Beast

As they drove down the bumpy road towards the lake house, any fears Cain had had about their new living arrangements slowly melted away. The tangle of trees on their left reached high into the air, throwing shade over the road and allowing a strange, green sort of light to seep through their leaves. On their right, the houses were spaced far apart, with barriers of trees and vegetation in between. Each dwelling was secluded in its own, quiet little world of kayaks, and fishing boats, and kitschy beach decor. It was a perfect place to lay low and go unnoticed. Also, it would have been obvious if they were being followed.

Even though Ray was driving well below the posted speed limit, Celine had to tense up her muscles and hold on to the edge of her seat as the car jostled down the narrow road. She was relieved when he finally pulled into the driveway of a brown, a-frame house.

"There's a spare key under the doormat," Ray told them as they got out of the car and walked up the front steps of the porch. "I don't know how long you're gonna be here, but it gets pretty cold in the winter. They keep a pile of firewood outside, right over there," As he explained this, Ray pointed to the right, where a pile of logs was stacked among a tangle of overgrown weeds and brambles. Celine followed Ray's gaze as Cain stooped down and retrieved the key to the house.

As Cain opened the storm door, Ray said, "As far as food goes, I think my brother-in-law keeps some stuff stocked up here. I don't know why, but I guess that works out for you guys. If that's no good, there's a grocery store about five miles away."

Cain unlocked the door and went inside as Ray gave Celine directions.

Cain looked around curiously as he walked inside. You could tell that this was someone's home. There was a bucket of water shoes and flip flops, things the kids would no longer need now that they were at school, next to the front door. The walls were covered in family photographs. A lot of them showed kids, a little boy and girl, covered in sand, smiling up at the camera as they proudly presented the sand castle they had made, or a bucket with a little minnow they had caught. On one of the shelves, Cain saw a stack of Disney princess movies, and he wondered vaguely if Jaya still liked those or if she had gotten too old for that kind of thing.

Everything was second hand, selected for purpose, not luxury. The couch looked lumpy and the TV was ten years out of date, but that was fine because the family who lived there over the summer was there for the lake, and the people occupying it now only wanted a roof over their heads.

"Nikki goes down to South Carolina to visit her parents every couple of weeks. When she's gone, I'll try to come back up here. Maybe I can bring you guys a change of clothes or some food. If you don't need anything else, I should go. Traffic's gonna be bad going back," Ray said, watching Cain as he absorbed his surroundings.

"Alright," Cain nodded.

"Good luck, man. And be careful. You know where to find me if you need anything," Ray said, thumping Cain on the back and walking back out to his car. You could hear Ray's keys jingling as he made his way over the gravel.

"Thanks," Celine called out to him.

"Anytime," Ray said, waving once and smiling, then getting in his car and backing out of the driveway.

The front door was closed and locked again, and Cain and Celine stood there in silence, she watching him, and he looking around the room as if he didn't notice.

"We should," Cain began, before breaking out into a fit of coughing, "we should, um, have a look around, yeah?"

"Okay," Celine said quietly, trailing behind him as he examined the house, opening cabinets and looking under beds.

When they got to the basement, they found a small office space tucked in the corner. There were bags of pretzels and Oreos hidden in one of the filing cabinets and Celine felt a sharp stab of panic, wondering if Ray's brother-in-law ever came up here to work or get away from his wife and kids. She brushed this away as paranoia, ignoring the fact that, as someone traveling with a convicted felon, she had every reason to be paranoid.

"So, when are we meeting Ari?" Celine asked tentatively.

"We're not," said Cain in an almost mocking tone.

Celine rolled her eyes, "Okay, when are you meeting him?"

"Three days," Cain replied shortly, turning away from Celine to discover the rest of the house.

She sat at the desk chair, revolving on the spot as she took in the damp, dark basement. Her nose wrinkled as she breathed in the smell of stagnant water. There was something metallic and rusty about it. Celine pilfered through the desk, finding nothing but paper clips and dried out highlighters. The computer, an out of date model like the television upstairs, was unplugged, and next to it were a pile of children's computer games. Probably something for the kids to do on rainy days.

"Celine!" Cain called from upstairs. Startled, she jumped up. Since the escape, Cain had hardly called her by name, and she had definitely not heard that tone of worry in his voice.

"What is it?" she asked. As she walked towards him, she saw a newspaper in his hands.

"I took this from the neighbor's recycle bin. Look at this," he explained as he shoved the paper into Celine's hands.

A feeling like ice water being dripped on her back overcame Celine as she read the article.

TROUBLE FOR THE FORTIS: A curious combination of events over the past week has everyone running scared and questioning the capabilities of the Fortis agency. Just four days ago, the dangerous felon, Cain Hammedy, disappeared from his room at St. Jean Memorial. As many of us know, Hammedy was admitted to the hospital after he suffered a nervous breakdown and committed a series of violent crimes. Less than a day later, more than one hundred sanguinarium escaped from a Fortis research lab in Washington D.C., while in San Diego, a Fortis agent was viciously attacked by the sanguinarius he was studying. This begs the question, are these mere coincidences, or is someone sabotaging the Fortis?

