The continuing saga of NaNoWriMo!
Before they could reach the field, the blob--whatever the hell it was--was visible above the trees lining the field. Harold stopped and pulled his hat off his head so he could rub his short hair with one thick hand.
“I thought you said this thing was maybe five feet high, Randy.” He turned his head and craned his neck to regard his son, his brows settling comfortably into the deep creases that lined his face.
“That’s what Camie said, yeah,” he responded, glancing at him with a puzzled look. Harold simply jerked his chin to indicate the treetops and Randolph followed the direction with his gaze. It took a moment for it to sink in, but then the shock was clear enough on his face, even though he could only see half of it. “What the hell is that thing?” There was wonder and fear both mixed into that question, and Harold had to admit he was feeling about the same.
Tugging his hat back over his thinning, greying hair, he squared his shoulders and started back down the trail. “Let’s go find out.”
Behind him he heard Randy start back up, and that was how they reached the verge of the field, son following along after father. Harold stopped at the fence and eased a slow whistle through his lips. Randy stopped beside him and pulled his hat off his head, curling the brim between his hands. Neither spoke, simply stared at the blob dominating the open area.
The old oak Camilla said the thing was behind would be about in the middle of it, now, and it would take about three of them to reach the bulging top. The nearest edge was about seventy yards from them, but that was still half the distance to where the tree had been. It was an intimidating mass, and the longer Harold watched it, the more frightened he became.
“Is it getting bigger?”
Randy’s voice pulled him out of his detached study of the thing and he turned his eyes on his son. His boy was looking at him, a queasy expression on his face, and once he saw he had his attention, Randy pointed vaguely towards the field.
“If you pick a spot behind it and keep an eye on it, it starts blocking it out, see? Like that old elm in the back?” He fell silent and they both watched the tree. As the seconds turned into minutes it was clear that the black edge was distinctly closer than it had been.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, transfixed by the slow, steady advance.
“How big do you think it is now?” Randy’s tone was distracted, like this was a bit of trivia he didn’t care to know the answer to. Regardless, Harold couldn’t stop himself and he easily estimated the distances, years spent tending acre upon acre coming to bear.
“It’s probably covering about five acres now…” Five feet to five acres in twenty-four hours. While it wasn’t fast as far as traveling went, it was lightning quick when you considered something growing like that.
Randy started swearing under his breath and he was inclined to join him, though he didn’t allow himself to.
“What the fuck is it, Dad? What can do something like that?” He kept staring at the blob but Harold had to look away, couldn’t look at it and think about what it had done to his daughter.
The silence stretched and finally Randy pushed away from the fence and turned his back on the field, kicking viciously at a branch in his way. Harold gave it one last long look and turned away from the spectacle as well, pushing his hands deep inside his pockets as he caught up with his son.
“Do you think it’ll stop?” Harold didn’t lift his eyes from the path back to the house, but he was sure Randy knew what he was talking about.
“Camie doesn’t think so. She’s sure it’ll swallow up the world. That’s what she said, even, ‘swallow up’. I don’t understand what it did to her, Dad. It scares me.”
“I know.” He wanted to admit it scared him, too, but that wasn’t what his son needed to hear now. The silence returned and they walked on, occasional leaves crunching under foot as a fitful breeze clattered bare branches against each other.
“What’re you gonna do, Dad?”
“I think I’ll take a shot at stopping it.” What else was there to do? He’d invested nearly his entire life in his property. It wasn’t what it used to be, but it was his and it was all he and Ellen had. You couldn’t live like you were about to die, after all. They couldn’t just pick up and run away from the unknown.
“Camie wants us to leave. Her and me, that is. She didn’t say anything about you or Mom.”
Harold could hear the guilt in Randy’s voice. It was faint but it was there. Already he was feeling responsible for his twin again. He’d always done it, especially as a child. Harold supposed he’d never really stopped, either, despite everything.
“You two should go. Your mother and I should get on just fine. The place doesn’t take all that much work anymore, anyways.” He looked up in time to catch a haunted look from Randy. Guilt and responsibility. He didn’t know who to put first, and even after told what to do, he was still reluctant. Harold had seen it all too often from his boy. Holding back a sigh he tried to offer some small bit of consolation. “I’ll tell your mother, don’t worry about it. She’s going to be upset no matter what happens.” He reached out and clapped Randolph on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’s got lunch ready for us by now. She might even have eaten without us by the time we get back.” He tried out a laugh on his son and it echoed hollowly even to his ear. Randy only grunted in response and they finished their walk in silence.
