by Amy Cross
“I remember you,” he continues with a smile. “You and... I think you had a sister?”
I nod, surprised that once again I've been remembered, even though I haven't been back to Tulepa for close to two decades.
“I used to see you all playing in the garden here sometimes,” the man continues, “back when your parents used to come and visit Eli. I guess you've forgotten, you were just a kid, but I gave you candy a few times. With your Mom's permission, of course.”
“I don't remember that at all,” I reply, feeling a little awkward. Catching another sight of his blackened, rotten teeth, I can't help shuddering. “Sorry.”
“I guess it was a long time ago,” he continues. “When you're young, you don't remember stuff so well, do you? It's only old fools like me who keep all those memories filed away in their heads.” He chuckles to himself. “I don't remember my wife's birthday or our wedding anniversary, but I remember those little blue candies I used to hand out to kids when they were playing near the fence. I might even have a few left over, although it's been a long time since I need them.” He checks his watch again. “Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and I think about my brain, and I wonder what the hell is going on in there.”
Forcing a smile, I turn to look back at the house. To be honest, I'm starting to get a little worried about Eli.
“You should leave,” the old man says suddenly.
I turn back to him.
“You should leave soon,” he continues, with a new sense of earnestness in his voice. “I'll tell old Eli you were here, I'm sure he'll be pleased to know that someone finally came down to check on him. Hell, I'll make sure the old fool gives you a call some time when he's feeling... Well, when he gets a chance. I'm sure it won't be too long, he's just a busy guy. Just this morning, I saw him out in his yard and we chatted, and then he said he had to get off and run errands. I saw a list in his hand a mile long, he seemed like he was gonna be out most of the day.”
“He did?” I pause, feeling a little confused. “I thought you said a moment ago that you haven't seen him for a while?”
“I...” He frowns. “Well yeah, sure, I mean... Around here, when you don't see your neighbor in a couple of hours, that kinda feels like a long time, you know?” He forces a smile, once again baring those rotten teeth, and this time I notice that some of them are little more than strands of loose nerves, dangling down from yellow, misshapen gums. To my horror, I see that one of those loose nerves is caught between two of his lower teeth. The pain should be unbearable. “That's how life goes in a small town,” he continues with a grin. “I wouldn't get too worried, if I were you.”
Staring at him, I can't shake the feeling that something's not quite right with this situation. A man with such serious dental decay should be in excruciating pain, yet he seems to have barely even noticed.
“I really want to see Eli with my own two eyes,” I tell him cautiously. “You understand, right? It's been a long time since I came by this way, and the rest of the family are relying on me to check he's okay. It's been a year since anyone last came to see him.”
“A year?” He frowns. “I don't... Has someone been to see him in the past year?”
“My sister, and before that her husband came. They both said he seemed fine.”
“Is that right?” he stares at me for a moment, as if he's genuinely puzzled by something. “Well,” he mutters, “isn't that a thing?” Another chuckle. “There's no need for a pretty young lady such as yourself to be hanging out in a dead town like Tulepa. I promise, I'll let Eli know you were here, and I'm one hundred per cent certain he's gonna be real grateful that you took time out of your day to come all this way.”
“But if -”
“And I can assure you,” he adds, interrupting me, “that your uncle is fine. In fact, he's more than fine, he's probably the happiest, most active man in the whole town. That's really why you'd be wasting your time if you sat around trying to meet up with him. God knows when he'll be home next, the man keeps himself busy like nothing I've ever seen before. Sometimes he's even out all night. I don't have a clue where he goes, but I don't think that man has had a dull moment for years.”
“Is that right?” I ask, staring at him for a moment. This guy's story seems to change every time he opens his mouth; one second my uncle's a quiet man who's barely ever seen around the place, the next he's a whirlwind of activity, the kind of man who's constantly spotted out and about. Turning back to look at the house again, I realize that there's no way I can leave without checking on him in person. He might not be the closest member of my family, but I could never forgive myself if I ducked out of my duty and then I found out something had happened to him. Besides, even though he has a reputation in the family for being cranky, I always liked him when I was a kid. He was always friendly, at least to me.
“Leave now,” the old man says finally, “and you'll beat the traffic.”
I turn back to him. “I can't go just yet,” I tell him. “I can't leave Tulepa until I've seen my uncle and made sure he's okay.”
He sighs, and I can tell he's frustrated by my answer.
“I thought none of you cared about him,” he says finally, with clear irritation in his voice. “That's the way he put it, anyway. He said none of you gives a damn, and he said he likes it that way. He said he doesn't want to be bothered by a bunch of do-gooders.”
“Then I guess I'll have to prove him wrong,” I continue, bristling at yet another change in this guy's tone. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go try the door again, and then I guess I have to find somewhere to check in for the night.”
Without waiting for a reply, I head back toward the house. Even before I've knocked on the door, I can tell there won't be an answer, and when I glance over to the fence I see that the old guy is still watching me. I make my way to the nearest window and peer inside, but it's hard to make anything out and the place certainly doesn't seem as if someone's still living here. I take a step back and look at the upstairs windows, and then I sigh as I realize that I'm going to have to stick around in Tulepa for at least one night.
