Ravenous (Book 1 The Ravening Series)

Chapter 4


We slipped through the shadows of the buildings, Cade moving with easy grace and a silence that was astonishing. I wasn’t quiet or graceful, but at least I wasn’t a blundering idiot. Not this time anyway. I followed him as we made our way through the streets. I did not feel the rumbling approach of those monstrous things, but I kept alert for any sign of their return, or any sign of something else coming for us.
The streets were not as cluttered with people now. I did not know what they did with the bodies when they were done with them, but thankfully they did not leave them behind. Guilt filled me for feeling relieved about the disappearance of the frozen people, but I couldn’t handle seeing their broken remains cluttering the street. Not on top of everything else.
Cade slipped around a corner; my heart picked up a beat as he momentarily disappeared from sight. He was waiting for me when I turned the corner, his long fingered hand stretched behind him to hold me back.
I stopped, my breath trapped within me as I strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. It was unnaturally still in the fading light of day. I wondered if the aliens had retreated to their ships for the night, or if they would be returning soon to start collecting the people still within their homes, and stores.
Cade moved forward again. We made our way out of the center of town, slipping into backyards, staying to the woods as we swept through the shadows with more speed. Excitement and trepidation hammered through me as we neared my house. I didn’t know what to expect, I tried not to get my hopes up too much, but it was impossible.
I almost broke into a run when my house finally came into view, but Cade held me back, his arm encircling my waist as he kept a tight grip on me. “Getting yourself killed won’t do you, or your family, any good.”
I nodded, biting on my bottom lip as I ignored the strange sensations his touch aroused in me. Or at least tried to ignore them. It was impossible. My body tingled with unfamiliar currents of electricity when his fingers momentarily brushed over the bare skin exposed by the slight uplifting of my t-shirt. I forced myself to focus on something other than him, now most certainly was not the time to be thinking about this stuff.
My house looked ominous in the fading light. It appeared empty, cold, and dark. My home was never dark. Abigail was forever turning on lights, but she always forgot to turn them off. It wasn’t unusual to come home and find every light in the house blazing brightly, spilling from the windows, and lighting the night like a homing beacon. My mother and Aiden were constantly lecturing Abby to turn the lights back off; I remained silent on the matter. Though I never said it, I secretly liked the welcoming warmth of the lights when I came home. There had been enough darkness in our lives, I wasn’t about to tell Abby that she should keep the house dark too.
The complete absence of them now was enough to make me want to cry.
“Cade,” I breathed, choked by the lump in my throat.
“They wouldn’t turn the lights on Bethany, not tonight.” I wanted to find solace in his words, but there was none. It was too dark, too quiet. I didn’t want to go in there, I had to. “Come.”
He entwined his fingers with mine, pulling me slowly through the trees. We moved swiftly across the street, darting around to the back. For the first time I realized just how rundown my home had become. Paint was peeling off in flakes; the back porch sagged beneath the weight of years and weather. I was overwhelmed by sadness; a sense of helplessness filled me.
I crept up the stairs, wincing when they squeaked beneath my weight. My heart hammered as I twisted the knob and pushed the door slowly open. I didn’t know what to expect, I was terrified of what I would find. The hinges creaked, the kitchen floor groaned slightly as I stepped inside. The familiar scent of my mom’s perfume, food, and scented candles washed over me. In the dim light I could make out the tidy kitchen counters. I could see the outline of pictures, report cards, and magnets that covered the fridge. Plants hung in the window over the sink, dishes were stacked neatly in the dish drain.
It was my home, and for the first time it felt cold and lonely. Vacant.
I made my way slowly through the kitchen. Though there was enough light to guide me, I moved mostly on instinct through the darkening rooms. Cade followed as I crept cautiously up the stairs. “Mom.” I was afraid to speak too loud in the foreboding silence. “Mom.”
I heard the choked tears in my voice, the slight note of panic that was clearly audible. We reached the top of the steps, the house remained completely hushed. I swallowed heavily, forcing myself to speak louder. “Mom?”
“Bethany.” I jumped slightly, startled by the response. I had truly believed that I was never going to receive one. Cade placed a hand in the small of my back, steadying me before I crashed into the banister. “Bethy?”
“Abby?”
There was a soft shuffling noise and then my little sister appeared in the doorway of our mom’s bedroom. Relief filled me, a small cry escaped as my knees nearly gave out. And then I was moving, running, fighting back tears of joy as I grasped hold of her. At fifteen, she was only two years younger than me, but she seemed much younger. Maybe it was her far more petite, and delicate build, but I felt it had more to do with her innocent, youthful air. She was nowhere near as jaded as I was.
