by Amy Cross
“Did she ever...” There are tears in my eyes, and I feel as if I'm about to throw up. “Did she ever say anything that made you think she'd...”
He shakes his head, while still staring at the arm.
“There has to be an explanation,” I stammer. “There must -”
Before I can finish, I hear footsteps again. I turn, expecting to find the driver coming back this way, but there's no sign of anyone. A moment later, I realize the footsteps are coming from the other side of the truck.
Ducking down, I see that there's someone around there, walking calmly away toward the dark trees in the distance.
“It was him,” Luke says, stepping away from the truck as sirens start to ring out in the distance. “He was here. He came back for us. First Marie, then Amanda. He finally came back!”
“Wait!” I yell.
Running along the side of the truck, I reach the front just as the driver sits on the grass, talking to someone on the phone. I make my way around the front, but I stop suddenly as I see that the cab section is covered in fresh, dripping blood. For a moment, all I can do is stare at the horrific sight, and it's clear that Amanda's body must have exploded when the truck hit. Realizing that I still have to catch the man who was on the other side of the road, however, I run around and look for any sign of him, but now he's gone. I run to the spot where he must have been standing, but it's as if he was never here in the first place.
The sirens are getting closer. Sirens mean police. Despite my shock at everything that just happened, I suddenly realize that I have to get out of here before they find me.
Chapter Twelve
There are still police and ambulances everywhere by the time the sun comes up. Television news crews have arrived, too, with reporters broadcasting breathlessly about an apparent suicide on the freeway, and a long line of traffic is now stretching to the horizon thanks to the blocked road. Keeping well back, I watch from the street as several police officers head into Amanda's house. With so many bystanders all around, nobody even notices me.
Finally I spot Luke and Carl heading back to the car, and I slip through the crowd until I reach them.
“Where the hell have you been?” Carl asks, grabbing my arm. “The police need to talk to you, Emily! They need to know what you saw!”
“I saw the same as Luke,” I reply, slipping away from his grip. “They really don't need to waste their time.”
“You took off as soon as the cops got close,” Carl continues, stepping in front of me. “What's wrong? Are they looking for you?”
“Of course not, I just -”
“So what the hell's going on with you, anyway?” he asks, and I can see from the look in his eyes that he's genuinely concerned. “You bolted. You didn't just wander off, you literally bolted to avoid the cops. That's not normal behavior, Emily, so what gives? Are you some kind of fugitive? Is that it?”
Turning, I see that Luke is already at the car. He hasn't said a word yet, but his hands are trembling as he tries to get the door unlocked.
“So let's go back and find the officer I just spoke to,” Carl continues, grabbing my arm again. “If you've got nothing to hide, Emily, there's no reason for you not to help out.”
“Can you just leave it?” I ask, stepping away from him. “I have my own reasons. Besides, it's clear they're treating this as a suicide, and why wouldn't they? That's exactly what it looks like.”
“You're hiding something,” Carl replies, wagging a finger in my face. “You might fool the others, but I'm onto you.”
Figuring that there's no point arguing with him, I turn and head over to Luke, just as he finally gets the door open.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He glances at me, but I can tell he's too upset to speak. Instead, he climbs into the car, and I immediately hurry around to the other side. Fortunately the passenger-side door is open, so I slip into the seat next to him, but he seems completely lost for words. I wait, hoping he might say something, but for a moment we sit in complete silence. In my mind's eye, I see the truck rushing into Amanda, and those few seconds are repeated over and over again until finally I look down at my hands and try to think of anything else.
“We both know what happened,” Luke says finally.
I turn to him.
“Let's not even...” He pauses, and there are tears in his eyes. “Whatever this thing is, it went for Marie and then when that didn't work, it went for Amanda. I don't think there's any doubt that it'll be coming for the rest of us next.”
“Why would it do that?” I ask. “This whole thing sounds -”
“You don't believe in it,” he continues. “Fine, I get that. The whole Chanciechaunie thing is just garbage to you, but -”
“I just -”
“I have a child!” he adds. “Do you understand that? I can't let her go through the same thing that happened to me when I was her age. If it was just me, I'd say we go find this bastard and we make him pay, but I have to think about Alice.”
“I get that,” I reply. “I just -”
“Carl's right,” he continues. “Your reaction when the police came... I'm not going to ask you to explain, because I don't think for one moment that you'd actually tell me. But whatever's going on with you, that's your business, and right now I think I just have to take Alice and get the hell away from here.”
“Sure, but -”
“And I won't be giving you my contact details.”
I open my mouth to reply, before realizing what he means. “You think this is somehow my fault?” I ask, shocked. “Luke, I just happened to show up in town and -”
“It's a hell of a coincidence,” he replies, interrupting me. “For twenty years, none of us were troubled by this creature again. Then you show up, and less than forty-eight hours later Amanda's dead. Believe what you want, Emily, but the truth seems pretty obvious to me. Something was stirred up when you arrived, something that maybe none of us can understand, but I have to think about Alice right now. She's the only thing that matters anymore.”
