Sidetracked: Part 1

by S. K. Kelley

  I listen to my footsteps against the asphalt. I focus on my unsteady gait and try to walk between the yellow lines in the middle of the street. All the while, a nagging unease slowly rises in my chest. A mild discomfort. A sense of something...off.

  My collarbone itches beneath the River Sapphire.

  Headlights from behind illuminate the road, startling me as the light casts my form as a long, dark shadow stretching down the pavement. I pick up the pace, leaving the road and stepping onto the sidewalk instead.

  The car passes where I stood and disappears around the next curve.

  I glance over my shoulder—how many times have I checked behind me?—but there’s no one there. There hasn’t been anyone there. The streets are well-lit and empty. Westbrooke is a secure private neighborhood.

  It’s safe, right?

  Why am I so jumpy?

  The alcohol?

  I scratch my neck. The gentle, previously negligible weight of the necklace’s thin chain bothers me. An uncomfortable awareness of the tiny, metal links touching my skin. A new heaviness I never felt before.

  It’s annoying.

  So I take the River Sapphire off.

  I don’t turn into a cat or anything, but the itching subsides, so I clasp the chain and stick the necklace in one of the internal pockets on Ice’s dark overcoat.

  Fireworks still go off every few minutes somewhere, but this street is empty. There aren’t any families out lighting off sparklers in their driveways. There aren’t any kids running around.

  How late is it, anyway? 11PM? A little later? Earlier? I have no idea. I don’t remember the last time I checked my phone. I don’t remember glancing at the alarm clock before I left Ice’s bedroom.

  Where did I leave my phone, anyway?

  Even after turning onto the familiar street Ice lives on, a sense of anxiety remains. The prickly discomfort does not mix well with the increasing fuzziness from the alcohol. It leaves me sort of dizzy and sick.

  I watch my feet, struggling to walk one foot in front of the other without wavering. Why is this so difficult?

  I don’t feel any better.

  With a sigh, I look up.

  There’s a car parked on the curb beneath a streetlight up ahead. This is an upper-class neighborhood, full of nice cars, but this one’s...not so nice. It’s grungy and beat up, so it stands out. And the parking job sucks. The car is empty, though, and the lights are on in the house beside it.

  I scratch my shoulder, tickled by stray hairs affected by the breeze.

  Everything is fine, Jayde. Stop being so weird.

  Despite my valiant and reasonable attempt at rationalization, the rising paranoia only becomes more tangible the closer I get to the Monroe house. But I walk up the stone path and step onto the concrete landing anyway.

  A heavy weight on my chest. A pit in my stomach.

  I shake my head. The door is unlocked, so I walk right in. The great room is decently lit by the chandelier over the dining table, as it was when I left, but that doesn’t stop the profound, cold dread from crashing over me.

  My skin prickles uncomfortably. My breath catches. It’s the same as this morning. The nausea returns full force too, bringing a headache with it. Coughing, desperate to regain control, I power through and shake it off to dispel some of the tension in my body. Then I close the door, and the search for my phone commences.

  I check the kitchen counters and the coffee table in front of the couch. Moving into the den, I flip the light on and check my backpack. My phone isn’t on the TV stand or any of the low bookcases. It’s not in Ice’s bedroom either.

  I set the now-empty glass on the desk and drop myself onto the edge of Ice’s soft bed. I hold my aching head in my hands. It’s hard to ignore.

  Oh, no...

  Maybe I should stay here. Maybe I drank too much.

  I sit a moment longer. My eyes close. Sleep calls to me, the warmth in my chest overpowering the sense of unease.

  Just a moment longer...

  My head dips. My chin slips past the heel of my palm, jolting me awake. I shake my head again to calm my nerves. Then I fall back onto the bed and roll onto my side.

  Eyes closed again, I give up.

  The only sound is my breathing. The soft, rhythmic whirring of the central AC. The sliding glass door...

  My eyes snap open, unable to focus on anything in particular in the low light.

  Did I hear the sliding glass door?