Camilla
They had left that evening, after dinner. Dad had offered the excuse that Randy was bringing her to the airport. She could tell Mom had questions and protests, could tell she didn’t believe it was as simple as that, but she let it go. It was Dad speaking, after all, and she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere by arguing.
That was how it had always been; no one went against Dad’s plans. Before he’d decided you could argue and rail and persuade all you wanted, but once he’d made up his mind, you’d best abide by it. He had a way of making a person feel like they’d suggesting flying in the face of good sense when they tried to argue with his logic. Really, people usually were when they did, but sometimes it was hard to see. They’d all learned in time, but Camie had been too stubborn to simply let things be all the time. She’d almost done things just to spite him, knowingly getting herself bad grades, easily avoidable injuries and stubbornly continuing doing things that eventually resulted in something getting broken.
She knew those habits had driven Randy to distraction but she couldn’t help herself. Dad had always taken them with quiet patience, understanding her better than she’d ever care to know at that age. It was a good thing her father had a mild temper or she’d have gotten countless beatings for her willfulness. It was only now that she could accept the wisdom he held and not feel restricted, confined by it. It didn’t hurt that he actually agreed with what she felt she needed to do, this time, but that was beside the point.
With a sigh she pulled her attention away from the scenery slowly scrolling by the truck window. The family property was nearly thirty miles outside what passed as the nearest town. Occasionally they’d pass sections on the highway where houses had grouped together along the road, creating communities of perhaps ten families or fewer. Most of the time the majority of them were related. People just couldn’t escape family, it seemed, and here it was more literal than other places.
Randy spared a glance at her, his face tight and strain visible around his eyes, then returned his focus to the road.
“Dad wanted us to leave, you know that.” She knew the whole situation was bothering him, but she couldn’t do anything about most of it. If she could make him feel better about leaving Mom and Dad behind, though, that would be step.
“What about Mom? What if she didn’t want to stay?” He turned a glare on her, his steady anger towards her over the years not so easily overcome as she’d hoped.
“Dad’ll take care of her. He always does. He won’t make her stay if it’s not safe.” She didn’t always like her father’s decisions, but she couldn’t say that he’d ever done anything bad to any of them. He was remarkably considerate of everyone’s feelings, but considerate didn’t mean he’d lay down and let them do whatever they felt like, either.
“It’s not safe! You saw that thing, it took your fingers. It did something to you, Camie. You know it, I know it, they know it. Something bad is going to happen to them.”
Randy clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel, flexing his fingers in time with the pulse of his anger.
“They couldn’t get away anyways.” Her voice was soft but her words snapped his eyes back to her. She simply sat there with her head bowed and hands folded in her lap, the left covering the fingers missing on the right.
“What the hell are you talking about? They could have left with us and been just fine.”
Camilla shook her head faintly, her hair tickling the skin on her arms. “They wouldn’t leave. Even if they did, the shadow would still find them.”
Randy gave her a spooked look before slowing the truck and pulling over to the shoulder. It was a stretch between houses, maybe two miles long, with cedar swamps on either side of the road. He took the truck out of gear and twisted in his seat to look at her dead on.
“How do you know that? How can you know that? Christ, Camie, I’m just going to go back and make them come with us. Maybe Dad can talk sense into you.”
Leave it to Randy to make things harder than they had to be. She gave an irritated sigh and lifted her head to regard him with her flat, black eyes. She was mildly gratified to see him flinch from her gaze, but it didn’t accomplish want she wanted.
“Dad knew what he was doing. He doesn’t want to abandon everything he’s put his life into because he’s scared. Give him more credit than that.”
She felt like she was telling him things he should know already, but she attributed it to his nature. He was the good son, he did what was right, but he couldn’t reconcile what was right with what he needed to do now. She’d known that about him for years, and as he failed to see that about himself it had made her resent him. She could see that now, could understand why she’d cultivated the distance between them. Of course it didn’t make any difference now if she saw it or not. It was too late for those things.
“What do you mean ‘was’? You talk like he’s dead.” If that wasn’t an accusation, she’d never heard one from her twin before.
Camilla shrugged once, slowly, and regarded him from the corner of her eye. “Now, later, it doesn’t matter. The shadow will have him in under a week.”
