IN THE FORESTS OF THE NIGHT | Wayne Kyle Spitzer-3
701 Words
“What I can’t figure is, how they even got in,” I was saying, as I stared at the muddy prints. “I mean. I know they opened doors in Jurassic Park, but, come on.”
Naomi blushed and shrunk, noticeably. “Yeah— well. That would be me. I’d been trying to air the house out, see, before you showed up, and had propped open a side door—and I guess I forgot all about it. Sorry.”
“It’s all right, no one got hurt. It’s just ...” I tilted my chin, still studying the tracks. “But look how close they got—they had us completely surrounded.” I shook my head. “I could have sworn it was a dream. Whatever. It’s not quite daylight. If we leave now we can reach San—”
“Leave, now?” She looked at me as though I’d slapped her. “What are you talking about?”
I must have just stared at her. “San Rafael. I’m talking about San Rafael. I mean, we can’t very well—”
“I’m not going to San Rafael,” she laughed—and turned to leave before whipping back around. “Why would you even say that? I’m staying right here, where—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—”
“Sorry ...”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean, you’re kidding, I know you are. Those were deinonychuses, Naomi. f*****g ‘terrible claws.’ Smart, fast, pack-hunting wolverines that could bring down that allosaurus if they put their minds to it. And you want to be neighbors?”
She moved to speak but paused, blushing with anger. “Look; I’m not telling you what to do—all right? So don’t try and tell me. You want to tuck tail and run—fine. But I’m not going anywhere. Do I make myself clear?”
“As pus,” I growled. “Look, the only reason we’re alive is because those things caught scent of that allosaur and didn’t want to challenge its territory—all right? It sure as hell isn’t because you’ve been—because you’ve been praying to these things; if that’s what you’re thinking.” I watched as her expression changed and finally threw up my arms. “Jesus Christ, that’s what she’s thinking. That’s actually what she’s thinking. Probably wants us more in tune—”
“Dammit, just listen to me! It’s because we were in tune with this place that we were spared—okay? Because we weren’t fighting or running or resisting, but were instead in harmony with it—all of it, with the animals, with the Flashback, everything. What’s more, it’s like, talking to us now, trying to tell us something. And I don’t know about you, David Hodge Lambert, but I want to know what that something is.” She shoved against me suddenly, violently. “I have to know what it’s saying, what this great darkness is whispering—don’t you see, I have to!”
And then she tore away from me even as I tried to calm her and bolted out the back door, into the fog, into a primordial soup, at which I quickly pursued and cornered her at the end of the dock, where she turned to face me before stripping off her shirt.
“Ah, Jesus,” I exhaled, loudly. “Okay—fine. Why not. So ... Here goes. What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She shimmied out of her Levis and kicked them off—hopping on one foot as she did so. “I’m going in, David—going in to them. To whatever’s behind all this.” She stepped out of her panties and gave me her best come-hither look. “Wanna come?”
I think I just glared at her—unable to find the right words, stunned entirely speechless.
“You don’t want to do that,” I said, and inched a little closer, conscientiously, deliberately. “We don’t know what’s in there. No, no, what I think you need to do just now is to—”
“That’s far enough,” she snapped.
“Or—what? Your g*n’s in the house.”
“Or I jump—right now. Or ... or I call them down on you.” She nodded at the sky—into the churning gloom—where a single pterodactyl wheeled and the strange lights shimmered. “Because—because we’re not the same, see. I’m not like you. Like, not even. I run with wolves. I always have. And I was born for this.”
“No,” I said—and inched still closer. “No one was.”
“Just go. Now—”
And then I leapt.
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- Writer
