After the Bees

I

We shouldn't let our guard down. Anything can go wrong at a moment’s notice, but it has been too long since I've held James this close. I run my fingers through his hair and pull him down to me. The broad span of his hand slides down my side to the curve of my hip. His hands are everywhere, followed by his lips.

I push his face back to catch his bright green eyes. I love you, I say.

Something flickers across his gaze and his mouth quirks. He kisses me in response, hard and fast.

His hands harden, fingers encircling the entirety of my biceps. Squeezing. I bite his lip in my discomfort and flex, trying to get him to release me. The responsive bite is sharp. Razorblades cut into my mouth until I taste the warm flow of copper.

James, I gasp. I push against him.

James is strong, but this is different. It hurts when he touches me. I can feel the bruises spreading under his touch. His nails dig into me. Even the slopes of his back are more defined, more powerful. They ripple as he presses against me.

He shoves his face next to mine and runs a lashing red tongue across my ear. It's Leyak, he says. My heart slams against my chest and the thing above me chuckles. "Say it. Say my name."

We’ve been careful. They couldn’t have taken James. I shut my eyes and twist to try and look at him. James' beautiful green eyes are so dark they're completely void of color or emotion. The bones in his face shift, narrowing his wide eyes into slits. His features sharpen into the face of a beautiful monster. The cool feel of his tan skin is like fire. I cry out as the smell of burnt flesh tinges my nostrils, but the only sound that escapes me is a strangled croak.

A taloned hand wraps around my neck. Another clamps to the inside of my thigh and shoves it to the side. Scream for me, the monsters hisses.

I lurch forward, the scream lodged painfully in the back of my throat. I shove the invisible weight off and pull at my sweat-dampened clothes. It's just a nightmare.

A whoosh of air escapes my lungs. I can still feel Leyak's hands searching for new places to hurt me.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the slate-colored walls and realize I'm no longer in Michigan. Instead of a bed, I am laying on the stone-cold floor of a cave somewhere in the mountains. Leyak is only a memory. He can't hurt me anymore. I rest a shaking hand to my chest to steady my racing heart.

It has been three years since Leyak, and still he torments me.

I grab my journal from the bag I keep next to me. Writing has never kept the nightmares away, but it helps. I keep hoping that one day I will write the entry that finally makes all the bad disappear. I turn to the entry I wrote last week.

Fall 2031 - It started when the bees died. At first, no one worried because it was only out west in California, but then they started to die in the East. One by one they flew on the wind across the Atlantic. One by one they fell from the sky. It was as if they were running from something. Those who lived made it to the gardens people had prepared for them, but they only lasted a few months.

We were warned we couldn't survive without the bees. We had four years to live, they said, once they vanished. Within two months of the last sighting, we lost everything.

The harvests… well, there were no harvests. Grocery prices skyrocketed. I specifically remember apples shot up to $20 each. Livestock grew skinny and withered away. Scientists did everything they could to regenerate all we had lost but, before they could succeed, a plague swept the world.

It came like a swarm. It was so dark and deadly that the only thing we knew to call it was Sin. The Christians laughed at us. Sin was not a physical thing; it was something you did, not something you could grasp. They were wrong. Sin polluted the world, taking the form of many things: storms, boils, and darkness. Absolute darkness that filled the brightest day with dread. No one believed sin was palpable until they held their dead children. After that, they just screamed. We all did.

Some of us survived, immune to the black pollution. I prayed to God we hadn't. I prayed to anyone who would listen. If anyone did hear me, they turned a deaf ear.

Bodies piled up in the streets like mountains. The smell of rot was more overpowering than the thick smog of the plague that still hung in the air. If it was hard to breathe before, it was impossible then. There were no scavengers to eat the dead, but I once saw a woman picking at her lifeless infant.

James and I had a hard time finding food; animals were scarce and edible plants almost as hard to find, but we never stooped to picking over bodies. We weren’t religious, but something about desecrating a human body unnerved us.