  Slowly, I sit up. I rub my eyes. I look around. The clock says it’s 10:48PM. Faint light filters in from the backyard through the sheer curtains. Even more light comes in through the open doorway, from the light I left on in the den.

  I don’t hear anything.

  The sound was probably my imagination—considering I was half-asleep and paranoid—but I leave the bed anyway. I take the empty glass from the desk, cross the room, and poke my head out the doorway.

  The hall is empty. The den is empty. The house is quiet and well-lit, the same as before I nearly fell asleep.

  “Hello?” I ask the house.

  No one answers.

  Frustrated with myself, I step into the hallway and wander through the house. I don’t perform a thorough search, but there isn’t anyone here unless they’re hiding out in one of the bedrooms.

  The house is empty. I’m clearly losing my mind.

  I stand in front of the sliding glass door for a moment. The backyard is empty too, but— Ah! My phone is on the patio table. That’s right. I set it down earlier, didn’t I?

  Maybe I won’t miss the fireworks after all.

  I pull the door open and step outside. I pick up my phone. The screen is so bright it hurts my eyes, so I turn the brightness down before checking my notifications.

  Mm...

  I missed a call from Rose less than an hour ago, but I shouldn’t return it now. She’s never seen me drink enough to get tipsy—let alone enough to turn into a stupid, wobbly mess.

  Ugh. I even kissed Ice. He said he likes me, but...

  I start typing a message. I don’t want to talk about Ice. I just want to apologize for missing her call, but—

  A sound. Soft footfalls in the grass behind me.

  Someone is—

  I freeze, unable to glance over my shoulder. The footsteps continue, and my heart sinks. It’s not my imagination this time. I guess that hearing the sliding glass door probably wasn’t either.

  But who—? What do I...?

  What should I do?

  My head hurts. It’s hard to think. I can’t seem to—

  Ugh.

  I can’t pretend I’m not alone, but I’m scared to look, and they haven’t said anything yet, so I don’t even know who it is. I seal my eyes shut, slap my phone down on the table, and spin to face the backyard.

  “Who’s there?” I call with my eyes still closed.

  Please be Ice—actually, please be Night. Even Smoke would be fine. Ice said he would come after me if I didn’t show up after thirty minutes, but I don’t know how long it’s been. What time was it when I left? I have no idea.

  Ugh...

  My hand clutches the empty glass so tightly I worry it might break. Why didn’t I leave it in the kitchen?

  I can’t think—

  Damn it...

  The person in the backyard still hasn’t said anything, remaining quiet even as they ascend the patio stairs. If they don’t intend to answer my question, they’ll be right in front of me before I even know who they are.

  I peel my eyes open, but my mind blanks.

  At first, I register only the red glow of a lit cigarette. It falls from a hand and lands on the wood, and my eyes track upward again, toward the intruder’s face.

  The man in front of me—

  “James?” my slurred voice asks.

  He wears a black hoodie, and his orange hair is concealed by a dark knit cap, but I recognize him in the soft light cast over the patio from the fairy lights behind me. His eyes, shadowed and rimmed by d
ark circles, are wide.

  Is he surprised to see me? Or—

  My breath catches as an image from my dream flashes before my eyes. A wall, dripping crimson red. Thick, warm blood slicking my hands. So much...

  Someone behind me.

  No—

  The vision is wiped away as an intense wave of nausea grips my stomach. A sharp pain stabs my head. I raise a hand to my mouth, but the world spins and goes dark before I have a chance to vomit.

  Suddenly, I’m weightless. And I can’t see.

  The glass slips from my hand and shatters. I hear the sharp sound—the crack of broken glass—followed by a heavy thud, and then...nothing.

  thirty-three

  AAH... MY HEAD... LIKE a drum...

  It’s dark.

  My eyes are closed.

  I open my eyes, slowly and warily, only to discover that I’m slumped over in the backseat of a moving vehicle. A bump in the road jostles me, and a dizzying sickness rises in my throat. The faint scent of tobacco smoke? And, oh my god, my head—

  Wait. When did I get into a car?

