Unleashed (8 page)

"When you came running out of the school crying. You came to me and I held you. I got to see a side of you I hadn’t seen in a long time, and I guess it made me want to take a chance.” He smiled and took hold of her hand.

She looked down at their entwined hands and was about to pull away when he stood and said, "You want to go have some fun?"

"Where to?"

"You know how to ride, right?"

She paused. "Ride what?"

"A dirt bike.” He easily pulled her up until they were standing inches apart.

"Yeah, I can ride. I even have my own bike," she said.

"I know. I saw it outside. That's why I asked. Is it a 125?"

"Yeah. I'm not super good yet, but I think I can keep up."

“How long have you been riding?”

“About a year. Logan taught me over by Miller’s Pond where it’s super sandy.”

They were still standing close. Claire could smell his cologne, and it made her stomach flutter.

"Good place to learn. And don’t worry. I'll be keeping an eye on you," he said.

"So when I wreck, you'll be sure to see?"

He grinned. "Of course."

They rode for almost an hour. She didn’t do too poorly, only wrecking once and that was because she had been looking back at Ethan. She couldn’t figure him out. He was so calm all of the time. Nothing seemed to faze him, not even when he almost crashed into a barbed wire fence she’d forgotten to tell him about.

When Claire grew tired, she headed back. Ethan followed behind until she stopped in front of her house. She removed her helmet and stared up into an almost black sky. Sprays of pinks and oranges still clung stubbornly to the west, but in just a short time they would lose their battle with the night. “What time do you think it is?”

Ethan pulled back the sleeve of his riding shirt and checked his wristwatch. "Almost eight-thirty. You want to get some dinner?"

"Yeah. I'm starving."

"Do you want to eat at a touristy place or Eddy's?" he asked.

Claire pursed her lips. That was the one problem with Bandon. There were lots of places to eat, but most of them were dedicated to outsiders. The restaurant owners frowned upon the locals crowding up their restaurants. They’d rather have the tourists who usually spent more money.

"Eddy's is fine," Claire said. But Logan works there, she thought and grimaced.

Ethan must've noticed her concern, because he said, "We can go somewhere on Main Street if you’d like."

"No, that’s okay. Give me a minute to change.” She swung her leg over the bike and dashed inside. Her heart beat fast, but it wasn’t from riding. Claire never thought she would be hanging out with Ethan again. It was a good feeling. One she missed.

Eddy’s was located on the outside of town. It used to be an old cabin, but twenty years ago the owner converted it into a restaurant. It was usually loud and crowded; tonight was no exception.

The waitress sat them on the far end of the dining room, away from the bar that had been added onto the building several years ago. Even though the bar and the restaurant were separated by a wall, you could still hear loud country music blaring through.

Claire didn't bother opening the menu. She always ordered the same thing: crab legs and corn on the cob, followed by a big brownie blast.

"I didn't know Logan worked here," Ethan said, peering behind her.

She followed his line of sight. Logan was busy behind the counter, getting an order together. "Yeah. He's worked here for about six months. Do you have a job?"

Ethan poured himself a glass of water. "During the summer and into the fall I help out at Bullard’s Beach as a lifeguard. It’s an easy gig.”  He nodded toward Logan. “You guys are pretty close. Did you ever date seriously?"

Claire shook her head. "We're just friends. Been that way since we were little."

"He's lucky."

She looked at him questioningly.

Ethan continued, "To have been friends with you that long. You're a cool girl."

Claire averted her eyes, willing her face not to blush.

The waitress, a girl she recognized from school, came over and took their order. Claire was surprised when Ethan ordered crab legs. She was about to comment what great taste he had, when her eyes locked with that of a predator. Sitting near the window was Gary. His thin lips twisted up like a writhing snake.  He raised his hand and slid his thumb across his greasy mustache.

Claire shivered as if the place had cooled ten degrees.

"What's wrong?" Ethan asked.             

"That guy by the window. We have a past."

Ethan glanced behind him. "Gary? Yeah, he's strange. I've talked to him a few times at Bodian. How do you know him?"

Claire tore at a napkin. "I had to go there for one of my career choices. Your dad works there, right?"

Ethan took a drink. "Yeah, he’s a manager out there."

“Does he know Logan’s dad? He’s a lab tech.”

