DW A Trip of A Lifetime

DIMENSION: Dark Water

Terrified, she turned and ran into the priest, physically and clumsily coming into contact with his forehead. The priest wore an odd goggle over one eye. She surveyed her hand and saw red splotches on it. His shirt was covered with blood stains. She wanted to scream bloody murder as loud as her voice could yell, but she found that her throat was so dry she could not mutter a single word.

Her voice may have failed her, but legs did not. She ran as fast as she could past the church and down the street, her mind running just as fast for ideas.

The police had been at the wedding, so had the sheriff. The whole town was at the wedding. She continued to run down the streets and hoped that someone would hear her cry. She ran with all her might to get away, her thoughts jumbled as her body involuntarily went on autopilot. Anthea's feet raced while her mind tried to make sense of the devastating scene she had just encountered.

Ksh.

Anthea heard a sound coming from a familiar elderly couple's house she knew. "Help," she ran and knocked on the wooden door, almost knocking it down. "I need help, there's someone after me!"

Ksh.

Anthea stopped her assault on the door when she heard the sound again come from the back of the house. She headed off the porch to check out the back; someone had to have made that sound.

Ksh.

Anthea opened the gate and called for the old couple. The gate closed behind her as she made her way into the backyard. "Mister Odessa?" She glanced around and noticed nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was about to give up until she checked out the other side of the yard.

No words could express what she had seen. No thoughts came to her as she stared at the impossible. The world was hard yet concrete. There were no such things as monsters.

That's what she wanted to tell herself as she stared hypocritically at a slobbering creature with gel-like skin and an enormous snail shell on its back. It looked like it was dripping ooze from behind it, much like a slug.

When the gigantic slug saw Anthea though, its shell lifted along with the rest of its body as four thick mucus legs appeared beneath it. The creature glared at Anthea with a hungry appetite as it opened its sucker mouth into a wide round circle.

Anthea fell out of the wonder of staring at the creature, knowing she had to do something. She ran over to the hose and turned the water on full blast. The beast gargled, but it didn’t stay back.

Anthea closed her eyes, knowing there was nothing else to do. In the background she heard a screech and something drop. Anthea didn't know what to make of it as she opened her eyes. The man with the blood stained shirt was aiming a gun at the creature. Before he could turn on her, she aimed the hose his way.

His reaction was surprising as he bolted away. “Don’t shoot! I’m not here to hurt you. You don’t know what that could do.”

Anthea looked at the hose she was carrying. It could spray water, but not much else. Still, if he believed it was dangerous? Anthea stood up and wielded the hose in both hands like a weapon. “Who are you?”

Who are you? Nice words. "My name is Dumas." He peeked over slowly to watch the bride wondering what she would do. How in the world had she survived in the first place? The bride took a small step back with her mind obviously in shock. Dumas turned back around and stared at the sned he had killed. This bride was lucky he had jumped over the gate in time to save her; although, holding him at bay wasn’t appreciated.

"Who are you?" The poor bride repeated again. Was that all she could say? "Who are you?"

Dumas trudged over to her, knowing that the situation may have been hard to grasp. "Miss, I'm sorry. I am not here to hurt you, so put down the hose."

"Sorry?" The bride stared at him with wide eyes. What had he expected? They did meet at a bad time and she was almost eaten by a sned. She was about to get an even bigger shock in a moment though.

"Death as sned food isn't easy, so I jumped in," Dumas admitted. "Unfortunately, you are still going to die."

"What?" The bride asked softly. Her surprise gave him the upper hand to point the hose down. Before she regained her senses, he turned it off and threw it to the side.

"If you have lived here the past two days then you have been exposed to dark water," Dumas informed her. "I watched everyone die at your wedding. Apparently, your punch was being prepared at the same time the poison was the most intense."

"I didn't have punch." The bride blinked. "I was sleeping. I slept and then woke up."

All of that was obvious to Dumas. "Even a small amount of water on your skin has doomed you. Did you take a bath this morning?” No answer. “You won't feel anything different. You will die within seconds when it's your time." Dumas tried to be as considerate as he could about the situation. "It won't hurt so don't be afraid."

"When?" The bride asked weakly, not fully understanding what he had told her.

