Straightening her back, she swiveled her legs forward, turning towards his friends. Raising her brow, she added in mock disbelief, “The archangel?”
“Tony Gabriel,” Owen corrected. “All around bad influence.”
“Real nasty drunk, that one. Thinks he's going make Noah the next Hannah Montana.”
“That I’d like to see,” Aly teased. She nudged Noah's tensed elbow, hoping he’d loosen up. “Real, real nasty drunk. Drove him all the way to Anchorage,” Luke repeated, gouging her response. She politely ignored Owen's stare, and dismissed the comment.
“Happy belated birthday,” she answered simply, bursting a concrete silence. “So, you move to the middle of nowhere, and instead of vampires, you get Noah Locklear.” Luke’s words brimmed with hints of a motive. He sounded like a deranged teacher excited over the cruelty of a pop quiz.
Owen tossed him a bag. She watched as Luke split the plastic, loudly crunching on the snack.
“How are you coping, Alyson?” Owen joked. She elevated her hands in surrender, a testimony to innocence.
“I don't know anything about that. You're talking to the Tamagachi generation.” “My God,” Luke gasped, his mouth full, head leaning back to shake a fistful of trail mix across his tongue. He leapt from the log, his outstretched arm pointing dramatically. “This girl. This girl is amazing. Seriously, marry me?”
“Paws off, Young. Aly here’s respectable.” “Hey now, I'm just saying. If Noah won’t-”
“Knock it off,” Noah sighed.
“I might,” Luke snickered.
“Young, don’t be sick,” Owen chastised. Amusement cracked the faux-serious tones in his voice. Luke wiggled his eyebrows, dimples peaking as he pretended to zip his lips shut. With a flick of his wrist, an imaginary key was sent blindly flying into the shadows of a tightly knit tree canopy.
As she released a smile, Noah’s posture relaxed. Their giggles were throaty but boyish, piercing the night's muteness. Aly gave in, Noah eventually joining, the mirth virally contagious.
Owen crossed his arms, covering his eyes weeping with laughter. He leaned backwards, rocking with a guffaw. Veins ripped across the muscles of his forearms as he tried steadying himself. Failing to catch the fall, he toppled into scattered pine needles.
Luke crossed his arms over his chest, falling backwards, crying out, “I regret nothing!”
Aly blinked away images of her mother, cold and blue, as the lid closed her into the darkness.
She doesn’t have to be everywhere. Stop thinking about it.
“You okay?” Noah asked. She realized her shoulders had hunched. Blinking away a daze, she forced the corners of her lips to curve upwards. She nodded, her gaze locked on the trees.
~
Day faded from the sky, leaving a periwinkle residue where the sun dropped below the horizon. As the sky darkened, a crackling fire was the only light in the forest’s pool of black. Between the heat radiating from Noah’s side and the close lick of flames, the night’s unseasonable chill was hardly a menace.
She flinched as a popping knock drew her attention to the trees. She expected Owen or Luke to come running from the shadows laughing, having disappeared again without notice. Instead, they sat across from her, looking confused and alarmed. Noah’s brow furrowed as he stared at them. She assumed he had the same inclination.
The knocks continued, increasingly louder, like someone was throwing boulders at a tree. A sudden silence was quickly pierced with a whooping screech, like an owl. As the boys traded confused stares, Noah shook his head.
“Can’t be.” “No way. No way, no way!” Owen repeated, his eyes scanning the coniferous silhouettes. His head cocked as he listened harder, like a trained house dog investigating noise.
“Yes, yes!” Luke whispered excitedly, back arching and hand cupped over his ear. A series of foreign howls answered.
Aly shifted with anxiety. “Those are coyotes. It’s getting dark.”
“They’re different though. Listen. Shh,” Luke shushed, face tensing.
“No way,” Owen repeated. “Seriously?”
Aly glanced up, offering a questioning stare. Noah explained hesitantly, “They think it’s the wood beast.” She frowned, trying to summon the mental image of the monkey-like totem pole. Seeing her concern, he added, “Because they’re idiots.”
