by Abigail Boyd
“Uh-huh.” I store the phone in my back pocket.
He pulls out his keys and gestures for me to follow him. “C’mon, let’s go.”
It takes ten minutes to get to the right building. People are driving like idiots because of the rain and traffic is backed up. I was expecting a modest car, maybe a truck, but when we went into the parking garage, he led me over to a yellow mustang.
As we’re sitting at a red light, he looks over at me, resting his hand on the bottom of the wheel. “Do you have a car or do you just walk to work?”
I shake my head. “I never got my license. I was in between schools when driver’s training was offered. And I’m such a terrible driver that I figured it was safer if I stayed out from behind the wheel.”
“So how have you been so many places?”
“Bus tickets. Airplane tickets. It ends up being cheaper sometimes,” I explain. “I’ve hitched a few rides cross country, but that’s not always a good idea, especially for a girl my age. Some people think that if they give you a ride, it means your vagina is included as a bonus gift.”
He tips his head back and laugh. I watch the way his eyes crinkle and smile myself.
There is an empty parking space in front of the building when we get there. James runs up and tries the front door, to no avail. All the windows on the lower level are boarded up, and a “for lease” sign is nailed to the exterior wall.
He steps back and looks up at the building’s face. I move to the side, where I find a slim alley, and see the bottom of a fire escape just above my head. I call for James and then crouch, jumping up and catching the bottom of the fire escape.
He comes back around just in time to see me dangling in the air. “Need some help?” he asks, but just as he’s getting close, I bring the fire escape back down to the ground. We spend the next few minutes trampling up the rickety wire structure, until we reach the top.
I step to the ledge, admiring the view of the city. The rain has stopped and the sun is trying to come out, and I catch a pale rainbow. I point it out to James and he leans next to me.
“I need to get going soon,” he says, and I sense his impatience. “Not to mention it’s possible someone might see us trespassing. Let’s look around and get out of here.”
We search around the rooftop, but other than a few pipes and a locked door to the inside of the building, we don’t see anything. I search one side of the wall, and then stop. There is a huge, sooty black mark discoloring the stone.
“Look at this,” I say, calling James over. As he’s investigating the mark, I bend down, seeing something shiny on the ground.
“What’s that?” he asks.
I put the object in my palm and turn it over. It’s a silver button shaped like a skull. “Somebody lost a button.”
James and I catch each other’s eye. I don’t know what these details mean, but something strange is going on.
James drops me off at home, apologizing for cutting the night short. He repeats again that he’s going to see a friend, and I wonder if that friend is a girl. I push the thought away and trudge back up to my apartment. Quinn is working tonight, but I’ve had enough of being alone.
I get dressed quickly in a fresh pair of jeans and a tank top, and in ten minutes I’m walking to the Longhorn. The sun has set, but the evening is cool, and the rain has freshened the air. I’m enjoying my walk, when suddenly I have the strongest sense that someone is following me.
Watching me.
I stop walking and turn around, scanning the street behind me. There are a few people out strolling and walking their dogs, but all of them are minding their own business. No one acknowledges that I’m even there.
A big, black bug flies past me, distracting me. At first I don’t know what it is, but as I turn my head, I see that it’s a moth. I don’t usually see many bugs other than flies in the city. I study it as it makes another circle around my head. It’s the size of the palm of my hand, its slim, lacy wings flapping delicately. I’m mesmerized as I watch black dust fall from its wings. I follow it for a few seconds, fumbling for my phone to take a picture, but the moth flies up past the closest building and disappears.
I wait for a moment to see if it will return, but it’s gone. I don’t feel like I’m being watched anymore, either, and I hurry on my way to the Longhorn just in case the feeling comes back.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I DANCE FOR a while upstairs, trying to lose myself in the music. My head is full of thoughts, each one tumbling over the next, and all I want is to get away from them. But every time I think I’m there, James face floats to me behind my eyelids. It gets too hard to keep him out of my head. I’m thirsty by now, anyway, so I head down the stairs for a drink.
Matt isn’t working tonight, and as I wait for the friendly older woman to get my Coke, I see that the bar isn’t very busy. A group of friends is playing pool in the far corner, keeping their conversation to themselves. A man dressed in black jeans and a shirt with white and black patches stands in front of one of the TVs with a beer in his hand. He’s in his mid-twenties and ruggedly good-looking. I thanked the woman for my Coke as it arrived and sipped at the straw as I swiveled on the bar stool.
“Amazing, you can see so clearly on these things,” I heard the man say as a hockey team shot a puck across the ice.
I stepped off the bar stool and walked towards him. “Haven’t you ever watched anything in HD before?”
He tilts his head in my direction, his smile friendly and yet somehow guarded. “Of course. It just blows my mind every time.”
He’s handsome in a scruffy kind of way, his dark blond hair sticking up in small spikes, his body muscular although compact, like he makes up for his height with time in the gym. A blond five o’clock shadow covers his chin. Not bad looking at all, but I can’t help but compare him to James.
He sticks the hand not clutching the beer out for me to shake, which I do. “Hi, I’m Leo.”
