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The Acolyte
Copyright 2007 by Mary Harris [aka redplanetes]

Chapter 8

Anna reached out and fiddled with the volume, then sat back and snuggled further under her boyfriend's arm. Chris wasn't overly bright, but he was sweet. When she'd suggested they go out for the evening, he had cheerfully picked her up and driven them into the fresh-smelling country.

"Where are we going, then?" she'd asked after a while.

"Out. Just ...out." He gestured along the dark road. "...Is that ok?"

He always seemed a little timid, nervous that she would disapprove of his simple inspirations. She hadn't told him what a relief they were. Chris didn't play games with her; he was as deep and conniving as a glass of water.

After a couple of hours, though, she began to have some doubts. It was so dark out here, no lights promising friendly little towns or farmsteads. Shadowy clumps of trees spilled towards them like black waves crashing against a crumbling shore. The thought of what hid in that darkness gave her the creeps.

"Do you know where we are?"

Chris hesitated before answering. "...Um."

She struggled to repress the sigh that welled up. Getting lost in the country was not part of a romantic evening. Maybe for high school kids, but she was too old for this.

"Don't worry, hon, I'll just turn around and go back the way we came." The confindence in his voice was not entirely unfounded; Anna had noticed he had a nearly photographic memory. Like an idiot savant, she thought, then cringed at her own meanness. She knew he could at least get them back to familiar roads, and laid her head on his shoulder.

My knight in shining armor: gallant, guileless, and good-looking. Those were things she liked about him - he didn't know how easy he was on the eyes, and had manners. He treated her like a queen, and she felt that was appropriate. It was about time she was the queen.

"...No way!...," broke into her sleepy reverie. Her head jerked up, eyes struggling to focus. A large orange and white striped sign sat askew across the two-lane highway.

ROAD CLOSED - DETOUR

An arrow pointed to a side road. It was a narrow strip of unlit pavement, identical to the one they were on. "But... this was the road we came on..." Chris' voice was confused, plaintive.

The car idled, facing the sign uncertainly. Anna could practically hear his uncomplicated mind struggling to deal with this situation.

"There was probably a wreck or something, honey, and they had to divert traffic." She tried to believe in the words, tried to ignore the little knot of unease forming in her stomach. "It's ok, just follow the detour."

"Yeah... Yeah, ok." He let off the brake, rolled forward, turned onto the intersecting road.

After ten minutes on the dark, unmarked road, another orange detour sign appeared. A swell of relief rose up in Anna's chest; it was at least guidance - someone somewhere would tell them where to go, would lead them safely back to civilization.

As they turned down the road indicated though, she frowned. It was taking them entirely the wrong way, further out into the damn country.

The road began to twist and turn, confusing all sense of direction. Old overgrown oaks crowded the asphalt, daring the little car to invade their dark-rooted stronghold. All of a sudden the pavement ended, and they were bouncing and crunching on a gravelly dirt lane. Anna's unease became sharp and tangible, hairs crawled on the back of her neck. This isn't right.

Without warning the car dove into a deep rut, sliced across the road by spring runoff. Anna cried out as she was flung against her seatbelt, her hands went out instinctively to brace herself. The car abruptly stopped, tilted downwards. Anna's heart pounded insistently. It must not be too bad - the airbags didn't go off. Then the irritating truth hit her - they were stuck, she didn't even need to ask. Chris was groaning quietly and shifting back and forth from drive to reverse, trying to budge the vehicle.

It was hopeless. The car must've bottomed out. They wouldn't even be able to push the car out of the deep rut. She dug around in her purse, found her cell phone. 'NO SERVICE' blinked unemotionally on the tiny screen. Perfect. And we're in the middle of nowhere, Anna thought with an angry hissing sigh.

"...sorry," Chris mumbled.

