Back of the Envelope

Old Post: The first chapter in this series is here, while the most recent chapter is here.

Well, it's two weeks late, but here it is, the next chapter of Eyes in the Shadow. I originally had a draft of this done two weeks ago, but when I was doing the revision, I decided that I didn't like how it went. There was one completely extraneous thing that I liked, but served no real purpose in the story. It just acted as a useless and unlikely coincidence that would almost certainly be a red herring. So I decided to save it for later... What?

Anyway, I like how it reads now much better than how it did.

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Chapter 8
An Ill-timed Walk


Ryan opened one eye. It was the change in the car's movement which had first disturbed his rest, then the sudden brightness had woken him fully. They were parked at an Exxon station, stopped right in front of the convenience store. Between the light from the store window and the fluorescents illuminating the area under the gas pump's canopy, it was nearly as bright as day. Ryan opened and shut his eyes a few times trying to get them to adjust to the light. It was giving him a headache.

"Why..." He paused and cleared his throat. His voice was always hoarse when he first woke up. I couldn't hear what I said. "Why are we stopping? We're not out of gas, are we?"

"Nah," said Emily. "I just really needed to go. Besides, it's about time one of you guys took over driving."

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she got out the door. The light gave her blond hair a golden halo. Ryan looked back at Dominic, who was still slumped back in his seat, hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. With his sunglasses still on, it was hard to tell whether he was awake or not. He considered checking, then decided that there wasn't much reason to, so he got out of the car as well, absently scratching at the cut on his arm as he did so. The damn thing was annoying the Hell out of him. It didn't itch the way a cut should; instead it tingled, which was even more annoying. He hoped it wasn't infected.

Ryan's legs felt weak still, but as he had spent most of the day sitting down, that wasn't unexpected. He saw Emily disappear around the corner of the store, and after a moment he followed. It turned out that she knew where she was going, as the doors to both restrooms were on the side of the building. There were no windows on this side, and the wall blocked out most of the light streaming from the canopy, so aside from the flickering low-wattage bulb hanging between the two restroom doors, this side of the building was pretty dark. Emily entered the closest door, and after checking for unwelcome shapes in the shadows, he went to the second one. The Men's room was a cut above most gas station restrooms, meaning that it might be clean enough to serve a greasy diner. Still, it was brightly lit, and a quick glance in the mirror didn't show him anything he needed to worry about. Ugh, I'm getting so tired of looking for someone in the mirror every time I enter a room. Does it even help? Not every room even had a mirror, and no mirror showed him everything, but he was not going to start carrying a hand mirror around to scan every corner. I'd probably get arrested for doing that in a restroom. After doing his business, Ryan washed his hands and then pushed up the sleeve of his sweater to get a better look at the cut on his right arm.

It was across the inside of his right forearm, crossing his veins in a straight line. In fact, if it were a little bit closer to the wrist, it'd be like the scar left by a razor blade in an attempted suicide. The creepy thought gave him goosebumps. The scratch didn't look infected, at least not how he thought an infected cut should look: red and swollen and hot to the touch. Instead it looked... dead. The skin around the cut was pale and cool, even clammy. It felt stretched thin, taut, and it seemed to be actually pulling the wound open, exposing the pink muscle beneath. It still oozed a bit of blood. He pulled the sleeve back down.

What if it poisoned me? Ryan shoved the panicked thought back. "It" hadn't been there. He had cut his forearm on something, a nail protruding from the wall perhaps, and then dreamt about the shadow creature in his half-dozing state. He refused to believe that the shadow-thing was real. He could deal with the psychotic mutant demon if he had to—it was solid, a physical entity of a certain size and mass, even if some of its attributes were beyond his ability to explain. He would not allow himself to be spooked by ghosts which came out of mirrors.

Ryan almost looked at the cut again, then stopped himself. Looking at it wouldn't do him any good. He needed to go to a hospital and have them check it out. It could be tetanus. That's not what tetanus looks like! the panicky part of his brain argued. How do I know what tetanus looks like? He needed to see a doctor about it, but now wasn't a good time. After we get to Emily's house, I'll ask where I can find one.

