It’s Your Turn
“It’s your turn.”
Emma opened her eyes and looked at the makeshift chess pieces on the table. Those shreds of paper with penned Ps for pawns and so on, the same pieces she’d leaned over and pushed around the hand-drawn board since breakfast.
“I’m done,” she said. “Beyond done. I’m going to have dreams about paper chess tonight, you know. And about this snow. It’ll be snowing paper chess pieces in my dreams.”
“Tell me about it,” said Cass, leaning back in her chair.
Emma stood, her own chair scraping against the hardwood floor. She stretched and walked over to the nearest window. The snow that had whipped and whistled through the trees and chimneys all morning now fell silently in steady, thick flakes. The wooden deck outside blended with the lawn beyond in a seamless white blanket. Through the steady snowfall, on the far side of the inn’s property, endless rows of firs and pines rose like frosted green teeth. The falling flakes and gently waving trees hypnotized her, holding her in a pleasant trance. “It is lovely though,” she said.
“Yeah, a real winter wonderland out there. They better have the roads cleared in the morning. No way I’m missing the slopes tomorrow.” Cass polished off her glass of wine and surveyed the room. “Can you tell me how we managed to find the only inn in Vermont without any fucking men? I mean, where are all the lumberjacks and rugged woodsmen? Christ, I’d settle for one of those sandal-wearing nature boys at this point.”
“They all heard you were coming and ran for the hills,” said a voice from a nearby chair.
Cass laughed. “Doris, you are a bitch.”
“Takes one to know one,” said Door. She sat low in the high-backed chair, engrossed in a thick book and soaking up warmth from the crackling fire.
For a while the room was silent, save for the occasional popping and hissing from the green wood in the fire. Their voices sounded hollow in the large, empty sitting room, and perhaps because of that, they were each hesitant to speak again.
Emma finally turned from the window and broke the silence. “We’re the only ones here.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” said Cass, pouring herself another glass.
Emma looked over to the empty reception desk, then up to the balcony above. “No, I mean, we’re the only ones. Haven’t you noticed? The owner left hours ago, and there aren’t any other staff in a place this small.”
“And?” said Cass.
“And she’s worried because it doesn’t take four hours to get more firewood, which is what the owner said he was going to do,” said Door, still not looking up from her book.
Emma nodded, feeling more worried after hearing Door’s confirmation. “It’ll be dark soon,” she said.
Cass sighed and stood. “You worry too much. I’m taking a nap.”
Door finally looked away from her book, watching Cass stumble her way up the spiral staircase to the balcony hall above. Emma turned back to the window. The fire burned on, casting deeper shadows, and outside the snow continued to fall.
* * *
Great congested diesel coughs sputtered from the pipes as the plough truck roared to life. Jake climbed into the cab, stowed his thermos behind the seat, and tucked the bottle between his legs.
“C’mon, darlin. Roads aint gettin any better.”
He pulled the door shut and grinded the old girl into first. Letting off the clutch, he rocked and bounced with the dips and bumps of his gravel driveway, then pulled out onto Highway 12. After lowering the plough and turning on the wipers, Jake leaned forward and wiped the fog from the windshield with his sleeve.
“Goddamnit,” he whispered, cranking up the defroster. “Colder than a witch’s tit tonight, boy. On the dark side of the moon!” He giggled and took a swig from his bottle of Knob Creek. “Thas alright though, cause we got the good stuff tonight, baby.” He took another swallow and felt around beside him for his tapes. Finding what he was looking for, Jake popped in the tape and sat back in his seat. Def Leppard rose from the dash, and he gave his old girl a little weave into the oncoming lane and back. It was going to be a fine night.
The snow danced on the stage of his headlights, ever spinning and tumbling down and under. He made sure to look out the side windows from time to time, and further up the road as well—staring too long at the snow in front of him was likely to make him dizzy. He turned up the volume to drown out the scraping of his plough and took another pull on his bourbon. No traffic so far, but that was bound to change. There was always some fool out on a night like this.
The crash came so suddenly that Jake stood up in his seat and planted his head into the cab’s roof. One moment he was enjoying the rock of ages and the next he was being sprayed with glass and trying not to shit himself. He sat down hard and stomped on the brakes. Frosty air filled the cab, bringing with it something hot and sweet that made him think of rotten fruit. His head was spinning and now the truck was shuddering and slipping sideways.
“Aw Christ! C’mon, baby,” he pleaded, turning the wheels into the spin. The radio seemed unnaturally loud now—absurd. With a lurch and a final bang, the plough truck hit a snow drift and came to a stop.
