Through the shadow of death...

[thegreatexperiment]

"I don't know, I thought it was a little too Avant-garde." Sam had only recently learned the term and she always felt incredibly proud of herself when she was able to use it. Especially around Uncle Tom and his girlfriend Tina. They were just so...cool.

Tom chuckled, his breath coming out in foggy clouds that drifted up into the starry sky. "You think so, kiddo?" He turned to look at Tina, wrapping his arm around her waist. "How about you?"

"Well," she said, "I'd certainly be interested to know the motive behind using nothing but stringed instruments for the entire second act. Maybe they were trying to convey the mother's longing for simplicity?"

The rock opera had been Sam's birthday present. Her parents had offered to throw her a big, blow-out sweet sixteen, but that hadn't been of much interest. She didn't have a lot of friends and, anyway, she was probably going to be graduating early and heading off to college. No point in wasting time or money on the elitist high school snobs she had to see day after day after day. She was much happier just hanging with Tom and Tina. She wanted to be part of their world, to speak their language, to use terms like 'Avant-garde' and be taken absolutely seriously. It was the perfect birthday. Not that Sam had much of a basis for comparison.

It was freezing outside of the theatre. As the three of them followed the crowd into the parking lot, they huddled together, bundled up in heavy coats and mittens. "Or maybe they couldn't afford to hire a pianist," Tom teased.

"No, there was definitely a piano in the first act," Tina said. "I remember during the daughter's first song."

Sam walked along with them, fondly surveying the other audience members. She loved how creative people, when they congregated, immediately began to analyze everything. All around her, small clusters of shivering theatre-goers were discussing the meaning of this, that, and the other thing. Like scientists, they hypothesized and experimented and drew conclusions. It was the ultimate fusion, really, of everything that Sam loved. But as her blue eyes swept over the rosy and excited expressions of the crowd, she noticed someone who didn't seem the same.

He was tall and lanky, with golden blond hair falling to his shoulders. It wasn't just that he was staring at her with intense, hooded eyes that set Sam on her guard. It was his whole bearing. Muscled bulged from beneath the thin fabric of his black tee shirt. Roman profile. A tee shirt. In the middle of an Illinois January. He wasn't shivering. He barely seemed aware of the cold. And no foggy clouds of breath streamed from his face as he breathed.

"Sammie?" Tom's voice cut into her thoughts abruptly. "Sammie?"

"What?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Do you agree?"

Sam shook her head, smiling with embarrassment. "Sorry, I was thinking about something."

"That's what I like about this one," Tom said, draping his arm across her shoulders. "Always thinking. That's why she's my favorite niece."

She snorted. "That and the fact that I'm your only niece."

"That too." He leaned over, giving her temple a big, noisy kiss. She closed her eyes, feeling his warmth wash over her. Tina's laughter rang out like a bell into the night. And Sam tried to think if she'd ever been happier in her whole life.

Not really.

"She's going to be a niece-cicle pretty soon," Tina said. "Where the hell did you park?"

"Just around the corner," Tom said, steering the two of them around a dumpster.

Sam opened her eyes. And all of a sudden, he was there. Out of nowhere. The blond man from before, the one who'd been staring at her. Tom and Tina came skidding to a stop, jerking Sam back with them. And she wondered where he'd come from. "What beautiful hair you have," he said, eyes boring straight into her. Self-consciously, Sam brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "The color of a fawn's hide."

It was the strangest description of red hair she'd ever heard.

He reached out, as if he were about to touch her hair, but Tom pulled her further back. "Hey, hey, hey," he said. "I think you've had a little too much."

But Sam couldn't smell any alcohol.

"Is she yours?" the stranger asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at Tom.

"She's my niece," Tom said. He was about a head shorter than the other man, but still stared up at him defiantly.

Much to Sam's surprise, the stranger's expression brightened. "Ah," he said. "Then she is not." And with one brisk, sweeping gesture of his powerful arm, he shoved Tom aside, knocking him against the side of the dumpster.

"Tom!" Tina shouted.

Ignoring both of them, the stranger brushed his fingers along the line of Sam's jaw. "You are so beautiful," he said. "I must--"

"Knock it off." Tom slapped his hand, knocking it away from Sam's face.

"You dare question my claim to the girl?"

"The girl is underaged, buddy."

"And not interested," Sam added, as Tina began to pull her back.

"Hush," Tina commanded her.

Tom stood defiantly, between the man and Sam. His hot breath was coming out fast and furious, his fists balled to either side of his body. David and Goliath, Sam found herself thinking, staring at the way the stranger towered over her uncle. A nagging sense of fear was beginning to claw its way up Sam's throat. "Let's go," she whispered.

"We're going," Tina said. "Tom."

Tom took a step back, ready to follow. But the man stepped forward. "Leave us alone," Tom warned him.

"Out of my way," the stranger replied.

He took another step. And Tom pushed him back. The stranger pushed him. And suddenly, the two of them were grabbing each other's shoulders, shoving back and forth like they were on the wrestling squad. Tina let out a scream. Somewhere in the distance, Sam could hear running feet as the squabble drew attention. Tom punched the stranger in the jaw. He barely even seemed to register it. He was like a marble statue and Tom was clearly in pain. The stranger laughed, slapping him with the back of his head. Tom's turned sharply to the side and he stumbled, crashing the side of the dumpster.

The corner of the dumpster.

Tom collapsed, crumpling into a heap on the sidewalk. Something dark and wet splashed against the snowbank to one side. It sent a small hiss of steam into the air.

For just a second, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Tina surged forward, reaching out to Tom. And stumbling and alone, Sam turned to look at the blond man. There was something different about his face. It had...changed. His eyes were still dark and brooding. And he still had that Roman profile. But there was something about his...about his mouth. Sam blinked, trying to comprehend. He had a predatory little sneer. And his canine teeth were gleaming like...

The world snapped back into real time. Fast forward even. Tina was screaming and there were running footsteps and when Sam blinked...the stranger was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

She turned to look down at Tina. She was shaking Tom, screaming and shouting incomprehensibly. His head wobbled unnaturally on his neck, red dots splattering the snow. His eyes were open, staring up at the sky. But Sam knew, in some hidden, instinctual part of herself, that he couldn't see them.