The door opened, and in the mirror Ryan saw Dominic enter the room, still wearing his sunglasses. "Isn't it a little dark for those things?" he asked.

Dominic shrugged. "It's either dark and clear or bright and blurry. Anyway, one of us should take over driving. Do you want to, or should I?"

"Are you kidding? You just said you couldn't see anything."

Dominic snorted a half-laugh. "I did, didn't I? Well, I could probably manage, but maybe you should be the one driving."

"Yeah, I think that'd be best. I'll see you at the car."

Ryan pushed the door open and stepped out into the night. Even in the relative darkness on this side of the convenience store, glimmers from the front hurt his eyes. He rubbed his eyes, then his forehead. It didn't hurt much, but his head was definitely complaining. I hate it when I wake up from a nap with a headache. He looked in the opposite direction, where some trees stood behind the gas station's lot. I shouldn't... but I just want to walk around a bit before I have to take over driving. Once around the building can't hurt.

Ryan walked past the corner, his left hand trailing on the brick wall. You know, if this were a horror movie, going off on my own would have to be the most stupid thing ever. Don't you yell at the idiots who do that? He spun as he heard a crackling in the leaves, but he saw nothing but shadows and moonlight. Most of the noise he heard came from the other side of the building, where all the people and cars were—maybe it had come from there and he'd just imagined it came from the woods. It wasn't really a woods at all, just some sparse trees going back a few hundred feet and what looked like some houses beyond. There wasn't much underbrush either. Okay, Red-eyes won't attack me. He's not even after me, not really. It's Emily or Dominic he wants... and maybe I shouldn't have left them alone. He shook his head in a vain attempt to shake off the worried panic. I wasn't always this paranoid, was I? They haven't been alone for more than a minute or two yet. I can't just follow them around everywhere. He had always worried about things, but he had never been this bad. Ryan just wanted this to be over. The tension was getting to him.

The air was cool, but not really cold, and despite being right behind a gas station, it smelled fresh. That must be because the wind was coming from the other direction, carrying the scent of damp leaves rather than gasoline and car exhaust. It had rained here too, and water still dripped from the leaves, but only a drop or two touched him. The cold water felt nearly as good as the cool wind on his flushed skin. The car had been stuffy; between the three people and the heat blowing from the vents, it had been hot and humid, making him feverish. Right now, I'd rather walk than drive. Too bad South Carolina is just too damn big. One reason he liked Boston was that he could walk pretty much anywhere, and he much preferred to walk rather than drive. There weren't a lot of trees in Boston though, and it was rare for him to walk on dirt rather than pavement, so the feel of leaves beneath his feet was odd but pleasant.

Ryan's fingers brushed against the brick wall, then lightly touched a blank metal door, the only one on this side of the building. He didn't know why anyone would use it, as there was nothing back here, not even discarded rubbish. He looked to the woods, where he could hear water dripping from the trees, and noticed something. From where he stood, it looked like it might just be a shadowy patch on the ground, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't. Digging into his pocket, he drew out his key chain. Aside from the mass of keys, most of them to the offices and labs he needed access to for work, Ryan kept two other items hooked on his keychain: a pocket knife and a flashlight. They were, in his opinion, the two things absolutely essential for a man to have with him at all times. Unfortunately, he'd had to give up the knife when he got on the airplane. He still considered that sort of paranoia ridiculous. However, he still had his tiny LED flashlight, and he clicked it on and played its surprisingly bright light over the shadow. The shadow didn't dissolve into damp leaves and roots; his light didn't seem to penetrate its depths. Ryan left the wall to approach, his curiosity getting the better of his caution. As he got closer, he could tell why the shadow had seemed so deep: it was deep. It was the product of a hole in the ground, a round pit lined with grey bricks and flush with the ground. He couldn't tell how deep it was, as his little light couldn't find the bottom from here. It had to be deeper than he was tall. He moved closer, to try to get a better angle, but stopped when he was still a few feet from it. It was about ten feet around, and it had to be deeper. What the Hell is that? Maybe an old well? Why would anyone just leave a big hole in the ground out here? Shouldn't it be covered up or marked off or something? Ryan was just glad he hadn't stumbled into it.

