To Break a Covenant

by Alison Ames

  The fingers of the hand opened and closed almost experimentally, mechanically, and they had too many joints somehow. I watched them flexing, hypnotized, and I was still walking closer. The hand was beckoning me, drawing me down into the mine, and this time the voice came much closer, and I felt something warm and rotting breathing on me.

  “Clem,” it said again, and then the darkness of the mine was all around me.

  I woke up drenched in sweat, my hands clenched tightly on the sheets. I rolled over and looked at Nina. Her eyes were moving back and forth under her lids, teeth chattering behind closed lips. She was perfectly still aside from these two things. I didn’t want to wake her but the sight chilled me so deeply, filled me with such dread, that I climbed out of bed and crept into my mother’s empty room. I stopped just short of locking the door and fell into her bed, burrowing under the blankets like I had when I was little. When I woke up again, it was daylight and I could smell waffles.

  “Where’d you go?” Nina asked, looking up as I shuffled into the living room. She was wearing my pajama pants, comically short on her, and a hoodie of hers I’d borrowed approximately three years earlier. She had an open magazine on her lap, glossy palm trees, shiny-toothed smiles.

  “You were talking in your sleep.” I was lying, but she used to do it a lot, so it wasn’t coming out of nowhere.

  “Shit,” she said. “Did I say anything good?”

  “Nah.” I walked into the kitchen, trying to settle into the normalcy of toaster waffles. “At one point it almost sounded like ‘pineapple soufflé,’ though.”

  “Mm,” she said, “sounds delicious.”

  We ate breakfast and the shadow of the dream receded, and by the time my mom walked in I felt normal again.

  “Hi, girls.” She dumped her keys onto the table by the door. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “How was work?”

  She just shook her head and ripped open the Velcro tabs on her shoes.

  “Do you two mind going outside?” she asked. I could see the faint brackets around her mouth that meant she was in the grip of a bad headache.

  “Of course not,” Nina said. “Get some sleep.”

  We sat in the yard bouncing a tennis ball back and forth, drinking apple juice, watching the sun climb higher in the sky. We still hadn’t heard back from Nadia.

  I missed the tennis ball by a hair and it bounced off the trailer, rolling back across the yard and under Nina’s stoop.

  “I’m not getting it,” she said around her straw. Her hair straggled out of her ponytail, the tendrils limp in the heat. “I have sunstroke.”

  I sucked down the last of my juice. “Pool?”

  “Pool.”

  We changed in her trailer and started walking down the road. We couldn’t cut through the field because the corn was fully ripe, fat ears crowding the little path that we used so often. So we went the long way, past the bus stop, down the long spoke of the road toward town. The motel was out on an adjacent spoke, off the highway, the crescent of its neon moon visible over the hills just as you saw the sign for the exit.

  As soon as we hit the blacktop and headed out of town, we saw a van parked in front of the doors. The NO in NO VACANCY was flashing above it in slow, strobing motion, and I wondered if anyone ever swerved onto the exit only to see the NO flash up a second too late.

  I could hear shouts and splashing as we got closer, and my head gave a single hollow thud. Crowds weren’t my favorite thing, especially when they were made up mainly of shrieking, overheated children.

  The silhouettes of the people unloading the van wavered in the heat, shimmering and resolving as we drew closer. They were shaking out yards of cable, clipping mic packs to their belt loops. One of them drew out a long, thin metal tube, and I knew at once it was a microphone.

  “Holy shit,” I said, nudging Nina. “Hunters.”

  “Speak of the devil,” she murmured. “Anson’s been busy.”

  “You think he called them?”

  “I think he called them the day Piper and her dad got here.”

  “I wonder why he didn’t mention it to her,” I said. We had slowed our walk considerably, trying to stay out of their immediate surroundings.

  “Probably gonna try and sell them the audio of Carlisle, if Piper gets it,” Nina said.

  It was cynical, but I didn’t disagree.

