Bright Moon Page 4

  Three windows stretched from floor to ceiling and were covered with sheer curtains. A bed was situated so the stars could be seen while laying on it. The bed itself was huge and seemed excessive with posts draped with the same fabric as the curtains. The fabrics were shades of soft blue and lavender. The carpet was a dusty blue and the walls were painted soft pink. There was a dresser and a little sofa with a matching coffee table. A small fridge stood on the counter of a kitchen sink tucked in the furthest corner of the room. On the wall opposite the bed, a large flat screen TV was mounted.

  Presently she kicked off her shoes and was about to flop onto the bed when she noticed an outfit rolled up and tucked into a pillow. The presence of such articles of clothing mystified her, yet she was grateful to have something clean to wear. She snatched them up and went to the bathroom, impressed by the level of luxury. Everything she could possibly need was there. There was a packaged toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and even little bottles of shampoo in the shower.

  After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she changed into the cotton black bottoms and red tee, turned off the lights and went to climb into the humongous bed. She pulled the covers tight around her like a cocoon then gently drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 2 - Found

  An astonishing recollection of the previous evening’s events drew her from the sound slumber she sustained through what was left of the night. Morning dawned bright and new. Light splayed through the curtains even though it was much earlier than she’d anticipated waking after getting to sleep so late. A pink rose occupied a glass vase which sat atop the glossy surface of the chestnut nightstand. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall if it had been there the night before.

  The hollow in the pit of her stomach drove her from the safety of bed. Otherwise, she would have stayed wrapped in cushy warmth as long as she could have gotten away with it. The dirty and bloodied clothes she’d worn the day before were missing. In the bathroom, everything she’d used had been replaced like she hadn’t been there at all. When she ventured to the hall, the house was quiet. She didn’t know where Tyson was, nor did she know if there were others around. The thick quiet made her feel as if she had stepped into a library, so she tiptoed, winding her way to the kitchen, succeeding in finding it after getting lost only once. Like everything else, it was handsome and grand. The cabinets were stained black and the counters were granite. It might have been solemn if not for the happy sunflowers that decorated the tops of the cabinets and stainless steel refrigerator. A table, the same black of the cabinets, was beyond the counter. On it, a bowl of fruit resided in the center and she snatched a banana, feeling a thief in the alien surroundings.

  Soft sunlight poured through a set of double doors that led to a beckoning backyard. Slowly, carefully, she went and opened the door nearest her to step onto the patio. She breathed deeply of the fresh morning air. A garden nearby lent the scent of exotic flowers. She could also smell the damp grass of the expansive and well cared for lawn, which mingled with the deep soft scent of soil. Hearing the chitter-chatter of birds completed the serene scene. She bit into her banana while waiting for the pink tinge in the morning sky to change.

  Unease crossed the yard when the chirping of birds suddenly stopped. Flocks of the little creatures suddenly took to the air in every direction. The low rumble of numerous, powerful legs hitting the earth was heard and felt as the ground grumbled. She glanced around as the sound grew increasingly louder. Her heart almost stopped when someone jerked her from behind.

  “What are you doing?” Tyson’s cold, accusing eyes stared down at her. He had a hand on either of her shoulders. Color had returned to his face and he looked a thousand times better than the night before, even if he frowned. His strength was ominous now that he wore a form fitting tee. His firm, square jaw clenched and his stern brow knit in apparent anger. He glanced over her head and beyond the yard. With little effort, he pushed her inside then moved with such speed that she lost sight of him.

  An atrociously monstrous noise filled the air. Dozens of enormous wild dogs came over the rise. Their presence consumed the backyard. Awful howling drowned out any other thought or feeling. The manged beasts were larger than any house dog she’d ever seen, but that’s what they appeared to be—huge domesticated dogs that had gone crazy with some kind of disease.