“Hey now, don’t hate,” Luke insisted, listening for a second whoop. “It’s the Gigit, man.” “The what?” Aly asked, pulling her hoodie closer around her. The sound continued, and seemed to summon quiet. It was difficult not to hear, like something big was in pain.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Luke demanded, waving his han ds as though he was directing traffic. “You are Greg Glass’s daughter, and you don’t know what the Gigit is?”
“My father and I are not exactly close.” She sighed, ignoring the hackles along her spine. She spoke clearly and firm, setting straight a record too warped for her own comprehension.
“Noah would know all about parental issues,” Luke added. “A real ballbuster that one.”
“What’s the guy-geet?”
“The Gigit… like Omah-” Owen began.
“Bigfoot,” Noah chimed. She laughed, cheered on by another round of howling coyotes. “Sasquatch, hmm?” They grinned, pleased with themselves. “I’m not really getting the Greg reference, but that’s priceless.” She applauded, forcing the discomfort of the noise away, out of her head.
“She’s joking, right?” Luke asked, turning to Owen and Noah for an explanation.
“My father’s a biologist.”
“Researcher,” Owen corrected, suspiciously. “A biologist,” she repeated, adding, “Not exactly an anthropological-phenomena buff. He sent me a pamphlet about the area for Christmas when I was seven, but I think that’s the extent of his cultural interest. I can’t imagine he’s all that into legends. He pleads science like it’s an amendment.”
Noah bit his lip. Owen and Luke blinked, chuckling nervously, unsure how to gage her seriousness.
What am I missing here? A thunderous crack sent Owen and Luke to their feet, alarmed. Noah tensed, gently placing a concerned hand on the small of her back.
“Like you said, it’s getting late.” Noah’s eyes moved between Aly, his friends, and the forest’s shifty profiles.
“We should leave,” Owen agreed, nodding emphatically with Luke who was silent for the first time since Aly met him. She observed as Owen dumped water on the fire and stomped out the embers, bending his leg backward to inspect his sneakers for melted rubber. Flicking on flashlights and gathering their bags hurriedly, Owen and Luke scrambled, looking increasingly nervous.
Where Noah’s hand had rested on her back he began to trace small circles. She resisted the urge to let her eyes flutter shut; tingles sparked the skin beneath the clothes he touched.
When Noah stood, she was reluctant to move, as though her stillness would convince him to sit again. As the howls started again, she shivered. Accepting his offered hand, Aly followed as the others tore down the trail.
“Bizarre,” she murmured, waiting until Luke and Owen had disappeared around a corner. They ran ahead for the quads like a tsunami was about to lap at their ankles.
They say the waters come slow. “Welcome to Ashland,” Noah laughed. Th e stress and fear of the situation immediately dissipated. She smiled, her shoulders relaxing as he continued, “So what's your theory?”
“My theory?” She was unsure how to answer. “Is that Luke suffers from Napoleon syndrome.”
“Evil,” he considered, “but justified.” “You see it?” Aly teased, leaning against his arm. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. She felt herself mirroring his body language.
It occurred to her the posture wasn’t in her physical vocabulary, and suddenly felt unnatural. Aly eased her fingers out of the pockets of her boot cuts, locking her fists into her elbows, hugging herself.
“I do,” Noah agreed. “They're awful aren't they? Possibly
the worst way to convince a pretty girl to stick around.” She found herself holding her breath again, and slowly exhaled. He smiled to himself, watching her reaction as carefully as she searched his. She let her hair fall across her face, breaking eye contact. Shifting, she forced to shoulders slacken beneath the scrutiny.
I’m being such a freak. “Not awful,” she corrected. Staring at her wringing fingers, she was unsure how to calm the flutter in her chest. Aly smiled, braving a glance at his eyes.
He squinted across the horizon as they walked, his grin fading in distant thought. Her gaze traveled the hem along his shoulder, realizing his jacket would have been unseasonable in a Kingsley summer. Even if to escape the plague of black flies, he'd seem peculiar amongst crowds of bare skin and swim shorts. It was unheard of to avoid the lake beaches in June. The water was cherished until tourists invaded midJuly.
