Nothing Town

by Cherie Mitchell

  She exhales and I can see she’s working through it in her head. “It’s Cemetery Hill all over again. We’re living in a house built on tainted land.”

  I struggle to quell my prickle of irritation. “To be fair, it’s not Cemetery Hill all over again. It’s not even Pannier Street. The birch tree witches aren’t any bother and we don’t have zombies lurching around the yard trying to kill us. The problem we’re facing now is that we’ve freely walked onto land owned by zombies. I know, I should’ve told you before I rented the car and drove us out here but I didn’t expect Reece to go and disappear on us.”

  “This is a zombie farm?” It seems to have finally sunk in. She’s now backing nervously down the track and I can’t say I blame her.

  “I don’t think it’s all that bad. From what I’ve been able to piece together, the country men were hit with the zombie curse but they’re not full-time flesh-eating zombies. They seem to be able to shift into a vaguely human form, as you just saw with Ronnie Kay.”

  “What kind of zombies are they when they’re not feasting on flesh?” Organza is peering nervously up the track at the dark entrance to the barn.

  “Zombies who like to tamper with milk prices. It’s a political-economic thing.” I throw my hands up to show her it makes no sense to me either.

  “That’s ridiculous! What’s the point of zombies if they only thing they can do is fiddle with dairy prices?”

  “I think their zombiefication means they can never fully be part of the Euthanasia community. I think the witches thought they were being clever by meddling with the brain cells of future generations of potential Town Council members. You’ve seen how oddly docile Ronnie Kay is.” Sure, it’s a stab in the dark but I have the feeling my random stab might’ve just found a bullseye. Then I remember my frequent sightings of livestock freighters and another a-ha moment drops into place. “I’m also beginning to wonder if these particular zombies feast on cows rather than people. It would certainly explain the inflated dairy prices, the putrid stink of this farm, and the constant stream of livestock freights trundling through town delivering more cattle. It might also go some way toward explaining the terseness of the men in town whenever the country boys are mentioned. It can’t be fun to know your country cousins are blood-guzzling cow vampires.”

  “We have to leave,” says Mom. “Now.”

  “Not without Reece,” Organza puts in. “We’re not going anywhere without him.”

  “We certainly aren’t going anywhere without him. They can’t get away with snatching Reece from right under our noses. I won’t let them. Not with his birthday coming up.” I march back to the barn on stiff, angry legs and holler for Ronnie. “Ronnie! We need to talk to you. What have you done with my brother?”

  Ronnie emerges from the barn like a bear hauling himself out of a cave after a long winter. He scrunches his eyes in the sunlight and blinks at me. His hands are dripping with some kind of red liquid but I convince myself it’s berry juice. “Huh? I haven’t seen your brother.”

  Bizarrely, as the tension mounts, Organza begins to the hum the theme song to Stranger Things. I step away from her, distancing myself from her idiocy. “Why is Sid’s truck here? You said your Pa wasn’t here. How did he leave the property without his truck? I didn’t see any bus stops at the gate and it’s a long way to walk to anywhere from here. If he’s in the barn tell him to come out now.”

  Ronnie does this shifty little side eye and I notice he doesn’t come any closer, preferring the relative safety of his pseudo cave. “Uh, he’s not here. He took Matt’s truck.”

  Organza’s keen ears prick up. “Did Matt go with him? Will he be back soon, too?”

  “Hey.” Reece steps out of the trees and onto the track just a short distance from where we’re standing. “What’s happening?”

  My relief makes my voice sharper than I intended. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I thought I heard a kitten meowing in those bushes. I went looking for it but I didn’t find it. Did you get the berries?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We head straight back to town after that. We’ve all decided out country jaunt has been quite enough for one day. I take my subdued family back to Windfell and head across to return the rental car, promising I’ll be back as soon as I can. As I leave, I hear Organza telling Mom that she might go out on a date tonight with one of her dating app men but I hear Mom shut her down fairly quickly. I think Momma Hen wants to keep an eye on all her chicks this evening after the trauma of our day out at the Kenworth farm.