  Everything happened so quickly that she had a hard time following the action from where she stood just inside the kitchen. The beasts were digging up earth as they ran at the house. Tyson stood on slightly bent legs with his arms raised to brace for impact. His straw hair contrasted with the dull color of the attacking beasts. A scream of protest wanted to break free of her throat, but there wasn’t time for even that.

  One of the great mutts flew through the air, his hideous crazed eyes bulging. The mass of the monster was twice Tyson’s, so when he grabbed it out of the air and threw it to the ground with tremendous force, she was shocked to say the least. Her mouth fell open and she gasped. The whine of the dying creature cut through the deafening noise and its body was crushed on impact. She stared in grotesque awe, too horrified to move. The other dogs recognized Tyson as a threat and ran for him, their jaws agape. He caught one by its snout with one hand on its nose and the other on its lower jaw. The beast stopped short and he pried its jaws apart until they gave with a gut wrenching snap. They kept attacking despite his display of strength. Her stomach rolled and she tuned away, running right smack into a very solid person who almost sent her careening. She recognized his smell before her head snapped back for visual confirmation.

  “Callan!” she gasped, but his attention was fixated on the wild dogs outside. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her further in the house before bolting out. She was hurt by his lack of emotion and terrified to think of him fighting the monsters. With her heart in her throat she screamed, “Callan, no!”

  He didn’t listen and moved with inhuman speed to meet the onslaught of dogs. He leapt at one of them and crushed it with so much strength and ability that she was shocked to silence once more. A rush of wind startled her as someone ran by so fast her hair whipped her face. Another man appeared on the lawn, blocking the crazed creatures as they tried to get to her. The third addition was the shortest of the three and wore dark clothing.

  Beasts kept coming, one right after another, until there was a small mountain of bodies. The barking and howling lessened in time and she tore her eyes from the horrific scene when Callan crushed the skull of a dog under his foot. She couldn’t make herself look up until the yelping stopped completely. The three men stood as still as stone, listening for any movement. Their hands dripped red with blood and their clothes were splattered with it. Despite the violence, they seemed impervious and unhurt. The lawn was riddled with dozens and dozens of bodies. She wanted to run to her brother, to finally embrace him, but she was frozen with fear. Then the shock hit her full force. Her stomach flipped and she had to look away again. A cold chill started in her chest and ran up her arms until her stomach rejected what little of the banana she’d managed to eat.

  “Clara?” Callan’s voice was so near her ear that she jumped. Rising from the hunched position she’d taken, she wiped her mouth and looked into his eyes that were the exact same emerald green as her own. Before she could utter a word, Tyson moved behind Callan and grabbed him by the shirt. He pulled her brother back so Callan flew, but was able to keep his feet when he landed.

  “Don’t touch her!” Tyson snarled. His voice rolled like thunder, causing her to jump again.

  “I wasn’t going to!” Callan held his stained hands out defensively.

  “Don’t push him!” she snapped at Tyson. “You can’t treat people that way!”

  “Don’t you dare step out of the house,” Tyson snapped back when she edged toward the door.

  “Or what? You can’t tell me what to do!”

  “Come out and I will be forced to restrain you.”

  “Restrain me?” she repeated shrilly. “You do
n’t have the authority to do anything to me, or anyone!”

  “Clara, listen to him,” Callan said quickly.

  Anger caused her to bristle defensively. “You disappeared for years and this—” she cast her hands at the bodies strewn every which way. “This is how I learn where you are?” Her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears.

  “I-I’m sorry, sis, I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Ty?” the third man spoke with trepidation thick on his voice. Clara had forgotten he was there. His warning seemed to tune Tyson in to an unseen threat. He stopped a fraction of a second before his eyes grew wide. Her stomach jolted when he jerked her sideways. She wasn’t aware he’d moved until he suddenly dragged her into the house and shoved her into a pantry.

