Quinn Shalom Phillips

Ten days after the Revelation Night...

I was dreaming....

I was laughing as I went to the school bus, I loved school, I loved fifth grade, I loved my friends, I loved that we lived in the Tennessee mountains with its lush green forest. Most of all I loved that we no longer lived in the dusty heat of Texas with its mean people. As I skipped down the long drive to our cabin, I didn't care that we couldn't watch tv or turn on a switch to have lights, the forest and mountains made it all worth it.

Today was my 10th birthday, and it was turning out to be the best day ever! School went by fast, but I was so surprised that mom hadn't brought the cookies we decorated last night for my class. I wondered if dad's old truck had broken down again. I would just bring the cookies tomorrow. Mrs. Pence, our bus driver, and mom's old auntie, gave me a bright green bandanna and wished me happy birthday as I got off. Green was my new favorite color. I rushed up the drive to the house. Mom promised to make my favorite cake for dessert, pineapple upside down cake!

I got a cold feeling as I rounded the curve to the house, the door was open, and smoke was drifting out it. I couldn't hear anything except the crickets, whippoorwills, and minahs. I ran as hard as I could to the door. Mom was laying in the kitchen, smoke coming out of the oven, she was covered in blood, so were the counters and walls. Her face almost unrecognizable, her body cut all over. Beau was still in his crib, his throat cut.

I began looking for daddy, screaming for him. Out in his woodshop, he hung from the ceiling beam. He had the same cuts all over his body as mom, but he was naked. He looked like every bone in his body was broken.

I heard the bus crest the hill and knew it was about to pass back by so I ran as hard as I could. Mrs. Pence barely got the bus stopped as I ran in front of it, and she hurriedly came to the house with me. When she saw, she took me back down the mountain.

As I sat in the police station staring at the blood on my hands, the police told Mrs. Pence and I that my daddy killed mom and Beau then himself. I knew it was a lie. The mean people from Texas killed them. Mom's auntie knew it was a lie too, and the next day, we left for another place with mountains called Virginia.

As we drove, she patted my hand, "Now Shalom, I want you to listen very carefully. There are things, people in this world that are very dangerous. Your parents were running from them and if they know you are still alive, they will find you. If anything happens to me, you have to keep moving. Your mother was my great-niece, and that makes you the last of my family here in America. Never tell anyone what happened yesterday, if they ask, tell them your parents died in a car accident when you were a baby and you grew up an orphan. Never forget, sweetheart, the monsters in this world are real, so keep running."

I woke with a start; I was alone with my memories. My Great-aunt Judith died four years after my parents, in a home invasion or so the police report claimed. I found her too. I had a nervous breakdown, started hearing voices, and was put in a foster facility for juveniles with mental problems in Ontario. After I recovered, or rather escaped, I began running and ran for six years until I met Kenneth.

I was working at a cafe in Colorado, getting ready to leave for my yearly summer trek around Europe. He came in everyday until I left. One day, I heard a commotion in an alley in Berlin. A man shouted for help in English, so I ran to help him. It was Kenneth. He was pretty beaten up, but when he looked up at me with those intense Nordic ice blue eyes, I knew I wanted to look into them for the rest of my life.

Now, I would never look into them again. I glanced down at my hands and they were covered in blood, his blood. I jumped out of bed and rushed into the bathroom, scrubbing my skin raw. I didn't want to be crazy again.

A nurse opened the door slowly, "Are you okay, Mrs. Phillips?"

"I'm fine, I just had to go to the bathroom. I... I didn't mean to bother you; you must be busy. I'm sorry." I tried to sound as sane as I could.

The voice in my head was urging me to leave and leave now. This person wasn't to be trusted.

The nurse smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, "Oh no, it's alright. I'm not too busy for you. Do you need something to help you sleep?"

"Uh no, I just woke up and needed to pee. I'm really tired, I'll probably just fall back asleep." Answering with a nervous laugh, as I climbed back in bed. "Sorry to bother you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Phillips." She watched me for a moment, before leaving.

