by Amy Cross
“Why not?” I ask.
She turns to me. “Trust me, I know my sister. She's way too smart for that.”
“There's something in the forest,” I tell her. “Listen, this might sound crazy, but the forest isn't a safe place. There's a presence out there, a creature that -”
“You've seen it too?” she asks suddenly, interrupting me.
I frown. “What do you know about it?”
She pauses for a moment, before turning to the girl. “It's okay, Glenda. I'm sorry for -”
“Who the hell is it?” a male voice asks, and suddenly the door is pulled open as a semi-naked guy steps into view wearing just a towel around his waist. “Glenda, what's going on?”
“Dave?” Shannon says, her eyes filled with shock. “Glenda, what the hell are you -”
“He's changed,” she replies defensively.
“Hey,” the guy says to Shannon, “didn't we meet -”
“Is that a bruise on your neck?” Shannon asks, reaching out to put a hand on Glenda's shoulder.
“That was an accident,” Glenda replies, pulling back and starting to shut the door. “He's really changed this time.”
Before Shannon can say another word, Glenda slams the door shut and raised voices can be heard from the other side. Shannon knocks, but when there's no answer she sighs and hurries past me, heading back to the elevator.
“I don't have time for her crap right now,” she says firmly. “If she wants to make the same mistakes over and over, that's her problem.”
“Who was that guy?” I ask, hurrying after her. As we wait for the elevator, a moment of realization suddenly hits me. “Wait? Her name was Glenda? That's... kind of not very common. What was her surname?”
Ignoring me as the elevator doors slide open, Shannon steps inside.
“You need to tell me everything you know about the thing in the forest,” she replies finally, as I follow her inside and he hits the button for the lobby. “Maybe it's gotten stronger since I was here before, maybe over the years it managed to wear Rita's resistance down.”
“It offers things,” I say after a moment, feeling a knot of pressure in my chest. “If works out what you want the most in all the world, and it offers it to you in exchange for...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that for the first time I'm actually going to have to tell someone what I did. “I'm not a bad person,” I continue, “I swear I'm not, but I did some terrible things. I was weak and I allowed myself to get drawn into a process, and I allowed my natural feelings to be switched off so that I wouldn't have to feel shame or guilt or sorrow. When I think about the girls who died in that forest because of me, and when I think about the bitter, angry person I became, I almost -”
“She must be there,” Shannon says suddenly.
Turning to her, I realize that she wasn't listening to a word I said. Before I can reply, the elevator comes to a halt and she makes her way out, and there's nothing left for me to do other than to follow.
“I just hope Alison is able to find happiness,” I explain as we head out the door and over toward her rental car. “Her heart must be broken, she must -”
“I thought Rita was too intelligent to get drawn into this,” she replies, interrupting me again. “She was always way, way smarter than me, so what the hell changed? Why would she suddenly let down all her defenses?” Stopping at the car, she pulls the keys from her pocket and glances at me.
“Maybe she didn't want anything before,” I point out, “and now she does.”
“She's just a kid, the only thing she ever wants is...” Her voice trails off for a moment, and I can see the shock in her eyes. “Me,” she whispers finally. “Maybe she wants me enough for that creature to manipulate her.”
“I think your sister might be in a great deal of anger,” I tell her. “I think we need to find her as fast as possible.”
She sighs. “This is my battle, it's nothing to do with -”
“To hell it isn't!” I hiss, making my way around the car and trying to open the passenger-side door, only to find that it's locked. “That creature in the forest has ruined my goddamn life, and I'm not going to just walk away. The voice told me it had no more need for my services, it said it had found someone else and I guess now we know who. It must have been referring to your sister!” Filled with anger, I think back to the voice's taunting, calm tone. “Since my accident,” I continue finally, “I've been experiencing visions. I've seen your sister in several of them and -”
She waits for me to finish. “And what?” she asks cautiously.
“And bad things are always happening,” I reply, feeling a cold shiver run through my chest. “She's -”
Suddenly I hear a gunshot nearby. As I turn and look back across the parking lot, my eyes are filled with bright electric light and I realize I'm back in the BarraBuy store. Another gunshot rings out, then another, and after a moment I spot a bloodied body on the floor. Making my way over, I see that it's the same guy I saw in a previous vision, with his intestines having spilled out everywhere. Before I have a chance to react, however, I hear several more gunshots nearby, followed by an agonized scream.
“Rita?” I whisper, making my way toward the aisles. I flinch when I hear another shot, but a moment later the girl steps into view with a rifle in hands. “Rita!” I shout, as she aims the gun at me. “You have to -”
She fires.
I feel the bullet burst through my skull and enter my brain.
In a fraction of a second, the bright light of the store shatters and I let out a gasp as I find myself back in the parking lot.
“You okay there?” Shannon asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “It looked like you were having some kind of seizure.”
“The store,” I stammer, feeling a fresh wave of certainty washing over my body.
“What about it?”
“She's there.”
