Night Skyy

by Rich Bullock

  Skyy sat straighter, scooting down the sofa to be closer to the fire. “Where is he? I still haven’t talked to him.”

  “He went to San Diego for some legal meetings. Hopes to be back Tuesday evening.”

  Tuesday? Skyy stared into the rising flames. The glass door seemed an apt reminder of her non-relationship with Canon Truax. Was she ever going to meet the man face to face? She turned back to Ember.

  “And speaking of evening, where were you at this time of night?” She didn’t add young lady, but she cringed at sounding like her mother—again.

  Ember pivoted on her butt and hugged her knees to her chest. “I went into Deer Cove, the town here at the lake.”

  “And something was open?”

  The girl tilted her head. “You don’t realize this is Friday night, do you? Well, technically Saturday morning now.” She jumped up and headed into the kitchen.

  “The show!” Skyy started to rise, but then sank back. She’d missed Night Thoughts. Jerry would be…well, not furious—she’d never seen the man really mad. But he hated how his voice sounded on air and refused to fill in the one time she’d asked. She massaged her temples, imagining him trying to do a whole hour.

  “Chill, girl. I covered it.” Ember popped open an orange soda from the fridge and took a long swallow. “Ah, just like the hot old days in Tucson.” She sank down by the fire again.

  “You did the show?” Skyy asked.

  Ember shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard after last time. But I had to find Wi-Fi. There isn’t any here at the house. Fortunately, DC Coffee’s was wide open.”

  “What did Jerry say?”

  The corner of Ember’s mouth curved up. “I may have inadvertently let everyone think you were there with me, like last time.” She tipped the soda can bottoms-up. “I mean if Jerry asks, which he probably won’t because the show went great. You’re welcome.”

  She crumpled the can, rose, and headed back to the kitchen. “I’m still thirsty. Want one?”

  Before Skyy could answer, Ember returned with two sodas.

  “Thanks,” Skyy said, taking the offered can.

  “Sure.”

  “I mean for the show, too. I owe you.” She popped open the can and sighed as the cold orange liquid soothed her throat. “Did you have a topic for tonight?”

  “New beginnings,” Ember said. “I asked if people had a chance to change things up and start new, what would they do. It was interesting.”

  “Did you get any calls?” Usually a topic like that generated a few phone calls in addition to the message board.

  “Some,” Ember said, but didn’t elaborate. “I should get a bicycle.”

  Skyy shook her head at the abrupt change of subject. “Why would you need a bike?”

  “To get to my job at Deer Cove Auto. I start Monday.”

  “Job? How did—?”

  “’Course if it’s raining, maybe I can borrow the Jeep again. Mark said he could fix it, by the way.”

  Skyy’s head was spinning now. Maybe it was a sugar rush from the soda on her empty stomach. “Did you get in an accident?”

  “Of course not,” Ember laughed. “I’m an excellent driver. But don’t you remember how cold it was when we were driving? He said the heater core is probably clogged.”

  The girl spun into a jumbled monologue about how Canon put a fan and portable heater in the Jeep to dry it out because it was soaked—she didn’t explain how it got wet—and how she also applied for some shifts at DC Coffee. Waitressing at a restaurant was way low on her list, but working with espresso machines sounded interesting. Bonus was, they had ice cream.

  “And while Mark’s a good mechanic, he’s lousy at answering the phone, record keeping, and following up on ordered parts and billing.” She looked at Skyy and shrugged. “His words, not mine. The first thing I plan to do is use the shop power washer to clean the seriously disgusting bathroom.” She shuddered.

  Skyy set her soda can aside and leaned back on the soft cushion while Ember rattled on about how nice Conrad Langworth at the coffee shop was, his yummy special creations, and the cute shops in town. The girl’s rapidly shifting topics taxed Skyy’s ability to keep up, but she was familiar with the emotional high that always came after a good Night Thoughts show. Plus, it was refreshing to hear about anything after days lying in bed.