For a moment, Jake was so happy to be in one piece that he forgot about what had started the whole fiasco. Then the hot, rancid smell returned and he looked over. Some kind of large animal carcass was wedged through his passenger window. Ribbons of flesh and splinters of bone and what looked like a cloven hoof, all decorated with glittering, shattered safety glass, sat in a bloody mess on his seat. Black, syrupy blood seeped into the upholstery, making Jake nauseous. He barely managed to open his door before he vomited. Streams of saliva dripped into the steaming snow after he finished, and he moaned and wiped his mouth numbly. He took some deep breaths and the cold air made him feel a bit better.
Jake set his bottle of bourbon down on the floor of the cab and climbed out into the shin-deep snow. His head was spinning, and he wasn’t really sure what to do. The speakers were still blaring, but he was too scared to reach back into his cab to turn them down. Too scared of what he might see. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.
“Alright, Jake, get yourself together.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeling a bit dizzy again. A heavy huffing sound startled him back into focus and he spun around. Was the damn thing still alive? How could that be? He had heard tales of deer running a mile or more after being fatally wounded, but the thing in his truck barely resembled anything whole, much less alive. As he got his bearings, he realized the sound wasn’t coming from inside the cab.
He tensed and his nostrils flared. The sound was labored breathing, and it was coming from down the road. Now there was something else—a padded, galloping sound. Something was coming towards him, running on four legs.
“To hell with this, man.” Jake leapt back into the cab and doused the radio. The sweet stench made him gag, but he wasn’t about to get mauled by a bloodthirsty bear tonight. The plough truck howled as he shoved into first gear and popped the clutch. It lurched and then stalled.
A quiet set in, punctuated by the tick-ticking of the now-cooling engine.
“Oh god oh god oh god,” Jake muttered, fumbling for the ignition. Why was he so nervous? It was probably just another deer, one of this poor bastard’s cousins. Maybe there was a herd of them out there, spooked by something and running wild. But something deep down told him that wasn’t so. He twisted the key and pumped the gas. “C’mon baby, come ON!”
His door opened and he was plucked from his seat like a rag doll. His world spun end over end as he sailed through the air and into a snow bank. Stunned, he tried to right himself, but ended up flailing around on his back like an overturned beetle. The huffing sound grew louder until he felt puffs of hot breath on his forehead.
Jake wept.
* * *
“I’m calling the police,” Emma said. “It’s been six hours now and he still isn’t back.”
“Suit yourself,” said Door from her fireside seat.
Emma stared at her. “You’re not worried? We’re in the middle of a blizzard, it’s dark out, and the owner of the inn is missing. That doesn’t concern you?”
Door closed her book. “No, not really. He’s a native, babe. I’m sure he’s used to this weather. Why don’t you look through the cabinets in the kitchen and find us something to eat.”
“And us?” asked Emma, ignoring the mention of eating. “We’re not natives, Door. We’re three snowbound chicks who aint from ’round here.” She picked up the phone, winding its cord around her finger. The receiver was silent. “Shit! It’s dead. Are you worried yet?”
Just then, the lights went out, leaving the room in dancing firelight.
“Well, yeah, now I am,” said Door.
“Shit shit shit.”
“Don’t flip out, Em. It’s probably just a fuse.”
“It’s not a fuse and you know it. The phone’s dead too. It’s this damn snow. The snow that’s still coming down I might add.”
Door sighed and made her way across the room, cursing as she stubbed her toe on the entry table. She stepped into her snow boots and bent over to lace them.
“Where are you going?” asked Emma.
“I just saw a snow plough drive past.”
“And what, you’re going to chase it down?”
“No, silly, I’m going to make my way out to the road and flag down anyone who drives past. Everyone has a cell these days, even the granola freaks out here. Besides, the plough’s bound to come back the other way eventually.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Serious as a heart attack, babe.”
“You’re going to freeze your ass off out there! And you might just flag down the local axe murderer.”
Door shrugged into her coat and tugged it down around her waist. “Would you rather we sit here, waiting for the fire to die?”
Emma stared at her, mouth open. The fire popped loudly.
“Make that face for too long and it’ll freeze that way,” said Door.
“Yeah yeah. Well, let me come with you then,” said Emma, moving around the reception desk.
“Nah, you stay here. If Cass wakes up and no one’s here, she’ll freak.”
Emma tried to think of another argument but came up short. “Well, stay in view of the windows, and—oh, wait! Let me find a flashlight, there must be one here somewhere.”
“Well make it quick, hon. I’m gonna start melting soon in this getup.”
Emma dropped to her knees and began rifling through the drawers and shelves of the reception area. She could barely see anything in the dim and flickering firelight. She kept flinging her long hair from her eyes in growing agitation. Finally she felt the cool weight of a flashlight. “Bingo.”
Door took it and switched it on, shining it under her chin in classic campfire fashion. “Muhahaha—”
“Makes you look fat.”
