by David Wood
The words his little sister used bothered him. What she'd said so far was awful, but surely her mind had exaggerated things. As bad as Mother had been to talk to, she hadn’t been possessed or anything. Taylor’s worries were likely a reaction to their disapproval of her sexual orientation.
Speaking of disapproval, he thought as his headlights swept across a street sign reading ELMWOOD WAY, if they catch her out with me she’s going to get in a world of trouble. Me too. I better get her home.
“That sounds weird, no doubt about that. Tomorrow I’m going to talk to Mom and Dad both. We’ll get this situation figured out, one way or another. Okay.”
Taylor nodded, then shrugged her shoulders. “If you say so.”
“I do. Now I better get you back.”
“You're taking me home?” The skin between her eyes wrinkled. “Already? Why? What did I do wrong?”
He brought the Jeep to a stop in the middle of the dark country road and turned to face her. “You didn't do anything wrong. This isn't a punishment. It's just that it's getting late, and if Mom and Dad haven't found out that you slipped away, they will soon. The last thing either of us needs is them getting all in an uproar or calling the cops.”
He let off the brake and continued their drive, but Taylor crossed her arms and glared forward. “I don't want to go back there, Kyle. Didn't you hear what I said? It's goddam scary in that house. Something is wrong with them.”
“Mom seemed off, yeah,” he replied, trying to calm her down, “but don't you think you're exagger-”
“Don't you do that! Don't put this off as some stupid girl shit! You don't live in that house! You don't know!”
He knew that everything she said she believed, that to her none of it was exaggeration. And, with everything he had he wished he could believe her, because then he could whisk her off and never have to worry about the consequences. But he didn't live in a world where he could do that. In his world people didn't get possessed or replaced by aliens. In his world people had to follow the law, had to do what was right, even if it sucked ass doing it. If Taylor wasn't strong enough to realize that, he'd have to be strong enough for the both of them.
“I don't like making you do what you don't want to do, believe me, but if we want to have a chance of making this situation better, we have to be careful, and we have to handle it the right way.”
She laughed, the burst of sound anything but joyful. “Oh, right, sure. 'The right way.' There's nothing right about any of this. Stick around long enough, and you'll see that too.”
He dimmed the lights as they rolled to a stop two homes from their parents' house. “I'm going to stick around. We'll see this through. I promise.”
Taylor’s fingers held her arms in a white-knuckled grip as she stared forward. He watched her nostrils flare, wondering what he could say that would help, but after a moment she opened her door and slid out.
“Yeah,” she said without turning around. “We'll see. Thanks for nothing.”
She closed the Jeep's door, careful not to slam it even though she was angry, and jogged off into the night. The shadows of the surrounding houses and the trees that bordered them quickly swallowed her up, removing all trace of her as though she'd never existed.
“Well that went well,” Kyle said to himself. “Good job, dumb ass. Real good job.”
Kyle put the Jeep back into drive and rolled on, scratching his head and wondering how he could have handled it better. The drive back to the motel felt like it took forever as a million better word choices poured through his brain.
Taylor ground her teeth together as she walked past the Nichols house, her feet trampling through mud patches in loud plops. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. After weeks of dealing with her parents' gradual slide into total freakdom, her brother had finally arrived to make it all better. But instead of listening to her and understanding just how strange things were, he'd blown her off like some kid crying wolf. How could he do that? How could he not get it? Frustration rolled through her chest like a ball of flame, making her blood boil.
As she rounded the Nichols place her parents’ house slid out of the darkness, the front door and driveway lit by a scarcely functional streetlamp. The back of the house where her bedroom was located was lost in shadows. She'd snuck out of her room lots of times, though, so she knew exactly where to go even though she could barely see.
