Stereotypical bouncer, big neck and small head, came tanking through the club, eyes on fire as he grabbed Kara roughly on the arm and pulled her up. “Time for you to go.”
She knew better than to argue and stood. His grip didn’t loosen when he realized Kara wasn’t going to fight back, shoved her to the double doors.
“Don’t come back.”
In the parking lot, everything was the same. How could it be, when her world was inside out? She checked her watch. Time had stopped inside, couldn’t have only been twenty minutes. On her way back to the motel, when it became so obvious, Kara wanted to slap her forehead. Stupid, did she think Kaya could let her guard down in that kind of place? She had to talk to her away from there.
Kara double-timed until she reached her rental car in the motel’s lot, straight back to the club. She parked in the back corner, eyes fixed on the entrance, scared to blink; slid down into the seat whenever the doors opened, so just the top of her head was visible. If the bouncer saw her, he’d kick her off the lot or worse, call the cops, and then Kara might never find Kaya again.
Kara knew that once she got a chance to sit Kaya down with no distraction, she’d see that they were twins (soul mates), and would be grateful for rescuing Kaya from this; never want to leave Kara’s side. Everything that was hers was her sister’s too. They could travel, or buy houses next to each other, a hallway built connecting the two.
Hours passed, sky evolved to a darker gray, then black. Her stomach rumbled and legs got numb, but she didn’t notice.
Finally, a shift change, and Kara didn’t care anymore if she was seen. Kaya was one of the last to leave, angelic in street clothes and no makeup to hide the rose in her cheeks. She fumbled with her keys, got into an old Charger. Out of the cars in the lot, Kara didn’t figure that one, guessed the economical Honda or the white and red T-Bird. There was a lot to catch up on.
Kara counted to thirty after Kaya pulled out before starting the ignition. It didn’t matter if cars got between, Kara could see her sister through them.
Kaya pulled into the driveway of a light green and yellow house on the dubiously named Failing Street. Not far from the motel, would’ve met anyway, it was meant to be. Kara parked across the street, under a wide willow, watching as her sister went in and lights turned on in succession.
Kara chain-smoked the rest of her pack before she worked up the nerve. Now or never, as she threw the last butt into the street, couldn’t sit here all night. Deep breath and she walked up the porch steps. Knocked and rang the bell, did it again to be sure.
When Kaya threw the door open, Kara saw how much more breathtaking she was up close, dyed bright auburn hair (must have had it straightened). Barefoot, wearing pink yoga pants and a tank top, smoking, Kaya was more elegant than any Renaissance painting or Greek statue. Split second before she recognized Kara. “You. How the fuck did you find out where I live?”
“I followed you.”
“You’re crazy. I’m calling the police.”
Combination of panic and the adrenaline, Kara put her hand on the door and leaned into it. “Please, hear me out.”
Kaya sucked on her cigarette. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do.”
Kara shook her head.
“We talk on the porch.”
“Of course.”
Kaya stepped into the night chill, shivering. “What do you want to tell me? Make it quick.”
Kara wished for another smoke, rubbed the fingers of her left hand together. “You’re my sister, my twin. You were kidnapped when we were four.”
“We look nothing alike, and I wasn’t snatched. My parents never hurt nobody. I think I’d remember.”
“Look at my eyes, mouth, hands. Don’t you see that they’re the same as yours?”
Kaya shook her head, impatient. “No, they’re not. I heard you out. Now, leave me alone. If you come by the strip club or here again, the cops will arrest you before you know you’ve been spotted.” She turned to go inside.
Kara couldn’t lose her now, grabbed her by the shoulder and whipped her around to make her listen, using all the force she had to make Kaya know how important this was. Kaya slammed into the doorframe, absorbing the energy of both their weight. Corner caught Kaya on the perfect angle at the base of her skull. Crumpled like Kara had inside when Kaya rejected her.
She wasn’t breathing, and Kara stood over her, very still, as she watched Kaya shiver a death shake, half-lidded eyes dull.