“-unh… Real nice, thanks.”
Emma grinned and opened the large door. A blast of cold air buffeted them as Door stepped out into the snow.
“Be safe.”
Door gave a half turn and raised her hand. “You know it.”
Emma went to the window and hugged herself, trying to ward off the chill. It was now completely dark outside, and that made her feel even colder. The glow of the flashlight bobbed and bounced its way out to the road. At one point it disappeared completely, leaving Emma to stare at her own faint reflection in the window, but then it came back, further out. Finally Door must have made it to the road because the light stopped bouncing and simply shifted from left to right.
She was still cold, and her nerves had driven any chance of warmth from her hands and feet. Remembering the wool blankets on the beds, she decided to make a quick run upstairs to fetch one. Maybe she’d wake Cass to let her know their situation. And to gain some company.
She crested the upstairs landing and walked quickly towards her room, afraid to look over her shoulder. The empty aloneness was starting to get to her now. Only that wasn’t it, was it? It was the opposite of being alone. It was the fear of not being alone in that cold dark inn. That age-old fear of the dark ran up her spine and she practically ran the last ten feet to her door.
Then she stopped, hesitating outside her room. She didn’t want to go in now, not into that dark chamber. No, out here she could still see in the faint light, but in there… in there lived her childhood fears. Under the bed and in the closet, maybe right in front of her as she opened the door, all eyes and teeth.
“Oh cut the crap,” she whispered. She opened the door.
Her room was dark and much colder than the hallway. She could just make out the shape of the blanket at the foot of her bed. She could make out the shape of the closet too, and the opaque window on the far side of the room. With a dash, Emma grabbed the blanket, tugging it with more strength than was needed, and raced back out into the hall. She ran all the way to the staircase and tossed the blanket over the balcony, where it fluttered and slipped to the floor below. As she clanged down the wrought-iron steps, she remembered Cass. She’d forgotten to wake her. Oh to hell with it, she thought. Let her sleep.
She carried the blanket over to the window, breathing heavily. Door’s flashlight was nowhere to be seen.
That settled it.
“Cass!” Emma shouted up to the balcony. “Cass, wake up!”
No response.
Emma looked back outside, cupping her hands around her eyes to ward off the glare. There was only darkness beyond the dim light of the inn. Her heart was racing now.
A dozen scenarios of Door’s fate ran through Emma’s head, but none were satisfying, and some only scared her more. She was going to have to get Cass. Another minute alone in this place and she would lose it.
Leaving her blanket behind, Emma mounted the stairs once more. Cass’s room faced the balcony, thank god. At least she wouldn’t have to run down that dark hallway again. She knocked on the door and called out.
Still no response.
Getting annoyed, Emma opened the door.
“Damnit, Cass, wake—”
Cass was standing at the door as it opened.
Emma’s throat constricted. “Cass?”
Cassandra’s room was dark, but it was clear that she was completely naked. Her eyes were wide, but her face seemed calm. Her chest was heaving fast and steady.
“Cass, what… are you ok? What the hell is that on your face?” Emma asked, taking a step back.
Cass stepped forward, in sync with Emma, out into the light. Blood ran down her chin and neck. Her hair was matted with it. Behind her, the bedroom window was open.
“What the hell happened to you?” Emma heard the fear in her own voice. She continued moving backwards. Then Cass spoke in an unnaturally deep voice, pausing between breaths.
“Didn’t… you know?” A deep halting laugh. She grinned but there was no mirth there, only a strained expression. In stunned fascination, Emma watched a rich yellow wash into Cassandra’s eyes, staining them amber. Cass’s back arched and her head snapped back. She gave an agonizing gasp and tried to speak again, but it came out stunted and clipped. “Hnh… hnh…”
Emma’s eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her head. She stood in shock, not believing what she was seeing. Her whole body was shaking, and hers wasn’t the only one. Cass was now having some kind of seizure, her yellow eyes rolling wildly. With each spasm, she cried out. Her skin began to ripple. Then she stopped and looked Emma in the eye. For a moment Cass was still. She wore an expression of concern and sorrow.
“Run, Emma,” she said in her thick, deep voice. “Unh! Run!”
There was no room in Emma’s mind for rational thought anymore, no place for analysis. Her primal instincts were now running the show. She turned to the staircase and slid down the railing, already running before she hit the floor. Her reflexes were on high alert, and when she caught her own reflection in the windows, she snarled in fear and jerked back. Her own terrified face looked back at her, a twin she’d never met. Then she was running again. Above and behind her, she heard Cassandra’s moans transform into harsh growls and roars.