It wasn’t long before they came. Or, others said they woke. It’s hard to say what actually happened. It wasn't the apocalypse promised to us. It was so much worse.

These beings who overtook us, who still devour our minds and flesh, are not aliens. They are not zombies or vampires. They're demons. Worse than the ones they speak of in the Bible. They plague us more than any horror movie or novel could have prepared us for.

I snap the book closed. I’m pretty sure writing everything out is the reason for my nightmare. I should have let the memory be forgotten, but a part of me wanted my version of this horror story to be remembered. If I allow myself to forget what happened, I’ll become complacent.

It’s hard to remember everyone I’ve lost. More than anything, I miss James. I miss companionship. So much has happened since Leyak and the other demons overtook us. Sin is the only thing we can breathe and very few are able to withstand it. Those of us who can breathe the air are in hiding. The rest belong to Hell. I don't know why I even keep a journal. It’s useless but a way to pass the time when I'm not running.

I haven't seen another human in three years. My journal has become my only companion, as there are no animals to befriend. I came across a dog once. I hated how it wagged its tail at me, but I was hungry and hadn't eaten in weeks.

I'm the minority who can survive this rotten world. I'm one of the immune. I do my best to stay hidden from man and monster alike. As long as I don't exist, I can't be hurt. Only on my own am I strong and able to live. I never believed in God. I never prayed to God before the Possession, but I do now. I beg Him to save us. Still, He doesn't answer.

What has happened in Heaven that we could be left like this?

Presently, I’m somewhere in Montana. I think. Between the mountains and plains, I found a place where no one can find me. No humans or demons live here. It’s off the map, one might say. It hasn't been the best decision, I must confess. One day it snows and the next is blistering hot. This weather is maddening. Currently, there is a downpour obscuring my vision outside the little cave I've made home.

I shift to relieve the tension building in my lower back. Today would have been mine and James' six-year anniversary. It’s the same day Leyak stole him from me. Maybe that is why the memory came back, why Leyak haunts me after so long. Even after all this time, I can’t let go of the past. I can’t escape the nightmares that drove me to the wilderness.

I tuck my journal beneath my arm and look out at the haze. I stand, stretching my legs one heel at a time. I should have stretched after working out. My joints protest as I pad to the back of the cave where I've let a fire burn down to the coals. I’m never too careful. I don't burn when it's dark unless it's freezing. If it's necessary that I do, I make sure my flames can’t be seen.

I toss dried leaves over the coals and blow gently. My makeshift pit is around the corner, so even if anyone does see the cave, they won't be able to see the fire until they are inside. The flames bring precious heat to my cold hands.

I reach for my satchel and pause. Before my fingers touch the first piece of jerky, my stomach sinks. I'll have to go hunting soon. I'd been lucky to find the nest of rabbits, skinny little things. I thought I had better rations. I have enough to last me through the week. Beyond that, I only have five sweet-roots left. It’s the one plant I’ve relied on for a constant meal, but lately it has gone scarce. I curse.

I toss my journal across the dirt and glare at it. I'd be lucky if anyone human found the damn thing. If they ever did, it means I was either dead or caught. I would never part with my journal willingly. I drum my bitten nails over the dirt for a moment, looking at it. I should get it. It’s not fair to take out my frustration on the one thing I cherish most.

My bed is nothing more than a smooth part of the cave floor. I touch the back of my waistband, my thigh, and my boot to make sure my blades are accounted for. I learned a few survival tricks before leaving home. One of them was you can never have too many knives.

I've acquired quite the collection. Some are made for pockets while others are better suited for hunting. I always keep two hunting knives and one karambit on me. I've stashed others in various hideaways in and outside the cave because you never know.

Eventually, I fall asleep. The sound of something sniffing wakes me. Their warm breath huffs out over my face and neck and then gradually moves down the rest of my body. I open my eyes a slit, looking between my lashes to see it. It’s too dark to tell. The fire has burned down to the coals. The face swings back up to mine and breathes in again.

Deft fingers pull the collar of my jacket away from my neck. It’s a demon.