  Ember was already putting down roots in the community, while Skyy had barely been out of the bedroom. There were other questions for which Skyy wanted answers. Where did Ember think they would live? And what was the absent Canon Truax like in person?

  But as curious as she was, her body had other ideas. When Ember’s manic energy finally drained away, the crackle of the fire filled the room with a hypnotic dance of light and sound. Skyy was too tired to ask anything except for help making the bed. Then she crawled between clean sheets.

  After Skyy crashed, Ember lay on her bed, staring at the white ceiling and listening to the crackling of the fireplace in the living room. It was nearly 3:00 in the morning. She should be exhausted.

  Tonight’s show focusing on new beginnings was more than an interesting topic, it was her personal new reality, her life. Which is why she picked it. And everything had gone really well—until that one phone call.

  K, the girl who called when they were still in Tucson, called again. And naturally it was the one time Skyy wasn’t there. When the girl began crying, saying she had to get out or she was going to die, Ember hadn’t known what to say or do.

  But right then the comments window flooded with message after message, page after page, all from one person: Creeper. They blinked away almost as fast as they came, but some lingered a few seconds, as if Big Jerry was deleting them manually. His automated scripts had failed.

  Knowing he’d be busy for a minute or tow, Ember quickly encouraged K to post her contact information, then moved on to the next caller. After K’s emotional confession, discussing the new caller’s weight loss goals felt decidedly mundane, but it had given her time to steady her heartbeat.

  Too bad her heart was now seeking a rematch when it should be snoozing. She kicked off her blanket and went out to the kitchen bar. The dimmed under-counter lights bathed the room in a warm glow. Outside, the storm raged, wind pressing against the windows and distorting their interior reflections.

  I’m in San Francisco. - K

  That and a phone number had been the girl’s message.

  Beyond the pulsing heat and fragrant smoke of the fireplace, Ember caught the occasional scent of wet pine that seeped in gaps around the doors and windows. San Francisco wasn’t that far north. Was K out in this tonight? Was she someplace safe?

  Ember shook her head. The girl was no doubt a prostitute with a pimp. Although she might finally be inside this time of night, there was no place really safe.

  The kitchen lights flared and dimmed, then returned to normal. Ember willed them to remain on, holding her breath and counting seconds. At thirty, she exhaled. Everything remained normal. Finding a flashlight and candles seemed like an excellent idea, so she began searching cupboards and drawers.

  After K’s first call in Tucson, Skyy mentioned she wished she could help the girl. Knowing that, didn’t Ember pretty much have to encourage K to post a message with her contact info? It’s what Skyy would have done. The message stream was private, so the public couldn’t see the entry. Big Jerry could, but he would have been busy with other things, not scanning every post. She hoped.

  I’m in San Francisco. - K

  When Ember called the number, she’d gotten a generic voicemail box. During subsequent songs, Ember called it twice again before braving to leave a message—with Skyy’s cell number and a rough description of where they were. But Skyy was such a private person, just remembering divulging that info had sweat breaking out on Ember’s upper lip again.

  By the time she finished the show and signed off, K hadn’t called back. And not long after that, a cell tower must have gone down, because Skyy’s phone connectivity
changed to No service.

  “Ah, ha,” Ember said, spotting a fat candle and long butane lighter on a shelf. As she reached for the items, the kitchen lights blinked out, and cold blackness blanketed her. She froze, eyes wide, straining for light. Eventually, yellow flickering from the living room fire seeped around the corner, and she retrieved the candle. The lighter flicked to life, its flame wobbling as she touched it to the wick and the candle took over. She nearly extinguished it as she let out her breath.

  The fire in the living room felt safer than the bedroom down the dark hallway. Too much like a horror movie. She settled on the sofa and wrapped herself in the throw. Again, she closed her eyes and listened to the rain being pushed sideways by the howling wind. The fire crackled a welcome counterpoint.

  K lived without this comfort. But San Francisco was only a couple hundred miles north. Perhaps there was hope after all, and a chance for a new beginning. For both of them.