The voice in my head was now shouting that something was very wrong, and I needed to get out of this place right now. I was about to get out of bed when the door opened, I laid very still and breathed slowly. I felt the covers pull away from my arm and the cold swipe of an alcohol swab. Just as she pinched my arm, I grabbed her wrist. She was strong, but I surprised her by kicking her in the stomach, and then stabbed her with the needle. In a moment, she fell across me, unconscious. Shaking and terrified, I stripped her and put her in my bed, then I put on her clothes. Covering her completely, I stood trembling at the door and gathered my courage.

She had dark hair too, so I hope no one paid attention to her face as I opened the door. There were unfamiliar guards at the end of the hall, I just nodded as I went to the nurses' station. I pulled my own chart, but instead of writing anything I took all the pages. I stuffed them into a handbag that was on the floor under the desk. I didn't recognize the guards so I prayed I could slip past them. Sliding the ring off my thumb, I dropped it in my pocket. There was a pack of cigarettes out of the bag. Thankful that people don't take care of their bodies, I walked straight toward the elevator. The guards barely spared me a glance as I waved the pack of cancer sticks at them.

The elevator stopped and two guards got on, so I got off. Walking through an unfamiliar ward looking for the stairs, I saw an elderly lady trying to get out of bed. Another pair of guards were walking toward me giving me the eye, so I just stepped into her room.

"Oh honey, I was just going on break, what can I get you?" I said as sweetly as I could.

My voice said the guards were watching me, and to keep acting like a nurse.

I put the woman back in bed after helping her to the bathroom and gave her a sip of water. I glanced at the chart on the end of her bed and pretended to write something until my voice told me the guards moved on. She fell asleep so I quietly dug through her bag. I felt bad about pick-pocketing the old lady's keys, but I needed a place to hide until I could figure things out. She was having hip replacement surgery tomorrow, so she wouldn't be home for at least a month. Her address revealed to me that I was in Oklahoma City, ten hours from home. When I came out of the room, and started back toward the stairs, the two guards were standing at the nurses' station, eyeing me.

"You're not from this floor," one growled.

I just rolled my eyes at him as I told the nurses that Room 214 was trying to crawl out of bed, but I got her settled after taking her to the bathroom. Then I ask if they had any coffee and creamer I could take up to my floor.

"We're out again." I explained in a grumpy tone.

"I said..."

"I heard you, dumbass, but if you want us working extra hours every night, then nurses need coffee and we're out upstairs." I snapped at him like I'd seen the actress do on Nurse Jackie.

The nurse behind the desk grinned at me, as another pulled some stuff from the area behind a door.

"Don't mind him, he is an ass." She glared at him.

"Then maybe he should be over in proctology," I snarkily added, and both nurses laughed. The rude guard looked pissed as the other smirked.

"Thanks for the bean juice. Ladies... gentleman... ass." I held my head up as I walked toward the elevator. If there was one thing that I learned in my years of living off-grid, it was act like you belong and people will think you do, then you can get away unnoticed.

On the first floor, I just walked out the door as the guard barely glanced at my stolen ID. I saw a bus coming and ran to catch it. The change in the stolen bag paid my fare and the driver was nice enough to tell me how to get to the old woman's address. To him, I was a nurse getting off work who promised to check on a patient's cat. He talked about his grandkids and how he was leaving on vacation as soon as he got off in the morning. I wistfully claimed I envied him his two weeks of camping and ice-fishing. I wished him luck as I got off the bus.

A few blocks later, I let myself into the old lady's condo. I couldn't believe I got away so easily. I almost started laughing out loud, it was like something from a spy movie. I wanted to fall asleep on the couch, but I knew in a few hours someone would discover I was gone. Instead of sleep, I poured myself a shot glass of whiskey. The old lady had stainless steel shot glasses with planes on them. It was peculiar but it kept the whiskey cold without ice.

She had pictures of herself as a pilot that looked like they went back to World War Two and most recently, one that looked like it was taken a few months ago with a granddaughter and great-granddaughter perhaps. As I looked through the memories of a long life, children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, I wanted to cry. Everything I would never have now was preserved on her wall in celluloid.

I choked on the whiskey in the steel shot glass as it slipped past my trembling lips. I felt like I was breaking down as my heart began to pound. Everything started to spin, and I sank to my knees, trying not to succumb to a panic attack. I hadn't had one since the kids were born.

