Semi

​Carter Rowanne

     There was something about the open road that felt dangerous, once you knew what was really in the back of a semi truck. They were more than capable of getting loose, and you could never predict just how good they would be at hiding in the shadows. That’s probably a big part of why the public can’t know; people have to feel safe, for their own sanity.
     Carlisle took the steaming mug of coffee off of Speedway’s eggshell-blue counter, handing the clerk exact change. He tipped his hat to her with his free hand, turning back towards the door. The heat of the desert sun slipped in through the cracks, and he could see it coming off the road in iridescent waves. He wasn’t looking forward to his next assignment.
     He stepped onto the hot asphalt and speed-walked over to his truck, knowing that he had given himself enough leeway to be on time no matter how long he took, but hoping he was early. The idiots at these containment facilities didn’t know what they were doing half the time. The world would be safer with it in his hands. The facilities lost these things all the damn time.
     He, on the other hand, hadn’t lost an elemental since the summer of ’96. Even then, it only took him three hours to get it back, with far less equipment than they had at their disposal. A similar creature had taken the big bosses three weeks to track down in Nevada.
     He opened the cab, lifting his leg as high as it would go and catapulting himself up as his hands reached out to grasp at the side of the truck, catching him and pulling him in.
     “Getting a little too old for that, aren’t ya?”
     Carlisle turned, looking over his shoulder. A jovial young trucker with a lopsided grin and a protruding beer gut waved at him from the sidewalk.
     “Too old, too fat, and too damn short.” He gruffed back, grinning. John had been on the road for four months now, meaning that he was still young and inexperienced. Normally the young men who came in got on Carlisle’s nerves. They were too cocky, and much too reliant on the tools that were provided to them.
     Which, to be fair, wasn’t their fault. The instructors nowadays were told to fill the boys’ (and girls’) heads with dreams. They got thrust into this world much too confident that nothing would go wrong.
     About eighty percent of them either quit or were dead after an incident.
     “Hey, are you headed towards Texas?” John asked. Carlisle sat firmly in his seat and reached for the seatbelt, pulling it over his shoulder and clicking it into place. He looked in his rearview mirror at John, standing there out in the open like his mama held him for the first time ten minutes ago. He didn’t know how the boy had made it this far, if he was being honest.
     “I’m about three hours away, why?”
     “I’m gonna follow you up.”
     Carlisle rolled his eyes. “Just cause we’re going to the same place doesn’t mean that you’re following me.”
     John didn’t respond to that, but the smile on his face never fell. Carlisle reached forward and jammed his keys into the ignition, starting up his truck. He turned the air conditioner on high and took a sip of his coffee, wishing he had slept better last night.
     Oh, well. To the open road it was.
     The three hours went by slow, especially when it was paired with the unchanging landscape. There was nothing to look at, nothing to watch. His radio played uninterrupted static through most of the trip, with the occasional comment from John.
     Soon enough, he was at the gates. The large “steel plant” stood in front of him, towering. He was sweaty from his drive, as the air conditioner hadn’t quite been enough to cut through the thick layer of heat. He wanted to get inside, where there would surely be relief.
     “Go to lot two, door number seven.” The security guard said, giving him a small ticket. He was soon parked and hopped out of his car, hobbling over to the door as fast as he could force himself to move. He hated these damn large parking lots; they made him feel like a camel crossing the desert.
     He heaved the door open, pausing when he felt the feeling of eyes watching him. He turned to see John walking towards him, swinging his keys around his fingers. Manners compelled Carlisle to hold the door open, and John quickened his step. He went inside, throwing a surprised, “Thank you!” over his shoulder.
     Carlisle stepped inside after, letting the cool wash over him. The men who worked in these facilities were spoiled.
     Inside, large cranes moved metal boxes around, growls and snarls filling the room. If you watched closely enough, you could see the runes glowing with the weight of their magic as they held back the beasts.

     A woman in sunglasses walked in front of them. Her hair was dark and her arms were thin, as was the rest of her body. Her skin was a sun-darkened brown and her smile was beautiful. She felt genuine, and Carlisle immediately straightened his back. She reminded him, in a way, of his mother.
     “Aaaah, Carlisle Bradley. And John Williams. You two need to be briefed.”
     With the beckon of her hand, she drew them closer before turning, now leading them back to the business side of the operation. Her hands and clothes had a small layer of dust that proved that she was more than just a paper filer. If he had to guess, she was this facility’s spellcaster.
