The Parasite

3: feathers

The brakes squeaked as Dad pulled the truck to a stop, a quiet hiss sounding as the wheels rolled to a halt. The truck came to rest parked atop our little hill where our two story brick house sat hidden in the pine and maple trees.
The same one I had ridden bikes down with my siblings, the same bushes I had caught snakes and piney lizards in.
Dad slowly turned to look over his shoulder at me, palm splayed on the headrest of moms seat so he could face me. His brown eyes met mine and his eyebrows had that trademark crease which meant he was thinking something important. His mouth was open as if he was about to say something.
I didn't give him a chance. I swung my door open and grabbed my phone, the headphones dangling from my clenched fist, and started trekking up the steep driveway towards the wooden steps that led up to the risen porch. The house stared at me with sad, green-shuttered windows and the heavy ornate oak door that looked like a mouth gaping open. Somehow, as I stood there on the porch waiting for my family to slowly crawl out of the truck, I felt the house had lost its sense of familiarity and warmth.
Everyone finally met me on the porch and unlocked the door, which I pushed open a bit too eagerly before disappearing into the dark maw of the house.
I went straight to my room without a word. As I darted in, I breathed a breath of relief. The room was just as I left it: stacks of loose-leaf paper scrawled with ideas lay strewn across the desk and nightstand. There were a few jackets and discarded clothes lying around the hamper; only a few had made it in. It wasn't extremely messy, but it could use some organizing.
I shut the door and flopped on my back onto my bed making the springs squeak. The mattress needed to be replaced.
I plugged in my earbuds, hitting the Breaking Benjamin playlist since it was the first one I saw. I felt the pressure of stress trapped inside my chest, something I was trying to ignore.
The familiar sound of Had Enough began to play in my ears, one of my favorite songs that often got put on replay far too many times. The music filled my head and I tried to unclench my fists and close my eyes. The pressure wasn't going away though, it was moving up to form a lump in my throat and making my breaths shaky.
And then the dam broke.
The whole four hour ride and talk with the doctor, I had been numb and desensitized from the shock. When you can't handle something your brain sort of shuts down and you go into a blank-slate autopilot mode. I had been detached and distant from my situation, as if I hadn't even been in my body. But now that I was home and in my room with no one to see me, I couldn't hold in the torrent of fear and anger anymore.
I just cried.
What was I supposed to do?
I felt like a foolish child, crying with the force of someone retching on the floor on their knees. The tears left shining streaks down my cheeks and arms as I pressed my hands into my closed eyes, spots of light dancing around my vision.
How could I let this happen?
I drew a shaky breath and willed my tears to stop, confused at why I was letting myself act so childish, crying when I'm scared. But none of it made them stop. They only left their warmth against my skin, shimmering. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, making my breathe uneven, sputtering like some sick animal.
My eyes stared up at the off-white popcorn ceiling, my vision wobbling as tears blurred the image. Was it my fault for this happening? What if I had never gone in that water? Would it have happened to Alex? The shapes on the ceiling paint warped and danced as another streak of warmth trailed off my cheek and slid down my lips. The salty taste of the tears crept into the corner of my mouth. I wiped them away quickly, scolding myself for laying here being afraid. It was getting nothing done, it wasn't helping me.
Or maybe it was.
I lay there almost an hour studying the ceiling's abstract shapes, even after dad called that dinner was ready. I didn't want to touch food, let alone try to eat. I had the feeling it would just come up again. What was going to happen now, with this thing a part of me? I had heard it on the news myself, attempted surgeries to remove the parasite from the host resulted in the death of both. Would I just have to live with my new forever companion as if nothing was wrong? Could I even do that? How could I try to live my life while this parasitic hitchhiker squirmed around in my brain, waiting till it accidentally trips the wrong wire?
I brushed a few tufts of tear-wet hair out of my face and lay down on my side, the pillow case pressing against my cheek, cold and soothing. The alarm clock on my nightstand read 9:30.
"I'd better start trying to get some sleep..." I mumbled, voice quivering as I felt the lump still clogging my throat.
I turned off the lamp on the nightstand, hoping for some peace to ease the anxieties flooding through me. It clicked off, plunging the room into a comforting depth-less darkness. The numbers on my alarm clock glowed blue, outlining my hands and pillow in a dim glow. I felt the numbness that had been dwelling in my chest slowly loosen, and a tugging weight of exhaustion push itself forward to take its place. I was staring at the glowing numbers: 9:35, when a heavy blanket of darkness crept over me. I was asleep before I even had time to pull the covers up.
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Even before I opened my eyes, I was consciously awake. But I didn't want to open them. Doing that would mean I was awake and would only make what happened yesterday reality. I preferred to think that maybe it was just a bad dream that I would forget about when I opened my eyes. As if it would just melt away as sleep's grip shed off me like a coat.
