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“Take me. You want me, I’m stronger. Take me .”
The creature narrows its eyes at her. It is impossible to tell what it is thinking. It is impossible to tell if it is thinking at all. But it had sniffed at both of them before choosing Darry, and it was hesitating now. She can hear Darry choking and refuses to look at him, not taking her eyes off the creature’s. She nods slowly in encouragement.
“Let him go, and take me.”
The creature lets out a small growl. A hand is held out towards her, offering.
“Trish, don’t. ”
She takes no notice of her brother. She steps towards the outstretched hand, feeling the cops shift into position behind her.
“Drop him,” she says softly, when she is inches away.
He snarls, yanks her towards him at the same time as he pushes Darry away, into the cops and their guns. It launches into the air before anyone can react, the force of it making her dizzy. She looks down at her dangling feet as the world gets further and further away, as Darry screams after her.
She closes her eyes and goes limp in its claws. She is not afraid. She saved her brother, and that’s all that matters. She tries to find some vague pleasure in her last moments; the wind in her hair, the stars and the full moon when she opens her eyes.
After a while, something changes in the creature’s pace and they start to descend. She sees what looks like it was once an old factory, eerily silver and quiet in the moonlight, surrounded by fields. Crows she can’t see caw at her, although they should be in their nests after dark. BEATNGU is parked outside, and she has to swallow at the memory.
They land with a gentle thump. The creature finds his balance before she does, and drags her when she stumbles. The instinct to fight rears its head, but she forces it down. She promised she wouldn’t, and there was nothing stopping the creature going back for Darry if she did. She just hopes they have come far away enough for no-one to be able to follow.
The smell hits hard inside, of damp and rotting meat. She thinks immediately of the bodies, before remembering the church had been burnt down, that this place presumably wouldn’t be decorated.
It’s too dark for her to see by, but the creature can either see or seems to know exactly where it’s going. She is pushed back on to what feels like a stone slab or table, and her hands are roped together above her head.
Then, it begins to sniff at her again. It sniffs long and hard like an animal, like it had the first time, making little noises that could be of either satisfaction or frustration.
Just get it over with, she wants to plead, and has to bite her lip to keep it from coming out. She doesn’t want to encourage it to play with her.
It lets out a snarl then, louder than the others, and steps away.
“Waste.”
She stares up at it in shock. Did it just speak?
“...waste?” she echoes.
“Waste,” it growls again. “Nothing to eat.”
She blinks, confused.
“I’m the same as Darry. Inside.”
“Not same. Not afraid.”
“I am afraid!”
She was resigned, and relieved for her brother, but still very much afraid. But apparently this wasn’t enough.
“You’re-you’re not going to go back for him, are you?”
“No.”
The creature isn’t sniffing at her now, but she can feel him staring. She imagines what his old ceiling must have looked like, and tries not to shudder.
“So, you’re just going to kill me for the sake of it?”
“Deciding.”
After a moment it turns and leaves her. The faint glow of candles comes from the room he’d disappeared in, and she hears the crackly sound of a phonograph. Jeepers Creepers plays on repeat a couple of times, before switching to other hits from the 1920s and 30s. She wonders if she is going mad.
She blocks it out and tries to think.
It could talk. That meant it could be reasoned with, that it could communicate back if it was not happy with what was offered. She had talked it into letting Darry go, so maybe she could talk it into letting her go too, if she had nothing for it to eat.
If it could talk, could that mean it had been human once? That it was part human now?
It does not return for some time, the only sound between songs being the click of the record changing. She feels herself starting to drift. She had not been sleeping well at college, and now the immediate danger was over - Darry was safe, and she was apparently safe, at least for the time being - and her body is shutting down. She sleeps.
*****
It is still dark when she wakes, although the creature has brought candles into this room also. She looks around and is relieved to find no bodies, only what looks like abandoned factory equipment and dripping walls. She cranes her head to try and get a look at the creeper, but his back is turned, working on something in his hands. Its clothes have been removed, revealing wings folded against its back, and white hair that straggled down to his hips.
