The Hounded

by Simon Butters

  I watched as two paramedics wheeled Eliza’s body, covered in a green sheet, into the back of the ambulance. They were not in a rush. There was no point. They slowly pulled out into the street and drove her away.

  Two officers chatted quietly to Derek and Doreen. Her father watched the ambulance drive off, stoically keeping a silent perspective. Doreen broke down into heartfelt sobs and fell to her knees on the front lawn. She looked up at me and wailed in horror.

  I hadn’t noticed it until then, but I was bawling my eyes out. I hadn’t made a sound. I just cried silently and hard. My whole body shook from the damage. Derek walked inside without a word. Doreen and I watched each other writhe in mortal agony. How could this be true?

  Eliza was dead.

  Dad helped me to the car. It was the first time I could remember him giving me a hug. It was warm and enormous. His shoulders were thick and powerful, like he could protect you from all the dangers in the world. But he couldn’t, not now. Time had seen to that.

  We waited for about half the day at the hospital. Dad didn’t mention work. I guess he must have called in and told them what happened. Old Bob must have been up to his armpits in jobs. He wouldn’t put up a fuss though. He’d get it all done, no matter what.

  Doreen finally came out to the waiting room. She took my hands and peered into my eyes. Her tears had dried away. So had mine. She’d cried them all out, I guess. There was nothing much left but the coldness of grief.

  ‘Why’d she do it?’ I asked.

  ‘I was going to ask you the same thing,’ she said, her voice throaty with decay.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Monty, please. I can’t say.’

  ‘I need to know. How did it happen?’

  Doreen covered her mouth as if willing it not to speak. But her body seemed to gain the upper hand and took control. She told me that when Eliza had gone to bed the night before, everything seemed normal. She’d done her homework, all her chores, and had laid out her clothes for the next day. Then she took a bath. They didn’t hear a sound. Doreen found her in the morning, with her life drained away. From that moment on, she couldn’t really remember anything else. Her perception of the world changed. Things happened too fast, as if time had sped up. Everything was a mystery to her again. She didn’t understand her own reality anymore, the worth of it all.

  ‘I’m sorry, Monty. I’m so sorry,’ she offered.

  ‘Sorry doesn’t bring her back,’ I said coldly.

  She let out a little gasp. How could I have been so cruel? She’d just lost her daughter. I knew the truth though; Doreen had been afraid of her all along. She didn’t understand Eliza. Then again, who was I to judge? I had been with Eliza just hours before that final act. And I had walked out on her.

  ‘We want the funeral to be small. Just family,’ she said. ‘But you’re welcome to come. I think that’s only right.’

  She turned away from me, unable to look me in the eye.

  Dad stayed with me all day. He didn’t let me out of his sight. Even when I went to the bathroom, he came in with me. He stood by me. Eventually, I got annoyed and told him to leave me alone.

  ‘Can’t do that Monty,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t watch me forever.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  He didn’t trust me, I guess. But he knew I was right; as time went on, he’d eventually have to leave me alone. And then he’d have to hope like hell nothing would happen. He’d just have to wait and see what fate would bring him. Or what it would take away.

  *

  Dad made dinner of sausages and mashed potato but neither of us ate. We stared at the plates of food and went to bed. He moved his bed closer to the hall so he could hear me in case I got up during the night.

  ‘Goodnight. Better keep the doors open,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said.

  Hope stung his voice. His throat cracked a little, upending it into a question. Was he really that fearful of what the night would bring? I thought of telling him not to worry. After all, we didn’t have a bath.

  I didn’t sleep. The night cooled the house and all the old ghosts settled, lost along with the heat of day. I thought of her in my bed, curled up warm against me, the night she came through my window. I opened the window again for her, willing her to step through those curtains. But she didn’t come. She was gone.

  ‘It’s time, Monty.’

  The dog sat in the hall. Its infectious eyes boring into mine.

  ‘Come with me,’ it said. ‘Let’s go outside. Just for a little while. It’ll be alright.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘My dad wants to see me in the morning.’

