodthirsty, flesh-eating dead not so long ago. 
I rubbed a bloody finger over the skin visible through one of the many tears.  It was smooth and unmarred, as if hungry teeth had never penetrated it.  But I knew they had.  I’d likely never forget the feel of it, the torturous agony of it.
Like a delayed reaction, my heart began to race with fear, fear that I hadn’t felt at the time but for some reason was plaguing me now.  I reminded myself that it was over.  There was no reason to feel afraid now, so I put my focus elsewhere. 
What happened next in my dream?
Derek.
I stood to my feet, squishing in the pool of blood in which I’d been laying then turned my head.  I looked expectantly in the snow behind me.  And I wasn’t disappointed.  There lay Derek, sprawled and unconscious, wearing black leather and unbound hair just like I remembered.
My first inclination was to go to him, but something in my gut stayed me.  How could it be Derek?  I’d freed him by sacrificing myself.  There’s no way we should be together. 
And then the suspicions arose.  What if he’d never really been mine?  What if our entire relationship had been a machination of Fahl’s?  Or what if he hadn’t really
wanted
to be free?
A tornado of unsettling thoughts whipped through my mind as I stood looking down on his big body and beautiful face.   Finally, I decided to leave our confrontation to a later time, after I’d had a chance to figure out what was what.  Setting one foot quietly in the snow behind me, I began to back up.
The snow crunched lightly under my foot as I lowered my weight onto it.  I watched the steady rise and fall of Derek’s chest as I stepped back with the other foot.  When it stopped so did I, holding my breath until he started breathing again.  When he did, I took another step back, all the while watching his chest. 
When it seemed he was still out, I picked up the pace a little, keeping my steps as light and soundless as possible.  Then, when I’d put nearly ten feet between us, I turned to navigate the trees.  I remembered running into Derek from my dream so I chose a different path through the woods.  But, I’d no sooner taken three steps into the laurels when I ran right into his chest.  And, just like I remembered, I raised my eyes and crashed immediately into his furious silver ones.
Derek grabbed my upper arms with his big hands and squeezed, lightly shaking me as he would a child.  “How could you do that to me, Carson?”
“Do what?”  I was confused.  And leery.
“How could you give your life so easily?”  He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his bare arms around me.  “Do you know what it was like, watching you walk into your own death and not being able to do anything about it?”  His voice was thick with emotion.  “For God’s sake, Carson, I watched you
feed yourself
to them.  I had to watch.”
For the first time, he let me know what he was feeling.  For the first time, he wasn’t in perfect control.  He
did
feel something for me.  And it was real. “I had no choice,” I murmured against the cool leather of his vest, oddly relieved by his upset.
He leaned back, holding me at arm’s length as he looked into my eyes.  His were warmer now, once more the inviting pools of mercury that I’d always wanted to drown in.  “You could’ve left well enough alone.  I did what I did to
save you,
not for you to go and get yourself into more trouble,” he said emphatically.
As I looked up into his handsome face, all the love I’d tried to deny and overcome in the past several days came rushing to the surface.  “You were worth it,” I said.  Then, suddenly feeling insecure and a little self-conscious, I cast my eyes down and whispered, “I’d have done anything for you.”
His finger beneath my chin tipped my face up toward his and I saw a reflection of all the love and devotion I felt, all the fierce emotion that I couldn’t describe.  It was all right there on his face, plain as day, for me to see.  And then he said the words that I’d longed to hear…and to believe.  “I love you, Carson.  I thought you knew that.”
I shrugged, afraid to open my mouth for fear of what gooey nonsense might fly out.  I was relieved when he drew me back into his embrace so that my tears fell unnoticed.  They poured down the leather of his vest and dropped to the ground in a delicate patter. This was all I needed to hear before spending eternity in a hell-like existence.  This was what made it all worthwhile.
Finally I looked up and asked a question that I wasn’t certain I really wanted the answer to.  “Am I dead?  Is this even real?”
“The dead part’s debatable,” he said with a wry smile.  “Let me put it this way: you’re no more dead than you were yesterday.”
“Then how did I survive the- the—”
“The eating?” 
I nodded.
“You healed.  It was slow, but by the time they’d moved on to your,” he paused to swallow, “your lower body, your chest and arms had already begun to heal.  It was amazing.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”
It boggled the mind to even think about.  So, with a shake of my head, I moved on to another question.  “My parents?  Are they—”
“Both out?  Yes.  Your mother is most likely at her house.  But your dad, well, you know he was already- already…”
I shook my head.  He wouldn’t be going back to the land of the living, but at least he could move on to heaven.  I knew without a doubt that was where he belonged.

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