  “Here we go,” she said as we drew closer. “God, I’m so not in the mood.” She looked idly at her nails as we hit the parking lot, our flip-flops scuffing against the asphalt. The people were wearing black T-shirts emblazoned with the word GHOSTWATCH.

  “Embarrassing,” I said under my breath, and Nina huffed a laugh.

  “Ladies!” one of them said, striding over to us. He was wearing cargo shorts and a beret, for some reason, and sweat was already beading at his temples. “How are you on this fine day?”

  Nina just looked at him and kept walking. I didn’t want to be rude, so I did the high school—jock nod and hoped it would suffice.

  “My name is Glen,” he continued, walking alongside us. “I’m here with GhostWatch. Have you heard of us?”

  I could see the cameraman following our movement, the Handycam at his side tracking us as he pretended to examine a shrub.

  “No,” Nina said flatly.

  He seemed to think she was going to say more, but when nothing was forthcoming and we kept walking, he quickened his pace and leaped in front of us. “Can I just ask for a minute of your time, ladies, a quick minute to talk about—”

  “Excuse me,” I said, pushing past him. Nina jostled him on the other side.

  “Do you have any comment about the recent paranormal occurrences here?” he yelled after us. “The sightings in the mine?”

  I stopped. I couldn’t help it. Nina groaned as I pivoted back to Glen. “Don’t encourage him.”

  He jogged up to us, fumbling with the mic pack at his belt. “There have been reports recently that town residents are seeing things in the mine again.”

  “No one goes into the mine,” Nina said, annoyed. “So I guess you heard wrong.”

  I thought about Carlisle for a second, a brief glimpse of an idea before it skittered away. “Yeah,” I echoed. “No one goes in there. It’s not safe.”

  He jammed the mic toward my face. “Why isn’t it safe?”

  “Didn’t you do your research, Glen?”

  “Of course we did our research. But a local perspective is always—”

  Nina put her hand over the mic and pushed it away.

  Glen lost whatever composure he’d had left. “What about the voices?” he yelled.

  We froze, taken aback by the outburst. “What?” I asked.

  “The voices,” he said, still too loud. “Locals are hearing voices again. The most frequent occurrences since the town was relocated.”

  “Who told you that?” I asked.

  “We don’t reveal our sources. We were told that—”

  “Who told you?” Nina demanded.

  “—that a local woman was hearing voices telling her to go into the mine. Another young man said—”

  “This is bullshit, we’re out of here.” Nina grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the motel. She turned back to Glen with a look of disgust on her face. “You’re a parasite.”

  Then we were through the sliding door into the cool air-conditioned lobby. I paused as we walked toward the pool to glance at Mellie, frozen there on the wall, and then we were back outside and the heat rolled over us, carrying the sound of too many voices. Nina unslung her towel from around her neck and walked toward the pool, stepping out of her shorts as she moved. She dropped the towel in a heap on top of them. In another step she was in the pool, water closing over her head as she sank with barely a ripple. I threw my own towel on top of hers, peeling off my shorts and top and then sitting down on the edge of the pool. My feet looked paler underwater, rippling under the surface.

  Nina surfaced, her hair plastered to her back and shoulders, eyelashes beaded with
water. “C’mon,” she said. “It’s not gonna get any colder.”

  She wrapped one of her long-fingered hands around my ankle and pulled gently until I pushed myself off the edge and slipped in. The cool water closed over me like silk, resting heavy on my eyelids, pulling itself through my hair. I folded my legs, pushing upward against the water, forcing myself into a seated position at the bottom of the pool. I felt the cold all around me, felt it filling my ears and muffling my thoughts, and then someone kicked me in the head. I jerked and yelped and gulped a mouthful of chlorine, shooting to the surface even as I hacked my lungs out.

  “Sorry,” the little kid said when I splashed up, gasping. He smiled at me, displaying an unnerving lack of front teeth, and paddled his little kickboard away.

  “Ow,” I mumbled, rubbing my head. I coughed up a little more water, my throat burning.

  Nina watched me. I could tell she was trying not to smile.