     They headed back to the office, which was even colder than the containment bay. In fact, Carlisle was holding his arms at this point, trying to rub a little warmth back into his skin.
     She opened a door, leading into the largest office in the room. The glass windows looked out onto the rest of the floor, making sure that everyone could see what was going on in there but nobody could hear it.
     Carlisle stepped in. A man with pale white skin and a blot of white, greasy sunblock rubbed across his nose sat at the desk. His name tag read ‘Devin’ in short, red letters. He only had one folder in front of him.
     Carlisle stared. Well, this was... odd.
     “Carlisle, John. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat.” He said, sweeping his hand towards the two chairs in front of him. Carlisle sat, and John followed suit. John was so tall and a little bulkier than the chairs allotted for, and it made a great squeaking sound under his weight. All three men were silent until the chair stopped its protests.
     Devin cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows and reached for the case files, digging through the small pile he had corralled to the corner of his desk. Finally, he located what he was looking for and pulled the largest file out from the middle, slamming it down in front of him with a loud smack! Carlisle sat up in his seat, eyebrows pulling together.
     “One file?” He asked, glancing at papers that were just barely spilling out of the side. “For both of us?”
     Devin smiled.
     “It’s a new initiative.” He explained. He leaned forward over his desk with his hands crossed tightly in front of him. “Two truckers to one monster. We’re doing it to try and improve the survival rate of our newest recruits. We figure a few runs with the older, more... experienced drivers might do them some good.
     Now, Carlisle wasn’t born yesterday. He wasn’t born a thousand yesterdays ago. He probably wasn’t even born twenty or thirty thousand yesterdays ago, but he couldn’t do the math fast enough to be sure. The point is, of course, that he knows when someone is lying to him.
     And has the good sense to keep his mouth shut about it.
     He leaned forward, taking the folder off of the table and opening it up immediately. He scanned the mixture of newspaper clippings and the capture report, raising his brow. “This is the Smokey Mountain fire?”
     “The very elemental who caused it, yes.” Devlin informed him. “We’re taking him up to one of our Canadian facilities.”
     “Which one?”
     “Alert.”
     “That’s pretty far North, isn’t it? Our north-est facility?” John questioned. Carlisle looked over at him, sitting on the edge of his chair and still eager. Boy, this kid had a lot to learn. He still hadn’t picked up on the danger that they were about to be in.
     “You sure that’s far enough north?” Carlisle questioned. He made eye contact with Devlin, eyes searing, searching. Devlin’s smile faltered for just a moment, his lip twitching as his eyes glazed over. He looked down, breaking the contact.
     “From there, it’ll be moved to the North Pole.” He informed Carlisle.
     Carlisle nodded, sitting back in his seat. “And we’re supposed to get there when?”
     “You have two days and fifteen hours. There are two of you, so we’re assuming you can take turns driving and sleeping. You’ll have four hours of off-time a night, though. Of course, your accomidations for that time will be paid for by the company, including-“
     “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Carlisle waved it off. “The usual spiel. We get it.” He stood up, looking Devlin up and down. He knew there was something going on here. He had... suspicions.
     He wanted to get in that truck and get this job over with as soon as he could. He turned to leave, and met the careful eyes of the Spellcaster. She smiled at him, and it seemed forced.
     “I’ll escort them to the truck.” She offered, nodding towards Devlin. Carlisle heard the chair squeak in relief as John got up, and heard a small crash as it fell back down to the floor. Oh, God. It had gotten caught on John’s hips and came up with him. Well, so much for walking out of there with dignity.
     “Good luck.” Devlin said, but the words were empty. They always were.
     Back out in the office, the spellcaster walked quickly in front of them. He watched her, trying to decide whether or not to do a little digging. Then again, he’d never had much luck when it came to controlling his curiosity. “So, Tennessee wildfire. That did a lot of damage. Must have been a bitch to lock up.”
     “That it was.” She said, leading them back through the double doors and to the (significantly warmer) holding area. “That’s why we’re taking it to the coldest place possible. Dim its powers. Fire and ice and all that.”
     “Gotta be careful with that, though.” Carlisle hedged, grinning. “Fire and ice make water, and you’ve gotta take those fuckers straight to the desert to keep ‘em under control.”
     The spellcaster smiled, turning back at him. There was something in her eyes, something wary. Carlisle felt the smile he hadn’t realized he had fade.
