by Shawn Sarles
Was it sadness? Or love? Jennifer couldn’t tell. He held the bear’s gaze for a moment, and then its jaws came down and crushed his throat. He didn’t move after that.
Jennifer watched as the bear plopped down on top of its master and began eating. She didn’t even realize she’d stopped ringing the bell. Bambi started in on the man’s stump of an arm, then the train shuddered as it rounded a bend.
The bear lost its balance. It teetered on the lip of the open door. And then the train shook again and Bambi toppled over, taking the man with her as she tumbled out of the car.
Jennifer gasped. She opened the cage and rushed out, just in time to see the bear land. It rolled on the ground, the man’s lifeless body spinning around it like a towel in the dryer. It came to a quick stop and lay there, unmoving as the train chugged away. Just as she was about to travel out of sight, Jennifer saw the bear lift its head. She saw it take stock of its surroundings, and then it grabbed the man in its teeth and dragged him into the forest.
SEVEN
“JENNIFER SURVIVED THAT NIGHT,” JULIE SAID as the fire flickered and sent eerie shadows dancing across her face. “But she wasn’t the only survivor.”
Maddie leaned in to get a better look at her. She didn’t want to miss a single word.
“Bambi survived, too.” Julie paused and glanced around the circle. “A few days later a park ranger came across the ravaged remains of a man. His fingers were gone, and both legs had been gnawed through.
“Only, it wasn’t the ringmaster’s body. And it wasn’t just any woods.” She paused again. Maddie had to give it to her aunt—she knew how to tell a damn creepy story. “No. They found the body right here in these mountains. Seems that Bambi never did get over the taste of human flesh. And still hasn’t.”
A roar suddenly filled the night and Maddie jumped, almost falling off her log. She turned her head and saw her uncle Ed laughing his head off, his finger pointed toward Mark, who had fallen on the ground and spilled his beer all over his shirt in the process.
“Wow, Julie,” Ed belched, his laughter finally cutting off. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”
Julie rolled her eyes, then raised her wine cooler to her lips to take a sip.
“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Mark had recovered himself and looked genuinely proud of her.
“Remember whose wife you’re talking about,” Ed growled.
“Why don’t you two grow up,” Julie huffed. She tilted her head back and finished off her wine cooler. “When I get back, you better be ready to behave.”
And with that warning, Julie stomped her way out of the campfire’s circle of light.
“Wow, I didn’t know your aunt was such a badass,” Chelsea whispered to Maddie.
“She usually isn’t.” Maddie didn’t know what had come over Aunt Julie, but she liked it. And wanted to see more of it in the future. “Another s’more?”
“Duh,” Chelsea deadpanned. “I’ll never say no to toasted sugar.”
The girls got up and walked over to rummage through the bag of treats but found only an empty marshmallow bag.
“That sucks.” Maddie frowned.
“Here. I grabbed another bag.”
The girls jumped as Julie appeared behind them. She handed them a fresh bag of marshmallows and then popped open her second wine cooler.
“Thanks.” Maddie could have hugged her aunt. “And great story. How’d you come up with that?”
“Oh, you know.…”
Julie’s smile faded. Maddie followed her gaze and saw her uncle and Mark talking again. It didn’t look pretty. Uncle Ed had a problem with his temper when sober, more so when he had a few beers swishing around in his gut.
“These days, the news can be scarier than Stephen King,” Maddie’s aunt finished half-heartedly, clearly distracted. “Excuse me, girls.”
And with that, Julie made her way around the fire to try and defuse her husband yet again.
“What’d she mean by that?” Chelsea asked. She ripped a corner off the bag of marshmallows and popped two in her mouth.
“Hey, save some for the rest of us.” Maddie snatched the bag away from her friend and tore into a marshmallow of her own.
All of a sudden a shout came from the campfire, answered a moment later by an even louder voice.
“I can’t deal with that.” Maddie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Wanna walk?”