  ‘I can take you to her,’ said the dog.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ I groaned.

  ‘I can never leave you alone,’ Monty. ‘I’m part of you. I am you.’

  ‘Go away! She wouldn’t want me to go with you.’

  ‘Of course she would,’ said the dog. ‘After all, she is with me now.’

  ‘You took her?’

  ‘She came to me, as you must come to me now.’

  I was too tired to resist. A cold emptiness was all I had left. I acquiesced and slinked out of bed, still in my jocks. I knew the floorboards would give me away to my dad, snoring there with his head by the door. The dog sat inches away from him. He could have reached out and punched it away into another world. He could have protected me, but he was asleep, drifting away into a dream of his own. I slipped out my window and into the night.

  I followed the dog through Middleford, only wearing my jocks. The summer night was cool but I didn’t care. We drifted like ghosts down my street, past Eliza’s house, past Amy Fotheringham’s place, past the school and the mall and the auto shop. All of Middleford slept. Inside rows of houses, rows of people were tucked up safe in their beds. Outside, the rest of the world was keenly awake. The night never slept. Cruel things lay in wait ready to pounce.

  Time seemed to slow. The traffic lights didn’t seem to change. There was nobody around for them to signal anyway, so they just stayed put. I followed the dog into the tunnel, and disappeared into that dark maw. Part of me knew its plan then. Part of me understood how obvious it all was. The conscious part of my brain was howling in protest. It ordered me to turn around and run back to Dad, slide into his bed and tell him everything about Eliza and the dog. Talk to him! the reasonable part of me demanded. He’ll understand. He’ll know what to do. He’s right back there at the house, with his head by the hallway, snoring. Go back and wake him the hell up!

  But those calls seemed far off, from some other time and some other place. They were echoes of someone else’s life, muttered in some long dead language. I struggled to listen to those words, to understand them. The strange protests faded away, replaced by emptiness.

  The tunnel was pitch black. Still, I could just make out the shape of the dog waiting inside. I went in deeper and my eyes began to adjust. Starlight trickled in from the openings at either end. The colours ran rich. Whole other galaxies circled beyond, through those twin portals. I stood in the nothingness between all things. I could peer over the horizon. The dog was right, there was something else out there. I had been wrong to mistrust it. Eliza would be standing there waiting for me. She was inches away. All I had to do was reach out and take her hand.

  I reached into the refuge in the wall and pulled out the spearfishing gun. It had been there since I’d stashed it after scaring Tony. I felt the long, cold steel of the spear. I could be with her again, I thought.

  I turned away. I was too weak. I knew then why Martin had begged me to decide his fate. We were both cowards. Poor Martin. Poor Monty.

  ‘I can’t. I’m too weak. I’m sorry,’ I told the black dog.

  ‘That’s okay,’ said the dog. ‘Would you like some help?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  A beacon of light split the gloom. An epic rumble ground me down. A force greater than my own bore d
own upon me and I was grateful. I dropped to my knees, slicing them open on the rocks. The tracks shook. My ears thundered. A warning siren screeched. My body was devoid of energy. I had nothing left. She was moments away.

  I looked up to see the dog grinning at me. There was hunger there. This is what it wanted, to feast upon me. I touched the hot stick of blood on my knees and remembered which world I was in. Energy surged back through me. I still had some fight left. I scrambled to the refuge, seconds before the train screamed by.

  ‘Breakfast,’ called Dad.

  I came in to the kitchen wearing my overalls, ready for work, and sat down to Dad’s eggs. He wasn’t dressed yet and watched me intently from across the table.

  ‘You don’t have to go to work, Monty.’

  ‘Yeah, I do. I’ve got a car to pay off.’

  ‘Not today, you don’t.’

  I wiped up the rest of my breakfast with some bread and gulped down the coffee. I drank it a little too fast and scolded the back of my throat. I gasped in pain and ran to the kitchen sink to lap some cold water. Dad just sat there and watched. I feared he knew where I’d been in the dead of night. I hoped he didn’t know.

