nanowrimo Day 17
Still behind but I'm getting there.
Helena had no idea how long they had been walking. She was cold and miserable and had cried until her eyes felt raw. All her aches and pains flared in and out of intensity as she went along. Her steps were stumbling, shuffling things and she tripped often. If there had been anyone to see her, they would think she was the animated corpse and the Not-Catelyn was the normal little girl.
Like a zombie following her, Helena thought dazedly. Following her where? She had lost track of which direction they were going. She had no idea which way the car was. Her feet kept getting tangled in the tree roots and underbrush. What would happen if she fell? Would she be able to get back up again? Would she just lay there until coyotes found her? Not-Catelyn wouldn’t stop for her. She’d be alone if she stopped, so she kept going.
They went up hills and down. Other times they saw roads and distant lights. Once Helena thought she heard a train whistle. Eventually, the sun went down and they walked on in darkness. Helena had to follow the sounds of feet in the dry leaves when she couldn’t see Not-Catelyn anymore. She got more and more cold as they went higher,more so when they got wet crossing ta creek. It wasn’t deep, barely to their knees, but as bitterly cold as only a mountain spring could be. After that, Helena’s teeth chattered and her trembling became full-on shivering.
By morning, she was nigh delirious and talking to Catelyn like she was still alive. Not-Catelyn hadn’t spoken to her since they started, but now she stopped and Helena walked into her. It sent a stab pain through Helena’s head and forced her to refocus. It was morning again, bright and golden as if the day before had never happened. Sunlight flickered through the treetops and played along the bleached curves of many, many bones. They were everywhere, hung from the tree branches and piled around the ground. Everywhere you looked there were empty ribcages and emptier eye sockets.
Animals, Helena hoped. Too small to be human. Maybe a few deer here and there. But no, that was a human skull over there and over there too. She hoped that if she died here, she wouldn’t be hung from a tree. She leaned into not-Catelyn’s back, grateful for warmth.
“I know you’re here,” Not-Catelyn as if Helena wasn’t there. “I felt you miles away.”
“I felt you too, little one,” a new voice said. It felt like it came from all around, under their feet and over their heads and out of all the bared teeth in the skulls around them. It felt like greasy fog in Helena’s ears. “Why have you come to my place?”
“I’ve been called,” Not-Catelyn said. “I mean to answer. My children stir. They will be mine again.”
“And this child, is this one yours too?” There was a mocking edge to that question. Helena had a terrified thought that if Not-Catelyn said no, she would be up for grabs. The invisible speaker might take her and then her bones really would be added to the piles.
“Yes.” Not-Catelyn said without hesitation. Helena felt a ridiculous relief that made her legs weak, or it could be that she was about to faint.
Black mist spun around her. It felt like the wings of countless moths, brushing over her. She was surrounded by it and then it solidified into the form of a greasy man in black, dirty clothes. He looked homeless and smelled like a tire fire. He was scraggly and dirty and his eyes glittered black. He wasn’t big but he looked strong. He lifted Helena’s chin with his fingers and she saw that the glitter in his eyes was from the tiny pupils all clustered together to look like one.
“You’re careless with what’s yours,” he said, but not to her. “This one won’t last long.” Helena didn’t like him touching her. The tiny spot where his finger was against her chin felt dirty. Her legs still felt rubbery and her head was beginning to swim.
“I can’t pass out,” she said out loud, more to herself than him, whoever he was. “I can’t be left.”
“Don’t worry,” the stranger whispered. His breath held a hint of decay. Had he eaten all the creatures that belonged to the bones? “I know how to take care of a child.” His lips touched her cheek where the blood had long since dried and something about it was so truly repellent that as weak as she was, Helena sobbed and flinched back. He had an arm around her waist, so she didn’t get far.
The last thing she was aware of before the dark moved in was him lifting her off the ground and setting her against his stale and filthy jacket shoulder. She did faint then, and when she woke up she was back in a back seat. It wasn’t her car. The plastic seat cover was cracked and old under her cheek. She could hear Not-Catelyn and the man in black talk in the front seat.
“-a good idea to take a body that’s empty,” he was saying. “Don’t have to struggle to control it.”
“Harder to exorcise too,” Not-Catelyn sounded pleased with herself and her voice was different than Helena remembered. Maybe that was the thing she was host to, beginning to assert its dominance over the empty shell. Maybe it had just stopped pretending now that there were no parents to pretend for. Helena sat up.
She felt dizzy and was still sore, but sleep had helped. There was packaged snack cake on the seat next to her and a very old juice box. The greasy man made eye contact with her in the rear view mirror.
“That’s for you,” he said. His hands weren’t on the steering wheel. The car looked as old and battered as the juice box.
“Thank you,” Helena said. Not-Catelyn gave her a look. Not-Catelyn had never thanked her for anything. The snack cake could’ve been every bit as old as the rest and Helena wouldn’t have cared. She gobbled it down and drank the juice, doing her best not to imagine what she might be slurping up through the opaque straw. It wasn’t much, but it was something and she did feel a little better.
“What’s your name?” she asked after a long silence to let her courage build with her strength. Not-Catelyn glared again adding a warning hiss.
“Bazmius,” the greasy man said. This time, Not-Catelyn hissed at him. “Mius for short. Summon at your own risk, little lamb.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Helena said.
“Good,” Mius said. He crinkled his eyes at her in the mirror, but it wasn’t a smile. “Go back to sleep now.” Helena didn’t have time to even think about it before she was sinking back on the seat and unconscious.