“As long as we can take these bad boys with us.”
“I don’t think anyone will miss them.” Maddie gave Chelsea a sneaky look and held out the bag of marshmallows. The girls scooped up their flashlights and headed into the woods, away from camp and Ed’s raised voice.
They didn’t say much as they walked. Their flashlight beams danced in front of them, illuminating odd strips of the forest. It looked so different at night, dark and impenetrable. What secrets did it hide? Someone could be watching them and they’d never know. A chill tickled its way up Maddie’s spine, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from darting to every tree trunk they passed.
“Do you think that’s what our moms were like?” Chelsea asked out of the blue.
Maddie pulled her eyes around and looked at her best friend.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Ed.” Chelsea’s lips thinned to that serious face Maddie knew well. “Or, like… any of them.”
She trailed off and Maddie let her think.
“Do you ever wonder what our moms were really like?” Chelsea asked. “I don’t have that many, like, concrete memories of mine. And my dad only ever has good stories to share when I ask about her. But that’s not realistic. Our moms might be dead, but they weren’t saints. What if—”
“What if what?”
Maddie tried to ease the worry on her best friend’s face.
“What if”—Chelsea took a moment, steeling herself—“What if my mom wasn’t who I think she was? What if she was a nightmare, like Ed? What if she was shrill or short-tempered? An alcoholic? What if she had an affair? Or daydreamed about leaving us behind and starting a new life? But then she got sick and—and she couldn’t go through with it.”
Maddie stopped walking and looked at Chelsea with real care. She loved this about her best friend, that they could talk about silly stuff like boys and what dresses they should wear to prom, but then also turn around and have truly serious conversations. That they could bring up their own doubts and insecurities and have someone there as a therapist. But also more than that, as a best friend who understood, who had experienced the same kind of devastating loss.
It was astonishing how a tragedy could make an entire school forget someone’s most embarrassing moment. Almost as astonishing as when Maddie had woken up in the hospital those five years ago to find her worst enemy’s beady eyes staring down at her.
Of course, Chelsea’s eyes hadn’t been beady. But back then Maddie had seen the devil in the girl. Good thing Chelsea had left her mean-girl days behind her, because in reality, her eyes had been giant and distressed and swimming with tears. Comforting and understanding. A friend when Maddie had needed one most.
Apparently, Chelsea’s mom had died of cancer the year before, and she wasn’t afraid to spell it all out for Maddie right there in the hospital room.
“Like it or not, you’re stuck with me. We’re sisters now. Maybe not by blood or even by choice. But tragedy chose us. It took our mothers from us, and now we have a bond that no one and nothing can break.”
She’d reached across the hospital bed then and held out her pinkie.
“Sisters for life.”
And what could Maddie do but hook her finger with the girl’s? However unsure she’d been that day, it’d turned out to be the best thing that had happened to her. She’d never forget how Chelsea had breezed into her life, how she’d made her feel welcome and not alone. Chelsea had been right. They were sisters, and nothing could tear them apart. They’d always be there for each other, no matter what.
“Chelsea, wher
e’s this coming from?” Maddie asked.
“I don’t know.” Chelsea didn’t meet Maddie’s gaze. “I guess I’ve been thinking it for a while but haven’t really known how to say it. I just see all these other adults in real life and in movies and books, and they’re all so complicated. They’re good and bad and it’s all mixed up inside them.”
Maddie cocked her eyebrow, confused.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that all these other adults I see—your aunt Julie and Mark and even your uncle Ed—they all have depth. Whereas all I have to remember my mom is a one-dimensional picture. She was a good mother who loved me very much, but who died too soon of a terrible disease.
“There’s got to be more, but no one will tell me. Did she have a rock’n’roll streak growing up? Or did she ever dream of running away to Hollywood to become an actress? Or even simple things, like how did she and my dad first meet? Did she know he was the one at first sight?