“Probably, but he never talks about work.”

Just then Gary stood up and came their way. She lowered her eyes and whispered, "Here he comes."

Ethan turned around. "How's it going, Gary?"

Gary looked at him as if he just realized he was there. "Good, Ethan. You here with her?" he asked and wiped his hands on torn jeans.

"Yup."

Gary's head turned to Claire, and he grinned a smile that was anything but pleasant. "You are one lucky man,” he said, but he was still looking at Claire. Gary placed his hands on the table and leaned toward her, still with that crazy grin. One of his bottom teeth was missing. “We have unfinished business.”

She pressed her back into the booth; whether from the smell of his putrid breath or the fact that she was shaking and could no longer sit up, she couldn’t be sure.

Ethan grabbed Gary’s arm. "Do you mind? We're in the middle of dinner."

"I just want to get a good look." He reached out as if to touch her hair, but all of a sudden he was jerked back from behind.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Logan said. "You're drunk, Gary. Get out of here."

Gary stepped close to Logan. He was at least four inches taller. "Don't touch me again, boy, or I'll rip that tan arm right out of your socket.”

Ethan stood up next to Logan. "You need to leave. Now."

Gary looked from Ethan and then to Logan. Seemingly deciding against a fight, he turned back to Claire.

"Soon. Real soon. And I hope you remember what I told you." He tipped his baseball cap.

Both Logan and Ethan waited until they saw him disappear before they relaxed. Ethan lowered himself back into the seat across from Claire.

"Thanks, man," Logan said to Ethan.

"No problem.” He reached across the table and took her hand. "You okay?"

She nodded and tried to think of a joke. Something to get her mind off Gary. "You guys really should talk to him about his hair growth. His molest-tash is out of control."

Both boys laughed while Claire slid her hand out from Ethan’s and used it to tuck hair behind her ears.

"So you guys on a date?" Logan asked. His expression looked totally normal, but Claire could tell by the way he picked his thumb with his finger that he was annoyed.

Claire nodded. "We just got done riding."

"Cool. You have fun?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Ethan beat her to it. "Yeah, except for the time when Claire almost took out a tree.”

She laughed. "That was on purpose!”

"Right, well, I better get back to work," Logan said, looking everywhere but at her. "I'll talk to you later, Claire. Thanks again, Ethan."

"Sure. See you," Ethan said, but Logan was already walking back toward the kitchen. 

Claire lowered her head, pretending to read the dessert menu, but what she was really doing was thinking about Logan, about the hurt look in his eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here.

Ethan rapped his knuckles on the table, startling Claire and she looked up. He was no longer smiling. Instead his lips were pressed tightly together.

“So what did he mean?” he asked.

She frowned. “What did who mean?”

“Gary. He said you had unfinished business and to remember what he told you.”

“The guy’s a nut job,” she said quickly. “I think he got it in his head that I’d go out with him or something.” She glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t ask again about the second part of Gary’s ramblings.

He did. “Well let me know if he bothers you again.”

“That’s nice, but I can handle him.” She returned to the menu. Claire hated lying to Ethan, but she took Gary’s threats very seriously. He had the same crazy look in his eyes that her father had, and Claire had learned to listen to people like that. She figured eventually Gary would go away, once he realized she wasn’t going to talk.

The rest of the night with Ethan went better than expected. She didn’t see Logan again, so she assumed he must’ve gotten off early. She felt bad he hadn’t said goodbye and hoped he wasn’t too upset.

"I had a great time tonight," Ethan said at Claire’s doorstep. The reflection of the moon in the window lit up the side of his face.

She played with the keys in her hand. "I did too. Really."

"You say that like you're surprised."

"Not really. I always thought you were cool."

"Then why didn't you ever talk to me? I mean, I know why I didn’t talk to you, but how come you never approached me?"

"Honestly? I thought you had abandoned me. It hurt to look at you.” Her eyes met his. When she saw sorrow, she quickly laughed. “And I can't stand the company you keep."

Ethan nodded. "I know. Corey can be brutal. Did you know we're cousins? Few people know this."

Realization dawned on her. "So it's a blood thing."

There was no way someone as great as Ethan would be friends with someone like Corey.

He nodded again. "I felt bad for him when he first moved here so we hung out a lot. He’s okay when he’s not obsessing over girls."

