Updates to come, and you can catch up on my pervious posts here: Part I, Part II, Part III
***
It was late. The family of the deceased wanted us to wait to start our commute, as family members poured into town to say goodbye. We gathered in the car and started the voyage at 11 at night. The roads were empty, only semis dotting the highways. The local pueblo police informed us that we would lose signal as we got into town, and the home the decesased was located was an additional hour outside the city, increasing the travel time by two hours. We had been instructed to meet the police at the only gas station on the reservation, and to call 911 in order for him to reach us.
The ride into the reservation was relatively uneventful. We talked mostly, aimless jokes and conversations dotting around the car. I was being left alone for the first time in a while. Although I still remained cautious, by avoiding the reflected surfaces and refraining from drifting into to sleep. The road had been peaceful. Time was moving slowly, but not excruciatingly slow. It was a smooth passage. We hadn’t spoken for a while. The radio played wistfully in the background. Elijah drove at a calm steady pace. Emily played on her phone with one hand, while the other sat delicately laced through my hand. For a while I had forgotten about the cold, I forgot about It. I was just a 19-year-old, falling in love.
As we approached the town, the green clock of the Dodge Caravan read1 am. The radio started to crackle; songs were unable to play thoroughly. Every other word started to break away. The static was slowly calming down too. No more crackles, no broken words. It made an eerie silence creep through the van. Elijah adjusted the dials, turned the radio up and down. To no avail. He was growing uneasy. His left knee was bouncing up and down, creating an untamed vibration throughout the car. Emily’s hand tightened in mine.
The van came to a screech. I flung into the back of Emily’s seat, only for cold hands to grip my shoulders and slam me back into mine. My head ached with the cold and sudden impact. Elijah was shaking, staring into the rear view mirror. The full white of his eyes glared in the light, green light reflected into each.
“What the hell dude?” Emily barked. Her head had hit the dash, she was rubbing the space between her brows. She pulled down the sun blinder mirror, inspecting the damage. Her steel eyes pierced mine. We both mouthed, “You, okay?” Smiles played on both our faces; slight nods ensued.
I spoke, softly, “Elijah, you should keep driving. We can’t be stopped on the highway. We could get hit.”
He slowly accelerated. His knuckles flashed white against the steering wheel. The air was tense. No one spoke for several moments. We let the air linger. The goosebumps rose down my spine, the marks of bruises stung cold. “Don’t turn around.” Layered whispers danced in my head.
When Elijah finally spoke, we approached the gas station. “Did you guys see…that thing…. on the road?”
“You should let me drive,” Emily said, “I think you should rest your eyes.”
“I’m fine, but you’re right. I think the night, and the driving is getting me.” They swapped sides. I started to dial 911, contacting the pueblo police as instructed. My phone was not functioning. The screen was blinking on and off. Each black screen showed its bright green eyes. “Don’t turn around.” In fact, none of our phones were working. All flashing on and off, green dots displayed on the screen.
We decided to go inside the gas station. By some miracle an attendant stood slumped against the counter, despite the late hour. He was obviously fighting sleep. “Can we borrow a phone?” Elijah asked. He eyed the label on Elijah and I’s black polo uniforms. “Are you guys here for Mr. Al?”
“This is a very small town,” Elijah chuckled.
“Mr. Al was an important guy. And the police gave me the heads up to look for you, he got worried about your guys’ phones working out here. I would not normally stay up quite this late. This gas station has no reason to be open quite this early in the morning…let me call him over my radio in the back.”
As we waited for the police to arrive, we wandered the three aisles of the gas station. The normal 5-dollar bags of small Cheetos, two dollar “Dr. Salt’’ cans. Simultaneously cheap and overpriced. Except for one back corner of the store. There were meticulously placed tools, jewelry, knives, and small nick knacks. Each was beautifully carved of white bone. A sign read “Hand Carved Deer Antlers.” A long-curved blade hung on the top. It was breathtaking, I went to trace my finger across the curving blade. The cold laced around me and jerked me back.
“Don’t.” Emily braced me as I threatened to hit the floor.
“Turn.”
She softly asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah, just lightheaded.”
“Around.”
Blue and red danced on the floor. We turned to face a tall police officer, young in the face, but very old within his voice. “Follow me, it’s about a mile, all dirt roads. It should be fine. Just don’t turn around.”
Elijah and I stopped, frozen in front of the white antler trinkets. I swallowed hard. Its fingertips pressed into my back. I wondered if he could feel the cold too. If his soul was also permeated and saturated with the stale cold.
Emily drove, and the van creeped up the dirt hill. We again moved steadily. With the promised security of the police, a calmness reentered the van. Elijah still seemed on edge, but the tenseness of his shoulders lessened. His head slightly bopped against the seat; eyes gently rested.
Emily and I spoke in whispers. “I don’t think he has been sleeping. You guys work too much.” She spoke as she looked at me through the rear view.
“I don’t know if that’s what it was.”
“What do you mean?”
Her answer was interrupted by a pain laced groan. She clamped her arm across her stomach arched in pain.
“Emily?!”
She tried to speak through gritted teeth. Elijah rose in worry, “What’s going on, you look like you’re gonna to blow chunkies .”
She slammed on the brakes. The caravan reenacted the scene from earlier. Each of us launching forward. Tears were streaming down her rosy cheeks. Elijah and I spoke in unison, “What’s going on, are you okay?”
She took deep, slow, steady controlled breaths. As she was about to lurch forward she stiffened into the seat. Her back was straight as a board. I saw it in the mirror, its green eyes bearing into mine.
I mentally screamed. “Let her go. Please.”
“Don’t turn around.”
“I didn’t!”
“But you will.”
The pain left her face as fast as it had appeared. She smiled, joked, and said “Guess the sushi wanted revenge.”
It’s cold head nestled in the crook of my neck; fingers wrapped along my waist. The cold vibrated throughout me. Causing my teeth to chatter so hard that I felt as though they would crack from the force of them colliding.
The rest of the call went smoothly. But my every move resulted in the tightening of fingers around a respective body part. I knew without looking that the bruises would no longer just dance against my shoulders but be a permanent fixture across my body. I knew that it’d be a constellation of its control. Reminders that, It, would always be there. I would always hear its whispers. The layers of screams and pleads.
I would later ask Emily and Elijah what they had seen. Elijah recounted a scene similar to that of his travels to the coast. I asked what he saw on the roads. He described, “A tall figure, several feet tall. It had horns, twisting into points. But it glowed, and dripped gold. It made me feel warm, and safe. I was scared to hurt something so beautiful.”
I was taken aback at first. It was certainly my monster. The same horns, and height. But he was describing a figure of glory, one to bring comfort. Why had the monster shown him kindness, but held me in fear?
Emily recounted the same story. She stated that its warmth had wrapped itself around her stomach. That its kindness had immediately calmed her stomach. I asked her why then, had she slammed the breaks. “It had jumped in front of the road; I didn’t want to hurt it.”
I asked them both, attempting light curiously, “Did you hear it speak or scream or say anything?”
They both said the same thing.