Beneath her window, standing amid a riot of daylilies and begonias, were two gnarly cement garden gnomes. She'd picked them up the year before at a small craft shop halfway between Stillwater and Williamson, and over the course of several weeks she'd painted them to look like little gnomy vampires named Drago and The Count. As an ironic touch she'd even glued plastic rhinestones to their faces and hands so they glittered when the sun hit them. At first they'd been meant as whimsical touches to decorate the flower garden she tended beneath her window – she loved the smell of them in the spring when the rain and sun drove them into a frenzy of growth – but it hadn't take long for her to figure out they also made for great step stools. All she had to do was make sure not to leave any tell-tale shoe prints on their stony black hats, and no one would be the wiser. That was the idea, anyway.
Careful to not crush her flowers, Taylor wiped her feet off on the grass and then put her left foot on the Count's head to hoist herself up. Her window was shut, but not locked, and she shoved it up with the palms of her hands. Wood scraped against wood, but the window made little sound. Once it was open, she leaned over and pushed herself over the sill, making sure Lady Gaga's face didn't catch on anything and tear. It was her favorite shirt, and the last thing she needed after the night's massive disappointment was to ruin it.
Once inside her room she turned to close the window, but then paused. Just because her stupid brother had dumped her here didn't mean she had to stay. She hadn't been exaggerating one bit when she'd said staying in the house scared her. When the lights went out and the house was quiet, all she could think about were her parents sitting on the couch, staring into space. Telling Kyle about that had been hard, because it was a memory she didn't enjoy recalling, but there were other things she hadn't told him, things she kept to the furthest reaches of her mind. She didn't tell him about the whispers she heard coming from the bathroom when her dad went in there, or the way he sometimes cocked his head as if he was listening to something no one else could hear. She didn't tell him about the blackened fingernail she found in the bathtub the other day that was too large to belong to anyone else but her dad, and she certainly hadn't mentioned the way his eyes sometimes seemed to darken when he got really mad, like the light inside him was buried by something. Every night she spent under her parents' roof was a test of her resolve and love-- a test she was slowly failing. Now she felt like an end to it might be in sight, and that possibility made the prospect of another night in her room seem unbearable.
The decision to leave made, Taylor stooped down next to her bed and pulled out a green duffel bag. Other girls would have preferred a Hello Kitty backpack or some other lame shit, but not Taylor. Her mom had gotten the duffel bag for her years ago from an Army/Navy store, and when she'd said it was probably like the one Kyle used, the bag quickly became her favorite possession. The wear and tear it had developed over the years only made her love it more.
If she left now and peddled hard she could get to Morgan's in twenty minutes so long as the rain hadn't washed out Gosselin Road. Morgan knew how Taylor's family life had been going and had begged her repeatedly to stay over. Now was as good a time as any to take her up on it. Then they could even ride to school together tomorrow.
As Taylor walked to her dresser to get some clean clothes, a hand reached out from the darkness of her closet and grabbed her arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but another hand came up to smother it. She stumbled backward, pulling the figure with her, and in the weak light spilling through her window she saw her father. His skin looked as gray as storm clouds, but it was his eyes that sent her h
eart quaking in her chest. They were black and bottomless.
“You are such a disappointment,” he said, the words dropping from his mouth like chunks of ice. “At least now you’ll be of good use.”
The grip on her arm tightened painfully, and when she looked down she saw that none of her father's fingers had nails on them anymore. The soft grim skin that remained pulsed sickeningly, and the dark veins layered over it like webbing bulged and pushed outward. When several vessels burst and sent black tendrils twisting around her wrist like thin shadowy snakes, her mind broke and she fell into an unconscious heap. In the darkness the thing that had once been her father picked her up like she weighed next to nothing, hoisted her over a lumpy shoulder, and carried her into the night.
Chapter 7
Water fell on Maya all day, but the warm spray of her motel room's shower banished the memory of cold rain. The little bathroom was grimy, and the towels were rough, but the water flowed hot and strong. Every muscle kink and awkward moment the day had given her spiraled down the drain. It was a wonderful sensation.