They stood close together; the cool air made Claire shiver and she looked around, wondering if she was shivering for a different reason. Was Gary following her?

"We can go inside if you'd like," she said.

Ethan glanced back at his car. "I better get going.”

"Is something wrong?"

His blue eyes met hers, and she recognized a sadness lurking just beneath their glassy surface.

"Right now everything is perfect,” he said and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

Her first instinct was to fight, but she told herself to calm down. Everything was okay. She relaxed and inhaled deeply, wanting to remember his smell for when she was alone. Through his t-shirt she heard his heartbeat pounding slow and steady. She could fall asleep to that sound, she thought, sinking even further into him.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked, nuzzling his face next to her ear.

She felt light headed, but managed to say, "I usually hang out at the beach. Sometimes with the girls, or Logan’s usually there."

"When it's dark?"

Claire shrugged. "That’s when the beach is most beautiful. What are you doing?"

His muscles tightened. "Probably nothing. My parents are stupidly strict. But maybe I can meet you down there? Tenish?"

Claire pulled away and looked at him. "I'd like that."

He smiled and leaned toward her again. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he gave her a tight hug.  There was something about the way he held her that made her think of the words longing...and pain. When he let her go, she searched his face, but found no signs of what she'd felt in his embrace.

"Thanks again for tonight," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Claire remained on the porch until Ethan’s car disappeared into the night. For just a brief moment, before she escaped to the warmth of her home, she wondered what lay hidden beneath his calm demeanor.

TEN

The light of the moon spilled to the ground in great floods, illuminating a thick fog lining the seashore. Albert watched it curiously as it descended upon Bandon. It was rumored the fog brought death, all because of a teenage girl who had drowned one night while skinny dipping with her boyfriend.

"It swallowed her," the shaken-up boyfriend had told police. "I tried to get to her, but the fog took her away and drug her into the ocean." Albert and every other teenager had all heard the story for years, never knowing if it was true or not, but last year he’d looked it up and found it in the local newspaper in 1973.

Most likely the girl had drowned on a foggy night just like this. He jumped from a jagged rock to the beach below, his feet shifting in the fine sand. Not far away, waves crashed to the shore but he couldn't see them. Normally, he loved nights like this, hidden from the rest of the world as if he was on his own private island, but he didn't want to be alone anymore. He had found peace in Claire.

Beautiful Claire. How could he make her feel what he was feeling?

He picked up a smooth black stone and tossed it into the heavy fog. Whether it hit the water or not, he wasn’t sure. The sound was muffled by another crashing wave.

He thought back to last night when he’d seen her talking to
him
. He wouldn’t think or say his name, because if he did, then he’d have to accept the truth. Claire had feelings for
him
even if she wouldn’t admit it.

He was nice enough
, Albert thought.
Even willing to fight that psycho security guard, Gary.
Just thinking about the way Gary had looked at Claire, like his eyes were slowly peeling off her clothing, made blood rush to Albert’s face and the veins in his neck pop out. Creeps like him should be neutered.

Albert glanced down at his watch. It was almost ten o'clock. He'd snuck out of his parent’s house about twenty minutes ago, intent on finding Claire, but thinking of Gary made him change his plans. There was plenty of time for Claire, but Gary needed to be taught a lesson.

Or so a voice in the back of his head kept saying.

He paused, listening carefully. The voice, subtle, yet distinct like the tiny pin prick of a needle, had begun whispering things to him ever since he last took Bodian’s transforming concoction. Albert listened to the voice in those moments when he was alone; sometimes even communicating with it. It was Gage, of course, the one who was self-assured, knew exactly what he wanted and didn’t care what others thought. Sometimes Albert wondered if Gage was the best part of him. That’s what the voice was saying now.

He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a half-empty vial. The last time he'd sipped the blue liquid, he'd robbed a store and hurt a girl pretty badly. But he'd also experienced a crazy sense of strength and agility. Just thinking of the overwhelming feeling made him want to guzzle the rest of the liquid, but he had to be careful, he reminded himself. Gage had taken full control, leaving Albert to deal with the aftermath of the crime. He'd already decided to pay back the gas station using money from his savings. He'd right the wrongs of Gage. He was a good person. Unlike his parents, he didn't enjoy hurting others. One day he'd have a respectable job, be a good husband and a great father.

