Halloween: Through My Window

Halloween had worked out poorly, but Jacob tried to understand the circumstances, even as he sat at his desk, in his bedroom, in the home in which he'd grown up. His first year of University ought to have come with parties, the possibility of a little under-aged drinking, the chance to get out from under his parents' watchful eye and experience a tiny bit of independent living.

Maybe even meet a girl, Jacob sighed.

Sadly, as he'd learned from friends currently living on campus and attending classes, the straitjacketing of the students and other restrictions had made the whole place at least as bad as the option he'd taken -- online classes from home.

Sure, the family house had a decent Internet connection and he could learn from there, but Jacob still felt ripped off. His older brother, Bill, had left home early enough to get the full University experience. The guy even had a degree now and a job that let him keep working through the whole mess of "quarantine" and "social distancing".

Not me, he sighed, stuck at home with Mom and Dad.

As it happened, however, his parents had gone off for the night, attending a party small enough they wouldn't get charged or fined under the restrictions put in place at the beginning of the month.

Leaving me at home without even the nine people to keep me company I could legally have, Jacob shook his head, wishing at least one, maybe two of his friends hadn't gone off to a far flung campus somewhere. Dammit.

He stood up from his desk, flipped off his bedroom light and ignored the homework on the little laptop for a moment, turning and walking over to look out his bedroom window. The overall plan for his education, Jacob acknowledged, made a lot of sense. He could get through school in a slightly boring way and come out of it with a university degree, by which time the corona virus and all the crap associated with it should have long passed.

Halloween shouldn't be wasted this way, though, he protested with a shake of his head, and it's a Halloween on a Saturday with a full moon!

Jacob watched that moon rise to the tips of the trees behind his house, silhouetting the very tallest of them as they towered watchfully over the old subdivision.

Cold as fuck out there, he sighed, but the house seemed too close, too warm and too stuffy.

With a shrug, daring the cold to enter his room and chill his frustrations, he unlocked the little safety peg at the centre of the frame and slid the old storm window aside on its rails. Behind it, a screen protected against the entry of mosquitoes. This too he slid aside, knowing that the mosquitoes had left sometime between when the summer heat had drained away and when the leaves had turned colour and fallen.

In the distance, Jacob heard a crack, a sound that rolled a bit like thunder, but at the volume of an amateur's firecracker.

Someone else having fun, he thought, someone who isn't me.

Jacob jerked as the moon seemed to flicker in front of him. He brushed a stray strand of his dark hair aside from his eyes and leaned out to look more carefully. For a moment, he could have sworn he'd seen a trail of smoke crossing the face of that perfect, bright circle. He squinted and stared.

Again!

The trail started thin, black and narrow, almost completely opaque. But in less than a second, it widened and dissipated, leaving nothing for any witness who hadn't stared directly at it.

Another crack sounded, louder and closer.

Strangest goddamn fire crackers, Jacob's face twisted in wonder, unless somebody's got a weird-ass drone out there. Do they make drones that fast? With smoke trails?

He listened to the soft, cold breeze playing through the trees, wondering if such a wind could really diffuse a smoke trail as quickly as he'd just seen.

In the air above his window, Jacob heard a fast, hissing sound, a swish through the air so loud and close that he flinched and ducked his head. The black trail appeared overhead, heading directly away from his window, dissipating as it went. This time, however, he got a long look at it until it disappeared over the trees.

What the hell? How many of these are in the sky tonight?

Jacob felt he would have heard about a drone that could do that and, now that he'd seen it, he couldn't imagine a drone creating that much smoke.

How much mass can a drone carry, anyway?

More smoke trails appeared, crisscrossing the sky, filling it with flitting black arrowheads which zigged and zagged apparently at random. The sky cracked with anger and a green burst fired out of one of the moving clouds.

Jacob stared in fascination as the sky became a conflagration of green beams of light and thunderous cracks, all punctuated with the creepy, sizzling sounds generated by whatever lay at the front of each smoke trail.

The night sky cleared suddenly, the black jets going off in different directions and spreading out, leaving an eerie silence behind. A moment later, Jacob became aware of a distinctive, low rumble almost ominous in nature as it grew in volume.