There's no way I'm leaving town until I've seen my uncle in the flesh.
Chapter Four
Tatty
“I need to use the internet.”
As soon as those words leave my mouth, I can see the resigned frustration in Mrs. Pemcoat's eyes. Sighing, she opens the top drawer in her desk and takes out the key, before slowly getting to her feet with such obvious discomfort that I swear I can hear her bones creaking. It's as if every movement, no matter how small, requires almost herculean effort.
“You know,” she mutters, turning slowly and starting to shuffle around to join me, “just once, it would be nice if you came to the library to take out a book, Natalie. Isn't that what libraries are for?”
“I've read all the books here,” I reply, glancing over at the three bookshelves over by the wall, and their meager selection of 50's adventure novels and out-of-date reference works. “Several times.”
“You know,” she continues, leading me to the door in the corner, “you're the only person who ever comes to use the internet. If you ask me, the whole thing is unhealthy. Staring at a screen like that, trying to read from all those flashing lights. I wouldn't be surprised if Mayor Truman just decides to get rid of the whole thing soon. When the computer breaks, I wouldn't count on it getting replaced.”
“I'm really sorry to disturb you,” I tell her, wincing as I hear more cracking sounds from her ankles. “If Mayor Truman could just get the phone company to install -”
“I'm sure he's working on it. It's not his fault if those fat cats say it'd cost millions of dollars to set up the cables. Where's a town like Tulepa going to get that kind of money, huh? And what'd be the point? We managed just fine without the internet in the old days.”
“If mobile phones worked properly here, I could get onto the internet that way,” I point out. “Sometimes I feel as if someone's deliberately trying to
-”
I catch myself just in time. I know Mrs. Pemcoat, like everyone else in town, doesn't like it when I start spouting these crazy theories, so I simply wait patiently as she unlocks the door, which finally swings open to reveal a gloomy little storeroom with a desk and an old computer at the far end. The last thing I want is to find out that Mayor Truman and his friend are curious about me again. I'd rather stay well under the radar.
“Don't forget to give it time to warm up,” she reminds me, checking her watch. “And turn it off when you're done.”
“Are you worried?” I ask, as she turns to shuffle back to her desk.
“What in the world would I be worried about?” she asks.
“It's almost ten. In two hours -”
“Oh, give it a rest,” she sighs, not even looking back at me. She raises her left hand briefly, though, as if to signal that she wants not more of this talk. “People die sometimes, Natalie, that's just the way of the world. If you start looking for patterns, you'll end up going crazy. Now hurry up with that internet, if you really have to use it at all. When the machine's on for too long, I start getting a headache.”
Ducking under the low doorway and slipping into the storeroom, I can help feeling as if I'm the only person who ever comes in here. The whole cupboard smells distinctly dusty, and when I hit the button on the front of the computer I have to wait a few seconds before it slowly starts up with the sound of whirring, rattling fans. I swear, I'd have thought we'd have better internet access by now, but it's almost as if the technology in these days is worse than it was ten years ago. I remember when I was a kid, mobile phones worked just fine in Tulepa and some people even had internet access in their homes. Then the 'problems' started, as Mayor Truman puts it, and everything has been grinding to a halt ever since. Every town hall meeting reports slow progress that never seems to get anywhere, and I feel certain that Tulepa is sliding even further behind the rest of the world.
Finally, as I sit in the old, crooked swivel chair and set my camera down, the computer loads its home-screen, albeit with the sound of fans whirring more wildly than ever in the casing, and with the smell of burning dust in the air. I swear, one day this whole contraption is going to explode in my face.
“You going to be much longer?” Mrs. Pemcoat calls through to me.
“It's still turning on!” I reply.
Hearing a sigh, I can't help but smile. Fortunately the computer seems to be settling now, so I double-click on the internet browser and wait while it thinks about loading. Feeling a twinge of pain in my belly, I let out a faint gasp; those cramps are coming back, rippling through my gut as if they're trying to warn me of something. They come once a month, almost like clockwork, and there's always a little blood too. It's as if my body has started going through some kind of cycle, and as the browser finally loads, I tell myself that this time I'm definitely going to find out what's happening with my body. After all, someone else on the internet must know what's wrong with me.
PAINS IN BELLY, I type. FEMALE, FIFTEEN.
I hit the 'enter' key and wait, and finally I get a 'no results found' page.
FEMALE, SIXTEEN, I type, hoping it might make a difference.
No results.
BLOOD IN UNDERWEAR, I type, already starting to feel frustrated.
This time, as I wait for the results page to load, I glance over my shoulder to make sure that Mrs. Pemcoat isn't watching. Turning back to the computer, I see that once again that my search has drawn a blank. It's almost as if I'm the only person who's ever had this problem, as if there's something wrong with me.
Pausing, I realize it's time to try typing in the word I remember hearing many years ago, the word my parents told me didn't really exist.
PUBERTY.
