Dastardly Bastard(61)

~ * ~



Justine was squeezing something in her hands. It felt soft and spongy. She could hear rasping, could feel nails being scratched down her forearms.

“Yes! Yes, child!”



~ * ~



“He’s making you do it, baby girl. He’s lied to you.”

“I know. It’s the only way.”

“Your grandpapa went like this. He was begging when I made the shadows leave. They gave him power. But there’s only one place the mem’ries cannot find us. Death.”



~ * ~



Scott’s eye bulged as Justine dug her thumbs into his throat. The Bastard was turning the crank, making her bear down harder. The boy’s eye filled with the realization that it was finally over. His arms fell away from Justine, ceasing in their battle to stop her. Scott nodded slightly. He reached with a trembling hand and brushed hair out of her face.

What she was doing was horrible, inconceivable, but she didn’t stop. There was no way to stop. The Bastard had complete control.

Scott’s face crumbled in on itself, withering. The skin felt like parchment under her fingers. Still, she continued until her hand broke through, and she was holding his verebrae in her hands.

Eighty years of decay in only seconds. Justine was left holding a skeleton by the base of the skull.



~ * ~



“Has he won?”

“No, Just. He’s forgotten something. You have, too. Something very important. You remember, don’t you?”

“No. I only remember you. Your heart. Your kind eyes. You were always there for me. Scott, he didn’t have that. He didn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Neither did Papa. But you know what? He died long before I took him. That shadow had laid waste to the man I loved. There was nothing left when it was done. This boy wasn’t himself either. Scott died long ago, baby girl.”



~ * ~



“No.” The Bastard rolled over her, chilling her entire body with his presence. “You will not build a place to hide. You will give in. You will forget.”



~ * ~



“Nana?”

Justine found herself alone, her grandfather’s casket slowly lowering into the ground before her. Nana Penance was gone, as was her mother, along with the other mourners. Cold breath played across the side of her neck. The Bastard lingered in her peripheral vision, far too solid. He smiled. Why not? He had won.

“Nana!”

“She’s no longer here. I am all that is left. I have made good on my promise.”

“What promise?” Justine thought she knew, but it left her before her mind could wrap around it. She suddenly couldn’t remember her grandmother’s name. Justine could see her grandmother’s face fading off in the distance. Then, it too was gone.

“Never you mind that. We have traveling to do. Memories to…” The Bastard shuddered. “Feed upon.”

“Where are we going?” Justine didn’t really care. She only asked the question out of curiosity.

“So many questions. None that concern you.”

“No. They don’t.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You will feed. There will be more. There always are.”

“What do we do until then?”

“We wait. We’re so very good at waiting.”

“Yes.” Justine smiled. “Yes, we are.”





47


DONALD AND THE REST OF the group found Jaleel’s corpse on their way through the cavern’s tunnels. The hair was bone white. The man looked emaciated, as if he’d been sucked dry. Donald couldn’t look too long upon the man’s face, didn’t want to accept that Jaleel’s eyes were gone. He’d heard somewhere that the eyes were the windows of the soul. Maybe it was in the Bible, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Anybody concerned with where that light is coming from?” Trevor asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence.

“It followed me when Sunne… when that monster was chasing me through this place,” Donald said, glad to quit thinking of Jaleel.

The soft, diffuse light hovered around them, covering them in a glowing yellow hue. Donald had thought it might be a ploy, a distraction. The Bastard wanted them to find Jaleel, wanted them to lose hope.

The big guy tried to cover Lyle’s eyes, but the boy saw enough. The kid buried his face into Mark’s stomach and cried so fiercely that Donald thought his own heart would fall from his chest.

Donald knelt beside the withered body and closed Jaleel Warner’s eyelids over their empty sockets.

Donald prayed a silent prayer. He was an atheist and had never believed in any invisible man over the rainbow, but that didn’t stop him from asking for help. They were not safe no matter what they thought. Stronger wills were working against him, and he wasn’t all that sure they would make it out.

As if Mark was reading his mind, the big guy said, “This doesn’t change anything. We keep looking. Justine’s still alive. I know it.”

Donald’s inner asshole wanted so bad to say something, to disagree, to curse and flip his shit, but he held it back. Justine would want that. He would tell her, when they found her, that she had helped him deal with an infected sore at the core of his being. Justine needed to know. Moreover, Donald needed to make her aware the world wasn’t so bad, after all. People weren’t so terrible. Life was worth living, and people should cherish it.