<< Go Back

Nearer the Dawn

By AJ AVila

Order Now!

Thursday, July 12, 2 a.m.

Evil oozed up between the floorboards and glanced around. Puffs of dust, four bed legs. A throw rug nearby. Peaceful ticks from a clock.
The usual danger was nowhere in sight. Excellent.
A blob of thick oil, it crawled from under the bed, slithering along the planking, fingers of darkness gliding up the wall. It snaked along the ceiling, then paused, hovering over the four poster bed.
Below slept the loathsome creature.
Auburn hair, spread on the pillow, haloed her face. One hand rested on her stomach. The other, fingers curled upward, lay near her head.
Disgusting.
Oil coagulated, drew into a rough cylinder, its tip sculpturing into a serpentine head. Eyelids sliced open, red crescent pupils burning within. Scales sprouted along a belly coiled on the ceiling.
Eyes narrowing, it spiraled down to scrutinize the creature. Repugnance rose into a groan, dark vibrations purling outward and rippling about her brain before worming into her dream.
Her eyes slipped open.
Ah, yes. Time for terror. He thrust at her and hissed.
"Oh, pheeeew." The woman pinched her nostrils and gagged. "Your breath is rancid. You need a mouthwash."
His head sprang back, growls rolling in his throat.
Yawning, she sat up. "Oh, Hezera. Not the serpent again. Can't you do the dragon? The dragon's a lot scarier."
Arms thick with muscles burst from his sides. The head chiseled into a human countenance. Curved horns erupted from temples.
"Oh," she said. "You're going for a more conventional look. But you forgot your pitchfork."
Hezera splayed his fingers. "These are better," he said, his voice deep and grating. Nails stretched into talons reflecting the scarlet rage of his eyes.
She folded her arms. "Well, now you need both a mouthwash and a manicure."
Roaring, he slashed her face, but the talons swiped as clean as sunlight beaming through glass, leaving her unscathed.
She inspected her own nails. "Know what? I need a manicure too."
Jaw and fist muscles clenched. A powerful bellow whooshed her hair back.
She yawned again. "You finished?"
"Someday I will find a way to hurt you."
"Promises, promises. Look, I'm very sleepy, and I don't feel like playing." She called, "Abriel!"
"No!" Hezera muzzled her with both hands. "Shut up!"
Glaring radiances blasted the room, scoured through him like fire. Howling, he plunged through the floor and burrowed fathoms deep into soothing darkness.
***
The light dimmed, bathing her in a warm luminescence.
Eyes squeezed shut. Soreness tinged her throat.
"Please," she blubbered. "Abriel, please. Can't you make him stop?"
Abriel's voice hummed inside her head. All soldiers train for war. Little skirmishes prepare you. But you should cease your snide comments, for they are dangerous. Not only will they not defeat this enemy, they only serve to antagonize him further.
She tugged the blanket over her knees. "I can't seem to help myself. I have to deal with his attacks somehow, don't I? Besides, I didn't ask to be a soldier."
You want evil to win?
Her shoulders slumped. "No. But why me? Why not someone else?"
The light dissolved, leaving her question unanswered.
Arms huddled her legs. Outdoors, crickets chirped.
Alone, she stared, unblinking, at the darkness.