Kara knew she should be upset, but instead there was an overwhelming sense of relief. She’d never convince Kaya, rejection of all rejections, after spending so many years searching for her. Glad it was now, before Kara hated her. Kaya must have been brainwashed to have no memory of the kidnapping, whoever they were must have been smart.
Kara looked around. No one out for an evening stroll or looking through their front windows this late, no sound at all; even the crows were sleeping. Could’ve been the only beings on the planet as she dragged Kaya inside, surprised at how heavy she was.
Kaya lived alone in the house, Kara gathered from a quick tour; surprised she liked basketball, a poster of some guy mid-dunk, Blazers in red and black against white. Rifled through the closets for a duffel bag, something to put Kaya in, found nothing bigger than a few overnight suitcases. She kept looking over, expecting Kaya to sit up and bum a smoke, telling Kara she believed her now.
Reminded herself that she did the right thing, there was no other choice; what would she do with herself if Kaya closed the door in her face, leaving her in the cold?
Found a box of black garbage bags. She could probably fit Kaya in one of those, if she folded her into the fetal position. Once she got Kaya in the car, what then? Didn’t know where to go, could be driving in circles until the sun came up looking for isolation. Her stomach tightened at the idea of getting caught. Think outside the box.
She flipped on the backyard light switch, all dirt with tall pine board planks for a fence. Kara tested the dirt, too hard; she’d never get more than a few feet down. Wished she had thought this through. Kara was about to leave the body in the living room and split town before they could figure out it was her, when the flood lamp shone a halo down on the answer to her problems: the huge compost heap, more than big enough to bury Kaya.
Kara found a small hand shovel under the sink, took longer than she thought it would digging a hole; manure covering her bottom half, filling her shoes so that her socks squished. Back in the house, grabbed Kaya’s waxy, cold wrists and pulled; cleaned the mess she tracked in later. Managed a few inches at a time, grunting as she angled Kaya through the house; bumped her into the table, corners, oven. Kara had a blissful smile on her face for the first time, as she knew what she was meant to do.
Sun rising when she got Kaya in and covered up. Back inside, she showered and put on a pair of yoga pants and tank top (snug). Before she went to bed, she switched Kaya’s license with hers. Knowing all she did about slipping in and out of personalities, this would be easy.
ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS
CHRIS A. BOLTON writes the webcomic SMASH (www.SmashComic.com), which he cocreated with his artist brother Kyle. He created, wrote, and directed the webseries “Wage Slaves” (www.myspace.com/wageslaveseries). He lives in Portland, where he works for an online bookseller of certain renown.
BILL CAMERON is the author of Lost Dog and Chasing Smoke, both Portland-based mysteries. His stories have appeared in Spinetingler Magazine, the Dunes Review, and in the anthology Killer Year, edited by Lee Child. Lost Dog was a finalist for the 2008 Rocky Award and the 2008 Spotted Owl Award. Cameron lives in Portland, where he is currently writing his third novel.
DAN DEWEESE’S stories have appeared in various journals, including Tin House, New England Review, Washington Square, and Pindeldyboz. The recipient of an Oregon Literary Fellowship and twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize, he serves as coordinator of the Writing Center at Portland State University.
MONICA DRAKE
is the author of the novel Clown Girl. Her short stories and essays have been published in the Northwest Review, Three Penny Review, Nerve.com, and other places. She teaches writing at the Pacific Northwest College of Art, and has lived in Oregon since Lewis and Clark made their big trip west, more or less.
ARIEL GORE is the author of seven books, including Atlas of the Human Heart, The Traveling Death and Resurrection Show, and How to Become a Famous Writer Before You’re Dead. For more information, visit arielgore.com.
JUSTIN HOCKING lives in Portland and is Executive Director of the Independent Publishing Resource Center (www.iprc.org). His fiction and articles have appeared in Open City, Foulweather, Thrasher Magazine, Transworld Snowboarding, Concrete Wave Magazine, Travel Oregon, and the Nieve Roja Review. He coedited the best-selling anthology Life and Limb: Skateboarders Write from the Deep End, and is currently at work on a memoir about surfing in New York City.