  Chapter 19

  Skyy woke Sunday, her stomach finally requesting sustenance. At least she felt well enough to eat. The bedside lamp stayed dark when she turned the knob, and flipping the wall switch for the overhead had no effect. The power was off. Outside, the wind buffeted the cabin, howling around corners and whistling in cracks. She shivered and decided clothing was the first priority in the chilly room.

  Her fashion-forward attire consisted of sweats and thick wool socks. She cinched and re-tied the drawstring around her waist to keep the sweat bottoms up, her stomach closer to her spine than it had been in years. She headed to the kitchen in search of food.

  Instead, she found a note from Ember:

  Gone to Sunday service at the little chapel in town, then working a shift at DC Coffee until 4. Power is out at the house, but on in town. Canned soup in pantry. Lighter for the gas stove is by the knife rack. — Ember

  Skyy replaced the note. The girl had found two jobs and was attending church. Skyy hadn’t yet ventured out of the cabin.

  Her stomach growled enthusiastically at the promise of soup. She used the butane lighter and ignited a burner on the stove, the blue flame pushing back the gloom. While waiting for some canned soup to heat, she sank onto a bar stool and rested her chin in her palm.

  The rain was less intense, but swirling clouds surged across the ground in a misty gray blanket. The world could end just beyond the straight trunks of pine trees barely visible a few yards from the cabin, drop into an abyss like an episode of The Twilight Zone. She shuddered. Someone must have contact with the outside world. How could this place be so cut off?

  The paltry effort of eating the soup and a few saltines had her dragging toward the sofa. Instead, she forced herself to first add wood to the stove, gratified when yellow flames danced higher and higher.

  She wanted to keep her eyes open, wait for Ember’s return. While exploration wasn’t high on Skyy’s priority list at the moment, she envied the girl’s ability to get out and see things. Other than these few rooms and a glimpse outside, Skyy had no sense of direction or the surroundings. It was as if she’d been blindfolded and imprisoned in a remote cabin by an invisible kidnapper. She could be anywhere in the U.S.

  Stupid, but that didn’t make it less disconcerting. Her north-south bearings were scrambled.

  Cold radiated from the picture window above the sofa, so she tucked the soft throw around her shoulders and closed her eyes once again. Maybe this was God’s payback for badmouthing Tucson’s relentless sun.

  Chapter 20

  Monday afternoon, Skyy stood at the front window, wincing as menacing clouds once more raked through the tall pines out front and churned the lake water to roiling dark steel. She hoped the trees had good roots. The promised snow hadn’t arrived on Saturday or yesterday due to the moderating influence of the Pacific Ocean miles to the west. But, according to Ember, townspeople were holding hope for this afternoon and evening as a new front swooped down from Alaska.

  The cell service and electricity at the cabin had remained off for the entire weekend. She and Ember saved the refrigerated and frozen food by moving it into large ice chests they found in the laundry room and carrying them outside. When the power came back on an hour ago, Skyy transferred all the food back inside.

  That took all of ten minutes. Now, she was rapidly going stir-crazy. She scowled at the whitecaps. Feeling better had its disadvantages.

  Ember had taken the Jeep for her first day working at the auto repair shop. She also took Skyy’s cell phone in case service worked in town. The house phone was still dead and being cut off from the world had her out of sorts. Her world was online, and she wasn’t.

  “First world problems, Delaney,” she growled.

  At least it wasn’t raining, hadn’t been for a couple of hours, though the air was heavy. She paced to the back door and surveyed the carport. The only remaining vehicle, a four-wheel ATV nudged against the house’s rear wall, called to her. A set of keys with a Yamaha fob hung on a brass cup hook beside the door. The question was if it would start and remain running. Ember said Deer Cove wasn’t far. However, getting stranded and walking might be a stretch after being sick.

