Oh my God! How could she know my name? Panic sweeps over me as I get up the nerve to ask the most dreaded question that will ever exit my lips. “Am I, um, dead?” Robbie murdered me when he had me pinned in the alley . . . I just know it! I don’t remember feeling anything other than his massive hands all over me. Am I stuck between this world and the afterlife? Shit, is she my guide to whatever comes next? Maybe nothing moves when you cross over. Before being pulled in the direction of that bright light, perhaps everything remains perfectly still. I might know some of this if I ever wandered into a damn church other than to crash a wake!
She smiles and waits nearly thirty seconds before answering. There is nothing like being left in complete suspense. “You are not dead, Ms. McAllister; you are quite inebriated but very much alive. You are facing a very hostile adversary. Your fate will be in the hands of that young man pending a decision you will need to make.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, glancing back at Robbie. We’re both sitting ducks. “Shouldn’t we get out of the immediate area? I don’t think Robbie will remain in that position much longer. We’ll both be dick deep in trouble if he starts moving.”
“That’s colorful,” she says. “As I said, running will be of no benefit, but you are welcome to do what you want. I am not about to stand in the way of volition.”
“But he could snap out of his trance and—”
“Take your mind away from him for the time being,” she interrupts again. Her disposition remains sweet regardless of my excessive panicking. “He isn’t going anywhere in this suspended repose state.”
“What does ‘suspended repose state’ mean exactly?” This no longer resembles real life; it has the ambiance of a dream I can’t wake from. Maybe I hit my head, and I’m imagining all of this. I did feel her chilly fingers touch my neck, so there is that to consider.
“A repose is a pause in time designed specifically to help you reach a resolution,” she explains. “Matter is no longer moving at the same speed for that young man as it is for the two of us. He is moving so slow that you cannot detect it visually.”
What she is suggesting defies the laws of physics—not that I have the slightest clue about physics. Therefore, I haven’t the slightest hint about what is theoretically possible. To my eyes, Robbie hasn’t moved an inch, so I better trust what she is telling me.
“Does this mean I’m safe?”
“For the time being, you are safe,” she promises. This is the third time she has mentioned that! “You can choose to run or consider a more beneficial option. As you have probably seen on numerous game shows, it is often best to wait to pick door number two.”
“I don’t follow . . . what is the other option?”
“You made a wish just a few minutes before I arrived.”
“How could you know that?” The tiny blonde hairs on my arms are suddenly standing at attention. “I whispered my wish. Were you hiding in the shadows?” Why would a woman this beautiful be lurking in a park in Wilkinson Creek? If this is a crazy side effect of a chemical unknowingly mixed into my drink, I’ll kill that fucking Aaron for tampering with my Tequila Sunrise.
“I was not near you nor was I in the vicinity of the park.”
“So how could you have heard my wish if you weren’t standing nearby?”
“I heard your wish because you returned this special coin to me,” she says, extending her dainty hand. Inside her smooth palm lies my wet 1903 Indianhead penny encased in the damp necklace. Okay, this has just gone from being really uncomfortable to sliding entirely off the rails.
“How can you be holding my necklace?” I ask, bewildered. “I just dropped it down there. I heard the splash and everything. It has to be submerged at the bottom of the well.”
“Yet, I am holding it,” she declares, the chain dangling from her thin, polished fingers. “Inspect it closely if you would like.”
Hesitantly, I remove the chain from her hand. I move the coin slightly to the side; the Indian faces alternate as I tilt the coin. After I’m satisfied, I return the chain. “I feel like I’m spinning out here. This is some kind of a trick . . . right?”
“The only trick is how that young man is remaining motionless.” She points at Robbie. I am so transfixed on her that I momentarily put him out of my mind. “My possession of this rare coin is anything but a trick, Ms. McAllister. I realize the alcohol in your system may be making it difficult to process rational thought, but you asked for my assistance—even if your words were slightly slurred. I am here to yield to your request. We lack the necessary time to get into the specifics.”
“What assistance? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t look so dubious, dear. For the wish to be carried out, you will need my collaboration.”
“Wait a sec. How could you possibly know what I’ve asked for? I remember whispering my words to be sure my voice didn’t carry.”
“Similar to a prayer, a wish isn’t in the volume but in the message. Your request was spoken between the time the penny left your fingers and struck the water. You actually made two wishes on the drop of one coin, so I am here to grant both. Why else would I have shown up at the exact moment you needed me?” She extends her hand. “My name is Abbey.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Her soft fingers gently squeeze my hand. I don’t feel a spark, a pulsation, or even a jolt. Shaking her hand is no different than any handshake I’ve encountered throughout my life, so she probably isn’t an alien or a succubus. “I’m surprised by your name.”
“Did you expect something different?”
“Actually, under the circumstances, your name should be Hope.”
She cracks her first authentic smile upon hearing my weak attempt at humor. She giggles in the insipid way one chuckles while reading an obscure Caprice Crane one-liner that probably only resonates within her circle of close friends.
I must concede that I’m having—well, I think I’m having—a conversation with a congenial woman that is rigged to attend a Roaring 20’s masquerade party.