JOËLLE JONES is the Russ Manning Award–nominated artist of Token, a young adult graphic novel written by Alisa Kwitney. She has collaborated with author Jamie S. Rich on numerous short stories and two full comics projects—the romantic puzzler 12 Reasons Why I Love Her and the hardboiled crime tale You Have Killed Me—in addition to their story in this volume.
KAREN KARBO is the author of How to Hepburn: Lessons on Living from Kate the Great. Her three novels have all been named New York Times Notable Books of the Year; The Stuff of Life, her memoir about her father, was a People Magazine Critic’s Pick and winner of the Oregon Book Award. Her many essays, reviews, and articles have appeared in Outside, Elle, Vogue, Esquire, Redbook, More, Self, Sports Illustrated for Women, Entertainment Weekly, the New Republic, the New York Times, and Salon.com.
MEGAN KRUSE is a fiction and nonfiction writer based out of Portland. Her work has appeared in Oyez Review, Bellingham Review, Fiddlehead, Oregon Literary Review, Phoebe, Gertrude, and the first volume of Vespertine Press. Kruse has been the recipient of residency grants from the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center in Nebraska and the Ragdale Foundation of Illinois, as well as an Oregon Literary Arts Fellowship.
GIGI LITTLE is the author/illustrator of two decidedly un-noir children’s picture books, Wright Vs. Wrong! and The Magical Trunk (both published under the name Gigi Tegge). She spent fifteen years in the circus as a professional clown and a lighting director, and she can spin a mean lasso. Now living in Northwest Portland, she’s a longtime member of Tom Spanbauer’s Dangerous Writing community and is currently working on a novel.
LUCIANA LOPEZ is the pop music critic at the Oregonian in Portland. She has lived in Japan and Brazil, and speaks mediocre Japanese and decent Portuguese. Her writing has appeared in several journals and anthologies.
JAMIE S. RICH, in addition to his graphic collaborations with Joëlle Jones, is the author of several novels, including The Everlasting and Have You Seen the Horizon Lately? (featuring a cover by Jones). His other comics work includes the series Love the Way You Love and Lying Down. Rich posts his words online at confessions123.com.
KEVIN SAMPSELL is a small press publisher and bookstore employee living in Portland. His writing has appeared widely in newspapers, websites, and literary journals. He is the editor of The Insomniac Reader and the author of Beautiful Blemish, Creamy Bullets, and the forthcoming memoir, The Suitcase.
JONATHAN SELWOOD is the author of the dark comedy The Pinball Theory of Apocalypse. Like all native Oregonians, Sel-wood was born in California. He enjoys talking very loudly when intoxicated, composting kitchen scraps, excessively rolling his Rs when ordering burrrrrritos … using ellipses …
FLOYD SKLOOT has published fifteen books, most recently the memoir The Wink of the Zenith: The Shaping of a Writer’s Life, the poetry collection The Snow’s Music, and the novel Patient 002. His awards include three Pushcart Prizes and a PEN USA Literary Award; his work has appeared in The Best American Essays, The Best American Science Writing, The Best Food Writing, and The Best Spiritual Writing.
ZOE TROPE, Portland’s own pseudonymous, fat, queer redhead, was born in 1986. Her high school memoir of suburban love and loathing, Please Don’t Kill the Freshman, was published when she was seventeen years old. Since then, her writing has appeared in many newspapers, magazines, and anthologies, including Sixteen: Stories About That Sweet and Bitter Birthday and Northwest Edge III: The End of Reality. She lives, works, drinks, bakes, bikes, and writes in Portland.
JESS WALTER is the author of five books, including The Zero, a finalist for the 2006 National Book Award in fiction and Citizen Vince, winner of the 2005 Edgar Award for best novel. He has been a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, the ITW Thriller Award, and the PEN USA Literary Award in both fiction and nonfiction. His books have been New York Times, Washington Post, and NPR “Best Books of the Year” and have been published in eighteen languages.
KIMBERLY WARNER-COHEN is a Portland transplant and the author of Sex, Blood and Rock ’n’ Roll. She is currently working on her next novel.
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Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Introduction
PART I: BLOODLINES
Portland Noir Page 22