by Ellery Fenn
I drowned my plate in syrup. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“She’s a pretty little thing,” Dad said. He banged his mug on the table. “What’s a guy got to do to get some hot coffee around here? Not lukewarm. Hot.”
“I’ll get it,” Mom said.
“What was her name? Liza?”
“Lisa,” Mom said. “Lisa Bittermann. You know, her dad’s Sam Bittermann. He took care of our cockroach problem last year.”
“That’s right.” Dad stuffed his mouth with pancake. “How was she?”
I stared at the soggy mess floating in my plate and shrugged. The light glinting off the syrup looked like the headlights reflecting in her eyes as she ran from the car. “Fine, I guess.”
“She’s got a great figure on her. Wish your mother looked more like that.”
Mom handed him his coffee with a glare. “She’s a sweet girl. Did you have a nice time together?”
In my head I saw her scrambling in the gravel. “I don’t know.”
Dad chuckled. “You look tired as hell. Bet she gave you quite a workout, huh?”
My arms ached from holding her down.
“Don’t be so crude,” Mom said. She took her seat at the foot of the table and poured herself an orange juice.
I stared out the sliding glass door, past the fence, the neighbor’s house, and into the woods behind our property. I remembered her stumbling for the trees, clutching to them for all she was worth.
A knock came at the door, and it sounded like a rock colliding with her skull.
Mom wiped her mouth. “I’ll get it.”
God, what was I going to do? I’d just left her there. She probably came to and went home and told her parents everything. What about my scholarship?
“Sam! What a surprise.” Mom’s voice carried from the front room. “And this must be your wife.”
Sam? Sam Bittermann? I put my head in my hands. This couldn’t be happening.
“Can we come in?”
Dad burped and went to greet them. “What brings you here?”
I turned around. I could see into the front room from here. Yep. This was it. It was all over now.
“It’s Lisa.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of anything else.
“Doug had a lovely time with her last night.”
Shut up, Mom!
“Well that’s what we wanted to talk to you about.”
I dug my fingers into my thigh.
“Oh?” Dad answered.
I tightened my grip.
“She hasn’t come home yet.”
My fingernails broke the skin and blood dripped down my leg.
Chapter Ten
Lisa
I chewed on the end of my sleeve, watching my parents talk with Doug’s. I sat fully invisible on the arm of the loveseat next to Mom. Her face was tired, her eyes bloodshot. I doubt she got any sleep.
“What?” Doug’s mom said. She had the same blonde hair he did, but hers was long and styled in pretty curls around her face. “What do you mean?”
Mom pursed her lips.
“We thought you’d know,” Dad said. His usually neat combover was ruffled. “After all, she was with your boy.”
“What do you mean by that?” Doug’s dad looked nothing like the portrait hanging at the front of the grocery store. His face was wrinkled with frown lines rather than smile lines and his eyes were cold like Doug’s.
I couldn’t stop my knee from bouncing. I really hoped that my invisibility extended to sound too. Could people hear ghosts?
“We don’t mean anything,” Mom said hurriedly. “We don’t blame Doug. We just wanted to see if he knew anything.”
Mr. Allan frowned. “Doug! Get your ass in here.”
Mom shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
And there he was. He wore a backward t-shirt and boxers. Mom averted her gaze. Her excessive puritanism would’ve been funny any other time.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bittermann say their daughter hasn’t come home yet, and you were the last to see her,” Mr. Allan said.
“Well we don’t know that,” Mom said.
“They’re just wondering if you know anything,” Mrs. Allan said.
Doug’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I don’t know anything.”
“Ugh,” I said.
Mom glanced in my direction, her eyes flitting through me. Okay, so they could hear me. I’d have to be more careful.
“That’s good enough for me,” Doug’s dad said.
“She might be with her friend Clarisse.”
My leg froze mid-bounce.
“Clarisse?” Mom said. “You mean Clarisse Wilcox? That Satanic girl?”
I lowered my head into my hands.
Doug shrugged. “Or her boyfriend.”
“Lisa has a boyfriend?” Mom gripped her purse with wrinkled hands.
“No. No.” Doug shuffled his feet. “Clarisse’s boyfriend. Pat. Patrick.”
“I don’t know a Patrick.” Dad frowned. “What’s his last name?”
Doug shrugged.
“We’ll be looking into this,” Mom said. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Allan said. “Anything we can do to help.”
I buried my face in the sofa. This couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter Eleven
Doug
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The rapping on my door got louder.
“Doug, if you don’t open this door, I’m going to beat you black and blue.”
Why was I experiencing consequences to my actions? I unlocked the door.
Dad stumbled in. His face was bright red. He swallowed, struggling to keep his voice low.
“You want to explain to me why there are cops downstairs, asking for you?”
Shit.
“I don’t know, Dad. I swear to god.”
His smacked me across the face. Normally I would fight back, but this probably wasn’t the best time. He grabbed my ear and pulled me so close I could smell his breath.
“You better not do anything stupid.”
I made my way downstairs, fully dressed this time, my heart bouncing around my rib cage like a pinball machine.