The voice in my head kept telling me to try to breathe slowly, to relax, when all I want to do was run from the pain in my heart. I don't know how long I sat there, but the voice in my mind insisted that I needed to get up, so I did.

Maybe I'm crazy again, but at least I'm not alone. I thought to myself and the voice within laughed.

I took a few changes of clothes, some food, water, and the old lady's whiskey stash. Piling them into my benefactor's very nice luggage, my voice reminded me of something Molly said about werewolves being able to scent each other so I fabreezed myself. I was grateful to whomever invented the scent neutralizing spray.

I was surprised to find the old woman still owned a plane and had it parked at a small municipal airport. I decided to go there, grateful that one of my boyfriends before Kenneth was a crop duster. No one noticed as I drove out of the retirement community two hours before dawn.

The small Cessna was clean and obviously well maintained. There was a picture on the dash. Grandmother, mother, daughter, and granddaughter, all sitting on the wing, grinning. I felt bad for taking the plane, but I needed to get home quickly. Something Kenneth said in his last moments had nagged me since I woke.

'Something with the program went very wrong, they tested it against my recommendation...′

I needed to find his notes. I needed to figure out what he was really working on because whatever it was, it killed him and our children.

VvvvvV

It was noon when I landed at the small municipal airport only ten miles from my house. I was grateful that Colorado's bipolar weather melted the snow off the runway. I flew only 200 feet above the ground the whole way, hoping the terrain would protect me from any radar. The air was freezing as I refueled the plane with a small handpump, just in case. The voice reminded me of something I said many times, something I learned in the mental hospital from another patient.

'Just because you're not paranoid, doesn't mean someone isn't out to get you. Paranoia is a good thing. Paranoia will keep you alive.'

I took a car from the road. It was just sitting there with the door open, keys on the ground next to it and a half tank of gas. I saw no one as I drove to my home, only the dead. I parked behind Kenneth's jeep. The door was still open. His laptop case and carry-on was still on the backseat. I carried them inside and dumped them on the table in the foyer.

Kenneth was laying exactly where I left him. His blood frozen his body to the rug in our dark cold house. My children were laying inside the family room, covered with sheets, someone moved them. Perhaps Gerard and his people. As I looked at them, I realized where I'd seen those kinds of wounds before. It felt like I'd been standing in the same place, looking at the same scene over and over again for my whole life. I couldn't seem to breathe as the realization dragged me down.

Near sunset, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table at the bottom of a bottle of Walker Red. I'd seen this thrice.

'The monsters that killed my children and my husband are the same monsters that killed my parents and baby brother, and later my aunt.'

My voice responded, 'We can be monsters too.'

But I knew I should have kept running. If I hadn't stopped when I met Kenneth, he would still be alive.

VvvvvV

I was surprised I was not completely blackout drunk as I staggered back into the living room to be with my family. I wanted to bury them, but the ground was still frozen, and the voice in my head said the monsters would know I was here if I did. In a tearful, desperate moment, I tried to take off Kenneth's wedding ring, but his frozen finger wouldn't release it. The grotesque graying of his once creamy skin had me vomiting in the kitchen trash bin. I wondered how my life got to this point. I had a good life with him, a normal life. Running just seemed pointless when he promised to keep me safe from the monsters of our world, now he was gone, and I was a monster.

Out the kitchen window, I noticed brown spots on our white fence, I couldn't stop myself from sliding the glass door open. I tossed the bag of vomit into the composter. Turning around slowly, the brown splatter was on the fence, the walls and windows, the taupe winter grass was even stained where we once laid. Only the places where the snow remained held the color of my family's death, dark red.

I couldn't stop the sobs and shaking as I bore witness to my family's last moments written in our blood. Even my bloody handprints pawing on the green house door were still there. The screams that I made were more like anguished howls, but they were my keening as I grieved... I wanted to die.

My voice reminded me of what Kenneth said, 'Something went wrong with the Project.'

I fell asleep in our bed, surrounded by Kenneth's smell and praying not to wake in the morning. That night I dreamed over and over about the night my family died, then about the evening Kenneth tried to explain his work using M&Ms. I awoke restless and disturbed. When I dozed off again, I dreamed about my giant brown beast running through the mountains carrying a red bundle with a baby in it.