Celine's brows knitted together in anger as she read the first paragraph of the article, which continued on pages six, twelve, and fifteen.

"This is garbage!" she said angrily. "This reporter woman just writes whatever she wants and no one even cares to check the facts?"

Cain chuckled, "I know, but that's not the most important part."

Celine sighed, crumpling up the paper in her hands. "Oh, I know. What do you think? Is this mess in Washington D.C. a good thing or a bad thing for us?"

Cain thought for a moment, "I don't know. It's bad because I can bet that they're going to try to link me to it in some way. They don't think," as he said this, he tapped his index finger on his temple. "I wouldn't have been able to even get to Washington D.C. in that amount of time, let alone break into some lab and lead a charge of sanguinarium. We won't really know what this means though until we figure out how they escaped and who helped them."

"You think someone helped them?" Celine asked, looking at him curiously.

"Oh yeah. Definitely. I never would have gotten out of there if it hadn't been for you, and you can bet that the security on a place holding that many sanguinarium is a lot tighter than the security around me. Yeah, they had to have had help."

"So whoever helped them must be on a our side?" Celine mused.

Cain shrugged. "Maybe. Can't be too sure about anything. It might just be a trap."

"For who?" Celine asked.

Cain shrugged again, "Anyone."

Celine let out a deep, aggravated breath, smoothing her hands over her hair. "Did the article say anything about me?"

Cain took the paper back from her and flipped to page fifteen, "Yeah," he said, pointing to a small paragraph towards the end. "It's some crap about how you're this little victim. Some kind of Stockholm syndrome bullshit."

Celine scoffed, turning away from the paper in disgust. She was no victim. She was not some sad, confused little girl. She was a woman, and she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn't with Cain because it was what she wanted to do. She was with him because it was the right thing to do. She knew things about the Fortis that would make that meek little reporter run for cover.

Cain put the paper down somewhere behind him. "That might be a good thing, though. If they're not tracking you down like a criminal, it might be easier for you to slip by."

Celine didn't say anything.

"What we need to do now is set this place up as our headquarters. We need to collect newspapers, see what they're telling the public and get an idea of what's going on out there. We also need to write down the facts," Cain explained calmly, and Celine felt a jolt of encouragement. They were finally about to begin Project Takedown, the name with which Cain had christened their mission.

"We'll need Ari to fill in a lot of the gaps, but we can at least get a start," Cain said, sounding happier than he had in a long time. This newspaper, however erroneous it may have been, had sparked something within him. It was as if this thing from the real world, the world in which he had once belonged so well, had shaken him, brought him back to reality and reminded him of what he needed to do.

Three days later, Celine woke up to the sound of birds chirping and a slight breeze blowing through the trees. These were sounds never heard in the city. They had been sleeping in the kids' room. Celine had taken the bed with the pink blankets, and Cain had taken the one with the Buzz Lightyear sheets. She sat up, stretching as she looked at the empty bed across the room. Cain must have gotten up early for his meeting with Ari.

She went to the bathroom to examine herself in the mirror, a ritual she had started their first morning at the lake house.

In just one short week, Celine was barely recognizable. Her once attractive, keen features were now gaunt and hollow looking. There was a gray tinge to her skin and her hair was greasy and unkempt. This woman in the mirror was not her. Celine leaned in closer, raising a hand to her face as she studied the slope of her nose and the curve of her thin, pale lips.

She took a step back, peeled off her dirty cloths and stepped into the shower. She felt weird as she turned on the icy water and picked up the bottle of shampoo. These things weren't hers and she felt awkward about using them without permission. Cain had reminded her though that everything they used they would be able to replace. It was a means to an end, and quite unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

A few minutes later, Celine stepped out of the shower, went to the linen closet to find a towel to wrap around herself, then started the hunt for a pair of scissors. It took a while for Celine to find anything sharper than children's safety scissors, but she eventually stumbled across a sewing kit in the master bedroom.

She took the pair of fabric scissors and went back to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, she quickly combed her fingers through her hair. Celine took a deep breath, as if preparing for a race, then took a section of hair and cut it off. She went slowly and neatly, cutting small sections of hair until her blond locks were choppy and short. There was something liberating about it, having new hair to match her new look and her new life.

She looked in the mirror, brushing hair off her shoulders and admiring her work for a moment before she began cleaning up the bathroom and changed back into her cloths. Celine wasn't sure what had made her do it, it was just something that she knew had to be done. Maybe it was that she would be harder to recognize now, or maybe it was her desire to shed this heavy, leaden skin from her former life. Either way, Celine felt refreshed, renewed, and ready to do what was necessary.