     “Just... Be careful out there.” She said, sincerely. Her words carried a weight with them that implored Carlisle to listen. “We contained it as much as we could. But we both know that sometimes, that isn’t enough.”
     “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, digging. She flinched, and he knew he had hit the end of the information that she could give him.
     “It means what it always means,” she said, but her voice was laced with defeat, “be safe out there.”
     “Ready!”
     Carlisle turned towards the sound- a factory worker in a white hardhat leaning out of the cab of his truck, holding the keys in his hands.
     Carlisle knew he wasn’t going to get anything more out of her, so he let it drop. With one last fleeting glance to the woman—the woman that oddly enough, reminded him of his mother— he lumbered forward and hopped in the cab of the truck.
     He got in the Driver’s seat—John didn’t seem to have a problem with that. He happily lumered in beside Carlisle and grabbed his seat belt, pulling it over his chest and clicking it firmly into place. Carlisle wondered how John dealt with driving his truck all day. He was hunched over, with his hat scraping the top of the cab as his massive torso stretched up like a California redwood.
     Carlisle watched the summoner disappear behind the door. Immediately, he felt a creeping, dark energy pulse from the back. He hunkered down, trying not to let the goosebumps that were threatening every inch of his skin win.
     Finally, one of the lackeys waved from the floor, signaling that they were all set to go. Carlisle had a bad feeling about this trip. But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job.
     “Are you ready for the road?” He asked John. John nodded, adjusting his hat.
     With the sun beating down and a thousand pound monster with unparalleled power caged in the back of their truck, they took off across the desert.
     Two people can only stay silent so long in the desert. There’s nothing to see, and nothing to do when you’re driving. Things can’t stay perfectly quiet, or before you know it, you’ll be hypnotized. Carlisle knew this good and well. But that still didn’t stop him from testing it. It had been a long time since he’d been alone with someone, and he wasn’t about to buddy up.
     John had other ideas.
     “When did you start driving?” He asked, quietly.
     Carlisle considered, for a moment, how to respond. He’d been friendly to John, gotten to know him a little through the radio. His handle, ‘BubbahSkywalker’, was always chattering about some big pile of roadkill, or joking about seeing the fifth World’s Largest Ball Of Twine that week.
     He wasn’t asking anything too terribly personal.
     “Awhile. Quite awhile. Longer than you’ve been alive.” He elaborated, reaching down and grabbing his drink from the console. He took a long sip, letting it wet his pallet. John seemed to be waiting, perched as far on the edge of his seat as a giant in a seatbuckle could be. Carlisle caved a little. They couldn’t do this in silence. “It’s been about forty years now. I’m getting close to retirement.”
     “Wow.” John said, his eyes wide and his voice full of wonder. “I betchya you’ve been doing this long enough to actually see one of ‘em.”
     “Yeah, and it’s not something you wanna mess with.” Carlisle said, his voice sharp. Guilt immediately grasped him, but he didn’t let up on his tone. These young boys were not taught what they needed to know. “They’re dangerous. And mean. They fill the air with this awful magic, the kind that makes you wanna choke. They make the Wicked Witch of the West look like she’s doing your mama’s kitchen magic. And just about the only damn weakness they have is location.”
     “Location.” John repeated, slowly. He said it like he was testing the word on his tongue. “Is... is that why they have us take them across the country?”
     “They really tell you boys nothin’, don’t they?” Carlisle gruffed. He rolled his eyes, but enough of him felt sympathetic towards John that he decided to elaborate. That, and he couldn’t hold up to the puppy eyes John was flashing him. “If a creature is a fire, it does bad in the cold. If it’s a water, it does bad in the heat. Earth does bad in the air and wind has to be put underground. Of course, nothing can really be done about oils except to get ‘em as far away from people as possible.”
     This was one of those times when Carlisle wished that their CCVs were on a private channel, and not how it is, since just any old hillbilly with a working radio could listen in. The young boys could learn a lot from being able to talk freely on the channel.
     “Oils?” John scoffed. “You really believe in those?”
     Carlisle turned to him. “Don’t believe everything the damn institution sells you.”
     “Hey, they’ve never lied to me before.” John argued. Carlisle laughed, and it seemed to fill the cab. John’s eyebrows scrunched together as he frowned.