"Someone will come along eventually - this is the detour. I just hope they have a tow truck." She bit off the last words, unable to hold in her impatience with their bad luck. It wasn't his fault, but she was realizing just how much she disliked the country. You couldn't do anything, get anything, you couldn't even walk anywhere; it was just too big, too... hostile.

The cooling engine gave off soft ticking noises for a few minutes, and then slowly died away, leaving only the sinister rustling of the dense trees over the lane. So quiet, she thought.

So dark.

So quiet.

...and so far from home.

Suddenly nervous, Anna reached for the radio. As her fingers touched it, a loud rapping against the driver's side window made them both jump. A woman was standing outside, stooping slightly to peer in.

"Oh thank God," Anna grumbled, relieved help had arrived so quickly. She turned the dome light on while Chris rolled down the window.

The woman studied them for a moment, seeming perfectly at ease with the country darkness. She was in her forties or fifties, Anna guessed, and looked like one of those independent farm women who grew vigorous and sturdy from their years of hard work. She was of medium build, had a very feminine figure under her work shirt and dusty pants. Her grey-streaked hair - once dark - was tied back in a loose braid; an easy smile and relaxed posture spoke of complete confidence in her abilities. The woman's sweet, girlish face reassured Anna.

"You folks got stuck, huh? I heard it from my porch. Just live a little ways off." She gestured noncommitally into the trees.

"Ma'am, please tell me you have a phone," Anna said past Chris, trying to sound less desperate than she felt. She just wanted to go home.

"Sure I do." The woman smiled more widely, exposing small white teeth. Little crow's-feet at her eyes wrinkled up cheerfully. "Name's Becky. Becky Bates."

Anna chuckled nervously and got out her side, purse in hand. "You don't have a son named Norman, do you, Miz Bates?" Becky just barked out a soft laugh, began walking towards the dark trees.

"It's this way..." she called over her shoulder.

Anna frowned. Becky might be able to walk through the woods in the pitch dark, but it made Anna more than just a little uneasy. Chris was wavering between following the woman and staying by Anna's side. "Coming hon?"

She remembered the flashlight he kept under the seat. "Yeah, hang on a sec." In a moment she had the light, and felt safer, armed against the night. Becky was waiting for them at the edge of the woods. "Just follow me," she said, turned and strode into the trees.

As the couple hurried to keep up, Anna noticed that the path they were on was barely a trail, maybe only a deer track. It twisted and meandered aimlessly. The circle of light bounced against jagged rotting stumps, reaching branches, endless undergrowth. Becky was no longer in sight, but they could hear her movements ahead of them, and occasionally she called out, "Come on now," or "...just a bit farther." Anna trotted faster, keeping in front to illuminate the path, not wanting to lose their guide.

Maybe she'll have a pot of coffee on, a nice porch swing. This could turn out to be less of a disaster, after all.

After a few minutes, Anna realized she was hearing only her own footsteps. She paused, certain she would hear Chris' footfalls, his breathing close behind. Only the hissing of the leaves and clicking of the branches far overhead - nothing more. Even the sounds of Becky's passage were gone. Anna's heart froze. A soft wail, like a lover's sigh, fled from her throat. Any moment now, I will hear them, I'll be fine.

Please.

"Hey!..." She held her breath, ears pleading for a response. The dark pressed against her tiny beam of light in contempt of the feeble effort. Anna's heart began to pound, and she turned slowly, as though shining the light in other directions would illuminate the sounds she ached to hear.

An agonized masculine wail threaded through the trees, striking her like a sledgehammer. The worst had suddenly become unimaginably real. She stumbled in the direction of the scream, feet pounding faster than she knew they could move. "Chris! Chris!" Maybe he just ran into a big spiderweb, or got sprayed by a skunk or something. Maybe... though she knew with arctic certainty that it was nothing they'd be laughing about later.

A pale abberation flashed in the jostling beam of her flashlight. A shoe. Chris' shoe, laying by the side of the path.