Her small arms wrapped around me, clinging tight as she sobbed against my shirt. “Oh Bethy I was so scared! I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t leave her,” she moaned.
I closed my eyes, my heart breaking as Abby confirmed my horrifying fear that our mother had not been as lucky as us. I could barely breathe, but holding Abby gave me a sense of strength that I hadn’t felt until this moment. I had to be strong for her; I had to keep her safe. No matter what, I had to make sure that she survived. “Aiden?”
Abby shook her head, her coffee colored hair fell about her shoulders in a tumbling mass of long curls. “I don’t know, he went to see Bret earlier but he hasn’t come back.”
My hands tightened on her as I clung to her, taking solace in the fact that at least she was still moving, still ok. If Aiden was able to move he would come back here as soon as he could. Bret’s house was farther away than the antique store; it would take Aiden longer if he decided to wait for nightfall too. If he wasn’t still moving then I would find him at Bret’s, but I was in no hurry to rush out of here. Not right now. I was heartbroken, tired, and I wanted to see my mom. “Where is she?”
Abby nodded toward our mother’s bedroom, but it was obvious that she didn’t want to return to it. She was shaking, terrified, and unlike me there were tears coursing rapidly down her face. I ached for her, she had probably spent the entire day standing guard over our mother, terrified and confused. And completely alone. I didn’t blame her for not wanting to return, she’d done enough already.
“Stay here,” I said as I gently squeezed her shoulder.
I moved past her, creeping into my mom’s room. The room was dark, but I saw her instantly. She was sitting on the bed, her head bowed over the papers spread out before her. Her reading glasses were in place, a pen was clasped between her lips. Her dark hair had been pulled into a lose bun that hung against her slender neck. The resemblance between her and Abby was unmistakable. They both had elfin, striking features, dark hair, and a petite physique. Abby and my mother had always reminded me of delicate faeries. I often felt awkward and out of place around them due to my clumsiness and larger build, a part of me was convinced I would accidentally hurt them one day. I was slender like them, but taller than and not as dark, as Aiden and I had inherited our dad’s height and honey blond hair.
“Mom,” I whispered, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. She did not respond, did not even blink. I moved closer to her, shoving aside the papers as I slid onto the bed. I had seen her in this exact same position many times before, but this was the first time I had ever felt out of place and frightened. I touched her cheek lightly, her skin was still warm, but it was cooler than it should have been. That man had still been alive, she had to be also, I hoped. Sadness filled me; I choked on my misery. “Oh mom.”
I bowed my head to hers, resting it against her bent head. I was trying hard not to lose complete control, not to turn into a sobbing mess, but I wasn’t sure I could keep my sanity through this whole catastrophe. I felt Cade’s presence in the room, sensed his dark gaze focused upon me before I saw him.
I lifted my head, my hand lingering upon my mother’s cheek as I turned to him. I wanted to take strength in his gaze but I was lost, adrift, and terrified that I had just lost the only parent I had left. “What do we do?” I asked quietly.
“We survive.” They were cold words, and yet the tone that issued them was not cold. It was sad, understanding, and sympathetic. It was also resilient and unwavering. “Because we have to, because it is what she would want you to do.”
“I can’t leave her here.”
“I know.” I turned away from him, unable to form words or opinions at the moment. “We won’t. I have to go somewhere right now though.”
My head snapped around, my mouth dropped. I released my mom’s still hand as I slid limply off the bed and took a step toward him. “Where?” I managed to choke out.
“I have to go to my house. There are some things I need to do.”
I was confused by this sudden turn of events. I hadn’t expected him to leave us here, but of course there would be things that he would need to do. Things that he would have to check on, or want. I didn’t know where he lived now, or who he lived with, if anyone. He was most likely on his own now, he was eighteen after all. “Of course.”
“I’ll be back.” I barely managed a nod. I could only manage to keep breathing through the tightness in my chest. “Soon.”
“We… we could come with you.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll move faster by myself and Aiden could still return. You have to stay here.”
“But…”
He broke off my protest. “You have to stay with your mother Bethany, and you have to see if your brother returns. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. My place is only half a mile from here. I’ll be safe in the woods.”