Still staring at the hole, he felt a sudden chill at his back. He turned, the panic rushing through him again, but still managing to step away from the pit as he did so. Shadows cast by the trees swayed across the surface of the wall. It took him a moment to realize that the lighting behind the shadows was the moon itself, as no other source behind him cast as much light. It was amazing that he could see them at all considering the halo of light coming over the roof of the convenience store. Something about the movement of the shadows struck Ryan as odd: their swaying lacked any unified motion, which didn't make sense, as all the trees experienced the same wind. Something about their motion was oddly mesmerizing, and it was getting faster, an agitation boiling through the shadows utterly unlike the rippling of the leaves that was their source. Ryan heard only a soft and steady susurration overhead. If anything, the wind was decreasing, dropping to the barest breeze that could not create that whirlwind in the shadows. Of a sudden, the shadows collapsed, the scattered bits and pieces pulling together, collecting at the center of the closed metal door in a small dark circle no bigger than Ryan's head. In doing so, they left the rest of the wall dim and grey and lacking any distinction in lighting. Remembering the flashlight in his hand, he shined it at the wall, trying to chase away the shadow, or at least illuminate some part of the grey wall, but the flashlight wouldn't touch it, even though it lit the leaves at the wall's foot. The circle of darkness pushed outward, stretching unevenly in every direction, here and there coming up against limits, then collapsing in on itself again. It expanded again, and again, breathing in and out and each time going a little bit further, more and more of it reaching the outer edges of the shape it was trying to fill, a vaguely man-like shape with oddly shaped arms and a bird's head.

Ryan hadn't believed it was real. He still didn't believe it was real. But he recognized the shape of the shadow-thing, even with the darkness filling out only part of the form. The breathing shadows expanded one last time, reaching all the way to the tips of its talons, and this time the shadows didn't collapse again. It was flat, two dimensional, just the shape of the thing Ryan had seen before, until it opened its glowing red eyes, cat-like pupils shrinking to a slit, as if this cat had more than enough light. The head had seemed bird-like to Ryan before, but he hadn't realized quite how ugly it was. This was no Egyption god with the head of an eagle. It had neither the fierce beauty of a hawk nor the humble grace of a swallow. Instead, it looked like the head of a featherless, newly-hatched chick, all wide eyes and hungry beak and wattles of skin hanging from bone. It began to move. As it had reached out of the mirror to claw Ryan before, now it lifted one leg, its knee joint bending in the opposite direction of a human's, and the cat's paw it had for a foot lifted off of the metal door the shape had formed on. Only when it separated from the wall did it gain any depth, but it was no longer a paw when it did so, but a scuffed and muddy black boot, covered by the hem of grey slacks. More of the leg appeared, and if it weren't for the shadow that preceded it, it would have looked like it was walking through the closed door. Ryan knew who he was looking at even before the tail of a black trenchcoat came off the wall. It was Red-eyes.

Scratch the mutant theory off the list. No mutant can do that! The face lifted out of the metal surface, still blocky and locked in a rigid grimace as if it were made of stone. He stepped out of the wall and kept walking, not pausing to catch his bearings after taking form out of shadow. His clothes were the same expensive garments he had worn before, but while he had seemed well-groomed and neat when Ryan had first seen him, now he was unkempt. Water streamed down his face, although it was not raining here. His hair lay limp, matted to his head, and even his mustache dripped water. His blank trenchcoat was damp and dripping as well, stained with mud, and his pants were stained and rumpled and frayed. Ryan had nearly forgotten how big he was, wide as well as tall. It didn't take much for someone to tower over Ryan, and this guy would tower over anyone. The eyes were still red, and while they did not glow with the same intensity as the shadow-form, they still shone in the night, reflecting light like some animal's. It seemed unlikely that the moonlight could produce that bright of a reflection. Maybe... maybe it's an hallucination. Maybe I didn't just see him appear out of shadow. Maybe he's not even here. Why would he be? I thought he wasn't after me.