  Aware her indecision was burning the weak daylight, Skyy donned a couple more layers of clothing from her bag, then topped it off with a thick waterproof overcoat she found on a peg in the laundry room. The coat had man-sized gloves in the pockets, smelled of fresh air and pine, and covered her to mid-thigh. Her tennis shoes were a weak complement, as was the L.A. Dodgers baseball hat, also from the laundry room. They would have to do.

  The cold slapped her face as she stepped outside, but she ducked her head against the wind and checked out the ATV. It had a full tank of gas, an electric start button, and was similar to one a girl she knew as a teen in Florida. The girl’s brothers had a pair of ATVs, and she had invited Skyy out to their ranch to go exploring. It only happened once, but that was the most fun she had that year before they moved again.

  Skyy straddled the machine, gasping as her jeans hit the icy vinyl seat. The cold engine required some fiddling with the choke while cranking, but it soon roared to life and filled the carport with pungent exhaust. The wind cleared away the fumes.

  While the motor warmed up, Skyy tested the brake controls, the lights, and transmission settings. She twisted the throttle and eased the machine through a tight circle in the carport, passed her little teardrop trailer, then bounced up the rutted driveway. Mud flew behind when the tires spun on the slick spots, but she made it up to the main road. At least she thought it was the main road. It was paved, but only one lane wide. And now that she was here, she realized she didn’t know if Deer Cove was to the right or the left.

  On a whim—but mostly because a stiff wind was blowing from the left—she turned right and accelerated. As freezing as the air was against her bare face, it felt great to be moving. She passed a handful of driveways leading to cabins nestled in the trees, but there were no cars on the road. Good thing, because the ATV didn’t have a license plate and surely wasn’t street-legal.

  With each driveway she passed, the road narrowed, and after a winding three quarters of a mile or so, a pair of signs marked the end of the county-maintained road. Beyond the signs, asphalt transformed into gravel, the road ahead marked by two tracks where tires had compressed the soil so not even the weeds could break through. Vehicles were cautioned to proceed at their own risk. Deer Cove wasn’t this direction.

  Skyy made a U-turn and plowed into the stiff wind. She kept the ball cap as low as she could and still see the road, but the air stung her cheeks and reddened her nose. Regardless, it felt great to be outside, away from the confines of the cabin and bedroom.

  A mile or so after passing all the cabins, including Canon’s driveway, she passed a large barn on her right. The road widened here, and other roads led off to the right, but her eyes were watering and she didn’t look or stop.

  The swimming area that Ember told her about had a parking lot on the left. Deserted picnic tables, grills, and playground equ
ipment dotted a grassy area at the edge of the lake. A little farther past the beach, a white building marked the beginning of town. The sign out front said DC Coffee. While Skyy had only been riding a few minutes, she needed something hot right now! She turned across the road and parked the four-wheeler on a patch of grass near the store’s deserted patio. Her knees were stiff with cold as she climbed off.

  A bell over the door tinkled as she entered, and warm, coffee- and sugar-laden air washed over her. She breathed deeply and smiled, feeling truly alive for the first time in days. Coffee shops were familiar territory, and it was good to be back with the living.

  Only two of the tables were occupied, and the raised bar with its line of round stools was empty. Skyy spun onto one and faced the counter, rubbing her hands. An older man with stark-white hair, matching two-day stubble, and bright blue eyes approached her.

  “Nippy for an ATV ride.” He nodded toward the windows overlooking the Yamaha.

  “Sure is,” she said, “but I had to get out for a bit.”

  “Looks a lot like the Truax machine. Might I assume you are Skyy Delaney?”

  “And you must be Connie,” she said. “Ember told me about you.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ember, yes. She’s quite persuasive. I found myself offering her a job and thinking it was my idea all along. Almost gave her a raise before she left.”

  Skyy laughed.

  “Don’t tell her that,” Connie warned, “or she might own this place by the end of the week.”

  No wonder Ember liked this man right off. Interesting, too, that he knew Canon Truax well enough to recognize the ATV. She fought the compulsion to ask him about the cop.