“Why would you be helping me like this? I haven’t exactly made the best decisions throughout my life,” I explain, “so there must be better candidates deserving your consideration. Not that I’m complaining or rebuffing.”
“Considering your situation, you shouldn’t be questioning anyone’s assistance.”
“You’re right. Just strike out everything I foolishly stated.”
I should be leery about trusting this stranger, but Robbie is frozen in place, and she is promising to grant my wishes. Today, Trudy threatened to evict me, that cunt Carolyn had me booted from Leighton, and Jackie scolded my behavior and walked out when I truly needed her. Having a woman—a stranger, no less—treat me like I’m worth the extra effort is comforting. All things considered, this is the most-encouraging feminine energy I’ve been around all day. I’m willing to throw caution to the still night air.
“I will offer this explanation,” she says while sitting on the stone ledge of the wishing well. “Individuals that consistently make great decisions typically lose their belief in magic because their ambitions are usually fulfilled.” She should be selling timeshares in Montana. “Keeping a request realistic is also paramount. You’d be surprised how many foolish people wish for a million dollars or a rookie Mickey Mantle baseball card. Many factors play into this process—direct monetary gain is not one of them. This is how the filtering process works. Your request did not have the slightest tinge of cupidity attached to it.”
“Does my wish have anything to do with the penny I used?”
“This penny expedited the wish to the top of the list. As many have found out over the years, I take special interest when an item resurfaces that once belonged to me.”
Belonged to her? I squint trying to figure out what she means by that. “Holy crap, you were the woman in Chicago that dropped the necklace after those skateboard punks tried to steal your purse.”
“Yes, that was indeed me,”
she admits. “I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday.”
“Just so you know, I tried to catch up to return the necklace, but you just disappeared around the corner. I looked for nearly two hours and couldn’t find you.”
“I appreciate your gallant effort, but I had other business to attend to that day. Anyway, whenever an item is returned, I show my gratitude by adjusting a few aspects of that person’s life.”
Throughout my life, rarely has anyone come to my rescue when I’ve genuinely needed a hand. Other than when the sheriff saved my life, I can’t come up with a single example until tonight. Billy made a heroic move on my behalf that likely spared me some severe pain, and now this astonishing woman is offering to remove Rob from my life completely. With my deficit balance in the area of serendipity, good fortune will not throw me another lifeline if I was to be cornered by Robbie again. It would stand to reason that the universe wants to keep the asshole out of my life. I’d have to be bonkers to turn away such an offering.
I still can’t figure out how she’d be able to grant a wish. Then again, a microwave can deliver a steaming bag of popcorn in just over two minutes, and I’ve never questioned how it manages that feat. After the pondering subsides, I ask, “So, how does this work?”
“In order to carry out these wishes, some exertion on your part will be required. The timeframe in which the wishes are granted is directly related to the amount of effort you are willing to devote on your end.”
“I knew there would be a catch,” I mumble.
She gives me a slanting smile. “My dear, there always is!”
Chapter 6
Mandi
If what is happening is nothing more than a schizoid dream, I’ll have a whopper to tell Jackie in the morning. My inebriation is fading to a substantial buzz and Abbey is still standing before me. That has to be a good sign that I’m not tripping.
“I may be too tipsy to do what is expected of me,” I say, hoping she’ll grant a little grace on my end.
“Even with your blood alcohol level, you are more capable than you realize.”
“I feel like I’m imagining all of this.”
“If that’s what you think, then you truly have nothing to lose,” she declares.
“So . . . what am I supposed to do exactly?”
In an adult movie, this is where I’d be expected to kneel down and perform some kinky sexual favor to the mistress. Since I’m still a bit drunk, I’d be able to justify about anything in the morning. A swish of Listerine and a hot shower can wash away a ton of shame.
“You will need to join me on a little journey in order to carry out both requests.”
“Like where?” Here comes the part where I get tied up in the trunk of her car and sold to a twisted Japanese trafficker with a preoccupation for slender blondes.
“We need to travel quite far, I’m afraid.”
“Please tell me we will not have to travel in a vehicle.”
“We will not, dear,” she assures me. “Distance isn’t always measured in miles. We need to travel in reverse to adjust a moment that has adversely affected your livelihood.”
“Can’t you just snap your fingers or whatever it is you do?”
“You’ve watched too many television shows, dear. I’m not a genie.”
“Since you are able to grant wishes, I sort of—.”
“I can’t just cross my arms and blink or twitch my nose to give you what you want,” she interrupts. “I can offer to lead you to a place where you will be required to make a necessary modification.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It would be in your best interest not to question what you can’t understand until we’ve arrived at our destination,” she states. This must be a subtle way of telling me to trust her—or to shut my flapping trap.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until I completely sobered up? I can barely account for everything that has happened over the past hour. It’s been a bit of a blur, you know.”
“The repose isn’t going to last much longer,” she informs. “If it expires before we’ve reached our destination, that boy is going to catch you. If you survive his savagery, the hospital will undoubtedly check your blood alcohol level. Once they see that you are legally drunk, they may think you provoked this ordeal.”