“Remy.”
He points back up at the screen. “They let you buy these in any TV store?”
He has to be pulling my leg, I think. No one under thirty can be this behind the times. “Are you Amish or something? Yes, you can get them in any electronics store.”
My Amish quip, which wasn’t even really funny, makes him crack up. He takes a big swig of his beer and heads for the bar. I take my seat back up where I was.
“I was just teasing you,” he says. “You should watch being so gullible.” He comes closer and sets his beer down on one of the nearby tables. “So, I just arrived in the city and I’ve been checking out places. Have you ever been here before? How does it stack up?”
“It’s fairly decent,” I report. “My friend and I usually end up here most weekends, since they have some of the cheapest drink specials. The crowd is usually pretty varied too, and there aren’t many assholes.” I push my hair back behind my shoulders. “Where did you move from?”
“I’m from a little city upstate. A little place called Haven. I just thought I’d come to the city to seek my fortune.” He waves his arms around dramatically. I get the feeling he’s been in community theater or something, there’s something very theatrical about his demeanor.
He takes a seat beside me at the bar and to pass the time I chat with him. It’s a dead night tonight, and the bartender ends up joining us, telling us a ghost story about the house she grew up in. She heard scratching in the walls when she was younger, and then found out that an old woman had died in the very bedroom she slept in every night.
“I didn’t get another wink of good sleep until we moved out of that house,” she finishes.
I usually stay away from these kinds of stories, but I don’t know whether it’s the rain or today’s mystery, tonight I’m in the mood to listen.
“I’ve got a good story,” Leo pipes up, breaking off the shells of some peanuts. “It’s not really about ghosts, but it’s scary nonetheless.”
The bartender and I wait for him to continue, listeni
ng to the popping of the shells.
“There’s a river by where I grew up,” he begins, and turns to me. “In Amish country—”
I force my lips to smile. He seems nice enough, but I feel absolutely no chemistry with him. This is usually the deal, but it’s such a contrast to what I’ve felt with James that it’s leaving me frustrated.
“The the locals all say that there’s something strange about it. They see shapes and faces forming in the liquid, and hear voices calling from inside it. Some think that it’s possessed by demons.”
I can picture this river inside my head, the water churning and bubbling darkly from some unnatural force. I swallow thickly and feel my skin growing chilly.
Leo rubs the scruff on his chin and continues, “There have been many people lost in the river, never to be seen again. Anyone who drinks from the water is poisoned, and it’s not a slow death. It takes over their entire body, destroying it from the inside. And even though the town officials know about it, the river is still there, still performing its black magic.”
The bartender steps back and shudders dramatically. “Well, I won’t be getting any sleep tonight, thanks. You blew my shitty ghost right out of the water…so to speak.”
Leo grins at her and takes a sip from his bottle. “You’re welcome.”
He turns towards me and smiles, rubbing his chin again. He holds his stare for just a moment too long, and I feel the muscles of my shoulders tensing up. My head is starting to feel fuzzy, like it’s filled with wads of cotton. I feel another panic attack was coming on, but as I blink slowly, all the colors seem to be muting out.
A calm, almost euphoric feeling washes over me as Leo starts to speak again. “Do you like it here in Ocela, Remy?” he asks, not looking at me anymore. I didn’t realize how soothing his voice was before, but now it sounds as lovely as church bells. He pops another peanut open and tosses the shell on the ground.
“Yes,” I answer, feeling like I’m floating over my seat.
“But there can’t be much for a person like you here. You shouldn’t be chained down to one place.”
“I think that sometimes,” I murmur dreamily and rest my chin on the palm of my hand. “But I like my job and my friends. And I met this guy recently that I’m really attracted to. I told him I just want to be friends, but I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“It’s a mistake to let your heart get carried away,” Leo lectures, breaking open another peanut. The sound is so loud that I jump, but the fogginess takes over again.
Deep inside my head, alarm bells begin to ring faintly. But I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I stare into Leo’s eyes again, such a strange yellowish shade of green, and let the waves of calm wash over me.
“Are you sure you should be spending time with him? What’s his name?” Leo pries in that same pacifying tone. He leans forward so that our conversation takes on an even greater intimacy, and the alarm bells ring stronger now.
“I don’t know,” I say as I begin to fight the strange feeling invading my brain. I need to get out of here, to get away from this man. I stand up from the stool on shaky, unsure legs. His hand shoots out and he grabs my forearm tightly, hurting me. I look up at him, trying to pull away, but I’m still not lucid enough.
“Tell me.”
“That’s none of your business.” I have to force my lips to form the words, because right now every thought in my head seems like his business. He’s doing something to me, I tell myself. This feeling is him. He withdraws his hand and his furious expression melts into a harmless smile so fast that I wonder if I imagined his personality change.
“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry for prying,” he says, standing up. “I just wondered if you had a boyfriend. That was my clumsy way of asking you out.”
