VIOLENT EYES

Chapter III

THE GODS OF GHOST RIVER

“When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin’, but not to help.”

- Thomas Harris, The Silence of the Lambs

“AAAARAGGGHHHH,” I gasp.

My lungs fill! Surprise, I can breathe? My eyelids stick together, warm reds percolating through the membrane. It must be daybreak, but exhaustion grips me, I've no will to fight it, slipping back into sweet unconsciousness…

Fluttering open, daylight pierces my vision, the searing orb unrelenting against the hardened earth. Midday? How long was I asleep? Little beads of sweat drip between my fingertips, I feel like I’m roasting. Dazed, I roll to my side hoping to escape the harsh rays. OOOf. Wrong side! On my left, a dull horrible ache shudders through my body, like a runner’s cramp, but worse.

I pull myself up, muscles trembling. Why can’t anything work right? Everything hurts, the minor motions becoming insurmountable obstacles. Sitting upright, the world materializes. Bright blond stones stand rigid, a natural henge ominously looming over my weakened form. I miss the welcoming shade of these pillars, which died with the sun coming to its zenith.

The burning, that dreadful sensation in my shoulder is conspicuously missing. Was last night some kind of horrible nightmare? Did I pass out in the desert and imagine it all?

Eyes alone in the darkness.

I look down, my once white tank top has a horrible crusty stain, nauseatingly large. My left side is dark brown and spattered with little bits of bleeding pink. The front of my baggy black shorts have a faint beige discoloration that runs a deep swath down my leg, like some kind of hellish road. It isn’t all in my mind. I was gushing blood. I was dying!

BURNING. Leaking.

I take a deep shuddering breath, I seem to be alive now? Tracing my fingers along the enormous blotch in my once alabaster fabric, I find an opening, the exit of the bullet. Shot in the back, Nico fucking shot me in the back! Probing the hole in my shirt, searching for the gunshot wound, I brush healthy smooth skin. I blink, jabbing my finger deeper. OW! Met with inexplicable resistance, there’s no perforation, just tissue and muscle as it should be. WHERE IS MY GODDAMNED WOUND?!!!

Panic grips me, none of this makes sense, the observable world isn’t adding up. I feel blank, like cloth bleached, leaving no trace of stain, the debris of my last twenty-four hours stripped from me. Unable to place it, something at my core is wrong, an impending sense that just beyond my perception, a presence is pulling unseen strings. My stomach tightens. OUCH! A little too hard. My innards are bruised.

Wobbling to my feet, I touch the ground gingerly, the heat building against the rough rock. My sense of survival kicking in, it becomes apparent I need to move, if I linger I’ll run out of water or worse, cook to death. Find shade. Stay hydrated. My eyes slowly adjust to the blinding brightness, the land stretching out below me, standing high above a plateau of uplifted spires and ancient soil. Ribbons of color and texture swirl, their alignment parallel to each other. Salty liquid stings my cheeks, the flowing hues beautiful enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Six or seven hundred feet above the valley, my perch, a massive mountain of cream sandstone, bending into the ground like a piece of draped cloth. Queasiness wells up in the pit of my stomach. I retch, but nothing comes up. I’m empty, I haven’t eaten in hours, between the sick and the heat, I’ve got a daunting task ahead of me.

Surveying my surroundings, I look for landmarks. Something, anything, that can help me. The basin beneath is made up of hills of soft sediments, stacked like layers of a cake; purple, grey, and maroon banding through them. It looks familiar, but I struggle to place it. Either way, a road and maybe civilization will most likely be down rather than up. I breathe deeply, as the day wears on I’ll seek cover where I can, and hopefully climb down the stone cliff face I find myself on.

Turning away from the valley, I gaze at my strange peak, gnarled grooves and impassible ridges rise disturbingly above me. Looking closer, I notice something out of place down the length of the rock. Dark shadows reflecting off of deep creases in the great sandstone mountain, between three hundred to a thousand feet from me. I pause, taking a moment to register my observation, maybe these are box canyons? My ticket off of this rock and maybe the ticket to some welcome shade.

Tremors running through me, I gently traverse the harsh terrain to the nearest fractured shadow, the cramping pain in my side rises and falls. Exhausted, I carefully place each step, I don’t have confidence that my feet will find sturdy ground. I scramble over sediments hewn by the elements, bashing my shins on the occasional slab. Just one step at a time, I finally make it, the precipice of a huge box canyon.

I’m finally right about something!

The canyon is at least two hundred feet deep. I gulp, that throb in my stomach feels worse, this is real now, I need a route down. Peering into the gloom, I spy a crack, a ledge along the wall, it’s narrow, but looks doable, especially if I brace against the stone face as I go.

