by Amy Cross
"I have to get to work," I say, getting off the stool and heading to the door.
"Darper Danver," she says suddenly.
I stop and turn back to stare at her.
"That got you interested, huh?" she continues with a grin. "Darper Danver. Fucked-up name, isn't it? Sounds like something from a kid's story. Hell, maybe that's exactly what it is. I looked online and tried to find it, but I couldn't, and then it occurred to me that maybe it was from a story that wasn't published." She stares at me, and it's clear that she knows more than she's letting on. "It's a weird name alright," she says, "and the weirdest thing is, it's all over town. I've seen it scratched into fences, and carved into trees... I even saw it up at the cabin. In fact, come to think of it, there were lots of examples up there. It really seemed to be concentrated around that place."
"You don't know what you're talking about," I reply.
"Why don't you fill me in?" At that moment, her phones buzzes and she pauses to check a message. "Speaking of being filled in, that was my little toy boy. He's like a puppy, so eager to please. It's fun, but I have to admit, I prefer men who've got a bit of experience. I've never been one of those people who feel the need to take a younger lover. I always think it's more fun if there's a little more equality." She pauses. "So. Darper Danver. I have to be honest, Fisher, I expected to get a reaction when I said the name to you, but I never expected you to actually look scared. What the hell's wrong, man? Who is this Darper person?"
"No-one," I reply, determined to get her to stop asking dumb questions. "It's just a name from a story. That's all."
"And yet there's such fear in your eyes," she continues. "Come on, Fisher. We've known each other for a long time. Don't you think you can trust me? Maybe it'd help if you share the pain a little."
"There's no pain to share," I reply. "Don't get involved in this -"
"I'm already involved," she says firmly, as her phone buzzes again and she glances at her latest message. "I didn't choose to be involved, but I was dragged into the whole mess when my little brother was butchered in that cabin. Ever since then, I've had no choice other than to be very much involved in whatever's going on around here." She pauses for a moment. "Who's Darper Danver? Nate told me it's some kind of character in a bunch of stories written by their mother, but characters from stories don't carve their names into trees, do they?" She pauses again. "And don't try to tell me that you don't know, or that it's none of my business, because I know damn well that you do know, and I hope you understand that I won't stop until I get to the bottom of whatever's going on around here."
"There's nothing to get to the bottom of," I reply, heading to the door. "You're on a hiding to nothing."
"Then tell me anyway," she says, following me. "If it's so unimportant, you might as well tell me the truth. I'm not an idiot, Fisher. Maybe I can help. Maybe we can put aside our differences and work together."
"You really can't," I say as I push the door open and walk out into the parking lot. I just need to get the hell away from her, but she seems to be determined to keep up with my every step. "You're messing around with something you don't understand," I continue. "Darper Danver's just a name that we used to mention a few times. It's from some dumb stories Cassie's Mom used to write, and Cassie was keen on them, but that's all that ever happened. It's written on the trees around the cabin because that's where we used to hang out. We were bored, so sometimes we carved the name into things. I know it sounds dumb, but that's because it is dumb." As I reach my truck, I turn back to face her. "We were kids. We did dumb things all the time. It's really not going to help if you try picking apart every irrelevant factor."
"Irrelevant, huh?" she replies, and I can see from the knowing look in her eyes that she hasn't bought a word I said. I've known Becky Madison long enough to be absolutely sure that she's going to cause trouble. "We'll see. If there's nothing to the whole thing, I guess you won't mind if I poke around a little, will you?" She takes a step back. "Just remember, Fisher. If you ever want to talk, about anything at all, I'm a good listener. I'd love to get together for a drink or two some time, so we can compare notes. I might even have a few things to tell you too... Things concerning your precious Cassie Briggs."
"I really don't have anything to say to you," I reply firmly, as the first few drops of rain start to fall.
"Whatever," she says with a smile. "If you change your mind, I'll be at the bar on Main Street tonight from about eight. Drinking alone, I guess. Always a healthy sign. You're welcome to drop by if you're getting desperate, though."