     “They lied to us not half an hour ago.” Carlisle said, rolling his eyes. “But I find your faith endearing. Damn stupid. But endearing.”
     “What do you mean, they lied to us? They gave us the full mission.” John argued. Carlisle paused, considering. He was about to crush a little bit of innocence, but it was for the greater good.
     He reached forward, and picked up the radio. He pressed the button, letting the static ring for a moment before he spoke into the receiver. “Heya boys, this is Rubber Duck Nine-Nine, I was just wonderin’ if any of you had heard of a new program. Word around town is that the big bosses are pairing younger drivers with older, more experienced ones.”
     He waited, gave it a few seconds. The silence was almost louder than the noise of the truck.
     “No, Rubber Duck. Sea Farer here, I’ve not heard of that one bit.”
     They started coming in one by one, and Carlisle tried not to feel too satisfied with himself. John’s eyes were filled with concern as he took in the new information.

     “Then why did they do it with us?” He asked, quietly. Carlisle laughed.
     “Boy, that summoner was actin’ like she wanted to tell us something. I’ve never had a woman look at me like that before without having some bad news.”
     “But if she wanted to tell you something, why didn’t she?” John argued. “That still aint proof.”
     “Summoners aren’t exactly able to say what they like. I’m guessing they took that out of the curriculum too, huh?” Carlisle asked. The dumbfounded look on John’s face told him all that he needed to know. “They sign contracts. They’re only allowed to tell you what the boss wants. And those magic contracts? If they snitch, they lose their tongues. It
falls out.”
     “Okay,” John said, slowly. “But that still doesn’t prove that Oils exist.”
     “I’ve seen one with my own two damn eyes.” Carlisle said, darkly. He closed his eyes briefly before snapping them open and training them more concretely on the road. He didn’t want to think about that right now. “Could control everything—fire, water, earth, the damn wind. And it used every one of those things to its advantage.”
     “You have?!” John said, excitement radiating from his every pore. “What was it like? Were you scared? How did you get him back to the-“
     Emotion rose up in Carlisle. Pain pulled at his chest, and his heart throbbed angrily. Without thinking, he snapped, “That’s none of your damn business, and shame on you for acting so excited about it. Those damn oils are
killers. Monsters and killers.”
     John shrunk down, looking at Carlisle sideways, his eyes swimming with the sting of the reprimand. Carlisle felt a little bad, again. John didn’t know, he didn’t know, nobody did. He didn’t talk about it.
     The truck was consumed with silence for a bit, nothing between them. Carlisle felt all clammed up, like a hand left in the bathtub too long. He didn’t want to talk about it.
     John, as always, didn’t ask. He eventually broke out of the sting and reached forward to play with the radio, landing on Katy Perry’s California Girls. He sang along and did limited dance moves, sashaying his shoulders and banging his head to the beat. Carlisle tried to be annoyed, he really did.
     But it was admittedly refreshing that John didn’t pry.
     Maybe he was too stupid.
     Conversation was scarce for the rest of the day, the open road and the radio the only things that entertained them. They switched driving shifts halfway through the day and Carlisle was able to fall asleep comfortably while John was driving, just as John had napped through some of Carlisle’s time at the wheel.
     They pulled into a beat-up motel and Carlisle was suddenly awake, and the ground had stopped moving underneath him. He hopped out of the truck and onto the now-cool asphalt. The sun had gone down quite a few hours ago, and he tried not to let the lack of light disorient him as he walked towards the check-in lobby, his company credit card in hand. When the room was paid for, he decided to run to the gas station across the street and pick up some essentials.
     He squinted at the neon lights as he came back to where John sat, offering him one of their room keys. John took it gleefully and immediately went off to prepare for the night.
     Carlisle went across the street and got a bag full of beef jerky and cheap hotdogs, as well as a couple of things of pop for John and himself. He paid for them and headed back to the motel, the soreness that always existed in his muscles acting up as he made his way up the stairs.
     When he got to their room and pushed open the door, John was lying facedown on the bed in a bath robe, his hair and skin still wet from his shower.
     Carlisle dumped the bag full of food on the end table in between their beds, watching John light up. “Help yourself, but save some for me. I’m gonna go scrub away the grime too.”
     After his shower, which opened his pores and released the sludge that had seemed to build up all along his skin, he came out feeling relaxed and refreshed, his towel wrapped around him to preserve his modesty while he made his way to the bed. He climbed under the covers and dropped the towel, using his pillows to make the wood soft against his back as he sat up. John’s eyes were glued intently to the television, and he was mindlessly eating tiny tidbits of beef jerky.
