“There’s a driveway over there,” I pointed.
The creature had made it another fifty feet but was lying still again. The bees descended on it in a swarm. The noise was thunderous.
We got Dolan up on his feet and put his arms around our shoulders. He was looking a little better and even gurgled some words that sounded like either “a plan” or “the pain!” The front of his shirt was stained with drool.
It took us a little while to get in sight of the house. Dolan was still breathing, but Iris and I were doing all the work. There were porch lights on at one point, and I noted it to Iris, but when I looked back they had been turned out. There was a string of faded prayer flags hanging on the porch. In the yard, a metal sculpture covered in glass bottles clinked in the wind.
We heard shuffling behind the door when we buzzed the buzzer.
“Hey! Hey!” Iris said and kept pressing the button. I was stooped under the weight of Dolan.
It was starting to get late. The sky was draining of color, and I could no longer see the sun through the patchwork of trees. I scratched the back of my neck where the bee had stung me and felt the hard, swelling bump.
Iris kept banging away.
Finally, a man and a woman opened the door. They were both wearing scarves around their necks, gloves, and long-sleeve tie-dyed shirts. I myself was sweating puddles in a shirt and jeans. I was worried they were from one of those weird religions that thought flesh was an abomination.
The bundled couple surveyed us for a few seconds. “You with the government?” the man said when he’d worked up to our faces. His beard was overgrown, and there were little pink crumbs dotting his red lips.
“Well, he works for the Department of Education,” I said, pointing a thumb at Dolan.
Iris gave me a look that made me shut up quick. “What?” she said. “No, we aren’t with the government. We got in an accident down the road because some bird ran in front of us, or flew or something, and my friend got stung by bees, and he can’t get stung by bees because it makes him swell up and not breathe, and we need to use a phone to get him to a hospital quick, please!”
“We don’t have a phone up here,” the man said slowly. “We try to live in harmony with our surroundings.” Other than the clothes that covered most of their flesh, the two of them looked healthy and vital. When they smiled, I could see all of their teeth.
Soon a small girl, also covered up to her chin, appeared between their legs. “Can they stay for dinner?” the child said.
“George,” the woman said tenderly. “Invite them in. We’re still all children of the same cosmos, aren’t we?”
The woman guided us to a couch to rest Dolan on. His chest was rising and falling rhythmically now. His face was still grotesque, but it seemed he’d live.
“I’ll make some herbal tea that will soothe his throat,” the woman said. She told us her name was Feather and shook a pair of feathers stuck in her braid. “Like these,” she said.
“Tell me again what this crow looked like,” George said. He tied his own long hair back in a ponytail. “Don’t spare any details.”
After we went over it again, he said he’d go take a look at our car and headed out.
When they’d both left, I leaned over and rubbed Iris’s back. The sun was fading and letting in warm, pink light.
“It’s kind of romantic up here, isn’t it?” I whispered.
Iris was wiping drool off Dolan’s chin. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said.
I don’t know why I’d said it. I think I was just trying to lighten the mood, because I was starting to get weirded out about the place. The last light of the day had slithered away, and the woman in the kitchen was knocking pots together. I kept thinking about the three-eyed goat and roadkill crow.
“Maybe we shouldn’t drink anything,” I said. “There might be something in the water up here.”
“What do you know about water purity?” she said.
“I’m just saying I don’t know about these people. They’re wrapped up like mummies in the middle of summer.”
“Now you’re a fashion expert too?” Iris hissed.
Lately, Iris and I were always talking like this. We’d been good in the beginning, but along the way things had fallen off the rails. Maybe it was her fault, and maybe it was mine. More likely it was Dolan’s, but either way we were fighting more, and I was waking up every morning cold and angry.
The day drained away with Iris and Dolan on one couch and me stewing in my private stew. In that way, it was becoming too much like every other day.
Iris said it wasn’t polite to walk around without permission, but sitting still was making me paranoid. Maybe it was the stale air in that room or the finger paintings of wildlife on the walls. Iris was rubbing Dolan’s chest and telling him it would be okay. I kept thinking about Dolan and Iris naked and undulating against each other’s pink flesh. The beesting on my neck was still swelling, and it hurt to touch. I took a few sips of Feather’s tepid, salmon-colored tea.
At some point, I nodded off.
In my dream, I was in a field of corn. The corn immediately around me had been flattened into a crop circle by asshole teenagers. The stalks around the circle were taller than me and bright green. They were so fresh they were dripping with perspiration.
The old goat with the eye in the middle of its head walked out of the corn and into the circle. The crow was riding on its head between the horns. It flopped off the goat’s head and scurried across the downed corn toward me, pulling itself forward with its wings. It began cawing and crawling up my leg. Then it expired and fell to the ground.
The goat let out a tortured howl, and I looked back up. It stared at me with all three eyes. A seam appeared above its nose, then stretched back across its head. When the seam made its way around to the chin, the goat’s skin and dirty white fur fell off, half to the left and half to the right.
I was wrong about the crow. It had come back to life and was trying to scale my leg. I could feel its claws digging into my shin.
Underneath the goat’s skin was a bloody mess that looked nothing like a goat. Then I realized it wasn’t a goat, it was Dolan! He was naked and covered in blood. There were rows of spikes going down his arms and legs.
“What the hell is up with you and Iris?” I said.
In response, the Dolan-goat let out another tortured howl, and another seam appeared. I could see something black and rubbery inside. Before this new seam could fully open, I was awoken to another Dolan shouting. This Dolan had one hand gripping my arm and the other gripping Iris’s.
“Ow!” she said, then, “You’re awake, thank god.”
I guess his throat was still swollen up, because he could barely talk. His words sounded like someone gargling with blood. “He’s cutting the brake lines.”
“Who?”
“He must destroy one vessel to trap another.”
Feather was two rooms away. I saw her poke her head out the kitchen door and squint at us.
Iris’s eyes were wild, but I was confused. “What are you even talking about, Dolan?”
“The bearded man,” Dolan said, talking more quietly now and spitting up a bit of blood and foam.
“You mean George?” Iris said. “He’s fixing the car. We’re getting out of here and getting you to a hospital. You’ll be all right, I promise. You’re gonna be A-OK.”
Dolan closed his again. He seemed to be falling back to sleep.
“No. I heard him tell the woman,” he said.