  “What are you doing? Are you insane?!” she screamed and pushed on the doorknob. The handle twisted, but the door wouldn’t open. She fumbled to find a light switch, but there was none. Barking and whining could be heard beyond her confinement. “Callan!” she yelled and banged on the door. The screaming and whining started, signaling the start of more death. Determined to be free of the suffocating closet, she threw her body into the door in a self destructive manner until a dull pain blossomed up her shoulder. She stepped back. Tremendous tremors and the sound of glass shattering only added fear to fear.

  “CALLAN!” she screamed as loud as she could, though she doubted anyone could hear over the chaos. She took a running start and slammed into the door. The sound of impact was lost to the noise. With her shoulder aching she banged with her fists. She couldn’t imagine how to survive the heartbreak of losing Callan right after she’d found him, especially when the last thing she’d said to him was spoken in anger. Panic gripped her chest and squeezed mercilessly. Again and again she pummeled into the door, tears spilling as she did.

  She called her brother’s name until something hit the door so hard it sent her careening. She fell, smacking into some broomsticks and cans of food. Everything crashed to the floor on top of her then clattered to the floor. She sat against the wall and drew her knees to her chest, hiding her face even though there was no one there to see. She covered her ears against the sounds, although it did no good. In time, the ground shaking shudders and bangs lessened, then ceased altogether. She wanted to run to the door, to see Callan, but her body was heavy. The seconds dragged on until someone finally cracked the door open. Her head felt as heavy as stone and she didn’t look up.

  “Clara?” Callan’s voice was at the door. She thought she said something, but a strange sound came from her lips.

  “Go wash and quickly,” Tyson commanded. “She’s in shock.”

  She tried to pull from the fog in her mind to understand what was happening. Not much later, she heard her brother again. “Clara?” He scooted in as if the closet were too small, even though his body fit with plenty of space to spare. “Can you hear me?” His comforting hands took hers.

  “I don’t hate you,” she mumbled.

  “What?” His brow creased in confusion.

  “I just want to make sure you know I don’t hate you.”

  He chuckled and pulled her into a hug. She couldn’t help but notice he wore fresh clothing and smelled of rubbing alcohol. “I love you too, sis.”

  The tender moment was short-lived. Tyson pulled at Callan’s arm urgently. “You need to taker her and run.”

  Callan obediently backed out and stood, lifting Clara easily in his arms. “Tyson,” he said while looking at his sister. Her hands trembled and she was pale. “I can’t take her.”

  “What?” Clara and Tyson’s exclamation rang out at the same moment.

  “Why not?” Tyson barked.

  “What if I lose control? What if I can’t keep her safe?”

  “You won’t…and you will,” Tyson reassured. After his rash mannerism the night before, his compassionate tone pleasantly surprised her.

  “How do you know? Please Ty, I can’t. I don’t trust myself.” Callan pushed Clara at him. “You take her.”

  “Nobody is going to take me!” She pushed from her brother, but he held her against her struggles. They didn’t seem to hear her either until she punched his chest. “Callan, put me down!”

  “I think she’s regaining some strength,” Tyson commented with raised brows.

  “I won’t be carried around this way!” she said stubbornly.

  Callan let her feet fall. Tyson grabbed her arm. “Don’t let her down!” he scolded.

  “What if I hurt her?” Callan complained.

  “Let go of me!” She tried to yank her arm free. Tyson, unsurprisingly, held tight.

  “Look around!” Tyson shook her once and cast his arm over their surroundings. “We don’t have time for tantrums!”

  A retort was fresh on her tongue, but it died when she looked around. The scene before her silenced any retaliation she might have offered. The back section of the house, where the kitchen had been, was gone and the bare sky met her eyes instead of a ceiling. A continuous pile of rubble surrounded them. The flooring she stood on was in shambles. Amongst the rubble, there were dog bodies everywhere, broken and mutilated.

  “What are they?” she asked.

  “She shouldn’t see this,” Callan said.

  “I can’t protect her anymore,” Tyson snapped. “She needs to learn.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Clara whispered. “I can hear.”

  “Tyson, please!” Callan’s hand clapped over her eyes as they roamed the slaughter. “She’s seen enough.”