  “Oh, shut up.” I pushed a little wave at her. “I could have drowned.”

  “I’d save you from drowning.”

  “Unless it was a little kid that drowned me. Then you’d be too busy laughing.”

  She grinned and propped herself on the edge of the pool, her elbows holding her above the water as she leaned back and looked around. I pressed myself against the wall next to her, keeping everything below my chin submerged. We looked out across the pool, the crush of bodies and floaties and a beach ball that kept getting bounced out of the water, a different kid scrambling to retrieve it each time.

  “Not bad,” she said.

  “Not bad,” I echoed.

  She kicked her feet up out of the water and we looked at her pink-painted toenails way down there at the end of her legs. She tipped her head back, letting her wet hair puddle on the concrete behind her.

  Suddenly we were in shadow, and I looked up to see Danny Nelson leering down at us.

  “Nina,” he said, grinning unpleasantly. “You’re looking ripe.”

  “Sit and spin, Danny,” she said without looking up. “Stop blocking the sun.”

  “I’ll sit anywhere you want, mamacita.”

  Nina rolled her eyes and slid underwater, surfacing a moment later to clamber out of the pool. I climbed out behind her and started picking up our stuff. She moved up close to Danny, wringing out her hair, and looked down at him. Danny’s not as tall as she is and he hates it, so she tries to remind him whenever possible. She cocked her hip and folded her arms, waiting for him to speak.

  “Hey, it’s cool,” he said, holding his hands up. “Just trying to be friendly.”

  She sighed. It was a long sigh, a beleaguered one, and I could tell she was deciding whether or not he was worth the effort. Finally she reached out, put her hand on his face—it covered the whole thing, like a starfish—and pushed him gently out of our way.

  “Let’s go, Clem.” She stepped back into her sandals. “See you, Danny.”

  Paul came out of the stairwell into the lobby just as the doors opened for us, carrying a tank that looked like something out of Ghostbusters.

  “Room 217 again,” he said.

  “Ghosts,” Nina singsonged.

  “The curse of the haunted air conditioner.” He laughed. “See you at home.”

  “Bye, Papa. Don’t work too hard.”

  The ghost hunters were still in the parking lot. Nina strode up to Glen and tapped his arm. He flinched and she smiled.

  “Listen, I was rude before,” she said in her sweetest voice. “We’re all just under so much stress because of all the haunting. You know how it is. Let me make it up to you, okay? There’s a kid in there who’s definitely had some wild paranormal encounters.”

  She saw she had his attention, lowered her voice to just above a whisper, and continued, “He’s like, five eight or so, green swim trunks, his name’s Danny, and you should definitely interview him. Like, don’t let him get away, because he could make your show.”

  We made it far enough away that we could barely hear them rushing all their equipment into the hotel. Then we burst out laughing.

  “Very elegant,” I said after a minute. “Much less violent than your usual Danny solutions.”

  She shrugged. “I’m tired of having to explain to his dad that I’m not playing hard to get.”

  “Fair.”

  We walked across the center of town, onto the spoke directly opposite the highway—technically, the spoke that led to Old Town—and headed for the SuperStop. The gas station was a weird community hub; there were always at least a few kids skateboarding in the parking lot or sitting in the bed of a pickup truck while they shotgunned beers. It had two pumps, one of which was cash only, and a sign in the window that said NOT HAUNTED. They put that up after the third time a ghost hunter accidentally broke the security camera with a boom mic, hoping it would keep the (admittedly very tiny) store clear. It had mixed results—show a ghost hunter a sign that says NOT HAUNTED and you’re essentially begging them to assume it’s a lie—but at least they only take the handheld cameras in there now. We pushed through the shrubs lining the parking lot and crossed the blacktop, which was hot enough that it felt vaguely sticky. There was a little kid trying to do a wheelie in the shade of the metal canopy as Sheryl Crow played tinnily from the overhead speaker.

  “Hey, Fish,” Nina yelled as we jangled through the door. Fish was nineteen and totally in love with Nina. She let him give us free slushies and trusted him not to report us truant when we showed up on school days, but he was a dropout, so that was as far as he was getting with her. “How’s it hangin’?”