“No, you said you already looked. She must be in the forest -”
“She's been in the forest,” I stammer, trying the door again and this time finding that she's unlocked the car. “I don't know why, but she's heading back to the store and she's going to do something really bad.”
“Rita would never -”
“I'm telling you!” I shout, climbing into the car and pulling the door shut. “She's at the store! We have to get there before it's too late!”
Part Thirteen
RITA
I
“Clean-up to aisle five,” Joe says over the speaker, his voice stretched out as a long, bored drawl. “Hey Rita, lucky Rita, someone must've dropped a bottle of soda, it's spilled all over the place. Can you deal?”
Ignoring him, I reach up and take hold of the hunting rifle. I've never held a gun before, I've always been terrified of them, and I'm surprised by how heavy it feels as I take it down from the wall mounting. The store's gun department is supposed to be roped off overnight and the security key is kept in a locked drawer in the staff room, but I managed to get it out when no-one was looking and now I have the gun in my hands. Over on a nearby table, there's already a stash of bullets that I took from one of the other cupboards a few minutes ago.
“I don't know how to load it,” I whisper.
“It's not hard,” Shannon's voice replies, echoing through my head. “Just make sure you take the safety catch off once you're ready. Come on, you'll be fine. You're not an idiot.”
Setting the gun down on the table, I struggle to figure out how it works, but finally I manage to get the main section (or whatever it's called) to open. My hands are trembling slightly as I load two bullets, and then I close the gun. Is that it? Am I ready? I know so little about these things, I don't even have any idea what the various parts are called, but I figure none of that matters right now. After taking a look along the side of the weapon, I find the safety catch and move it to the 'off' position, and then I place a finger on the trigger.
If I squeeze, will it fire?
“Hey lovely Rita,” Joe says, his voice sounding a
little tinny over the store's speaker system, “did you hear me just now? I really need you to clean up that mess in aisle five. Is your radio not working or something?”
“What are you waiting for?” Shannon's voice asks.
“Why do you want me to do this, again?” I reply, keeping my voice low.
“I told you, I need to feel the experiences of real people. I need to share their emotions.”
“But why -”
“Pain and fear are the easiest to generate,” she continues. “You can't possibly deny that, Rita. What's wrong? Don't you love me enough to go through with this? If you'd rather let me fade away -”
“No!” I say firmly, even though the gun still feels incredibly wrong in my hands. I want to tell her that we can find another way, but somehow all my concerns are being pushed down in the back of my mind, almost as if there's some kind of filter.
“You won't feel any guilt,” she reminds me, “or sorrow, or regret. I'll make sure of that. And I'll also give you everything you want when you come back to the forest.”
“All I want is you,” I tell her. “That's all I've wanted for the past two years, to get you back.”
“So prove it,” she replies. “I don't need you to kill a lot of people, Rita, but I do need you to kill at least one or two. Let me feel their misery.”
Even though it's hard to believe that Shannon would ever say something like that, I know I can't argue. Every time I start to wonder what's really happening here, my thoughts are snatched away from me, as if I can't concentrate. I grab a couple more bullets and stuff them into my pockets before turning and starting to walk along the aisle. I haven't seen any customers for a while but, as I hold the rifle in my trembling hands, I tell myself that I'll simply have to shoot the first one I find. There'll be blood, and there'll be screaming, but at least Shannon will get what she wants.
“Okay,” Joe says over the speaker system, “I guess I'll do the clean-up in aisle five. You'd better be working on something important, Rita! We don't like slackers here!”
Reaching the next junction, I look both ways, hoping to spot some sign of movement. Seeing nothing, I start to make my way along the ends of the aisles, passing the different departments and almost feeling as if I'm in a daze. I swear to God, I think I could actually just switch my brain off and do this whole thing on autopilot. When I get to aisle ten, I stop for a moment and look over my shoulder, but there's no-one to be seen so I keep going, past aisle nine, then aisle eight, then seven and six, and then finally...
I stop as soon as I see Joe. He's on his knees with his back to me, using paper towels to mop up some liquid that has spilled all over the floor.
I freeze for a moment, before adjusting my finger on the trigger and aiming the rifle at him. At the same time, I hear a faint gasp in the back of my mind, as if Shannon is unable to hide her sense of anticipation. I don't want to do this but, every time I remind myself that it's wrong, my mind is filled with a kind of background noise that resets all my thoughts. At the same time, my trembling hands are suddenly a lot calmer, as if Shannon is reaching out from the forest and steadying my nerves, maybe even helping me so I can aim better. She's doing everything she can to make this easier for me, and I just have to take the final step.
This is for Shannon.
She needs me to do this.
I'm her sister.
I love her.
Making her happy is my job.
Wait, why does she -
This is for Shannon.
She needs me to do this.
I'm her sister, I love her and...
Suddenly Joe gets to his feet, takes a moment to wipe his hands, and then he casually turns to me. For a moment, his eyes seem to lock onto the rifle as if he hasn't quite recognized what's happening, but then he looks at my eyes and I can see the fear in his face.
“Rita?” he says cautiously. “Are you...”
I adjust my finger on the trigger.