I could kill for a cigarette right now.

“Shut up and stay focused,” I mumble to myself, shaking the craving away.

I prepare for descent, my fingers tracing the minute fractures in the rock. The grains of the surface reflect a dazzling diversity of color, it’s surprising that from a distance it appears a dull blond, a whole universe hidden in these microscopic deposits. My mind wanders, I need to keep my attention on the task. A painful exhale shudders through me, okay, here goes.

Wedging my fingers in the tiny pocket of earth, my grip seems to hold. My foot inches out onto the ledge. Stable, okay. Next foot. Next arm. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat. Inches at a time, I go. I don’t look down, just to my tiny path. On the tips of my toes, I warily traverse the wall. Time fades. Rinse, repeat. The rock seems friendly, not letting me go, not letting me slip. Rinse, repeat.

Suddenly, I realize my path is gone, the soles of my boots are on solid ground. In a state of relief blended with fatigue, I crumple onto the dirt of the canyon floor and cry… tears of disbelief. The world’s worst fucking day and I’m still alive, it’s almost too much to bear. I lay here and sob, solitary, stone, oak scrubland, and shade, my only companions.

••••

The shadows draw closer, verdant trees shudder, their bark cracking. Darkness closes in, a set of eyes, not human, a sideways slit pupil, amphibian, maybe, emerging from the plant. Four more pairs of beady black pinpoints break the surface, until the spindly trunk is made of orbs. Hysteria sets in, struggling to my feet, tearing through the gorge, as thousands, no, millions of eyes consume the ground and the hundreds of feet of rock wall. Gloom, there’s no stone, just shadow and prying eyes. They shift from a plethora of variation, a tree of life, to a single monstrous hue, stormy silver, fixed upon me.

Awaken

••••

My lids snap open, how long was I asleep? Keeping still, I carefully inspect the oaks for eyes, the sandstone too, but all that’s there is that dull blond tone, the sediment as it is and always has been. A strange murmur rings through the canyon. I go quiet, perfectly motionless, pressing my body as flat as I can into the sandy soil.

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Silence.

I hold my breath.

Eerie stillness.

Wind breaks, and the scrub oak rattles in the pit of the gorge. Alone, but it’s time for me to leave. I pull myself up and quietly walk through the grove of brush, just a ghost in the greenery. My ears adjust to the quiet, not nearly as quiet as I thought, insects sing with clear rhythmic tones, desert birds converse with fervor akin to a bustling metropolis. A magpie barks what could easily be a torrent of swearing, whistles, and then disappears. My fellow denizens make themselves scarce; as much as I can hear them, many I can’t see. I’m a stranger here, an unwelcome prowler, treading were people are not supposed to tread. At least there are no car alarms or the shattering of glass.

Pressing forward, the oaks grow taller, opening the path. The tiny forest gives way to intense boundless blue sky, piles of strange soil sit in mounds in front of me. Their bands of sediment are vertical, soft and powdery to the touch, yellow ocher striped with crimson. These hills jut steeply into the sky, blocking my way. All I can do now is climb. My black boots slide ineffectively against the ground, two steps forward and then I backslide a step, natural powder caking around my feet. Exposed; the heat beats against my shoulders. I miss my shade. I miss my bed. I miss my little room. I want a fucking cigarette. Fuck Nico!

A brave scrub jay flaps over to me, electric blue, it hops energetically to my side, analyzing my progress with curiosity. I feel that warmth in my chest again, strangely reassured, I nod at my little ally. It pops by me with ease, up, up, the incline. Yet, it waits for me at the top of the hill, cocking its head to one side. An involuntary smile breaks across my lips, I guess I’ve at least made a better friend than Nico. I reach the crest of the hill, less frustrated than I started, mostly amused by the cerulean bird marking my progress. It’s late afternoon and the shadows lengthen between the layers of rock that lay before me. To my surprise, from my new vantage point, I recognize my surroundings. Another picture flashes into my mind’s eye, a far off memory, the tricolored mounds of ancient soil in the bottom of the valley are called Vermillion Hills. Which means… I’m close to a city!

White settlers here some two hundred years ago weren’t particularly clever or creative. They named their sad little town the City of Vermillion… For the landmark. But, my people have a much better name for this place. Thousands of years before the idea of the New World sparked the imaginations of kings, tyrants, and genocidal beasts, we called it O’chohca, “the place of blood and bone” in the old tongue. Standing in disbelief, I remembered all of this, burned into my brain in a place I hadn’t accessed in years. I struck gold, my mind’s payout, information.