Helena had no idea how long they had been walking. She was cold and miserable and had cried until her eyes felt raw. All her aches and pains flared in and out of intensity as she went along. Her steps were stumbling, shuffling things and she tripped often. If there had been anyone to see her, they would think she was the animated corpse and the Not-Catelyn was the normal little girl.
Like a zombie following her, Helena thought dazedly. Following her where? She had lost track of which direction they were going. She had no idea which way the car was. Her feet kept getting tangled in the tree roots and underbrush. What would happen if she fell? Would she be able to get back up again? Would she just lay there until coyotes found her? Not-Catelyn wouldn’t stop for her. She’d be alone if she stopped, so she kept going.
They went up hills and down. Other times they saw roads and distant lights. Once Helena thought she heard a train whistle. Eventually, the sun went down and they walked on in darkness. Helena had to follow the sounds of feet in the dry leaves when she couldn’t see Not-Catelyn anymore. She got more and more cold as they went higher,more so when they got wet crossing ta creek. It wasn’t deep, barely to their knees, but as bitterly cold as only a mountain spring could be. After that, Helena’s teeth chattered and her trembling became full-on shivering.
By morning, she was nigh delirious and talking to Catelyn like she was still alive. Not-Catelyn hadn’t spoken to her since they started, but now she stopped and Helena walked into her. It sent a stab pain through Helena’s head and forced her to refocus. It was morning again, bright and golden as if the day before had never happened. Sunlight flickered through the treetops and played along the bleached curves of many, many bones. They were everywhere, hung from the tree branches and piled around the ground. Everywhere you looked there were empty ribcages and emptier eye sockets.
Animals, Helena hoped. Too small to be human. Maybe a few deer here and there. But no, that was a human skull over there and over there too. She hoped that if she died here, she wouldn’t be hung from a tree. She leaned into not-Catelyn’s back, grateful for warmth.
“I know you’re here,” Not-Catelyn as if Helena wasn’t there. “I felt you miles away.”
“I felt you too, little one,” a new voice said. It felt like it came from all around, under their feet and over their heads and out of all the bared teeth in the skulls around them. It felt like greasy fog in Helena’s ears. “Why have you come to my place?”
“I’ve been called,” Not-Catelyn said. “I mean to answer. My children stir. They will be mine again.”
“And this child, is this one yours too?” There was a mocking edge to that question. Helena had a terrified thought that if Not-Catelyn said no, she would be up for grabs. The invisible speaker might take her and then her bones really would be added to the piles.
“Yes.” Not-Catelyn said without hesitation. Helena felt a ridiculous relief that made her legs weak, or it could be that she was about to faint.
Black mist spun around her. It felt like the wings of countless moths, brushing over her. She was surrounded by it and then it solidified into the form of a greasy man in black, dirty clothes. He looked homeless and smelled like a tire fire. He was scraggly and dirty and his eyes glittered black. He wasn’t big but he looked strong. He lifted Helena’s chin with his fingers and she saw that the glitter in his eyes was from the tiny pupils all clustered together to look like one.
“You’re careless with what’s yours,” he said, but not to her. “This one won’t last long.” Helena didn’t like him touching her. The tiny spot where his finger was against her chin felt dirty. Her legs still felt rubbery and her head was beginning to swim.
“I can’t pass out,” she said out loud, more to herself than him, whoever he was. “I can’t be left.”
“Don’t worry,” the stranger whispered. His breath held a hint of decay. Had he eaten all the creatures that belonged to the bones? “I know how to take care of a child.” His lips touched her cheek where the blood had long since dried and something about it was so truly repellent that as weak as she was, Helena sobbed and flinched back. He had an arm around her waist, so she didn’t get far.
The last thing she was aware of before the dark moved in was him lifting her off the ground and setting her against his stale and filthy jacket shoulder. She did faint then, and when she woke up she was back in a back seat. It wasn’t her car. The plastic seat cover was cracked and old under her cheek. She could hear Not-Catelyn and the man in black talk in the front seat.
“-a good idea to take a body that’s empty,” he was saying. “Don’t have to struggle to control it.”
“Harder to exorcise too,” Not-Catelyn sounded pleased with herself and her voice was different than Helena remembered. Maybe that was the thing she was host to, beginning to assert its dominance over the empty shell. Maybe it had just stopped pretending now that there were no parents to pretend for. Helena sat up.
She felt dizzy and was still sore, but sleep had helped. There was packaged snack cake on the seat next to her and a very old juice box. The greasy man made eye contact with her in the rear view mirror.
“That’s for you,” he said. His hands weren’t on the steering wheel. The car looked as old and battered as the juice box.
“Thank you,” Helena said. Not-Catelyn gave her a look. Not-Catelyn had never thanked her for anything. The snack cake could’ve been every bit as old as the rest and Helena wouldn’t have cared. She gobbled it down and drank the juice, doing her best not to imagine what she might be slurping up through the opaque straw. It wasn’t much, but it was something and she did feel a little better.
“What’s your name?” she asked after a long silence to let her courage build with her strength. Not-Catelyn glared again adding a warning hiss.
“Bazmius,” the greasy man said. This time, Not-Catelyn hissed at him. “Mius for short. Summon at your own risk, little lamb.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Helena said.
“Good,” Mius said. He crinkled his eyes at her in the mirror, but it wasn’t a smile. “Go back to sleep now.” Helena didn’t have time to even think about it before she was sinking back on the seat and unconscious.