She fumbled on, her breaths coming in panicky hitches. A long torn rag, horribly recognizeable as part of his shirt. The red stain along one side burned in her eyes as Anna sped past it. "C - Chuh - Chris...," she was almost hyperventilating now. Leafy branches slapped her face, teasing her, mocking her distress.

She rounded a slight curve, rushed towards the crumpled heap laying in the path ahead. Someone was already there, bent over his still form. A girl, kneeling beside him, seeming to check his injuries. Time thickened like molasses as Anna stumbled closer. She saw the girl in sharp detail, as though all the surrounding woods were merely a two-dimesional tapestry, and noted all the details in a detached alcove of her awareness.

The girl was a lanky teenager, probably would be tall if she stood. Mousy-brown hair fell over her face, partially obscuring delicate, almost impish features. A generous bosom gleamed in the light; the girl's shirt was loosely fastened. A disconnected pang of jealousy darted through Anna's mind at the sight of those fresh young breasts hanging over the still shape of her boyfriend.

All this was noted in the short seconds of headlong motion. The girl raised her head, looked into the light. At first, Anna saw a look of anguish, mirroring her own. The girl's large, dark, wide-set eyes were bright and shining, surely with tears. Then, incomprehensibly, Anna watched a smile creeping snail-like over the girl's face; the look was not anguish but something vile, something hungry and triumphant.

The girl turned slightly, and Anna saw the searing color of fresh blood, too bright, and the long curved knife drenched in that screaming red.

A clarity of terror clenched Anna's mind. Run, it demanded. Now.

Run, or die.

She felt her legs flailing, turning away, just away, anywhere but here. The path was lost instantly, she didn't care. The beam of light bounced insanely against looming foliage. Her purse was knocked from her grip by an unyielding branch, and tumbled away as she ran on gasping and sobbing into the malevolent woods. Snapping twigs and light footfalls sounded from close behind her, drawing a thin scream from her lips. Death followed, and no matter how her feet rushed, drew closer.

Anna crashed into a solid object; the force of her momentum crumpled her against it before she rebounded and fell to the ground in a breathless heap. A wild idea raced through her frantic mind, that a tree had stepped into her path.

The flashlight was still clenched in her grasp, and she raised it shakily to see what she had hit.

Tears sprang to her eyes as the light fell on a pair of large muddy boots planted firmly in the earth; above them was a ragged coat. Against her will, the beam of light moved upward. At the top of the dark, stained coat, a nightmare leered down at her. She couldn't move, could only stare open-mouthed.

It was hideous.

All wrinkles in gruesome dark skin, black lips framing an absurdity of fangs, eyes glaring evilly at her, into her. The cruelty in its face was matched only by the awful hunger oozing from its gaping mouth. Anna had only a moment to think, ...it's not fair, monsters aren't supposed to be real!... before it lunged towards her.

Her lungs vomited a shriek as she dropped the flashlight, scrabbled back and to her feet. As she stumbled backwards, she hit another obstacle, softer, but just as unyielding. Hands like a hawk's gripped her around the arms, the neck, holding her prisoner. Anna thrashed feebly, and a familiar voice crooned into her ear. "Shhh. It's over now."

The woman. Becky. She held Anna firmly; the dark nightmare just stared at them.

Anna felt Becky smile against her ear, then a bolt of agony, tearing flesh and crunching bone, slammed into her back. A wetly shining spike protruded from her chest.The last thing she felt was the hot tide running down over her stomach.

* * * * *

Helen held the young woman until she stopped struggling, became limp and heavy. The creature approached, plunged a dark hand into the wound, pulled the heart free. The dead woman sank down into a puddle, finally flopping face-first over her own knees. Helen watched the body curiously for a moment to see if it would topple over, then she realized the monster was holding something out to her. The heart it had just seized, steaming invisibly in the creature's bloody grasp. The monster was actually offering it to her.