“I guess I can't argue with that,” I reply, realizing that if I was in his position, that's exactly what I'd do. “Do you have somewhere you can take her?”
“I think so,” he continues. “Somewhere I don't think anyone will ever be able to find us. I just -”
Suddenly he looks in his rear-view mirror.
Turning, I look back and see that Carl is talking to two cops.
“Do you want to get out of here before they come and talk to you?” Luke asks.
I turn to him. “It's not what you think,” I stammer. “I'm not a bad person, I haven't done anything wrong, I just -”
Before I can finish, he puts the car in gear and starts driving away, before Carl has a chance to lead the police over to us.
“You don't have to tell me,” Luke says, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “When they inevitably ask me about you, I'll say I barely even knew your name. In return, please don't get me caught up in whatever mess you're dealing with. For Alice's sake, I can't afford that.”
“Sure,” I reply, leaning back in the seat. “I understand. Just let me out at my car, and I won't bother you again.”
***
Later that day, once Luke has dropped me off near my car and headed home to start packing, I find Marie sitting outside her apartment building, as if she's scared to go inside.
“Everyone's scattering,” she explains, with tears in her eyes as I make my way over to join her. “The group's breaking up.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.
“They don't get it,” she replies, forcing a sad smile. “They're all looking for patterns, but there's one thing they haven't noticed. Chanciechaunie almost never strikes twice in the same town. So if you ask me, right now Redfield is the safest place for any of us to be. Luke and Carl and the others are crazy for heading off and looking for somewhere else to hide. If he wants them, he'll find them.”
“So you're staying?” I ask.
>
She nods.
“I'm hitting the road too,” I continue, taking a seat next to her. “I don't like sticking around in one place for too long.”
“You're running from something?”
I open my mouth to tell her that no, of course I'm not running, but I guess there's no longer any need to lie.
“It's okay,” she says with a smile. “I'm not one of those people who always need to know everything. If you've gotta go, you've gotta go.”
“It's complicated.”
“I'm staying home,” she continues. “This is home now, anyway. I don't think he'll strike here again, and if he does...” She pauses, and now her smile seems a little sadder. “You can't run forever. I've got my paintings and I've got my ways of coping, and I don't think I'd be very good at living life on the road, constantly moving from one place to the next.”
“You get used to it,” I mutter.
“Besides, I can't drive.”
“That could be a problem.”
“He was here last night,” she continues, with a hint of grit in her voice. “I don't know if you believe me, but I promise he was here in Redfield last night, and he took Amanda. It wasn't like the times I had nightmares about him, when I ended up waking in the middle of the night and trying to pain this face. This time it was real, this time he was really here. You'll never convince me otherwise.”
“I wouldn't even try,” I tell her. “I saw him myself. Twice, I think.”
“And you accept now that he's...” She pauses. “You know the legend of Chanciechaunie, don't you?”
“I've heard stories.”
“Do you believe them?”
“They're a little difficult to take seriously,” I reply. “I've never been a great believer in that sort of thing, so it's very hard to think that the person who killed my son could be...”
My voice trails off.
“A centuries-old demon?” she suggests.
“I don't think I'm quite ready to accept that yet,” I tell her. “Call me crazy, but I'm going to cling a little longer to the idea that whoever's behind this, it's someone a little more... real.”
“You don't want to accept that you're at the end of your search?”
“I still have some more places to try,” I continue, even though deep down I'm worried that she might be right. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I stopped living on the road like this, so I guess I have to keep going. “Don't worry about me,” I add. “I still have a lot to do.”
“That's fine,” she mutters, getting to her feet and stepping toward the building's front door. “Keep in touch, though. And please, when you finally realize you're wrong, let me know.”
With that, she heads inside, leaving me sitting alone on the bench for a moment. Staring at the spot on the grass where I first saw the figure last night, I briefly allow myself to contemplate the possibility – however insane it might seem – that I really did encounter some kind of otherworldly creature. The idea is certainly tempting, since it would fill in so many gaps, but I still can't quite let myself take the easy route. Somehow, this mess has to have a more grounded explanation.
I'm not ready to believe in monsters yet.
A few minutes later, once I'm back at my car, I spot a man sweeping the steps of the church. I glance over at him, but I quickly see that it's not the priest I met the other day. I should just drive away, I know that, but instead I wander over and look up at the church's wooden door.
Sometimes I wish I could stop somewhere for more than a few days. I'm not sure what's more tiring. Chasing whoever's behind these deaths, or being chased by Craig and his hired hands.
“It's open,” the man says suddenly, smiling at me. “They just keep the door shut 'cause they want to save on the heating bill.”
“I can understand that,” I reply, before realizing that there's no point in going inside. I haven't been into a church since Charlie's funeral, and this doesn't feel like the right moment to change that fact. Figuring I should just get going, I turn to walk back to my car.
