the scrub oak. Only the most ambitious rays of light crept through the dense canopy, the darkness swelling from all sides. The sleeves of his shirt snagged on the barren branches of the brush, the needles from the long, intertwining branches ripping at the bare skin on his forearms.
The frigid night air nipped at his bare skin, his running nose stinging mightily. Slowly his flesh began to numb. His hair, dampened from the falling snow, froze atop his head, the individual strands clumping together as they crystallized. The blood in his feet throbbed, pounding painfully, with each step into the deep snow. But still, his body forced his weary legs to run, his chest burning from the lack of oxygen in the thin, crisp night air.
Bursting through the edge of the forest, he tumbled down a small hill, his body becoming weightless. He slammed down on his right shoulder, his face landing only inches from the freezing water along the icy bank of the river. The stones that littered the bank had torn through the shoulder of his jersey, his lacerated and bloody skin burning like fire, the snow that covered him from head to toe doing little to soothe the screaming wound.
Rising to his knees, he winced back the searing pain and stared down the bank of the river. There was no sign of the shadowy figure. The wall of trees on the far side of the river was unbroken by anything, save the clouds of snow that gusted past, the wind ripping the flakes along the surface of the water. The babbling of the water filled drowned out all other sound but the high-pitched scream of the wind shredding through the branches of the evergreens.
Staggering to his feet, he cupped his right shoulder with his left hand, pulling it free only long enough to inspect the blood that coated the damp surface of his palm before replacing it, cradling his open wound tightly beneath the firm pressure. His mouth hung wide, his lungs fighting through the crisp breeze to attain the oxygen that they desperately needed. His ankles rolled over the stones hidden beneath the snow as he stumbled on, heading upstream toward the mountains.
Every inch of his frozen flesh cried out for warmth, his trembling hands frozen into claws. It was all he could do to force his body to move forward, knowing that his only other option was to slink back home, not sure of the exact direction in which he had run. Contest: I have inscribed copies of both Species and The Legacy (first one in gets their choice) to give away to the first two people to email me at [email protected] and tell me what they think of The Bloodspawn so far. Really. Now back to your reading… -M
The fierce wind carried with it another sound, a vague, muffled sound that was barely strong enough to draw attention to itself. As he pressed further, straight into the torrential breeze, the sound grew louder, separating itself from the howling of the wind.
It was a voice, a human voice, riding along the flow of air from some hidden location upstream. They were pained, tortured cries, growing more intense with each passing second.
The bank of the river rose higher to his right, leaving him only a thin line of bank to tread between the wall of rock to his right and the raging waters of the half-frozen river to his left. Echoing through the channel, the cries intensified, filling his ears and the noise congealed, forming unmistakable words.
“Someone help me!” the voice cried into the night.
Scott quickened his pace to a gallop, traversing the rocky bank as quickly as he could without sending himself headfirst into the frozen waters from which he knew he might never be able to crawl free. He placed his right hand on the steep bank, the sandstone crumbling beneath his touch, sending miniature avalanches of sand cascading down about his feet. Long, rugged roots broke from the surface of the bank, jutting forth right in front of his face. He barely saw them in time to duck or swat them away from his face. The voice sounded as though it was right in front of him now.
“Help me, please!”
He was right upon it now, the wailing coming from all sides. Ground-level branches from the trees atop the bank above draped down, the long, needled branches covering the surface of the bank, only the bottom portion visible above the snow-drifted ground. The muffled voice called to him from some hidden location. His scraped and frozen hands ripped back the branches, the voice sounding clear as day. Holding back the branches with his elbows, he thrust his face close to the bank, exposing a rusted grate built straight into the bank of the river.
The voice funneled through from the cavernous tunnel beyond, the darkness entombed within so thick that it appeared impenetrable. Beneath the wailing voice, he could hear the padding of footsteps: uneven as they splashed through the ice-covered drainage that slid down the middle of the tunnel into the river.
“Is someone there?” Scott called into the tunnel, his fists wrapping tightly around the grate; his flesh turning a faded color of rust as it flaked off in his grasp.
“Oh, Jesus!” the voice called. “Please, help me!”
Scott could see the faint outline of a darkened form limping toward him, barely discernible from the darkness that surrounded it.
Splish, splash. Splish, splash.
The man within stumbled on, falling to his knees several times before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet, a little slower each time.
“What’s happening?” Scott shouted, yanking on the grate, trying to pry it from where it had been drilled into the sandstone. The grate rocked slightly, lines of sand tumbling down the slope from the secure bolts.
“Get me out of here!” the voice shouted, the figure nearly to the grate.
Scott scanned the ground, finally grabbing a large rock from the bank and raising it into the air.
A hand burst through a hole in the grate, lines of blood streaming over the knuckles as it grabbed for him.
“Stand back!” Scott yelled, slamming the rock down on the top bolt over and over, his fingernails bending back.
“He’s in here!” the voice screamed, quivering. “You have to hurry!”
The sound of the rock landing atop the steel bolt echoed through the darkness of the tunnel as he slammed down the stone over and over. There was a loud ping when the bolt snapped, the gate groaning as it settled backwards into the tunnel, it’s rusted metal edge dragging across the sandstone.
Another hand appeared from the grate, grabbing him by the shirt and tugging him up against the grate. He stared through, into the darkness, the face of the man trapped within only inches from his own. In the dim light, he could only partially make out the features on the man’s face, but that was more than enough for Scott.
“Brian?” he stuttered.
“You’ve got to get me out of here!” he said, releasing Scott’s shirt and turning to stare back into the tunnel.
Scott fell to his knees, slamming the rock atop the bolt that secured the bottom portion of the grate.
“Stay back!” Brian shouted, pressing his back up against the grate. Scott was helpless but to watch. “I said stay back!”
The bolt was bent, the rusted threads giving slightly with each drop of the rock. Just a few more times and it would break.
“Our Father who art in heaven,” the voice cried as the body slumped to the ground, the scrambling legs trying to propel the body backward through the gate. “Hallowed be Thy name…”
The voice trailed off into a gurgle. A wave of warm fluid splashed through the grate, landing on Scott’s back, soaking into his hair as he slammed the rock down one final time, snapping off the head of the bolt. He whirled, facing the grate before once again wrapping his fists around the cold steel. The ground all around him was stained red, the warm fluid trickling down the back of his neck and along the bare flesh that covered his spine.
A scraping sound echoed through the tunnel as the body was dragged away from the grate, the back of the head bouncing off the rocky surface before slipping into the shallow stream that ran down the center of the floor.
“Brian!” Scott shouted, yanking on the grate.
It gave only slightly with each jerk, the bank crumbling to dust around it before he was finally able to pull it free. He nearly fell onto his back beneath the weight of the grate, but was able to push it to the side at the last minute, stumbling to the right and nearly careening into the river.
Regaining his balance, he ducked into the passage, the frigid water immediately covering his slippers and biting into his bare flesh beneath. There was absolutely no visibility. The darkness took on a life of its own, swarming around him. He ran, both hands stretched straight out in front of him so as not to run headfirst into a wall. His frozen toes snagged on something, sending him sprawling forward onto the floor, his hands splashing into the three inches of water after cracking through the thin layer of ice that covered it.
