The Locker

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  I leaned over and put my face close to his. He was trying to keep his eyes on the road, but as I kept staring at his profile, pretending to study every feature, I saw a muscle move in his cheek, and he stole a glance at me.

  “Are you blushing?” I whispered.

  No response.

  “Hmmm …” I mused. “I think maybe you are.”

  I could feel him squirm uncomfortably, and it was all I could do not to laugh.

  “I told you you were shy.” I couldn’t help sounding smug.

  His eyes shifted onto mine. That little smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  “Stay close to me like that, and I’ll show you how shy I am,” Tyler said.

  I stared at him.

  I moved back.

  I turned my face to the open window and let the cool air blow across my warm cheeks, and I heard Tyler laughing softly.’

  “Now who’s blushing,” he murmured.

  The last shred of sunlight was finally slipping away. As we followed the road out of the trees, I could see a molten glow oozing over the hillsides, and the air smelled wet and earthy. Off in the distance I could see the ruins of a barn, rotting silently away in an empty field.

  “Did Suellen really live back there in that awful place?” I asked quietly.

  Tyler didn’t answer right at first. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, slowing the car even more as we came to a steep incline.

  “It wasn’t always that bad,” he said, shifting into low gear and starting the climb. “Out here it doesn’t take long for nature to reclaim things, especially when nobody’s using them anymore.”

  “Did you ever go out with her?”

  The question popped out before I could stop it. I heard the words hanging in the air between us, but by then it was too late to do anything but feel like an idiot.

  Tyler didn’t look at me. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Once,” he said.

  I waited for him to go on. He didn’t.

  Instead he coaxed the old car over the top of the hill, and then he leaned forward, squinting through the shadows and pointing to something I couldn’t even see.

  “Look—there’s the bridge,” he announced. “Welcome to Lost River.”

  7

  The road came to an abrupt end.

  Tyler stopped the car and jumped out, walking forward onto a rickety wooden bridge and pulling back a heavy chain with a sign on it that said PRIVATE.

  “Where are we?” I asked him. We must have been riding for half an hour, at least. My ears were still ringing from the wind and the noisy engine, and I gingerly patted my head.

  “We have a summer cabin down here,” he informed me, hopping back in again. “My dad just wanted me to check on some things.”

  I craned my neck out the window as we drove slowly across the bridge. Broken boards sagged beneath the weight of the car, and in the glare of the headlights I could see what looked like a deep ravine yawning below. Shuddering a little, I drew back inside and watched as the dirt road sloped up a gentle rise, and wound through another stretch of woods, widening at last into a shadowy clearing, where it promptly dead-ended.

  “That’s our place,” Tyler said.

  I looked out at the small wooden cabin, its roof and porch and stone chimney practically swallowed by the surrounding trees. Dormer windows jutted out from the second floor, all of them heavily shuttered, and the encircling yard was tangled with weeds and dead leaves and fallen tree limbs.

  “The Taj Mahal it’s not,” Tyler added. He stopped the car and turned off the ignition, glancing over at me with a shrug. “But we like it. Once we get it cleaned up for the summer, we spend lots of time here. It’s a great place to bring friends. Lots of privacy.”

  He shoved open his door and climbed out, motioning me to follow.

  “That’s the river down there,” he said, heading around to one side of the cabin. “It’s high right now—we’ve had a lot of rain.”

  I could see now that the cabin was built at the top of an embankment. As Tyler walked to the edge, I came up behind him and gazed down into the muddy water below. A flight of wooden steps led down to a narrow dock, but I could hardly see it for all the overhanging trees. The place looked dark and spooky, and I pulled back nervously, all too conscious of the spongy ground underfoot.

  “Be careful, it’s slippery,” Tyler warned me, reaching out for my hand. “You’d think we’d be safe here, wouldn’t you, being up this far? But the truth is, a few good storms set in, and it’s nothing for that water to come right over the bank. I’ve seen it flood so bad, we’ve had to leave the car way back down the road and paddle the boat in over the bridge.”

  I couldn’t even picture the river rising this high. As Tyler let go of my hand and turned back toward the cabin, I lingered behind, taking another peek at the dock. The bank was matted with weeds and twisted clumps of tree roots, and as I stared, something slithered out of the shadows and into the murky water. Nervously I redirected my gaze to the middle of the river, where I could see a slow, lazy current swirling along. But down there along the bank the water didn’t seem to be moving at all—just lying there deep and thick and stagnant …

  Dead …

  A chill crept up my arms.

  Suddenly, more than anything else, I wanted to get back to the safety of the car.

  I started to turn, and to my horror, felt my foot slipping in the mud. Panicking, I whirled around and gasped.

  I hadn’t heard Tyler come up behind me. I thought he’d gone into the cabin.

  But now, as I locked eyes with him, I also felt something hit my arm, shoving me off balance.

  I grabbed wildly for something—anything—to hold on to.

  But there was only the wet ground dissolving beneath my shoes, and the shrill echo of my scream, and the endless rush of dank, dark air as I plunged into nothingness.

  8

  Marlee! Are you okay!”