“How old are you?” she finally whispers, of all things.
“Old,” it replies, without looking round.
“...what are you?”
No reply this time. Perhaps it didn’t know.
“Were you human once?”
Nothing.
She tries a different tack.
“Why were you going to pick Darry? Was it because he saw the church?”
“Could be,” it replies, and she has to struggle to make out its gravelly voice. “But men usually more afraid.”
She takes a moment to absorb this. Not really a priority, but she wishes this statement could be made public.
She watched it some more, and decides to go down an even riskier road. She has to get it to talk to her.
“Why haven’t you killed me?”
It snorts, as if acknowledging her foolhardiness. Then it seems to relent.
“Not seen before,” it says. “Willingly sacrificing for others.”
She opens her mouth and closes it again, deciding not to probe. She decides she will leave the creature with that thought of her, whether it be fascination or exasperation or pity.
He stands then, hauling his coat over his shoulders and picking up his hat. He ignores the boots and the rest of his outfit, and leaves without acknowledging her. The candles are still burning. She wonders vaguely if it would be better to burn to death than go through whatever he might do to her.
When she’s sure it’s far away enough, she starts to scream.
She doesn’t try for very long. They are miles from anything. She struggles, trying to twist out of her ropes, loosen them, find something sharp to saw at them. Tears of frustration come to her eyes: she was alone, uninjured, with only her wrists tied up, and in ropes not in chains. She had to find a way out.
She sobs in exhaustion, drawing up her knees. Her arms were starting to cramp from being held in the same position for so long.
Worn out from struggling and screaming, she rests her eyes for a moment and tries to calm her breathing.
Bizarrely, she finds herself thinking about college, about the affair Darry had so mocked her for. The last time she had been in this position had been with her lover, hands tied above her head. She did it to humour him, but it wasn’t half bad.
She shakes her head. Why was she thinking this? The mind played weird tricks in times of crisis.
Her muscles slack in defeat, and she lets herself sink into a half-sleep, the muscle memory brought on by her position flooding her mind with images and sensations.
*****
Next thing she knows he is back. The candles have nearly burned out, but she can make out the sheeted, unmoving body on the floor. Whoever it was was probably her and Darry’s replacement.
Or not. He is sniffing at her again. She flinches, and her movement draws her attention downwards; she is slightly wet from her dream. The creature moves down her body, still sniffing.
“Stop it,” she whispers. She tries to kick, but it grabs her legs and holds them.
“Thought you won’t fight,” he sneers.
Her eyes screw shut as he noses right into her crotch, breathing heat as he sniffs her through her jeans.
Then he is undoing them and yanking them down to her knees, along with her panties.
“Oh, God,” she says, sobbing now. “Oh God, oh God, oh God -”
It licks her, along her lips and over her sensitive bud. She shivers unwillingly, and it licks again.
“Stop it,” she whispers.
It presses its tongue into her clit then, holding it there, and she has to fight with every cell of her being not to buck into it.
“Fuck you,” she gasps. “Fuck you, you sick, psychopathic -”
The tongue is removed without warning, making her gasp again. Two fingers enter her, thankfully declawed of their talons. She is so wet it doesn’t even hurt, and her walls clamp around him against her will.
“Stop,” she sobs, thinking of the policeman and its teeth.
The creeper lets out a sound that could be a laugh.
“Won’t bite,” he says.
The its fingers are replaced with its tongue, and she lets out a yell that would have embarrassed her even in front of her boyfriend. He has to hold her down by the hips as he finishes her, as her orgasm jolts through her body like an electric shock. He withdraws as she comes down, licking at her thighs and cheeks were her juices have trickled.
Her eyes are still shut when it removes her pants completely, freeing her legs. She braces herself for the worst, but it only pushes her legs open to flick its tongue at her clit, gently warming her up again.
“Oh, God, stop.”