I can feel Shannon waiting. She's holding her breath in my head, making everything else seem blank.
“You're not allowed to have that out of the cabinet,” Joe tells me, clearly still trying to work out whether or not I'm joking. “Jesus Christ, Rita, you could get fired on the spot and face charges if anyone catches you! Stop messing around, that thing is not a toy!”
I try to tell him I'm serious, but my mouth is dry and I can't get any words out. Part of me even wants to tell him to run, but I can't do that. I can't betray Shannon.
“Rita!” He takes a step toward me before stopping, and I can tell he's slowly getting more and more worried.
“I...” I stammer, but I know there's no point delaying things.
He pauses, before taking a step back. “Okay,” he says after a moment, “I'm just gonna go get someone, okay?”
And then he turns to run.
As soon as I pull the trigger, the rifle bucks in my arms and I take a step back, my ears filled with the sound of a single blast. At the same time, I keep my eyes fixed on Joe and watch in horror as the center of his back seems to explode with the force of the shot. Steadying myself against one of the shelves, I stare at him as he drops to his knees with blood flowing from the wound that has been blasted through his chest, and then he turns to me. Slowly, he puts his hands on the damaged area around his belly just as something wet and pink starts slopping out onto the floor. My heart is pounding as I realize that his intestines are exposed, and I watch for a few seconds as he frantically tries to take hold of them and scoop them back inside.
He's not screaming.
He's not crying.
He's not saying anything at all.
He's just desperately trying to put himself back together, and after a moment he reaches down and picks up a section of one of his ribs, trying to force it into the wound. As he does so, however, more blood flows out, splattering against the floor, until finally he stops for a moment and turns to look at me.
The only sound I can hear is my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears.
“I'm sorry,” I stammer, “I -”
Suddenly Joe falls back, and his head makes a dull cracking sound as it hits the floor. I wait, but the only movement now is his hands, still fumbling with his spilled intestines as if they're still trying to fix the damage. After a few seconds, however, even his hands fall still.
I pause, before slowly stepping over to him. As soon as I see his glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling, however, I turn and lean against one of the shelves. My whole body is trembling, although some external force seems to have its hands wrapped around me, keeping me from shaking too much. Feeling a strong twisting sensation in my belly, I lean forward and wait for a moment, before finally starting to retch. A moment after that, I drop to my knees and vomit, bringing up the remains of the sandwich I ate earlier. As I start wiping the drips from my lips, I can still hear my heart pounding, but at the same time something seems to be taking hold of my thoughts and pushing them down, as if Shannon really is managing to stifle the shock and grief that I feel. I can hear her, too, gasping with pleasure in the back of my mind.
And then I hear something else.
Footsteps.
Nearby.
Someone briefly running in the next aisle before stopping again.
I wait, and finally I realize I can also hear a series of low, terrified sobs.
“More,” Shannon's voice whispers in the back of my thoughts. “I need more. I want her too!”
I should hesitate, but I don't. Almost without thinking, I make my way past Joe's fallen body, stepping in his blood as I make my way to the end of the aisle. When I step around the corner and look into aisle six, I see a terrified-looking middle-aged woman, her eyes filled with tears. She lets out a cry of shock and turns to run, but I immediately fire again, hitting her in her left side and sending her crashing down to the floor in an explosion of blood and shattered bone. She cries out as more blood flows from her mouth, but it's clear as she tries to crawl away that she has no chance. Stepp
ing closer, I aim the rifle at her head and pull the trigger again, but this time there's only a clicking sound. I try a couple more times before realizing that I need to reload, so I take two more bullets from my pocket and slide them into place.
Aiming at the woman's head again, I pause for a moment as I realize that I recognize her. I'm not entirely sure where I've seen her before, but then it hits me: this is the woman I saw on my very first night at the store, as if somehow I had a vision of the future.
Before I can even start to work out what that means, however, I fire again, blowing her head apart and sending chunks of bloody flesh spraying across the floor. All that's left is the bottom half of her face, with her tongue nestled in the half-crown of her lower jaw.
“Sorry,” I stammer, taking a step back and then looking down as I feel something wet soaking into my left shoe. Sure enough, there's blood all over my feet and the lower part of my trousers.
“Finish him,” Shannon's voice whispers.
I look both ways, but there's no sign of anyone. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“Finish him. I need to feel him die.”
Heading back along the aisle, I'm about to ask again what she means when I spot the impossible: Joe is somehow still alive, dragging himself backward along the floor as he tries to get to the exit. I raise the rifle and aim at his head, and at that moment I realize that this is another moment that I briefly witnessed on my first night. When I was out at the dumpster, I thought I saw a creature crawling on its back through the parking lot, and in some twisted way I think that was a vision of Joe.
Pulling the trigger, I blast his chest open, and this time there's no doubt that he's dead. I'm shocked, but at the same time Shannon is filtering all the negative thoughts out of my head so I simply reach into my pocket and take out two more bullets, calmly reloading the gun before setting off again along the aisles.
“I don't think there's anyone else here,” I say out loud after a moment.