by Amy Cross
Copyright 2015 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Published by Dark Season Books
Kindle edition
First published: August 2015
“If you knew what was really going on here, what was really hiding under the surface in Bowley, your heart would break .”
Beth has a plan to change her life forever, but first she has to meet a stranger at the diner. After teasing herself with the possibility for so long, she’s finally on the verge of getting rid of Bob, but there’s still one moral line she has to cross. Before she can face the reality of her situation, however, she learns some devastating news.
That same news, meanwhile, has also reached Ben. Shocked by a death so close to his heart, he realizes that the time has come to deal with the Border once and for all. Just when he’s about to take matters into his own hands, however, his sister comes to him with another problem entirely, one that threatens to bring the entire family to its knees. Out in the wasteland beyond the edge of town, a very different tragedy is about to unfold.
The Border is a horror thriller serial in eight parts, about a family’s search for the truth, and about a town gripped by the possibility that a killer lurks among them. This is the seventh and penultimate part. Ends on a cliffhanger.
The Border
Part Seven
Prologue
Nine years ago
“Tell me about your life,” Paula said with a smile, resting against Ben’s bare chest as they lay in bed. “Tell me what happened to your eyes.”
Turning to her, he frowned.
“My eyes?”
She nodded, looking first at one of his eyes and then at the other. “They’re…” She paused. “I was going to say they’re dead, but that’s not true. They’re beautiful, really they are, but they’re also… Deep. No-one has eyes like that unless they’ve seen something to cause it.”
“What the hell are you on about?” he asked with a smile.
“I’m serious!”
He shook his head.
“You don’t think it’s worth talking about your eyes?”
“Um, not really. I just use ‘em for seeing stuff. Jesus, I didn’t think you were gonna turn out to be the kinda girl who goes on about a man’s eyes.”
“Eyes are the window to the soul,” she told him.
“Well, if you ever get tired of working in that store downtown, you could try getting a job for a company that makes greeting cards. They lap that cliched stuff right up.”
He stared at her for a moment. Having picked Paula up at a bar the night before, he’d brought her back to his apartment and they’d spent the night in bed. Now, in the cold light of morning, he was surprised to find that she seemed to care about him.
“What do you think my eyes have seen, then?” he asked, hoping to avoid getting too deep but still wanting to know what she thought.
“I don’t want to say.”
“Say.”
She shook her head.
“Something bad?”
“Well, yeah.” She paused. “Something worse than death.”
“What’s worth that death?” he asked.
“A lot of things.”
“No way,” he replied. “Death’s final, death’s absolute. Anything else, even pain, is better than death. Death is nothingness, it’s absolute oblivion. At least if you’re in pain, you know you’re alive.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so. Jesus, don’t get poetic on me.”
“You talk in your sleep,” she told him.
He shook his head.
“You do,” she continued. “Something about… a stag-headed man.”
He froze, eying her with concern. “What else did I say?”
She smiled. “Tell me what the -”
“What else did I say?” he asked again, more firmly this time. “No messing around here, tell me what I said!”
“Or you’ll beat me?”
“Or…” He paused. “Just tell me.”
“You seem worried. What’s wrong, Ben? Are you scared that maybe you spilled some of the secrets you keep so tight during the day?” She smiled, watching the fear in his eyes, before kissing his shoulder. “Relax,” she continued, “it was all just… I mean, it was obviously some kinda nightmare. It didn’t make sense at all.”
He sniffed, staring at the ceiling as she placed several more kisses on his shoulder.
“So you’re sticking around, right?” she asked after a moment. “You seem like the kind of guy who might burn through a town pretty fast, but I’d kind of… Well, I’d like it if you stayed for a while. So I could get to know you, you know?”
“Sure,” he muttered, his mind already on other things.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Whatever.”
“You’re so spooked,” she continued, “it’s almost like… Well, its almost like you’re worried you let out some secrets.”
“I just didn’t know I talked in my sleep. That’s all.”
“Everyone does sometimes.”
“Not me.” He paused, before flinching as he felt another kiss on his shoulder. Pulling away slightly, he scratched the flesh where the last kiss had fallen, as if it itched like a scarred bullet-wound. “I should get going,” he muttered. “I’ve got a lot to do today. I need to go find a job.”
“What kind of work are you looking for?”
“Any goddamn kind.” He sat up and looked down, seeing his clothes sprawled across the floor. He had a vague memory of pulling them off enthusiastically the night before, in the dark, and of ripping some buttons from his shirt. They’d been a little drunk after the bar, desperate to get to one another’s naked bodies; now he had a slight headache and he just wanted to shower, drink coffee and get back to being alone. “Damn it,” he muttered.
“Do you want to work in a kitchen?” Paula asked, leaning closer and letting her chest brush against his arm.
