An Entire Year of You

Chapter 18: Wheat Snakes (Part 2)

Carlos might not have particularly liked snakes, but at least he understood them. Sure, their sudden appearance in his apartment was pretty bizarre, but the idea of snakes themselves made logical sense. Carlos couldn't understand what had replaced them at all, though he might have been able to figure it out if he wasn't busy cowering. Black smoke filled the bedroom, no longer held by his flimsy wooden door. It seeped through the cracks and circled with bed as he hid curled up beneath it. It probably wasn't the safest place, but it felt comfortable.

"Come on, Cecil." He whispered. There was a loud crash followed by a thud as something hit the wall and fell to the floor. Clearly whatever the smoke was had taken to throwing things. At least he didn't own anything expensive. Of course, of all the towns in the world, he was going to be sent to the one where angry spirits could spoil his breakfast. The room fell silent. Was it over? It could actually be over.

"Hello?" He called out. No response. How was a spirit going to reply anyway? He crawled out and clambered to his feet. Everything seemed fine. His stomach grumbled. Finally, he could get some food and-

Bang.

Within a moment, he was knocked to the floor. He fell hard onto his arm. Maybe if had the luxury of a carpet it would have hurt less, but he doubted it would have saved his glasses. The left lens cracked, and the frame bent. Oh, the curse of superficiality. At least he didn't need them. He rolled onto his back and threw the broken glasses aside. Above him the black smoke circled. His eyes widened and if he had the time he would have screamed, but it swooped down and grabbed him by the collar. It slammed him against the wall, leaving him kicking with his feet dangling above the floor. Great, this was how he was going to die, killed by an evil piece of toast.

His ringtone could just about be heard beneath the growl of the shadowy beast. Carlos wriggled free and dropped to the floor. He grabbed his phone and crawled back towards the bed. The monster grabbed his leg before he could make it. He put the phone onto speaker, which was the only way he could hear of the primal growls anyway, and let it drop to the floor as he clung to the bed's leg for dear life.

"Cecil." He yelled into the receiver.

"Hey Carlos, are you okay? Are you still holding out?" Asked Cecil.

"No, not okay. Not really holding out either." The spirit tug on his legs to the point where Carlos thought it was going to pull it straight out of the socket. The fear filled sweat threated to force his palms to the slip loose and send him flying.

"Okay, don't worry. I've got some of your scientist friends here. They say to try and make yourself some sort of shelter out of mud and bones until the whole thing blows over."

"Where am I supposed to get mud and bones from?" Carlos shouted, both out of frustration and an attempt to get above the growing noise.

"Don't you have that stuff in an emergency pack? You were never a scout, were you?"

"No, Cecil, I wasn-"His grip finally failed. The spirit slammed him into the floor. Pain seared through his head as the beast dragged him towards the door. He clawed desperately at the wooden planks in an attempt to slow him down, but it was doing nothing.

"Carlos, are you still there? Carlos?" Distress began to build in Cecil's voice. Carlos couldn't reply, his mind wasn't capable to process words under the circumstances. Instead he could just about let out a scream, which offered a small bit of relief from the built-up stress, but it wasn't going to save him. "Okay, just...just let me cut to the weather. I'm coming. D-don't go anywhere."

He would have liked to yell back 'where on Earth do would I go?', which he thought he conveyed pretty well through a series of yells. The monster forced him back into the kitchen. The bread packet, which was now completely empty, littered the floor, along with everything else that wasn't nailed down. In one last ditch shot out survival, he leaped towards the kitchen counter and grabbed the side. It hurt his fingers like crazy, but it was better than dying. He screwed up his eyes and hoped beyond hope that Cecil had some sort of a plan. The spirit was having none of it. It hit from the side, launching him free from the counter. His head crashed into the floor. Nausea filled his entire body as his vision blurred and doubled. Darkness creeped in from the edges, covering everything in shadow, as he watched the attacker disperse across the ceiling.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, though he suspected it was several minutes, but when he finally started to regain consciousness, he couldn't help but notice that something was shaking him by the shoulders. It didn't feel the way it had when he was under attack. Instead of cold and aggressive, it was firm and warm. Someone was speaking, no not speaking, shouting, but he couldn't quite tell what was being said. His head spun as he tried to open his heavy eyes, though even that took all the energy he had.

"Carlos, wake up. Carlos, please wake up." Cecil knelt before him with his hands on gripping his shoulders. Tears filled his eyes. Carlos had never heard him sound so desperate.

"Cecil?" Carlos croaked. He managed to sit up. He could tell everything was going to hurt for a long time.

"Oh, thank God." Cecil wrapped into a crushing hug so tight that Carlos couldn't even move his arms to return the gesture. It didn't help with the pain, but he appreciated the sentiment.

"I'm okay, Cecil. It's okay." Carlos tried to scan the room from his uncomfortable position. A sheriff secret police officer (though they weren't that secret at all) starred down at him. They didn't seem particularly affected by the situation.

"Carlos, this is extremely important." Cecil announced, suddenly ending the hug and grabbing him by the shoulders. "Have you eaten any wheat or wheat-by products in the last 24 hours?"

"What?" Oh right, Carlos was so dazed that he could barely remember how the whole thing started.

"Carlos, please think."

"No, no I don't think so." He wasn't sure if he'd eaten anything in the last 24 hours, but he felt too sick to be hunger.

"See, he's fine." Cecil scowled at the police officer. The figure ignored him and turned his attention to Carlos.

"You the guy Mr Markson sent?" The officer grumbled.

"Yeah, how did you know th-"

"Yeah, we're not touching that. Have a nice day." The officer left through the open door. It looked like it was half kicked off its hinges. So much for the lock.

"Are you sure you're alright? You nearly gave me a heart attack back there." Said Cecil.

"I'm fine. Just a little disoriented." And sick and achy and just generally not great, but he didn't want to upset Cecil further.

"Come on, I'll make you some soup and get those bruises sorted. Unlike you I got my scout's first aid badge." Cecil joked.

"Oh, I could have been amazing if I'd only gone to scouts." Carlos laughed and rolled his eyes.

"I think you're pretty amazing already." Cecil smiled as he helped Carlos stumble to his feet.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to the radio station?"

"Nah, the weather can last as long as I want it to. I've had it last for days before."

"Oh...that's..."

"That's professional radio hosting." Cecil winked.

The weather lasted for hours that day. Cecil's bedside manner was surprisingly good, Carlos could get used to it. The soup he made was heavenly, enhanced by the lack of food throughout the day. It was a much better breakfast than toast, even if it was several hours late. Safe and calm, he couldn't help but fall asleep on the sofa. He woke up at sunrise the next morning, tucked in bed, his previously wrecked kitchen magically cleaned, his broken door suddenly fixed. He beamed. Maybe he should have evil spirits attack him more often.