  “Same old, Terrazos.” He always talked real slow, his words pulled long and soft like taffy. “You here for a job?”

  “Wouldn’t you love that,” she said, sashaying back to the slushie machine. She cranked the handle down, filled two cups, and handed me one, cherry-red and sticky. I sucked in a mouthful, crushing the ice into the roof of my mouth. Nina bared her pink-slicked teeth at me in a sweet, feral smile.

  Fish cleared his throat. “You hear about Rennie?”

  “Rennie? From the diner? No, what happened?” Nina asked.

  “She quit,” he said. “A few days ago. She walked out. I was there.”

  “Weird,” Nina said. “Why?”

  Fish leaned across the counter, completely oblivious to me. I picked up a lip balm and put it down.

  “You probably don’t remember,” he said. “But a while back—when I was pretty young—she went away for a while. To an institution.”

  “Fish, you’re only, like, two years older than us,” Nina said. “Whatever. Go on.”

  “I heard my parents talking about it once. They said she was hearing stuff. They said she tried to take Sammy into the mine.”

  “Her kid?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Fucked up, right?”

  “Why would she do that?”

  My mouth was dry. I closed my hand around a pair of tweezers.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I think she’s gonna go away again. I think she’s hearing whatever she heard back then.”

  Fish’s throat worked. Nina raised an eyebrow. I slipped the tweezers into my pocket.

  “You sound like you really believe that,” she said.

  He flushed and folded his arms. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Why would you?” she said.

  “I’ve been hearing things, too.” He leaned farther over the counter. I moved my hand away from the gum. “In my head.”

  “Some people call that ‘having a thought.’”

  “Don’t be an asshole. Have you ever had anything like that happen?” Suddenly he was looking at me, his face too close to mine. “Have you?”

  I shook my head, not to say no, but to try and clear it. He looked nervous, almost defensive, like he wanted us to validate what he was feeling. He wanted stories that would prove he wasn’t alone. “You’re the one who talked to Glen,” I said slowly. “You told him about the voices.”

  Nina slapped her hand
down onto the counter. “Oh, goddamn it, Fish—”

  “Look, Nina, just because you don’t believe in it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “It doesn’t mean it can’t hurt you.”

  Nina rolled her eyes. “Thanks for that, I’ll log that away. I hope you at least made him give you a free T-shirt.”

  Then her cold hand was in mine, pulling me, and we were walking out of the gas station into sunlight. She waited until we were past the drugstore and then looked at me, chewing on her straw.

  “Little miss stress-klepto,” she said as she held out her hand expectantly.

  I could feel myself blushing as I placed the tweezers in her palm.

  “You gotta work on this,” she said. “Not everyone is as enthralled by me as Fish.”

  She turned and walked back toward the SuperStop. I stood there sucking on my straw, letting the tiny crystals of ice slide down my throat and paint my insides cool and calm and red. The shoplifting was a nervous habit I’d tried and failed to break. Half the time I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I felt a bright flare of panic every time I found something new in one of my pockets, but I didn’t know how to stop.

  I thought about Rennie, trying to take her baby into the mine. I thought about Sidney trying to take Mellie down there. I thought about the way Carlisle’s face had gone flat and lifeless as he listened to the silence in the tunnels, and I was walking before I’d consciously made the decision to go back. I slammed open the door just as Nina was turning away from the counter and demanded, “What did you hear?”

  Fish looked up at me, eyes narrowed. “I heard you’re still shoplifting.”

  “No,” I said impatiently. “The voices. What did you hear?”

  He darted a glance at Nina. “Um—well. It’s not always words. Mostly it’s just like … this really strong urge to go into the mine. And then sometimes it kind of sounds like—” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man. I know how it sounds. I just feel off lately, you know?”

  “Yeah, totally,” Nina said, the sarcastic inflection too subtle for him to pick up on. I felt a twinge of pity for him.