  I reactivated my Speedstream account to find news of Eliza’s death had exploded online. Hundreds of posts snowballed. Everyone seemed to think they were just like her. They identified with her somehow, I guess. Kids she didn’t even know posted heartfelt goodbyes, as if they’d been the best of friends. If it could happen to someone like Eliza, they said, it could happen to any one of them. Typical, I thought, still thinking of themselves. Eliza quickly became a symbol, more than a person. Leading the charge was Becky.

  Alias: @Beckstar101

  Date: Thursday December 11, 4.55PM

  I can’t believe she’s gone. Will never forget U #Eliza4ever.

  @AllegraCool

  Me too. She was the best! Love #Eliza4ever always. Please share.

  @KristalK

  #Eliza4ever My best friend for all time.

  Miss you girl #Eliza4ever.

  OMG I just saw #Eliza4ever the day before!

  Me too.

  You wouldn’t know. #Eliza4ever looked happy.

  Yeah, totally normal.

  I didn’t see this coming.

  If it can happen to #Eliza4ever it can happen to us too.

  I know how #Eliza4ever feels.

  I get that way too.

  Me too.

  We’re all just like #Eliza4ever. Speak out!

  Does anyone know when the #Eliza4ever funeral is?

  #Eliza4ever family keeping it quiet.

  They don’t want any fuss!!!

  More like a secret.

  Not fair! #Eliza4ever was our friend too!

  We deserve to say goodbye.

  I agree. What can we do?

  Tell them we have to go!

  Post your protest here #SayGoodbye.

  One hundred followers now.

  Keep up the good work #SayGoodbye.

  They have to give in soon.

  We should be there #SayGoodbye.

  It’s our funeral too.

  *

  And a thousand more posts just like these. They thought they owned her. Eliza’s death was nothing compared to their need for shared grievance. Their hollow empathy infuriated me. They turned Eliza into a commodity. She was their possession. None of the posts asked the simple question. Why?

  I asked myself this a thousand times. I watched the curtain in my room sway in the breeze. Any minute she’d step through and tell me her secrets. I’d finally understand the mystery. But the more I thought about it, the more I already knew why. The answer was bleak.

  Derek and Doreen managed to keep the location of the funeral secret, even in the face of a growing online backlash. The posts began to turn negative, as they almost always do. People didn’t like being left out; it made them feel less important about themselves, I guess. When someone had the courage to back the family’s position, they were attacked.

  Alias: @SunnyGirl

  Date: Friday December 12, 6.45PM

  If the family want to keep #SayGoodbye to themselves, let them. We should respect their wishes.

  @Beckstar101

  Get off here SunnyGirl. You don’t belong #SayGoodbye is ours!

  @Fearless22

  I agree! Keep #SayGoodbye for everyone!

  Who does she think she is?

  Have you seen her photo?

  She’s so fat.

  Ugly too.

  And stupid.

  Should top herself too.

  Then see how many of us come to your funeral!

  Follow here #GoHomeSunnyGirl

  *

  The chapel was small, a generic-looking room designed to accommodate multiple funerals in the one day. It was a simple, efficient-looking place. Everything in it spoke of orderly transition. Nothing seemed permanent, except for the worn-out furniture. I wondered who was next after Eliza. Maybe some old woman whose family had been shocked to read the will and discover she’d only left them a couple of starving cats? Or maybe it would be some middle-aged accountant, who died alone after completing his final tax return? There, I did it! he’d exclaim. My life’s work is finally finished. I balanced all those books. Uh, oh. I’m dead.

  Whoever was next, I knew it would be quick. They’d be mourned and the coffin moved out so the next dearly departed could take their place at the altar. As Dad and I entered, I realised I was the only kid from school to attend. The online protest went on right up until the morning of the funeral then suddenly petered out. Most people had given up and were now posting about some Hollywood movie star who’d gone missing during a film shoot in the Grand Canyon. Well-wishes and tributes flooded in. Eliza, and everything she symbolised, turned to electronic dust. The world had turned. She no longer trended. Everyone forgot her so quickly it made my gut churn. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry.