“I’m tired of hearing about the cookie-cutter saint that my mother was.” Chelsea was winding down, her voice losing its sharp edge. “I want to know about her flaws, too. But I think my dad’s afraid those stories would make me love her less.”
Maddie let Chelsea’s words simmer. Then, in a quiet voice, she told her best friend about her own mother.
“I don’t remember a ton about my mom, either. But I do remember she worked a lot. She missed most of my cross-country meets. One time she completely forgot to pick me up from a friend’s house, and my dad was out of town with Charlie that weekend, so I ended up staying the night, using my finger as a toothbrush and borrowing my friend’s clothes to wear the next day. It didn’t even bother me that much. I was used to it. But the pitiful look my friend’s mom gave me—that’s when I knew it wasn’t normal. It was something for me to be ashamed of.
“But the thing is,” Maddie’s voice grew brighter as she remembered the over-the-top birthday parties her mom would throw her and the movie nights they’d have twice a month, just the two of them, boys quarantined upstairs. “She did try. Sure, she worked a lot. But she worked because she had to. She wanted to launch her business, to follow her dreams, to provide for me and my brother and my dad so that we could be comfortable and happy. And we were… until—”
A tear trickled down Maddie’s cheek. She remembered how she’d broken down at her twelfth birthday party, the knife shaking from her hand and splatting into the cake. Even with flecks of frosting dotting her cheeks, she’d only been able to think of her mother. All the birthdays to come without her. Maddie had bolted out of their backyard, eyes streaming, and run wherever her feet would take her. It was only when Charlie had shown up in the park—climbing to the top of the playground fort—that she’d lifted her head and realized where she was. She’d looked at him, and he’d known exactly what to do. He’d taken a seat next to her, and they’d sat quietly together, only getting up to go home when the sun had set completely.
Maddie moved to wipe her tears away, but Chelsea beat her to it.
“My mom wasn’t perfect,” Maddie sniffed. “But she loved me in her own way. If you want to know everything about your mom, you’ve got to push your dad for more stories. Look through old photo albums. See if she kept a diary. There’s got to be something.
“And never forget that our moms were more than just good. They were brave. And fearless. And full of love. They were badasses. Who else would we have inherited those traits from?”
A smile flitted back to Chelsea’s lips.
“You always know just what to say.” She pulled Maddie in for a hug and squeezed her tight. “Thank you.”
They hugged for a good minute, letting their tears dry.
“God, I really picked a weird place for a heart-to-heart,” Chelsea said as she released her best friend.
Maddie giggled. She couldn’t help it.
“Yeah. It’s a bit creepy.” Then a wicked idea struck her. She didn’t know where it even came from. “Want to make it even creepier?”
Chelsea’s eyes narrowed, her black pupils reflecting the light from their flashlights.
“How?”
Maddie reached out and grabbed Chelsea’s flashlight.
“You’re not afraid of Bambi, are you?”
She switched the flashlight off and then turned off her own, plunging the girls into darkness. A surprised squeal erupted from Chelsea. Maddie clapped her hand over the girl’s mouth and everything went quiet. They stood there together and let the night swallow them whole.
Around them the forest slept, breathing in and out smoothly, an altogether different rhythm from that afternoon. Gone were the chirping crickets and cawing birds, the skittish rabbits and scurrying squirrels. The wind even seemed to have tucked in for the night. Not a tree branch stirred above them. Maddie looked up, peeking through the canopy of dark leaves. She spotted a few stars twinkling through the branches, the full moon looking down at her with its bright, waxen face. She closed her eyes and breathed in the night, letting its stillness overwhelm her.
Then she heard a hoot. An owl on the prowl. Her ears perked up as she listened for more. She heard a rustle of leaves, far away, then the bone-snap of a twig, a firecracker in the quiet night. Her eyes flew open. Her heart beat faster in her chest. She strained to see through the forest, to peer around the solid tree trunks surrounding them.