But I opened them.
I had fallen asleep on top of my blankets, and somehow hadn't frozen overnight even with the fan on.
I stirred and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Yesterday had worn me out mentally, leaving a dull ache in my head.
Tiredness and dread of what today would bring tugged heavily at my limbs, making it a struggle to slide out of bed and stand up. It felt like two dead weights were clinging to my ankles as I yawned and shuffled slowly out of my room and into the hallway. The wood floors pressed their freezing cold surface into my unsuspecting feet, giving me a jolt. Finally awake from my little cold shock, I went into the bathroom that was at the end of the hall next to the balcony.
I did the normal routine, brushing my messy cropped hair, the wild black locks looking like I had put my head in a wind tunnel. I gave my eyes a quick glance over as I brushed my teeth. The hazel was still a small ring around an unusually large pupil, but it was less shocking that last time. It was a useless thought to believe all of this could have been a dream. 
I finished up and padded out into the hallway, the wood floors creaking underfoot.
Our hallway tapered out into a nice wooden balcony that overlooked the kitchen and dining room, with an ornate banister that looked like it belonged in the 1930's.
I stood at the edge of said balcony leaning on my elbows as I silently observed the dining room and kitchen from above. The Tv was on, blaring news broadcasts that melted into the background noise. Carter and Alex's cackling giggles reached my ears from the dining room. I leaned over the balcony and saw the two stuffing their chubby young faces with waffles and bacon.
Strangely the smell of the food wasn't at all appealing to me, and the usual dull ache of hunger wasn't there. I wondered if I would ever be able to stomach normal food anytime soon. From the looks of it, not so much.
I sat down and put my legs through the slats in the banister to let them hang over the edge of the balcony.
While I watched, Alex leaned over the table and nabbed one of Carter's pancakes, quickly stuffing the whole thing into her mouth and choking back an evil giggle. The older sibling simply frowned and continued eating. Typical Alex.
My attention left my siblings and wandered to the TV that was broadcasting news.
The well-dressed news reporter, with his black hair slicked back with a bit too much hair gel, suddenly was interrupted from his ramblings when a breaking news banner flashed across the screen.
"Now with our Breaking news report: a gruesome day as seven more dead in another attack by a man infected with SV-7. This makes it the second attack this month from infectids, still with no action taken to quarantine recognized SV-7 carriers by the CDC or law enforcement. The man was reportedly biting and attempting to dismember the victims when police arrived. He has now been taken to quarantine where he will be held until further notice.
"Officials seem to have taken notice of the danger that infected persons present, but so far there has been no attempt to separate the healthy from those infected, despite the accumulating numbers of people attacked by SV-7 carriers gone savage. Now we take you to other news--"
A deep frown had carved its way into my features, my expression a disdainful scowl. If any of us had a single sliver of a chance to live our normal lives, it was steadily being whittled down to barely a thread.
That person had lost control. And in doing so they had ruined any chance of coexistence with the public. It had helped a little when the news announced the only way to become infected was contaminated water, or blood to blood contact. But now, with news of attacks being announced by the media every chance they got, the public was eating up the idea that infected people were ravenous killers. Two reports, only two rare reports, had somehow just torn the divide a little deeper.
I would never be like them.
I swore it up and down, to God and back, that I wouldn't become like that man I had just seen on the news. Or like that woman in New York who killed a family of four when she lost it. What those people lacked was self control, and most of all sympathy from the public. The last thing someone with SV-7 needed was to have everyone pointing their pitchforks at their throat when they already were struggling to keep themselves calm enough to function.
But I had one thing they didn't; I had Alex and Carter. I needed to protect them, and  with that responsibility I knew I would never fly off the handle like those people did. The key to fighting SV-7 was self control, keeping calm. With everything I had I would make sure I never ever let it win. Not with my siblings to guard.
I stood up and trotted down the hall back to my room. I snatched my grey hoodie from the clothes hook and shrugged it on. I stepped into my combat boots and slid my pocket knife into the strapped on sheath before walking to my window. It slid open easily and I put my legs through first, ducking to get my head clear of the frame, as I slipped out of my room and onto the roof.
I steadied my boots on the slippery shingles of the rooftop as I looked down on the forest that skirted my backyard. Our property rode up along a huge nature preserve, one that stretched for acres and had been Carter's, Alex's, and my stomping grounds for years. There was a cold wind blowing, meaning fall was in full swing. It blew it's chilly breath through my boy-cut hair, making my exposed ears freeze. I pulled my hood up before trotting over to the large oak tree beside the roof. Balancing carefully I stepped off the rooftop and into the burley twisted branches. They swayed gently in the wind as I climbed down and reached the ground. My combat boots landed with a dull thud in the crunchy autumn leaves. I dusted off my  palms on my jeans before continuing to walk in the direction of the woods with a confident hunter's gait.
