Two Halves Series (11 page)

The clouds above flowed to the east, and starlight shone brighter into the clearing. After an hour of jokes, songs, and laughter, and just as I was getting more comfortable in my human skin, Chris decided to be adventurous. “Who’s brave enough to go on a hike?” he asked loudly.

Didn’t he hear about that bear attack last week?
It must be a ploy to get some one-on-one time with the girls.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Chris,” said Ms. Wimsley, the other chaperone.

“Yeah, Chris, we all know what you want to do in the dark.” Elizabeth sneered, zipping up her hoodie.

Chris’s snide laugh was tinged with annoyance. “Oh, why don’t you get ready for the next demonstration for women’s rights, Elizabeth.”

As they argued the reason behind Chris’s urge to hike at night, I closed my eyes. A warm autumn breeze caressed my face. I stretched my arms lazily above my head, then froze when something tickled my palm. Tiny, hairy legs danced between my fingers—a spider. The revelation brought an overwhelming fear nearing panic. My inhale identified the arachnid as a tarantula—one immune to the three layers of bug repellent I’d sprayed on in the tent. With a scream, I flicked my hand, launching the monster from my wrist back into the darkness of the forest.

For some reason I lost consciousness, and I was now in a different place and time.

Mira, Xander, and I were in a dark underground cave surrounded by strange creatures with glowing orange eyes. The air was heavy and unmoving. Condensation collected on the rocky walls. I squeezed someone’s warm hand. Our fingers intertwined, our heartbeats became synchronized. We were calm, despite the menacing situation. We were concentrating on—

“Sarah! Sarah!”

“Wake up, Sarah!”

“Is she okay?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sarah, take a deep breath.” I recognized Mira’s calm voice.

I opened my eyes and saw a dozen faces hovering over me. Another dozen voices whispered amongst themselves.

“What happened?” I asked. My head throbbed and when I touched the back of it, a bruised area swelled into a lump. “Ouch.”

“Stay still.” Xander placed his hands on my shoulders.

“You fainted,” said Ms. Wimsley. “And you gave us quite a scare.”

“Way to go, weirdo.” Chris pushed through the crowd toward me. “Half the forest is gone because of your scream. We won’t get to see any animals, man.” He faked a disappointed moan.

Mira and Xander assumed a protective stance. Their shoulders looked broader, and I thought I’d heard a snarl.

I sat up to see Xander’s profile as he stared at Chris from under his brows. “Shut up!” he growled with fury, his voice deepening to roar. He behaved like a creature himself.

Did anyone notice his incisor teeth gleaming just below his lips, even in the darkness? I could have sworn he’d grown a few inches, but perhaps it was the shadows and the flickering flames of the fire.

“Don’t worry about him,” Xander said. “If half the animals are gone, how come you’re still here?” His attention returned to me, but his words were clearly meant for Chris. “Go to your tent and leave her be.”

It wasn’t a request, but an order; one no one would dare to defy.

Chris took a step back, spitting to the side, but fear and hatred painted his face.

“It’s getting late. It’s time to go to your tents,” Ms. Wimsley interjected with forced authority. “Sarah, have some water. You must have fainted from all the excitement and dehydration.” I guessed it was the best diagnosis she could think of under the pressure of teenage glares. She clapped her hands. “Chop, chop, kids. We have a busy day tomorrow. Everyone get ready for bed, and give her some breathing room.” She turned to Mira. “Keep an eye out for Sarah overnight, will you? Make sure she gets plenty of fluids.”

My throat tingled at that. I wished for fluids, but not the kind Ms. Wimsley had in mind.

The students’ protests of “aww” and “no” echoed through the clearing to be muffled in the dark forest. We all crawled into our tents for the night. Xander took the right side, Mira chose the middle, and I took the left. We hung a glowing light stick from one of the ceiling supports, having no intention of sleeping.

“What happened to you?” Mira asked when we were settled.

I rolled on my side to face her. “I . . . I think I fainted,” I fibbed, stalling. The memory of glowing orange eyes disturbed me enough to send chills down my back. Would the siblings think I was crazy if I told them what I’d seen? Would they dismiss my vision because I hit my head on the rock—the way I hoped they would?