“Hours. Days.” Dumas peered behind her at the sned and contemplated what he would do next. He had been too late to save her town, but he had to keep moving. Staying on one lost battlefield would make him lose the next.

"Why?" The bride had finally asked a question that mattered. "Why do this to our town?"

"Revenge."

"I'm getting married though." The bride laughed strangely. "It's my wedding day. Everyone's out there, I know they are. This is a trick, and a mean one at that. I can't believe I thought this was real. I'm still sleeping in my bed, waiting to get up to get married."

Denial. The bride was already going through the first stage of death. Dumas didn't say anything, knowing he had to head out. He glanced down at the grass around her feet and saw it already starting to die. It was spreading quickly.

"I've never dreamed of anyone named Dumas before in my dreams. I must have heard it somewhere and you're a combination of people I know," the bride reasoned. "That's it, this is all a dream. It makes perfect sense." She closed her eyes. "I need to wake up so that I can get out of this nightmare. In a few minutes I will open my eyes and I'll walk down the aisle and become Anthea Campbell. I just have to wake up."

At least Dumas now had a name to go with the hysterical bride. "Anthea, you are not dreaming."

"I am, I know I am!" Anthea yelled as she went to reach for his weapon in his gun belt. He quickly stopped her.

"Don't be rash." Dumas pushed her hand back. "There are other ways of being able to tell if you're dreaming."

"I know!" She drew her attention towards the ground not able to face him anymore.

Dumas understood as he closed his gun belt. This bride knew it wasn't a dream, but she wanted to pretend anyhow that everything was fine, and that her loved ones were still alive.

"I'm not living like this. I can't live my last days like this. I should have died with everyone else." She walked over to the hose and turned it back on. She placed her lips close to it.

Dumas walked over and watched her. She wanted to get it over with, but she was scared to go through with it. Instead she turned the water off. Her will to live was too strong. It wouldn’t let her take the easy way out. Maybe she would end it eventually, but she was no longer his concern. "Anthea Campbell, I have to leave."

"It's not Campbell," she said as she fidgeted with her dress covered in mud and blood. "I never got married."

Dumas walked out of the backyard. All he could do for her was done. He headed down the street, but glanced toward the back. Anthea had decided to follow him. He continued until he hit the edge of town and jumped back on his motorcycle. Before he turned to leave, she called out for him. “What?”

“I want to come,” she said.

Dumas took a second longer than usual to think about the request. “I can’t do anything for you, you’re dying.”

“I know, but I still want to come.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Anthea spun around in a circle. “This is my life. This is all I’ve known. I have never even been to another town in my life. If I have no choice but to die, then I want to spend it out there seeing the things I could never see. Hearing the things I’ve never heard.”

Dumas put the clutch down. The motorcycle continued to hum below him.

“You said it could be hours or days,” Anthea reminded him. “I won’t be a pest for long.”

Dumas tapped his hands on the handles. It would probably be hours, not days.

He would be wasting time with this last request, giving her step by step details on how to get on wasn’t in his plans. When she died, he would have to take extra time to make sure she had a decent burial too.

He owed it to her though. He had been too late to save Horn River, the least he could do is grant a bride her final death wish. The time he had to spare to help the town would help keep him on track. “Get on. Hurry before I change my mind.” As she strolled over, he noticed the curves on her side. The clothes she wore were old, passed down through generation relics. Still, they couldn’t hide her true form. A woman hit with bad luck, wanting to get out.

Few women appeared like that these days. He was going to be driving with her behind him? Yeah, but she had been poisoned with dark water. It was best not to get too close. “Step over the right side first.” As she approached he held her hand steady as she slid her leg in from the right. “Watch where you put your feet.” He helped her a second time, showing her the basics so that she didn’t end up getting him in a crash.

“This appears new,” Anthea said as she touched the paint job. “Blue. Shiny. How does paint stick to this metal so well?” Dumas didn’t answer. He strapped an extra helmet on her head, and placed the motorcycle in neutral.

He wasn’t used to passengers on these missions, but this beauty would only be around a few hours. If he ignored her through most of it, the journey shouldn’t be so bad. He loosely held the clutch as he started the engine and gave it some gas. He took off his goggle and placed his helmet on. Shifting into gear, they took off.