  I drop the car off and I’m setting off to walk back home, thinking about whether I’ve finally solved the whole livestock-dairy prices-zombie dilemma, when I hear footsteps following close behind me. An unwanted image of the apparition with the dropped pie face looms before me and I freeze up. Whoever it is walking behind me grabs me by the shoulder and I shriek out loud, my scream ricocheting down the street.

  “Ellie. It’s only me.”

  I spin around to find myself looking up at Jack. He’s grinning happily and seems pleased to see me. He’s also wearing another one of those sublime paisley shirts. “Are you alright? You looked as if you were miles away. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I was daydreaming. I shouldn’t have screamed.” I can feel myself dissolving under his hypnotic stare. “Why aren’t you at work? What are you up to now?” I realize he’s never told me what he does for a living and I’m about to ask when he smiles disarmingly, making me forget what it was that I was about to say. “What am I up to? I’m about to make the most of this chance meeting and invite you for a coffee.”

  “I’d like that.” All thoughts of going straight home immediately vacate my brain.

  I fall into step beside him and we walk back down the block to the coffee shop that’s beginning to feel like a second home to me. We pass someone’s front garden and Jack gallantly steals me a white rose from the rose bush hanging over the fence. “Did you know that the world’s oldest living rose bush is approximately 1000 years old? It grows on the wall of the Cathedral of Hildesheim, a charming gothic building in Germany.” He stops abruptly and I wait with my nose buried in the bloom, thinking he’s going to expand on this romantic tale but instead he turns away, muttering something under his breath that sounds remarkably like a cuss word.

  “Have you been to Europe, Jack?” I twirl the stem of the rose in my fingers, smitten by his stolen gift. Honestly, this man has my senses as scrambled as a plate of breakfast eggs.

  “Many times.”

  “I’m hoping to make it to Paris one day.” With you. Okay, I’m throwing up a little in my own mouth due to the way my brain has turned into a fawning, fluttering stranger but I just can’t help what he does to me.

  “It’s a picturesque, enthralling city.” He holds the coffee shop door open for me and I accidentally-on-purpose brush against his paisley-clad chest as I pass. His body where it touches mine is surprisingly cool and I wonder where he’s been to lower his body temperature so much. Has he been working out in the open somewhere? I still haven’t asked what he does for a job.

  Jack keeps up the conversation, leaving me no chance to interject with my questions and before long, we’re discussing the castles of Transylvania as if it’s the most interesting subject that’s ever presented itself. Jack appears to have a fascination with old buildings and I’m happy to listen to his melodic tones as he delves deep into a topic that’s obviously close to his heart.

  The conversation pauses as our coffee arrives and then Jack asks if I had a nice day out with my family. I start to tell him about the Kenworth farm and when I see how keen he is to hear more, I take a deep breath and plunge into the whole zombie thing. He barely bats an eyelid.

  “Yes, I’ve heard that the Kenworths are a unique family. Was the oldest son the one you spoke to?”

  “Ronnie Kay. He was the only one around. The farm was strange, too. No sign of any livestock, no sounds, just everything completely sti
ll and quiet. There was a weird mist too, even though the day was sunny and clear.”

  “How droll.” Jack pushes his coffee cup away and sits back in his chair, mesmerizing me into near stupefaction by the way he elegantly crosses his long legs. “Tell me more about you, Ellie. What have you been up to over the past few years?”

  I choose not to notice that his phrasing is slightly off. He’s speaking as if he once knew me and we’re catching up again after some time spent apart, but perhaps that’s just his normal friendly style. “After graduating from college, my boyfriend and I bought a house together but there were a few issues. It didn’t work out with either the boyfriend or the house.”

  He raises one perfect eyebrow. “You bought a house at such a young age? Well done.”

  “I received some money, an inheritance of sorts. My father died when I was young and the insurance company finally came good on the payout.”

  Something skitters across Jack’s face, something dark and indecipherable, but he quickly replaces it with another gorgeous smile. “A story with a happy ending. What happened to the house?”