Albert glanced behind him, just barely making out a rock wall through the fog. Just above it was Bandon. Its inhabitants had taught him all that he knew.  One day he’d have his own home here and have the life he always dreamed about, but he couldn't have freaks like Gary screwing it up. He and Gary were going to have to come to an understanding.

He bit the lid off with his teeth and spat it onto the ground. Tipping his head back, he poured the rest of it into his mouth, letting it tingle on his tongue and the sides of his mouth before he swallowed it. He felt the effects immediately. It raced through his gut and to his bones.

Collapsing in the sand, Albert’s back arched, fingers and toes curling. A sound, like bones crunching, filled his ears, but the pain was so much worse than the horrifying noise. It was as if someone had stripped him of his skin and was pulling and tugging on his bones, stretching them beyond their limits. His head shook violently to and fro, faster than he thought possible, and he was afraid any moment his brains might burst from his eye sockets or ooze from his ears.

Saliva foamed in his mouth until it bubbled over and ran down his chin. With his heart pounding fast and hard, he feared this was the end. This surprising revelation made him feel calm. He would miss Claire, though.

But Albert didn’t die. Not really. He was merely shoved aside by a much stronger, powerful version of himself. It was in this split second that Albert realized his mistake. He had been too confident, too self-assured in his abilities to control Gage. The last thought he had before Gage mentally shoved him into the darkest part of his mind was what a fool he was.

Gage inhaled deeply and smiled. He stretched out on the sand as if he’d been stuck in a cramped corner for way too long. Rolling onto his bare stomach, he pushed himself onto all fours, feeling slightly nauseated, but not from the earlier fit—from an indescribable power.

Beneath his skin, his muscles pulsed with energy. Gage flexed them tight and admired the way they had become more defined. He reached up and smoothed his longer, black hair.

Nearby were Albert’s shirt and pants. Gage finished dressing by pulling on a black Bandon High hoodie. He stared into the gray fog hovering just above the ocean; a rock wall was at his back. He remembered what Albert had been thinking only moments ago. The girl who drowned, Claire, and finally Gary. For once Albert had it right—Gary needed to be taught a lesson, but not the tongue lashing Albert had planned; Gary needed his eyes gouged out. No one could look at Claire like she was a Thanksgiving feast except for him.

Instead of walking along the beach, and up to the boardwalk, he went to the rock wall and began to climb. His fingers dug into the jagged surface of the rocks like vulture claws. Recklessly, he scurried up the rock face, leaping impossible distances to get to the next hold. In his mind he pictured Claire, lying on his bed.

With one final bound, he propelled himself upward to solid ground, and onto a trail that either led back to the beach or up toward the road where his bike was parked. He turned in the direction of the road when a faint odor, pleasant and sweet, mixed with the night’s soft breeze. His head snapped toward the beach, but he saw nothing. The fog made sure of that. With the agility of a panther, he silently made his way down the trail to find the source of the one smell that could deter him from Gary.

Gage found her facing the ocean, staring into the heavy fog, a hood pulled over her head. Long dark hair escaped from the covering only to be caught up in the wind, twisting around her face like Medusa’s exquisite snakes. He'd never seen Claire so beautiful. She remained still, like a sea glass sculpture frozen in time by the power of a lightning bolt sent down by Zeus.

He crept up behind her. She remained oblivious to his presence; any sounds he made were muffled by the crashing waves hidden within the fog. He inhaled deeply and reached his hand forward, tracing the back of her head with his fingers, but not touching. His tongue danced in his mouth and his eyes rolled back. Gage moaned, the sound igniting millions of nerves just beneath his skin.

Claire jumped and whirled around. She sucked in a breath at his close proximity, then quickly stepped back. It was only a few seconds before the fear in her eyes was replaced with anger. She watched him for a moment, and he had the distinct impression that she was trying to figure out if she knew him.

Finally she said, "Do you mind? I'm sort of having a moment here—alone."

Gage motioned his head toward the fog. "Death rides the ocean tonight."

She stepped back again. "Who are you?"

He wouldn’t answer her. "The fog seeks a human sacrifice,” he said, licking his lips.
Man, she was beautiful.

Claire looked away. "I don't believe in superstitions."

