by Dela
“Why can’t you just drive your own stupid car?”
Bri’s annoyance with me over the past couple of weeks was finally erupting, and I took full responsibility. My headaches were constant, I complained whenever I wasn’t being a jerk, and I was spooked to death that I would be chased again, or maybe even black out while I was driving. Bottom line, I didn’t want to be alone. I was upset that Lucas had left. I needed him, and while I thought of him often, I also thought of the vomit-inducing book that continued to collect dust on my desk.
“I told you, I can’t drive because of my migraines,” I lied.
Bri pinched her lips and remained silent. I wondered how much longer I could hitch rides with her.
“After the party,” she said.
“What?”
“After the Halloween party—you know, big shindig, costumes, punch, keeps the students from driving drunk?—after that, I’m done. Your car is perfectly good to drive, and you obviously are perfectly fine too. I’m not buying your crap. You have until Halloween to figure your mess out and make your life normal again. This carpool thing is not good for our relationship.”
I looked out the window, feeling ghostly as the blood left my head. “Okay.”
When I woke on Halloween morning two weeks later, I knew something wasn’t right. The hair on my arms stood up. A new headache began midmorning and then, at lunch—just my luck—nausea joined the party. I took medicine for the headache and tried to shrug the nerves away, but the sickness was relentless. The bad feeling that came when Lucas left, which never went away no matter what I did, now grew exponentially.
Going out that night made me feel doomed. I didn’t feel human. My fingers were cold and unresponsive, and it took nearly two hours to get ready. I stared at the crimson silk dress Bri had brought for me and clutched at a lurching feeling in my stomach. I kept its contents down long enough to tug and squeeze and suck into that silk.
Spicy fumes made their way into my room. My stomach grumbled payback for boycotting food all day, but I ignored it, even though my mouth watered desperately. I looked into the mirror, emotionless, vaguely seeing the historical dress encasing me. The corset was tight, not only pushing my breasts up but also making it hard to breathe, and I fell into a daze. An irksome voice rose from the depths, where my worst fear resided: so this is what I will look like when I die.
A noise scratched in the air. It vibrated over and over until I finally recognized Bri’s voice downstairs.
“Zara, you up there?” Bri called again.
My eyes strained on my reflection as I choked out a feeble response. “I’m here.”
“Hurry. It’s a good forty-minute drive.”
A new shiver went down my spine as I hiked my skirt out of the way and sent my body downstairs to what felt like my funeral.
It was dark in the house except for the mini lights wrapped around the banisters, which sent clusters of orange and purple light ricocheting across the stairs.
Bri fretted at her cakey face in the mirror. Most of her hair was pulled up smoothly into a bun, leaving tight curls falling down to frame her face. Her pale yellow dress had much more intricate detail than mine, with bone-colored buttons and white lace edging the sleeves and corset. And by the look of her bulging breasts, I could tell it wasn’t her seamstress but Bri who decided to make the corset extra tight.
“Really, Bri?” I asked, briefly comparing our chests.
She looked down at the round pudginess below her chin and shrugged innocently. “What?”
“Remind me why we all decided to dress as Sleepy Hollow characters.”
“The girls chose and the boys just did what we said. You would know if you’d get your head out of the clouds and listen for a change.”
I rolled my eyes to the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Farther down the road, Bri turned on the radio. Her singing was like screeching in my ears. Later, when she started squealing the high notes, I shut off the radio.
“Hey, I was listening to that.”
“No, you were killing it. Bri, come on, you can’t sing,” I said, looking at the speedometer as she entered the freeway. “Slow down!”
It wasn’t just the speed that coiled my fear. My stomach cramped when I realized that we were past the city lights, and tall, black trees now surrounded us. I hugged my arms snugly around my belly and wheezed.
Bri looked at me strangely. “I’m only going five over the speed limit.”
“Well, you’re freaking me out.”
Her foot let off the gas. “Happy?”
“Thank you.”