Mom was in the front room, serving coffee to two police officers sitting side by side on the couch.
“Howdy Doug,” one said. His oversized moustache bounced over his lip. Great. He was going to be friendly. “We were hoping you could answer some questions for us.”
I ignored the pointed look from Mom and took my seat across from them.
“Coffee, honey?”
“Pepsi.”
She nodded and left the room.
“So, you went to the Homecoming dance with Lisa Bittermann yesterday, is that right?”
I looked between the two of them. The mustached man sat on the edge of his seat, politely sipping from a souvenir mug. The other had a mullet and leaned back uninterested.
“Yes sir.”
“Here you go.” The can was covered in cold condensation.
“Thanks.”
“Get out of there,” Dad muttered from the kitchen.
“You have a good time?” the moustache asked.
I swallowed stiffly. “May I ask what this is about?”
“Lisa didn’t come home last night.”
“Her parents came over this morning. I told them I thought she might be with Clarisse.”
“We’ve spoken with Ms. Wilcox. Her parents confirm that Patrick Green brought her home passed out drunk by one. Patrick said the last he saw of Lisa, she was getting in your car around midnight.”
I clenched my fists. “Well, Oliver was having a party. We were going to go.”
“Oliver Thornton says you never showed up to the party.”
Sweat trickled down my back. I could get charged with assault if I wasn’t careful. I could lose my scholarship. My breath was shaky. I was going to North Dakota next year. I was going to play college baseball. I could
do this.
“We parked for a bit first. I mean, you know, it was a date.”
“This wouldn’t happen to be on Boones Ferry Road, would it?”
Had someone seen us? I nodded.
The silent man leaned forward and sat his mug loudly on the coffee table. I jumped.
“I’m going to ask you straight.” He sounded like a chain-smoker. “Where’s Lisa? If you can tell us that, we’ll drop the whole thing right here.”
“I- I honestly don’t know sir. We had a fight, and she walked home.”
The men exchanged pointed glances.
“That’s going to be a tough one to sell, kid.”
“What do you mean?”
The moustache sighed and set his own mug down. He clasped his hands over his lap. “We got a call this morning from someone that’d been driving on Boones Ferry Road. They saw a white dress on the edge of the woods. Mr. and Mrs. Bittermann confirmed it was the dress they bought her for the dance.”
My head went fuzzy. Her dress? Why would she take off her dress?
“It was torn and covered in blood.”
The only thing I could hear over my heartbeat was shuffling in the kitchen. Dad walked into the room. “It’s time for you folks to leave now. Doug’s not saying another word until we have a chance to talk to his lawyer.”
I had a lawyer?
“That’s your prerogative.” The mustached man stood. He grabbed a cowboy hat from the arm of the couch and slipped it on his head. “We don’t want you to think we’re ganging up on Doug here. We’re just trying to get all the facts together.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Shut up,” Dad growled.
“Suspect for what?” the gruff man said. “What crime did you commit?”
“You need to leave.” Dad opened the door.
“We’re going to ask that you don’t leave the county,” the moustache asked. “We’ll be in touch shortly.”
“Get out. Sirs.” Dad slammed the door and turned to glare at me. “What the hell did you do?”
Chapter Twelve
Corrie
I sat alone in the hollow tree, satisfied with my stomach full of dead salmon. It must’ve been breeding season. As far as I could remember, salmon died when they gave birth.
Lisa flew off soon after we made camp to do reconnaissance. She returned mid-morning to update me about her parents stopping by.
I’d been more alone this morning than I’d been at any other time in my short afterlife. The silent calm of a waking forest was soothing. I sat at one point by the creek and watched the clear water and the light it reflected, relishing the sun on my skin, taking in the blinding green all around me. To remain still despite having energy to move was an interesting experience. As I sat, I felt everything there was to feel. Every touch, every sound, everything. I examined each one and their effect on my body. Some of them stirred memories I couldn’t quite grasp, faint images or sounds, all without context.
I knew the facts of my life, but they were distant and undefined. My mind remembered little. My body remembered much.
I let the sensations come, let them roll through me like a thunderstorm until I was overwhelmed, battered like a farmhouse by wind and rain. All thoughts faded away when I let them. I became only a receptacle for feeling. And slowly, gradually, as I experienced each in full, the onslaught quieted. I still felt everything, but it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. I didn’t have to wade through it to focus on other things.
The bark of the tree was cool against my back. It was a good spot for us, small, dark, and perfectly camouflaged. I was as surprised as Lisa that I even noticed it. Perhaps my oversensitivity wasn’t merely something to cope with, but something I could turn to my advantage.
A flash of silver startled me as Lisa burst through the wall.
“The cops showed up.”
I shifted forward. She was agitated, as I’d expected.
“Mr. Allan kicked them out and he’s taking Doug to meet with a lawyer. And Mrs. Allan is taking the twins shopping so they don’t find out what’s going on with the cops and everything. Michael said he was going to meet with some friends, so the house will be empty.”
I tilted my head. She found the source of my confusion instantly.
“Oh. Michael’s his older brother, and he’s got younger twin brothers, Heath and Clifton.”