Randy stared at her, the color draining from his tanned face, then he slammed the truck into gear and spun the tires in the gravel in his hurry to get back on the road. At least he didn’t turn around. Thank God for small mercies.
“I thought you said this thing was maybe five feet high, Randy.” He turned his head and craned his neck to regard his son, his brows settling comfortably into the deep creases that lined his face.
“That’s what Camie said, yeah,” he responded, glancing at him with a puzzled look. Harold simply jerked his chin to indicate the treetops and Randolph followed the direction with his gaze. It took a moment for it to sink in, but then the shock was clear enough on his face, even though he could only see half of it. “What the hell is that thing?” There was wonder and fear both mixed into that question, and Harold had to admit he was feeling about the same.
Tugging his hat back over his thinning, greying hair, he squared his shoulders and started back down the trail. “Let’s go find out.”
Behind him he heard Randy start back up, and that was how they reached the verge of the field, son following along after father. Harold stopped at the fence and eased a slow whistle through his lips. Randy stopped beside him and pulled his hat off his head, curling the brim between his hands. Neither spoke, simply stared at the blob dominating the open area.
The old oak Camilla said the thing was behind would be about in the middle of it, now, and it would take about three of them to reach the bulging top. The nearest edge was about seventy yards from them, but that was still half the distance to where the tree had been. It was an intimidating mass, and the longer Harold watched it, the more frightened he became.
“Is it getting bigger?”
Randy’s voice pulled him out of his detached study of the thing and he turned his eyes on his son. His boy was looking at him, a queasy expression on his face, and once he saw he had his attention, Randy pointed vaguely towards the field.
“If you pick a spot behind it and keep an eye on it, it starts blocking it out, see? Like that old elm in the back?” He fell silent and they both watched the tree. As the seconds turned into minutes it was clear that the black edge was distinctly closer than it had been.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, transfixed by the slow, steady advance.
“How big do you think it is now?” Randy’s tone was distracted, like this was a bit of trivia he didn’t care to know the answer to. Regardless, Harold couldn’t stop himself and he easily estimated the distances, years spent tending acre upon acre coming to bear.
“It’s probably covering about five acres now…” Five feet to five acres in twenty-four hours. While it wasn’t fast as far as traveling went, it was lightning quick when you considered something growing like that.
Randy started swearing under his breath and he was inclined to join him, though he didn’t allow himself to.
“What the fuck is it, Dad? What can do something like that?” He kept staring at the blob but Harold had to look away, couldn’t look at it and think about what it had done to his daughter.
The silence stretched and finally Randy pushed away from the fence and turned his back on the field, kicking viciously at a branch in his way. Harold gave it one last long look and turned away from the spectacle as well, pushing his hands deep inside his pockets as he caught up with his son.
“Do you think it’ll stop?” Harold didn’t lift his eyes from the path back to the house, but he was sure Randy knew what he was talking about.
“Camie doesn’t think so. She’s sure it’ll swallow up the world. That’s what she said, even, ‘swallow up’. I don’t understand what it did to her, Dad. It scares me.”
“I know.” He wanted to admit it scared him, too, but that wasn’t what his son needed to hear now. The silence returned and they walked on, occasional leaves crunching under foot as a fitful breeze clattered bare branches against each other.
“What’re you gonna do, Dad?”
“I think I’ll take a shot at stopping it.” What else was there to do? He’d invested nearly his entire life in his property. It wasn’t what it used to be, but it was his and it was all he and Ellen had. You couldn’t live like you were about to die, after all. They couldn’t just pick up and run away from the unknown.
“Camie wants us to leave. Her and me, that is. She didn’t say anything about you or Mom.”
Harold could hear the guilt in Randy’s voice. It was faint but it was there. Already he was feeling responsible for his twin again. He’d always done it, especially as a child. Harold supposed he’d never really stopped, either, despite everything.
“You two should go. Your mother and I should get on just fine. The place doesn’t take all that much work anymore, anyways.” He looked up in time to catch a haunted look from Randy. Guilt and responsibility. He didn’t know who to put first, and even after told what to do, he was still reluctant. Harold had seen it all too often from his boy. Holding back a sigh he tried to offer some small bit of consolation. “I’ll tell your mother, don’t worry about it. She’s going to be upset no matter what happens.” He reached out and clapped Randolph on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’s got lunch ready for us by now. She might even have eaten without us by the time we get back.” He tried out a laugh on his son and it echoed hollowly even to his ear. Randy only grunted in response and they finished their walk in silence.