"No? I assume you don't believe in monsters either?" He moved toward her, too slowly for her to notice—a snake slithering toward its prey.

Claire met his gaze. "Now monsters I do believe in."

"You're a smart girl, Claire.”

She flinched. "How do you know my name?"

"I know more than just your name." She appeared to act casual, but he could smell the sweat breaking on her skin.

"Do you go to Bandon High?" she asked.

"Not really."

"What's your name?" she asked, her eyes searching the landscape behind him. Probably looking for help.

"Gage," he said.

"Gage what?"

"Gage... Anderson."

She nodded. "Uh-huh, sure."

"You look like you’re expecting someone," he said, stepping directly in front of her, forcing her to look at him again.

She raised her chin. "I am. My huge boyfriend.”

Gage shook his head. "You don't have a boyfriend, Claire. You're
available
."

"How would you know? We've never met.”

"Haven't we?" He reached out to touch her arm.

She jerked it away. "I would remember."

"A memory is a funny thing. Some things can't be forgotten."

She took a step to the right. "What are you talking about?"

He blocked her. "Staring into the eyes of death. It's impossible to forget, isn't it?"

She froze and looked at him.

"The girl was beautiful, but stupid," he said.

"I have to go.” She no longer tried to hide her fear. She took three steps past him before he took hold of her arm, stopping her.

"I'll scream," she said.

Gage grinned. "I hope so."

Instead of trying to run, Claire took hold of his shoulder and brought a knee up hard between his legs. He gasped and fell to the ground. She easily shook off his hold and began to run. She went about ten feet before she turned back around and returned to kick him two more times in the stomach, which he loved. This time when she ran away, she didn't stop.

Gage watched her as he lay on his side, face against the cool sand. She attempted to run up the sandy slope toward Bandon. She paused briefly, then changed directions, heading toward the dirt trail just above the cliff. Surely she thought she could out run him more quickly on solid ground. Too bad it didn't matter where she ran.

He stood up, fully recovered. Only when her dark figure had fully disappeared into the darkness and its equally dark partner, the fog, did he chase after her, looking forward to the hunt.

Gage sprinted fast; his strides more like great leaps like that of a lion’s. His heart raced with the thrill and his mind flashed perverse images of what he'd do to her the moment he caught her. He paused, for just a second, to listen to the sound of a terrible screaming within his head. He recognized the voice. Somewhere deep within his subconscious Albert was begging to be free, to try and save his precious Claire.

He picked up his pace, ignoring the pleading voice. A beautiful woman needed his attention.

He veered off the trail and raced up the side of the hill, then turned sharply to run parallel with Claire through thick underbrush while she ran not less than thirty feet away. It took him just a moment to drop back down and cut her off. 

She came to a screeching halt, eyes wide. "What the hell?"

Gage drew in a deep breath and let it out. “You know Hell isn't the place people think it is," he said, circling her. "It's not fire and brimstone. It's not a place where some big-horned red dude works you to the bone. Hell is simply living your worst nightmare over and over again.” He studied her. “What frightens you, Claire?"

Her eyes darted back and forth. Gage smiled. He had her trapped like a fox in a snare, and she knew it. She wouldn't go to her left, up the steep hill, covered in heavy pines and downfallen trees and she wouldn’t dare go down the cliff that he had climbed just moments ago. That left her with trying to pass him or going back the way she came.

Her eyes met his and he could practically hear her thoughts say, "I'll never make it." Gage reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her shoulder.

She flinched. "What do you want?"

"To play with you."

"You're messed up."

"Aren't we all?"

She took a step toward the edge of the cliff. Gage snatched her arm and jerked her body against his. He leaned forward to kiss her, but the sound of a terrible roaring exploded in his head, and he was forced to let her go. Clutching his head in pain, he growled at Albert, "She's not yours."

His eyes snapped up at Claire who was staring at him with a bewildered expression. She'd moved again to the edge.

Gage motioned with his hand. "Get back here."

Her eyes burned cold. "I'd rather die than let you touch me."

"That can be arranged." He lunged for her, but was too slow.

Claire stepped backwards off the cliff. She slid fast, hands outstretched, clawing at anything to break her fall. A rock snagged her hands and she clung to it while her feet struggled to find ground.  She looked upward, toward the heavens, as if begging God to save her.