Moon

by Samantha Allard

  "Why the hell did you open the front door?" A man’s angry voice cut through the air.

  "She's a young girl, Colin. How do you think I would have felt if I had picked up the newspaper and had seen she was the next one reported missing?" Rose said.

  By the sound of her voice, I guessed the elusive Colin had arrived back home.

  "It's not safe."

  I flinched at his harsh tone. I hadn't met him yet, and I was already sure I didn't like him.

  "I'm a grown woman, Colin. I did fine before I moved in with you, and I'll be fine without you."

  I listened from my vantage point on the stairs. Did that mean I needed to find somewhere else to stay? I didn’t want to spend the day searching for another motel when I could be out looking for Michael. I moved toward the door and kicked a wooden coat stand that I’d missed the night before. I bit my lip to stop from crying out.

  Damn, that hurt.

  "Rachel?"

  How did she know it was me? There were others in the motel. I still hadn’t seen any of them, but the door I’d heard closed the night before meant someone was upstairs.

  I walked away from the door and made my way to the voices and the rather distinctive smell of bacon. There were several doors leading to different parts of the house. All were closed, except one.

  I entered a large kitchen. Purple and black tiles covered the walls. The sink was under the window, and I could see it was going to be a grey day. On top of my desperate need for clothes, I needed to hunt down an umbrella.

  Rose stood next to the cooker with her back to me. Whatever she was cooking, it smelled great. My stomach rumbled loud enough that Rose and her son couldn’t have missed it. I silently promised that I would put something in it soon. A man sat the table with a cup in front of him. He was large, but fat wasn’t the right word to describe him. His body looked too solid to be anything but muscle. The kitchen light bounced off his bald head.

  "Good morning."

  The older man studied me over the rim of his cup. "You must be something quite rare."

  "Excuse me?"

  He shrugged. "I said that you must be something quite rare. I mean to get my mother to open the door after she's locked it for the night. Didn’t you make Darius sleep outside because he was five minutes late?" The last part was directed at his mother who hadn’t turned around from her task.

  “He knew the rules. Rachel didn’t.”

  Colin turned his attention back to me, and boy did it make me feel uncomfortable. I fought against the urge to wrap my arms around my waist. It took a lot to unnerve me, but even I could read a situation that could spiral out of control.

  I guess I’ll have to make sure to wedge the chair against the door while I’m here.

  Colin pulled out a ring of keys and worked one off the loop, He held it out to me as if he was trying to coax a feral dog to approach him. I edged forward and reached for it. My fingers barely brushed against the cold steel before he grabbed my hand. A tiny mixture of surprise and shock escaped me.

  Damn, he moves fast.

  "Colin!"

  He quickly let my hand go, leaving the metal key where his hand had been. He glanced over my shoulder to his mother and then back to me. "Why are you in London?"

  Well, it can't hurt. I ignored the weird sensation that shot up and down my fingers and opened my bag. "My brother ran away from home a few years ago. Have you seen him?" I held out the picture.

  Colin took it from me.

  Rose shuffled to her son, studying the picture over his shoulder. "I haven't seen him, I'm afraid."

  Colin nodded. "London is a big town. Unfortunately, people go missing."

  I smiled. "Well that might be true, but they didn’t have me looking for them."

  ***

  Being in a big city made me feel small and unimportant. The buildings and skyscrapers loomed over me. How am I supposed to find anyone here? I already felt lost. People passed me without sparing a glance as I made my way to Trafalgar Square. I doubted he was still there, but it was a place to start, and I had something I hadn’t had a few days before. Hope.

  The whole area felt crowded, despite the weather. A group of students shielded by umbrellas ate lunch and talked among themselves. Their laughter brightened the day a little, but the rain was trying hard to ruin it. People crossed the large area, either on their way to work or to lunch dates of their own.

  The first place I stopped was a photography shop near the courtyard, and I got a few hundred copies of my brother’s photo printed. Borrowing a pen, I spent the next half an hour jotting down the number for the motel on the back. The original plan had been to put my mobile number down, but there was a risk that my battery would die. After that was done, I bought the much-needed umbrella.

  I stood in the large space, trying to hand the photo out. Most of the passersby shook their heads and kept walking, not even bothering to look.

  "Have you seen this man?" I'd said the words so many times that they'd started to lose meaning. I held the umbrella tightly, and the rain hit it hard enough to make be worry about it being knocked out of my hand.

  A man stopped, using a newspaper as a makeshift umbrella. "Who is he?"

  I spared him a quick glance. He reminded me a little of my dad with another ten years added to his age. The long, dark green jacket he wore ended at his ankles. The material shined as the water rolled down and soaked the bottom of his trousers. At his neck, I noticed a shirt and tie. A well-trimmed moustache and beard covered his face. Small glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, the lenses covered in water droplets.

  "My brother." The words caught in my throat. I had buried the pain of him running away a long time ago, but, apparently, I hadn’t gotten over it yet.

  He plucked the picture out of my hand and studied it. A tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows. Hope blossomed in the pit of the stomach, but the excitement quickly vanished as he handed it back to me.

  "I'm sorry."