I feel so confused that I barely know where I am. I press my fingertips against my forehead, trying to get my bearings. The bartender woman who had been sitting with us is all the way on the other side of the room. I take a few steps and feel like I’m going to fall, but I know I need to get out of this bar. Something is definitely not right.
I make for the door, but Leo follows me, and a chill of cold fear cuts through my dizzy, disoriented thinking. He tries to reach for my arm, but I pull it away.
He comes around and opens the door for me, then stands beside it. “You’re not going to remember a fucking thing in the morning. Not a thing.”
I push him away again, rushing out into the night. The next thing I know I’m in a cab, pulling up to the curb in front of my apartment building. I don’t remember what just happened, just that there was a guy named Leo who was telling ghost stories at the bar. Everything after that is a blank.
“Are you okay, Miss?” the cab driver asks with a faint accent, staring at me in the rear view mirror.
“I’m fine. I guess I finally had too much to drink.”
I knew that wasn’t right, but I couldn’t think of any other reason. And my head is pounding too hard to make very coherent thoughts. The more I try to remember, the more my head throbs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN I WAKE up the next day, my headache is as strong as ever. I can feel it all the way down to the back of my skull as I struggle to get into my clothes. I didn’t sleep well last night, despite taking the last few aspirin that were in my purse. When I did sleep, I dreamed of a churning, black river, the current moving fast, hands reaching up from the poisoned water. I rub my eyes and stumble to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I rummage through the little bottles of pills, but I don’t have any more aspirin. Rubbing my temples, I groan.
I grind through my workday, dealing with a higher number of custom orders and complaints than I’m used to.
“Don’t forget to smile, Remy,” Russell calls casually from behind the register, and I barely resist the urge to give him the finger.
Quinn stares at me when she comes in for her shift, then does a double take as I creep past her. She grabs me lightly by the shoulders and turns me around so she can inspect me. And I’m guessing by her shocked expression that I look like I was run over by a car that was courteous enough to back up and run over me again.
“Are my eyes going bad or are you legitimately hungover?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
I avert my eyes to stare down at my shoes. “It feels like it. The thing is, I don’t really remember much about last night.”
“That’s usually how it is. Welcome to my world.”
“What I mean is, I don’t remember drinking very much,” I say, following her as she ties her hair up into a bun. “Best as I can recall, I had two cocktails and a few sips of a Coke and that’s it.”
“Do you think someone slipped you a roofie? You didn’t go home with some strange guy did you?”
“Well, there was a strange guy, but he was really nice. And the bartender was right there the whole time.”
I have the strong feeling that the guy—his name is Leo, I remember—wouldn’t have done anything. My last memory of him is of sitting at the bar, and I know he didn’t follow me out. Still, the harder I try to remember, the more the claws of this pain dig into my temples.
By the time I get out of work, the unforgiving sun reflecting off the pavement makes it impossible to handle the pain. I walk to the 24 hour pharmacy across the street from my building, every step making me wince.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, scrolling my thumb across the screen.
It’s from James. My heart skips a beat as I tap the icon and the message opens.
U gonna be home soon?
I hesitate in front of the pharmacy, wondering how I should word my reply. I’m omw right now, just stopping at store across the street. Why?
I found something interesting, power co outage map, figured u’d wanna check it out
K b there in 10
I’m too focused on procuring aspirin to care much right now about seeing him, although I know that’s going to change soon. I sprint into the store, b
lessing the air conditioning, as my temples continue to pulse along with my heartbeat.
I snag a bottle of aspirin in the painkillers aisle, rip off the foil top, and swallow two pills dry. I lean back against the shelves and hope and pray that the label is accurate, because this headache needs to die. I now know the meaning of a migraine and I will never, ever use the term lightly again.
Relief washes over me as the pain starts to abate. I grab some snacks, since I know I don’t have anything edible at home and I don’t feel like ordering takeout.
A cold chill rushes down my spine, and I see something black fly past my face. I squint and see that it’s another of those moths I saw last night. I’m closer to it now, close enough to make out the swirling, dark gray patterns on its black wings. I reach out, feeling the urge to touch it, when it jerks up in the air and disappears over the top of the aisle.
I hear footsteps and turn to my right. A man has stepped out and is just standing there, blocking the way. It only takes a second to recognize him—he’s the goth guy who has been harassing me up at work with his girlfriend. He stares down his pointed nose at me, his greasy black hair hanging like a long curtain on either side of his narrow face. His hands are crossed together below his waist, and he’s glaring at me. I try to think of something to say as I take a few steps to my right, but no words come.
My instincts immediately tell me to run, that he has bad things on his mind. I turn around swiftly, but I see that his girlfriend is blocking the other side of the aisle. She grins at me underneath her negative halo of frizzy black hair.
I whip my head back and forth, seeing how trapped I am. Tess and Tag, I remember their unusual names now from their driver’s licenses. Tag starts stalking towards me, his long legs making quick strides. His girlfriend does the same.
“What do you want?” I ask, but of course they don’t say a word. I do a quick mental calculation and decide that I’ll had an easier time dodging past Tess. I have no idea what they have planned, but they are up to no good, and I have no desire to be their next game.