For a moment, pity won the war for emotional control over Mike’s face. His eyes softened and his lower lip became wrinkled and trembled as he looked down at his friend. He reached out and touched the side of Xander’s head, running his nails over his scalp gently. “I know. I don’t want to fight you, either,” he nodded. His fist closed around Xander’s hair, holding his head steady as his other hand came up between them one final time, connecting to the side of Xander’s face and shattering it from ear the ear. “But like I said, I’ve gotta talk to someone.”
When Xander opened his eyes again they were a deep aquatic blue, the pupils long since faded away as the edges of them turned upwards like a villain’s mustache in a thirties movie. His mouth opened wide to reveal that the missing teeth had been replaced with longer, sharper ones that came down from his gums as though they were on lifts, sliding out and locking into place naturally. From somewhere deep inside his throat, there was a dull hiss like he’d swallowed a python and when Mike looked hard enough, he swore he could see bones resetting and righting themselves in the back of his friend’s mouth.
Slowly, Mike let go of the back of Xander’s head and got off of him, watching as the oily crimson that covered his face slowly got darker and darker. It was like watching two similar shades of paint mix together in an automatic stirrer, the blackness swirling around on the surface until it was everywhere, matting down his hair until it looked like he was bald. It travelled down his neck and over his body, soaking into his clothes layer by layer until it wasn’t visible anymore. It was just blackness held so tightly to his skin that it might as well have been skin.
It got up, its neck hunched as it lowered its steely, slanted eyes at Mike. Its hands hung loosely at its sides, like a cowboy itching to drawn his gun. Slowly and discreetly, a black-tinted claw slid out from each fingertip as the last of its red blood fell from the corner of its lip.“Black Womb lives,” it barked, its voice low and menacing as though it had just uttered some horrible curse at Mike.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” Mike said, his voice quavering only slightly as he forced a smile and licked his lips.
The Womb lunged forward, slamming both its palms into Mike’s shoulders.
He nearly bit down on his own tongue as his head slammed against the ground before he even realized he was falling, his jaw snapping shut upon impact. The Womb sat on his chest, its feet rested on either side of his head. Long talons had unsheathed themselves from his toes as well, tapping contemplatively on the gravel next to his ear. He could feel them brushing alongside the hair of his neck. “You don’t scare me,” he said, curling his lip in disgust.
The Womb bent down slowly until the sides of its head were roughly level with its ankles, although Mike knew full well Xander couldn’t even touch his toes. The thing was nose-to-nose with him now, the stench of old vomit that came on its blood overpowering Mike. It gawked at him with eyes twice the size they should have been, small scraps of leftover flesh floating in their greenish pools. It blinked slowly, then tilted its head to one side. It remained that way for a full ten seconds before blinking again, then tilting in the other direction.
“What’s so confusing?” Mike said bitterly, his voice almost a whisper. “You not used to people fighting back?”
Its long tongue came out of its mouth and licked its lips, showing off long duel rows of jagged, yellowed teeth at the same time. It clacked its tongue against them just as Xander did when he thought, making a loud hollow sound that echoed off its gaping mouth. Its eyes glowed, light flickering across them from the sun. It closed its mouth again and made a sound that was almost purring as it continued to stare at Mike.
“What do you want from us? Huh?” Mike yelled, squirming under the creature’s weight. “Come on! You come and you come every chance you get, well I’m right here!” he bellowed, so loud that his voice didn’t even sound human. Each syllable was a roar, cracking and rising again before the next. Hot tears streamed down his livid face as he finally got his arms free and shoved the Womb off him.
It backed up a pace, staying squat near the ground.
Fuelled by rage and without any conscious thought, Mike struggled to his feet and then let loose one punch that amassed all the anger and hate that he had let well up inside him for weeks, as though his fist had been a cannon and he had fired his heart upon it.
The Womb’s head jolted sideways, the black flesh that clung so tediously to it coming loose for a split second. It turned back toward him quickly, not moving its hands or position at all. Its eyes turned up in their sockets in the closest thing to confusion that its blank tableau of a face could accomplish. It looked shocked, then