He turned to her.
“My uncle owns a restaurant,” she continued with a smile. “He’s always looking for someone hard-working to keep the kitchen under control. If you’re interested, I could set you up with a meeting.”
Pausing, he couldn’t help noticing the way her green eyes constantly shifted, as if she was watching him intently.
“Why do I get the feeling,” he said finally, “that you’re reeling me in?”
“I’m just offering you a chance of a job,” she pointed out, pulling the sheets a little further up to make sure her modesty was protected. “Don’t go thinking it’s a goddamn marriage proposal. It’s just a job. It’s hard work, sometimes dirty, and you’ll get cursed at a lot and you’ll be expected to curse right back. Plus there’s a lot of fish water. I worked there one summer when I was younger, and my overriding memory is all this gunky water from the boxes the fish comes in. Think you can manage a job that involves fish water?”
He paused again, before smiling. “Honey, I was born for that kind of job.”
“Then we’ll drop by the restaurant this morning.”
He nodded, although the sickening sensation in his belly was already starting to grow. Having only just left Bowley, he felt as if he was already being dragged into another entanglement. Then again, as Paula climbed out of bed and walked past the window, her naked body silhouetted against the light curtains, Ben was starting to think that maybe it was impossible to avoid all entanglements. Still, he told himself that taking a job with Paula’s uncle d
idn’t mean anything in the long-term; it was just a matter of convenience, something to put some cash in his pockets. It didn’t mean a damn thing, even though he felt, deep down, that he was already snared.
“While we’re there,” she said, fixing her hair in the mirror, her bare ass picked out by the morning light, “we might as well grab lunch.”
Hook, line and sinker.
I
Today
Taking a deep breath, Beth continued to watch the door to the diner for a moment. Nearby, some men dressed in Santa costumes were singing carols, while families hurried past on their way to the stores. Beth, however, merely shuddered and looked down at her phone, reading the message for the thousandth time that morning:
If you’re serious, meet me at the Bowley diner at 9am on Christmas Eve. Terms as outlined in advert. Luke.
“If you’re serious,” she muttered, trying to work out what that meant. Was it a trap? Was it an attempt to lure her into doing something awful? What were the rules of entrapment again? Or was it – and this was an option she was taking equally seriously – some kind of mistake, or perhaps even something she was imagining. All the possibilities rushed through her mind, although after a moment she realized she was simply trying to distract herself from the one thing that scared her the most.
She shivered again.
“What if it’s real?” she whispered.
She paused.
Had she actually whispered those four words out loud, she wondered, or had she imagined whispering them, and merely thought them.
More importantly, was she losing her mind?
“Damn it,” she muttered.
Watching the diner’s windows, she saw a waitress making her way past several tables. There were a lot of customers already, mostly people who looked exhausted after getting out for their last-minute Christmas shopping early. A few of the faces she recognized, but there were some who seemed unfamiliar, who might be the mysterious Luke. Whoever he was, she figured he was probably some kind of youngish, maybe military-looking man, but she saw no-one like that so far. After checking her phone again, she watched in horror as the time flicked over to 9am, and she realized she had to make a decision.
She had to go into the diner and meet the (possible) hit-man, or she had to go Christmas shopping.
After half an hour so far, she’d still not worked out what to do, and her hands were trembling.
***
Christmas music was playing from a speaker on the counter, linked to a laptop, as Beth pushed the door open and stepped into the diner. She immediately stopped and looked around, feeling as if her heart was beating twice as hard as usual. Hurrying past, the waitress flashed a smile at her, but Beth was too tense to reciprocate.
Swallowing hard, she made her way toward an unused table by the window. With every step, she considered turning and leaving.
“Do you need to see a menu?” the waitress asked suddenly, popping into view as if from nowhere.
“No!” Beth blurted out, immediately taking a step back before realizing that she was probably coming across as someone with something to hide. “I mean, yes. Yes, I need to see a menu. Thank you.”
“Okay,” the waitress replied with a faint smile as she slipped past and headed to the counter. “Apple pie is off today,” she added, handing the laminated piece of card over to her and then making her way to a crowded family table. “I’ll come take your order in a minute. Sorry, we’re kind of busy today, but I won’t forget you. I never forget a face, I promise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Beth asked, suddenly realizing she should have worn a disguise.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be with your shortly.”
Beth forced a smile as she sat by the window. Looking down at the menu, she could barely even concentrate on the items. Every time she read a line, she immediately forgot what it had been about and had to read it again, and every second she felt an urge to get up and leave.
“I got it,” a male voice said suddenly.
Turning, she saw an older man in hunting gear at the next table, holding up a large, boxed Star Wars toy.