1

Friday, July 13

That's where she would die.
Frank unrolled a couple of more antacids, popped them into his mouth, and chewed without tasting. That was where his daughter Audrey would die, where she'd go out of existence, where she'd cease to be. Right there, dressed in a dull green hospital gown. It would be months before the bleeping of the heart monitor dropped to a steady whine, but it was coming. Nothing in the world could stop it.
He fluffed her pillow. "You comfortable?"
She hugged her doll, one he'd had custom made to look like her: denim blue eyes, bouncy blonde hair.
"Dolly wants to go home," Audrey said.
Frank sighed. "Dolly's sick."
"Dolly doesn't feel sick."
"Does her tummy hurt?"
"A little," Audrey admitted.
Frank raised his pinkie. "How many fingers does Dolly see?"
Audrey squinted. "Two. No, one. It's one."
"Well, see. She's still sick."
Audrey smoothed Dolly's pink dress. "Does she have to have more tests?"
"Maybe a few," Frank said. He crossed the room and gazed out the window.
Peaks of California Sierras dotted the skyline. Five stories below lay the tiny town of San Cyprian. He peered at it a moment. Suburban tract houses, strip malls. Middle class, USA.
His gaze wandered to the hospital's courtyard. Good. The surprise he ordered had arrived.
"Uh, Skipper, if you come over here, you might see something special."
A tomboy like Audrey needed no more encouragement to jump out of bed. She flung the covers off and padded over.
"Where?" she said.
Frank scooped her up so she could see. "Down there. See Mrs. Stempleton standing by that big tree? What's that she's holding?"
Audrey caught sight of her floppy-eared cocker spaniel. "Rags!" She tapped the pane. "Rags! Rags!"
"He can't hear you, Skipper."
"Oh. Right. He's deaf."
"And we're too high up for him to see you."
"Tell Mrs. Stempleton to bring him here."
"Sorry, Skipper, dogs aren't allowed in hospitals."
Her head hung. "Oh."
His throat tightened. She was losing everything. Her dog, her toys, her home, her life.
"What do you think about going outside to see him?" he said.
"Daddy! Could we?"
He lowered her to the floor. "Tell you what. Get your jeans and shirt back on, and we'll go downstairs."
"Yay!"
He fished his cell phone from a vest pocket and dialed. While rings breeped in his ear, he retrieved her clothes from the closet.
"Mrs. Stempleton?" he said when the line was picked up. "Stay right where you are. Audrey and I are coming down."
"Sir, are you sure it's all right?" she said over the line.
"I'd like to see somebody try to stop me," Frank said. He disconnected, stepped into the bathroom, and dragged a comb through his hair. A few strands of white streaking through the brown made him appear forty when he'd barely gotten used to being thirty. Worse were his brown eyes: hollow and empty. He adjusted a tie that was slightly askew and shrugged on a jacket over his vest.
"Ready?" he asked Audrey.
"Uh huh!"
They slipped out of the room. The bustle of visiting hours crowded the hallway. Cupping Audrey's hand, he wended a circuitous route to avoid the nurses' station. At the elevators, Frank punched the down button.
"Mr. Devore!"
He cringed. That was the problem with being famous. He couldn't blend in.
An elderly nurse in a stiff uniform stormed over. "Sir, Dr. Sentil insisted Miss Devore stay in her room."
He stared her in the eye. "I am taking my daughter downstairs to visit her dog."
"But sir, the doctor--"
"I could buy this hospital."
Brown eyes steeled with determination stared into hers. His billions had nothing to do with Audrey remaining in her room, but the mention of that much money had the desired effect. The nurse's eyelids fluttered, a corner of her mouth twitched.
"Of course, sir," she said.
"Come, Audrey."
He ushered his daughter inside the elevator and pressed the lobby button.
Doors eased shut, and the car hummed in descent.
"That was close," Audrey said.
Frank grinned at a four-year-old's ability to read him better than corporate executives. Maybe, he thought, maybe kids did see things more clearly than adults because the world hadn't indoctrinated them so much yet. He had to admit Audrey had a knack for common sense that he rarely saw in his own generation. On the ride down, he squeezed her tiny hand.
Doors parted, and Audrey bounded into the lobby.
"Whoa, Skipper, wait for me." Frank caught up with his daughter.
Automatic doors swished open, and they were outside, free.
"Where's Rags?" Audrey said.
Frank pointed. "Way over there."
Mrs. Stempleton, her gray hair up in a bun, stood beneath a large fir tree. She dropped Rags onto the ground and clutched his leash.
"Rags!" Audrey raced toward them. "Rags! Here, boy!"
The dog, deaf to Audrey's pleas, ignored her. He gazed in the opposite direction, leaping with excitement, and strained at his leash.
Audrey, dashing across the lawn, staggered a moment, then regained her balance. A lump rose in Frank's throat. Difficulty walking, the doctors had told him. Another symptom.
When Audrey was inches away, Rags tore the leash from Mrs. Stempleton's hand and bolted toward the street.
"Rags!" Audrey chased after him.
Frank broke into a run. "Audrey, stop!"
His daughter didn't hear or pretended not to. Arms pumping, she sprinted after her dog.
