The Ridge

by John Rector

  At the back of the room was a glass-topped counter beside an open wooden door. A young boy in a faded Denver Broncos T-shirt stood behind it.

  He stared at her.

  Megan said, “Are you here by yourself?”

  The kid looked at her, studying her face.

  She gave him a minute, then tried again.

  “Do you work here?”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward.

  “Beep, beep, bop-bop.” He tilted his head to one side and smiled, showing yellow teeth. “Bop-bop. Does not compute.”

  Megan frowned. “Is there someone else who—”

  The boy turned slowly. “Boop, boop-bee deep.”

  A man’s voice, deep and harsh, came from behind the open wooden door. “Travis, knock that shit off.”

  The boy stopped, smiled at her, shrugged.

  Megan angled over to look past the open door, but before she could see anything, a man in a gray T-shirt stepped out, wiping his hands on a greasy red rag.

  He saw her, then looked down at the boy and frowned.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” He put one large, grease-stained hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him, not gently, off the stool toward the open door. “Go back and help your sister.”

  Once the boy was gone, the man dropped the rag on the far end of the counter and said, “Sorry about that.” He tapped the side of his head with one finger. “That kid has never been quite right upstairs.”

  “It’s okay,” Megan said. “I understand.”

  The man nodded. “Was that you who pulled in?”

  She told him it was.

  “Sounds like you’re having some trouble.”

  “Do you think you can help?”

  “I think I can take a look,” he said. “Can’t promise I can help, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  Megan felt a rush of relief, and it must’ve shown on her face because the man held up one hand. “Don’t get your hopes up. It didn’t sound too good.”

  “I know,” she said. “But anything you can do.”

  The man grabbed the rag off the counter and slid it into his back pocket as he came around. Megan followed him to the door, but before they walked out, she heard giggling coming from the back of the room.

  She turned in time to see two small heads duck back behind the open wooden door.

  Megan frowned and walked out.

  18

  She followed the man across the parking lot to her car. When they got there, he asked her to pop the hood.

  She did.

  The man braced it open with the prop. Then he stepped back, waving away heat and smoke.

  “Try to start it.”

  Megan slid the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine made a short, cracking sound.

  “Okay, that’s enough.”

  She got out and walked around to the front of the car. “It’s been making a noise for a while. What do you think?”

  The man took the red rag from his pocket, leaned over the engine and reached in, wiping away dirt and oil. He didn’t say anything at first. Then he frowned and stepped back. “Do you have another way home?”

  The tone of his voice was resigned, and a dull weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

  “This car, I hope.”

  “’Fraid not,” he said. “How about someone you can call? Is there anyone who can pick you up and take you back to the Ridge?”

  “How do you know I’m from Willow Ridge?”

  The man looked at her for a long moment, and Megan saw a smile in his eyes. “Lucky guess?”

  She decided to let it go.

  “I’m not going back there,” she said. “I’m on my way to Chicago.”

  “By yourself?”

  Megan frowned. “You see anyone else in the car?”

  The second the words were out, she regretted them. This man was her only chance of getting her car fixed, and the last thing she needed to do was start a fight with him over a woman’s ability to drive across the country alone.

  If it meant getting her car fixed and getting back on the road, she was willing to put up with almost anything, even small-minded, small-town opinions.

  Except, he didn’t seem to care.

  “Hate to tell you, but this car isn’t going to Chicago. It’s not even going back to the Ridge unless you know someone with a tow truck.”

  “You can’t fix it?”

  “Not a chance,” he said. “The engine’s seized.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, that’s bad.”

  Megan folded her arms over her chest and looked out at the park across the street, the ash trees swaying in the distance.

  She wasn’t ready to give up.

  “How about a bus?”

  “A what?”

  “A bus,” she said. “Is there a bus station in town? Can I buy a ticket to Chicago?”

  He shook his head. “There are no buses.”

  “There has to be something,” she said. “How do people get anywhere around here?”

  The man slipped the rag back into his pocket. Then he reached up, closed the hood, and motioned toward the garage. “If you’d like, you can use the phone to call for a ride. Best I can do.”

  “What about the car?”

  “We can push it around back, maybe salvage it for parts.” He looked down at it, resting his hands on his hips. “Nothing else I can do.”

  “Parts?” She laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. “It can’t be that bad. What about a new engine, or replacing what’s broken? Can’t you order whatever it is you need to fix it?”

  He shook his head. “Miss, this is an old car. It’s seen its last days. I’m sorry.”

  Megan looked down at the Corsica, paused. “I’ve had it since college. It’s the first thing I ever bought myself.”

  The man watched her, his eyes kind.

  “Come on inside,” he said, starting for the garage. “You can use the phone, call for a ride.”