  “Electrical fire. Burned to the ground.” Something is warning me not to reveal too much. I’m not sure if it’s the sinister expression that I fleetingly glimpsed on his face or the tense way he’s now poising his body. He’s crouched and alert, as if he’s ready to spring into action but is purposely holding himself back.

  “What happened after that? What happened to the boyfriend?” He lifts his eyebrow again into another exquisite arch.

  “We broke up. We were far too young for the experiences that we went through together. I was probably mad to think it could work in the first place. Maybe I was hoping to recreate something I’d lost.” I’m about to talk about my Dad but again, I hold my tongue. Jack’s handsome face and dark eyes are watching me a little too intently and I have a loud alarm going haywire in my head. My scrambled senses start to return to normal and suddenly I don’t want to be here. “I should go home. I told my family I wouldn’t be long.”

  “Wait.” He reaches out to lightly touch my hand and I’m shocked by the iciness of his touch. “Am I still invited to the family dinner tomorrow night?”

  I remember my family’s divided reaction to the news that I’d invited Jack along. I hope they’ll play nice with him over dinner. “Of course you are. We’ve booked in at the Crippled Herring at 7pm. Mom and Organza had lunch there the other day and they said it’s lovely.”

  “Wonderful.” He walks me to the door and pushes it open for me to step through. “Until tomorrow evening, Ellie.”

  I look over my shoulder as I walk away but he’s already gone and the doorway stands empty. As I turn back, I notice a fat, creepy, disgusting blowfly alight on my sleeve. I shudder and flick it off but it doesn’t fly too far away, instead buzzing lazily around in the air beside my head. I take off at a run, anxious to get away from it, but I swear that fly follows me half the way home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The next morning is Reece’s birthday. I make my brother a cup of coffee and carry it through to his bedroom to wish him happy birthday. He looks up from where he’s reading in bed and pats the pillows next to him. “Jump in with me, Ellie.”

  “Happy birthday, Reece!” I sit his coffee cup on the cabinet next to his bed and lean in to wrap him up in a hug. “I can’t believe you’re 21!”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun.” He wiggles his butt over and I join him in bed, plumping the pillows behind us and pulling the covers back up over our legs.

  “Ugh, did you have to mention flies?” We put our heads together, snorting and giggling. Reece is very understanding of my fly phobia. This feels just like old times and I’m so glad to have him here.

  “Ellie, do you ever think about Dad?”

  The question hits me right beneath my heart, as sharp and painful as a twisting knife blade. Reece and I have never spoken about our Dad. I didn’t think he remembered him too much about him as he was so little when Dad died. “Yeah, I think about him. He was a special guy. Do you think about him much?”

  “Sometimes. I remember him holding me in his arms. I have this memory of him being tall and strong and me feeling safe.”

  “That’s probably because you were just a little kid. I think he was just a medium-sized man rather than being particularly tall. His strength was in his courage.”

  “You’re a lot like him, Ellie.”

  Honestly, I’m so touched that I want to break down in tears. I cough and sneeze at the same time to hide my emotions. That’s the nicest thing that anyone, anywhere has ever said to me.

  “Happy birthday to yoooooooooooooooooooo.” Mom breaks the mood by marching into the bedroom with a sullen-faced, drowsy Organza in tow. “Happy birthday, darling!” She swoops in to drop a loud kiss on Reece’s cheek then pushes our legs out of the way so she can sit down on the bed. She pulls Organza down beside her. “I wanted to speak to you all together this morning.”

  Reece gently pinches my arm under cover of the blankets. I know what he’s getting at and I struggle to keep my face straight. Mom is probably about to do her usual Mom thing and highjack Reece’s birthday morning to make it all about her.

  I’m left feeling mean when it turns out that she has no plans to highjack anything. Instead, she hands us each a jeweler’s box containing a delicate gold necklace with a cross pendant. “I know it’s Reece’s birthday but I wanted to get you all something to commemorate what we’ve been through together as a family. Ellie is the only one who’ll remember this,” she catches my gaze and holds it. “Crosses had a special significance for the family when we lived back on Cemetery Hill. I think your father would understand why I’m giving each of you this in his memory. I hope you’ll treasure them always.”