  I bit my bottom lip. Every no I heard took a toll on me. A few hours had passed and a weariness had seeped into my bones already. "It's okay. It's starting to feel a little like an impossible task," I admitted.

  "Do you have a copy I can take? I'll show it to my friends in the office. Maybe one of them has seen him."

  "You'll do that? Thank you." I handed the picture back to him.

  He undid the jacket with his free hand and slipped the photograph into the dry folds. "Where are you staying? You know, just in case I need to get in contact with you."

  "Rose Hill. The number is on the back."

  He reached out, offering his hand, and I shook it. It's slightly damp from the rain, but it's a nice, solid handshake.

  "My name is John."

  "Rachel."

  "I'm sure I'll be in contact soon." He gave me a vaguely reassuring smile. Watching him walk away, I managed a smile. After a long day of nothing. No smiles. No concern. It made a nice difference.

  By the time I’d decided to call it a day, the crowds that had seemed almost oppressive earlier had vanished. There were a few kids on skateboards, who used the fountain to grind against, but besides them, I was the only one in the square.

  It's time to head back to the motel. If I'm lucky maybe, I'll miss Colin. He managed to freak me out. The way he’d grabbed my hand? I shuddered.

  My stomach growled. I hadn’t left the square since I’d arrived that morning, and I needed to go to a shop to pick something up, or I’d start to feel sick. That wouldn’t help anyone.

  I’d hoped I would be further along than what I was, but other than the man who offered to show Michael’s photo to his friends at work, there’d been nothing. The next day might be a new day, but what was the point if it just ended the same? I needed to come up with another plan, but I couldn’t think of anything that could work better. If Michael didn’t want to be found and hadn’t for such a long time, what made me think that I would be the one to do it?

  Because I knew something they didn’
t. Michael was alive.

  On my way back to the motel I must have taken a wrong turn because I ended up in a derelict part of London; the buildings were mostly empty. The windows were filled with shattered blades of glass. How the hell had I managed to get lost? I needed to find the main road again. With that in mind, I turned around and headed back the way I’d come.

  A brief flash of movement drew my attention to the farthest corner of some flats. Was someone watching me? I kept walking. There it was again. This time near a different corner.

  It's probably just some kids playing hide-and-seek, or they are sizing me up. I scowled at myself. In a strange town, lost in the dark, and I'd started imagining things.

  I didn’t usually have a vivid imagination, but there was something about being out of my element that unnerved me. The streets were empty now, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched me.

  It annoyed me.

  Five minutes from the motel, a weird pressure began to build at the base of my skull. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to work out the unexpected tension, but I stopped when I heard the footsteps. A group, and by the sound of them, a large one. I fought against the urge to glance behind me but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t like the idea of anyone being able to sneak up on me, though they weren’t being stealthy about it.

  Besides the group behind me, the street was deserted. The streetlamps were starting to flicker to life. The people behind me were kids, about ten of them, but they outnumbered me. Most of them wore hoodies, pulled up so I couldn’t make out any of their faces.

  Deliberately intimidating.

  "Hey, little girl," the tallest one called out.

  I didn’t like the mocking edge to his voice. I was probably older than all of them. I ignored them. All I needed to do was reach the motel. A door between me and them.

  "Are you ignoring me?"

  I bit my lip. Keep walking, Rachel. Don’t stop. You’ll only make this worse. As soon as they see that they can’t get a rise out of me, they’ll leave me alone.

  As soon as the thought about running passed my mind, they had me surrounded, and I stopped.

  "Maybe she's deaf, Bill," one offered.

  "No." The word came out smaller and meeker than I liked. I just managed to sound scared.

  Someone laughed and the hairs went up at the base of my neck.

  "So she can speak."

  "No, what?" the one called Bill asked, stepping forward.

  I fought against the urge to step away from him. Deep down, I knew it would only make the situation worse.

  "I'm not deaf."

  "So you were ignoring me." Not a question, a statement.

  My fate was sealed. It didn’t matter what I said from then on. I needed to get away from them.

  A growl came from somewhere behind me. A dog? I hadn't seen one. I knew there had to be a way out of this. Maybe I could slip out between the gaps in the circle between them and run like hell. But if they had a dog? I was screwed. I couldn’t outrun a dog. I might have learned a lot from Dad, but fighting a large group of kids had never been on the lesson plan.

  "What do you want?" This time my voice was clear. I was outnumbered, but I wasn’t going to show them any fear. Well, at least not any more than I’d done already.

  "Just want to talk," Bill, who is obviously the leader, tells me. A boy acting like a man, preying on the weak.

  "What do you want to talk about?" The group closed in closer, I heard the growl again, and I searched for it, but I couldn’t see a dog. Where’s the growls coming from?

  "It’s dangerous for a girl to be alone in London at the moment. Don't you watch the news? People go missing all the time around here."

  Is that supposed to be a threat? Next thing he'll be trying to offer me protection. What is he? Twelve?

  "What's going on here?" a new voice came from the direction of the motel.

  A part of me hoped that the group would start to break up, now that they had an audience, but if anything they tightened the circle.