Taking no notice, its hands wander up her sides and push up her tank top, easily tearing through her bra, revealing her erect nipples. She groans as he begins to tweak and play with them, feeling herself fire up again below.
“Fuck you,” she splutters. “Fuck you, you fucking monster. I’ll kill you for this, I swear I will.”
The mouth leaves her cunt. He moves up and starts licking and kissing her breasts instead, taking care with his teeth. One of his hands travels down and runs itself over her opening, without going any further. She bucks in frustration, straining against the ropes. She can feel the unmistakable brush of his penis against her leg. It feels like any other, if a little bigger, and the smell of sweat and salt in the air is so normal, so human. With her eyes closed, it was almost as if it were someone else. After a while it becomes clear that he’s not going to do anything but tease her.
She thrusts slightly into his hand. When this doesn't work, she grits her teeth and opens her legs, arching her hips up in the direction of his cock. He snarls and plunges into her. She cries out in both pain and relief. He is sitting over her now, fully sheathed, as she pulsates around him. She strains against the ropes without feeling them, sweat dripping into her eyes.
He starts to move then, wings extending around him. She lifts her legs blindly and wraps them around his waist.
She nearly passes out this time as she comes. His wings come down at either side of her as he comes, cocooning her.
It seems to take forever for him to withdraw himself, as if he is snaked up with her insides.
She may have passed out, as the next thing she knows the creeper is standing by her head and slashing one of the ropes. Next thing she knows her left hand is free, and he draws her up by the waist and pushes a canister into her hand. Water. She doesn’t care where it’s from or whether it’s contaminated; after all the screaming and the trauma and the fucking, it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever tasted.
Her arm shakes, cramping from being held in the same position for so long. She fingers at the remaining ropes halfheartedly, finding no give in them. and tries to think strategically. Whatever that thing was, it was a man, and it hadn’t so much as scratched her, even if it had been rough. If she could satisfy it for however many days it had left, perhaps it would reward her with her life.
It starts nuzzling her crotch. Feeling her respond, it moves up her body until it gets to her remaining bound hand, tearing the rope free.
Then it settles its mouth on her breasts again, idly fingering her below, and she realises it’s going to play with her again until she’s about to come apart. Not allowing herself time to think, she grabs its shoulders and thrusts herself on to him.
He gives a little grunt of surprise, then pulls her up so she is sitting astride on his lap, riding him, as his wings curve around her. Then, she closes her eyes as the world starts to shake.
*****
She falls into a deep and long sleep. The creature is still next to her when she wakes, one wing draped lazily over her. She remembers it had been on top of her until she could no longer bear the weight, and it took the hint and shifted aside to where it was now. Her hand opens, half asleep, and her fingers graze his inner wing. She strokes it once, fascinated in spite of herself.
She stays curled in his wing for a while, until her body reminds her what it had woken her for.
“Can I go outside?” she ventures, somehow knowing it was not asleep. “I need to pee.”
It raises its wing from over her and holds it aloft. Go ahead.
Outside, as she pulls down her pants, she puts her fingers between her legs and looks at them. Out of morbid curiosity, she even puts one to the tip of her tongue. Normal. Something chills her then. When was her period due again? She starts mentally counting back the days. She had come off the pill a few months back when it had made her sick and lethargic. That thing couldn't get her pregnant, could it? It’s not like she could ask him to run to the nearest pharmacy to get her the morning after pill.
Trembling, she squats to pee. She takes a good look round as she does so, but it is as deserted as she knew it would be. No signs, no landmarks, no clue to where she is. She looks at the truck as she finishes, wondering idly if he ever left the keys inside. He’d probably outfly it anyway.
She goes back inside, shivering. It was somehow warm under his wing. When he finally gets up and withdraws his wing she’s surprised at how cold she feels.
“I don’t suppose you have anything resembling a blanket,” she says as she curls up, thinking of his coat.