As she turns and walks away, I'm left to wonder what - exactly - she meant with that last comment. It's clear that she's going to start sticking her nose into the whole Darper Danver situation, which is only going to make everything worse. I was a fool to think that I could ignore Darper and pretend that this isn't my problem. The truth is, with Darper back in town, there's only one thing left for me to do. I have to go and see Cassie, and I just have to make sure that we're both strong enough to do the right thing. Five years ago, we let things spiral out of control because we were too scared to face the truth about Darper. We can't afford to make the same mistake again.
And All Your Armies, Dust part II
Becky Madison
"You went where?" my mother asks, turning from the stove and staring at me as if I've just said something utterly horrifying.
"What's the big deal?" I ask, taking a puff on my cigarette as I wait for lunch to be served. "It's just a cabin. It's four walls, a floor and a roof, and there's nothing else there." I turn to Milly and Abe, who are picking at the sandwiches my dear old mother prepared for them. "It's the twenty-first century, right? We ain't scared of the dark no more."
Abe frowns.
"What?" I ask, taking another puff. When he fails to reply, I turn and look over at the window. The rain is really starting to come down now, which means I probably won't head back out to the cabin. I guess I'll deal with a few errands in town instead.
"I'm not talking about being scared of the dark," my mother says, clearly flustered. "It's just so morbid! That damn place should have been knocked down years ago!"
"Language, Ma!" I reply with a grin. "You'll upset our guests." Glancing over at Milly and Abe, I realize that they're staring at me as if they don't really trust me. "I guess you're not really guests," I mutter, "seeing as you're here all day every day."
My phone buzzes, and I see that it's yet another message from Nate Briggs. The poor asshole seems totally besotted, which I guess is useful. Checking the message, I find that he thinks he might have trouble finding the Darper Danver stories in the basement since there's apparently some journalist at the house. I quickly type out a message, asking him what he means.
"You have to promise me you won't ever go up there again!" my mother continues. "Promise me, Becky! The woods aren't safe! You never know what kind of perverts might be out there. That's what perverts do, you know. They wander around, looking for people who let their guard down!"
"You've never met a pervert in your life," I mutter. "Not that you're aware of, anyway. I'm sure there are plenty around this crumby little town, but they're too lazy to leap out from behind a bush. They probably just sit around looking at stuff online."
"I read the newspapers!" she replies. "I know what the world's like, Becky, and I know it's dangerous! Anyway, why did you want to go up there? What possibly reason could you have for visiting the place where your brother..." Her voice trails off, and after a moment she turns back to the stove. "I've got half a mind to get a can of petrol and go up there myself. Some places should be torn down when evil things have happened within their walls. There's no way that cabin can ever be used again, not by decent people. It's not right that it's still up there!"
"It's old," Abe says between mouthfuls of soup. "That place has been there for centuries. My grandfather told me stories about the woman who built it. Shoulda been torn down a long time ago."
"What kinda stories?" I ask.
"Ghost stories," he replies. "Truth is, that ain't a place anyone should ever go. There's evil there, in the walls. It was a bad place before everything that happened with Bobby, and it's a bad place now." He pauses for a moment. "You might think I'm a dumb old man, but when you get to my age, you start to feel these things. Places have memories, just like people do. Some people, their souls burn brighter than others, and even after the flames are out, there's smoke in the air. Sometimes that smoke lingers a long time, and you wanna avoid it."
"Huh," I say, realizing that far from being a source of useful information, Abe's actually just an old crank. "Well, if I need help with a ghost, I'll let you know."
"Someone should take matters into their own hands," my mother says.
"So now you're advocating arson, huh?" I say with a smile. Turning to Abe, I see that his sour face is as humorless as ever. "She doesn't understand my plan," I say after a moment. "Poor old Ma, she doesn't realize that I'm working on something really big. Pretty soon, all the pieces are gonna slot into place and everyone'll be amazed that I could pull off something so huge. Seriously, I'm a genius. I know that's an immodest thing to say, but I can't help it. If you could see all the different strands I'm pulling together..."