I couldn’t escape the image of four boys all wearing Doug’s face, all as cruel as the next.
“I think we should sneak in.”
“What.”
“No, really. We need to find out more, maybe collect some evidence.”
I didn’t want to be anywhere near his den of evil, not if I wasn’t going to kill him. To see the place that made him who he was… it was more than I could bear.
“Why me?”
“You’ve got a better eye than I do. You saw this tree when I couldn’t.”
I couldn’t deny her logic. If she was willing to put herself through that to spy on them, I should be willing to do the same. I nodded hesitantly. “How. Zombie.”
She frowned. “Oh yeah. You’re right. We have to get in undetected. That’s easy for me, but it might be a little more challenging for you.” She bit her lip. “I’ll be back.”
She was gone as quickly as she’d arrived. I ran my finger along the ridge of bone that sat in the center of the hole my nose had once occupied and ordered my thoughts. For Lisa, I would brave the horror of Doug’s house. Fear didn’t suit the undead.
She flew back in a few minutes later. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to carry stuff. Half the time it just falls through my hands. Come look what I got.”
I crawled from the tree and closed the bark door behind me.
“Ta-da.” She gestured to a pile of spotty green cloth. “Curtains from an old camp trailer.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Come on, it’ll work. It’s Saturday. Most people are off swimming while it’s still warm. And there’s a hedge of trees and bushes and stuff that leads almost right there. And there’s a tree right outside his bedroom window.”
“Ugh.”
“It’ll be fun. Who knows what we’ll find? I mean, I poked around earlier and didn’t see anything. But there has to be something.”
The alternative was remaining alone, and I detested the thought.
“Fine.” I took a fish from my stockpile. I’d partitioned off a small area and filled it, so I didn’t have to scavenge every time I was hungry. I bit into the scaly flesh.
“You look so funny with a fish hanging out your mouth.”
I shook my head to make it flop back and forth. She smiled at the effort and held up a long curtain.
“This looks just the right size for you.” She threw it over my shoulder as I stuffed the fish into my mouth. “Hold this.” She fiddled with the fabric, wrapping and unwrapping, her frown growing all the while.
She stood behind me and adjusted the cloth some more. Her fingertips grazed the base of my neck and halted, barely touching me. Her touch was a bright star in the sea of sensation, a cool fire sparkling through me. She felt down my spine one vertebra at a time until she reached the top of my slip. I stilled. Had she recognized it? She rubbed the cloth between her fingers. I swallowed against the new feeling and turned, our faces only inches apart.
“What?”
Her eyebrows were furrowed. “Nothing. I think you’re ready.”
I looked over my new covering. It was fashioned like a toga, and despite its ugly appearance, it hid a multitude of sins. But not the biggest one. I pointed to my face.
“What?” she asked.
I jabbed my finger in the place my nose had been. Her eyes widened.
“Oh yeah. I guess I’m just so used to it. Funny. Hasn’t even been a day and I already… never mind. Let me see what I can do.”
She pulled another piece of fabric over my head, plunging me into darkness. She tugged it off and frowned. “You’re so gory. Maybe it’ll hel
p if we clean off some blood. Come on.” She took my hand and dragged me to the creek. I sat on a rock.
Lisa pulled her hair into a ponytail and positioned herself in front of me, unnecessarily rolling the cuffs of her sleeves. She plunged her hands into the water and carefully raised them. If I squinted, it almost looked like the water was floating, an island in the air, surrounded by shimmers. It dripped through her hands until nothing was left.
“Damn,” she muttered.
I ripped a piece from the bottom of my new toga.
“Thanks.” She dipped it in the creek and brought it to my face. “Hold still.”
She dabbed at the dried blood, skirting the edges of open wounds as though she were afraid to hurt me, as though I were fragile, breakable.
She pursed her lips.
“What?”
“It’s stuck on there pretty good.” She immersed the rag. The water flowed pink around it. She wrung it out before touching it to my skin again.
Every part of her was translucent silver, faintly glistening in the sun. Contrary to what I’d thought before, she wasn’t all the same shade. Now that I looked closer, I noticed her eyes were as dark as polished iron, and every contour of her skin was made of thousands of tiny particles, like water vapor. When the sun hit them, there was almost something like a rainbow about them. Her cheeks shimmered brighter.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I quickly looked away.
“Don’t move.” She placed one hand on my intact cheek and steadied my head as she cleaned the other side. It didn’t hurt, though I’d thought it would aggravate my wounds. There was no pain from her touch. It was almost… soothing. It felt right. “There.” She rinsed the rag out in the creek.
I raised my hand to feel the clean skin, but she caught my limb before I touched.
“Your hands are bloody too.” She didn’t meet my gaze, just lowered my hands into the water and cleaned them. Her fingers traced the contours of my hands, the knuckles, the fingernails and lack thereof, the lines in the palms, and in between each finger. When she was done, she returned to the curtains.
I was clean for the first time I could remember. My skin felt raw, as though a layer of it had been removed, exposing flesh to the air. It ached, hungry for touch. I felt along the fresh skin, but it didn’t satisfy the craving.