Noah whipped his foot out suddenly while Stefan’s attention was transfixed on the moving blade. With a violent crash Stefan smashed to the floor as Noah’s leg swept him off his feet. Losing no time, he closed in, leaping on top of Stefan and stabbing the blade deep into his throat. Then, using both hands, he drew the blade across, ripping open a seven-inch weeping gash in the creature’s exposed neck. Blood gurgled and bubbled in the wound as Stefan tried to breathe, his eyes full of terror.
In a frenzy of rage, Noah withdrew the blade and struck over and over again, puncturing Stefan’s chest, stomach, neck, and face. Crying in gleeful ululation as each blow landed home, he sent up a spatter of fresh, warm blood with each wound. The creature raised his arms defensively in an attempt to block Noah’s blows, blood pooling on the floor, seeping ever closer to where Madeline stood transfixed.
She darted in to help Noah.
And then something terrible happened.
Stefan jolted his hip, hitting Noah and knocking him off balance. The creature turned, twisted, and rose to his knees, grabbing the blade of the knife with both hands. Not as strong as the creature, Noah struggled to maintain a hold on the knife as Stefan whipped it around violently in his grasp.
Then the creature’s left hand changed from flesh to metal, the same spike he’d used to destroy her attackers. The flashing metal touched the metal of the blade, melting and seeping over it. Instantly the blade changed form, bursting from Noah’s grip. The creature pushed away from Noah, rising to his feet. Where the blade joined the end of the metallic arm, it sprouted a finger, then four more, joining seamlessly with the creature’s arm until it was a hand.
Howling in agony, Stefan staggered backward, slamming against the wall. The metal hand grew flesh, fingernails. Chest soaked with blood, throat streaming red to the floor, the creature gasped and sputtered, staring at Noah through tearing eyes. “Thanks,” he growled. “I’ve been missing that part for a long time.”
Noah stood up, then froze, staring at the creature running free with blood.
Stefan staggered toward Noah and spat in his face, “I’m coming back for you. And I will kill you.”
Then he pivoted, turning toward Madeline. She gasped when she saw him look at her, eyes dark with pain, face smeared in scarlet, deep knife holes in his cheeks, revealing sections of teeth and glistening blood-streaked bone. He stumbled toward her grimly, and she moved out of his way, hearing the sucking and laboring of his breathing. He was hurt badly, close to death.
But now they had no way to finish him.
Sliding in his own blood, he walked right by her to the front door and went through it.
She looked back at Noah. He was still frozen in the same spot but had turned to watch Stefan go. Madeline didn’t know what to do. She thought of chasing after the creature, pounding on him until he stopped breathing so he couldn’t claim any more victims. But she knew that wouldn’t kill him. Noah had said they needed the weapon. And it was gone.
She glanced out the door. The creature was gone now, too.
“Noah,” she said, turning back around. He gave no indication of hearing her.
“Noah,” she said again softly.
Still he stood there, unblinking, unmoving.
And then he fell to his knees, a great eerie keening escaping his lips. He pressed his blood-soaked hands to his face and sobbed, a terrible long, helpless sound.
15
AFTER kneeling immobile for twenty minutes, deaf to Madeline, Noah staggered into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Sobbing, he rolled into a tight ball, his body shaking. Madeline went to him, sat next to him. Stroking his back soothingly, she said softly, “Noah… we’ll think of something.”
But he sobbed even harder at her words and shrugged away from her touch. Still she sat on the edge of the bed, watching his heaving and shaking body.
Mucus streamed from his nose, mingling with tears. Only occasionally he’d suck in a deep breath, shuddering, wheezing, and another great wail would explode from him. It was the kind of crying she hadn’t done herself since she lost Ellie, the day she learned for the first time what death was.
She rose and retrieved a big wad of toilet paper from Noah’s backpack. Placing it down by his hand, she stood over him, concerned. He pushed it away, mucus already soaking into the bedspread, streaming down his cheek and lips. His crying grew so loud she began to wonder if neighbors would call in complaints.
Then she sat down again, watching him. She sat there for a long time, and his crying only got worse. She didn’t think it was possible for someone to cry for that long. She remembered how much her lungs and stomach had ached that day she’d cried for three hours straight.
She tried to talk to him, soothe him, murmur to him, hold him. Nothing helped. He stopped pushing her away and just lay there helplessly, limply, sobs convulsing his body. She lay down beside him. And then, after four hours, he simply stopped. He lay limply, his back to her. Madeline thought he might be asleep, but when she peered over his shoulder she found him staring fixedly at some point in the distance, his mind a million miles away.
“Noah?” she asked softly.
No response. He was far away.
Each breath shook his body, his lungs not yet recovered from the weeping. She continued to lie next to him, her arm cradling him, body spooning him. Soon she drifted off to sleep.
A little later she startled awake, lying next to Noah. He still lay in the same position, still staring at some fixed point in the distance. Her outburst hadn’t even made him stir. His eyes, dry and bloodshot, didn’t even blink. “Noah?” she asked.
No response.
She looked at his watch. Five hours had passed. Beyond the curtains, light gleamed.
“Noah.” This time she shook him gently. His eyes slowly closed, but he said nothing. She decided she should leave him alone for a while, give him some space.
She rose, straightening her rumpled clothes. Quietly she picked through Noah’s clothes and grabbed a clean turtleneck and a fresh pair of Noah’s jeans. They were big on her, hanging low on her hips, but it was the only pair of clean pants she could find. In the front room, she scrubbed up as much of the creature’s dried blood as she could, using a towel and water from Noah’s water bottle. She couldn’t get it all up, though, especially where it had seeped into the wood, creating a dark stain.
She was careful not to touch any of it.
After a brief, lukewarm shower in the camp bathroom, she stood in front of the steamy mirror brushing her teeth. Her cut looked a lot better, and she didn’t think she needed a new bandage. She gently touched the cut and thought about Noah. If he was still lying there motionless when she finished, she’d go out and get them some food. Then she’d have to think of a plan.
They may have lost Noah’s weapon, but she still had her ability to sense where the creature might be heading next. Was she no longer in danger? He certainly could have killed her yesterday, but he hadn’t. Maybe he was just playing games as Noah said.
She rinsed, gathered up her things, and returned to the cabin. In the bedroom, Noah still lay motionless, his eyes still closed. But the rapid rate of his breathing let her know he wasn’t sleeping.
She stared at him worriedly. Was he having a nervous breakdown? Or just a moment of futility? Maybe food would help. She didn’t think he’d eaten since breakfast the day before.
She looked at his watch: 1:30 p.m. Grabbing the cabin key, she left, locking the door behind her. The store lay just a quarter mile away on the narrow campground road. For a moment she stood on the porch, eyes darting nervously from side to side. But she was tired of being terrified, and now that they’d lost the weapon, she didn’t know how they could kill the creature, anyway. She was in just as much danger trapped inside the cabin as she was on the move out here, surrounded by people.