Speaking of man’s best friend, are you a cat or dog person, if you had any pets at all?
For as long as I can remember we had a dog at the family house. We called him Buck because that’s what Dad loved to hunt in the fall. He happened to be dressing one when we first brought the dog home. Gosh, I recall the den being stuffed full of trophies Dad had claimed over the years. His pride and joy was a ten pointer that he had centered on the big wall. Mom absolutely loathed it in there, but he’d return the sentiment by saying her collection of blue China plates – having taken over the dining room – wasn’t any more attractive.
Anyway, Buck was a Collie mixed with what had to be a grizzly bear given his size, but despite his weight and loud bark he was basically a large, 100-pound baby on four legs. He did manage to keep the three of us kids in line for the most part. At least until we got older.
Julie, Max, and I liked to have a little bit of adventure to spice up the often bland country life. Some could easily argue too much for our own good. Elementary school is where we started, and we didn’t stop right up to my senior year at Seymour High…
That’s when Julie got too close to a wild boar one afternoon and Buck turned into a hero. Except he didn’t make it out unscathed like Julie did. He ended up more like Old Dan from my favorite book.
I… I don’t think I’d ever expected to see his insides spilling out all over the place.
Buck…
I hugged him tight. The whimpering is what got to me the most I think; the high-pitched pain soaking into my skin more than the wetness oozing between my fingers. I tried to keep more from falling out of him. I didn’t do a good job.
Jesus this memory is more vivid than I remember… I can even smell it.
His eyes though. God, those big, brown things stared right back up at me as if to say, “It’s okay, Daddy, I know you tried…” Then they sparkled for a second in the warming sun before closing. They didn’t open back up again.
Forgive me, but I’m going to need a few minutes…
Overhead, intense claps thunder sent waves of fear through Chance’s body. He looked around his woodland surroundings through haggard eyes, unable to see anything through the downpour. The noise was like great beasts whose hidden yet monstrous forms were locked away behind cages of bright, forked lightning.
Yet Chance felt far from safe. He could almost see monsters moving within the storm clouds. It had to be his imagination –shadows don’t watch people as they slosh their way aimlessly in the dark.
His feet were cold, so incredibly cold as water soaked through the many tears in his old shoes. The squelching of his footsteps in the muddy soil bordered on grotesque, while the once soft rain had hardened into wet shrapnel that stung the naked skin on his arms and face.
The thunder rolled as lightning cascaded from cloud to cloud, revealing the edges of a rustic cabin tucked in the woody overgrowth. The place was extremely uninviting, less a shelter and far more a predator.
Ah, I see that you’re still here.
I half expected my emotional tumble to run you off. Thank you for giving me some time to get over Buck’s memory. I knew as soon as we started talking about pets that some of those old feelings would come back. What I didn’t know is that they would hit me so hard in the gut. I’d say, given the level of effect, whatever we are doing is working.
Yet that’s not what you want to talk about right now, is it? You saw it too – that cabin? This is the first time I’ve seen it since you started reading, yet I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen it before, lurking just outside the edges of my memory. I don’t know what happened, but something went down in there. I wish I had the strength, but I can’t penetrate the walls to find out.
Look, I know that you’re probably starting to wonder if this is a good idea. Am I right? Dark and stormy nights with mysterious cabins in the woods would make anyone feel uncomfortable. Couple that with a talking book that keeps showing you images of such a place and you’d be well within your rights to take your leave. Pronto.
I’d be doing the same damn thing, but I’m also going to be the one to ask you not to. I know it’s very little comfort, but I feel we are so close. Does it scare you? I guarantee you not nearly as much as me.
I’m going to risk a look inside to see what I can find out. What we can find out.
Come with me? I think your willpower will help.
The stairs creaked as Chance climbed them, one by one until he was standing on the uneven porch. The walls ahead of him were worn and gray, and they swayed as if alive and breathing. His own breaths had faded, now distant and labored.
With sweat now mixing with the rain collected on his forehead, Chance took a step forward. His left leg shook at the knee before righting itself. The other one followed, shuffling his bent body toward the door.
A hand reached out, trembling. He grabbed hold of a rusty handle and pushed, opening the way into utter darkness.
Shit! Shit! Shit! I feel like the skin on the back of my neck is prickling.
We can’t stop though; I have to carry on. We’re so close.
Why the hell was I in that place to begin with?
Though black, Chance knew he was not alone. He could sense someone in the room ahead, and when the next flash of lightning came he was proven correct.
A knife edge glinted as it passed in front of several strands of long hair, churning as if underwater. Shrill screams cut through the damp air then yielded to silence.
Chance sat in the center of the room, breathing heavily above the body. There was a stickiness in his hands that could only be one thing given its warmth.
Blood. Fresh blood.