     “What are you watchin?” Carlisle questioned, his brows drawing together. This wasn’t necessarily something that he recognized, but nonetheless it seemed familiar.

     “The Titanic.” John elaborated. Carlisle rolled his eyes. Of course it was the damn
Titanic. John was exactly the kind of man to watch that alone.
     “What on God’s earth inspired you to watch that?” He grumbled. He hid well that he found this endearing; everything about John was just a little off-kilter, but not in a bad way. Not a bad way at all.
     John’s voice took on a soft, whimsical tone as he leaned back in the bed, surrounded by pillows. He must have ordered more, because this many did not come without request. “This is my wife’s favorite movie. We watch it together every couplea months. Reminds me of her.”
     Carlisle tensed a little, swallowing. “Got a wife, do ya?”
     “And two kids.” John elaborated. “A boy and a girl.”
     The hurt, the same hurt he’d felt earlier, began in Carlisle. The ache. The ache that threatened to consume him, the loneliness that was both a part of this job and something that he had engineered for himself, whether or not it was intentional.
     But it didn’t hurt as much today, right now, as it normally did. There was some kind of little dampener, a bandaid. John was right here, beside him. John was learning from him, unapologetically asking questions that shouldn’t be answered. He even had the same eyes, the same eyes that his little girl had had... before... before...
     “So,” John questioned, trying to move the conversation along, “What about you? Do you have a family?”
     “Used to.” Carlisle answered. He let himself sink down into the mattress a little further than he had been before.
     “Oh.” John said. But he didn’t let it be this time. “You don’t have to tell me, but-“
     “Daughter got killed. Wife left me after that, thought that it was my fault. I never found anyone I loved as much as the two of them again.”
     “Oh.” John said, his tone drastically darker and more sympathetic. It was clear that he was going to let the issue drop, but it had been years since Carlisle had told anyone the truth and he wasn’t going to stop now. John was the first real human
connection he’d made in a while. John was soft and funny. John with his little girl’s eyes.
     “An oil escaped from my rig.” He said. “The company had told me just to stop by my house for the night so I didn’t waste my gas. Biggest mistake of my life.”
     “Did she...?” John asked, his voice barely a whisper. Carlisle’s eyes were filled now with tears, which were fighting to flow down over his cheeks and get caught in his unkept beard. A few of them made it. It was the most he’d cried in a while.
     “When I found the oil, he was crouched over her body. He drowned her on her swingset.”
     He would never be able to forget the sight of his daughter’s hollow eyes. Never would the sound of his wife’s anguished cries leave his ears. He knew it wasn’t his fault. He knew it. But he would struggle with the guilt for the rest of his damn life. It didn’t help that Bertha blamed him too; whether or not she would ever admit it.
     “I... Can’t even imagine how that would feel.” John said, quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
     Carlisle could hear the tears in his voice, knew that he was crying too.
     “Don’t get me wrong,” He said, quietly. “The people who give the orders aren’t all bad. But sometimes, they make the wrong call. I should have never stopped in that night. And if they ever take you on a route anywhere
near your goddamned house, tell em to go fuck themselves. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did.”
     “I promise you.” John said, fervently. “I won’t.”
     Carlisle let the quiet rest over them for a long time, soaking in it. He shut his eyes and his mind, letting himself find a kind of inner peace he hadn’t accessed in a long time.
     “I’m going to bed, now.” He said. “G’night.”
     If John responded, he didn’t hear it. He was asleep faster than he’d fallen asleep in years.
     When he woke up, it was to the sound of metal being blown off its hinges.
     He had exactly one second of peace, three seconds of panic. And two seconds of soul- crushing realization. As soon as he knew what was going on, he was out of bed, grabbing his dirty clothes and pulling them on. Adrenaline spiked in his veins, and it didn’t matter that it was too dark to see.
     “What’s going on?” John asked. Carlisle didn’t want to tell him. He wanted John to stay behind; he wanted to take care of this himself.
     But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do this on his own.
     “Looks like you’re about to see your first monster.” He announced, as he heard the steps begin.
     They weren’t coming towards the hotel- which was a good thing. This meant that it was heading towards the sparse covering of trees across from the hotel, which meant that it was likely headed away from society. Carlisle, now dressed, grabbed their room key and stuck it in his back pocket as he flung himself out the door, taking the stairs two at a time and telling himself he could complain about being too damn old for this later.