She looked up at it in surprise. What is this? A valentine...? "Thanks but..., you go ahead." The grey creature thrust the dripping handful closer to her mouth, insistent. Helen shook her head. "Really, I don't think I have the right kind of teeth to eat that." She began to turn away, checking for dropped evidence to pick up. The flashlight, and she had a purse-

Like a gust of wind the monster stepped in front of her, grabbed a handful of shirt to hold her in place. Helen looked up, startled, and it let go, held her with its eyes as it pinched a morsel off the heart between its thumb and forefinger, long sharp nail tearing a strip of tough muscle loose. It then offered her the red tidbit, held it to her mouth. She looked at the meat, looked at the monster, parted her lips and let the creature push it in her mouth. The heart was neither tender nor savory, but her companion seemed eager that she should eat more. Probably why he swallows them whole, they're impossible to chew.

Feeling like a grown wolf pup being fed by an overzealous parent, Helen suspected this was more than it appeared on the surface - a hunter's ritual.The monster watched her, inched closer to inspect her, for what?

She was fed the entire heart, bit by bit. Helen would never have believed she could eat the whole thing, but her creature had such a sense of urgency that she consume it all. After she had swallowed the last bite, it just continued staring at her, head tilting slowly.

What the hell is it looking for?

After a minute, it blinked a few times, the only sign of resignation she could tell. The monster resumed its normal attitude of voracity and crouched down, cutting into the body.

That was extremely odd, Helen mused. What just happened?

A rough hand plunged into a vast incision, reemerged with a long, pale lung. The organ tore in half and was stuffed into jagged jaws, then the hand returned to the oozing wound for more.

I can almost always tell what it's thinking, but... this.

Helen shrugged, walked stiffly over to pick up the woman's flashlight, bent carefully to retrieve it and switch it off. Running through the dark woods had been fun, but had aggravated her creaky joints a little. Small stuff, I can worry about it later. All is well, my wonderful monster is here, and Mena is not a jar of nitroglycerine waiting to drop.

* * * * *

It'd been almost too easy to lure the unsuspecting young couple into the woods; they never imagined until too late they'd been led there, caught in a neat trap. The monster had homed in on the passing car, had followed briefly but not close enough to arouse suspicion. After bringing Helen and Mena to an isolated dirt lane, it had disappeared into the night with a leathery rustle.

A moonlit examination of the location revealed the eroded gouge across the road, and Helen began to understand the plan. They discussed very little; Mena also seemed to draw the implications of the car-stopping ditch in a remote road. We all think the same way, Helen thought with a small smile. As Mena strolled into the woods, her sonorous voice called back, "I'll be waiting..."

Only later did she find out it had played a game of misdirection using borrowed road construction signs. The monster deftly steered the naive couple onto the remote road, stranding its meal. Helen picked up her role with an enthusiasm she could barely mask.

She even teased them with a ludicrous name, giving a title to her part in the burlesque: Baits.

She had told them right to their faces what she was doing to them, and it had given her a satisfying rush. Helen could practically see the woman's thoughts running across her apprehensive features; Here is a straightforward hick - honest, wholesome, and helpful. She may be backwards, but at least she won't cheat us.

It had been almost a shame - the woman was strong, brave despite her fatal misconceptions. A shame, yet a thrill.

Her man was so gentle, so easily led astray. All Helen had to do was step quietly aside, remain still in the shadows while the man blundered on, mistaking Mena's decoy sounds on a side path for his guide. Like the old game of Exquisite Corpse, each of them picked up where the previous left off, combining their efforts in unique, individual chapters. It was a game of inspiration, improvisation, metamorphosis.

Helen had crept silently behind, curious to see what her volatile niece would do.

Mena had toyed with the guileless young man only briefly, not out of impatience, Helen concluded, but a spartan prudence. The girl had placed herself in the man's path, allowed him to realize he hadn't crashed into his girlfriend but a stranger. As his eyes had widened in the moonlight, Mena lashed out mercilessly. The man flailed, scrambled to get away, didn't make it far. Helen had a moment to marvel at the girl's ruthlessness, her perfect timing, then the doomed woman had arrived and shone her light on the scene.