They're all coming back?

With a horrific, tearing sound, hordes of the little trails converged in the sky overhead and a horrendous crack tore through the night, a green flash emanating from where their paths crossed.

Have the idiots smashed up all their drones?

But, no, Jacob could see that most of the trails continued on past the point of intersection. All but one them, at least, which tumbled in a slow spin toward the ground.

It's going to come down right in the forest behind our house, he realized, peering at it more closely in the moonlight, now that it had slowed down.

Whoever controlled it, however, still had a bit of juice left. The thing at the head of the smoke trail righted itself, ceased its spin and set itself on a track.

It's coming toward the house, Jacob realized, hoping it wouldn't hit the roof. Maybe the drone will make it, or at least crash in the front yard.

At the last moment, however, as the hiss grew to the loudest sound he'd heard yet, the mysterious shape at the head of the black smoke trail dipped directly toward him.

"Shit!" Jacob shouted, jumping back onto his bed.

The hissing, smoking mess flew through his window, right in front of his face, narrowly missing him as it filled his room with choking, black smoke. It crashed into his dresser across against the far wall with a thunderous crack of breaking wood.

==================================

Jacob rubbed the back of his head where it had struck his bed's wooden headboard and surveyed his room. Too much had happened all at once for him to even feel anger at that point. Urgency ruled his concerns. The stupid drone would probably keep belching its black smoke inside his room until he either stomped on it or threw it back out his window. But how could he find the infernal device in a room full of sulphurous-smelling black smoke?

And god, what damage did it do? That crack it made on collision sounded awful.

To his surprise, once his vision cleared of stars and little black spots, the room didn't seem smoky at all. A brief, grey-ish haze hung over the room, but even that quickly dissipated.

In the darkness, Jacob peered toward his dresser and saw a large, amorphous dark pile of... of what? He tried to remember if he'd left a hamper of laundry for the drone to smash into.

At least it isn't smoking, or whirring around trying to get airborne again.

The pile twitched and Jacob jumped.

Then it moaned.

What. The. Fuck.

Jacob moved quickly across his room toward the door, his instincts driving him thoughtlessly in that direction with the twin concerns of shedding light on the situation and making an escape available should the light reveal something dangerous.

The moment he flipped the light switch on, filling the room with a blinding light, the shape on the ground moaned again.

"No light," it begged, weak and hoarse, holding its black-cloth covered arm over its face. "They'll see."

The voice, Jacob realized, sounded female, and it didn't excite him to feel threatened. His instinct to maintain a path of retreat dissipated as quickly as the black smoke had faded. She needed help and she feared someone finding her.

Without a further thought, he doused the lights, immediately sorry for having endangered her.

She shifted again, moaning, her half-raised body collapsing to the floor. Though the smoke had left, the smells of char, sulphur and other, more awful burning odours still lingered.

She's hurt, whoever she is.

Jacob knelt next to her and, by the faint light from his dimmed laptop screen across the room, he inspected her. She smelled of burning fabric and the black layers she wore looked tattered and frayed. He made out the hue of her skin made as an extraordinarily pallor, a trick of the light lending her a tint of green.

"What happened?" he whispered to her.

She twitched, her eyes opening as if she'd lost and suddenly regained consciousness.

"The window," she breathed urgently. "Close it... quickly."

Her voice commanded respect, even in its weakness, and Jacob leapt up to obey, sliding the screen shut and locking it. The thicker glass window, however, remained jammed against his attempts to slide it even the least bit.

"Good enough," she breathed to him across the room. "Good enough..."

Outside the window, now that he could pay attention, Jacob made out the sounds of swishing overhead. Black trails darted across the sky, aimless and confused.

Are they searching for her? Planning to finish her off? Apparently I don't need to close the glass part of the window, but won't she get cold?

He returned to her side.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. "What can I do?"

She only moaned, her bleary eyes fluttering closed.

Jacob considered his options. Despite everything that had happened, including what he had come to understand as a great battle waged across the sky over his house, the woman had crashed through his window and destroyed his dresser but still seemed to be in one piece. On the other hand, she smelled burnt, could be bleeding, and might need help and protection.