Another crack shot through the woods, and Maddie jumped. All of a sudden she could feel the forest’s nightmares moving around her, pressing in. A path of goose bumps scurried up her arms. She heard something else—a jingle?
It couldn’t be. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. She tried to calm down. She shook her shoulders out and closed her eyes, listening intently.
A few seconds passed and nothing. Another minute, and still nothing. She started to relax. Then she heard it again, the softest tinkle of metal. Her eyes sprang open and she flicked on her flashlight.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Chelsea sounded just as creeped out as Maddie, but she didn’t seem panicked.
“I think I’m losing it.” Maddie swung her flashlight beam around. “I could have sworn I heard—”
A rustle of leaves caught their attention. Maddie spun around with her flashlight. There was another rustle and then a bush started moving. Maddie’s arm wobbled with nerves, the flashlight beam trembling in response. A figure emerged from the trees. Chelsea screamed, and Maddie drew back her arm, ready to chuck Chelsea’s flashlight at their attacker.
“What the hell?” Abigail shouted. She squinted as Maddie’s flashlight tried to blind her. “Can you get that thing out of my face?”
“Sorry,” Maddie sputtered, embarrassed by how frightened she’d been only three seconds ago. She lowered her arm. It might have been the first time she’d ever been relieved to see Abigail. “You scared us.”
“What, you think I was some kind of big bad bear out to eat you?” Abigail smirked. “You can’t honestly think that story was true. What babies.”
“No.” Maddie bristled, but she didn’t have any better comeback. “What are you doing out here on your own, anyways? Smoking again?”
“No.” Abigail made a face. But it wasn’t a bad guess. The girl’s hair had fallen out of its ponytail and red circles splotched her sweaty face. Her lips were a bright cherry red and swollen. Even if she wasn’t high, she definitely looked out of sorts.
“Well then, what were you doing out there?” Maddie pressed.
“I was peeing.” Abigail seethed. “Happy? I can’t just go anywhere when someone could be watching. We’re not all savages like you.”
Maddie didn’t buy it, but she let it go. Maybe Abigail had had too many beers. That’d explain the pee, at least. And her complexion.
“Let’s just get back to camp,” Maddie said, uneasy, her earlier courage gone. “It’s spooky out here.”
Chelsea and Abigail agreed, and the three girls made their way back to camp together. Maddie still didn’t feel right, though,
and kept shooting glances over her shoulder as they went.
Finally they got back to camp. Chelsea and Abigail broke away and joined the others around the fire, but Maddie held back. Apparently Mark and Ed’s argument had died down and the group was ready for another story.
“I’ll tell the next one.” Maddie heard her brother’s voice carry from the campfire. “Sit down, sit down. I think you’re all gonna like it.”
She took one last look over her shoulder, but didn’t see anything. She turned away from the forest and walked over to the campfire. She sat down next to Chelsea and waited for Charlie to begin.
“It was a dark and stormy night.…”
Everyone groaned, but Charlie quickly hushed them and restarted.
“It was a dark and stormy night at the old hospital.…”
Lightning flashed and rain lashed relentlessly against the windows, but Nicholas didn’t bat an eye as he rolled a hospital bed down the hall. He stopped and pushed the button to call the elevator. He started to whistle, a cheery tune, the one he’d heard playing on the radio when he and the new nurse intern had taken the time to get to know each other in the backseat of his car.
His pitch went sharp as he remembered Sadie. Her keen hazel eyes. The deep purple of her lips. It’d looked so unnatural, that color, like she’d just drunk a whole bottle of red wine. But the color was real, inherited from her mother and her mother’s mother, and made her all the more alluring. He could have sat there in the backseat of his car for hours sucking on those plum lips of hers, but then the first drops of rain had fallen, bombs loosed from the heavens, their fat bottoms exploding with dull thunks. Sadie had jumped away and stared at him as if waking from a dream. Then she’d bolted, scurrying up the drive and disappearing back into the hospital.