I point at his oversized body. “Anyone would be able to discern that he came after me. Until this week, he’s been in prison for trying to murder me. The stupid parole board let him out early; that’s why I’m in this situation.”
“I beg to differ, dear. You are partially in this situation because you taunted him with your excessive vanity.”
I scan her exquisiteness from tilt hat to heel. I don’t think I’ve ever looked as spectacular as what Abbey is projecting to the world. “I hardly think being put together is grounds to be the target of an improper advancement. You can’t tell me that your outer appearance hasn’t enticed more than a few men.”
“We’re talking about your situation with this young man,” she reminds me. “I know your darkest secrets, Ms. McAllister. I’m not here to judge, although you may think that is what is happening here. Due to your well-guarded secret, some might find your moral code to be quite questionable.”
“This is just wonderful.”
“This is why it is imperative that you accompany me,” she persuades. Her harmonious tone has not wavered. She is not being pushy, but she is expecting me to reach a rapid decision.
“If I do accompany you, will I still have to deal with Robbie when we get back?”
“By carrying out your end, Robbie will not bother you ever again. Our journey will ensure that the boy is no longer a part of your life.”
This sounds like an appealing offer. If I continue on my current track, Robbie will remain a threat.
Abbey seems to possess some life-altering powers. She could be some type of gorgeous magician trying to con me, but she has to know that I don’t have shit.
“How tough will it be to fulfill my end?” I pose.
“Anything worth doing is challenging, but I am confident that you’ll be able to successfully carry out your end of the bargain.”
“Okay,” I agree, hesitantly. “What will I need to do?”
“I must warn you that we are going to travel a great distance, but also not as far as you might think. If you are ready, our journey can commence. Leave your purse against the base of the wishing well. The less you take with you, the less that can be left behind. No one will touch your bag.” She motions for me to follow. She walks towards the spot where Robbie is in his catatonic slumber.
“Do we have to walk by him?” I ask, terrified to be heading in his direction. “What if he—”
“He will not snap out of his idle state until after we are long gone,” she interrupts. “As I stated before, our energy level is moving at a different pace than that of this young man.”
“So, if I took a tree branch and beat him with it, he’d remain motionless?”
“Yes, but he would not feel the impact. For the most part, no harm can come to a person when in this suspended condition.”
“So, no matter what I do, will he stay in this state?”
“Yes, he will,” she confirms.
When we stand in front of Robbie, I stop for a few seconds to observe his rigid body. I push a finger into his stiff chest; he doesn’t flinch—much like a figure in a wax museum. His eyes are glassed over similar to the stuffed moose head mounted behind the bar at The Blue Dragon. I would love to take my nail file and stab him in the exact place where he punctured me, but it doesn’t sound as if a sharp object could penetrate his skin. I do the only sensible action that comes to mind. I move one step back, take a deep breath, and kick him as hard as I can in the marbles—twice. The boy needed to be emasculated for years. Oh, it’s so damn satisfying.
After witnessing my brutal kicks, Abbey says, “I sense that you’d be happier if he felt the retaliation. I feel this will give you closure.”
“It absolutely would.”
“Since getting away from him is a component of your wish, I will make an exception. Once we are gone, he will feel the harsh jolt of those kicks. Does this bring you happiness?”
“Absolutely.” I flash her a wide smile. “I am also quite happy with myself.”
After spending four days in the hospital last year because of his violent outburst, kicking him in the oblongs was street justice.
The night has taken a promising turn in my favor. As we cross the sidewalk leading to Main Street, Abbey grabs my hand tightly for a few steps. It’s as if I’ve returned to being three-years-old when Mom would hold my hand as we walked across the grocery store parking lot. I feel a sharp pulse jolt throughout my body for a split second. It was similar to getting a brisk carpet shock. Following the surge, the sounds of the night come charging back—much like a transformer regenerating. Within seconds, the lights on Main Street glimmer as the orange glow of the sun is setting on the horizon.
“What the hell just happened?” I ask, spinning around to see if Robbie is running toward us. Strangely, he isn’t even doubled-over gripping his aching sack. Both Robbie and the middle of the night have evaporated in an instant. It’s as if three or four hours have rewound in the space of three seconds.
“We’re here,” she announces.
“Huh?” I ask while looking around at what is clearly Wilkinson Creek. “What do you mean ‘we’re here’ if we didn’t go anywhere?”
“We went much further than you are aware. Look around for a moment.” She motions with her right hand. “Would you concede that the businesses residing on this street are different than how we left them a bit ago?”
“Not really. This is the same shitty street in the same turd of a town. It is just dusk. I’ll admit that the night rewinding is weird as shit.” Wait a second. It is a bit different, yet everything is just off. Video Outlet is now on the corner of Main and Hillcrest Avenue. That video store has been out of business for nearly a decade. The marquee for The Rialto is lit up with tiny yellow bulbs flickering along the border. That theater closed down two years ago. It was actually boarded up the last time I passed by the place. “What is with the nostalgic businesses all over? Did you unknowingly perform hypnosis on me?”
In Dark Places Page 9