Bri kept her face forward and didn’t say a word the rest of the drive. I didn’t mind. I kept my eyes on the dark trees. She exited the El Dorado Freeway and joined a train of headlights snaking toward a canyon. The party was in a barn in an abandoned pasture between Angora Lake and Echo Lake. The deeper Bri drove into the canyon, the more my sickness built up and my breathing became shallow.
“We’re here,” Bri said. The brake lights of the car in front of us glowed red on her face as she coasted to the shoulder.
I felt clammy. I rubbed my palms on my dress and squirmed in my seat. Feeling panicked, I turned to look at the narrow, tree-lined road that led to the barn. It was nearly black under the trees. The sick worry in my stomach grew into a stabbing sensation as my corset’s deathly grip suddenly pinched out every ounce of air I had. I have to go in there? I started fanning my face with my hand, feeling hotter by the second.
“Can you breathe in that thing?” I squeaked.
“What are you doing? It’s fifty degrees outside.” Bri sounded annoyed. She reached into her backseat, grabbed a paper, and starting fanning me. “Get a hold of yourself; you’re embarrassing, for crying out loud. And yes, I can breathe in this thing.”
She hopped out of the car and leaned back in, her breasts threatening to fall out of her dress. “You’ve been all weird ever since Lucas left. Whatever creepy fetish you two have with each other is between you two. I prefer to remain normal.” She straightened up and looked around.
I hauled myself out and shot back, “You aren’t normal, and I don’t have a fetish.”
A draft of mountain air frosted my breath, and I reached for my jacket.
“What are you doing?” Bri hissed. She ran around the car with a repulsed expression and snatched it away.
“What? I’m cold.”
I reached for it, but she tossed it into the car. “These dresses are not supposed to be covered up by jackets.”
I ignored her and grabbed it. As I slipped it on, Bri turned and waved to the arriving cars. Boys in strange costumes leaned out of windows, cheap beers in hand, shouting random words to people standing around—like us. This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be here. Bri was bobbing up and down, her hands clapping rapidly together. “College is so much better than high school,” she crowed. “Ooh, there’s Jett. Let’s go catch up.”
He was in a crowd of kids heading down the small trail. Stretchy white fabric clung to his calves.
“Are you wearing tights?” Bri laughed as we came up behind him.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Who the hell chose Sleepy Hollow? Worst idea ever.” His hand moved to his tight leggings and began shifting parts around.
“Gross.” I gagged.
“Where’s Tommy?” Bri asked.
Jett pointed up the line. “Up there with Hayden and Ashley. They wouldn’t wait for me.” Another shift. “Man, my crotch is killing me.”
Bri chirped, did that weird clapping thing again where her hands flapped like a hummingbird, and ran ahead.
“If I’m going to be walking with you, leave your crotch out of it,” I said.
Jett laughed, glancing down. “What’s wrong with my crotch?”
I rolled my eyes. “You talk like it’s your baby.”
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“Good point. So, I’ve been writing some new songs.”
“Oh yeah?”
“My EP is doing pretty good. I’ve been getting pressure to start an album.”
“From who?”
“I thought you were following me on YouTube,” he said, surprised.
“I haven’t really had time,” I said, feeling that the forked fingers of the black branches threatened to reach forward and snatch me. I edged closer to Jett.
He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and stared at the dirt. “A couple of my songs have gone viral. Someone pretty big I guess saw me and wanted to see more.”
“So are you going to do it?”
He laughed. “It’s not like that, Zara. You don’t just make an album with no intention of pursuing that career.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
We took a few more steps toward a dark covered bridge. Slivers of moonlight hit its roof through the trees. Eyeing just how dark it was inside, I stepped on the heel of the person in front of us as I maneuvered myself between Jett and another schoolmate. I looped my hand over the crook of Jett’s elbow and leaned my cheek close to his shoulder. As I set foot on the first plank I squinted.
“What’s with you, Zara?” Jett asked, squeezing back.