I wait, and this time there's a single result from a web-page, and I click through to find the answer. To be honest, it's so rare for the search engine to actually find anything at all, I'm kind of surprised. It takes a moment for the page to load, but finally I'm presented with an entry on some kind of medical website:
Puberty is a transitional stage between childhood and adulthood. Some small, unimportant body changes may occur. It's important to simply accept what happens, and not to discuss these changes with anyone. If your local town is lucky enough to have a doctor, you can ask him for advice, but other than that there's nothing to be done. All right-thinking people simply get on with their lives and refrain from asking too many questions about delicate or private matters. Smart girls deal with these things themselves, rather than troubling others.
I read the entry through a couple of times, even though it's only a few sentences long. I was hoping for more information, although to be honest I guess I knew deep down that I wouldn't have much luck. I mean, Tulepa does have a doctor, but I've already tried talking to him about the pains in my belly and he dismissed my concerns as if I was some kind of irritating child. I even tried asking Mom, and she was the same. I guess I should just ignore my instincts and focus on other things.
“Smart girls deal with these things themselves,” I whisper, reading from the screen, “rather than troubling others.” I lean back. “Really?”
“Are you done yet?” Mrs. Pemcoat calls through.
“Almost!”
Clicking back to the search engine, I try typing in a few terms related to sudden death, especially anything connected to people dying at exactly midday. I know everyone around town tells me to stop worrying, but deep down I can't shake the feeling that somehow people shouldn't be dropping dead at the same time like this. I mean, there comes a moment when a girl has to trust her instincts instead of relying on things she's told by other people. Finding no results, I finally lean back again and sigh, staring at the screen as a sense of frustration starts to build. Sometimes, I feel as if the whole of the internet amounts to just a few hundred pages, all of which look more or less identical, all of which seems to be written in the same slightly casual tone, and none of which contains any useful information at all.
“Natalie?” Mrs. Pemcoat says after a moment. “I'm getting one of my headaches! That machine has been on for too long!”
“I'm finished,” I reply, hitting the button on the front of the computer to turn it off, before grabbing my camera and heading back out into the main part of the library. “Sorry,” I tell her, “I know I took longer than I should, I just...” Pausing for a moment, I look at Mrs. Pemcoat for a moment and realize that, even though she's an old woman now, she must have been young like me once, which means she might understand what I'm going through. After glancing around to make sure there's no-one else in the library, I head over to her and watch as she makes some notes on a form.
“What do you want?” she sighs finally.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Can I stop you?”
“It's important. It's kind of... personal.”
She looks up at me, and it's clear that she's skeptical.
“When you were my age,” I continue, already feeling another twinge of pain in my gut, “did you ever... I mean, did you ever have pains?” I put a hand on my belly. “Like, here? About once a month? Sometimes with blood?”
She stares at me for a moment, before looking at my belly with an expression of mild disgust.
“Doctor Conyne told me it's normal,” I add, “but that I shouldn't ask about it. He said there's no need to know about the body's internal processes, that I should just let it do its thing, but... It really hurts, and I'm just worried that something might be wrong with me.”
She continues to stare, before looking back down at her paperwork. “I'm sorry, Natalie,” she says curtly, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“So you never had it happen to you?”
She shakes her head.
“Oh,” I reply, genuinely surprised.
“And I'm busy,” she adds, “so I'd appreciate it if you could let me get back to work. You've already disturbed me quite enough for one morning. These curriculu
m notes won't cross themselves out, you know.”
I open my mouth to ask for more help, but I can tell I'm already pushing my luck.
“Thanks for letting me use the internet,” I mutter, but she only murmurs in response, as if she doesn't want to risk getting involved in another conversation.
I guess I can't blame her. I'm probably being very annoying.
Heading out through the main door, I stop once I'm on the steps at the front of the building. There are a few people milling about in the town square, but for the most part Tulepa is its usual quiet self. Feeling another twinge of pain, I sit down for a moment, waiting for the sensation to pass. The pain builds for a couple of minutes, clawing at my gut until I have to lean forward in an attempt to find some respite. I'm already starting to sweat, and I can tell I'm bleeding again, but the pain finally passes and I sit up straight, taking slow, deep breaths.
What's wrong with me? Am I dying?
And then I see her again. The stranger, the woman I spotted earlier, has parked her car nearby and is heading toward the hotel. Getting to my feet, I take the lens cap off my camera and head down the steps. Investigating local mysteries is an excellent way to distract myself from the pains in my gut.
Chapter Five
Holly
“It's fine,” I mutter into my phone as I look into the en-suite bathroom and see cracked tiles with some kind of mold on the edges. “It's not exactly luxury, but it'll do for tonight.”
“You've over-thinking this,” Karen replies, her voice sounding choppy over the connection. “Come on, if something bad had happened to the old guy, you'd know by now. The police or the doctor would have been in touch, that's how things work. He's obviously just busy, which by the way is a great sign. Eli was damn near a hermit ten years ago. I was worried you'd call and tell me...” She pauses. “Well, you can guess. The fact that he's alive is more than we could have hoped for.”