  I might have been out for a second or two—I’m not really sure. There was just that endless sensation of falling, and the bone-jarring impact, and then everything finally began to focus again, all blurs and slow motion.

  I tried to move but couldn’t. I felt like something was trapping me—something huge and alive—and sucking me down into a bottomless hole.

  The first thing I saw clearly was Tyler sliding down the embankment after me, and I remember thinking in some weird corner of my mind that it was a miracle he was even staying on his feet at that crazy angle. The next thing I saw was his face above mine, and he looked scared to death.

  “Marlee—can you hear me? Don’t move!”

  I wanted to tell him there was no danger at all of that, I was stuck fast. But my immediate concern wasn’t the weeds or the slime or even the throbbing in my head, it was suddenly remembering that slithery thing I’d seen earlier.

  “Get me out of here!” I yelled. “I think I saw a snake!”

  “If you did, he never knew what hit him. Hang on—your foot’s caught.”

  I tried to lift myself up, but only sank back helplessly into the muck. I could feel Tyler’s fingers around my ankle, and as a terrible pressure suddenly disappeared, I saw him grin triumphantly and toss my sneaker into the water.

  “What are you doing to my shoe?” I cried, but his arms were around me now, tugging me to my feet. “I need that shoe!”

  “Forget the shoe. Can you stand up?” He loosened his hold on me, and I started to crumple. “Negative on standing. Maybe something’s broken after all.”

  I winced and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder—”

  And then it happened.

  Just like before—only this time I was right in the middle of it—trapped in the middle of it—like suddenly finding myself in a movie scene, but not being able to get out because the film’s running on fast forward and no one can stop it—

  Panic … terror … pain pain pain bursting exploding darkness surging in swallowing me—something else
—a smell again—only different this time—thick … clinging … suffocating wet slippery can’t breathe … oh, God, can’t breathe, what is it—

  “It’s murder,” Tyler was saying.

  “Wh-what?” I whispered.

  “I said it’s murder coming down that way. Next time I wish you’d use the steps.”

  I looked at him in dismay. I was standing up clutching the top of my head, and Tyler was still holding me. I was shaking all over, but I was also testing my weight on one foot, and everything was sharply back in focus. I was pressed up against his chest, and we were both covered in mud, and as I looked up into his face, a flash of memory came back to me—something hit my arm … his eyes were so dark … I didn’t know he was there …

  “You okay?” Tyler asked. “Did you hurt your head?”

  “You—” I broke off, suddenly confused. Anger and fear and pain roared through me, and I pulled back, pushing him away. “Something … something hit me.

  “Did it?” Tyler’s face was blank. “I saw you slip-ping, and I couldn’t believe it. I tried to get to you—tried to grab you, but you were already on your way down.”

  I stared at him. His clothes were filthy and torn, and there were streaks of dirt on his face. He ran a hand over one cheek, making it even worse.

  “Something pushed me,” I mumbled, and I took another step back.

  “You slipped,” he said quietly.

  I looked up into his eyes. He held my gaze with a steady one of his own, and with an effort I turned my attention to the riverbank.

  “You can’t get up the same way you came down,” he deadpanned. “Here. Hold on to me.”

  “I can do it myself,” I said.

  He didn’t argue, only reached over and took my hand, leading the way carefully through the tall grass until he was able to touch the stairs with one shoe. Then, digging in his heels, he gave me an encouraging nod and pulled gently, guiding me to solid ground. Relieved, I felt the steps beneath my feet and Tyler’s hands around my waist, boosting me up. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice anything, but a curious tingle went through me, and I ended up stumbling.

  “You’re okay,” he said, catching my elbow, steering me again. “I’m right behind you.”

  I didn’t want him to be right behind me. I especially didn’t want him right behind me when I knew my rear end was wet and covered with mud and grass stains.

  “I hope we can fix this big rip back here,” he said.

  I whirled around, and he sucked in both his cheeks, making his face clownishly solemn.

  “Joke,” he said, holding up one hand. “Really. I swear.”

  I was so glad to get to the cabin. While Tyler unlocked the door, I stood behind him, watching his quick, deft movements. I tried to remember exactly what had happened back there on the riverbank … what had happened the second before I fell … but Tyler said I was already falling when he grabbed for me … I must have felt him trying to catch me, but he missed.…

  “Are my jeans ripped?” Tyler asked, and I snapped back to attention. He was looking down at himself and frowning.

  “Sorry. What?”

  “You’re undressing me with your eyes,” he said.

  “I most certainly am not.”

  “Come on, you know you were.” He winked and stepped aside to hold open the door. “After you.”

  The cabin was surprisingly homey. At one end was a huge kitchen with a big oak table, and at the other end a cozy living room, one wall taken up by a stone fireplace. The floors were all wood, the walls paneled, and every window had a view of the trees. A wide porch stretched across the entire rear of the cabin, and when Tyler opened the back door, I could see the forest pressing right up to the steps. In one corner of the kitchen an open staircase led to the second story, where Tyler showed me the huge room full of beds and mismatched furniture.

  “As you can see, my mom’s big on hospitality.” He shrugged. “Everyone comes here to crash, so we always have plenty of sleeping space.”