The feeling of a dream being real was not new to me; I’d had them too often, and dreams this intense always became real—they foretold my future. Knowing what would happen wasn’t so bad, but understanding a dream; that was another story. But this wasn’t a dream. I fainted. Yet, the feeling of my vision coming true was identical to when I dreamt.

“Are you sure? Your eyes rolled back when you were out. Were you trying to see something?” Though she was obviously striving to sound casual, the muscles around her jaw and brow tightened.

“Well... I-I thought I saw you and Xander... But way in the future... With me,” I stammered. I didn’t know how much of my strange vision I should share.

Mira and Xander looked at each other, nodding imperceptibly. Xander couldn’t hide his bright teeth, even in the dark, as his mouth curved into a wide grin. He slid into his sleeping bag. “It was only a small spider. You could have squashed it.”

“It was a tarantula! I don’t care how small it was, it creeped me out.” My heartbeat picked up again at the memory. I rolled onto my back.

Mira smacked the back of her brother’s head, hard enough that I heard the whack. He squirmed but didn’t say anything. The intensity of the blow should have knocked him flying, but it didn’t. She readjusted the thick band leather straps on her left wrist. Xander always wore an identical one.

“Calm down, Sarah. We know how afraid you are of insects,” Mira said, still frowning at Xander. “It’s not a big deal. It could have happened to anyone.”

I didn’t believe her. “I so didn’t want to draw attention to myself,” I said as I slipped further into my sleeping bag. Sliding deeper, I zipped it up to the end and tied the drawstring so only the oval of my face was exposed. With my eyelids lower I yawned loudly. They looked at me, surprised. Besides Helen, they were the only ones who knew how difficult it was to tire me out.

“We know. Don’t worry, they should forget about it by morning.” Mira zipped herself up.

“And if they don’t, I’ll introduce them to my biceps.” Xander flexed his arms. Somehow I believed my skinny friend would fight anyone to defend me.

“Thanks, guys. I’m really tired,” I lied. “Good night.” I pressed my lips tightly together, ending the conversation, knowing I wouldn`t sleep. My thoughts wandered to the vision and the horrific place I’d seen when I fainted.

The siblings didn’t believe me, but Xander rolled his eyes without complaining. Mira`s concerned gaze remained on me. It didn’t matter how fake I was, they always understood. Guilt and shame invaded my thoughts, and I sunk into the sleeping bag.
I wish I could tell you the truth.
I sighed.

After half an hour of restless movements and giggling, the whispers of my classmates became lower and less frequent. The campsite fell quiet for the night. Breathing deepened, and snores broke the silence.

It would be a long night for me.

I waited until Xander’s mouth sagged open and he started gurgling in the back of his throat. When the first drool streaked his chin, I crept out of the tent to stretch my aching muscles. They didn’t really ache, but telling myself they did made me feel less like a half-breed.

The darkness didn’t scare me. My night vision was perfect. I sat by the smouldering ashes in the fire pit, where the orange glow of the embers was as bright as the eyes of the strange creatures in my vision. Fear sent chills down my spine. What did the vision mean? Were the creatures real or a figment of my imagination? It felt real, almost as real as some of my dreams that have come true before.

Mira and Xander had been older; I guessed we would be in our early twenties. I sighed, resting my chin on my hand. Whose hand had I been holding so tightly? I touched my right palm as if I could still feel the softness and warmth of that other person.

My hand travelled to my chest to feel the beating of my heart. The rhythm was different from that in the vision. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t complete. I’d never thought about my heartbeat in such detail until now. Could it change one day to make me feel whole, and wanted?

The sounds of the night blurred together. Frozen by the memory of what I had seen, I sat by the fire. The six hours of darkness passed quickly and I hadn’t noticed until now that the sun was beginning to rise. A breeze not yet strong enough to dispel the thick fog hovering above the grass brought a new scent. My nostrils flared, identifying its components: a hint of jasmine, rose, and lilac overlaying a sweet, woody musk that carried my mind to the shores of a nearby pond. I rose and followed the honey-like aroma. It was so sweet I almost floated across the undergrowth and grass as I focused on its siren song.