  Tyson pried Callan’s hand from her face. “Will you listen now?” he asked harshly. She tried not to look anywhere and nodded, noticing he was wearing clean clothes and smelled of alcohol as well. “More are on the way, you have to kill them all or they will escape and infect innocents.” He spoke to Callan and the other, but grabbed Clara, taking her off her feet. Irritation died in her throat. She had to trust his judgment.

  “Clara,” Callan hesitantly touched her arm in an encouraging way. “I might not see you for awhile.”

  “How long is awhile?”

  “Just a few days at the most, I’ll catch up, okay?”

  She nodded, blinking back tears.

  “We have to go.” Tyson moved from him. “Put your arms around my neck,” he muttered begrudgingly. “You may want to close your eyes.”

  She obeyed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her head lowered in order to shut her eyes when something caught her attention. A pink rose stood out in the midst of the rubble. She had no idea if it was the one she’d seen in her room, but it was unnerving to see it lying in a puddle of blood. Tyson began to move just then and the world blurred as wind ripped her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Tyson tighter. She thought she heard him laugh, but pretended not to notice. It wasn’t the only thing she tried not to notice. Beyond the smell of rubbing alcohol, he smelled of fresh plants and his muscles were strong under her touch. She felt ridiculous while observing these things, while at the same time her heart tore in her chest. All the pain that had built since her brother left threatened to manifest then. She pressed her eyes shutnharder as if that could stop the pain that flowered from their separation.

  A few minutes into their venture, she mustered the courage to open her eyes, peeking through one lid. She forced her eyes open and the wind instantly drew tears. Trees and undergrowth passed too quickly to discern except in blurs. Finally, she turned her head and closed her eyes, wondering how long Tyson could go on that way. Callan said they wouldn’t see each other for a few days, would Tyson insist on carrying her all that time? She pushed the idea aside and focused her thoughts back on her brother, remembering how tired his eyes seemed. Worse, the spark seemed to have gone out from them.

  Her thoughts broke and shattered when the sound of rushing wind stopped with such abruptness that her ears popped. A loud crack resulted when something collided with Tyson and they went flying. Instinctively, she knew whatever could knock Tyson from his path was
strong and quick. He dropped her and she hit the ground rolling until pain exploded on the entire side of her body, instantly blinding her.

  She knew blackness as her mind buzzed in and out until she finally came to with a gasp. She lay in the dirt at the foot of the tree she’d slammed in to. As near as she could tell, mere seconds had passed since she’d fallen. Snarling and blazon barking broke the silence. She reeled to discover the source of such an intense, fear inducing sound—sure the crazed dogs had somehow caught up with them. Through the trunks surrounding her she saw two wolves that were so large she mistook them for grizzly bears at first. The black wolf was darker than night and the other had a brown coat with a white belly and markings.

  Her heart should have been paralyzed with fear, but she couldn’t find it within herself. Instead, she carefully got to her feet, gasping in pain, yet unable to take her eyes from the horrific battle. The black wolf was the stronger of two—it was also the defender. The brown and white wolf attacked only to be forced back each time it sprang up with teeth flashing. A sound that shook the forest erupted from its throat and thunderous snarls curled its lip. With hackles raised, it attacked yet again. The black wolf grabbed it with strong jaws, throwing it to the ground with horrific force. The brown wolf thrashed when the black wolf’s teeth closed around its throat. Blood gushed from the wound and pooled in the dirt.

  Sure she was about to witness the canine’s death, Clara limped toward them. She was within twenty feet when the black wolf’s attention snapped to her. Their eyes locked and her heart started in her chest. Tyson’s icy blue eyes stared at her from the wolf’s body. He dropped the other wolf as if he just realized what he was doing. The brown wolf twitched then jolted upright and, like any sensible creature that nearly lost his life, he scampered away. The black wolf—Tyson—growled, but didn’t take his eyes from her. His ears fell back and he tilted his head.