Most demons mark their territory on the neck, though I’ve known them to bite elsewhere.

Some humans who are taken are spared, though it’s hardly salvation. They're used as tools to run Hell's bidding where a demon can’t. I don't know all the details, but I heard if you are left unmarked, you're one of the lucky ones. A single bite from the damned will do it. They inject venom into us that not only overpowers us but binds us to whichever monster inflicted the bite. I think it might be better to be possessed by one, totally lost, than to be used as a game piece.

The monster above me purrs with satisfaction when it finds no mark. It presses its gritty lips against the side of my neck. I let my hand fall to the ground and touch the hilt of one of my knives. The beast either doesn’t notice the movement or doesn’t care, but still I wait. I can't strike when its mouth is hovering or on me. I'm not just afraid of the venom but of losing a part of my body I'd very much like to keep intact.

Its dirty hands pull at my clothes, lacing sharp teeth and claws through the fabrics so they will tear. I pull the knife from its hiding spot as the demon moves lower. Its breath blows across the flat of my stomach, followed by a coarse tongue.

As soon as the tongue retracts, I strike. I thrust the blade up into its neck. The demon stiffens, but I’m already prepared for it. I grab it by the hair and thrust again, sliding the blade into a softer part of its neck.

The demon stumbles back, digging its claws into my chest, and screams as wetness spurts from its throat onto my face. I lunge forward and push and pull the blade again and again. Hands cling to my shoulders, and sharp nails tear into my flesh as I fall on top of it, but the unnatural strength I expected quickly fades. The fingers fumble to push me away, no longer fighting. It curses me with garbled words, lashing out with a long, red tongue. I've done a good job of severing most of the neck so it can't speak or scream. I thrust the blade into the sternum and up, pushing with all my strength and with a grunt.

The demon convulses and the flailing ceases. I push off from the body and slam back into the wall. The air smells of decay and sulfur. It fastens to me, stains my skin and clothes. My stomach rolls in protest. I swallow the bile that rises into the back of my throat, coughing to keep it down.

The rush of adrenaline coursing through my blood fades and reality sets in, along with pain. Deep puncture wounds run from the top of my shoulders down to my collarbones. I fumble in the darkness for my bag. I’ve got to stop the bleeding.

How did it find me? I have been careful not to leave evidence of not only my whereabouts but my very existence. I groan inwardly. It could have been anything now that I think about it. Even losing a strand of my hair in the woods could have led the monster right to me. I always keep it twisted in a knot, but two days ago I took it down when I went for a swim. I touch over it now, my fingers skimming over the brown locks that touch my shoulders. I never put it back up.

I’d thought, What harm could leaving it down for a little while do?

I wince as I press a piece of cloth to each of the wounds. I’ve nothing to hold the dressing in place. Fuck, that’s not the worst of it. The wounds are bad enough that it will be difficult to climb or do any strenuous work until they heal. I slip on my leather jacket in hopes that the added pressure will secure the poor bandages.

Such a careless mistake nearly killed me. I wind my hair into a bun with shaking hands. Strands of hair stick to the blood that covers them.

I slide down the wall, not once taking my eyes from the dark mass in the corner of the cave. I should run, but what if it has companions? My vision has improved, but I still can't see well at night. If there are others, they'll be sure to catch me before I even know I'm being hunted. If I run, I’m at risk. If I stay, my fate is the same.

Hours tick by. My eyes play tricks on me as the shadows of the night move. I think I hear things, but I convince myself it’s all in my head. The foul stink of decay thickens the air the longer the night drags on. The tremors in my hands grow worse.

At first light, I gather my belongings and stuff them in a single rolled bag. I haven't taken my eyes off the body all night, in case it somehow heals and wakes with a vengeance. Once I thought it had, but when I stabbed it nothing happened. I can't wait around any longer, though. I've got to move.

I’d been lucky to find this place. Now it’s ruined. If one demon could find it, so could others. I can only hope luck will be on my side as I leave the cave I've called home for the last three months. I’ll have to move away from the river. If the demon does have a friend, it’s the first place they will look. I always keep an extra supply of water on hand, but I don’t like moving away from the source.