In that light, Mena emerged fulfilled. Not a trace of the afternoon's uncertainty, a feral glow lit up dark eyes that wore the look Helen had seen once before. The look of a hawk sizing up a rabbit. What Helen had mistaken for instability was something entirely different, it was Mena as her true self, as she always was underneath the clutter.

Even more, an enlightenment shone from those eyes; the understanding of her nature as one beyond naming. The creature had no need of a name or title - neither did she.

Mena had blossomed.

The monster had seen this from the beginning, had been teasing Helen that she was blind to the obvious.

Helen had smiled, sighed with pride, even as she darted after the terrified woman.

* * * * *

A knife-like twinge shot through her hip again, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Helen turned; the woman's corpse, half-eaten, was unattended.

Something's wrong. Not like him to leave a meal...

She stepped towards the body, felt the movement of air behind her a split-second before the large hand closed on her throat, under her chin. The monster wasn't squeezing, just holding her to itself, but her bark of alarm was smothered in the severe grip. Jaws brushed the back of her neck as they opened wide, teeth snagged on her skin.

She held as still as possible. Her feet were barely touching the ground, and she could breathe only with effort. The creature's awful maw was ready to bite through her spinal cord, but did nothing more, just clutched her and breathed - motionless, waiting.

Helen forced a voice into her throat. "What are you-"

A noise silenced her; a growl so deep it was more a vibration than a sound. A dire warning.

She calmed herself, though her heart was racing. Helen hoped it would be quick. She figured the monster might be incapable of either speech or comprehension of speech right at the moment, maybe had forgotten who she was.

The creature's unmoving grip overwhelmed her. The solid, tense fingers around her neck; the sinewy muscles of the arm pressed against her; the pillar of obdurate fate at her back - the blood churned in her veins, responding, resonating. She leaned into its imposing strength, needing to absorb it. Spiky teeth grazed at tender flesh.

A tremor passed through the monster's jaws, pricking her skin. A hair-raising growl that rose to a needy whine rolled from the creature's throat, then it pressed a languorous tongue to the nape of her neck, licking slowly across the skin. Helen's mouth opened, her eyes closed. What a way to go... if that's what it's doing. It acts like it can't make up its mind. I don't even care, she thought, surprised at herself.

The hand abruptly released her throat and lowered, grabbing a handful of her shirt and flinging her down over the torn body. She landed heavily, face-down across the woman's gaping stomach, gasped for air as she looked over her shoulder at the creature. It was pacing back and forth, staring at her in the low moonlight, opening and clenching an ominous hand. It seemed to be confused rather than angry.

Helen kept still when the monster took a menacing step towards her. It's trying to make me run... but why? It knowsI won't.

Why don't we understand each other any more?

Still struggling to catch her breath, the creature pounced and crawled onto her; its heavy body hovered over her like a lion over a coveted kill. Face almost pressed into the earth by the nervous weight, Helen bit back a flash of anger - it was swirling with a potent excitement. Her pants were clasped in a strangely careful grip as she began to speak.

"Let me u-guhhhn...!" Her words and thoughts were demolished as in a single frenzied motion, the creature bared her and swooped down to plunge its face between her legs.

It began devouring her with its tongue desperately, as though its life depended on it. Helen couldn't have gotten up now if she'd wanted to; all the strength had run from her muscles, and she fumbled blindly at the corpse under her, grabbing a slick exposed bone to hang on for dear life.

The monster knew all the sweet spots, and played them mercilessly. She panted into the fresh, blood-soaked dirt, moaned as the excruciating feast sent heat rolling through her prone body. A stony hand on each hip held her in the uncomfortable and undignified pose, and the creature seemed to pay no attention to her other than the one blessed, besieged cleft. She'd have been annoyed if she wasn't writhing in delight.

