“Do you want me to st—”
She leans forward, kissing me. Her tongue is no longer timid, it’s strong and insistent, full of need. She pulls me into her. I groan with how good it feels. I was worried I wouldn’t know what to do, but it’s like my body knows. I try to be gentle, but the way she’s grabbing onto me, the way our bodies seem to fit together in perfect symmetry is more than I can bear. Together, we’re striving for something higher than ourselves. We’re all tangled up in each other to the point where I’m not sure where I end and she begins. It’s like we’re one person. One entity, moving in time.
Every care, every worry vanishing—I feel myself disappearing into her. Everything’s building … mounting … yearning. And in one moment, an explosion of images race through my mind—her black eyes, her body slick with blood when she climbed out of the cow, the dead cat clutched to her lips—but I can’t stop. I keep going, moving inside of her, until there’s nothing left of me. A flurry of blood and darkness and desire and need. Life and death in a single impulse.
I rest on top of her, afraid to move … afraid to look at her. I’m embarrassed by the thoughts that ran through my head, but when she strokes the back of my head and whispers, “I love you,” I know it’s okay … that this is real. It’s Ali. It’s me.
I’m taking her in, every bit of her smell, her sweat, her breath when I feel her stomach grumble. I laugh into her shoulder as I collapse next to her. She lets out a gentle sigh as she turns onto her side. She’s asleep.
I slip out of bed and pull on my jeans. I didn’t think I lasted all that long, but the sky’s getting dark now.
Ali’s stomach growls again. She stirs, but still doesn’t wake.
I kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll find you something to eat.”
I go downstairs to the kitchen, and flip on the light switch, but there’s no power. I pick up the phone—the line’s dead, too. That’s weird.
I look at the bills fixed to the refrigerator. It seems like we’re caught up, but who knows how long Mom’s been slipping.
It doesn’t even matter. As soon as I deal with Jess’s funeral arrangements, get Mom the help she needs, I’m selling this place. Lock, stock, and barrel. I don’t owe my ancestors shit. I know Noodle won’t understand, but she’ll get over it. Maybe Ali and I will take her all the way out to California. Jess always talked about wanting to go there. I can just see Ali and Noodle playing in the surf, making sand castles.
I catch my reflection in the glass door of the cabinet—my goofy-ass smile. Despite everything, all this tragedy, I’m happy. We’re finally clear of this. There’s nothing but blue skies ahead.
I open the cabinets to find they’re barren. Just some stale saltines and a little bit of peanut butter left. This’ll have to do. I place the items on a plate and grab a knife.
As I head back toward the banister, I hear the buzzing. I want to ignore it, but it’s so loud now. How did I not hear it before? As soon as I step into the living room, my knees buckle.
The wall above the mantle is a quivering black mass, but it’s not random anymore. The flies are in a perfect formation of the cross that once hung there. The cross my father used to kill the cattle.
I drop the plate of food and clasp my hands over my ears, but I can still hear them. It’s not just buzzing … it sounds like they’re saying something, whispering. I listen closer.
“He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming,” over and over and over again, like a drone. This is what my mother was hearing … it was real.
“This can’t be happening. We did the exorcism. The Devil’s been banished from this place.” I stagger out of the room, searching for the flyswatter, when I hear Ali scream.
Running upstairs, my heart stutters as I enter my room. Ali’s huddled in the corner, a blood-smeared sheet wrapped around her, sweat covering her sallow face.
“What happened?” I ask as I edge toward her. “Did I do this to you?”
“I don’t know.” She’s panting. “But something’s wrong.”
What is it?” I crouch in front of her.
Slowly, she pulls back the sheet to expose her swollen and stretched stomach.
“What the hell?” I collapse back on my heels.
“Clay,” she says in terror as she reaches out for my hand. “There’s something inside me … something alive. Feel it.”
Tentatively, I let her place my palm against her stomach. The moment I make contact with her skin, I feel something pound against my hand.
Ali screams out in pain.
“I … I don’t understand.” I scoot back.
She lets out a guttural moan as her stomach rolls and heaves.