Headlights(120)

I don’t hear what Dad says to them. Ringing too loud. I feel terrible. Dad runs his hands over his head and watches them wheel me back.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was crying too.

VOOM.

I gasp, on hands and knees in the snowy dark. Try to clear the ringing from my ears.

That memory, the one that keeps clawing its way out of nowhere. Mom, and me, at the park. BC Powder.

Aspirin?

Chemical smell. Bitter.

Root beer. Dad and Mom and—

Jack Murphy in his garage. It’s crazy what you’d do to protect them. Anything. I mean, any— Calvin Keller in jail. That woman was poison.

My Bad Feeling that night at the Happy Inn. The root beer bottles on the counter.

Mom. You and me, we’re gonna go somewhere he can’t find us, okay? Somewhere safe and happy where he’ll never get us again.

Protect.

I look up at the creature, understanding hitting me all at once.

No. It can’t be true. It can’t …

But of course it is. I see it. Remember it now. Maybe I always understood. Maybe some part of me always knew.

My mom tried to kill us both, I think. Because she was scared. Because she wanted to get away from my dad.

She—

My singing stopped her the first time. In the river.

My dad stopped her the second, at the Happy Inn.

Dad hit us, and she didn’t think we could escape him. Unless we left this world altogether.

My mom tried to kill me.

My mom—

The Witchwalker …

It had access to these memories before I did.

Humans. Pain. Fear. Violence.

Violence, in order to protect. Death, in order to defend.

Protect.

Dizzy. Ears ringing. Blood loss. I’m … it’s hard. To keep thinking.

The creature steps closer.

And a voice calls out, from somewhere far away.

I turn, try to hold on to sight. Light shining, moving away from the motel.

Dizzy.

I blink.

Hannah.

Hannah, coming toward me. Hannah, in the night. Her hair shining, green eyes, her light so bright.

The dark, pulling.

Hannah, I say. Think. Send and feel. Stay back from the Witchwalker. Stay— She doesn’t listen. She comes to us, runs through the dark to my side. The creature stays where it is, watches.

She’s here. She’s okay. I collapse down to my hands and knees, can’t hold myself up anymore. She’s okay.

Hannah drops down beside me. Both of us here in the falling snow, in the dark.

I couldn’t find you, she says, thinks. I was looking, and I couldn’t— She reaches for my face, my neck. She pulls me to her, kisses me hard, and I feel her warmth. She’s really here. I lean against her.

Did he hurt you? I ask, think. Did the knife get you?

She shakes her head against me. Daniel, hang in there, okay? Your signal is thin. You have to— My body feels weak. I lean against her, hold on to her as tight as I can. And I can feel her seeing everything I just saw, being given the same transmission. From me. From the creature. I don’t know. She stiffens, pulls back to take in the creature next to us.

Her eyes on the thing that has been stalking her. The thing that has made her face her past again and again.

Somewhere far off, I can hear, feel sirens. Back through the motel, back in our world. I think Josie’s hurt. Jack is dead. Father Sky … I don’t know.

Protect.

It came and took us from the motel when we were in danger. It’s been trying to talk to us for so long. Has attached itself to us. That’s what Father Sky said.

The Witchwalker isn’t leaving. It won’t go, and it won’t stop killing because humans will never stop building. Humans will never stop working to shape the earth into what they want it to be.

I don’t know what to do. The dark, it’s …

How do we stop this? I ask Hannah.

She looks at me, down to the blood pouring from my leg. The blood in my mouth. Dizziness hits again, and I lean forward, press my forehead to hers.

We have to get you back, Hannah says. Get to a hospital.

All of this will continue, I say. It doesn’t want to go. I can’t make it stop. Killing, more death. We can’t draw it back there.

Protect.

We can both feel it. It doesn’t want to go.

Home.

My vision is getting darker. Harder to see Hannah’s face. My ears ringing, like when I was a kid.

Hannah, who understands and knows every part of me, who doesn’t turn away.

I say, Go back. The dark spreading in my vision, the dizziness. We haven’t known each other long, and some part of my brain registers that. But they’re the easiest words in the world.

I love you, Hannah.

She pulls back, holds my face in her hands. I blink her back into focus, cling to the image of her against the dark. She kisses me.

There’s so much in it, it’s everything. I’m dizzy, the ringing so loud. But … Hannah. Her lips on mine. Her hands on my face. Tears on her cheeks.

I blink, try to understand. Hannah crying.

Hannah pulling back from me. Hannah standing.

Good, I say. Go back to the motel. Safe.

She turns to the creature before us, and her light starts to shine so bright.

Crackling, static. Transmissions coming through. Thoughts from Hannah. Images.