  Doreen had obviously neglected to inform Derek that I was coming. He kept glancing at over me during the service, as if I was some intruder. A priest stood by Eliza’s casket at the front.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the coffin. Eliza’s body was in there, just inside. She was so close, under all that polished timber, surrounded in satin silk. Her flesh and blood was cold but I wanted to race up and pull back that lid and take her in my arms. I wanted to cry into her hair one last time. Dad patted me gently on my elbow. He was there for me.

  The ceremony was religious. The priest spoke about the realm beyond and God’s greater plan. We weren’t to question His motives, he told us, but to accept the mystery of life. Whatever the reason for Eliza’s passing, she was with Him now. She was in peace. She lived on.

  The power of his words struck me like a hammer. I’d vaguely heard all this stuff before, but never really understood it. I was consumed by loss. Confronted with her death, I desperately wanted to believe every word. She would be in a better place. Yes. She would live on. She was in peace. It was all part of God’s greater plan. But it was a lie, I thought. The dog had shown me the world in which she now lived, and it was a cold and desolate place.

  There was no burial. Eliza was going to be cremated at some later time. They simply ended the service and her casket rolled away through a little door in the wall. They all turned their backs on her and went to get a cup of tea and a sandwich. I didn’t move.

  ‘Come on, Monty. Time to go,’ said Dad.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I said.

  ‘Right. I’ll go get a cuppa. See you in a tic.’

  I walked over to that little hole in the wall. It was like one of those conveyor belts you see at airports for people’s luggage. Was that how we’d treated her, like a piece of baggage to be offloaded? I peered through to see if I could catch a glimpse of some baggage handler on the other side, pulling her body out of the casket so it could be reused for the old cat lady. It was too dark. I couldn’t see a thing.

  ‘A friend of Eliza’s, I take it?’

  It was the priest.
He was younger than I thought. Perhaps it was his glasses that made him look older, and wiser, from a distance. Up close like this, he just looked like some first-year relief teacher. And they never knew a thing.

  ‘If you ever need to talk, we have a counselling service,’ he offered.

  ‘In the church?’

  ‘There’s no pressure. We offer help to anyone who needs it.’

  He offered a broad, easy smile, as if he had stood by a mirror in the seminary practising it for years. He had it down pat. He didn’t even know who I was, but he offered me that easy, knowing smile. Perhaps he was right? I wondered. I wavered for moment. I could drop by and ask for help. No pressure.

  ‘Such a waste,’ he said.

  In that split second, he destroyed all credibility. He thought Eliza’s life was a waste. Her potential had been lost. A great gift had been squandered. I knew how the story went; the consequences for her actions were eternal damnation. He didn’t have the guts to say it to her family, but that’s what he really thought. Eliza was lost to them, in this life and the next. My blood was up. I wanted to punch him in the face.

  ‘Get away from me. You don’t know shit,’ I spat.

  His reaction was wonderful. His glasses fell off and he gagged on his cup of tea. It spurted out both nostrils like two little whale spouts. The brown, milky tea stained his otherwise white collar. He glared at me as he tried to wipe it off with his hanky. I could only grin. I’d damned myself now, I thought.

  Dad drove us out of there. The gardens were verdant green and the sky rolled thick with clouds. Eliza would have liked this day, I thought. It had just the right mix of sun and gloom.

  ‘I can still see her face,’ I said to Dad. ‘I keep expecting to see her.’

  It was true. I hadn’t really taken it in yet. Eliza could have stepped out in front of the car right that second and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. It would be totally explainable. They would have got it all wrong. There was a mix-up at the hospital and some other girl with bloodstained hands had been mistaken for Eliza. She had woken up in another ward, to find a whole other family waiting for her out in the hall. But their joy turned sour when they realised she wasn’t theirs. Eliza, still in her hospital gown, had raced out of there and ran all the way to the funeral home to step out in front of our car. And we’d embrace once again. She’d cry and tell me she loved me and never leave me. And we’d take the ute up the coast.