Out of nowhere, amid the rush of water in the stream below and the others’ talking, I heard a deep chant, a whispering tune that seemed to echo in the wind.
“Do you hear that?” I asked.
He raised his chin enough to look around. “Hear what?”
Fear spread through me, and the corset pinched my organs as I squeezed Jett’s arm harder. I closed my eyes and let him lead me across the bridge. When the sound beneath my feet changed to dirt crunching, I opened them and relaxed. We were descending into the open meadow. There was the barn, barely visible through the unmown grass. It was lit festively with vibrant lights, and as we got closer, I saw that it was two stories high. The large front door was cracked open, and light escaped through it into the night as a thick beam.
“Don’t leave me tonight,” I said.
Jett’s hand overlapped mine. “I won’t.”
A stream of colors welcomed us as we followed the kids inside. The barn had a dance floor with live music, colorful spotlights, and cheerful swaths of streamers. The single room was huge. I had to crane my neck to see the ceiling.
Bri and Tommy poked through the crowd, holding hands.
“Zara, Jett!” Bri called.
Tommy dropped a shoulder and leaned into Jett. “Are you good, for later?”
“Good for what?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” Jett responded.
“They’re going to play a prank,” Bri said.
“Guys, no,” I said frantically. They looked confused. “I mean . . . the dean is here. What if you got caught?”
“Zara, come on, it’s just a fun joke.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing ever is with you guys. You’ll take it too far,” I argued.
Tommy looked to Jett. “Jett, take care of her.”
“Excuse me?” I said, taking a step closer to Tommy.
Jett stepped between us. “Zara, go get a drink with Bri, and by the time you’re done, I’ll be back.”
“Back? Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I’m just stepping out for a minute.”
“Don’t go alone,” I asked.
I felt Bri’s hands slip around my shoulders. “Come on, Zara. It’ll be quick.”
Yes, it would be quick. As Bri pushed me along, all I could think of was how quickly those demons almost had me.
“I’m not going alone,” Jett assured me.
I shrugged Bri’s hands away and looked him square in the eye. “You have two minutes.”
I watched as Tommy disappeared to the back of the barn while Jett exited through the front. Then I walked to the punch bowls with Bri while she rambled on about some sort of lipstick. After she poured our drinks and began talking with someone in her English class, I snuck out a side door and searched for Jett. I could hear the rest of the boys giggling near the back, but Jett I saw up the hill, standing in the overgrown grass. He was far away, and there wasn’t a soul around him.
I felt the anger rising. He was farther than I thought he’d go, and he hadn’t taken the road. I went after him, to catch him before he reached the bridge’s darkness. If those demons came after me, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after him too.
“Jett!” I shouted. “Come back!”
Finally, after a long drifting moment of despair, he turned. He began to walk toward me, looking confused, shouting words with his hands that shooed me away, but my heavy breaths drowned out his voice. I looked back, mentally calculating my distance from the barn. I was a lot farther than I liked, but Jett and I could make it back in a couple minutes if he was willing to run hard.
“Run,” I yelled, but he didn’t.
I waved my hands frantically, desperate for him to come faster, but my shoulders were confined so tightly in the silk that it hurt. Then it occurred to me that Jett couldn’t hear me.
I watched angrily as he walked back, taking his time. I was nearly at a run now.
“Jett, run!” I screamed, feeling the hairs on my skin rise as a hushed whispering grew out of the wind’s soft rustle.
I looked around, my knees going weak with the feeling that the demons were here. But the night’s ravenous darkness was too deep for clarity, and between my skirt and the grass up to my knees, I couldn’t see where I was stepping. Just as I twisted my ankle on a hidden rock, a blackish figure stepped out of the bridge and into the moonlight. I froze, and as my legs went numb, it transformed into a ridged cloud and sped after Jett.
Before I could stop myself, I kicked my heels off. I waved, hollering at Jett as I raced toward him.
“Jett! Behind you, RUN!”
