FATE'S PAST Page 9

  Cameron, feigning contemplation for a few moments, said, “Well, I’ve only got three words in response.”

  “Oh? And what are those words?”

  “Fuck New Orleans!”

  They both laughed, kissed, and headed to the front of the restaurant. When they exited, the day was unchanged—quiet, still, and lifeless. The roads were again empty, so they crossed with less trepidation than before. They strolled to the hotel with purpose in their steps.

  When they walked into the hotel, it was empty, but Cameron noticed a glimmer near the silent bell.

  “Wait up,” he said as he pulled Carrie back. He walked to the front desk and saw a pair of keys resting near the bell. “What the hell,” he said.

  “Are those yours?” she asked.

  “Yup,” he said. “These are mine.”

  “Huh, maybe for once, you actually didn’t lose them.”

  “See. I’m not lying when I say the boogieman moves my shit. That’s why I can’t ever find anything.”

  “Yeah, fine. Just get your keys and let’s get out of here.”

  He complied with her request, and they proceeded to the elevator without delay. As the elevator rose, Cameron looked at Carrie and whispered, “You know, I’m not sure we have done worse.”

  Carrie smiled. “You’re right. I’m ready to admit that this is far and away the worst. Bar none.”

  When they arrived to their room, they packed up their belongings. As Carrie was packing, Cameron took a moment to feel his pocket and ensure that Carrie’s ring remained within. And so it rested.

  Before leaving, he took a moment to look around the confines of the shitty hotel room, and Carrie said, “Fuck New Orleans. And fuck Louisiana.” Bags in hand, they headed down to lobby to pay and return home.

  The lobby was desolate. The old man was not even manning the reception desk. Cameron walked over and caught himself before he tried ringing the broken bell.

  “Hello? Are you there, sir? We need to check out!” No response. Looking both ways, he slipped behind the reception desk and knocked on the door behind the desk twice. “Excuse me, sir, are you there?” Again, there was only silence. And so he took a long sigh, reached for the door handle, turned, and pulled.

  Behind the door was nothingness. Complete and utter darkness stretched out without end. He knew it was the infinite void in which he was lost the night before. And in the distance, he saw the sparse outline of the horrible eyes. But before they could come any closer, Cameron slammed the door shut.

  Carrie, from behind the reception desk, yelled, “Hey, you okay? Did you find the man?”

  Cameron, stunned for a moment, said, “No, he wasn’t there. Let’s just leave. I’ll call him when we get back to Texas to give him my credit card number.”

  “You sure, babe? I feel kind of bad about that.”

  “Don’t,” he said with conviction as he turned to face her. “I promise you. There’s no need to feel bad. Let’s just get the hell out of this place.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He darted over to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to the exit. “Slow down, babe,” Carrie said. “What’s the rush?”

  “Just want to get you home.”

  Cameron headed for the passenger side door of his car, unlocked it, and opened the door for Carrie. “Why thank you, kind sir,” Carrie said as she sat down. After she sat, he shut the door and sprinted over to the other side. He entered, slammed the door, shoved his key into the ignition, and accelerated to the entry of the hotel. Without stopping, Cameron drove into the street, and without turning, drove straight into the grassy median. Cameron’s car jolted and shook because of the rough terrain. When the car met pavement again, he twisted the wheel leftward, forcing the front of the car to pull hard. The car sputtered and lifted, and for a moment, he thought it would take off and flip, ending their trip prematurely. But the car regained balance and they both sighed as Cameron drove towards home.

  “Jesus, Cameron,” she cried, “what the hell has gotten into you?”

  “Sorry,” he said, although he felt far from apologetic. “I just wanted to get out of there. The sooner, the better.”

  “Well, that’s certainly understandable. Can you make me a promise?”

  Cameron looked at Carrie, mystified. “Promise? What promise?”

  She batted her eyes at him. “Promise that, if we ever have to come back to Louisiana, we’ll fly.”