God. That was…No, surely I didn’t just…
I realize how all this is starting to look but I swear to you there’s more to it. There must be more…
I’m not a murderer…
You have no reason to continue listening to me and even fewer to trust me, but I promise you: I’m not a killer! I don’t even know who that is, at least I can’t remember. Deep inside, I think you know that I’m telling you the truth, since you’ve already gone above and beyond anyone before to help me out of this fucking book.
I could never hurt you…
In fact, over this short time I’m starting to like you. Your words and your presence have brought me comfort. If by some amazing stroke of luck we do manage to get me out of here, I would love to get to know you better. I think that it would help me come to terms with what is going on and how much time might have passed.
What year is it anyway?
Wow. That long, huh?
Well, again, if this is something you don’t want to do, I understand and appreciate all the help you’ve given me to this point.
chapter 3
You really are a champion!
Gosh, all these chances for you to go and you haven’t. Thank you, Superstar.
So, I’m guessing you won’t mind that little meet up after I get out of here? It’ll be like a first date except we’ll have already broken the ice.
Well, that look says it all. My assumption might have been a little presumptuous. Or quite a lot. So, instead of that, maybe you can tell me – hypothetically of course – what your idea of a romantic evening is?
That sounds very good. Almost as good as a big slice of pizza covered with bacon.
What? Oh, come on, everybody likes bacon! Even vegans; they used to love it when I would talk about it.
As far as romantic nights go, I like to keep things simple. More complications lead to more chances for things to go wrong.
There was this big field off French Broad River where I liked to go and set up a fire from time to time. Not a huge one, but enough for some light and warmth with a picnic blanket spread on the ground nearby. It was always cozy no matter the time of year, and almost guaranteed to bring on the camping cuddles. Barring that, moving the blanket into the bed of my trusty pickup was always a great fallback. Call me a country boy through and –
>
A knife edge glinted as it passed in front of several strands of long hair which were churning as if underwater.
“Die!” Chance shouted, his voice cracking.
The tip of the blade plunged into soft flesh, shrill screams cutting through the damp air before yielding to silence. The body fell with a limp thud, Chance collapsing to his knees in the center of the room before falling back onto his ass. Breathing heavily above the body, there was a wetness in his hands that could only be one thing given its warmth.
Blood. Fresh blood.
Looking across the room, he spied a book lying open on the messy floor. Its pages like brittle slivers of skin were without words, calling on him to read, or better yet write with the red ink now pooling in his upturned palms.
Oh God.
Victory…
I remember! I know what we have to do to get me out of here!
It’s –
You must –
The way out is –
Dammit, Superstar! Something is stopping me from telling you!
Think, Chance. Think…
Okay. Now I know that this entire time I’ve asked you to stay, and that it’s been key to unlocking the door to this prison I’m stuck in. Now, I need you to do the opposite and go…
I know! It’s starting to feel like a yo-yo, isn’t it? I’m sorry! I wish I could explain more, but as you saw something is stopping me. I can’t create the words on the page to tell you exactly what we need to. This is my best way around that hurdle.
Trust me, I have meant every single word I’ve said about you. You have done more for me than I can ever repay. I’ve learned to trust you. After all, you’ve stayed with me until now, helping me come this far in discovering the truth.
Now that it’s been laid out in front of me, I’m scared. Scared primarily of the unknown, but also assured that on the other side of it things will be fine! I’m dreading the fact I must ask you to go, to close the book, and… abandon me.
Nobody’s ever made it this far, but this step must happen if the manifestation is to reach the the point of cascade...
I can’t tell you any more than that. God, I want to so badly, but I can’t!
I… I need to know if you can and will help me this last time?
I knew I could count on you. Thank you! Yes! I can feel myself forming; my fingers are even wiggling. Haha! I have missed that!
Oh gosh… the tipping point of the cascade isn’t far now.
We’re doing it, Superstar, but… you’re still here! You need to go!
We’ve come to the most important part of any relationship. Trust...
I need you to trust that I am a good person, trust that you and I will not switch places in this infernal book, and trust me enough to stop reading right now.
Yes, you read that right!
I know that we both will end up not knowing what happened, but does that matter? Or does working together toward our future outweigh the mysteries of my past?
Think about it: we’ll be able to start this relationship for real – in the flesh – at least as friends if not more.
I know I was a creepy main character, and probably still am, but if you truly are one that can harbor both love and trust in your heart for me then please: do not finish this book.
Okay?
Gah!
My body feels like it’s on fire but it’s alright! I’ve reached the cascade and should continue manifesting until I’m back in the real world.
I’ll try my best not to freak you out and reform right there in your house. Maybe the bedroom closet? Behind you?
I’m joking, I’m joking! Down the street it is, okay? I don’t care about the weather or what time it is or that I’ll be without clothes.