Rags darted for Crendall Avenue, the boulevard in front of Hope Hospital, and leapt into traffic. Brakes screeched, tires smoked. His leash whipping behind him, the dog raced across the center divider. He stopped in the far lane and squatted on the asphalt, tail flicking.
A deep horn blared. Frank glanced to his right, saw a dark red truck bearing down on Rags.
"Audrey!" he screamed. "Stop!"
She scurried across the width of sidewalk. Frank lunged, one hand grasping, and clutched the hem of her sleeve. Fabric ripped. His other hand grabbed her shirt collar. Audrey teetered on the curb before he yanked her to safety.
The horn bellowed again. Rags, deaf to its warning, sat transfixed, gazing at the opposite sidewalk.
Frank clenched his teeth, smothered Audrey's face in his stomach to block her view, and turned aside. Blurs of crimson flashed in his peripheral vision.
His ears boomed heartbeats. Frank glanced over a shoulder. The truck's rear end passed in agonizing slow motion.
The spot where Rags had been sitting was bare.
He blinked, glanced up, and heaved with relief. Rags was cradled in the arms of a redheaded woman.
"He's all right!" he told Audrey.
The woman called across the street, "Yours?"
Frank nodded. Carrying Rags, she strolled to a signalized crosswalk.
Mrs. Stempleton, huffing, arrived at the sidewalk. "Sir, I am so sorry."
"It's all right," Frank said. "Not your fault."
The redhead crossed the street. Audrey held out her arms. "Rags!"
The woman stepped onto the sidewalk. "I'll bet," she said to Audrey, "that this dog belongs to you."
"Uh huh."
"I thought so." She nestled Rags in the girl's arms. "I thought a dog like this must belong to someone pretty special."
"I can't begin to thank you," Frank said.
"Oh, it was nothing. I whistled and he came right to me."
Frank frowned. "Actually, he's deaf."
She stroked the spaniel. "He is? Maybe he reacted to seeing me." She laid a hand on the dog's forehead. Rags, squirming in Audrey's arms, grew so still Frank thought he had fallen asleep. But then he perked up and whimpered at the woman.
"I'm hungry," Audrey said. "Daddy, I'm hungry. I want lunch."
Frank snorted at her ability to shift emotional gears. Sure he had a strong grip on Rags' leash, he put the dog down and checked his watch.
"Well, it is lunchtime," he said. "Uh, Miss, uh . . . ."
"Monica."
"Monica. I've never been in San Cyprian before. Could you recommend a good restaurant?"
Her eyes twinkled. "You mean one with a big playground?"
"Yes! Daddy!" Audrey bobbed on her toes. "A playground!"
Frank's nose crimpled, but he said, "Is there a place like that around here?"
She pointed. "Jerrydee’s is two blocks away. The food's pretty good, if you like hamburgers, and," she winked at Audrey, "the playground is humongous."
"Yes! Mongous!" Audrey said. She stopped jumping. "Daddy, what's mongous mean?"
"It means very big."
"Yay!"
Frank handed the leash to Mrs. Stempleton. "Please take Rags to the hotel," he said. He whispered into her ear, "And order yourself something from room service. God knows what I'm getting."
Monica patted the dog. "Nice to meet you, Rags. Glad you're all right."
Mrs. Stempleton strolled away. Rags, straining at his leash, whined at Monica. Frank's eyebrows arched. Here they'd had him since he was a pup, and he was giving all his love to a stranger.
Frank said, "Well, Monica, thank you again for--"
Audrey blurted, "Will you have lunch with us?"
"Audrey!" Frank said.
Monica said, "Thank you, but I think your Daddy wants to have lunch with you alone."
"Please?" Audrey begged.
She softened. "How do you resist those big blue eyes?"
"I can't," Frank said. "I don't try to." He shifted his weight to one foot. "Besides, she's right. I should buy you lunch. It's the least I can do to thank you for saving Rags."
Although, he thought, maybe fast food was more a punishment than a reward. But it might be fun to have her along. Misery did love company.
She said, "Well . . . ."
"Pullease, Monica," Audrey said.
"Pullease, Monica," Frank echoed.
Lips pursed into a counterfeit pout. "I'm outvoted, aren't I?"
Audrey grinned and slipped a hand into hers.
***
The playground, as Monica promised, was huge. A dozen children, screeching and hollering, romped through plastic crawlways and coasted down three red slides. Audrey chomped just two bites of her kid burger and swallowed one fry before scampering off to try it out.
Frank sighed at a sloppy mess of burger, pickles, and catsup. Digesting it was going to take a lot of antacids. He nibbled a fry. It was tasteless. Food, lately, had no flavor.
He gazed across the outdoor table at Monica and wondered what her story was. When they'd entered Jerrydee’s, conversation had hushed. All except the youngest children scowled. He'd overheard whisperings: "What's she doing here?" "Isn't that Frank Devore?" "What's he doing with her?"
Monica had ignored the snub. She hadn't reacted either when customers at nearby tables had packed up and left.
Sunlight glinted off her auburn hair. He considered asking her about it but couldn't find the right words. By the way, Monica, why does everybody in town hate you?
Audrey waved at them from the top floor of the play structure. "Daddy! Monica! Look how high I am!"
He smiled and waved back. "You be careful."
Audrey disappeared inside.
Monica tossed crumbs from her hamburger bun to some finches and sparrows. Squabbling, they bickered over the scraps.
