Not Today, Part Three

I woke up in darkness. Someone had turned all the lights off and closed the blinds. I heard Rachel snoring softly in a chair, the book in her lap. 

            Late sunlight flickered through the blinds. Maybe I hadn’t missed ordering dinner.

            I picked up the TV remote, turned the sound down, and started clicking through the news broadcasts.

            Weather. Shootings and robberies. The president’s latest tweets. Then—

            “Another strange animal attack on the city’s north side near the lakefront.” 

            I brought the bed up. The story was sparse on details. The reporter stood with Lake Michigan behind her. All she did was regurgitate the official story, although she did quote a few witnesses, who described the attack as “gruesome” and “bloody.” The victim was in a nearby hospital, expected to recover.

            Oh hell. I picked up my phone. Somewhere I had Carrie’s number from years ago. I scrolled down. Rachel stayed asleep.

            Carrie picked up. “What? Why are you calling me?”

            “It’s still out there. Attacking people. What are you doing about it?”

            “I’m trying to find Lionna! Look—” her voice trembled. “I have to get off. The voarkla knows I’m looking for it—”

            She hung up. 

Fine. I dropped the phone on my bed. Let Carrie handle it. Not my problem. All I had to do was take some medicine, order another cheeseburger and a salad for Rachel, and maybe tomorrow I’d get to go home. 

But if the voarkla was looking for Carrie—

“Rachel?” I picked up my phone. “Where does Carrie live?”

“What?” She lurched forward, dropping her book. “I just dozed off! What are you talking about?”

“The voarkla. She thinks it’s coming after her. She’s in danger. We have to do something.” I punched numbers on my phone. 

“She’s at—give me a minute . . .” She dug into her bag. “What’s going on?”

“The voarkla!” I slumped, weak again. A moment ago I’d been ready to pull my IVs out, jump out of the bed, grab my pants, and go into the battle. Now I could barely move.

I was useless.

            Damn it, damn it, damn it . . .

            My phone buzzed. “Yeah?” Anita Sharpe.

            I didn’t remember actually finding her number. But I managed to talk. “You’ve got to send someone to . . . uh . . .”

            I held my phone up. “Tell her the address. Please.”

            Rachel took my phone. “Anita? This is Rachel. I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . okay. Here’s the address. Carrie Newton. Thanks.”

            She shoved the phone back at me. “She’s sending someone. Now you just sit back and calm down, damn it.”

            I nodded. “Yeah. Right. I was going to order dinner. And a salad for you. And . . .”

            My eyes flickered at the window. “Pull up the blinds.”

            With a groan, Rachel yanked on the string. Then she jumped back. “Shit!”

            The voarkla perched outside, its sharp teeth grinning.

            My body went stiff. It wasn’t trying to kill Carrie. It was hunting me.  

            I took a deep breath. Maybe one of my last. But as depressed as I’d been a few days ago—a few minutes—suddenly I wanted to live at least five more minutes.

            I grabbed for the call button.

            Then the glass broke. It shattered across the room.

            “Rachel!” I rolled over, punching at the bed control. “Get out, get out!”

            The voarkla jumped through the window and roared, its jaws wide. I grabbed a pillow—the only weapon I had—and thrust it at its face. I kicked as hard as I could, trying to scramble away.

            Rachel jumped up. “What the—”

            She threw her book at the voarkla, and then she was at the door, yelling for help. She’s no damsel in distress, but she knows when to call for the cavalry.

            I somehow managed to shift the guard rails on my bed down. I hit the floor with a hard bump and swore. I couldn’t exactly roll under the bed’s wheels. All I could do was try to keep the voarkla busy while it tried to kill me. Maybe Rachel could get away. 

            The voarkla drooled on my hospital gown. The claws in its hands looked sharp. 

            I was ready. Not really, but what else could I do? I lifted my arms, shielding my face. “Come and get me, you asshole. Just try it.”

            The voarkla lunged—

            And then everything froze.

            The voarkla hung in the air above me. But I could move. I rolled away, gasping as my heart pounded.

            Rachel stood at the door, her mouth open, her hand high. But paralyzed.

            One shard of window glass floated inches above the tile. I flicked a finger at it. It didn’t move.

            Was I dead? 

I sat up. My heart slowed down. Maybe this was my near-death hallucination. I waited for the white light. 

Instead a woman appeared before me. I’d seen her before.

She was tall, with dark skin, and she wore a long gray robe. Her feet were big and bare on the tile.

Lionna. The goddess from the other universe.

She looked around, then zeroed her eyes on me. “I’ve seen you before.”

“Yeah.” I slumped on the floor. “Tom Jurgen. It was a while ago.”

She walked—no, she glided—across the floor. 

I managed to sit up on my elbows. “Ponto—Pontoavallian? Is he okay?”

Lionna smiled. “Yes. I know you.”

Great. I looked over at Rachel, still motionless at the door. “Look, you can do what you want with me. I don’t care. Just let her get away. That’s all I’m asking you. And if you can . . .”

I wiped an arm over my eyes. “Just say hi to Ponto for me, will you? He might remember me.”

The room went dark. Okay, this was it. I took a deep breath.

“Pontoavallian says hello.” The words floated in the air. “He wishes you well.”

I blinked. What?

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered. Then harsh light flooded the room. 

Rachel was shouting at the door. The voarkla was gone.

But I was still alive.

Not today.

I slumped down and fell asleep.

 

They sent me home the next day, with a prescription for anti-depressant meds and the name of a psychiatrist.

            Rachel walked me to her Prius. “You are taking a few weeks off. I can’t do this again.”

            “Is Carrie okay?” I managed to buckle myself up.

            “She’s fine. She says hi.” She started the car. “Actually she said ‘Tell that asshole hello. You’re still too good for him.’”

            I put a hand on her arm. “Why are we here?” I had to ask. “I mean . . . not the car, not the hospital. Just . . . you and me.”

            “Right now, you ask me this?” Rachel pounded the wheel. “Christ, I sound like Yoda.” She sat back in her seat. “All right, I’m just going to say this once, so listen, all right?”

            I braced myself for bad news.

            Rachel stared through the windshield. “I had . . . okay, a lot of boyfriends when I was younger. I’m not going to say how many, but don’t get the idea I was some kind of a slut.”

            I shook my head. “Of course not.”

            “Most of them were liars.” Rachel sighed. “They played games, and I never knew where they were coming from before I figured out how to read people. Then I didn’t date anybody for a long time. When I met you . . .” Her lips curled in a smile. “Well, you know I’m kind of psychic.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I remember that.”

“I could sense that you were—reliable. It’s what I was looking for.” 

            Then she straightened up in her seat. “All right? Are we done?”

            “Yeah.” Actually, I’d always thought Rachel was the dependable one. “Thanks.”

            “Just shut up and let me drive.” She peered in her rearview mirror. “Let’s go home.”

 

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