Washed and toweled off, Maya walked to the bed. Her suitcase lay open on top of it, and after a few seconds of rooting around she came up with a navy blue Tennessee Titans t-shirt and a pair of red panties. After both garments were slipped on, she looked to the other side of the bed. Her cell phone lay dark on the nightstand.
She flopped on the bed and picked up her phone, figuring a quick email and Facebook check would be a good way to wind down before sleeping. As her fingers slid across the phone’s glass face she saw Alan had called and left a voice mail while she was in the shower.
He probably called to say he’ll be late, she thought as she opened the voice mail app. Typical.
“Hey, Maya, it’s me.” Alan’s slow, gloomy voice set off an alarm bell in her belly. “Listen, I…yeah…I can’t make it to the investigation in Stillwater. A last minute wedding videography job got booked, and my boss is still out of town, so I have to do it. I tried like hell to get one of the other guys to cover for me, but I work with a bunch of useless assholes, so I’m stuck with it. I’m really sorry.”
Maya knew he was sorry. Alan was a good guy, and most of the time really dependable. For him to beg off an investigation, especially one that appeared as juicy as this, it had to hurt. But, as the consequences of this change of plans played out in her mind, she realized she would end up being the sorriest of them all.
“So, as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, that means I had to ask Darius to help you in my place. I know, I know, your ex-boyfriend is the last person you want to see right now. He wasn’t all that happy about it either. If there was someone else I could send, I would, but the three of us are it – for now at least. If things go south in a hurry and you two absolutely cannot work together, just cut the trip short and come home. You and I will investigate it another time. It’s not like the town’s going anywhere, right? Anyway, I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Try not to kill him. Talk to you when you get back. Bye.”
It took all her willpower to not hurl her phone against a wall. Of everyone she didn’t want to see, Darius topped the list. She didn’t need the stress of him being around adding to what was already proving to be a tough investigation. But shit, what was done was done. Darius was probably already on his way. The only thing she could do now was grin and bear it.
All thoughts of sleep now banished from her head, Maya closed the voice mail app and started a game of Sweet Smash. The game was addictive, but when she imagined Darius’s face in place of the small sweet treats she destroyed with a touch of her finger it became all the more pleasurable. She didn’t look up from her phone when a pair of headlights swung past her window accompanied by a growling engine, but a knock at her door jerked her back to reality.
Instinctively she looked at the deadbolt and chain lock – both were secured – then checked the time on her phone. 10:34 PM. Her purse sat next to her, and she reached inside it. When her fingers circled the hard plastic handle of her taser she felt a tiny bit better. Getting out of bed as quietly as she could, she crossed to the door and took a look through the peephole. Kyle stood outside. As much as she looked forward to seeing him again, this seemed a bit soon.
“Kyle?” she asked through the door. “Everything okay?”
Even though the peephole’s lens distorted his face, his red eyes and disheveled hair told her he wasn’t okay. Her heart thudded with an extra beat.
“Not really,” he replied, his voice muffled by wood and wall. “If you don’t want any company, though, I understand. I just… I just needed to talk with someone.”
If Maya had a weakness, other than peanut butter cups and the smell of cigars, it was sad guys. And even though she knew that about herself, she was powerless to do anything about it. Wanting to mend broken men was just part of her DNA.
“No, it’s fine. Umm…give me a second.” Maya put her taser on the dresser, then opened a drawer and grabbed a set of pajama bottoms. They were faded green and didn’t go with her shirt, but at the moment beggars couldn’t be choosers. After they were on she did one last check of the room to make sure nothing was out that shouldn’t be. With her heart hammering in her chest like a caged animal, she went to the door, unbolted the lock, and opened it.
Kyle felt stupid as hell. Here he was, knocking on the door of a woman he barely knew, and all because his little sister had copped an attitude with him.