A dimple quirked, preceding his growing smile before twisting to an unreadable expression.
Pushing up his sleeve, he scratched at his wrist. She caught a flash of ink. With her fingers outstretched, she traced the curling image of a snake, while pretending not to notice his shiver.
“Is this what Owen was talking about?” Aly asked, endlessly curious. She hoped that removed from the previous conversation, he wouldn’t be so quick to unnerve. The nagging thought was irresistible.
“Yeah,” he said, tugging on the fabric to expose the tattoo. Twisting his wrist, he scrutinized the work like it was a recent discovery. “In a lot of cultures, the snake represents regeneration and revival. Shedding the skin… It’s supposed to be the end of an existence and the beginning of another, in the middle of your life. It’s not the prettiest thing in the world. I don’t think rebirth is supposed to be, though.”
“It’s beautiful,” Aly whispered. The style was tribal, but not native in an Alaskanindigenous sense. She couldn’t place an origin, only noticing it was more fierce than cartoonish, certainly not grotesque. She didn’t understand what he was thinking. Grinning, she added, “Much more manly than the apron.”
He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Pulling her close, he planted a playful kiss on the head. She bit her lip, unable to disguise her smile.
Okay, try not to die. He watched her for a moment before becoming lost in thought, his thumb tracing the serpent. After a while, she realized he was considering the afternoon’s events.
“He's a good guy – Tony. He and his wife used to do foster care and stuff before she died. I mean, he drinks, but everyone does. That's Ashland,” Noah said, finally. “He's the most lighthearted drinker in town though, strange… goofy, I guess. Not so depressing and sloppy. When my sister, Sarah, was a toddler, he actually saved her from a rip current. You'd think he'd be a hero or something the way the locals talk. People don't get him, but he's cool.”
“Why don't they like him, then?” Aly mused, tucking a curl behind her ear.
“They're judgmental. What are you going to do?” Releasing a sigh, he bit his lip, shifting his gaze to her again. Noting that it was rhetorical, Aly stayed silent as he watched her. They shared a snicker when they reached the lean-to, finding the other quads gone. He unlocked a chain from the key-start and ignited the engine.
Taking his hand, Aly was more than happy to join him.
CHAPTER 6 | NOAH
“Should we be worried about Luke and Owen?” Aly asked for the third time. When they got to the parking lot the guys were nowhere in sight, but neither were the ATVs, Luke’s mom’s jeep, or Owen’s sedan – nicknamed ‘Junker’. Noah laughed it off.
Young and Hunt mocked the elders and the culture with their chest puffed out and their chins in the air, but the moment they got spooked the legends were their first conclusion. He knew they took it as seriously as their parents and ancestors did. Or, if not so religiously, they were certainly skittish enough to freak at the concept.
Noah had never found Lee or any of his comrades particularly convincing. He was much less inclined to join in with their hysterics.
I’m kind of pissed they scared her, though. Noah had tried to reassure Aly, but he knew it bothered her. When his friends had something in their head deep enough to believe it themselves, their panic switch was so dramatic it became persuasive.
“Aly, I’m more than sure they’re fine. They get hyped up over the legends around here. The funny thing is, most of the stories don't even belong to this area. They drift from town to town.”
“It’s a beautiful culture,” she finally said. An endearing appreciation took the worry from her voice. She stared at the trees, only glancing at him when they spoke. As he drove her home, he found himself slowing down the closer they got. He wasn’t ready to say goodnight. He was too conscious of her place by his side, of her smooth hand in his palm. Hyperaware of the blood moving through his fingers, he couldn’t help but notice whenever she twitched, or trembled.
As Noah forced himself to watch the road, he scanned for animals in the thick brush. Gaze locked twelve minutes ahead and behind the vehicle, he kept one hand atten o’clock on the wheel.