"Come now, there's enough for everybody," she said. She dropped three morsels onto her palm and extended it to them. "Let's see if any of you are brave enough to come get the prize."
"They won't go after that," Frank said.
But one did. A finch perched on a finger and stabbed at the bread. A blush of red on its breast told Frank it was a male.
He watched the little creature in awe. It must, he decided, have been ravenous to overcome its natural fear. Monica brought her other hand toward the bird and stroked its back.
"That's amazing," Frank said. "Do you have a special gift with animals?"
She said, "Actually, I've never done this before."
He expected the bird to flit away once the crumbs were devoured. Instead, it fluttered its wings and settled in the cup of her hand.
She brought it to her cheek. "I can feel its heartbeat."
Frank wished he had his camera. What a beautiful picture it made: the lovely young girl with the brave finch pressed against her face. He extended a finger to touch it, but the bird darted at his approach.
Audrey skipped up to him. "Daddy, Daddy, did you see me go down the slide?"
"Yes, I did, sweetheart," he lied.
"I'm going down again," she announced. "I'm going down lots of times."
She climbed through a crawlway.
"She's so cute," Monica said.
"Yes, she is."
"Where's her mother?"
Frank blinked. Obviously Monica didn't recognize him or she would know the story. "She doesn't have one," he said. "I mean, of course she has a mother, biologically speaking. I wanted a child, just one, but I wanted to be free, not bound by all the baggage that comes with marriage, so I paid a surrogate to take an artificial insemination."
Across the table Monica stared wide-eyed as if he'd ordered Audrey from a catalog or purchased her from a television shopping channel.
"I thought it was rather progressive of me," Frank said, wondering why he thought it necessary to justify his actions, especially to someone he had just met. "Besides, I'm giving her everything I can."
Monica bowed her head and mumbled words apparently intended too soft for him to hear. "Everything except a mother. Everything except siblings."
Watching Audrey coast down a slide, he had to admit this was a point he hadn't considered, not that it would matter soon.
Monica raised her head. "How is she sick?"
Frank stiffened. "What makes you think she's sick?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. But you're not local, so I figure you're probably here for the hospital. Judging by your expression when you look at her . . . ."
Frank swirled the ice in his cola. "Audrey has a tumor in her brain stem," he said. "Something called glioma. The doctors couldn't do a biopsy without killing her. We hoped it was benign, but now it's metastasized. They think the cancer will spread to her hypothalamus. Sooner or later . . . ."
"It's a very good hospital."
"I know. That's why we flew in yesterday. Dr. Sentil put her through a battery of tests this morning." He gulped some cola and swallowed. "We're supposed to get the test results this afternoon, but I just know it'll be the same story here that it's been everywhere else."
"Does she know?" Monica asked.
"No. Oh, no. Please don't tell her."
Her eyes reflected his pain. "I won't."
Frank checked his watch. "We should be going. Skipper!" he called. "Put your shoes back on." He said to Monica, "Thank you again for saving her dog. And for suggesting this place for her to play. She's all I have left in the world."
"Maybe things will work out." Monica rose and cleared trash from the table.
"Maybe." Frank gazed at Audrey fastening the velcro on her Winnie the Pooh shoes. "Um, Monica? I know this is a lot to ask, but Audrey's taken a shine to you, and we don't know anybody around here. Do you think you could visit her in the hospital? I know she'd love to see you."
Monica glanced up. "I'd be happy to. Uh, I don't know her last name."
"It's Devore," Frank said, and spelled it. "I'm Frank Devore."
If Monica recognized the name, she made no indication.
Audrey trotted up, out of breath. "Do we have to go, Daddy?"
"I'm afraid so," Frank said. He held the playground door open for them, then walked out himself. The door banged shut. They strolled down a walkway that led to the street.
Monica stopped. "Audrey, I have something for you."
She grinned. "What?"
Monica knelt before her and laid the heel of her hand on the girl's forehead. Audrey gasped, her eyes widening, arms trembling.
Frank cried, "What are you doing?"
The trembling amplified into convulsions. Drool gurgled from the child's mouth, trickled down her chin.
"Stop it!" Frank screamed. He tried to wrest Monica's palm off, but it wouldn't let go, as though they were glued together. "Stop it!"
Monica yanked her hand away.
Frank hugged arms around his child. "What the hell did you do?"
"It's all right," Monica said. "She's all right now."
Within his embrace Audrey shivered. A surge of fury welled in him. How dare she do something like this to a dying child. He let go of her and focused his wrath on Monica.
"You crazy bitch!" A hand-stinging slap backhanded her across the face.
The blow knocked her off the curb, onto the asphalt.
He scooped up Audrey and ran. Ran, knocking pedestrians aside. Ran across busy intersections, horns blaring at him.
Ran, desperate for the hospital and the emergency room.

Order Now!

<< Go Back