I was surprised to learn he lived so close. Cade had bounced around so much over the years that it had been hard to keep track of where he was living at any given time. “What if you don’t come back?” I whispered. “What if something happens to you and I could have helped to stop it? Abby can wait for Aiden.” Even as I said the words I knew that Abby wouldn’t want to be alone here anymore, and I couldn’t leave her again.
“There are more of those things out there than there is of us now Bethany. Their technology is better, they planned this, and they have the upper hand. I don’t think there’s anything either of us could do to stop them right now. Besides, you don’t want to leave your sister again.”
“You’re not safe out there Cade, you can’t go alone.”
He was before me now, having moved steadily closer throughout the conversation. I had to tilt my head back to take all of him in. His eyes and hair blended in with the night, giving the eerie impression that he was a part of the darkness that he relished in it, and was far more at home in it than any other person would be. His handsome features were half hidden in shadow, his full mouth pinched tight. I was breathless as he reached out to push the hair gently back from my shoulders. His fingers stroked lightly over my cheek, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as he lingered upon my skin. My mouth parted slightly in wonder, my face tilted instinctively into his soft caress. I didn’t know what was going on, what he intended, until his mouth was against mine.
And then, I just didn’t care anymore.
In the beginning his lips were warm, soft yet firm, as they pressed lightly against mine. And then his mouth was more demanding, and his hand was harder upon me as he pulled me closer to him. I was caught up in the warmth and pleasure of his kiss, ensnared within the whirlwind of emotions and desire that sprang forth. I was engulfed by the tempest his exquisite, desperate kiss created.
I didn’t know what he was desperate for, but I sensed the full force of that desperation beneath the rolling wonder, joy, and passion that swirled rapidly between us, escalating higher and higher until I was certain that it was going to consume us both. I found I didn’t care if it did. I only wanted to ease the intense need I sensed simmering so fiercely beneath his calm facade.
Why he would need or want me, I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Not right now. I was too entangled in the wonderful sensations encompassing me to care. He pressed tighter against me. His arm encircled my waist as he lifted me against him, holding me firm. I was lost, adrift in him. I had never felt like this before, never experienced something so fantastic, and joyous, and right. And it was so very right; it was as if everything in the world, no matter how awful and horrible it was, would be ok. I had found a place to belong, a place of safety within his arms. As long as I was here, and he was here, I would survive. We would survive.
Then something else began to happen. Something within my mind began to unravel, opening slowly before me like a morning glory to the light of daybreak. Memories spilled forth, engulfing me as they spiraled rapidly beyond my control. Memories that I had long ago buried because that was where I preferred them. Memories of that horrible day. A day that, until this one, I had never thought could be topped as far as fear and devastation went.
I had been trapped, upside down, pinned by the twisted metal of the car. Stuck within the backseat I could do nothing more than stare at the broken body of my father in front of me. In the beginning he had been awake, he had asked about me, he had worried about me, but as time dragged on, and more blood was lost, he’d grown silent.
It had been awful, horrendous. So awful in fact that I had been too numb to cry, too engulfed by misery to fully understand what was going on. I was only nine, the most I knew of death was the small ceremonies we’d held to bury our pets in the backyard. I didn’t know much of death, but I knew the exact moment when my father left me. I knew the man I loved more than anything was not coming back to me, and I still did not cry. I had been trapped within that wreck for hours, unable to break free no matter how hard I tried before they found us.
It had taking another hour for the rescuers to free me from the car. For that hour they had draped a sheet over my father, not to protect me from seeing him, it was too late for that. They had done it because they were unable to handle the sight of his ruined body, especially in front of his oddly silent, eerily calm, and somewhat unnerving young daughter.
I didn’t cry that day, or the three that followed it. I didn’t speak either. I did not talk about what I had seen, what it had been like to be imprisoned, unable to break free, while I listened to the sound of my father’s blood dripping against the roof. I did not talk about the fact that his small moans of agony, moans that he had tried to stifle from me, haunted my every moment. I did not mention the awful silence and agony that had engulfed me when those moans had stopped. I was left with only the endlessly dripping blood, and the horrifying realization that my father was gone. I had been unable to tell him that I loved him just once more before he left me. I told no one about any of it, not even my mother, who even through her own grief and anguish was more concerned about my wellbeing, than her own.
That was the main reason I didn’t cry. I did not want her to know how badly I was hurt, how haunted and tormented I was. I wanted her to believe that I was strong, that I would be ok. I wanted her to believe that no matter what had happened she wouldn’t have to worry about me too. I was fine. I was brave. I would survive, no matter how distraught, terrified, and broken I really was.