  “It’s nice,” I told him. My arm was starting to hurt, and I rubbed distractedly at the torn sleeve. “Do you ever come here by yourself? Just to be alone and think?”

  “Actually, it’s the best place in the world when nobody else is here. And since you and I are neighbors now, if you ever want to come and be alone and think, be my guest.”

  “What about your parents? Won’t they mind?”

  “Of course not.” He looked surprised. “They both work during the week, and my mom babysits a lot, so she’s usually busy on the weekends. Come anytime you want. I’ll even show you where we hide the key.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the offer. “That’s really nice of you. You don’t even know me.”

  “What does that mean?” he teased. “Is there something I should know?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “Like … are you an ax murderer? A psychopath? A reform-school escapee?”

  Again I shook my head, but this time I was laughing.

  “No. None of the above.”

  “Well”—he looked me slowly up and down—“you never can tell about people. You seem harmless enough, but you can’t be too careful these days.”

  I started to nod, started to say something clever, but Tyler went over to an old dresser and began rummaging through its drawers.

  “Here,” he said, tossing me a bundle of clothes.

  “What’s this?”

  “What do you mean, what’s this?” he scolded gently. “Look at you, you’re a mess. Put these dry things on before you catch pneumonia.”

  I hesitated, staring down at the clothes in my hands. Tyler went back down the stairs, and a second later I heard him whistling as he opened and shut cabinet doors. I kept one eye on the stairs and cautiously began to undress.

  “People break in sometimes!” Tyler’s voice floated up the stairs, and I moved closer, trying to hear.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, people break in sometimes! Into the cabins! All up and down the river!”

  “Is that why we’re here?”

  “Sort of. Jimmy Frank called my dad about changing the locks before we start leaving stuff down here for the summer. We’ve had stuff stolen before.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh … radios. Tools. Fishing tackle … things like that. Most of the time it’s not worth much, but last year we lost a boat motor and some of my dad’s guns.”

  I pulled on a baggy pair of jeans and frowned as the legs billowed out around me. I slipped into the huge shirt and decided both things must belong to Tyler’s father.

  “Are you finding anything suspicious?” I called back, sliding into dry socks.

  “Usually when there’s been a break-in, it’s just transients, looking for food and a dry place to spend the night—especially if the weather’s bad!”

  Rattles, crashes, more bangs. Doors opening and closing. Windows being raised and lowered.

  “Everything looks okay to me,” Tyler announced.

  “Who’s Jimmy Frank?” I called to him, rolling my wet things together into a ball.

  “The caretaker. People only use these cabins in the summer. Jimmy Frank does anything that needs doing—repairs, maintenance, stuff like that. But last year, with the robberies and all, folks asked him to keep an eye on things during the off-season. Haven’t you met him yet?”

  “Why would I?”

  “He goes to school with us. You must have seen him in class.”

  Tyler didn’t hear me slip downstairs. I stood there watching as he climbed up on the back of the couch to check the lock on a window. His jeans were still wet, molded tight to his narrow hips, and he’d taken his shoes off and stripped to his T-shirt. His head was angled slightly back, and his hair swished back and forth across his shoulder blades like a soft black cloud. What’s the matter with you, are you crazy? What possible reason would he have for pushing you down a hill?

  While I hesitated there at the bottom of
the steps, Tyler turned and saw me, his face exploding in a giant grin.

  “Wow! You look like a clown!”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled.

  “A cute one, though. I meant a really cute clown.”

  “Are these your dad’s?” I said irritably. Great way to make an impression, Marlee. I’m sure you’ll be engraved in his memory forever and ever.

  “Actually they’re my older brother Eugene’s,” Tyler said. “He’s really fat, so he ran away from home last year and joined a traveling sideshow.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that true?”

  “Of course it isn’t true.” He gave me a chiding look and hopped back down onto the floor. “I don’t even have a brother named Eugene. Well, I can’t find a single thing going on here. I guess we’d better get back.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “Just wait in the car while I lock up.”

  Dusk had turned to full dark by now. As I sat there alone waiting for Tyler to come back, I could hear all these weird whispery sounds around me … invisible things moving through the shadows, camouflaged by the night. I wrapped my arms tight around myself and fought off a bad case of nerves. Far below me the river flowed, and an owl hooted mournfully, and the wind sighed through the trees, making them bend and sway like zombies on the loose.

  Now, why did I think of that? Why zombies?

  “Tyler?” I called.

  “Yeah! Coming!”

  He stepped out onto the porch and locked the door behind him. I finally began to relax a little when we were well on our way down the road.

  “Did you find anything?” I asked him as he fiddled with the radio.

  The light was so dim inside the car, I could barely see him shaking his head.

  “No. If anyone was there, they didn’t bother anything.”

  I nodded and leaned back into the seat. “Why do they call it Lost River?”

  For one instant Tyler’s hand was caught in the glow of the dashboard. It paused in midair as though frozen.

  “Because,” he said slowly, “it’s so deep and the undercurrents are so strong.”

  The radio sputtered with static. Tyler clicked it off.