Aly, in her untouchable silence, was a screaming blind spot after nearly spinning out of control on the trails. Owen had him paranoid he’d get the poor girl killed. He had paid too much attention to her knees pressing against his sides and the palms flat against his ribs. With her fingers clutching his chest, he wondered if she felt the wild beats below his sternum.
As the headlights lit up the sign labeling Thorne Avenue, he shoved away the thought of circling the block or pretending to run the turn. Hesitantly letting go of her to cross over the corner, he was unable to gather the courage to replace his hand. After a moment, she tucked her hands beneath her knees, crossing her ankles as they approached her drive.
He needed to know when he’d see her again. “The culture, huh?” he murmured, stealing a peek at her. She shifted in her seat to face him, a smile on her face. “You know those tracks I was talking to you about, and the paintings? If you’re up for it, maybe tomorrow I could drive you up there. I’ll ask around and get more info on the legends.” Unable to hide his grin, Noah playfully added, “Unless you’re scared, of course.”
"Of course not. Sounds perfect," Aly agreed, sounding pleased.
After unbuckling, she elbowed out of his coat, a loan he offered after watching her shiver while he fastened the ATV to the trailer.
She folded it in half and slid it over the dash, whispering thanks for the afternoon, the ride, and the jacket. He wanted to say something besides ‘you’re welcome’ – anything to keep her in the truck, to continue the conversation, to apologize for his friends, for making her sad about her mom, for getting her scared of the woods. Something to get inside her head and figure out what it was that made it work.
Someone so quiet has to be screaming inside.
“I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he promised, feeling pathetic. Aly thanked him again, smiling as she gently waved goodbye and slipped onto the path winding towards the tiny porch. As she approached, a light stirred, flooding the yard. She waited by the door, knocking and ringing the bell. He grew anxious, afraid he pulled into the wrong place.
She moved in yesterday. Would she even notice? Oh, hell. They waited a few moments more. She stood on the tips of her toes, peering into the tiny window above the peep hole. It remained dark. She turned and covered her eyes, peering into the darkness. He flashed the headlights and her frame shook with a breath of relief. Aly raised her arms questioningly, shrugging in spite of her nervous expression. Unsure whether or not she could see him, he beckoned her back to the truck. After a moment she spirited towards him, opening the door and leaning in to speak.
“He’s not home yet,” she sighed, glancing back at the empty house. “He never gave me a key.”
“We’ll go get a drink or something. There’s a little shop on my way back.”
“Are you sure? I could just call my dad and wait on the steps.”
“Yeah, I am. You seem surprised,” he l
aughed.
“I just… You knew exactly what to do. I’m kind of… totally frazzled,” she confessed, following his motion for her to sit down. Noah twisted the stereo up as he backed onto the street, pulling up the hill to turn around. When he could risk a glance, he watched her fingers tapped to the music. Most people heard the drums. She felt the bass.
It’s kind of perfect. The parking lot to the Seaside Minimart was deserted, lights flickering over the pumps like cracked spotlights. He parked away from the dumpsters, unconcerned with the walk towards the building. Ashland was in the middle-of-nowhere, and even the gas station was too far of a commute for the local drunks to roam. Aside from the occasional bear sighting, there wasn’t much danger in the shadows.
Aly sat on the curb. He assumed she was texting the doctor. With a wave of permission, Noah braved the too-bright florescent to burn through the last of his dwindling paycheck on coffee. She nodded happily when he told her the contents, unaware he remembered her request for cream and sweetener from that morning. For whatever reason, it didn’t bother him letting her think he’d made a lucky guess.
“So what’s your plan, Aly Glass?” Noah asked, taking a seat beside her. While he was inside, she had migrated from the edge of the sidewalk to a space against the concrete wall. His elbows balanced loosely on his knees, while she seemed to curl around the steam released from the cup’s lid.
“Are we good for tomorrow?” she replied through her hair, staring at the sky. He felt her take a deep breath as he pulled a lock behind her ear, exposing her hidden face. She glanced through her eyelashes, waiting for an answer. He bit his lip, staring at hers.
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