I had used this secret escape for years now, ever since the oak's branches began to reach the roof when I was little. It had led to endless midnight forest explorations, as well as an escape from home when I needed space.
The maple trees swayed, shaking their remaining leaves and bone-bare limbs in the wind as I walked underneath. Their skeletal branches scraped at the concrete-grey sky. It would rain soon.
I didn't let the threat of a storm scare me off; I trekked on through the maple, oak, and towering pine until the trees began to grow much closer together. As I walked, the forest became thicker, with bushes and holly clinging to the tree trunks and making it harder to navigate between them.
I breathed the scent of pine bark and fresh spice of wild ivy, mixing with the sweet clover and pine needles that I trampled underfoot.
I needed the fresh air. It helped clear my thoughts and keep me calm, all my stress dissipating into the swaying maple and pine. I could forget about SV-7 or my anxieties. I didn't need to think here, I could just breathe. That was also something those people on the news lacked: a haven.
My hazel eyes scanned the tree canopy overhead, shards of sunlight slicing through the trees and leaves, dancing on the forest floor in dapples of gold. The trail I followed was an old deer trail, worn down by countless passing animals that pounded plants and bushes down to make a clear walkway straight through the thickets. I had walked it at least a hundred times; I practically knew it by heart. I could walk it with my eyes closed.
As my boots tapped a steady rhythm crunching through the pine needles and fallen autumn maple leaves, my eyes caught something small and out of place blowing in the wind across the path. I stopped and bent down to examine it.
Feathers. Clumps of them. Grey fuzzy down feathers, a few ruffled primaries, a whole LOT of feathers.
There were handfuls, crusted with small spots of sticky blood.
"A hawk or owl kill?" I mused out loud, picking up a clump and studying it. It wasn't the first time I had found evidence of a fresh animal's kill. Being a hunter myself, I found it rather easy to track down the predator and catch a glimpse of how nature ruled with an iron fist. I glanced further down the trail and saw a flash of movement. It was quick, like a flutter, and gone again.
"There you are..." I whispered, kneeling. The last thing I wanted to do was spook the predator off its meal and make the prey's death a waste of life. I remained silent and hidden in the shadow of a pine, waiting for the creature to show itself.
There was a tiny flitting sound of something flopping around in the leaves, feeble and light. My eyes remained focused as a small grey shape flopped rapidly along the ground and onto the trail.
A dove.
"Someone left you behind..." I breathed "poor thing,"
I couldn't just leave it there. Something inside me urged me to get back to my feet and go towards it, maybe some maternal or compassionate instinct.
I stood up and walked forward, easily catching up to the injured bird. It saw me and panicked, flapping its one good wing madly but only managing to throw itself around in the leaves pitifully. I could see the trail of dark red blood, nearly black, that it smeared across the orange leaves in its flurry of wings. "Shh, slow down," I said quietly, trying to keep my voice level. I gently scooped up the bird in my hands, holding its wings to its sides so it didn't try to take a leap from my hands and hurt itself further.
It's warm fluffy body quivered against my palms with panicked breaths, it's tiny beady black eyes full of pain and fear. I sat down slowly, holding the bird close to my chest to keep it out of the cold wind. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I mumbled, inspecting the bird. It's left wing hung limply at an odd angle, and I could see tufts of feathers were missing or sticky with blood coming from a large gash in its breast.
No doubt some predator had snatched it and dropped the dove, and was either unable to find it again it was startled off.
I sat cross legged and untied one of my boots. I slipped my sock off and turned it inside out. It would at least help to stifle some of the bleeding, and since I didn't have any tissues or bandages with me, it would have to work. I put my boot back on and began to doctor the bird's injury.
As I tried to dab the flow of blood from the birds bleeding chest, the smell finally struck me. I hadn't been expecting to have it suddenly slam into my senses like a derailed train, but indeed it did. It was like something was suddenly switched on while I sat there on the forest floor in the chilly wind.  It was a rusty warm smell, like old metal and the breathy moist scent of life. It was a musky perfume all animals have, the mixture of pumping blood shrouded in warm quivering flesh, mingling with the damp exhalations of tiny lungs, letting out that...that intoxicating scent.
Why hadn't I noticed it before? There was something so familiar about it, like it was hovering in the back of my mind from something long forgotten.