It wasn’t until the day of the funeral that I finally cried, and thankfully my mother had not been there to see it. But Cade had.
The funeral had been over. I was still wearing the small black dress my mother had picked out for me. Abby and Aiden, also dressed in black, had not been as stoic as me throughout the ceremony. They had wept openly. It was a fact that was not missed by most people and at the reception after I was the main topic of conversation. Though they whispered, and thought they were keeping their words from me, I was not as gone as they seemed to think I was. I did not catch it all, but I caught enough to know that their hushed words, and fearful tones were not truly heartfelt, but merely more gossip for them to banter about. Was there something wrong with me? Had the accident ruined me? Had I always been a cold child? Had they somehow managed to miss my oddness until now, when it was so blatantly obvious?
I’d slipped out of the house, eager to escape the oppressive heat of the house and their phony concern. There was a large, beautiful garden to the right of the house that my mom had been forced to sell the following year. The garden had been my mother’s pride and joy, filled with flowers, strange plants, and wonderful smells. In the far back corner there had been a wooden bench tucked beneath the boughs of a giant willow. It was that bench that I made my way to.
I sat there for a long time, my hands folded before me as I watched bees buzzing lazily about, and butterflies flitting from here to there. I tried not to think about anything, struggled not to break under the weight of my mourning as it threatened to consume me. I don’t know how long I sat there before I felt the presence of someone else. I lifted my head, blinking against the bright light of the sun that had drifted lower in the sky. It took a few moments to make out the young boy that had wandered into the garden; surprise filled me as I recognized Cade.
Up until a couple of years ago Cade had been good friends with Aiden. I had always liked him. Unlike Aiden’s other friends he had never tried to push me away, never called me names, and had not found me annoying, or tried to ditch me. He’d always invited me to play with them, always been kind and gentle. He exhibited endless patience with me, even when he’d taught me how to fish and I had insisted on throwing them all back. Aiden had vehemently protested it. Cade had simply done as I’d asked without a word of complaint and an understanding smile that had melted my young heart.
Then, when I was seven and Cade was eight, his parent’s were killed in a home robbery gone wrong. Cade had been fortunate enough to be at a friend’s house when the murders occurred. He was placed into foster care after, and though he still lived in our town he had no longer lived near us. His friendship with Aiden ended abruptly after, and he’d stopped coming to our house nearly every day. He became distant and unfriendly toward us as he took to moving coldly, and methodically, through his life. At his parent’s funeral the caring friend I’d known, and loved, had ignored me when I tried to convey my sympathy over his awful loss. I’d tried to speak to him twice after that, but he’d walked right past me. Wounded and confused, I had given up trying after that.
And then, two years later, Cade with two parents gone and me with one, was suddenly standing before me again. He was taller than the last time he’d been at my house, lankier, and already becoming one of the most handsome and sought after boys in school. And yet, that was not the person standing before me in the garden. This person was different. This person was not just a mere boy, not anymore. For the first time I understood that though Cade still looked like a boy, he had long ago stopped being one. He had, in fact, become a man two years ago when his parents were so cruelly ripped away from him. Fate had seen fit to spare him, but longing and pain lingered within his surprisingly wise eyes.
For the first time I understood why Cade no longer smiled and laughed and talked and played with us anymore. For the first time I understood that though I may do those things again someday, I would never do them in the same way that I had done them just four days ago. For the first time, I understood that though Abby and Aiden had also lost a parent, they did not share what Cade and I did. They did not have to live with the burden of having been spared, when they should have died. My siblings would never wish that they had been home too, so maybe they could have done something to stop it like Cade did. They would never wish that they had been able to warn our dad about the deer sooner, before it had been too late to stop the car. They would never feel guilt over being the ones to survive, when they shouldn’t have. When we shouldn’t have. They did not share what Cade and I did, they never would. They never could, and I was immensely grateful for that fact as I would never want them to.
Cade sat beside me, silent in the fading light of what had been a beautiful early summer day. We did not speak as an hour, and then two, slipped by. The sunset lit up the sky with a myriad of beautiful colors that should have been uplifting, but somehow only made me sadder. My father would never see such a beautiful sunset again. I should not be here to see it, but I was.