Just a few meters from the water, I found the source: a flower growing alone among the moss and short grasses. Its beauty captivated me; I stood frozen, like Medusa’s victim. From a distance, it looked completely black. When I stepped closer, my nose only inches away, the navy blue and purple petals shimmered in the morning light. It was a blue orchid.

I pulled my eyes away from its iridescence to look around the pond for another, but there were none. The flower reached skyward, as if waiting to be found. Away from its humid habitat, the stem swayed in the gentle breeze. Its existence reminded me of my own. This orchid didn’t fit into its surroundings, either, all lonesome by itself.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered. My breath left a warm trail in the cool air. I leaned in closer and saw an aura around its blossom, stem, and leaves. The twinkling light encapsulated the orchid like a shadow less lamp. “You are beautiful.”

With my nose an inch from its center, I tapped a fragile petal. The sugary smell intensified, and the inhaled pollen settled on my lungs, then dispersed into my bloodstream. My eyes closed, and muscles flexed. I inhaled again. A rush of new strength and energy flew through my body.

Helen will be so happy!
I examined the flower from each angle. “You should be an interesting one to work with.” My fingers dug into the soil at the flower’s base and I scooped its roots into my palms. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

As I studied the orchid resting in my hands, a warm, odorous breath drifted across the left side of my face. I froze, feeling as if the blood was thickening around my spine. Something tickled my cheek, fur, as the beast leaned closer to sniff me. I dared not move, but I took a quick whiff. A black bear, trying to figure out what I was. The new treasure in my palms had so mesmerized me I hadn’t heard it approach.

Still crouching, I slowly turned to face my opponent. A wave of adrenaline and something I didn’t recognize built in my bloodstream.

The bear backed away, then raised his front paws to stand, preparing to attack. His head rose three to four feet higher than mine. I didn’t move, focusing on the bear’s muzzle and the scars around his nose and under his eyes, some still crusted. My gaze landed on a ripped but healed lower lip and his left half-missing ear.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance that had placed me in this predicament. The scent travelled into my lungs and took over my veins. Time slowed; I watched the bear breathe in slow motion as it examined my crouched posture. It would only be a few seconds before its claws and teeth lashed out.

I considered fighting, but that would erase all the hard work I’d devoted to covering my true identity. Would I know how to fight? Besides, the serum from the previous night hadn’t worn off yet; it diluted my strength—though I felt stronger than ever.

Fall down and play dead. No, fight back. Fall down and play dead . . . fight back . . .
The two extremes battled in my head.

There was no room for error, no gray area.

I had nowhere to hide. There were no other options.

The indecision left my heart racing, and I absently counted the beats—280 per minute. Not normal for a human—but I wasn’t human.

Blood rushed through my body at accelerated speed, and I knew my organs were using its energy too quickly. But the infused blood strengthened me, adding vigour to my joints and power to my limbs.

I can’t lose control; I can’t become a walking white corpse!
With my next breath, my body responded as if of its own accord. My knees flexed, preparing for the bear to strike.

Then it occurred to me—I was not as afraid of the bear as I’d been of the tarantula. I feared my dark side was winning, and I knew the bear had no chance against me.

Run. I could run—fast.

But I didn’t want to. I scowled at the bear from beneath my brows. Any control I pretended to have was lost, although I felt more in control than ever. Empowered, I shifted my weight forward. I felt I could take the bear down. Would his blood be thicker than a cougar’s or would it be as revolting as a rat? Would it be more tart, or sweet? Would it strengthen me more than the vermin whose blood I was used to drinking? I licked my lips.

As the bear’s paw came down, I shoved my arm in the centre of his chest. The bear flew back into a trunk of a tree. It shook its fur, refocused, and ran at full speed toward me.

I heard a loud two-toned roar behind me. The bear froze in its track, turned and ran back into the woods.

Crap. Is there a bigger bear behind me?

The roar was familiar, but I didn’t let my guard down or let my smirk disappear. I slowly turned to welcome my new opponent, but only saw Mira and Xander, standing side by side, ten feet away, in the spot I expected the other bear to be.

My heart rate plummeted to seventy-five beats per minute, and I lost consciousness—this time for real.