“It’s about a Mrs. Goolsby,” Casper looked at her.
My mother’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers drummed across the dresser.
Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“Who’s Mrs. Goolsby?” She asked.
I bolted out of the living room and through the front door. If they were going to act this way, of they were going to pretend an entire person didn’t exist, then I was going to prove them wrong. I’d go get Mrs. Goolsby and bring her to them. Let’s see them scrunch their noses at that.
“Cresta!” Mom’s voice came booming from behind me. “Cresta, come back!”
I kept going; my feet squishing again through the still damp grass. I probably looked like a crazy person; running around barefoot in my pajamas at noon with my mother and best friend chasing after me, but I didn’t care about that now. This was the second time in a day that I had ran out of my house looking for answers, and I was more confused than ever. Things were insane, and I needed to make sense of it.
I heard Casper catching up with me as I skidded to a stop in front of Mrs. Goolsby’s house. Or, more aptly, what used to be Mrs. Goolsby’s house.
It was completely different. The house, which just yesterday was a tinted, almost dingy shade of white/yellow, was now a fresh minty blue. The yard, always a bit overgrown, was neat and trim. In front of the house, like almost every empty house in Crestview, a picture of Nelson Ennis, the only real estate agent in town, sat dug on a sign near the road. His familiar ‘Git ‘r Sold’ slogan was splashed across the brim of his oversized cowboy hat, which was an as-ridiculous-as-it-sounded trademark of his.
Casper almost slammed into me as I stood wide-eyed in front of the house. He spun me around, huffing from the run. “Dude,” he huffed. His face was red and splotched with acne, which had settled into a nest on his forehead near his hairline. “You are seriously scaring me.”
I scanned his face for even the smallest sign that he might be joking, but again came up empty. Mom came up behind him. Over his shoulder, I could see worry lines forming above her eyes. This wasn’t right. How was I going to prove Mrs. Goolsby was real if she wasn’t here?
I met her eyes, and the look in them made me feel crazy, stupid, and powerless all at once. I pulled away from Casper. He reached for me again, but I swatted him away.
“She was here. She was right here,” I said to Mom.
Her mud brown curls swayed in the breeze; surrounded by tiny dark twisters of hair. “I know baby,” she said. “I believe you.”
But she didn’t. How could she? I barely believed myself anymore. How could any of it be real if there was no proof and I was the only one who remembered it?
The few people that lived on our street had poured out of their homes and gathered across the street from us to check out the drama. There was no doubt that, by lunchtime, my little tantrum would be top tier salon gossip; the quiet girl from the big city with the dead daddy had finally lost it. If history was any indication, by dinner, the story would have grown arms and legs. Not that it mattered. I never cared what these backward hicks thought of me and I wasn’t going to today.
Mr. Colburn though, who was standing in his yard pretending to rake leaves as he stared at me, he was a different story; at least for the moment. He lived across from Mrs. Goolsby for like, two centuries. If anyone remembered her, it would be him.
“Colburn!” I yelled over my mother’s shoulder. “Tell them about Mrs. Goolsby! Tell them!”
He reared back, clutching his rake for dear life. “Missy, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar!” I shouted and kicked the ground, which hurt like hell, since I was still barefoot. “You’re all liars! Why are you lying?”
“Cresta!” Mom grabbed my shoulders and squeezed. “Get it together!” She leaned in so that our faces were inches apart. With our noses almost touching, she whispered, “I’m going to ask you this once. Are you taking drugs?”
I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. It was all too much. This didn’t make any sense. It had to have something to do with Owen and what we saw in the missing Mrs. Goolsby’s basement. What had he said though?
“The lines,” I muttered, remembering. “He said the lines were changing.”
Mom’s grip loosed. Her face grew pale white and stone still. She pulled away a little. “What did you just say?”
“The lines,” I repeated, though I knew I was rambling like a crazy person.
“Take her home,” Mom turned to Casper, who was biting on his nails so furiously that, for a second, I thought he was going to draw blood.