It lingered in my senses, like the smell of thanksgiving lingers. It sticks to you, to your clothes, to your memory, everything. It was a permeating scent, clinging to my attention and each breath I took. And now it was sticking to this tiny shivering, breathing thing between my palms. I could feel it's shuddering warmth pressing into my skin, a tiny pumping heartbeat fluttering through folds of feathers and vibrating into my bones.
I felt my breathing stifle, like I didn't want to exhale the scent, or lose the sense of life from the thing, the ever so frightened object in my hands. There was something so addicting to the momentary sensation. I felt my fingers tighten their hold a little, as if I couldn't let go. I wouldn't let go. Something like a drug was emanating from this thing, something I had never noticed before. Why hadn't I noticed it before?
And then, just as quickly as the scent had hit me, the whole world suddenly fell away like leaves from a tree and I was plunged into a soundless, scent-less blackness.
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My mind slowly rose up out of the heavy black murk of sleep, having difficulty finding consciousness at first. As I slowly awoke, I was greeted by the strong scent of pine air freshener. Mom must have just sprayed down the house with cleaner, which meant I had majorly slept in since she never woke up before me.
I rolled over, half expecting to find my pillow, but my head just landed with a dull thud on nothing. Had I kicked it off the bed? That would make sense, as well as the thought that the cold soaking though my bones was from me kicking off my covers and laying exposed to the chill. I always did that, and always awoke to this cold clinging to my skin.
I stirred from the strange blackness that I had been wrapped in and brought a hand to my face to wipe off the drool I felt on my cheek. I always did that too. My fingers met the cold damp, stickiness coating my skin, and suddenly I froze.
The realization dawned on me: I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't at home. I was in the woods, alone.
I sat bolt upright with a small yelp, eyes wide. I was alone in the middle of the woods, but as I scanned my surroundings I didn't recognize anything. I wasn't in the familiar old deer trail, I was in the middle of thick brush and close-together pine trees. I had walked these woods a million times, I had never been lost. And now I didn't recognize a single thing. My eyes darted around erratically, when they fell on my hands. It looked like I was wearing red gloves: shiny, smeared red gloves.
The realization hit me like a train: Blood.
My heart slammed into my throat and I scrambled to my feet. My breathing hitched; I could feel my heart thudding against my ribs, the dull roaring of pumping blood in my ears. As I stood in the unfamiliar setting of wherever I was, I looked down. At my feet were handfuls of feathers. Like some animal had torn a feather pillow to shreds and strewn then across the forest floor, blowing along with the rust colored leaves. My mind began piecing it together, like a messed up puzzle or the way a drunk remembers the night before when he's in a hangover. I brought my hands up to touch my face. The stickiness that I had felt earlier was a coat of blood. I fell backwards and landed on my butt, viscously trying to wipe away the substance, clawing at it. A frightened, animal like cry ripped from my throat. I needed to get it off, I had to! I kicked away the feathers, scooting backward rapidly until my back hit a pine, all the while shaking and gasping like some deranged animal. I squeezed my eyes shut and feebly dragged myself away from the sight of the bloody feathers, feverishly wiping the blood off my hands and arms on my jeans.
It clung to me, like a sick reminder of what had happened. My head was spinning. I choked back a sob, sinking to forest floor and curling into a ball, shaking violently. This couldn't the happening. This was a horrible dream. I had to wake up soon. There was no way any of this had happened.
I hung my head over my knees and felt tears begin to slowly soak through my jeans. They slipped through my fingers despite my hands pressed against my eyes to stop them. They made the drying blood run again, easing down my wrists and arms. The smell was pungent, a metallic sickly strong scent permeating my skin, my clothes, everything. I felt sick, like I could hurl any moment. But knowing what had happened, I knew seeing what was in my stomach would make it even worse.
I managed to shakily stand, knees wobbling pathetically. Another choked sob rattled from my throat and I stumbled forward, before my eyes caught sight of something...familiar.
About thirty yards ahead, tangled in the low lying branches of a massive oak, were old weathered wooden boards nailed in place. Our old tree house.
I gasped, suddenly realizing where I was at. I must have traveled at least a few hundred or so yards off course into the thickest part of our woods. The familiarity seemed to calm my crazed panic state, even though it only lasted a few seconds.
I quickly stumbled through the thicket and forced the thick bushes aside, their prickly leaves scratching my skin.  I didn't care, I didn't feel anything. All I was focused on was that tree house.
I reached the tree where the remnants of our old hangout were, and found myself back on the deer trail. I had never been happier to see the worn down, dirt trail and trampled weeds beneath my boots.
I tried to ignore the cold wetness of the blood sticking to my face and hands, and instead shuffled onward, shivering, towards home.

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A/N; please alert me to any spelling or grammar errors, and thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed and would like to see more, please drop me a comment or a vote if you like.