I turn to my avian buddy, its big eyes twinkling. With zeal, it flutters to another patch of scrub, against a daunting fin of pink rock. This spire rises out of the vegetation below me, a solid wave of earth frozen in time. Awkwardly, I half sit, half crouch, sliding down the soft side of my tiger-striped mound. Easier coming down, but less graceful. As silly as I must look, my new friend doesn’t judge me, it just seems to be enjoying the ride, watching me intently like the character in a very entertaining film. A drama, with a few servings of well placed comedy.

I scramble up the hard sandstone bluff with less effort than the last layer I descended from. Upon seeing my success, the wide-eyed bird lets out a shrill screech of delight, bobs its head from its newfound perch, and ascends into the sky, heading back to its home in the box canyon. Solitary again, a little emptier upon losing my companion, but there’s more work ahead of me. My scrub jay can’t leave its busy life behind; this is the way of things.

Slab upon slab of brilliantly pigmented stone, I climb up and slide down. Weariness sets in with each ascent, only to be relieved by the decline on the other side. Shadows of these pinnacles of sediment grow long and ominous with the waning sky, like the fingers of inky spirits reaching, grasping, hoping to snare me. I’m not letting these dark thoughts entangle me, just one foot after the other, one step at a time.

Twilight draws closer, pink light of the falling sun igniting the painted caps of the Vermillion Hills on fire. After hours of hard work clambering over ridge upon ridge, stone shearing off the skin on my hands, I see something. A dark bend between the fractured earth, it can’t be a river, the deepest part of the valley is still below me. Can it be? A road, only a hundred yards away! I quiver with excitement, salvation is at hand, hope! Pulling my tired muscles to action with the last of my strength, I stumble down the remaining rusty boulders. My legs don’t feel like my own, they’re auto piloting me to my destination.

“Almost there,” I speak a rhythmic mantra to myself.

I’m gaining, quickly, pavement is my new best friend, I want to lie on it and fall asleep forever. Relief swells over me, just one more boulder, just one more thorny bush and I’m there. The walk isn’t over but I can amble by, I’ll follow this to civilization and if I’m lucky, someone can give me a lift.

Lights blister my eyes as a car rounds the corner. Thumb out, this is my chance! An elegant white SUV with camping gear strapped to its roof breezes by with the distinct sound of the locks clicking. My stomach drops, first person I’ve seen in over twelve hours and I can’t catch a break. Looking down at my form, I’m suddenly self-conscious. I look terrifying, a tall stringy longhaired man covered in blood and dirt, visage of a serial killer. No sane person would pick up my miserable hide. Stumbling along, I follow the long departed car down the road, maybe, west? The sun’s final glow ahead of me, yes, it must be west.

A rumble pierces through the twilight. Another car? Holding up my fatigued arm, I make a half-assed thumbs up, as a spry hatch-back zips past me, not acknowledging my presence. Onward I trudge, dusk closing in, the sky changing from magenta to indigo, stars sparkling with radiant light. On I go, lonely, no sense of time, down this river of asphalt and tar.

“Almost there. Almost there. Almost there,” my mantra returning to me.

Each footstep a monumental feat, it could be hours or minutes. The rhythm of my steel toe boots my guide, for the first time in my life I wish they weren’t nearly as heavy. Exhaustion is creeping back into the sinews of my muscles, eating up the last of my strength. Chatter of desert insects muffles the material world, becoming accustomed to the gloom, the glinting summer stars cast rays against the ancient natural pillars flanking my path. The night is alive, a warm breeze tickles the hairs on the back of my neck, it could easily be the breath of the earth itself, heaving a great sigh. Without the gnawing sense of debility this might be a pleasant hike.

RWWWARRBBBUURBRBRB!

A noise cuts through the desert night. In the distance behind me, dazzling lights flicker as a car skitters towards me. It’s gaining distance quickly, the engine thumping with intense vigor. Another chance! I’m out, with my thumb at the ready, my hopes aren’t high, but I’ll take what I can get. Glaring into the once desolate blackness, illumination obscures my vision.

RURBRURBRURB!

I can’t believe it! It’s slowing!

“Hey! Hey!” I yell, running to this glorious thing, waving my arms wildly.

Two vivid pinpoints of light stop about ten feet in front of me, the silhouette of the machine tall and boxy, suspended on large tires. I peer at the shape of the vehicle, through the harsh brightness, registering something familiar. Neon green.

FUCK.

“No no no nO NO NO NO NO,” I scream, tearing into the darkness as Nico steps out of his hateful car, gun at the ready.

Why why why? I dart into the juniper scrub. My nightmare on repeat, why can’t I be rid of Nico and his insatiable blood lust. Tracing the rusting stone lining the road, I need a place to hide, but the rock face is tall and unyielding.