He must have assumed I was going to swing at him again because, before I could move, he whipped me off my feet and slung me over his shoulder.
Maybe it was because I was exhausted, maybe because I was defeated, or maybe because I wasn’t looking forward to walking back to the house without shoes on, but I didn’t mind it.
“Your butt is so close to my face right now,” he said as he carried me back to the house caveman style.
By the time Mom quieted the gossipy firestorm I had created outside, I had curled up on the sofa, sipping on the microwavable hot chocolate Casper made for me and not saying much. Was I crazy? I didn’t feel crazy. Unless, of course, this is what crazy felt like.
She rounded the couch and sat on the floor in front of me; her legs tucked under her. Her hair was still a mess and, while she still looked concerned, the tired sheen had washed from her eyes, replaced by a sort of manic intensity.
I swallowed hard. My throat was sore from all the screaming and the hot chocolate, while yummy, wasn’t helping. “Mom, I-“
“I believe you,” she said, her eyes pinned on mine. I knew my mom even better than I knew Casper. Her eyes weren’t joking either. She did believe me. But how could she?
The phone in the kitchen started ringing. Instinctively, I moved her get it. Mom touched my leg and motioned for me to stay still. She wasn’t taking any calls right now.
“This is very important,” she said. “I need you to tell me about Mrs. Goolsby. Tell me about the lines and absolutely everything about the world that is different than how you believe it to be.”
I tensed, sitting the hot chocolate on the couch exactly where Owen’s eggplant had been a day ago.
“It was Owen,” I choked out. “He had been sneaking into Mrs. Goolsby’s- the house across the street. He said that he had been watching me; that some lines were changing.”
She took my hand and flipped it over. She ran her fingers across my palm and inspected it. “Changing how?”
“I don’t-“
Casper burst in from the kitchen. I had forgotten he was still in the house. “Mrs. Karr,” he said meekly as though he was sure he was interrupting something. “Dr. Conyers called.”
“Tell her I’ll call her back,” Mom said, still looking at her hand on mine.
“She already hung up,” he explained. “She said she couldn’t meet you tomorrow though.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Mom waved him off.
“She said traffic would be a pain, that there’s construction on Greene Street or something.”
Mom dropped my hand.
“Greene Street? You’re sure she said Greene Street?”
“Uh, yeah,” Casper shrugged. “I remember ‘cause I thought she said Greep Street, and I was like where’s Greep Str-“
“That’s enough,” Mom said and hopped to her feet. “Cresta, get dressed. We’re leaving.”
I stood slowly; still lightheaded from everything that had gone on. “Where are we going?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she turned to Casper, who looked like he was still waiting to finish his Greep Street story. “Casper, go home. Forget everything you saw here.” She looked back at me. There was something like regret in her eyes. “In fact, it’s probably better if you forget you ever met us at all.”
“What?!” I said before Casper had a chance to react. “Mom, what is going on? “
“Cresta, I said get dressed!” Mom was never one to raise her voice. So, the fact that she did left me a little breathless. Of course, that might have been the asthma.
“But Mom-“
“Don’t fight with me Cresta, not now!” She moved further into the living room and pressed her palms flat against the wall above the faux fireplace we got last year when she decided the space wasn’t ‘lively enough’. There was something strange about her, and not just in the weird words and odd demands she was throwing out. It was in her movements. She moved fluidly; like water. Her fingers traced incredibly straight lines on the wall, which curved into boxes. When her hands met at one of the invisible boxes points, the area that she had traced shifted. The wall, the same wall I had looked at every day for the past two years, contorted. It moved out and then opened, revealing a hidden compartment on the other side.
“Mom…” I gasped.
Mom pulled a small briefcase from the wall and, as quickly as the compartment opened, it slammed shut, reverting back to a plain old wall. She moved quickly toward me, as graceful as any dancer would.
“Mom,” I grabbed her arm. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.”
She leaned into me and brushed strands of hair out of my eyes. “There isn’t time right now. But I will baby; soon. I promise. Now go get your clothes on.”