     By the time he made it to the truck and grabbed the blaster (handmade by him ten years ago when his last one failed, it shot iron balls with sigils that would sink into the beast and dull their powers until backup arrived. Backup would have some explaining to do this time.
     John busted out of the room just as Carlisle turned, seeing the massive, slick footprints along the parking lot and leading out to the woods. Carlisle gritted his teeth. Of course it was a fucking oil. Of course.
     “You-“ Carlisle said, turning back to John. He gestured to the truck. “I have a backup blaster in there—It’s more manual, bow-and-arrow style, but she’ll do. Call the bureau before you do anything else.”
     John nodded, reaching into his pocket for his phone.
     Carlisle took a deep breath, centering himself. He turned towards the oil, tracking into the forest, and centered himself. He strengthened his resolve, and opened his eyes. He ran towards the darkness, and through the trees.
     The woods were dark. It would be difficult to see the thing, but the moon was out, meaning that he could see the iridescence in the oil as it pooled on the ground. He knew that he had to keep moving- dodging foliage and pushing himself harder as his legs strained against the exercise. He moved through the woods, and he silently prayed that the oil wasn’t expecting him.
     The wind shifted, blowing the trees sideways and suddenly knocking him to the side. He struggled up against the onslaught, standing up against the wind. Okay, so it had probably caught on by now.
     He moved through the underbrush, trying to use the trunks as shelter as the wind whipped above his head. He was, for once, grateful for his extra few pounds. If he had been any lighter, the wind would have whipped him away.
     He trudged on. He might be going slower now, but he’d be damned if he would let this stop him. He was better than that.
     He came to a clearing.
     He looked up and saw through squinted eyes the moonlight illuminating the top of the monster’s head, just peaking out from behind the trees. The thing was taking its leisure now, most likely reassured that it would not be inhibited.
     Carlisle saw where it was headed—a stream on the edge of the clearing,close enough to the highway that you could see the headlights through the spattering of trees. He knew that the thing would climb into it, turn to water and shed the oil currently coating its skin into the water. Carlisle didn’t want the stream to get polluted—so he knew he had to act cautiously. The shot that he took had to be the only shot fired, or the thing would slip into the water and on top of leaving behind a trail of gooey black death, the thing would be that much harder to see.
     He worked his way around the clearing, his eyes locked on the beast as he slunk through the trees. This wouldn’t be easy, but he had the element of surprise. That might make this quick, at the very least.
     He arrived around the other end of the clearing, close enough now that he could hear the endless, thick gurgling that resonated from the monster’s chest. It was a few of its leisurely steps away from the creek, just far enough that Carlisle felt he had a chance to stop him before it was too late.
     He readied his weapon, hoisting it over his shoulder and taking aim. His finger pressed into the trigger as he steadied himself, ready to take the shot.
     Something burst through the trees on the other side of the clearing, and the sound caused Carlisle to turn. He saw John just in time, and didn’t shoot. The monster heard him, too, and turned towards the noise. Its big, bulking head dripped oil splatters onto the ground in front of it as it began to slink towards John.
     John was shaking in his boots. His arms were quivering, and Carlisle could see it from where he stood. He knew that John would not be able to make the shot. He knew that the creature was toying with him.
     It would have been better if it had just gone into the creek.
     Carlisle didn’t think, he didn’t stop and consider the possibilities. He took off running across the field as fast as he could, his weapon falling from his hands. He needed to go back and pick it up, but he couldn’t think straight. That thing was running towards John, who had the same eyes as his daughter.
     He couldn’t bear to see those ones empty, too.
     John shot the arrow, and he watched it sail into the beast’s shoulder. For a moment, just a brief moment, hope flared in Carlisle as the oil roared in pain. But it shook its head and turned back to John, its giant black eye full of hatred as it pulled the arrow out of its own chest. It was hurt, but not enough. The arrows were his backup for a reason; they weren’t as strong as the lead shotputs in his other weapon.
     “JOHN!” Carlisle shouted. “C’MERE! RUN AT ME, BOY!”
     John heard the voice, and obeyed without question. He took off like a fire had been lit under his ass across the field, and Carlisle watched as the oil turned towards him. Carlisle ran faster than he’d ever run in his life, praying to God to give him the speed he needed.