Abe frowns again.
"Never mind," I mutter. "I ain't got time to sit around here all day. I've got a few more things to do before the plans are all fixed, but..." I glance over at my mother. "Hey, Ma. I don't wanna say too much in front of your pals, but I thought you might like to know that certain plans are moving forward nicely."
"What plans would those be?" she asks, focusing on the stove.
"The stuff we talked about the other day," I continue. "I'm sure you'll remember if you think really hard. Hell, it's not like we ever talk about anything else, is it?" I watch the back of my mother's head, and I know damn well that she understands what I'm talking about. Glancing at Abe and Milly, I can see that they're curious, and I kinda enjoy teasing them a little. "Don't worry, Ma," I continue, "I'm well advanced with everything. I'd say more, but the walls have ears around this place."
My phone buzzes again, and once again it's a message from Nate. This time, he tells me that Cassie is working with some writer from New York. It seems the little bitch is planning to cash in on everything that happened to her. I have to admit, for a moment, I feel as if I wanna smash the phone against the wall and storm straight over to the Briggs house. Why the hell does that little whore think she can make a profit by telling more lies about Bobby? Unfortunately, I figure I should keep quiet and not let the others know about all of this. Not yet, anyway.
"I hope you're going to be sensible," my mother says calmly, placing a bowl of fresh soup on the table in front of me. "Sometimes the past belongs in the past, Becky. It might be wiser to move on. Life goes forward, not backward, and it's useless trying to go against the current. You'll only cause yourself more heartache."
"What's wrong?" I ask, aware that Milly and Abe are listening to every word of our conversation. "You worried I might grab a steak-knife and go do something dumb?" I watch as my mother takes two more bowls of soup and sets them in front of the two old farts on the other side of the table. She's clearly trying to ignore me, but there's no way I'm going to let her act all superior after her efforts in the rain the other night. "There's nothing for you to worry about," I continue. "I've got everything covered."
I wait for a reply, but she seems to have decided that she'd rather stay silent.
"Do you want to say grace?" Milly asks, turning to Abe.
"Maybe Rebecca would like the honor," he replies, glancing at me. "After all, it's been so long since she was last here."
"Actually, I'm off," I say, getting to my feet. "Sorry, Ma. Lunch looks great, but I'm watching my weight. Anyway, I've got a few things to be doing. I can't sit around twiddling my thumbs all day."
"You need to eat!" she says, looking a little hurt.
"I'll grab something healthy on the road," I reply, stepping over to her and planting a kiss on her cheek before heading out the door.
Once I'm outside, I pause on the porch for a moment and re-read that last message from Nate. The idea of Cassie Briggs telling her sob story to a journalist is enough to make my blood boil. Still, I figure I can turn the situation around and make it a more positive experience. If there's a journalist in town, looking to produce some kind of glamor piece about Briggs and her sob story, I think it might be time for someone to introduce a conflicting viewpoint. After buttoning my coat, I run across the driveway and quickly get into my car. It's a foul day, but I guess there's no rest for the wicked. Cassie's obviously busy trying to rehabilitate her reputation, but fortunately I'm pretty sure I know how to make sure things don't go her way.
Fisher Benhauser
"She's asleep," says Cassie's mother, eying me suspiciously as she stands in the doorway. "I'd rather not disturb her. She's very tired and she needs her rest."
"This can't wait," I say firmly. "Please, Mrs. Briggs. You have to let me see her."
"I'm sorry -"
"She might be in trouble," I continue, interrupting her. "There's something I need to tell her, and it can't wait. I'll only be a few minutes, but I'm not leaving until you let me see her."
Glancing out at the street, she seems for a moment to be worried that we're being watched. "I'm sorry," she says eventually, turning back to face me, "but I can't let you come inside, Fisher. Please don't ask me to explain, there are far too many reasons. Just go home and forget about everything. Forget about Cassie." With that, she tries to push the door closed, but I put my foot in the way.