She didn’t even look like herself. Sure, she had the same face; the same clothes on, but there was a determination in her eyes that, when coupled with the way she now moved, made her look foreign to me; like someone had lifted a veil from my mother and I was just now seeing her for the first time.
I was about to run upstairs when Casper spoke.
“Mrs. Karr…” He was looking out the front door.
“Casper, son, you need to go home,” she said calmly.
“I will,” he fidgeted, still turned to the door. “It’s just, you’ve got company.”
Instantly, Mom sprinted to the door. I followed her and, looking out I saw three cars pulled up into our yard. They had bypassed the driveway and were now idling just inches from the front door. They were identical; all black Sedans.
“Get away from the door!” Mom screamed and grabbed Casper and I with either hand.
“Mom,” I said. I didn’t realize how much I was shaking until her steadied hand let go.
“Where is your necklace, Cresta?” She asked me, the determination in her eyes now tinted with something more frantic.
“It’s right-“ I reached for it, but found my throat bare. That was impossible. I never took that necklace off. Never.
“Damnit!’ She screamed. She grabbed the briefcase and shoved it into my chest. “Listen to me. There isn’t much time, so I can only say this once. I need you to do exactly as I tell you. Do you remember the weak spot in the fence that the Berkley children used to drive their four-wheelers through?”
I nodded.
“Good. I want you to sneak through there and get to my car. Once you’re there, I want you to press this sequence in the navigation system; 6,7,R,7,9,3, just like that.”
“No!” I panicked once I realized what she was asking. She was asking me to leave her. To what, I had no idea, but it was clear that my mother didn’t expect to come with me. “I’m not leaving you.” Hot tears spilled from my eyes.
“Yes you are Cresta. I promised to keep you safe no matter what the cost, and that’s what I’m going to do. Now, once you’ve typed in that sequence, follow the directions to the destination it shows. Stop for nothing. It might say that you need gas, but that car has tricks. Trust no one. I don’t care how well you think you know them. When you get to where you’re going, I want you to find a man named Morgan Montgomery. Tell him Ash sent you.”
“Ash?” I repeated. “Mom, just let me call the police.”
“ No!”She grabbed my shoulders and squeezed them tight. “ The police can’t help you. They’ll just slow you down; get you caught. Go to Morgan. You can trust him Cresta.” Tears started to glisten in her own eyes. “You do what he tells you. He’s a good man. And Cresta,” her grip tightened. “No matter what they tell you, no matter what you hear, I do love you; very, very much.”
“Mom, I don’t want to-“
The door exploded open in a sea of wooden splinters. Mom grabbed me and pulled me behind her, shielding me from whatever just destroyed out front door. Looking over her shoulder, I saw three men in the doorway. The buzz cut army dude from last night, Jiqui, was flanked on either side by burly men that I had never seen before.
“Go Cresta,” Mom muttered, and let go of me.
“I’m not leaving you,” I said. And I didn’t. I stood, still as a statue, clutching the briefcase she gave me to my chest.
“Don’t make this all for nothing Cresta. Get out of here. I’ll hold them off.”
Jiqui walked toward us, his muscled flunkies a few steps behind. He looked Casper up and down. His nose was wrinkled, like he thought Casper smelled like fish or something. “Was it really necessary to involve the Neanderthals?” He turned to Mom.
Mom’s fingers curled up into fists and she adjusted her weight, almost like she was getting into a fighting stance. “Leave now,” she said.
“I do think so,” Jiqui said. He wore a three piece suit and a thin black tie. The men behind him were dressed identically though, while Jiqui paced around the room, they stood stalwart in the center; their hard faces unmoving, unblinking.
“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Mom said through gritted teeth. “And it’s not a luxury I’ll afford you again. Now leave, or I’ll make you wish you did. You have no idea how far I’d go to-“
“Please!” Jiqui spit, obviously disgusted. I felt Mom tense as he got closer. “We know all about you; all about what you’ve done, and the abominations you and your brethren have inflicted on this world. Do you really think you’re above the law; above destiny? He will prove you wrong. He’ll rip away your little pretenses and expose you to the sharp light of truth. And what will we see then, Mrs. Karr? Who will you be then?”