  He laughed, relaxation setting into his tone. “I’m safe making that promise––I doubt we’ll be headed back to Louisiana any time soon.”

  “That works for me.” She laid her head back onto the seat rest and closed her eyes. The place they had just left was feeling much farther away than its actual distance, and though she realized certain memories may come crashing in like waves to interrupt the calm sands of her mind, she also knew that, over time, those waves would become gentler and infrequent. She may even eventually learn to surf upon them.

  “You okay, babe?” he asked.

  “Yup,” she replied.

  “Tired?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why do you have your eyes closed?”

  She smiled, took his hand, and replied, “I want to enjoy this moment, unspoiled.”

  Cameron looked at her, amazed that she could look so beautiful after such an ordeal. They had escaped in one piece with only mental scarring to bandage. And, in a way, he was grateful for his recent adventures with her. And no matter what the future held for them, they would forever have Hotel Louisiana and their no-breakfast breakfast at the restaurant.

  A thought crossed his mind. Maybe now is the moment. They had been through so much, and each survived with the help of the other. He suspected that they would never again experience such a lowly high moment as driving away from that hellhole. Yes, he thought. She wanted spontaneity…well, there was nothing routine about the shit we just went through. And we survived.

  Cameron reached into his pocket and placed the circle of the ring between his index and middle finger. He sighed, and thought for a moment about the definition of forever. “Carrie,” he whispered, “I have something to ask you.”

  She slowly turned her head and opened her eyelids, and the light green irises blinded him. She always seemed to stare straight into his essence. “What’s that, babe?”

  And that’s when Cameron’s car was rocked by the thump.

  II.

  The momentum from the thump shook Carrie; she lurched forward as Cameron hit the brakes, her head nearly hitting the dash.

  “What the hell was that?” she cried. Cameron pulled over to the side of the road quickly after hearing the thump. Although he had not seen the source of the sound, Cameron knew the moment he heard it that whatever he had hit was considerable in mass. It sure as hell hadn’t been a bird or small animal.

  No, Cameron thought, whatever I hit was big, goddammit.

  “I think I hit something,” Cameron muttered, stating the obvious.

  “I realize that Cam, but what did you hit? I didn’t see because I was looking at you.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t see it, either.” He retraced the event in his mind and realized he couldn’t have taken his eyes off the road for more than a second or two. And he was too wide awake to have missed something that large before looking at Carrie. He concluded that whatever he had hit must have sprinted out onto the road moments before his endearing glance at Carrie.

  “I’ll go look.” His voice drifted as he analyzed the benefits and drawbacks of investigating further. The road was barren, so the chance that there was a witness to the accident was infinitesimal. But he was in no mood to compute statistics—he may have hit a pedestrian, and that pedestrian may need help. And that’s all that mattered.

  She grabbed his shoulder. “You sure, babe?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure. I’ll be right back.”

  Cameron exited the vehicle, shielded his eyes from the sun,
and looked towards his collateral damage. He was about to start walking towards the wreckage, but the sound of Carrie’s door opening interrupted him.

  “Babe, stay in the car,” he commanded.

  Carrie shot Cameron her best that ain’t gonna happen look. “Cameron, I’m coming with you. End of discussion.”

  “Fine. But please be careful, sweetie.”

  She lifted three fingers on her right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  He took her hand and they both began the journey towards the inanimate and indecipherable thing that lay unmoving on the pavement. They walked on the side of the road to avoid possible oncoming traffic. As they walked, Cameron couldn’t shake a sneaking suspicion their journey was not quite finished.

  They walked about a hundred feet and Cameron said, “Wait here.” He released Carrie’s hand, kissed her right cheek, and walked towards the damaged thing. She could not see well because of the sun, so as soon as Cameron was about twenty feet away from her, she followed again.

  * * *

  Cameron finally saw what he had hit. The dog lay sprawled out on the road, although there wasn’t any blood splatter. He walked closer and reviewed the animal to find any signs of life. The dog remained motionless, but otherwise seemed unharmed from Cameron’s vantage point.