Camilla
They had left that evening, after dinner. Dad had offered the excuse that Randy was bringing her to the airport. She could tell Mom had questions and protests, could tell she didn’t believe it was as simple as that, but she let it go. It was Dad speaking, after all, and she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere by arguing.
That was how it had always been; no one went against Dad’s plans. Before he’d decided you could argue and rail and persuade all you wanted, but once he’d made up his mind, you’d best abide by it. He had a way of making a person feel like they’d suggesting flying in the face of good sense when they tried to argue with his logic. Really, people usually were when they did, but sometimes it was hard to see. They’d all learned in time, but Camie had been too stubborn to simply let things be all the time. She’d almost done things just to spite him, knowingly getting herself bad grades, easily avoidable injuries and stubbornly continuing doing things that eventually resulted in something getting broken.
She knew those habits had driven Randy to distraction but she couldn’t help herself. Dad had always taken them with quiet patience, understanding her better than she’d ever care to know at that age. It was a good thing her father had a mild temper or she’d have gotten countless beatings for her willfulness. It was only now that she could accept the wisdom he held and not feel restricted, confined by it. It didn’t hurt that he actually agreed with what she felt she needed to do, this time, but that was beside the point.
With a sigh she pulled her attention away from the scenery slowly scrolling by the truck window. The family property was nearly thirty miles outside what passed as the nearest town. Occasionally they’d pass sections on the highway where houses had grouped together along the road, creating communities of perhaps ten families or fewer. Most of the time the majority of them were related. People just couldn’t escape family, it seemed, and here it was more literal than other places.
Randy spared a glance at her, his face tight and strain visible around his eyes, then returned his focus to the road.
“Dad wanted us to leave, you know that.” She knew the whole situation was bothering him, but she couldn’t do anything about most of it. If she could make him feel better about leaving Mom and Dad behind, though, that would be step.
“What about Mom? What if she didn’t want to stay?” He turned a glare on her, his steady anger towards her over the years not so easily overcome as she’d hoped.
“Dad’ll take care of her. He always does. He won’t make her stay if it’s not safe.” She didn’t always like her father’s decisions, but she couldn’t say that he’d ever done anything bad to any of them. He was remarkably considerate of everyone’s feelings, but considerate didn’t mean he’d lay down and let them do whatever they felt like, either.
“It’s not safe! You saw that thing, it took your fingers. It did something to you, Camie. You know it, I know it, they know it. Something bad is going to happen to them.”
Randy clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel, flexing his fingers in time with the pulse of his anger.
“They couldn’t get away anyways.” Her voice was soft but her words snapped his eyes back to her. She simply sat there with her head bowed and hands folded in her lap, the left covering the fingers missing on the right.
“What the hell are you talking about? They could have left with us and been just fine.”
Camilla shook her head faintly, her hair tickling the skin on her arms. “They wouldn’t leave. Even if they did, the shadow would still find them.”
Randy gave her a spooked look before slowing the truck and pulling over to the shoulder. It was a stretch between houses, maybe two miles long, with cedar swamps on either side of the road. He took the truck out of gear and twisted in his seat to look at her dead on.
“How do you know that? How can you know that? Christ, Camie, I’m just going to go back and make them come with us. Maybe Dad can talk sense into you.”
Leave it to Randy to make things harder than they had to be. She gave an irritated sigh and lifted her head to regard him with her flat, black eyes. She was mildly gratified to see him flinch from her gaze, but it didn’t accomplish want she wanted.
“Dad knew what he was doing. He doesn’t want to abandon everything he’s put his life into because he’s scared. Give him more credit than that.”
She felt like she was telling him things he should know already, but she attributed it to his nature. He was the good son, he did what was right, but he couldn’t reconcile what was right with what he needed to do now. She’d known that about him for years, and as he failed to see that about himself it had made her resent him. She could see that now, could understand why she’d cultivated the distance between them. Of course it didn’t make any difference now if she saw it or not. It was too late for those things.
“What do you mean ‘was’? You talk like he’s dead.” If that wasn’t an accusation, she’d never heard one from her twin before.
Camilla shrugged once, slowly, and regarded him from the corner of her eye. “Now, later, it doesn’t matter. The shadow will have him in under a week.”
Randy stared at her, the color draining from his tanned face, then he slammed the truck into gear and spun the tires in the gravel in his hurry to get back on the road. At least he didn’t turn around. Thank God for small mercies.