  "This doesn't concern you." This time one of the boys growled.

  I managed to peek over their shoulders and tried to make out the owner. An older boy moved from pool of light to pool of light. Tall, with broad shoulders and definitely older than the ones surrounding me. He could probably handle himself in a fight, but with these numbers, I didn’t like his odds, and I sure as hell didn’t like mine.

  A few of the boys shifted from foot to foot, and a nervous energy swept around the circle.

  The tallest boy broke away from the group. "I said this doesn't concern you."

  He isn’t crazy enough to throw a punch, is he? The other boy is twice his size.

  Logic didn’t seem to have sunk into the younger boy's head. His body twisted at the waist as his hand clenched into a fist.

  "Watch out!" I yelled.

  My rescuer swiftly ducked under the boy's arm and grabbed the boy by the throat. He said something to him in a voice so low I couldn’t make out the words and then threw him. The boy hit the ground in front of me and the others in his group. I slipped through the gap and scrambled to the other boy—running from a bunch of strangers to just one.

  "Get her."

  What the hell? Why do they want me so desperately?

  Someone tries to grab me, the barest touch of a hand and I duck automatically. They are still too close. The other older boy ran towards me, closing the distance between us before grabbing my wrist, and spinning me behind him in one smooth movement.

  Hiding behind his back, I felt like a coward. I glanced over his shoulder.

  "I suggest you all leave."

  The way he said it was so absolute that even I didn’t want to argue with him.

  "You can't take all of us," Bill barks. He nods to one direction, and points to the other. It’s a silent command and one the group obeys without question or hesitation. Why do they all sound like growling dogs? It’s in the way they move their heads—jerking motions that remind me of rabid animals being pulled back by a leash.

  "Then you can choose who dies first," my rescuer said confidently.

  My breath caught. Did he say he would kill them?

  They all stopped and shared a look between them, like having a conversation without words. "We'll see you later, little girl." As they walked away, they let out howls in the air.

  A part of me felt silly. I shouldn’t have been walking around in the dark. A taxi. A bus. Anything would have been better. London was dangerous. It was all over the news.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. "Thank you."

  "Who the hell are you?" My rescuer turned around, his face close to mine and cast in shadow so I couldn’t get a clear view of it.

  My instincts finally kicked in. A brief flash of fear swept through me, and I brought my knee up hard, hitting him in the one weak spot every man shared. He doubled over and squeaked. It gave me precious few seconds, and I darted to the safety of the motel.

  Chapter Five

  My chest hurt. The muscles in my legs burnt. I didn’t run, but in the space of two days, I’d managed the feat twice. What the hell is wrong with the world? Did a note go out to all the strange folks in London announcing my arrival? I seemed to be attracting them like a magnet. I’d left my rescuer behind me somewhere, and I didn’t bother to glance back. That was how the heroines in Horror movies met their grizzly end. I’d end up tripping over my feet and knocking myself out. Or I’d turn around only to realize that he was no longer there. To find out that he was in front of me.

  For the love of god, Rachel, get a grip.

  At least it had happened close to the motel. I didn’t know the city well enough not to end up getting lost again. I turned the corner and nearly lost my balance before I ran up the garden path. The front door was within arm's reach. My fingers barely brushed the wood.

  "Will you stop?"

  My rescuer. He’d caught up with me. The words were followed by a hand falling heavy on my shoulder. No m
an should be able to move after they get kicked hard enough that his future children would be bruised. Most men would be searching for the nearest ice pack.

  My options run through my head. I didn’t really have any. Damn. I stopped short, thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a firm grip, maybe that would work in my favor? I ducked down, twisted, and left him holding air. Twirling on the balls of my feet, I pulled back my fist, and crouched down low. He reached down, grabbed my fist in mid-swing, and tugged me back up to my feet.

  "I’m not going to hurt you. Will you stop trying to knock out my teeth?"

  Caught in the light of the hallway passing through the door, I made out his dark hair, quite short on the sides and long on the top. He’d be cute if he wasn’t a sandwich short of a full picnic.

  "Let go of me." I reached behind me for the door. If I knocked, would Rose come?

  "You do remember I just saved your life, don't you?" he asked, shock evident on his face.

  What is this guy's problem? What right does he have to be annoyed?

  "Then you yelled in my face. Don't blame me for being cautious." I tugged my arm free, and he let go.

  "I'm sorry." He studied me intently, and then he brought his hand up, reaching for me again.

  I flinched but he picked up the loose braid that laid over my shoulder. He tugged on it, and it slipped off. Damn, I hadn't clipped the wig to my natural hair properly.

  "Do you usually wear a wig?"

  The way he watched me with open curiosity reminded me of a cat. I took the time to return the favor. I needed to get a closer look at him. Black hair with a slight curl to it brushed against the curve of his ear. A few years older than me. Closer to being a real adult. After being surrounded by girls for a couple of weeks, standing close to a boy made for a refreshing change.

  I pressed my back against the door, and I nervously ran my hand through my short bob of blonde hair. "I really don’t think it's any of your business."

  He smiled, moving around me until he leaned back, resting against the wall. This version of him was less scary. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore.