To begin with the Prologue of this serial novel, Monarch, please start here.
Chapter Three
Kevin finished unpacking his things into the tiny chest of drawers. He liked the room, and it had a similar feel to the lobby—someone certainly tried hard to make this little motel clean and presentable. The room was just like any other you’d see at a motel with only six rooms. It had a small closet that housed a built-in ironing board and an old iron. The bathroom left little room for anything else but standing, but the tub seemed big enough for him to soak—a great time for new ideas, at least in Kevin’s opinion. A twin bed took up most of the space in the room, and a small couch sat under the window, leaving only inches to navigate between the two pieces of furniture. A television rested on top of the drawers, just opposite the bed, and a small writing desk snuggled nicely in one corner with a few postcards and envelopes stacked on top. The desk had long rivets and scars running down the surface.
He plopped down on the bed, exhausted. The drive from Charlotte, North Carolina, Kevin's hometown, took several more hours than he’d expected. It seemed like forever since he’d seen and kissed his wife, Cami,goodbye and his thoughts drifted to her. They had been fighting more and more lately, and this time away from each other would act as a mini-separation to help them collect their thoughts and make the relationship better. For a while, hell seemed to have taken board in their lives, ruining what they held most dear. He loved her though, and he conscientiously tried to make the changes in himself. He missed her already. Hopefully, the separation wouldn’t be long term, hopefully it would work—he simply couldn’t bear to be without her.
The phone rang, startling him from his thoughts. He picked it up on the third ring and said, “This is Kevin.”
Only static. The noise lasted a few seconds and then cut out, leaving Kevin in silence. He heard a voice. Someone, a woman, spoke very softly—but he heard the tone and knew it was a woman. Cami? For some reason, Kevin thought of the storm. The electric smell of thunder and lighting seemed to emit from the phone. A faint rotting smell made the sensation more complex and strange—and then it was over. He stared at the phone a few seconds before placing it back in its cradle. He immediately picked it up again without thinking, and dialed his home in Charlotte.
He had just dialed the number when the television clicked on. The machine looked several years old, so the tubes took some time to heat and produce a clear picture. A few seconds past, Kevin watching curiously as the channels changed on their own, stopping on a Spanish speaking soap opera. He chuckled and placed the phone back in the cradle, crossed the room and turned the television off. The switch jiggled too loosely and the television did not respond.
“Well, what did you expect?” Kevin muttered, and he reached for the phone again, this time to call the front desk.
The image suddenly changed and the angle now captured a long road, trees lining it completely. A single truck drove down the road, the leaves swirling behind it in little whirlwinds. In the east, a storm brewed, much like the one he had just seen outside, but even more dark and intense. The angle did not change, but followed the truck as it approached. Seconds past and the angle did not change. The truck just neared. Kevin had seen shots as long as this in other movies, and he didn’t think that this was French. The mind liked change on the screen, or it got bored, even subconsciously. The scene captured the beauty of this town and the surrounding areas—as if the film had been shot very near Mapleton. It almost seemed live. The colors and lighting were exactly as he had seen it when he drove into town.
The image changed again and the camera then moved with the truck. He could see two people sitting together in the cab, a man and a woman. They spoke to each other, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Kevin knelt close to the screen, looking down the street on which the truck drove. A sign stood on the side of the road announcing their arrival into Mapleton City limits. A shot of static blurred the image for a brief second and Kevin felt a twinge of panic followed by a chill. The picture regained its clarity. For a moment, Kevin thought that the film welcomed visitors at the motel—but a certain quality gnawed at the edges of Kevin’s mind. Something seemed unreal about the image. The picture was too clear for the television, and even if it had been a high definition television, the picture was still too perfect. It was as if Kevin were watching the event unfold himself.
The truck continued to drive, and the camera followed along with it. He moved closer to the television, so close his nose almost touched. Perhaps a mile down the road, in the direction the truck drove, stood a lone figure, silhouetted against the sun shining through the trees. The chill that he had felt earlier, intensified to the point where he shivered. The figure, the shadow, stood there and watched the truck approach. A deep sense of foreboding filled Kevin’s chest. The film played on the television—if it was a film—but it had to be a film, he thought, what else could it be? The images appeared so real but random and illogical at the same time. It inspired more uneasiness than he had ever felt before while watching a movie. Kevin touched the screen with his fingers and continued to watch.
***
The sun faded quickly into the west, but still had the strobe effect as it shone through the trees and into the truck as it sped by. Jamie thought about their house, taken in to an almost hypnotic state by the flashing colors and light just outside the window.
“So,” Jamie said slowly, “are we going to build a one or two story?”
Tim cocked his head to one side thoughtfully, and then said, “I think two stories, with four rooms or so. If we have more than four kids then they can just share rooms or we can just build on.”
“Kids?” she said, her eyebrow raised slightly, “I thought you didn’t want kids right away.” He laughed and squeezed her knee slightly.
“I think maybe we could start sooner than later. I mean, we’ll have a house and all.” She took hold of his arm and snuggled close to him. He tried to change the subject, a little uneasy about how quickly she grasped at the idea of children.
