Here It Ends

"Get down," William screams, ducking his own head as a large stone is hurled through the back window of the truck.

The rock shatters the windshield before falling to the seat where I had been sitting. William lifts his head again, peering through the broken glass. I see his eyes dancing back toward the rearview mirror which hangs precariously on a web of broken glass. I begin to pull myself back onto the seat.

"Don't move," he says as I yelp in pain.

A sliver of glass has already embedded itself into my index finger. I try to work it out, hearing shards of glass tinkling against each other as I shake the blanket about my shoulders. I can hear my heartbeat screaming in me. I know that one of the dragons must have hurled the stone. They have not caught us yet, but how long will it take for them to catch up to us? What if we run out of gas? What if there are more dragons ahead of us? Always, my life is plagued by the "what ifs".

I feel the truck lurch noticeably and look up at William. His dark hair is plastered to his face by sweat. His eyes are intently glued to the road. His hands almost seem relaxed on the wheel, but I can see the muscles in his arm lurch with tension as he pulls the steering wheel hard to the right again, causing the truck to careen recklessly. I wonder what he is trying to avoid on the road, but I can only see the glittering shards of glass daring me to pull myself up onto the seat, and I do not take their dare.

I am suddenly aware of the sounds of other cars all around us. The roar of William's truck had kept me from noticing before, but now the duller sounds of newer engines are accompanied by the sounds of squealing tires. Unconsciously, I wrap my arms protectively across my chest, feeling the sting of my gouged finger and a thin trickle of blood soaking into the fabric of my shirt. The car lurches again, but this time it is followed by the explosion of metal impacting metal.

William's hand moves swiftly to the gearshift, shifting wildly into reverse, but I know by the look on his face that we are already blocked in. Then something hits us from behind as another explosion erupts from William's side of the truck. The truck lurches again and William throws himself protectively on top of me. I feel the weight and the warmth of him. Then I feel the world shift and tumble, William exhales sharply, gritting his teeth, and I am the one on top.

I find myself looking out of the window at crushed grass spattered with shards of broken glass. In moments, I see shoes, so many pairs of shoes, grinding the glass into the ground as they gather around the truck. I see dress shoes and sneakers, loafers and stilettos. Many of them seem to be splattered with oil. William shifts under me, cradling me in his arms as he tries to turn over.

"Bellabooo, are you okay?" He asks.

I nod and look at his face, curious about the tightly controlled sound of his voice. His skin is ashen and pale like the life has been sucked out of him. He grits his teeth and speaks again, "Good, but I think we still have a fight ahead of us."

I nod again. I can not find the words to respond to him. I feel frozen, trapped by my fear. He leans over me, wrapping his arms around me in a protective embrace.

"Bella, I think you're going to have to make a run for it."

"We..." I respond.

It is the first word I have spoken and it lingers in the air between us. He looks at me and shakes his head.

"No, darling, I can't run, but I hope I can buy you some time."

"No..." I reply.

"Bella," he says and then his eyes widen.

I look over my shoulder to see soulless eyes peering at me. One of the creatures is crouching by the car and reaching for me. I scream. The creature smiles wickedly, its mouth twisting as if it has never smiled before. I feel William grabbing me and pulling me further into his arms, protecting my body with his own. As he cradles me close to his chest, I feel something moist and thick seeping onto me. I try to pull away. He just holds me tighter.

"Hero?" A gruesome parody of a human voice croaks from the creatures throat, "I will go through you if I must, but that child is mine."

"She is more mine than she will ever be yours," another voice croaks from behind him.

These voices chill my blood. I look up to William's face which is now transformed by another form of agony--the agony that precedes defeat. I imagine this must be the look that crossed his face only last night as he spoke of losing his daughter and son. I feel the fear again, freezing me and I try to pull away from him, willing him to find a way out of this, for himself if not for me.

"Bella, no, you can't give into them," he says, leaning forward to whisper in my ear.

"She already belongs to us" the voice taunts him and as I look up at him, long fingers stroke his hair gently, "Just as you already belong to Death."

The long fingers trail down his cheek, almost caressing in a gruesome imitation of affection. Then they are wrapped around his throat. His arms let go of me for a moment as he grabs the hands and pulls them from his throat. Short, sharp nails dig into his skin, leaving moon-shaped scars. Somehow he manages to fight this one off, but I feel hands touching my face as he turns back to me. My skin feels cold and dirty from that single touch.

He pulls the blanket over me then. I feel him nudging me forward into the throng of things that peers into the crumpled cab of the truck. I push back, but he pushes again and I feel the weight of his body crouching over me.

"The only way out is through," he says into my ear.

"There's no way out. She belongs..."

The litany ends with the sickening sound of shattering bone as I feel William's weight shift above me. I am crawling under the blanket, hurried on by the feel of his knees pressing against the soles of my shoes. The only protection the blanket promises is the protection from being touched by cold, dirty hands, but I refuse to let it go. My knees are suddenly shuffling along a softer surface. I peer down at crumpled green grass with shimmering glass diamonds strewn upon it. I feel William trying to stand up, but then his posture changes and I hear the sound of him falling to the ground beside me.

With the protective barrier of William's body gone, I feel chilled. I stand up, barely feeling the glass shards digging into my bare feet as I clutch the blanket and turn to look for him. One of the creatures has pulled him over and is tearing at his face with her long, red-tipped, manicured fingers. He is trying to fend her off, but his strength seems gone. The pallor of his face has deepened since I last looked at it or the sunlight makes it appear so.

"Bella, you have to..." he says as something whizzes through the air.

All I can see is blood, his blood, the only red blood to be found besides my own. I scream. I scream again. The screams keep coming and my reason flees. I throw myself on him, willing him to be okay but feeling helpless. Then the hands are reaching for me again. Those cold, dirty hands are pulling at the blanket, trying to bundle me up and I am wrapping my arms around William's neck, wanting him to hold me reassuringly.

I am cuddling close to his chest and refusing to look at his face where blood still flows. I can smell it, and it comforts me somehow that it is blood not something darker and unexplainable like viscous evil. His warmth has not yet left him, and I find myself pressing closer to it, seeking comfort in this heat. My comfort can not last. I know this as the hands continue to try to disengage me.

"Mine. Mine at last."

The voices are a chorus. I shiver as I feel my grip loosening and the heat of my protector slowly fading away.