Leaning over, he slid his arms through her rags and under her body, finding her shoulders and the undersides of her knees.

Good god, she's tiny.

Upright, she would probably stand only a little shorter than he, but she couldn't weigh more than forty-five or maybe fifty kilos. Gently but easily, Jacob lifted her and laid her on his bed. As he shifted her weight to slide her frail body out of his arms, he felt a wetness soaking through the clothing under her back.

Blood! he realized instantly.

"I'll get some bandages," Jacob declared and instantly realized she couldn't hear him in her state.

He ran out his bedroom door, down the hall and into the bathroom. Tearing through the cabinets, he found a towel and the first aid kit and ran back to her.

"Sorry," he whispered, "but I need a bit of light for this."

With the hissing passes of her enemies still whistling outside, he put his laptop on his chair and wheeled it over towards his bed so the dim, pale light from the screen shone on his patient. As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, he got his first real look at her, covered as she was in tattered black rags.

Her face, in profile, showed a deep pain despite her unconscious state. Her skin looked a pale and sickly green that told him she'd taken a lot of damage and probably lost a lot of blood.

But even then, should she look so... green?

Jacob longed to turn on his bedroom ceiling fixture to cast a warmer coloured light on her skin, but she'd demonstrated fear of discovery that way and he didn't want to upset her.

Instead, he gently pushed her over on her side so he could see her back. Her black rags had grown wet in their layers and he had to peel them off her flesh.

Such a small body! Jacob thought as the removal of the last layer revealed her narrow back and spine, and so much blood.

A wave of queasiness spent itself in short order as he reasserted control of his body. Whoever she was, she needed his help and he couldn't wimp out now. Dabbing gently, he used the towel to remove as much of the excess blood as he could. The cut, when he finally discovered it, was only a few centimetres long -- maybe as long as his thumb.

Not bad, it just bled a lot. Okay.

He used the rubbing alcohol and a small sponge to clean the cut as best he could and slapped a piece of thick gauze over it, taping it down with spool of tape from the kit.

Now it just needs pressure.

Jacob rolled her onto her back again, hoping the pressure of her body on the bandage would be enough.

I hope that was the only cut. I didn't see anything else.

The woman... the girl?... only moaned softly.

"It's alright," he whispered into her ear as he knelt beside the bed. "You're safe here."

Thinking about the sounds outside and his utter lack of comprehension at what had happened this evening, Jacob reconsidered his ability to make such promises.

"I think you're safe," he amended. "At least I'm not going to hurt you."

She needed rest, he supposed, and he thought to leave her alone for a bit. As he started to stand and turn away from her, her hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist. The grip, he noted, felt impressively tight for someone so small and injured to boot.

"Milk and br...," she mumbled at him, but her head, temporarily raised, fell back to the pillow.

Her grip had not relented, despite it all.

"Milk?" he asked.

"Yes," she hissed back, her eyes remaining closed. "And brandy."

"Brandy!?" Jacob's voice kicked up an octave. "I already cleaned your wound, you don't-"

"Brandy," she insisted, her grip tightening. She gasped in a breath and her high-pitched voice puffed out, "Milk and brandy. In a bowl."

"Is that good ide-"

"Please," she breathed and her eyes opened, meeting his in the pale light of his computer screen.

"Okay," Jacob promised. "Okay."

Feeling the urgency in her voice, he rushed out into the hallway again and down into the basement rec room. Behind the bar, his father kept a number of bottles of liquor for guests. Sorting through them, Jacob found the rye, the rum and the vodka. The lesser used bottles, gin and various flavours of schnapps, lingered toward the back.

Brandy? Brandy? Do we have any- Aha!

He looked askance at the bottle. Sure, it said "Brandy" on it, but... He shrugged and took it upstairs to the kitchen where he grabbed the milk container, a fresh bag in it, and a bowl.

Will she need a spoon? I don't know. Better take a spoon.

With the brandy bottle tucked under his arm and the milk and bowl in his hands, Jacob rushed up the stairs as quickly as he could to find his intruder and guest asleep once more. He set his quest items gently on the nightstand next to the bed, hoping not to wake her, but the faint jingle of the spoon against the ceramic bowl had her stirring at once.