  Waaaahhh! Within seconds, we’re all sobbing and howling, hugging each other and telling Mom how much this means to us. We help each other to do up the necklace clasps, each of us vowing never to take it off. Mom beams, pleased to see she’s done the right thing, and I give her an extra hug for being my exasperating, frustrating, crazy, adorable Mom. She then hands Reece a large check, saying that this is his real gift, but he says that the necklace is the only gift he wants and needs. It would be nauseating if it didn’t all feel so right.

  The entire day continues in the same weirdly loving vein. It’s warm and family-oriented and highly unusual for the Friedlanders. By the time we’re ready to go to the Crippled Herring we’ve spent several hours playing board games and bonding, and it’s a happy little group that sets off for the restaurant. The restaurant itself is unexpected when we eventually get there. It’s more upmarket than the usual small town offering but it also has welcoming, family vibe. The waiter ushers us over to a table in the corner, where gold balloons stamped with ‘21’ are tied to the back of each chair and the words ‘Happy Birthday, Reece!’ decorate a large sign in the middle of the table. Mom and Organza grin at each other, pleased that their plan has worked out, and Reece looks as if he might float away with happiness.

  The waiter wishes Reece a happy birthday, passes him a ‘Birthday Boy’ badge to wear, and hands out sizeable menus to everyone. Mom orders several bottles of wine, clearly planning to jump off the sobriety wagon on the occasion of her only son’s birthday, and we settle back to peruse the menu.

  “They have banana splits with triple caramel cream.” Reece has jumped ahead to the dessert section, patently the only section that matters to him tonight.

  Organza pulls a face. “I don’t eat bananas unless they’re whizzed up with rum and coconut and served in a cocktail glass decorated with a paper umbrella. We had it in the Isle of Capri when we were there on my birthday.”

  I can’t resist. “Organza, you have the palate of a two-year-old. You used to love mashed bananas. Most of them would end up decorating your cheeks rather than finding their way into your mouth, but you still loved them.”

  “You can talk all you want about bananas finding their w
ay into your mouth. I have no doubt you have plenty of experience with that little activity, Ellie.”

  My sister and I glare at each other. It’s a banana stalemate. Our lovey-dovey feelings from earlier in the day have apparently all evaporated in a banana-smeared pall of oft-aired lifelong disagreements.

  “Awwww, isn’t this lovely? Having everyone together again and reminiscing?” Mom has a dreamy look on her face and she has clearly missed the obvious nod to long-held sisterly animosities going on beneath her nose. “You were all such cute babies. I’m blessed, truly blessed.”

  Reece clears his throat and rattles his menu. I’m thrilled to see that he’s about to make a speech. This is as far out of Reece’s comfort zone as he can get and I’m so proud of my brother for doing this tonight. “Sssssssssssssshhh,” I say to anyone who might dare to make a sound, “Reece is about to say his birthday speech.”

  “Ohhhh.” Mom clasps her hands against her heart and Organza whips out her phone to take a photo of this memorable, once-in-a-lifetime moment for the benefit of her Insta feed.

  Reece’s cheeks are pink as he makes a short speech about how much he loves us all and how he can’t imagine his life without us. I have tears in my eyes and my heart is bursting with pride as he sits back down again. I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “Reece, that was lovely. We all feel the same way about you. You’re the best brother anyone could hope for.”

  “Well, isn’t this cozy?” Jack’s voice speaks up from over my shoulder, deep and melodious. A shiver runs through me and I’m about to turn around when Reece explodes with delight, leaping out of his chair and sending it clattering to the floor behind him. “Obidiah! You’re here! I’m so pleased you came, especially after you told me you might not be able to make it tonight.”

  What the fuck did he just say?!

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I think it’s safe to say all hell breaks loose after that. Quiet hell. We are in the middle of a restaurant after all, and Jack doesn’t exactly look like your standard, run of the mill demon. Am I devastated to discover that Mr. Dreamy is in fact the dark spirit who has haunted our family for years? I guess you could say that but my fury outdoes my devastation. “Jack Hemlock, you two-faced creep! How dare you!”