He goes outside for a moment and returns while an armful of sheets, unused and wrapped in polystyrene. He drops them at her feet, leaving her to tear through the plastic and make a nest that blocked out the worst of the chill and the damp.
He is working with his back turned again once she is settled.
“Who was that woman?” she calls suddenly.
No response.
“You know, that woman?” she prompts again.
“With cats?”
“No,” Trish says, wincing as she thinks of the poor woman’s fate. “At the police station. She knew things, I mean, she knew our names, she knew what Darry saw, and, and she said that every 23 years, for 23 days, you get to eat. Is that true?”
He is quiet for a moment.
“Some people know things. Not just me, things about the world. More understanding than other humans.”
“Psychic?”
“Called many things.”
She studies his back.
“...is it true? 23 days?”
He ignores her.
“What day are you on now?”
No response.
“Do you know?”
“Yes,” he answers, surprising her. But he is clearly not going to tell her.
“You fuck many humans before?”
He snorts.
“What do you think?”
She thinks he seemed like he knew what he was doing, but doesn’t say this.
“Ever eat animals?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He snorts.
“Be like you eating rats. No nutrition. Do it if had to.”
One of the crows screams outside, louder than normal.
“What’s with the crows?” she asks him.
“They like scraps.”
God. She shouldn’t have asked. But then, what should she ask him? What can she ask him? She thinks of Darry, and almost laughs when she thinks of Darry asking the creeper if he watched football and telling him frat boy jokes.
She pushes on, wanting to take advantage of his apparent talkativeness.
“Are you from this country?”
There’s a slight pause before he answers.
“Not really.”
“Have you spoken to a human before? And don’t say not really.”
“Not really,” he says, and she can practically hear him grinning, and rolls her eyes.
Her period has still not come. Her stomach squeezes rhythmically, which is a good sign, but blood does not come.
*****
Finally, the familiar pain comes to a head, followed by wetness. Thank God. The blood is thick and flowing fast. She can rip up one of the sheets and make herself some pads.
Beside her, the creeper sniffs and comes over, trailing his hand up her thigh.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she warns.
“Why?” he says. “Because of a little blood?”
It’s incredible how much better it makes her feel. No-one had ever done that to her on her period before. She had been worried the blood would whet his appetite, but he kept his teeth back as usual.
He gets off her once she is done, and she calls after him before he can go in the other room.
“Hey, is Rainbow Springs near here?”
Predictably, he ignores her.
“I’m not asking so I can hop on the nearest tour bus,” she says. “I just wondered if there’s somewhere near here that I could get clean. I feel gross.”
She has spent over 24 hours in old sweat and blood and other fluids now.
She doesn't expect him to respond, but a little later he drags her out and into the air. He hasn't bothered with his coat and hat, so she hopes this means they will be staying away from any potential victims.
And she is right.
They land by a pure blue spring, almost fairy-tale like in the golden sun.
“Go on,” he says, giving her a little push.
“Are there alligators?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Smell.”
Fair enough. She peels off her soiled clothes, to excited about the prospect of getting clean to be modest, and jumps in. The water is soothing in the balmy Florida heat.
The creature also enters the water and stays in there for a long time. Trish wouldn’t be surprised if it had sprouted gills and was hunting fish. She swims to the bank for her clothes and tries to get the worst of the stains out.
He returns from the water when she is so occupied, stretching out in as if sunbathing. She looks at him from the bank.
“You have a name?
She’s not sure why she didn’t ask this first.
“Humans call me many things,” he answers without opening his eyes.
“Yeah, but do you have a name you were actually given, or something you call yourself?”
No response.
She moves away from the bank to dry, and decides to push her luck even further.
“Ever wish you were different?”
He sneers.
“Why, because human beings so nice and fluffy?”
“We’re not so bad,” she says quietly.
“Not so different either,” he counters. “Pigs and chickens.”
It takes her a moment to understand.
“Are you saying...you can’t possibly be comparing that to what you do?”