“Apparently it’s what all the kids want,” he continued, smiling at Beth. “It’s sold out everywhere, but I found one tucked away at the back of a shelf. I figure someone was trying to hide it ‘til they could get back to buy it. I kinda feel bad, but…” He paused. “Well, my grandson is gonna be so happy, and that’s all that really matters. Sorry, I don’t know you at all, I just wanted to share with someone. I always get like this at Christmas. I just want to talk to everyone I meet.”
Pausing, Beth studied the man’s face. He didn’t look like an assassin from the dark internet, but then again she figured that an assassin from the dark internet would probably be a master of disguise. Besides, what kind of person would just randomly start a conversation about toys in a diner?
An assassin!
She clenched.
“I love Christmas,” the guy added, setting the box back into a bag. “Even the last-minute running-around part of it feels good. A few years ago, I got all my Christmas gifts bought early, in November. I felt so pleased with myself at first, like I’d really beaten the universe. Then, when Christmas Eve came around, I still found an excuse to come out and run around in the crush. I know it might sound weird, but I just enjoy that side of things. Later tonight, about an hour before they close, I’m gonna go to the toy store and try to buy one of those pogo stick things for my grandson. I figure all the other customers are gonna be at their maximum stress levels. There’s something comforting about that, like being around stressed people makes me less stressed. Am I right, or am I right?”
“You’re…” She paused, before leaning across the aisle and lowering her voice. “Are you Luke?”
“I beg your pardon, M’am?”
“Are you Luke?” she asked again. “Are you talking in some kind of code?”
He stared at her, and slowly the friendly smile seemed to face from his face.
“Are you?” she hissed.
“M’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Roger Alan Gibbs and I’m a retired insurance salesman. I don’t even know anyone named Luke.”
She paused. “Okay,” she added finally, leaning back. “Well, I’m here, if… If that matters.”
Looking down at her laminated menu, Beth tried to keep from shaking to pieces. She read the first couple of menu items over and over, but they wouldn’t stick in her head at all, and after a moment she realized that Roger Alan Gibbs from the next table was watching her. In the back of her mind, she figured that she’d already blown her cover, that she’d begun to attract attention and that maybe people were even onto her. And then another horrifying thought entered her mind: what if Roger Alan Gibbs was an undercover cop, waiting to bust her?
“Oh God,” she whispered, feeling as if she was on the verge of tears. “This is insane…”
“I’m Luke,” a voice said suddenly.
Looking up, she gasped as she saw a tall, dark-haired man taking a seat opposite her. Impossibly handsome and with a blistering blue eyes, he smiled as he removed his gloves. To her shock, Beth realized that this guy looked exactly how she imagined a paid assassin would look, and she quickly glanced around to make sure that no-one was watching.
“Let me guess,” Luke continued, his voice filled with a thick accent that hinted at Slavic roots, “your heart is pounding in your chest like a wild cougar. You don’t know how you ended up in this situation, but now that you’re here you find yourself wondering if you have the strength to stay. You’re so caught up in your own fears, you didn’t even notice me arrive.”
“I just -” She stared to him, and after a moment she realized she was gripping the side of the table like a madwoman. She let go, although now she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
“You’ve never done anything like this before,” he added, clearly amused by her reaction, “and you’re wondering if it can possibly be real. You�
��re wondering if your life, which has been so hectic for so long, could suddenly be made so much easier. You’re wondering if this is the first day of the rest of your life, and if it is, whether that’s a good thing or not.”
“I -”
“Let me remind you,” he continued, “that we are in a public place. We are two supposedly intelligent people, so I’m sure we can speak in such a way as to make our thoughts known, without saying certain words that might be problematic. I prefer to hide in plain sight.” He turned to look at the counter. “Waitress!” he shouted. “We’re ready to order!”
“Keep your voice down!” Beth hissed.
“Why? She won’t hear me otherwise.”
“Are…” She took a deep breath. “Are you the man from the dark internet?”
“I am.”
“Are you… Are you the… silver bullet man?”
He nodded proudly. “I am.”
“Oh Jesus,” she whispered, looking back down at the menu.
“Don’t worry,” he continued. “I chose to meet in a crowded location precisely because there’s so much noise here, no-one will pay attention to anything we say. The alternative, meeting somewhere out of the way, risked drawing attention.”
She nodded.
“Did you bring the money?” he asked.
She looked around again, still worried that they might be overheard. “I did,” she said after a moment. “I went to the bank and I told them I needed it for last-minute gifts. They believed me.” She paused. “Is two thousand dollars the full price, though? That seems kind of… low.”
“I’m starting out,” he replied. “I need to establish my reputation.”
“Right.” She frowned; that explanation both made sense and didn’t.
“Plus,” he continued, “I’m hoping to get a testimonial from you for my website.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Anonymous, of course. But just a few words once the job is done, for my other potential customers.”