“Hey fuck nutz, I’m comin' for you,” Nico chortles with uncomfortable warmth.

The sandstone wall opens into a fracture, about a yard wide, but not visible from the road. Like smoke, I slip through the gap, impressed with my own ingenuity. Forced between two towering sedimentary layers, I find myself in a natural channel, soft soil long eroded between the folds. I follow my new road, heart palpitating.

“Fucker, you think you’re so smart,” Nico sneers, “I see your footprints, dumbass.”

Light probes the entrance as I sprint down the dry arroyo. Twisting back and forth, the rocks tower above me. Harbingers of what is to come, my only witnesses.

Frenzied, I claw against the sandstone, no traction, I can’t climb its steep sides. Running my only option, my boots sink ineffectively against soft grains, slowing my progress. I turn a corner, the passage widening into a basin, long devoid of nourishing water, once rusty minerals now reflecting luminous blue in the shining moonlight. Dead end, my dead end. I’m just a ghost, a strange mirror of the people that passed through me. Gone, I will fade, no memory of my minuscule existence, just a phantom of what once was.

Click….

I turn, to see Nico beaming, his smile so large his teeth echoing the moon’s glow, like some demented ghoulish clown. He raises his flashlight and gun towards my face, blinding me, finger pressing against the trigger. I close my eyes…

CRASH!

POP! POP!

Wind and noise rush past me. But I’m not burning. Growling, shrieking, thunderous clamoring rips around me. I open my eyes. Nico is flat on his stomach on the powdery ground, his face shoved into the arid sand. His terrorizing aura lost, with his gun tossed away, far out of reach, the torch rolled against the tiny canyon, filling the space with an eerie gleam.

Leering over him, an enormous shadow of fur, teeth, and wings. Silver eyes. Violent eyes. Snarling, a horrible sickle-shaped thumb penetrating deep into his back. Staring in disbelief, a daemon out of the most frightening of fairy tales, this can’t be real, I’m losing my mind. But, his calf is in the beast’s jaws, muscle laid bare, blood pooling from its lips. It’s that raw brand of real you feel numb to. I’m frozen, a deer in headlights.

Struggling against the weight of the animal, Nico emits an unearthly sound. I can only liken it to cries conjured in the darkest corners of my consciousness, as Nana told stories of the Old Ones, their ghastly forms haunting the waking dreams of my childhood. The creature responds in kind with a deep roar that drags into a terrible high-pitched scream, taunting his suffering. I want to run, but the wraith blocks my escape. Removing its talon, it grasps his slack body in its frightful black maw, its neck extending up, up into the night, only to slam Nico’s body into the side of the illuminated rock face.

CRUNCH!

Bones breaking, he tumbles unceremoniously to the ground with a thud, Nico gurgles and grunts using the last of his strength to crawl away from his specter, to no avail. The monster rolls what is left of my once friend over. Staring, bright and piercing eyes effusing a mercury aura, its otherworldly jaws agape.

“NO…” he stammers.

Silence.

A lifetime in seconds, they glare, eyes locked on each other. After a moment of pause, the fiend releases him from its grasp, lifting its long shaggy collar, cocking its head to one side, twitching erratically, peering at him like a dog appraising a new bone. The dark beast’s disk-like orbs, with hues of a summer thunderstorm, widen. Its houndish lips curl revealing long pointed mammalian teeth. Descending with ferocious speed, the entity presses its snout against Nico’s face, its giant muscular wings pinning him to the ground. Screaming, he fights against its grip. The shadowy brute emits a guttural din, mouth strangely unbound from the dimensions of its skull. Unhinged, it extends its maw further than the length of his torso. Building to a shrill cry underlain by a deafening rumble, outlandish and haunting, it emanates from the bowels of its lungs, as vivid ashen light pours from the thing’s throat. The piercing roar is terribly painful. Frantic, I grip my ears, hoping to stave off the excruciation, the pressure threatening to burst my eardrums.

Nico convulses against the torrent of sound, blood welling from his eyes and mouth. His tissue losing consistency… Covering my head, I turn away. I can’t look at it, my panic coming to a boiling point. Hyperventilating, my heart pounding in my chest, my vision growing spotty. Sickening stillness takes the darkening valley. Squinting between my fingers, I see all that remains of Nico, a mound of unidentifiable gore, wet droplets shining in the azure moonlight. That demonic shape stands against the gibbous moon, just a tall silhouette, motionless. It takes a single heavy step towards me, its eyes wide. I feel my body give way, fading, falling to the ground.

Shadow Flesh

Guardian Eyes

Follow The Lines

Broken One