The creature's head turned slightly and it bit down on the inside of her thigh, just enough to pierce the skin. Just as an angry scream began to flee her throat, its tongue's assault continued, turning the sound into a wailing caterwaul. A pleased growl rumbled from the monster's dark mouth, sending fresh shocks through her tingling, liquefying flesh. It was torture, a torture of pleasure, an unrelenting flogging.

Storms of electricity built in her belly, grew to take hold of her body, squeezed the breath from her lungs. The creature twisted its grip on her thigh, sending a blinding splinter of pain through her sore hip; a sweet spasm swept up, struck a bolt of violence into her brain as it shook her body. Saliva dripped unheeded from her mouth as her body quaked, powerless and driven, a team of maddened horses running wild.

The monster reined her in, tantalizingly slow. The exquisite, crushing convulsions that had ruled her body eased away, and she turned her head weakly, saw a forest of pearly ribs beside her, shining in the dappled starlight.

Once again the creature crawled up over her, hovered against her, but protectively, possessively this time. A peculiar strength returned to Helen from within; despite her submissive posture and physical weariness, this savage creature was under her sway. She could feel its complete obsession, its desire, its desperate need, like the heady perfume of some deadly, night-blooming flower.

The bulge of the monster's erection strained through its pants, softly brushing her bare ass. She pressed back against it reflexively, felt her own pulse still throbbing in her groin. The monster took two deep breaths, then reached down a hand to fumble with its ragged trousers. It managed to open them; from the audible rip, Helen knew not very neatly; she couldn't repress a smirk. It lowered itself onto her, its rigid cock seeking out her moist, swollen nest. Helen sighed as it slid inside her, the fullness she craved sank deeply, held still before withdrawing and plunging again with ardent intensity.

The creature lowered its head beside hers. She could see its nostrils flaring, jaws clenching, teeth bared as it plundered her. Its outstretched hand clutched at the earth, gradually tearing up a handful of soil and popping roots. Every inch of Helen's flesh was keenly sensitive. She felt its rough skin and coarse hair, painfully taut muscles, every movement of the cock inside her as it probed her deep within, caressed its way almost free, then thrust back into her heat, the monster's weight pounding against her buttocks.

Suddenly the monster's jaws snapped twice; it gave a loud disconcerting growl, twisted its body to tear a chunk of flesh from the corpse. Drops of warm blood flew in an arc; the mouthful was swallowed in a heartbeat.

The fresh, bloody smell shoved Helen over the edge; her overstimulated senses collapsed in a riot of pleasure. She cried out, open-mouthed, contorting underneath the creature's spasmodic penetration. It seized her in both arms around her chest, crushing her against its body, lifted her upright with it. The shriek that erupted from its mouth nearly made her heart stop. The creature growled, hissed, spitting and gnashing, plunged hard one final time, trembling like an oak in a storm.

It seemed to become aware of how tightly it was holding Helen, loosened its arms enough to let her breathe freely. She could do no more than lean into its chest; her body was twitching from exertion.

Minutes passed before the creature surprised her by speaking. "Was hungry..." its rumbling voice grated into her ear, as though thinking aloud.

"You need to eat," Helen answered, voice hoarse.

A wicked, wheezy chuckle bubbled up from the creature's chest; its relaxing organ, still buried within her, throbbed; Helen's lower muscles squeezed in response. She jabbed an elbow playfully into it ribs. "You need to eat FOOD, smartass."

Helen's mind slowly resolved into some semblance of order. I wonder if that was what happened. It was hungry, for food, for sex, confused between the two, and I could only read the confusion.

The dark monster's only reply was a soft, musing growl.

End of Chapter 8


The Acolyte and illustrations Copyright 2007 by Mary Harris [aka redplanetes]
~plagarists will be flayed alive~


redplanet@trinidadusa.net



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