"I need to see her," I say firmly. "This is important. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't a matter of life and death."
"Why can't you just leave her alone?" she replies, keeping her voice low. "You've moved on with your life, and that's all well and good, but don't come around and expect to cause trouble. You didn't wait for her, and that's your choice, but -"
"Wait for her?"
"You know damn well what I mean," she hisses.
I open my mouth to argue with her, but I know there's no point. Besides, this is something I really don't want to discuss right now, and definitely not with Cassie's mother.
"She's signed an exclusive deal with a New York publisher," she continues, "so if you think you can talk to her about what happened, you're wrong. You'll have to buy the book, along with everyone else." She pauses for a moment. "She's told the truth, you know. Everything. She's told the ghost writer what really happened to Bobby Madison."
"I doubt that," I reply.
"She has! She's finally admitted everything, and it's all going to be in the book. All the details. The truth's finally coming out. Can you believe it? After all these years, she finally decided to talk about it." She stares at me for a moment. "What's wrong, Fisher? You look a little scared. Don't you want the truth to come out?"
"I don't even know what the truth is," I reply, starting to worry that I might be too late.
"Then leave," she says firmly. "This is nothing to do with you, Fisher. Please, just leave."
"Believe me," I reply, "I don't want to be here. I want to keep as far away from Cassie as possible, but some things are just too important."
"Just give me a message, then," she replies. "I'll pass it on when she wakes up."
I pause for a moment, and then finally I push her out of the way and hurry into the house.
"I'll call the police!" she shouts, trying to pull me back as I head to the stairs. "You can't come in here, Fisher! You're trespassing on private property!"
"Call the cops if you want," I reply, heading up the stairs. "I'll be gone by the time they get here."
"Fisher!" she shouts, hurrying after me. "Stop! Nate! Wake up!"
Ignoring her, I make my way to Cassie's room and push the door open. The entire room is shrouded in darkness, so I head to the window and pull the drapes open before turning to look at Cassie's bed.
"We need to -" I s
tart to say, before pausing for a moment.
She's not here.
"Get out of this house immediately!" Mrs. Briggs shouts, storming into the room before pulling up short as soon as she sees that Cassie's bed is empty. "There's a..." She pauses, clearly shocked. "Cassie?" she asks, running across the room and pulling the sheets away, before kneeling down and checking under the bed. After a moment, she looks over at me, and I can see the concern in her eyes.
"Where is she?" I ask.
"She was here," she replies. "She was sick, so I told her to get some rest. She came up to sleep, I thought she was still here..."
"What do you mean? How was she sick?"
"She had a fever," she explains, "and she was tired. I thought it was nothing..."
"How long has she had the fever?" I ask.
Getting to her feet, Mrs. Briggs hurries to the door.
"How long has she had the fever?" I ask again, running after her and grabbing her by the arm. "It's important. A day? Longer?" At that moment, I spot the name Darper Danver carved into the door-frame. Damn it, I'd been hoping against hope that somehow I was wrong, but there can no longer be any doubt. Darper's coming back.
"Just a day or so," Mrs. Briggs replies. "She was so weak, though. There's no way she could have walked out of the house. She was sweating, and she didn't seem like she was quite herself. I thought it was just a case of flu, maybe something she picked up in prison, so I told her she needed to rest. Oh God, why didn't I call a doctor? Why didn't I come up and check on her sooner?" She pauses for a moment. "I have to call the police. She could be in danger. It's pouring with rain out there, she could die of exposure!"
"I'll find her," I say, rushing out of the room and making my way downstairs. I head through to the kitchen and then down to the basement, determined to make absolutely certain that there's no sign of her. Deep down, however, I already know that there's no way Cassie's still in the house. If she's got the same sickness she had last time, she'll already be on the move and she'll end up at the cabin. She might not take the most direct route, though. She's probably confused, and the fever might be making her delirious.