Feelers pt. 10

“Grant! Grant!” I screamed.  I knelt down, frantically pushing the mist away, as if there was a hole that I could reveal that he could have slipped down through. But there was nothing, just the familiar fuzzy white ground.

I stopped still and stood listening. Everything was dead silence. I had not realized how much noise another person could make, just being around them. The swish of their clothing, the sound when they cleared their throat, the little laughs and sighs that had been part of their companionship.  Now it was like the void of outer space, or the bottom of the sea. But not quite.

Far off, I imagined I heard a shuffling sound, a snuffling sound. Was I imagining it? Was that a low growl? I held my breath, trying not to move or make a sound so I could hear if there was anyone else within earshot of me. There was nothing. It had been my imagination. Safe for now!

I began yelling at Grant now, walking around the place where he had vanished.

“How could you go off and leave me?” I hollered. “You dolt! You inconsiderate idiot!” For some reason that made me feel better, so I kept it up, walking around and around.

“Mrrrrrrrrhhh!” A growl so low in pitch I could scarcely hear it was my only warning before a horrible face popped out of the pitch whiteness as it lurched towards me! A bloody Ticonderoga pencil with the eraser end broken off waggled from one eye. I jumped to one side and missed its cuffing paw, but lost my balance and stumbled to the ground. I didn’t even stop to look, but I began rolling as hard as I could away from those long hairy legs. The ground shook a little as a huge paw-like hoof stomped the ground where I had been a split second ago. I rolled again, in another direction, thrashing around, trying to get to my feet without staying in one place longer than a moment.

Finally I was able to jump up. Wildly I looked around. I could see nothing. I heard the woofing, snuffling sound, but it seemed all around me. Everything was white. I breathed as shallowly as I could, not moving. Suddenly a heavy force like a tree limb knocked me across my shoulders and I was down on my face before I could even prepare myself. I’d landed on my nose and as I turned over, Icould feel blood trickling down my upper lip.

The slashing fangs of that monstrous creature were so close I could smell its nasty breath and couldn’t dodge the dripping saliva. With an instinct that came from who knows where, my hand jerked up and slapped onto the broken end of the pencil still jutting from its eye. It howled and jerked back but didn’t run away. Instead it began to scream an awful penetrating shriek and reached out for me with its paws. It grabbed me tightly and began slamming me down to the ground. I wished I could just pass out and be done with it all.

And then, at about the fifth pounding, I felt something peculiar under my knees, that spongy ground Grant had described. I prayed for the next slam to be in the same spot, and it was. My knees seemed to force the ground to give way, and then a hole popped open under me! I could feel nothing beneath my feet. I began beating the creature’s arm, but couldn’t get the leverage I needed. Then I hearkened back to a self-defense class I’d had last year and, quelling the nausea, bit down on the monster’s arm as hard as I could, biting as if I was aiming for the bone.  The beast squealed and dropped me, dropped me straight down where Grant had disappeared.

The last sound I heard from that awful place was a faint roar, and then nothing. And then I was brushing dirt out of my eyes and hair and mouth because I was crawling out of a medium sized hole in the ground. Grant was sitting on a nearby rock with an astonished look on his face.

I coughed, wiping the dirt off my lips, my eyes tearing as they washed the grit out, and I said, “Hey! You still had my backpack. I couldn’t let you get away with all my stuff!”