I toss my pack over my shoulder.

Leaving so soon?

I spin around. Not to the demon lying dead on the cave floor but to another who stands at the entrance. I wasn't the only one waiting for morning, it seems.

He is heavily shadowed in front of the dusky forest. He tsks and wags his finger at me when I reach for the knife at my back. The blood drains from my face down to my feet as the monster approaches. He smirks and, reflexively, I tighten my hold over the hilt. It's hard to see where he is looking when his eyes are so black, but I can feel him give me a once over before he turns his head to the demon in the back of the cave. I turn with him, unbuttoning the snap holding my knife, as he walks by.

You will not have as much luck with me as you did with my friend, he says without looking at me. I will let you keep your knives, but if you try to use them on me, I will break every bone in your body and use them against you. He crouches low, his hand skimming over the demon but not touching it.

He looks back at me. I push the snap back into place and remove my hand, folding it with the other in front. His power is overwhelming, like a dark storm full of hail and lightning. The power in his gaze stills me. How do I get out of this? It’s a stupid question that brings my heart to the back of my throat. I can’t escape, not without a bite or this new creature inserting one of his other friends inside of me. I should have taken my chances under the cover of darkness.

What is your name? He stands, his shadow swallowing the light across the cave floor. He looks back at the mangled body and frowns. The fallen demon could not have been older than sixteen. I’ve killed younger.

Leah, I answer softly.

Leah, you have killed someone very close to me.

It was going to bite me.

He nods as he approaches me. What gave you the right to defy him? Hm? He grabs my chin roughly and turns it up. His full lips turn back in disgust as I recoil. Perhaps I should give you one of my own. Ah, ah, you will keep your hands where they are or I will rip your jaw from your pretty little face. I pull back my hand as soon as he catches me reaching for my karambit.

I swallow. I've seen humans with missing parts. They looked like zombies as they ran around doing Hell's business. It was grotesque. The demons didn't even find amusement in it. They did it because they could.

Are you the only one? he asks, lifting his face to sniff.

Yes, I say through gritted teeth.

I thought so, he says, letting me go. Surprising. How long have you been here? He looks around the cave, searching for something.

I wonder who he is and who the body belonged to before he inhabited it. The demon has an unnatural beauty, but I wonder how much of it is human and how much is fallen. He towers over my average build by at least seven or eight inches. His black hair brushes his shoulders in faint waves. Like the rest of him, it’s well-kept and clean. His skin is a dark gold; it shines too much to be tan. And his face is perfectly chiseled with a high brow and wide-set cheek bones that would be best suited for someone indigenous.

Who are you? I ask. Fear makes my voice tremble, so I try to sound brave when I say, I should know who is going to take me. I was a coward the last time a demon robbed me. I am not the same woman I was three years ago.

Amusement then greed flashes across his bottomless eyes. This is a monster who likes to play with his food. The realization makes my legs weak and the lump in my throat tighten.

Raum, he says with a smirk.

And the man?

The smirk stretches into a sneer. The man is no more. His pitless eyes flit over me and he nods towards the entrance. Come, you have a pyre to build. He brushes past me with intent and stops a few feet outside of the cave to see if I’m following.

II

It’s late into the evening by the time we finish building the pyre. By we, I mean me. Raum makes me cut down the branches, handing me a much bigger blade to do the chopping. It’s one of my own, a kukuri I kept hidden in the forest. The long, curved blade is not made for cutting wood, but who I am to tell a demon otherwise?

My shoulders scream in protest, begging that I stop the hacking, but I don’t dare. Though he seems unfazed that I might try something, the constant weight of his gaze keeps me in line. I won’t strike while he watches me so carefully. Not yet.

Once I’ve completed the hard work, Raum extends his hand to me. I tighten my grip on the kukuri before handing it over. The smooth wood of the handle slides from my grasp into his.

I listen halfheartedly when he tells me how to arrange