Emma ran fast to the door. She scooped up her boots and ripped her coat from the rack, sending it spinning across the hardwood floor. Then she was out and into the snow. Under black skies, she ran. Her jeans were soaked up to her thighs, and her feet were in agony. At one point she stepped on something sharp, and she cried out. The cold amplified the pain, but eventually it also numbed it.
An angry howl rolled down the hill behind her.
Emma spun around, backpedaling. The inn rose above her on its snowy perch, a warm glow pouring from its tall windows. Something was running towards her, along the trail connecting her with its entrance. She turned back around and ploughed straight into Door. The two fell into the snow and Emma grabbed hold of her.
“Door! We have to run! Come on!”
“What are you talking abo—”
“COME ON!”
Emma grabbed Door’s coat, and with strength born of panic, she yanked her to her feet. The two burst out onto the open road, spraying snow across the freshly scraped asphalt. Finally gaining some traction, Emma opened her lungs and ran as fast as she could. The road was a darker blur in a dark world. She could barely see her own feet. Eventually the sound of Door’s breathing behind her faded away, and her own breathing and footfalls were the only sounds around her. She came to a stop.
“Door!”
Silence.
“DOOR!”
A roar and a hulking shape burst from the trees and onto the road before her. It skidded into the far snow bank. Before it could right itself, Emma turned and ran. She rounded a bend in the road and spied the glow of distant headlights. Oh please god let me get to them, she thought. Let them get to me!
The Cassandra-beast was closing on her fast, and each of its breaths came out in a harsh bark. The wind was roaring in Emma’s ears. She raced towards the oncoming car, her lungs on fire. The car should have been much closer by now, why the hell wasn’t it moving faster?
Then she realized the car wasn’t moving. In fact, it wasn’t even a car at all. The snow plough!
Each breath was agony, but she shouted anyway. “Help me! Please!”
The roaring breath of the beast behind her was too close. Any moment now, she thought. Then there was silence behind her. The growling gallop of her pursuer stopped, and the only sound was the wind in her ears.
It landed on Emma’s back, sending her sprawling onto the road. A searing pain flared in her calf and she cracked her chin on the icy pavement. Stars burst over her vision, and she cried out hysterically. The Cassandra-thing rose up before her, standing tall on its hind legs. Its fur-covered flesh rippled over knotted muscles, and its misshapen head looked down on her through hungry, amber lanterns.
An explosion of snow and pine needles showered them both. Cassandra spun toward the new dark shape that barreled into her. A second beast was now rolling on the ground, grappling with its Cassandra counterpart. There was a vicious roar, but from which of them Emma didn’t know. She was dizzy and her jaw was throbbing. She tried to crawl back away from the frenzied monsters. Bathed in the headlights of the snow plough, the twin creatures fought and tore at one another with great claws and dripping fangs.
Emma tried to stand, but her right leg screamed at her. She looked down to see bloody, shredded flesh and she swooned. Tears were running down her cheeks. By now she had no idea which of the beasts was Cassandra, not that it mattered. They were probably fighting over their meal like two junkyard dogs. The thought of being eaten heightened her fear and strength, and she clawed and kicked her way towards the plough truck.
Its lights were blinding now—she was getting close. She stole a glance over her shoulder and saw one of the beasts looming over the prone form of the second. Its chest heaved and blood dripped from its maw. It looked like some victorious, rabid Anubis. Then it turned to face Emma and she cried out in fear. She rolled onto her belly, ignoring the burst of pain from her leg, and began pulling and kicking madly. She was almost close enough to touch the chipped and battered metal surface of the plough.
“Emma,” said a deep voice from close behind her. “Emma, it’s me.” This time the voice was softer, lighter.
Emma pulled herself into a sitting position beside the plough and faced the beast. Only it wasn’t a beast now, it was a furry Door. And then it was just Door, standing nude and trembling. The last remnants of her change—the yellow eyes—faded away, and she collapsed beside Emma, shivering in the snow. Emma stared down at her in shock, not knowing what to say or do. She looked up the road and saw Cass lying naked in the headlights, her head at an odd angle. Her eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky.
“Emma,” came Door’s strained voice.
“I don’t understand,” Emma said, sniffing and wiping away tears. It was all she could think to say in her stupor.
Door coughed out a laugh, and said, “Didn’t you hear Cass before? I’m a real bitch.”
Emma stared down at her for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. Then she broke into uncontrollable laughter. I must be losing my mind, she thought. But for the moment, she had to let it out. The two girls lay in the ploughed snow, laughing and crying.
Finally they quieted, and Door wrapped herself in Emma’s coat. She looked over to Emma and then out to Cassandra. Finally her eyes rested on Emma’s bloodied leg.
“Looks like you’ve been given a gift, Em,” she said. “And I have so much to tell you.”
Back to: Vol 1, Issue 1