I didn’t know what Jett saw in me, but when he finally looked behind him, he turned back to me in a run-for-your-life sprint. Pure horror covered his face.
I ran toward him. “Jett, hurry!”
The tall blades cut my arms as I pushed through. Jett chanced a look back and tripped, falling out of sight in the deep grass. The demon submerged itself in the pasture, and another form of panic struck me as a trail of blades swayed, nearing Jett. At the place where he’d fallen, the grass went still. Then there was a bloodcurdling scream.
My tear ducts burst. I froze, half-numb. My mouth gaped open, creating endless puffs of frosted carbon dioxide. The gasping dried my throat until an excruciating cough formed deep in my lungs. I choked, trying to keep my attention on the location of Jett’s scream.
Through the brittle wetness in my eyes, which were nearly frozen in the cold mountain air, I stared, horrified, at the patch of grass shaking unnaturally from side to side. Jett’s screams suddenly subsided, and the trail of rustling grass moved back to the bridge. A second later, his body slid out onto the open road in front of the bridge. The demon pulled him swiftly across the patch of packed dirt by one leg. Jett’s other leg kicked through the air, his fingers fighting for purchase in the dirt, but it was no use. His body went grayer in the shadow, and he looked at me, pale and aghast. My stomach sank to my feet. My cheeks were wet and cold, and I couldn’t breathe.
“ZARA!” he screamed as his fingertips disappeared into the bridge’s darkness.
I sprinted toward the bridge. Tears blurred my eyes, and I wiped them as best I could without stopping. Sharp points of pain cut through my feet as pebbles found places to embed themselves in my skin. The stinging brought still more tears.
I stopped abruptly where the grass ended, staring across the patch of dirt to the bridge. I could hear the whispering growing stronger inside the black arch, beckoning me to enter. It was nearly impossible to stop the heaving that almost made me vom
it. I ran a palm over my forehead while I swore to myself. Jett was dead because of me . . . I knew it. I wiped my eyes, looked back at the barn one last time, and sniffled. There was no going back.
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins, giving me new strength. I saw everything so clearly now. It was these creatures that had chained me down the past weeks, making me afraid to do anything. I was sick of it, sick of running.
My first step onto the packed earth was difficult, like kissing death. My shredded feet stung like a whip’s lash with each step. But I could feel my fingers tingle as the shadows called me in, their voices growing louder with each step I took. As I approached the bridge, shaking, I felt the chains from the past few weeks lifting. This was the end.
When I entered the bridge, I didn’t expect the whispers to stop suddenly, leaving only the noise of the stream. I waited, confused.
“Jett?” I called softly.
Nothing.
I took another cautious step, then another. I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling as the flaky wood squeaked beneath my steps. “Jett?”
His moan came from the other side of the bridge. He was curled into a ball on the wood floor.
“Ouch,” he moaned.
“Jett!”
I knew I would be stupid to go farther in, but I couldn’t leave him. I ran toward his crumpled body. I had only gone a few steps when a flash of black struck and a form appeared, blocking my way to Jett.
Even in the murkiness of the bridge, I could see his shift from smoky wisp to a very pale human. I sensed a delirious anger when he snickered. But something about his human form seemed off, as though he had once been muscular but was now weak and thin, but not undead like the others I had seen. His light skin was dirty, like he had rolled on the forest floor. Twigs stuck out of his filthy blond hair, and he was barefoot and shirtless. The only thing covering him was a torn piece of fabric around his lower waist. I looked up into his eyes. They were like black diamonds, glaring at me in a frenzy, but I studied him, wondering why he looked so familiar.
“Let him go. He’s hurt,” I pleaded.
The dirty thing didn’t speak; he held his hand out to me and twisted it. He smiled, and my body flipped over, first my head slamming against the planks and then my belly. I tried to sit up, but everything spun, and I dropped down to the bridge’s damp floor. Warm fluid oozed down my temple toward my cheek. I tasted blood.