“You want to watch a movie tonight?” he asked. “We could get a scary one.”
She started to answer but movement up ahead caught her eye. Someone stood just beyond the tree line, in the shadows, watching them. The person shadow reached into the branches, impossibly tall, and it silhouetted against the setting sun, making it appear black. She jumped slightly, pulling away from Tim and pointing off into the foliage, “do you see that guy over-“,
But she stopped when she realized that Tim wasn’t paying attention. The person stood too far from the road to be immediately visible, and they passed the shadow quickly—Tim not even noticing. She turned to look behind them as they drove, and realized that he had stepped out from the trees and stared at her from almost the center of the road. She faced forward, quickly. Tim put his hand on her leg and asked, “Did you say something?”
“Nothing… it’s nothing.” She said, slightly disturbed, “I just thought I saw something on the side of the road.” She had seen the guy, and he had been watching her. She doubted at first, but the fact that he had walked to the center of the road and stared at them as they drove off into the swirling leaves confirmed it. The man had been tall; enormous even, and though the sunlight blocked his features at first, giving the appearance of darkness, when the person stepped out of the trees he looked as dark and shadow covered as he had while standing in the dimness of the forest. The sight of him caused a lump of anxiety to build in her throat and cut off her rationality. What if the man followed them home, snuck into their house while they slept and did a smiley face number on their lips with a knife – the image of Tim in bed, his mouth cut open up the sides of his face… she put her fingers to her temples and massaged deeply, completely unaware as to where these thoughts came from.
What if it wasn’t a man at all, but some demonic creature that wanted not to bathe in their blood, but to feast on their souls? A monster. It was a monster, she knew without knowing. And it wanted them—it wanted her. To hunt. To kill. She thought that it would put a log in the road ahead, so they would have to stop. Or throw rocks. She shuddered at the thought, breathing heavily. She told herself to calm down, to think of something else. She knew that her grip on control and reality was slipping.
“Honey?” Tim asked, noticing her sudden withdraw from the conversation, “what is it? What’s the matter?”
Jamie began to answer, but before she could a jolt shot through her mind, much like she imagined it would feel like if she stuck her fingers into an electricity socket and recharged her body. The bolt caused a bright light to flood her eyes and thought, replaced by fuzz that melted into the edges of her vision. A sudden, pounding headache filled her head, but seemed different than any other sort of pain she had ever felt in her head before. It felt like someone trying to rip open her mind like a can of fruit without the can opener. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear her mind, but couldn’t. Tim continued to stare at her, worried now. He massaged her leg gently.
“Baby? Are you all right?”
She screamed a horrible bellow and slapped his hand away. Instantly she looked up at him and began to cry. She said, “Tim… something is wrong with-“
Her sentence cut short as a large rock launched through the air toward their car. Tim saw it coming, but for the second and a half that it soared toward them, he watched it, as if it sailed in slow motion. He reached out, instinctively, to hold Jamie in her seat as the rock slammed into the windshield. The rock lodged in the glass, sending spider webs to the edges and obscuring any chance of seeing. Tim swerved to the right just as another rock crashed through the driver’s side window. The glass imploded into the car and the rock hit Tim in the head, splattering blood onto Jamie’s face. She screamed as the truck spun out of control and veered off the road.
The figure stood on the side of the road and just beyond the trees, watching them. Jamie felt her sanity slipping, no longer certain it was a person, though it looked and felt like a human being. The eyes could not be seen but she still felt them boring a hole into her like a scalding-hot nail being pushed through her soul. Jamie stared for only a second longer before the truck smashed into a tree. Her head rocketed forward into the dashboard, slicing a large gash across her forehead. Blood flooded her eyes as she turned to look at her husband. He lay motionless in the seat beside her, blood pouring from a slash in his head and pooling on the seat below him. His once blond hair matted in red globs against his head – she could see his skull under a torn flap of skin.
“Tim!” She screamed, grabbing his head and pulling him into her arms, kissing him not out of passion, but out of the fear of losing him. Kissing brought him close to her, unified them. “Tim! Wake up!” She suddenly remembered the figure in the woods and jerked her head up, looking wildly into the forest surrounding the truck.
Nothing. No sign of the figure or who ever had thrown the rocks at their truck. The person smiled at me, she thought. Jamie shook her head and focused again on her unconscious husband. His chest heaved with breath—in and out, and she heaved a sigh of relief. But a red stream of blood now ran off the seats to the floor of the car. Blood from his body—she knew that if she didn’t stop the bleeding, he would lose too much. Bleed out and die. Tears rolled down her face, mixing with the blood and dripping onto Tim. She held him tightly and closed her eyes.
It watched her, staring with a vivid and piercing look that almost made her vomit. She felt a sensation like she had never felt before, as if the thing had suddenly become a part of her, searching the darkest corners of her mind and body. A sickening, rotting smell filled her nostrils, causing that strange muscle in her throat to quiver. The smell reminded her of time when an animal somehow got between the drywall and the outside of her house and died. The sick, rancid odor of death with a slightly sweet twist, as if someone had recently doused a dead animal with sweet bath oils, floated through the air. Her dying husband in her lap, their truck totaled, and yet she could think of nothing other than this thing that stood somewhere beyond their twisted-metal cage.