  Last I remember, I was walking to the cul-de-sac. But I turned back, didn’t I? I made it to the house. I almost fell asleep, but then I found my phone. I was on the patio. And then...

  And then...

  Shattering glass. Wide, golden eyes in the low light.

  Oh.

  Oh, no...

  I sit up quickly. Far too quickly.

  My stomach twists as pain splits my skull.

  Everything goes black for an instant. I manage to catch myself, but cradling my head and sucking air through my teeth does little to help. I’m a mess. My chest hurts. My stomach hurts. I can barely breathe.

  “You stay back there,” a sharp voice calls from the front seat. It’s James...or the guy from the mall, anyway. “Don’t move. I— I have a gun!”

  What the hell?

  I try to speak, but my voice is so rough and slurred, I hardly recognize it. I cough to clear my dry throat.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  My hand comes away from my temple with a smear of dark red blood. I passed out, right? What did I hit my head on? The patio? The metal table leg?

  How bad is it?

  Ugh...

  I glance out the window. It’s dark. I make out a sea of shadowy trees at the edge of the road, but there aren’t any signs, buildings, or streetlights.

  Where am I?

  “I want that necklace. It’s blue, right? That’s what I want.”

  “What? Why?”

  Another bump in the road brings a fresh wave of nausea. I tear my eyes from the window and groan, torn between hugging my midsection and holding my pounding head.

  The car screeches to a halt. The wheels grind in loose gravel, and I’m thrown forward. Hand pressed over my mouth, I fight back the nausea. Through my coughing, the engine idles. Then a seatbelt unbuckles, and the driver’s side door opens. I look up through a mess of my hair as James turns in his seat to watch me.

  I grit my teeth.

  Seriously, why?

  Even in the dim, yellow light cast by the dome light above, his face is etched with panic. His shadowy eyes are wide, his features taught and muscles tense. Sweat drips down his brow.

  Do I look like that too? Only with blood?

  Gross.

  I ignore James and look out the windshield. The car is stopped in front of a large, dilapidated building—easily three stories tall. The lot is otherwise barren and surrounded by thick trees like the road leading up to it.

  Where the hell am I? How long was I out?

  “You have it with you, right?” he asks, pulling his knit hat off with one hand. “So just give it to me, and I’ll let you go.”

  “What? No. What are you even talking about?”

  He says something I ignore completely as I sneak a peek at the door to my right. The handle is within reach—and the door is unlocked. It’s so dark out there, though. I don’t know how well I can move, but...

  James holds out a hand, palm-up, and reaches over the center console and into the backseat. I shy away, shifting closer to the door without taking my eyes off him.

  “Come on,” he says. “Just hand it over.”

  The River Sapphire?

  “No—”

  My hand shoots for the door handle, and I throw myself out. Course stones scrape my palms and knees as I land in gravel. Pushing the fresh, hot pain to the back of my mind, I climb to my feet and take off toward the looming building.

  Feet crunch in loose gravel behind me, but I can’t afford to hesitate. I wipe the budding tears from my eyes, ignore the stitch in my side, and push my legs to move faster.

  But where am I going?

  Running this way seemed like the best option in the moment—better than ending up lost in the woods in the middle of the night. But I don’t know how long I spent passed out in the car before I came to. I don’t even know if I’m still in Riverview.

  James is definitely following me, though. I don’t look back, but I hear him sputtering frustrated curses somewhere between me and the car.

  Maybe getting lost in the woods is my only option.

  Or... Maybe this building has a back door.

  The oversized front doors are unlocked. I heave one open and dash through the small, well-lit vestibule. The space beyond is far darker, but all I can do is press forward. Dust motes float in the air, catching in my already parched throat. Wood scraps, cardboard, and paper litter the hardwood floor and get in my way.

  What is this place?