No, it’s more than that, and you know it. You don’t want to admit it, but every crazy thing she said, you believe it. You’ve got no evidence but one bad conversation with your mother, but even so, Taylor’s not lying. So what does that mean? What are you gonna do? Maybe you should run away again. That’s at least something you’re good at.
Those were the thoughts plaguing him on the drive back to the motel, and no matter how reasonable he tried to be with himself, they just wouldn’t leave him. He felt worse and less sure with every mile he drove, but when he pulled into the motel’s parking lot and saw Maya’s car he knew he had to see her. If anything could lift his spirits it was her beautiful blue eyes and bright smile.
She proved him right the moment she opened the door. She was a vision, even in old green pajama pants and a Titans t-shirt. A breath of cool air blew through his head, clearing away some of the angst-ridden dust. “Wow.”
A blush spread across Maya’s face like an early sunrise, and she tugged at the hem of her shirt as she backed away from the door. “Shut up and come in already.”
The air inside her room was damp, and a towel hanging from the bathroom door said why. Once through the threshold he turned left and settled into an empty chair next to the cheap table located between the bed and window. Behind him Maya locked the door, then followed him and sat facing him on the bed.
“So, you wanted to talk?” The question was direct, but her tone was soft.
Kyle nodded, yet as he soaked in her warmth all the tangles in his head loosened, deflating his anxiety. “I do. Or, at least, I did. I don’t know. My head and my heart are struggling to understand each other.”
“I can understand that.” Maya leaned against her headboard. “Is it your sister? You worried about her?”
“She’s part of it. Like I said, I don’t... I knew coming back to this damn town would be a mistake.”
“If your sister’s in trouble, then it’s not a mistake.”
He knew that. In his heart he knew she was right. In his head, though, he felt like David up against a Goliath made up of the entire town. It felt like too much, or he felt like too little. Or maybe it was both. Either way, he didn’t fell ready for what was coming.
“I just feel so damn guilty.” A warm tear fell down his face. “I never should have left her here. I was selfish, and stupid, and arrogant. I graduated, left town, joined the Army, and not once did I consider what might happen back home. How could I do that to my baby sister?”
With each word his tears fell harder.
Gre
at, now I look as pathetic as I feel. I am such a loser.
“You’re not a loser,” she replied as she leaned toward him, the caring quality of her voice sweeping his mind away and caressing his heart. “You were a kid. You couldn’t know. We all do dumb things we later regret. You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it. You’re here now, right? Better late than never.”
“Is it?” He reached for a handkerchief in his front pocket, but Maya reached out and wiped his tears away before he could get it. Her skin was warm and smooth against his, and just like when he’d first shaken her hand a jolt of electricity coursed through him. Under her touch he felt naked, exposed, and in a strange way completely at home. The swirl of sudden emotions made him dizzy.
“It is.” Maya’s eyes locked onto his, giving him a center to hold to. “Bad people don’t cry about what they’ve done or have regrets. You didn’t know what would happen, you did what you thought was right at the time, and now you’re back to try and make a difference. Your sister is lucky to have you as her big brother.”
Kyle wanted to believe her so much. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Shifting her legs around to hang off the side of the bed, she reached out and took both his hands in hers. “Believe it or not, I know more than you think. You’re a good man. You care. You have your doubts, but your love for your sister shines through that. You’re a remarkable guy, Kyle.”
Her words were healing, reaching into him and making right so many of the things that were wrong. Yet, as good as they felt, they also shined a light on fears and worries he normally kept in the dark.
“Remarkable. Right.” He sniffed back tears and rubbed at his wet eyes. “If I’m so remarkable, then why do I feel so helpless and alone?”
Using a hand under his chin to draw him close, she whispered, “You’re not alone,” and then kissed him. His instinct was to pull away – he barely knew Maya – but the feel of her hands as they held the sides of his face kept him right where he was. She leaned forward, pressing closer to him, the heat of her body washing against him in waves. After a few moments they both stood up and wrapped their arms around each other, giving and taking comfort.