“Why not?” he says, finally opening his eyes. “Pigs, cows, chickens, sheep. They all have bonds and same instincts, feel same pain. It’s nothing personal. I eat same as you.”
“But- we slaughter our food humanely!”
He snorts.
“Go to slaughterhouse and see,” he tells her. “Worse than me, sometimes.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but apparently he’s not done.
“And humans doing more damage than me,” he says lazily. “World worse every time I wake up.”
“Oh, so you’re an environmentalist now as well as an animal right advocate?” she snaps. “Global warming hasn’t been proven.”
“Don’t know about global warming, but planet getting hotter and air getting more polluted. Too much burning, too much waste. Can smell when someone from a city and don’t go near them.”
She makes a mental note to tell Darry to move to New York pronto, if she ever sees him again.
“You were human once, weren’t you?” she says. “The things you know, you must have been.”
“Have radio,” he says. “News on a lot. Easy to know.”
Something occurs to her then.
“You said you wouldn’t eat anyone from a city. Do you mean you can smell if people have health problems, like if someone has cancer?”
“Yes.”
“...is that why you picked Darry? Is he healthier?”
“No. Both healthy. He more afraid.”
“What did you want from him?”
“You don’t want to know.”
*****
The truck catches her eye when he takes her back, and she realises something rather obvious.
“It’s not ‘beating you,’ it’s ‘be eating you.’ “
“Well done.”
She glares at him, but he takes no notice of her and goes inside. He hadn't bothered tying her up again since they arrived, as there was clearly nowhere for her to go. The truck catches her eye again then.
"Know things. Have radio." Radio. She walks towards the truck as if in a trance. She glances behind her, but he is inside and clearly not watching her. She rattles as the door handle, trying to yank it open without clanking the metal. She finally pulls it open, only for a spear to shoot out, making her scream, narrowly missing her.
The creeper appears in the doorway, and looks at it and at her like it was the stupidest display he had ever seen. She crawls backwards on her elbows, but he only fixes the truck and doesn't touch her.
She finds tears in her eyes.
“You would have left us alone if we’d kept on driving, right?” .
“Yes,” he admits, shutting the truck door behind him. “Could smell you were young and alone. But no real need to eat. Was very surprised you stuck around.”
She sighs. Fucking Darry.
“What about in the next 23 years?” she asks, struggling to her feet. “Will you go looking for him?”
“Not worth trouble. But will attack if he attacks me.”
He pushes her against the slab once they are inside and goes down on her once again, licking up the fresh blood as if it were honey. She waits for him to shove her mouth or hand on his cock, but he never does. Her release builds once again, and it soothes her cramps like no tomorrow.
“Can’t you let me go on the 23rd day?” she whispers. “ I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll keep Darry away. Please?” she says, as she can see he’s going to ignore her. “I mean, we’re close, aren’t we?”
He snorts at this.
“You trying to stay alive,” he sneers. “ Not close.”
“OK, so then tell me, how can I stay alive?” she says. "What do you want me to do?"
“Stop questions, for one.”
“Fine.”
She realises then that she can’t ask him what else she needs to do, and he laughs at her, and draws her into his wings.
“Still deciding,” he tells her.
“Fuck you,” she mumbles back, but doesn’t dare push him off. Still deciding what, whether to eat her, let her go or display her on the wall? She tries to swallow her fear, to diminish the chances of the first option. The first pangs of hunger come. Starving to death was also apparently an option, unless he decided to feed her while he was making up his mind. She draws her knees up and shuts her eyes, too worn out to think.
****
It is day 22, minutes before day 23. It had been an interesting 23 days. It always was.
She is asleep next to him, in his wings, and he is tempted to wake her and taste her one last time, but she is tired and he doesn’t want to coax her. She will be dead in a few more cycles anyway.
****
She gets up when he does, pulling up her clothes in the dark. It is cold in the dark, and makes sense for her to rest in the day when he does. She finds the last of the water and drains it. She is about to ask if there is any more, when he hauls her outside without warning and takes off. They are airborne for a long time, and she doesn’t dare speak or hope. Houses come into view, small as toys, and her heart starts to thud. He nosedives then, fast enough to make her dizzy, and she wonders if he’s changed his mind and decided to kill her instead.