  I spot a staircase with light at the top to my left, but my eyes glaze right over it. I can’t climb stairs. I have to go further inside. Stay on the ground floor and find another exit. A second door that leads outside. Or a window. But it’s so dark. Hardly any light from the vestibule reaches here, and the room is a disaster.

  Where should I go?

  James is still coming, so I—

  My toe catches the edge of something solid.

  I fall.

  My ankle twists as the rubber tip of my shoe remains stuck a second too long before breaking free, and I catch myself on the ground with my forearms. Heart and head pounding—each beat like an ice pick to the temple—I stare at nothing with wide eyes, my nose an inch from the plywood board that tripped me.

  I need to go. Can’t stop even to catch my breath.

  Ignoring my burning ankle, ignoring my stinging palms and aching head, I scramble to my feet. I take the first step without stumbling. My ankle should be fine.

  Then a hand catches the back of my coat.

  I spin to face him, ready to throw hands, but James grabs ahold of my wrist, and I freeze. Clammy fingers wrap around bare skin. Too close.

  “Don’t touch me,” my rough voice hisses.

  I plant my free hand on his shoulder and shove as hard as I can. He shifts slightly, but my foot slips on a piece of loose debris, and I’m once again weightless. Falling backward and throwing my assailant off balance with me.

  Suddenly, we’re both on the floor.

  My shoulder hits first. The impact knocks the air from my lungs, and James pins me to the uneven ground, holding both of my arms down.

  The building falls quiet, save for our winded breathing and the blood rushing in my ears. His shoulders rise and fall, his hands shifting slightly with each breath. I can’t make out his expression in the darkness. Only wide eyes, reflecting what little light there is. The faint, lingering scent of alcohol and smoke.

  And, still frozen, I can’t move.

  “Come on,” he gasps. “Where’s the necklace?”

  Oh, it’s...

  Not around my neck, is it?

  The gentle weight is missing. Because the River Sapphire is tucked inside a coat pocket. I could hand it over. If he’s serious about letting me go, it’s the easiest way out, but... The gemstone is irreplaceable. Ice went through a lot of trouble to get it for me.

  But, if I don’t give it to James, how w
ill I get out of here?

  “I don’t— Ah—” I shake my head and wince as pain flares between my eyes, but I keep talking. “I don’t have it. I’m sorry. I don’t. So, please—”

  Ugh...

  He grits his teeth. Wide eyes scour my face and then my neck, where a necklace would be.

  His expression falters for an instant, but he shakes his head too. “No way. You’d never go anywhere without it, right? So where is it? Come on...”

  What does he think he knows about me?

  Why was he at Ice’s house in the first place? Did he know I’d be there? There’s no way this was an accident, right?

  “No!” I twist about, trying to free my arms. He tells me to stop, and I scream. “I don’t have the stupid necklace! I already told you. Get off of me!”

  “Stop,” he says again, his voice quiet.

  From the floor, I just can’t manage to—

  An attempt to knee him in the groin fails—I miss by a wide margin—and he laughs weakly. A tired, uneasy sound.

  Then something heavy clatters to the floor.

  James freezes, his wide eyes locked off to the side. My left. In the direction of... A pit grows in my riling stomach as I follow his gaze. It takes a moment to register what he saw, but light glints off whatever fell from his pocket, and my breath catches.

  He wasn’t kidding.

  A black handgun. Hardly a foot away.

  Aah—

  I almost scream again, but I feel an opening—a weakness in James’ hold on my arm through the heavy coat material. Drawing in a deep breath, I wrench the arm upwards. His grip slips from the oversized sleeve, and my right arm is free.

  He sputters. “Hey, wait—!”

  As he scrambles to stand, he drags me to my feet. The room spins from the abrupt movement, renewing the nausea and stabbing pain behind my eyes. I press my free hand to my sticky temple to hold it in.

  James glances toward the gun on the floor, and then to me. His eyes like saucers, his jaw slack. Raising his hands to chest level, one still holding my wrist, he shakes his head wildly.

  “I didn’t mean to—”