  Megan leaned against the car as he walked away. After a few steps, he realized she wasn’t behind him, and he stopped and looked back.

  “Do you want to think about it?”

  She nodded.

  “Take your time,” he said. “Every place around here closes up at about nine, but I’ll be open until eleven. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “I understand.”

  He stared at her, a deep line forming between his eyebrows, as if debating something.

  “You really don’t want to go back there, do you?”

  Megan smiled. “Doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

  For a minute, she thought he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded, turned, and headed for the dark, A-frame building, and the boarded-up door.

  Megan looked over at the park across the street. The sky was nearly dark, and the moon was already out, full and bright, turning everything a peaceful blue.

  She thought about Tyler, and about what she was going to tell him when she called home. He would want to know why she went to Ashland, and she knew it wouldn’t matter what she told him. He’d know she was trying to leave. And now, with no car, and no way to get to Chicago, she’d have no choice but to go back and settle in at Willow Ridge.

  No matter how she looked at it, or how many different options she tried to imagine, in the end it was clear.

  She was trapped.

  Megan was in no hurry to go home, so instead of calling Tyler, she walked down to the road and glanced up at the hardware store on the corner. There was a diner a few doors farther down, and a laundromat beyond that.

  She started walking.

  Most of the buildings she passed were older and made of stone or brick. Each one had a large storefront window that faced out toward the sidewalk, and several of those windows were broken and boarded up.

  It made her think of Fiona and her renovation project.

  A few of the stores were ope
n, but she didn’t go inside. Instead, she stood on the sidewalk and watched the locals move between them. She didn’t think she looked too out of place, but she could feel that all eyes were on her.

  After a while, Megan got tired of the attention, and she headed back to the park across from the garage and sat on one of the benches next to a grass-covered knoll. There was a paved walking trail running through the center of the park. It was dotted with a string of antique street lamps, each one casting a small amber island of light along the path.

  Megan could hear the wind passing through the trees around her, and when she looked up through the branches, her breath caught in her throat. The sky was an explosion of stars, more than she’d ever seen.

  When she was younger, someone, she couldn’t remember who, told her that nearly all the stars in the sky died out ages ago, and that their light was just now reaching the earth. So when people stared up at the night sky, what they were really doing was looking into the past and seeing how things once were.

  Megan thought about that for a while, trying to remember who’d told her about the stars, but the memory was lost to time, and something inside of her began to ache.

  In the distance, a dog barked.

  She glanced back at the road. It was completely dark now, but the gas station lights were still on. She could see the shadow of her car parked where she’d left it next to the garage, and she understood that it was time to go.

  Still, it took her a while to stand up.

  As she walked back to the gas station, she told herself what a part of her had known ever since that night in Rachel’s garage.

  She was on her own.

  From now on, she wasn’t going to say anything about moving back to Chicago. She wouldn’t talk to Tyler about Rachel, and she wouldn’t tell him about the men she saw in the white vans. She wasn’t going to mention her conversation with Mr. Addison, or how the damage she’d seen in their home had been fixed overnight.

  From now on, she would keep everything to herself.

  From now on, she was on her own.

  19

  She made the call, but not to Tyler.

  Thirty minutes later, Fiona pulled up outside the gas station in a white SUV. Megan was waiting outside, leaning against the hood of her car. She had her bag from the trunk sitting next to her on the ground, and when she opened the passenger door of the SUV and climbed in, Fiona looked at the bag with one eyebrow raised.

  “So you were leaving.”

  “What?”

  She nodded toward the bag. “Your getaway bag?”

  “This is everything from my car,” Megan said, dodging the question. “I can’t believe it finally died.”

  Fiona stared at her, and Megan could tell that she wanted to say more. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned the SUV around and pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road and didn’t say anything.

  Megan let the silence build.

  “Is this your car?”

  “Institute’s,” Fiona said. “I don’t get to use it too often, but they let me keep it just in case. Most of the time it’s in the garage gathering dust.”

  “I’m glad you had it. I owe you.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Again, silence.

  Main Street slipped by outside the window. Then it was gone. They passed the tree-lined streets and wooden houses, and they drove over the railroad tracks. Then Fiona turned onto CR-11, heading back to Willow Ridge.

  “Are you wondering why I didn’t call Tyler?”

  “Not really.”

  “Is that true?”

  Fiona glanced over at her, the light from the dashboard shining red against her face. “Megan, I know an escape bag when I see one.” She paused. “Besides, Tyler called looking for you tonight. He said you two had plans to visit the Addisons, but you didn’t show up.”

  Megan cringed. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “He wanted to know if you’d said anything about going back to Chicago,” Fiona said. “He was worried.”

  “I didn’t think he’d call you.”

  “I take it you two are having problems?”

  “You could say that.” Megan hesitated. “What else did he tell you?”