Then they are near the ground, and he holds her steady as they land.
“Here,” he says, giving her a tiny push from behind. “Find phone.”
She stares at the town in amazement.
“You’re letting me -”
“Yes.”
She tries to turn around.
“Tha -”
He takes off with enough force to almost knock her over. She watches him get smaller and smaller without slowing or looking back.
She doesn’t remember much after that. She remembers finding a house, someone bringing her a blanket and hot tea. She gives them her parents’ phone number. And then a car is squealing out front and then Darry is clinging to her and sobbing like he did when he was very small.
“What happened?” he demands. “Are you OK? Trish, what happened ?”
“I don’t remember,” she says. “I don’t remember anything.”
******
23 years later
“You sure you’re OK by yourself?” her husband asks again, hand on her belly.
“Sure,” she smiles. “Take the boys, have fun. A little time to myself is what I need right now.” She kisses him to sweeten the words. This baby had been a surprise (she hates the word ‘accident,’) and she supposes she is a little old. But she is also healthy, and it is probably her last chance of having a girl.
He looks doubtful, but she can see him giving in.
“We won’t stay long," he says. "Keep the phone by you.”
She kisses him again and kisses her kids goodbye, waving to them from the door. Then she sits on one of the rockers on the porch, looking out into the fields.
She knows the date. Darry had begged her to bring the family and stay with him in New York for the month, but there was no need.
A crow lands on her porch railings and caws at her. Then another. She smiles to herself, unafraid. Inside her, the baby kicks.
She closes her eyes and thinks of nothing. She doesn’t know how long she drifts before she hears an unmistakable beat of wings. She opens her eyes, and there he is in front of her. She smiles at him.
“Hello again.”
“Still no fear,” he growls. “Unbelievable.”
“Is that what you came for?”
“No.”
She struggles to stand, and he offers a hand to help her. And then she is in his arms and in his wings, and God help her if it didn’t bring tears to her eyes.
“Pregnant,” he growls.
She smiles weakly. She is the size of a house.
“How did you know, is it the smell?”
They sit on the steps of the porch. She leans back into him and his wings curve around her.
“Smell healthy,” he says. “Healthy baby.”
“Good,” she says softly. “It’s my third. Hoping for a girl.”
“You don’t know?” he says, sounding surprised.
“We didn’t want to know, we - wait, do you know?”
“You just said didn’t want to know,” he growls.
“Yeah, but if you’re sitting right here and you know, you have to tell me.”
He snorts at this.
“Not changed, I see.”
“Tell me.”
“Girl. Will be like you.”
She smiles.
“Not long now,” he says. “Surprised you’re alone.”
“A few weeks,” she says.
“You don’t eat meat now?”
“You can smell that too?”
“Smell healthier.” He pauses. “How is Darius?"
“Very far away,” she says. “And terrified.”
“Will not go to him.”
He is solid and real behind her, his fingers over hers. She is glad she is not crazy. She never told anyone, not even Darry, and sometimes she doubted it had really happened. Sometimes she dreamed she was in trouble and he would wake up and come for her.
“Maybe I’ll see you the next time round,” she tells him. “Though I’ll be old then. Older.”
"Humans living longer," is all he says.
She thinks for a moment.
“Today isn’t day 23, is it?” she says. “Maybe I’ll see you again before the end. Come any time I'm alone.”
“Think you be mother again by then,” he says, rubbing her belly. “Not alone so much.”
She closes her eyes. The sun warms her skin, his wings envelope her, and the baby stirs now and again inside her. Despite everything, she is happy.
“Need to go now,” he says.
He helps her stand. Then he is in the air before she can say anything else.
She squints into the sky, one hand on her belly and one sheltering her eyes from the sun, as she watches him disappear.