“There's a funeral here soon,” the man continues suddenly. “First one in quite a while. Local woman, you might have heard about it. She jumped in front of traffic last night.”
“I'm not sure that's quite what happened,” I reply, glancing back at him.
“You're not?” He pauses. “Well, whatever... I hope they find someone decent to take the service. And whoever it is, I hope they get him to stick around for a while. It's been too long since we had a permanent priest in Redfield.”
“Is Father Prior not permanent?” I ask.
“Father Prior?” He stares at me for a moment. “Well, he was permanent while he was here, but that's the problem. It's been three years since he died, and still they haven't found anyone to take the place over.”
“Since he...”
Pausing again, I think back to the other night, when I first arrived in Redfield and met Father Prior right here on the steps. At the same time, even though I remember that conversation, I'm having a hard time picturing the priest's face in my mind, almost as if his features are a blur. I'm sure there was something about him that stood out, that made me think he was a little creepy, but now the details are lost.
“Did you know Father Prior?” the man asks.
“I...”
I take a deep breath.
“No,” I say finally. “No, I didn't, but...”
I turn and look around, but of course there's no sign of anyone else. For a moment, it occurs to me that I should stay in town for a few more days and try to get some answers, but I get the feeling that Marie was right when she said that the creature – whoever and whatever he might be – will have left by now. The data really does show that he never strikes twice in the same place. Besides, if staying in Redfield is making me contemplate the impossible, maybe that's another sign that I should hit the road.
I need to stay calm.
And grounded.
And sane.
“Thank you,” I tell the man as he starts sweeping the steps again. “You've been very helpful.”
Once I'm back in my car, I pull out an old map and start working out the best route to a town called Gravington Falls, which is where there's a local newspaper archive I need to check out. The drive will take at least two days, but I'm ready to get on the road again. Just as I finish checking the route, however, I happen to spot a familiar name on the map, and I realize that I have a chance to break my journey in a very significant town.
Maybe.
Maybe I'll stop there, or maybe I'll just drive straight through and ignore everything Luke told me.
Chapter Thirteen
“Chanciechaunie's coming to get you! You'd better run, little girl, 'cause Chanciechaunie's set his eyes on you and he won't give up until he's taken you away forever!”
“Grandpa, stop!”
The girl laughs as she runs across the town square, chased by a middle-aged man who seems to find the whole thing just as amusing. For a moment, I watch as the man pursues the girl around the fountain and back this way, and finally he grabs her and starts tickling her belly. She laughs again, and the whole scene seems utterly, completely idyllic. In fact, it's almost too idyllic, like a picture postcard come to life. I can't work out if that's due to some kind of small-town charm, or if it's just that I've been on the road for too long. Maybe a little of both.
“Are you here for the festival?” a voice asks.
Turning, I see that an older man has stopped just a few feet away. I'm starting to get the feeling that Malmarbor is the kind of town where new arrivals are quickly noticed by the locals, and frankly I think maybe I should have just kept on driving straight to Gravington Falls.
“Festival?” I stammer, shielding my eyes from the sun. “I'm not sure I -”
Before I can finish, the little girl runs straight past me. She's clearly having fun, and a moment later I spot a dark statue over by the sidewalk. I researched this town on my way here, and I already know t
hat they've been trying to turn the legend of Chanciechaunie into some kind of tourist attraction. The whole idea is completely ridiculous, of course, but I still feel a faint shudder as I stare at the statue and realize that it does look slightly like the figure I saw back in Redfield.
Then again, anyone with two arms and two legs, and a bit of a hunched back, would look like the figure I saw.
“The festival's not for another two months,” the old man explains, “so you're a little early. There's still lots to do, though. There's the Chanciechaunie exhibition in the library, and there's the Chanciechaunie tour to the forest, and don't forget to drop by the Chanciechaunie pub over on the far side of the square. They do food there, but if you want something a little more up-market, the Chanciechaunie restaurant is a little pricier. And if you don't have a room booked yet, you could try -”
“Let me guess,” I reply, turning back to him. “The Chanciechaunie Hotel?”
“Some people even think we should change the name of the town,” he says with a smile. “I think maybe that'd be taking things too far, though. Don't want to overdo it, do we?”
“Perish the thought,” I mutter as he wanders away.
The girl is still playing over on the far side of the square, so I head toward the statue and take a closer look. A twisted, ugly thing, the statue looks to be made out of bronze, with sunlight glinting against the yellowish-brown of its bald head. The neck is turned, almost as if the figure is supposed to be looking over its shoulder, but I can't help staring at the blurred face. Whoever sculpted this thing, they clearly got carried away with the idea that the creature's face can't be remembered by anyone. If this is the legendary Chanciechaunie, he doesn't look that terrifying, although I can see why children might be a little scared.
And that's all this is, really.
A scary story for children. More than ever, I'm certain that Luke was wrong when he tried to tie this pantomime to the figure that has been killing children over the past couple of decades. And that's why I decided to stop in Malmarbor for a day. I want to see the pantomime up close, so I know it's not real.