Seeming to sense my growing distress, Cade’s long fingers slid into mine. His strong, young hand clasped upon mine, holding me tight. Something began to ease inside of me. I felt at home, I did not feel so ashamed and devastated with him beside me, holding me. For the first time in days I did not feel guilty, was not consumed by self-hatred, did not close my eyes and see the broken body of my father. The nightmares that caused me to wake, screaming soundlessly every night, did not even seem so bad at the moment. With him holding my hand I did not feel like I was going to fall apart, shattering like a dropped piece of glass if I moved the wrong way. For the first time, I almost felt a small measure of peace again.
“It’s ok to cry.” His voice was soft as the remains of the sun slipped over the horizon.
And for the first and last time, I did. I did not sob loudly, did not fall completely apart. Did not scream and rail against the heavens, or fate, as I had feared every second of the past few days I would. Instead I wept silently as all the pain and shame poured steadily from me. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against his side. Cradling my head gently he did not tell me to stop, did not tell me that it would all be alright, did not offer me the same false words that everyone else had over the past few days. He simply held and comforted me in a way that I had never been held, or comforted, before.
It was dark before my tears finally subsided and I lay spent against him. I could feel the hard press of his ribs against my cheek; hear the hard knock of his heart. The crickets were out, an owl hooted somewhere in the distance, and though it was growing cooler neither of us moved. I needed him, needed his understanding, needed to know that I was not as hated as I felt. In those moments, I needed him more than I had ever needed anything in my life. I was not going to be the first one to pull away.
It was another hour before my front door opened and light spilled across the large front porch. People had been steadily leaving all day, but no one had noticed us under the gentle branches of the willow tree. There were still a few cars in the drive, but I knew that it was not one of their owners stepping outside now.
“Bethany! Bethy are you out here!?” I wanted to stay hidden away, wanted to remain secure in Cade’s arms all night. The last thing I wanted was to return to that house, with all of its loving memories, reminders of things lost, and enclosed spaces. “Bethany where are you!?”
It was the edge of hysteria in her voice that slowly roused me from my gentle cocoon of understanding and support. She had just lost her husband, and she was terrified that she was losing me. I hadn’t understood it at the time, but my mother had known I was standing on a thin precipice that was about to crumble from beneath me. She had feared she would lose me forever, and she hadn’t known how to stop it from happening. Only Cade had.
“Bethany!” Her voice broke, the ‘any’ part of my name came out as more of a sob then a shout.
“Here mom!” I called, unable to bear the thought of her crying again, at least not over me. Though, she had already cried plenty of times for me. “I’m right here!”
“Where?”
“The garden. I’ll be right in!”
She didn’t call for me again, but she didn’t go inside either. She stood in the doorway, waiting patiently for her wayward, broken child. Cade squeezed my hand gently; I sensed the loss that filled him, the regret and sorrow that captured him. He wrapped his hand around the back of my head. Pulling me to him, he kissed my forehead lightly, and with a note of goodbye that caused the last of my tears to fall.
“One day Bethany the nightmares will not plague you, the hurt will not be all encompassing, and you will be able to breathe again. It does get better, I can promise you that much.”
I nodded; he was the first person that had told me this that I actually believed. I put faith in his words because he knew, he understood more than anyone else could how I felt. And over time, through the therapy my mom forced me into, and because of the enduring love of my family, friends, and my own growing understanding of the world and myself, things had gotten better. Just as he had promised they would. But back then, his promise was the only thing I had to count on in those early hours, days, and weeks. The only thing I had to cling to in order to keep some grip on the world surrounding me, in order to keep on breathing.
“Bethany!” my mom called again, impatience and worry evident in her voice.
“I have to go.” He nodded, pulled me close to him and kissing me ever so softly again but this time on the mouth. I stared at him in awe, my lips trembling as I was jolted by the impact of his warm lips upon mine. I had just received my first kiss, and it had been so wonderfully sweet and uplifting. It had been everything I had ever dreamed it would be, even on that hideously dark night. “Goodnight Cade.”
He managed a small smile; his dark eyes gleamed in the rising moonlight as he released me. My legs were shaking from his lingering effect upon me as I made my way out from under the tree. “Goodbye Bethany,” I thought I heard him whisper.
When I glanced back I could just barely make him out upon the bench, watching me as I walked to the house. Over the next few weeks I kept expecting him to reappear, I would even go to the garden and wait for him, but he never did. I would see him in school, but I was too shy to approach him after being rebuked before, and he did not approach me. Then, as time slipped by, and the normal routine of life once again took hold, I stopped waiting for him to reappear, and eventually forgot about that night.
Until now.
And now I was swarmed by the memory, the feelings, the emotions, the loss, and the peace that he had given me on that long ago night. And I was once again crying.