  Cameron kneeled by the dog’s body and studied the damage. The dog was large and broad with a copper coat. There was a streak of white down his chest and his head was rectangular. His small, triangular ears lay limp on his crown, and his jaw was agape, which revealed his sharp fangs.

  Cameron placed his hand on the dog’s copper fur and stroked up and down. “I’m sorry, boy,” he whispered. He felt an uptick in anger towards his reckless behavior. Why the hell wasn’t I watching the road? he thought. Yet he was distracted for only a moment, so he would have likely hit the dog even had he been paying close attention.

  As Cameron reassured himself, he heard a noise. Faint at first, the grumble soon became a growl, and he shifted his sight downward and met the open eyes of the dog looking upwards. The dog’s eyes were dark green, too large, and their black ovals were too substantial. His eyes shined with primitive desire that lacked compassion or forethought. The dog’s eyes were inhuman and unapologetic, and Cameron knew he had seen them before. And in that moment, he realized that he had also seen the beast before.

  The beast’s lips drew back in a snarl, and he lunged, latching onto Cameron’s right hand.

  * * *

  Carrie finally saw what Cameron had hit. The girl lay motionless on the pavement. Shaking off shock, Carrie walked closer to the girl until she could see the full scope of Cameron’s wreckage.

  The girl on the road looked young but tall for her age. Her hair was sandy blonde, unkempt and unruly, and the round lenses of her large glasses mirrored the dimensions of her face. The girl wore high-water pants with a raggedy t-shirt emblazoned with a picture of a unicorn.

  It only took a few seconds for Carrie to realize that she recognized the struck girl—Gretchen Gissel. Carrie had gone to high school with Gretchen, and had thought about her many times since graduation.

  Gretchen opened her eyes to reveal piercing deep blue irises—though they used to gleam with intellect and curiosity, the eyes that fixated on Cameron seethed with vitriol.

  Gretchen screamed, grabbed Cameron’s arm, and blood poured from her wrists onto his right hand.

  * * *

  The pain of the beast’s bite struck every nerve in Cameron’s right hand as he screamed in agony. He twisted and jerked as blood flowed from his wounds. Its teeth were sharper than any knife, and the force with which the beast bit was terrible. Worse still were the horrible eyes that fixed on Cameron, uncaring, unquestioning.

  Cameron stood quickly and kicked the beast with every ounce of his remaining strength. It did not budge, so he kicked again and again, and with each kick the beast lessened its bite. He then reared back and punched the beast square in the area between its two awful eyes.

  It released its bite and wobbled backwards two steps. But its eyes did not move.

  Wasting no time, Cameron turned and fled into the nearby woods, and the beast followed.

  * * *

  Carrie watched in horror as Cameron flung about in desperation but could not seem to force Gretchen to release her grip. Her blood covered his hands as he kicked her several times in the ribs. Cameron then punched Gretchen, and she submitted. Once free, Cameron ran into the woods near the road.

  “Cameron!” Carrie screamed before she sprinted after Cameron. Gretchen shifted her gaze to Carrie, which stopped Carrie in her tracks. Gretchen’s eyes grew large. The silence hung in the air for a few moments before Gretchen screamed, “Whhhyyyyyy?” She leapt to her feet and followed Cameron into the trees.

  Part Four

  The Journey

  I.

  The endless branches scraped and scratched Cameron’s face as he sprinted through the daunting woods. The morning light revealed all, and in every direction Cameron saw the same—mirrored tree after mirrored tree, but none possessed identifiable differentiating marks or unique physicals traits. Every tree was of similar height and width. Each trunk was the same dark brown color with the same indentations. Every branch was of comparable length, and all the leaves bore the same yellowish-green tint. The absolute immutability of it all was at best unsettling and at worst terrifying. There was something wrong about those woods, and although Cameron did not understand the full scope of this wrongness, he also knew that he did not care to explore it any further than necessary.