He said her name like it was a curse, like the words hurt on the way out.
“A mother,” Mom said. Mom twirled and shoved me, knocking me back. “Get her out of here!” She yelled to Casper. “I’ll see you when I see you,” she winked at me, and then turned back to Jiqui and the others.
The burly men advanced on her. I cringed. I knew she wanted to protect me, but how could she? She was five foot nothing and these guys would block out the sun if they ever stood up straight.
“Mom, no!” I yelled. She didn’t turn to me. Instead, she jumped into the air. She pulled back in midair. Her legs joined and, before he knew what she was doing, the first of the burly men got her Sketchers across his chin. He fell back, though whatever shock he felt was nothing compared to what I was feeling. My mom wasn’t a fighter. Hell, she was a klutz. She could barely maneuver a shopping cart. How was she doing this?
The second of the burly men found himself on the receiving end of a karate chop to the throat and a kick to the shin.
“Go!” Mom screamed, and turned to me just long enough for the first man, who had composed himself, to land a jackhammer of a punch across her jaw.
“No!” I yelled and tried to go to her, but Casper had already got me. I kicked and screamed. I clawed at him, but it was no use. He tossed me over his shoulder, just like before, and started toward the door. The last thing I saw before we burst to the outside was my mom on all fours, panting for breath, about to get pummeled by one of her gorilla looking attackers.
“Casper, let me down!” My voice was hoarse, my throat hurt, and tears made salt tracks down my cheeks. The air was cool against my fevered skin. I tried to suck in air, but I couldn’t. I was having an asthma attack or a panic attack; probably both.
I must have beat bruises into Casper’s back by the time he let me down. We had ducked through the weak part of the fence and were now beside my mother’s car on the back side of the house.
My feet w
ere Jell-O as they hit the driveway. I leaned against my knees and tried to catch my breath. My inhaler was gone; left or lost somewhere. Maybe it was with my necklace. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t think about that right now. I couldn’t think about anything but my mother.
“Just breath,” Casper put his hand on my back.
I knocked it away and laid into him with a flurry of slaps and punches. “You son of a bitch!” I yelled. “You left her! You made me leave her!”
I turned and tried to run back to the house, back to my mother, but he had me by the waist again. He wasn’t going to let me go. I struggled; pushed him, kicked at him, but it was no use. He was stronger than me and determined not to let me get away.
“What are you gonna do?” He asked and, though I was turned the other way, I could hear the tears in his voice. “You wanna save her? Well, you can’t. Neither of us can. All you’re gonna do is get yourself killed!”
I collapsed, falling to the ground in a mess of tears. His arms were still around me when I spoke. “I left my dad. I left him there in that water, all by himself. And now he’s dead. He’s dead and he’s never coming back. If I can’t save her, that’s fine. If I die, bring it on. But I can’t leave her Casper. I won’t leave my mom too.”
Casper crouched beside me. His arms were still wrapped around me, but they were looser now.
“Please Cass,” I sobbed. “Please, just let me go.”
“I…I can’t,” his voice trembled.
“You have to,” I pulled futilely, tasting tears that had run down to my lips.
“I can’t,” he repeated. “I can’t move.”
Turning to him, I saw that the hurt I had heard in his voice had now become sharp immediate fear.
“I can’t move an inch. “ I pushed against him and pulled as his arms, but they didn’t move at all. His body was a stone wall, and for some reason, he was trapped in it.
“What’s happening to me Cresta?” He asked.
“Sorry,” a voice sounded before I could respond. “That’s a side effect.” The amputee from the night before came floating into view. He was dressed in a suit that perfectly matched Jiqui and the other intruders, except the legs of his pants hung loosely; their edges dragging the ground. His hair was silver points and his face was colored with a menacing smile. His eyes, once kind, now danced with something darker.
Paranormal After Dark Page 364