     John started to slow down, and Carlisle waved him forward, beckoning him to go faster. “GO BEHIND ME! My blaster’s on the ground!”
     The oil pulled back, the very arrow that had been used against it clenched in its fingers as it took aim. It came hurling through the air hard and fast and aimed right at John.
     Carlisle didn’t know how he got there in time. He didn’t know it was possible to move that fast, but suddenly, he was there, behind John, and John was safe and he was-
     Well, there was an arrow sticking out of him.
     John didn’t stop running. Carlisle heard his scream of terror, of loss, but the boy didn’t
stop. He kept running, and then the oil crashed into the grassy dirt of the meadow. Carlisle felt the thick, warm liquid begin to sink into his shoes as the oil’s magic was diminished, leaving him a husk of himself as the trap set to work.
     He felt a burst of pride. John had done it. He’d taken the oil down.
     John skidded to the dirt beside him, and suddenly Carlisle felt his head lifted up, into someone’s lap. The stick poking out of his stomach, which was now leaking blood from his wound, didn’t hurt. He didn’t feel anything yet.
     “Carlisle, Carlisle!” John struggled to say, his eyes filling with tears as he picked him up. Carlisle’s vision was blurry as he looked up, but he could feel the hot wet tears falling onto his face as John held him, rocking back and forth slowly and softly. “Don’t worry, help is on the way.”
     “John,” Carlisle said, reaching up. A moment of final clarity overtook him, and he reached up with his hand. The pain in his stomach hit, and it was excruciating- he wanted to seize and vomit all at once- but he had something important to say first. “John, don’t worry.” His hand landed on John’s cheek.
     “Yeah?” John asked, sniffing obnoxiously.
     “Don’t worry.” Carlisle said. “If I die, it was for something that I believed in.”
     “Stay with me, stay with me, stay-”
     A sob overtook John, and it was the last thing Carlisle heard before the adrenaline and pain and the numbness became too much. His vision faded to blackness, and he thought that this must be the end.
     When he next woke, the walls were white. The ceiling was white. The television in the corner was playing golf.
     “Whatta shit sport.” He mumbled, reaching up to touch his head.
     He had a headache. But moving alerted him to another, sharper pain; one in his stomach. He groaned.
     “Carlisle?! CARLISE!” John shouted. Suddenly, Carlisle felt his hand grabbed and squeezed. John was hovering over him, tears of joy now staining the sheets. “You’re alive.”
     “What happened?” He asked. His memory was fuzzy.
     “You saved my life. You jumped in front of an arrow for me. We finished off the oil and nobody died.”
     Carlisle blinked, looking down at his stomach. Bandages wrapped around him.
     “I’m glad you’re alright.” He mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing. He glanced around the room. It was a hospital room, complete with tray stacked with food that Carlisle hadn’t been awake to eat. He felt ravenous hunger suddenly overtake him. “Any reason I can’t eat that?”
     John shook his head no. “Not that I know of.”
    Carlisle reached for the plate, ignoring the pain and pulling the cold mashed potatoes towards him. He picked up the spoon and started slowly putting bite after bite into his mouth, not bothering to taste it (and why would he? It was
hospital food, for crying out loud) before he swallowed. It put something on his stomach, and even though he was still hungry, he quickly felt too drained to continue eating.
     “Speaking of food,” John hedged, nervously. “I was maybe wonderin if you’d like to come round to my place for a meal sometime. I told the kids and wife that I had a close call, and that you saved my life. You’re... Kinda their hero, now.”
     Carlisle paused, freezing. He was.... Their hero. He had helped to save their father. He had kept a
family together.
     And, in a weird sort of way, that made them his family too.
     “I think I’d like that.” Carlisle said, finally.
     He’d kept himself closed off long enough. He couldn’t keep living his life like this, someone had to remember him when he was dead. Why not John? Why not John’s kids? Why not let them fill the aching hole in his heart that had been empty for far too long?
     He was certain that he would be happier if he let himself love again.
     John grinned at him, and it was a grin that lit up the room. “Good, I’ll go call them. The kids’ll be more excited than a stud at the sight of a mare.”
     Carlisle smiled. He let this smile last, savoring it as he leaned back. He was tired again, but this was worth it. It was
damn worth it. Because he might die tomorrow- all of them might- but today, things were good. Today, things were okay.
                                                                                                     THE END