The Child: Episode 10
Who is Albreda?
From behind me, a bang as loud as a shotgun blast nearly stopped my heart. I jumped. My lips quivered and my hands shook, the accumulation of a half dozen hours of inexplicable strangeness. My heart pounded against my chest as if it was trying to break through my ribs.
It was a knock on the door. Just a knock.
Harlan nodded to the boy, smiled, and opened the door.
A woman in her thirties, with coal-black hair that reached halfway down her back and the blackest pupils I’d ever seen, stood at the transom. She wore black jeans, a black t-shirt, and red canvas sneakers.
“Albreda!” Harlan shouted as he slammed the door shut. “Not you!”
The woman stuck her foot between the door and frame. Harlan pressed his palms flat against the door and leaned into it with all his weight. He swore as he kicked at Albreda’s foot. After each kick, the woman’s foot slipped further forward. She slapped the door with her open hand, forcing it all the way open, and sending Harlan airborne. Had the couch been just another foot further away, he would have landed on the floor.
Harlan started to stand, but before he could raise himself even an inch off the sofa, she was on him, squeezing him between her legs. She gripped his neck with her left hand. In her right hand she held a dagger, the point of which was pressed against Harlan’s neck.
The boy stood motionless during this brief, but vicious battle, while I pressed against the living room’s far corner, my heart still on the precipice of bursting. The word that best described my body language was “cowering.”
“You were expecting somebody else?” Albreda asked.
Harlan didn’t say anything.
She dug the knife’s tip into Harlan’s neck deep enough to draw a drop of blood. He grimaced and said, “Oww.”
“I’d say we have all night, but I doubt it will take that long to get you to tell me what I want to know.” She turned to the boy. “What Albreda wants, Albreda gets.” In a single, fluid motion, she grabbed Harlan’s shirt collar, leaned back, planted her feet on the floor and brought Harlan to a standing position. Her knife still hovered next to Harlan’s neck. She stepped backward toward the boy, pulling Harlan with her. It was only when she stood a breath away from the boy did she ask, “Who’s he?” She shifted her eyes my way.
“That’s Mark. He teaches with me at Middlebury.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Just an accident. He found the boy on the side of the road.”
Albreda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Believe him! I wanted to shout. I have nothing to do with whatever is going on here.
She aimed the knife my way. The room’s light reflecting off the blade stung my eyes. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Her words robbed my legs of strength, and I slipped to the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as I could, like a child cowering underneath a blanket during a thunderstorm.
“Galinder,” she said. “What is it?”
“If you have to ask, then — ”
Albreda slapped Harlan’s face before he could complete the sentence. Blood dripped from between his lips. “You’ll give me the answers I want sooner than you think.” She punched Harlan in his belly. He doubled over, then dropped to his knees. She knelt down, too, facing Harlan, grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled his head back. “Now!” she screamed.
There was a thud against the windows, followed by the sound of vibrating glass. Five bats attached themselves to the glass.
“You don’t have long,” Harlan said. He forced a smile.
She released his hair and stood. “I’ll take what I need now and get the answer from you another time.” Albreda walked to the boy. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and pressed her hand against the boy’s forehead. The boy grimaced in pain. He clenched his teeth, but stayed silent.
Pinpricks of color appeared on her naked torso, slowly at first, then faster, like an invisible artist was spray painting her. She removed her hand from the boy’s head and extended her arms to the side as tattoos appeared on her skin. A myriad of shapes and creatures, some recognizable like a tiger, some fantastical such as a rhinoceros with a horse’s legs and a serpent’s tail. There was a castle keep surrounded by four towers, a river winding through a heavily wooded forest, and Saturn eclipsing the moon — her body was a tapestry of the real and surreal.
The drawings were different from those on the boy, and the tattoos — or whatever they were — covered both her front and back. Sandwiched in between all the ink was a map, which, as far as I could determine, was identical to the boy’s map.
She gasped, took three fast breaths, and put her shirt back on.
The boy howled. His tattoos moved. Animals chased each other, trees bent from under the force of an invisible wind, a waterfall cascaded over a cliff. A man and woman ran into a wooden hut and shut the door behind them. A creature half bear and half wolf slammed into the door. I sat on the floor watching the phantasmagoric scenes on the boy’s back.
The boy howled again. The bats that had been on the window, broke through. Glass shards covered the far side of the living room, sounding like wind chimes in a storm as they fell. The bats circled widdershins over Albreda, their jaws snapping.
“I’ll go now.” She pivoted toward me. “He’s going to kill you. Your friend, Harlan, is going to put a knife to your heart. Your only chance is to come with me.” She took two steps to where I sat and extended her hand. The bats screeched as they followed her.
“Don’t listen to her, Mark. Albreda is your worst nightmare. She is death. I’m your friend, your hope to stay alive.”
CHOOSE YOUR NEXT MOVE:
— OR —
The Child is an interactive puzzle fiction story. If you’ve stumbled onto this episode without reading the beginning, you can start at Episode One here.