Ryan decided that real or not, he better act as though it was, and right now there wasn't time to speculate. He had to run, to get to the car. If he made a wide enough arc around Red-eyes, if he was fast enough... Red-eyes was too close already, but Ryan took a step back, shifting his legs so he could sprint in the transverse direction. Ryan had never seen Red-eyes move quickly, never seen him run, or move at any speed other than that distance-eating stride, but somehow Red-eyes covered the intervening space quicker than Ryan could even shift his weight. He couldn't even cry out before the large hand locked around his neck. Red-eyes didn't squeeze, not like in the dream where he had strangled Ryan. Or had that been the shadow-thing? The huge hand only applied the minimum pressure to hold onto him. The hand was cold, the same icy chill he had felt in the dream, and damp with what felt like ice water. Ryan thought he could feel his body temperature dropping, and in his shock, he didn't even think of struggling. What could he do?

"What do you want with me?" he asked, hoping to stall as long as he could still breathe. Maybe I can kick him... If I can reach! His arm's as long as my leg!

The mouth opened, and again Ryan heard a voice that sounded as if it came from a long way off, coming from this man's lips as if he were just mouthing words spoken by another. "You still do not know? You are a fool." Maybe Ryan was crazy, but he was pretty sure the lips weren't even in synch with the words.

"Yeah, maybe. So tell me."

"I do not want you."

"Do you want her? Her brother? Why attack me?"

Red-eyes stared straight into his eyes. "To get what I want, I must go through you."

Ryan closed his eyes to shut out the sight and saw an afterimage of the shining eyes. His headache was getting worse, though the slight feverishness he had felt before was replaced with a chill. Even his teeth ached with cold. Ryan's heart should have been thudding faster than a drum, but it had instead slowed, choking on his sluggish blood. The tingling which had affected his scar seemed to be growing, as now his entire forearm tingled. Ryan had wondered why Red-eyes wasn't squeezing the life out of him, but now he realized he was. Ryan was dying not by strangulation, but by hypothermia. Was that even possible? Could Red-eyes leach the heat out of him like this? It's happening, whether I believe it or not. If I'm going to survive, I have to do something now! His arms felt leaden and numb, aside from the tingling which had now passed Ryan's right elbow, and that had become worse. It now felt like pins and needles jabbing their way into his flesh. Forcing his arms into motion—he had to open his eyes and look to make sure they were really moving--Ryan managed to wrap his hands around Red-eyes' wrist. He pushed against his arm, at the same time digging in with his heels and thrusting himself backwards.

To his surprise, Red-eyes' grip really was no tighter than it felt, and Ryan's sudden action broke him free of it. He tried to catch himself with one leg as he started to fall, but his foot found no ground beneath. The pit! How'd I get so close to the edge?

His hands still had hold of Red-eyes' wrist, and now he was the one who held on despite the freezing numbness in his hands. His right foot found the wall of the pit and scrambled to find the ledge, but Red-eyes was already moving forward, his other arm reaching towards Ryan's hands. He could not have made a reasoned decision to fall rather than be caught. Maybe it was panicked reflex that made him let go, or perhaps his cold-dead fingers just didn't have the strength to hold on. Let go he did. Red-eyes wasn't going to let him go that easily, and his huge hand wrapped around Ryan's, crushing the fingers in its attempt to hold onto him. But he was off-balance as well, and with Ryan's forward momentum added to his own, his preternatural steadiness left him. As Ryan went over the edge, Red-eyes went with him, the two of them twisting as Ryan tried to pull away and Red-eyes tried to hold on. Earth and leaf-dappled sky, darkness and Red-eyes whirled in Ryan's vision, and the only thought he had time for was that when Red-eyes landed on top of him, he would be crushed.

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This chapter is 3,448 words long, bringing the total length of the story to 27,253. Okay, now it's novella length. Let's see if we can reach full novel size!