The radio burst to life, exploding with static and a jumble of songs and commentary, then grew suddenly quiet. From deep within the speakers, almost created by the magnets themselves, came a gravely, guttural voice that stung her eyes and the smell intensified.
“What do you fear?” the voice asked. Jamie listened, her entire body shaking. She spit blood and tears from her mouth and it rolled down her chin. She cried harder.
“Answer…” it said through the speakers. Static again burst, drowning out the awful potential of further conversation with this voice.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed, slamming her fist into the dash. The radio fell silent. Suddenly, something hit the side of the truck and sent a deafening, crunching sound into the tiny cab. The truck lifted off the ground and tumbled across the street. It rolled several times until it smashed another tree and stopped, resting on its roof. The metal creaked and groaned under the weight of the truck. Julie undid her seat belt and crashed to the roof of the car. Outside, shattered glass spread out over the road. She maneuvered herself next to her husband and held him close, kissing his cheek and pressing her head into his shoulder.
Glass crunched outside the truck as someone walked toward them. The speakers sparked to life once again, “I am coming. I am here.”
“Baby? Are you all right?”
She screamed a horrible bellow and slapped his hand away. Instantly she looked up at him and began to cry. She said, “Tim… something is wrong with-“
Her sentence cut short as a large rock launched through the air toward their car. Tim saw it coming, but for the second and a half that it soared toward them, he watched it, as if it sailed in slow motion. He reached out, instinctively, to hold Jamie in her seat as the rock slammed into the windshield. The rock lodged in the glass, sending spider webs to the edges and obscuring any chance of seeing. Tim swerved to the right just as another rock crashed through the driver’s side window. The glass imploded into the car and the rock hit Tim in the head, splattering blood onto Jamie’s face. She screamed as the truck spun out of control and veered off the road.
The figure stood on the side of the road and just beyond the trees, watching them. Jamie felt her sanity slipping, no longer certain it was a person, though it looked and felt like a human being. The eyes could not be seen but she still felt them boring a hole into her like a scalding-hot nail being pushed through her soul. Jamie stared for only a second longer before the truck smashed into a tree. Her head rocketed forward into the dashboard, slicing a large gash across her forehead. Blood flooded her eyes as she turned to look at her husband. He lay motionless in the seat beside her, blood pouring from a slash in his head and pooling on the seat below him. His once blond hair matted in red globs against his head – she could see his skull under a torn flap of skin.
“Tim!” She screamed, grabbing his head and pulling him into her arms, kissing him not out of passion, but out of the fear of losing him. Kissing brought him close to her, unified them. “Tim! Wake up!” She suddenly remembered the figure in the woods and jerked her head up, looking wildly into the forest surrounding the truck.
Nothing. No sign of the figure or who ever had thrown the rocks at their truck. The person smiled at me, she thought. Jamie shook her head and focused again on her unconscious husband. His chest heaved with breath—in and out, and she heaved a sigh of relief. But a red stream of blood now ran off the seats to the floor of the car. Blood from his body—she knew that if she didn’t stop the bleeding, he would lose too much. Bleed out and die. Tears rolled down her face, mixing with the blood and dripping onto Tim. She held him tightly and closed her eyes.
It watched her, staring with a vivid and piercing look that almost made her vomit. She felt a sensation like she had never felt before, as if the thing had suddenly become a part of her, searching the darkest corners of her mind and body. A sickening, rotting smell filled her nostrils, causing that strange muscle in her throat to quiver. The smell reminded her of time when an animal somehow got between the drywall and the outside of her house and died. The sick, rancid odor of death with a slightly sweet twist, as if someone had recently doused a dead animal with sweet bath oils, floated through the air. Her dying husband in her lap, their truck totaled, and yet she could think of nothing other than this thing that stood somewhere beyond their twisted-metal cage.
The radio burst to life, exploding with static and a jumble of songs and commentary, then grew suddenly quiet. From deep within the speakers, almost created by the magnets themselves, came a gravely, guttural voice that stung her eyes and the smell intensified.
“What do you fear?” the voice asked. Jamie listened, her entire body shaking. She spit blood and tears from her mouth and it rolled down her chin. She cried harder.
“Answer…” it said through the speakers. Static again burst, drowning out the awful potential of further conversation with this voice.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed, slamming her fist into the dash. The radio fell silent. Suddenly, something hit the side of the truck and sent a deafening, crunching sound into the tiny cab. The truck lifted off the ground and tumbled across the street. It rolled several times until it smashed another tree and stopped, resting on its roof. The metal creaked and groaned under the weight of the truck. Julie undid her seat belt and crashed to the roof of the car. Outside, shattered glass spread out over the road. She maneuvered herself next to her husband and held him close, kissing his cheek and pressing her head into his shoulder.
Glass crunched outside the truck as someone walked toward them. The speakers sparked to life once again, “I am coming. I am here.”
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© 2008, Derrick Hibbard. All Rights Reserved.
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