  But Cameron knew as he ran that it was necessary for him to delve deeper into the mirrored woods than he would have liked; for however disconcerting the woods were, the beast that tracked him was far more horrifying. And he needed to draw the beast away from Carrie.

  As he ran, he rubbed the areas around the bite marks that the beast’s teeth left; they were profound reminders of its power and aggression. The pain was unlike any he had ever experienced. Both dull and sharp, throbbing and constant, the pain tiptoed from the bite marks and into every skin follicle, hair, and nail. The pain went deep, deeper than he ever thought possible for such a minor wound. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that he even felt the pain in his lungs, intestines, and heart. The pain reached the crevasses of Cameron’s being. It even seemed to touch his soul.

  Stop thinking crazy, he told himself. The pain is fear, nothing more. But the pain continued to spread, causing the muscles in his arms and legs to tighten. His biceps and triceps pulsated, his vision blurred. His lungs took in less breath, and his eyelids drooped. Even the muscles driving his fingers and toes felt as though they were giving in to the wound.

  Worst of all was the toll the beast’s bite was taking on Cameron’s mind. His usual spitfire processes were dulling, and his will was caving. His mind’s eye was even blurrier than his actual vision, and his sense of direction disappeared. He slowly realized that he did not know in what direction he was running or how long he had been sprinting towards that unknown course. He possessed no concept of how far he was from the car, and worse, how far he was from Carrie’s embrace. All he knew were the passing trees, and their receptiveness added to the grayness that loomed over his existence.

  Cameron prided himself on his will to live. He had confronted many of life’s horrors from a young age, and although he had not handled these horrors in the most mature or effective ways, he had handled them. He dealt with every bruise, scar, and death to the best of his ability without letting them break him.

  But as he ran, he realized that, for the first time in his life, his will was giving. His mind was breaking. His inner strength was corroding. And it was not the pain itself that was causing him to weaken. There was something foreign and yet familiar about the spread of the weakness.

  Cameron’s legs gave up, and his will soon followed. He rested on the hard, scentless earth; his hands and knees could barely support his weight
. The beats of his heart decelerated and the flow of his blood slowed down. The muscles of his back untangled, and his jaw fell agape. His breathing became a calm, rhythmic melody.

  Through the inner fog, Cameron thought of his last conversation with his mother. And as he kneeled, he repeated that statement to himself over and over. Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

  The sound of rustling woke Cameron, and he lifted his head to scan the woods for any means of escape. He understood that he could not outrun the beast, nor could he outlast it. He would instead have to outsmart and outmaneuver it to survive. And then he saw his means of escape.

  A brown rope hung from a tree to Cameron’s right. Under normal conditions, a rope would be a godsend. But he was far from his normal condition. His toned muscles felt shriveled. His loss of confidence was more impactful. He was not certain he could ascend the rope even if he could rise to his feet and approach it. But if he could not find the will to climb, the beast’s claws would rip him to shreds.

  The rustling of the leaves grew louder, as did Cameron’s internal monologue. Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.

  Cameron breathed the motionless air deep into his lungs. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Rotating it in the sunlight, flecks of yellow, white, and green sparkled and danced. He knew Carrie was looking for him, which meant she may find the beast instead. If he did not survive, she would not give up her search until she found his body, or the beast’s teeth found her. He could not allow that to happen, could not permit the beast to harm Carrie. He had to survive; he had to protect Carrie.

  Through the sparkles of that ring, Cameron witnessed his future. Each glimmer was a new laughter, a new house, a child. Each represented the future he so craved, what he had been searching for his entire life and did not believe he deserved. And though he was on his knees before the beast, he knew he was the luckiest person in the world because Carrie was looking for him. Carrie loved him, loved him for his flaws. Loved him for his anger, and for his attempts to curb it. Loved him for his self-doubt, and his reception to her efforts to lift his confidence. Loved him for the terrible memories that plagued his existence, and for his appreciation of the new memories he was creating with her.