The wind howls through the darkness, caressing the midnight silence which visits Bushkill on this pleasant August evening. Hazy rays of the moonlight shine through the atmosphere, casting a faint visual of what might be and what might not.

The world is grave-silent and asleep except for the whistling and silent songs of gardens and magnificent building illuminating only shady rays on the moist asphalt.

A figure is seen walking fragilely from the end of the long road. It takes brittle steps, dragging one foot behind as it limps further. From a distance, its amber eyes are visible to sight but filled with only faintness.

***

Sophie has just changed into her nightdress. White lingerie that only covers the essential parts of her body. She heads to Christian's room, walking down the long corridor before reaching the door. She turns the knob and the door swings open.

Christian lies on the bed, his white pajamas covered by a blue blanket up till the top of his chest with his fingers wrapped against them. Sophie stares at him a little longer, wondering if she should call his name or believe he is asleep. She waits a little longer. His eyes lid vibrates slightly but they don't open. She turns and exits the room just as she shut the door behind her.

Christian opens his eyes just as the door closes. He smiles at himself for a job well done. He is not always lucky to trick her into believing he had fallen asleep on his own when in reality, he will sit up all night doing nothing but staring into space, counting stars, acting pirates or thinking about nothing his twelve years old mind should know.

Today, he quickly tosses the blanket off his body, revealing his fullness covered in smoothing fabric.

The wind is sharp and the whistles almost like the howls of wolves in the distant woods. It is a beautiful night, he admits but the sleepless night did not begin today and no matter how much energy he burns a day or how cold the nights are, he never falls asleep until hours past his bedtime.

He stares outside the window, his mind lost in his own childish fantasies. His hand automatically reaches his chin and he only finds himself gazing into the stars when he decides to admire the entirety of the land dimly illuminated by the half-moon.

His heart jumps at the sight of something in the distant dark. He stares deeper, but the image only remains as fuzzy as it had appeared the first time.

His instincts are singing and the words his mind can register are the fright that now brushes through every nerve and invades his skin in the form of goosebumps.

He pulls away from the window, watching as his heart heaves. Up down. Up, down. Up, down.

He closes his eyes, letting what he's seen register in his mind. He is dreaming. He should curl back into his bed and close his eyes. He never saw anything. No. Mom had caught him pretending to be asleep and forced him into sleep. There's nothing in the distant end. He is seeing things.

He takes a fragile step to the bed but curiosity calls. Curiosity reminds him he will not be able to close his eyes for days if he does not see it through. If he does not see what faintly strides through the dark night.

So he turns again. He does not come to full view. He watches the figure move like the zombies from the video game. It was how the Apocalypse begins. First, a single zombie is seen raiding the streets but just as humans think they had it under control, a pack would lash out of a corner, charging towards them. No! Don't think that. Zombies are not real.

He is patient. His heart is killing him but he is patient. He will see it through. He will see the figure. Slowly, it is becoming clearer. He can see the shape out of the dark. It looks like a human. It is human. But zombies are humans that ended up as lab rats and return to revenge so it is too early to judge. If it is human, why are they out at night, walking slowly from the dark?
The house. Towards the house.

***

The figure raises its head. It can see the house from a distance. The top rooms have their night lights turned on unlike most in the side of the street. The metallic taste on its lips grow and its leg is sore from walking. It gazes at the destination but, just one more step. It is the word that keeps it going.

It is sure it had seen someone for a few seconds. A boy perhaps. It keeps its eyes on the window but no one comes to sight anymore. It walks past a house with its light slightly contributing to that of the moon, a brighter image of the figure is visible. It is human. A girl. Definitely in her late teens. Her eyes are red as flames. Amber. Her gaze is faint and fuzzy like she can only see what is exactly in front of her. Her dress is white, assuming the dirt and unknown substances are cleaned off it.

***

Christian can see her a little better. He can see the shape. It is definitely human and not a fragment of his imaginations. He is not dreaming but who is she and why is she walking like she had missed death by a slight chance?

He is too young to know the answer. The lady needs help; that's what he knows. She pulls her leg, hopping. Her dress. Christian thinks it's a rag. She is either poor or had escaped something brutal. He continues to study her. Continues to scrutinize her. By the time more is visible. He finds the dress is ripped. The gown is supposedly white but now has a mixture of dirt and something. Something is off about it.

His heart already stops heaving and is immediately overshadowed with curiosity. His only thoughts are, who is she? Where is she going? Most importantly, where is she from?

She passes another building, then another block and now, a fully undoubtedly human walks further and further like the force that keeps Christian on this window watching her when he should be in bed is the same force pulling her to take slow and cautious steps forward.

Christian does not think of it. He almost has been too immersed in his curious thought but now she is closer. She had not made turns or, as much as, stop to check where she is headed but just keeps walking—further.

It is when it dawns on him she is just a couple steps away from their gate.

"Mommy!" he screams.

He pulls away from the window this time, not to his bed. "Daddy... Mommy..." he runs out of his room into the corridor, then towards their room. One screams replacing the former. He reaches the door to his parent's room, turns the knob.

"DADDY..." Michael jumps off the bed as the voice of his screaming son shakes him off the peaceful sleep he was previously enjoying. His wife's response is exactly the same. They are seated on the bed, eyes wide open, staring at their fretting son, evidently struggling to say what he had woken them up for. And then...

"There's someone outside...I...I...don't know her but hurry!" Christian finally manages to make some sense, beckoning his parent and almost bouncing off his feet as he gingers for them to make haste.

"What are you talking about?" Michael questions his son but he doesn't take it lightly. His tone shows interest and his question doesn't stop him from pulling his glasses to his eyes and stepping out of the bed to follow his Christian to see what had gotten him worked up that he came barging into their room.

Christian pulls his father who grumpily follows behind to the front door.

"Open it, she is outside, I swear." Michael opens the door. He trusts his son. If he says he saw someone and did run into their room fretting as a result, then it should not hurt to check. It should not hurt even though he is yet to comprehend what Christian has been blabbing about.

The door pulls open and twistedly, Michael's expectation to see the disappointment in his son's eyes when they find nothing is replaced by a "Bloody hell." alongside a "what the fuck" from Sophie.

Their jaws remain on its fallen state as they stare at the familiar yet almost unrecognized girl barely standing in front of them. Michael feels his hands turn cold and sweat suddenly form balls on it and he is for once, unsure whether to dash towards the person or remain still.

The lady staggers for a bit, just as if the wind had increased its momentum. She begins to fall backwards and all barriers freezing Michael's body suddenly let loose and he is running towards her.

She collapses in front of him, her amber eyes fading into its shell as he held her head up.

"Call 911," he screams, his tender eyes brimming with concern and fear as they take a quick scan around, searching for answers he knows he isn't going to get until some goddamn thing is done about the strange girl.

"Call a fucking ambulance, Sophie! Call 911." he looks back at her. He is unsure of what to do. How to carry out a CPR. Is CPR even needed for this? He only holds her hair. Holds her head.

"Call 911" he continues, his fear and apprehension now doing the talking as though he needs to smack her on the ears to help with her hearing.

All Chapters of Devil's Dark: Chapter 31

Thirty One