"Yes," she murmured, her head turning toward him on the pillow, "mix it."

"Mix it?"

"One to one," her voice croaked.

Jacob shrugged and unscrewed the brandy bottle, pouring a generous couple of shots' worth into the bowl. Carefully grasping the corner of the bag, he added what he estimated as an equal portion of milk, watching the white liquid swirl around the red.

With her eyes still closed, the woman started trying to sit up in bed.

"Help," she begged.

"I'm not sure this is a great idea," Jacob offered, but moved to help anyway, clasping her wrist with one hand while using the other to support her bare upper back and move her to a sitting position.

He'd forgotten, however, that he had already peeled her burnt, black rags off her back. As she sat up, the fabric fell away from the front of her body, revealing her upper body in the pale light.

Nice breasts, he thought, seeing the small, smooth teardrop shapes settle into place as she hunched over.

Jacob turned away quickly.

The first time I have a topless woman in my room, and she's sick and injured. Shouldn't be looking at her.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She shook her head mutely to wave off his concern, whispering, "The bowl?"

"Sure," Jacob replied and carefully handed her the bowl, which she settled into the black fabric pooled in her lap.

The pale woman inhaled deeply and, while Jacob tried to politely keep his eyes on hers, dipped her index finger in the bowl. A strange series of hissing whispers escaped her thin lips and it seemed to Jacob, by the hunch of her body, that this susurration consumed every bit of energy available to her. The liquid, in the shadows because of the low position of the laptop beside Jacob, began to radiate a faint, reddish glow.

Okay, then, he looked down, studiously ignoring the upper half of her body. It's swirling, red and white together, and glowing.

Tiny sparks of light appeared in the brandy part of the mixture, dissipating to slowly make the whole solution brighter and brighter. As he counted heartbeats pounding away in his chest, the mixture grew brighter in pulses, until the glow lit her body from underneath. Jacob thought the reddish light would lend her skin a healthier shade, but she remained pale and green.

Soon, the bowl grew brighter than the light from his laptop and Jacob leaned back with a touch of trepidation, observing the eerily underlit way the bowl lit her breasts, chin and eyes.

This is how they creep little kids out around a camp fire, and she's doing it in my bedroom.

With a satisfied sigh, the woman removed her finger from the bowl and lifted it from her lap. Shaking, she managed to get it up to her lips and tip the contents slowly into her mouth. Jacob, watching, saw the glowing liquid light up her face and then, from the outside, could see how it glowed through the flesh of her throat, draining down past her sternum. He wondered if he'd see a whole map of her digestive system, but the glow quickly diffused, bringing a light to her entire torso and spreading out through her body -- back up her face and down her arms all the way to her fingertips.

She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and Jacob finally saw her properly.

Don't stare at her breasts, he reminded himself. Even if they're really nice, firm, handfuls with perfect, little, dark nip... right. Don't stare.

Her eyes fluttered, long dark eyelashes seeming to glitter with the glow of her magic. High cheekbones gave the countenance of a movie princess of some eastern European kingdom in an old fairy tale. Messy, dark hair blocked her vision and she swept it back behind her head.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking around his room, visible now that she lit it with her body.

When she handed back the bowl, Jacob set it aside on the nightstand.

"You're welcome, um, ma'am."

Looking upon his walls, she spotted a framed certificate.

"You are... Vil-helm?" she asked, peering at the calligraphic writing.

"Huh?" Jacob asked. He looked up at the wall and noted the degree posted there. "Oh, that's my brother Bill. Wilhelm, I guess, is what my parents called him. But sure, 'Vil-helm'. This was his old room, but once he moved out I took it over. It's bigger than my old one, right?"

She lowered her eyebrows, working this out, then asked, "And you are?"

Maybe he could stop stammering and babbling if she could stop glowing, or at least cover her chest.

"Jacob," he said.

"Ah, Yah-cob," she altered the pronunciation, an accent Jacob couldn't quite identify, Rumanian or perhaps Slovakian in origin, colouring her tone. "A fine name."