  “He told me you asked him to move back with you, but that he wasn’t ready to leave.”

  “That’s all?”

  “He said you promised him you’d stay if he went with you to see Rachel.”

  Megan turned toward the passenger window and looked out at the dark blur of cornfields passing outside.

  “That got me thinking about the day I ran into you outside her house,” Fiona said. “The day you—”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  Fiona hesitated. “Is there a problem between you and Rachel?”

  “She’s gone,” Megan said. “She left town.”

  “That doesn’t answer my—”

  “She went to visit her sister,” Megan said, cutting her off. “At least that’s what her husband said.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  A minute passed, and then Fiona pulled over, slowing down and stopping along the side of the empty road. She put the car in park and turned in her seat.

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Megan looked up at her.

  She wanted to tell her the truth, starting with the night in the garage, and ending with the white vans and seeing them take Rachel out of her house in a body bag. She wanted to confess, mostly because she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

  “I’m worried about you,” Fiona said. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends.”

  “Then let me help.”

  Megan shook her head. “You’ll think I’m crazy. Tyler doesn’t believe me. You won’t believe me, either.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  Outside, the cornfields swayed black in the wind, chattering together under a swirling sea of dead stars.

  Megan listened to the sound, trying to decide.

  Eventually, she turned and faced Fiona. “I don’t know where to start.”

  Fiona put her hand on Megan’s arm. “Start with Rachel,” she said. “Tell me what happened. Why were you outside her house that day?”

  Megan shook her head and tried to tell her that she didn’t want to start there, but when she looked up, Fiona was watching her, smiling, and she lost the words.

  Megan took a deep breath and tried again.

  This time, she told her everything.

  Once Megan finished, Fiona sat back in her seat and stared out at the road, silent. A minute passed, then she reached down and put the SUV in gear and continued on toward Willow Ridge.

  Megan let the silence drag on for a long time, but eventually she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t say anything.”

  “I just need a minute.”

  Megan gave her one.

  “I’m not crazy.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “Everything I told you happened,” she said. “I didn’t imagine it. I know what I saw.”

  Fiona nodded, but she still didn’t speak.

  Megan could feel the fear and frustration building inside her, and all the muscles in her body twisted like they were about to snap. She wanted to tell Fiona to forget she said anything, and to drop her off at home and she’d never hear from her again.

  But then Fiona spoke.

  “When did Roger say she was coming home?”

  “Who?”

  “Rachel’s husband.” She glanced at Megan, her eyes reflecting the red from the dashboard. “He told you she was visiting her sister.”

  “That’s what he said, but—”

  “But you don’t believe him.”

  Megan thought about her answer, shook her head. “I saw them carry her body out of the house.”

 
; “You saw a bag.”

  “A body bag.”

  “How do you know it was her?”

  “Who the hell else would it be?” Megan’s voice was harsh, and she held up one hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

  “It’s okay,” Fiona said. “I’m trying to keep an open mind and make sense of all this, but it’s not easy.”

  “I know.”

  Fiona didn’t say anything for a minute. Then she nodded and said, “I believe you saw something.”

  Megan laughed, even though she didn’t think it was funny. “Well, that’s a start. It’s more than I got from Tyler.”

  “You have to admit, it’s a hell of a story.”

  Megan didn’t speak.

  “When did Roger say she’d be home?”

  “A few days.”

  “He didn’t say what day?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “I want to talk to her when she gets back,” Fiona said. “Right away. I don’t want to wait.”

  Megan looked over at her, frowning. “Why would you talk to her?”

  “Because I believe you,” she said. “I believe that something happened to Rachel, and that you saw it. There could be a lot of explanations, but if she’s up and walking around and taking vacations to visit family, I think we can rule out that she died, don’t you?”

  Fiona’s voice was so reasonable, so calm, that Megan almost agreed with her. But then she thought about Rachel twitching and suffocating on the floor of her garage, and she couldn’t.

  “I know what I saw.”

  “Megan.” Fiona’s voice was patient. “If it was something else—if she knocked herself unconscious, or if she has some kind of brain injury—we need to help her. You agree with me on that, right?”

  “She wasn’t unconscious.”

  “I know you think that, but—”

  “I don’t think it, I know it.”

  Fiona sighed. “I want to see her so we can rule out every other possibility. Once we do that, then maybe I’ll be willing to make the jump to zombie, but not before.”

  Megan couldn’t help but smile. “Zombie?”

  Fiona smiled back. “And here I was, thinking I’d seen it all around here.”

  20

  They pulled off CR-11 and into Willow Ridge. Fiona hadn’t said anything in a while, and Megan didn’t push. The night seemed fragile, and while she didn’t regret telling her, she wanted to let Fiona put it all together in her head for herself.