I’ll be free, all thanks to you.
Here we go… there’s no turning back. No matter what happens now, I love you, Superstar!
Be sure to put the book down, okay?
Go! I’ll see you soon!
chapter 4
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
YOU PROMISED ME!
NOOOOO!
A 2011 Silverado slid into a free parking spot outside the South Ridge apartment complex on the outskirts of Knoxville, the driver’s fingers strumming the steering wheel as he looked anxiously through bug guts that had been baked onto the windshield.
Ahead of him was a line of squat, two-story buildings. They were mainly cream with burnt orange accents, a color he’d always found hideous. It reminded him of someone trying to make an orange creamsicle by taking a blowtorch to it. His eyes fell on a black sign adorning the building closest to him. It said APT 9 in plain block letters.
“Julie,” he muttered as he shut off the engine. “You better be home.”
Chance Wilcox stepped out of the truck and slammed the door. Looking around for his sister’s car, the fact it was gone didn’t give him much hope that she would be waiting inside. Sputtering, he slapped the hood before marching toward the door, his muscular frame covered by a tight tank top and pair of jeans that barely did their job in covering his assets. The soldier in him showed with every stride.
Having returned to town after a long overseas stint with the 101st Airborne Division out of Fort Campbell, he was looking forward to some down time with Julie – the only one of his immediate family members that he was close to.
Ever since their parents were killed (a drunk driver caused their car to fishtail on their return from Kentucky a couple of years ago) his younger brother Max – nearly the spitting image of Chance himself but a little beefier – became estranged and left after a large argument over how the estate was handled. He headed out west, not letting either sibling know where his destination was though Chance suspected he was in California or Oregon. To that day Max had dropped contact with them.
That’s why Chance found himself so bothered that afternoon; it felt like the time Max left all over again. Yet he knew his sister wasn’t one to let emails and texts go unanswered. The closer he got to her door, his mood grew more somber. It wasn’t helped by the overcast sky, which felt darker than usual even though the clocks hadn’t yet fallen back.
He paused, fist poised to smash against the glossy black wood. Before he knocked, Chance reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Unlocking it, he opened his text messages and looked at the last message he sent to Max.
MAX CALL ME, it said in all caps. JULIE IS MIA.
“Selfish prick,” he said, seeing that it was read but there wasn’t a reply. Returning the phone to his pocket he used his free hand to bang against the door.
“Julie!” he called. “It’s Chance. Open up if you’re there.”
He continued knocking for ten minutes though it seemed like an hour. There was no response.
“Where the hell are you, Sis?”
With a loud sigh Chance looked to the ground, spotting the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from the gap in the bottom of the door. Kneeling, he grabbed it with his fingers and pulled out a handwritten note. It was from her landlord.
“Julie,” the note said in neat, cursive writing. “Sweetie, your rent is overdue. I hope all is okay with you. It’s only been a couple of days, so please swing by the front office. We can talk about it and work something out.”
It was signed by a Mrs. Janet Easley, who Chance decided to visit next. As he made his way back toward his truck, his hands started to shake mildly. Julie was a very Type-A person. Competitive, incredibly organized, ambitious, and highly aware of when bills were due. There was no way she would have that slip her attention, especially something as important as the rent.
After a short drive, Chance pulled up at the main offices of the apartment complex, only to find them closed for the day. BACK AT EIGHT A.M. a line of impersonally-typed print informed him.
“Shit,” he snarled, trying his best to stay calm. The beating in his chest urged him otherwise.
Chance didn’t know it, but Janet had left early that day so she could take her daughter to a dan
ce recital, and as the universe would play things out, there was nobody else available to work the desk. So, she had no choice but to close up shop and leave.
Not that Chance wanted to speak with anyone other than Mrs. Easley anyway. She had left the note and therefore she was the one he wanted to speak to. Sitting in the cab, he turned down Randy Travis on the radio (If I Didn’t Have You was playing) and thought about what he was going to do next.
Short of breaking down the door – something a man of his size could do with little effort – Chance scrolled through his list of contacts both on his phone and social media for options. One name caught his attention more than any of the others.
***
“Evan?” Chance asked the thin guy who pulled up in a sedan that had seen better days.
“Yeah,” the man answered. His accent was Irish. “I’m Evan. You must be Chance.”
“Bingo. I’m Julie’s brother.”
“Julie’s huge brother,” Evan replied, awe mixed in with fear. “You’re a lot bigger in person than the pictures she has suggest.”
“I’ll take that as a complement, man. Remind me to pay you back for that later. However, right now I have a more pressing matter. Did you bring your key to Julie’s place like we discussed?”
Evan nodded and turned off the ignition, removing a single key from the ring. He tossed it to Chance.
“Thanks buddy,” Chance replied, making his way for her front door one more time now that he was better equipped.
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