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But then I sensed movement. It was Emma, stabbing the monster over and over in the back.
She kept yelling “Git!” She might’ve been hollering at a bear.
Her attack reverberated through its body to mine. But the monster didn’t feel anything, all her thrusting the mere pricks of a mosquito.
I felt its mouth on my neck. It grunted in frustration, pulled away. I sucked in a blessed gulp of air, but wasted it on a scream when the thing tugged my coat down like an eager lover to reveal my shoulders.
It leaned into me. Its mouth was so close, I saw the fine lines of its cracked and blackened lips.
And then it screeched. The thing abruptly pulled away, fury distorting its face. It looked like a demon, furious and raging.
It shoved me away and I stumbled, catching myself before I fell into the fire.
The monster spun on Emma. She shrieked, and it was a surreal sound, bright and trilling like a scream from a bad horror movie.
My mind raced. Something had stopped it. Something Emma did had angered it.
I remembered a conversation from what felt a lifetime ago. Proctor Amanda’s words: A stake through the heart does ’em in. That bit’s true enough.
I ran toward her. The thing clutched her as it had me, but now an intense rage fueled its hunger. It gripped her savagely, spasmodically clenching her body and tugging her clothes.
She tried to stab the monster, but that only enraged it. It swatted her arm and the knife went flying.
It landed somewhere in the dark perimeter of our little camp, and I bounded after it. Dropping to my knees, I hunted for it. Though I’d taken off my gloves to eat, I didn’t feel the cold, even as my bare fingers raked through frozen dirt and muddy snow.
All I knew were Emma’s whimpers and the horrifying noises the creature made. Its humming growl a sound of anticipation.
I felt the knife, and made the craziest laugh-cry sound. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. ”
The handle was thick, but my fingers and palm found their place, nestling perfectly along the slope, like coming home. The weight of it was foreign, and I wriggled my wrist to get used to the feel.
I sprang back up.
The monster had Emma pinned on the ground. Her legs were kicking slowly now. I hoped I wasn’t too late.
A stake through the heart.
I had to hope a hunting knife would work just as well.
I realized calm had washed over me. Focus replaced fear. I was a machine and I would kill this thing.
I surveyed the creature’s back. I tracked spine and ribs, its figure gnarled and knotty with age. With death. This thing had been human once.
I eyed its left side. Estimated where the heart might be. And I lunged.
“You fucked with the wrong girls,” I screamed, plunging the knife in over and over. The shock of stabbing something of flesh and blood reverberated up my arm.
The thing squealed, a shrill, high-pitched sound like a stuck pig. It rose, slapping at its body, lurching drunkenly. There was a jerk-jerk of its body, and it stumbled.
The fire. We stood close to it. I leapt toward the creature and shoved it. It felt like a brittle thing now, splintery and light. Ready to be dust and ashes.
“Burn. ” I shoved it onto the flames. It shrieked, twitching and seizing as the meager orange flames licked at its skin. Its rags began to smolder, skin crackling like our rabbit on the spit.
My first kill.
My belly lurched, threatening to toss my dinner back up. I swallowed convulsively until the feeling passed. Because something primitive had clicked to life in the back of my brain. I needed to keep my food down. I needed to put the gloves back on my hands. I needed to push aside repulsion and dry myself by the corpse-fueled fire.
Because it was all about survival.
