Touch

Tenth

Lucas unsheathed his gun, aiming the muzzle toward the door. He was panting, and his skin was a river of sweat.

"No! You'll hit my mom!" Katie protested, grabbing his arm.

Two events occurred in such close proximity to each other they appeared simultaneous.

One: Lucas' fingers reflexively pulled the trigger, projecting a bullet into the bathroom.

Two: A black arm and hand punched a hole through the door, gashing Katie's shoulder as they missed her head by inches.

She cried out; blood was dripping down her arm.

Fuck, Lucas thought, and for a moment he truly feared he might die, ripped apart by an army of supernatural devil hands. His legs twitched. The fight-or-flight instinct within him was aroused, and he was going to run, even if he didn't know it yet.

Katie was screeching and he could barely think. He nearly dropped his gun.

"Katie," he whispered, sounding much calmer than he felt, but still not very calm. "The cops. The fire department. Let's call them. Let them handle this. That. Whatever. Katie?"

"I... don't know." Her face was a zigzag of cascading, crashing emotion. Her features jerked oddly, like they weren't quite sure what expression to form. There was pain in there, but not just the physical kind. "I don't know!"

She snatched Lucas' gun away with her good hand. 

He was too stunned to fight her. He gave the door a cautious look, then took a few steps back, afraid he might collapse. "You were right," he said tonelessly.

"I wish I wasn't." Katie sniffled. "If those... hands didn't kill my mom, your bullet surely did."

"You're blaming me? Did you see that? Did you see that?"

Katie felt an odd sensation around her throat. Like a burning where the hand might have clenched it.

No! she thought.

Lucas took out his cellphone. "The cops'll handle this. We need to get out of here. Your arm--"

"It looks worse than it is," Katie gasped. "The hand only scratched the surface." But she winced as she spoke, and the sight of her blood filled her with nausea. "What are you doing?" she asked, noticing Lucas' cellphone for the first time.

"Getting help."

Katie walked toward him, halting close enough to smell the unpleasant tang of aftershave mixed with sweat. His face bore the dumbest look of panic.

She grabbed his phone right out of his flaccid hands, threw it on the ground, and crushed it underneath the heel of her shoe.

"You shouldn't do that," Lucas said numbly.

"I'll buy you a new one when this is over," Katie declared, stronger now, angrier, less afraid. "I'm not having anyone get in the way."

"Tell me about the-the-the hands again."

Katie stiffened. "This is the second time I've seen one. They're black, rubbery, strong, and fast. They could pop out of anywhere, I think, but I also think there are certain limitations. They have a lot of fingers." She paused. "The hand that first attacked me didn't have the strength to punch through a door. I wouldn't have been able to fight it off."

"They're getting stronger?" Lucas no longer had any doubts. He was going insane.

He'd had no idea going insane would be this terrifying. And once you lost your mind, could you find it again?

"Katie," Lucas exclaimed. They kept away from the door, but they were still too scared to leave the bedroom. His thoughts were strange, jumbled. His lips were numb and awkward. "If we get through this, I-I-I'll marry you."

"What? What are you saying?"

"I'll marry you, Katie. I will." But he wasn't thinking straight and he knew it. Lucas Derrien was terrified of settling down.

She relaxed somewhat, allowing herself a broken, flimsy smile. Allowing a few tears to dry before the deluge arrived. "We just have to get through this, then."