by A C Bell
Her face lit up as I withdrew my phone. After a few rings, Peter answered.
“Hey, are you busy?”
“Only if you count having an existential debate with my ceiling light.”
“Stop staring at lights. I have a favor to ask.”
“In return for?”
“Free chili fries?”
Ten minutes later, Peter strolled into the bowling alley. A red argyle throw scarf was nestled around his neck like a bird’s nest, giving me the perfect opening. I hurried back to the front desk with my little rolling vacuum still in hand.
“Hey, Egghead, we need your brain.”
Peter grinned and tousled my hair. “What for?”
Lorraine shifted awkwardly. “I sort of suck at math.”
“You just gotta sweet talk the numbers. Let’s have a look.”
While the pair got started, I decided to take the trash out. The alley was through the kitchen. Tim was jamming to whatever music was blasting through his headphones, drumming on the counter with spatulas while something cooked in a pot. It was raining outside, of course, but it dampened the usual stench of cat urine. Not finding the brick we used to prop the door open, I eased the heavy door to the frame so it wouldn’t shut all the way.
Someone had left a broken broom beside the dumpster, too lazy to throw it in. I scrunched my nose in anticipation and thrust the lid of the dumpster open to toss the garbage in. As I lifted the bag, however, it snagged on the corner of my name tag and popped it off. With an irritable sigh, I let the dumpster lid fall shut and pulled my phone out to use the light, covering the device with my body so it wouldn’t get ruined by the rain.
Scouring the ground, I saw no sight of the little black rectangle. Only when I turned around did I catch a glint of reflected light a few feet further down the alley. How had it bounced all the way over there? With a shrug, I bent to pick it up. I don’t know if it was the light, but I could have sworn it moved. My skin started to crawl, both from the cold and from nerves. I scooped it up just as I heard the door click shut. Cautiously, I stepped closer to the door, allowing my phone to illuminate what little space was left of the alley behind it. No one was there. Had the door just weighed itself shut? I pounded a fist on it a few times to see if Tim would hear me. No luck.
With a sigh, I resigned to walking around to the front of the building, but hesitated. Someone was leaning on the wall near the mouth of the alley. Just out of reach of the streetlights, he was shrouded in silhouette. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who was foolish enough to get cornered in an alley so I dialed Lorraine’s number so she could let me in. There was no answer. Glancing back up, I realized the man’s head was now turned in my direction. The hairs on the back of my neck rose in alarm and I dialed again, pulling on the door handle just in case. At next glance, he had straightened from the wall, moving my way. My breathing became shallow and panicked, my heart beginning to race.
“Can I help you?” I asked. He didn’t answer. He was halfway down the alley, now. There was no doubt that he was heading for me. I stepped away from the door and stood my ground so he wouldn’t perceive me as a target.
Finally, Lorraine answered, chuckling. “Did you get locked out?”
“Come out back. Oh, and bring the bat.” I said, making sure to emphasize ‘bat’ in a threatening manner. It gave him pause. We didn’t actually have a bat, but he didn’t need to know that.
Lorraine’s tone turned serious. “On my way.”
The man came closer again but he stopped at the other end of the dumpster. From what I could see of his face I could at least tell he wasn’t wearing the Halloween mask and it wasn’t Raiden, but that didn’t mean that this wasn’t Nikki’s stalker.
“What do you want?” I demanded. “Is this about Nikki?”
A glint of metal flashed in his hand, or maybe it was my imagination. I didn’t see anything when I looked again. I remembered the broken broom next to the dumpster and stepped back to snatch it. The man threw his hand out toward me and I was knocked into the dumpster. My head struck the corner and I fell to the ground.
Lights out.
When I came back, cold rain was showering my face. The back of my head ached and nausea roiled my stomach. The man’s dark form was crouched over me. My pulse quickened when I realized his hand was at my neck. He drew back when he realized I was awake. Of what I could see of his face now that he was closer I felt like I recognized him, but from where?
Whatever he planned to do, he didn’t get the chance. The alley door opened and Peter’s shout filled the alley. The man bolted. Peter ran around me to give chase and Lorraine hurried to my side with a deep frown etched into her face and her brows crinkled in worry and fright.
“Are you okay?” She asked. She helped me sit up.
“Um, I think so.” My tongue hurt when I moved it and I tasted copper. I’d bitten my tongue. I gathered what blood I could and spat it out.
“Let’s get you inside,” Lorraine said. She saw my glance move down the alley and patted my shoulder. “Peter will be fine.” She helped me stand and the thudding pain in my head got worse. Only when Lorraine yanked her now squished shoe out of the door, left there to prop it open, did I realize she was only wearing one. Her sock was drenched.
Warm air engulfed us back in the kitchen. Tim noticed us, soaked and somber, and plucked his earbuds out.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Lorraine irritably waved him off as we slopped through to the main room. A mother and father and their two kids were waiting at the abandoned counter, but their visible annoyance dimmed when they saw our demeanor. Embarrassment flushed my face and warmed my frozen cheeks.
“I’m gonna sit in the locker room.”
“Okay,” Came Lorraine’s quiet voice behind me.
The isolation in the closet-sized locker room was refreshing. I sat with my back against the wall and pulled me knees to my chest, shivering. I told myself it was from the cold, but my mind drifted back to when I’d fallen. The guy had reached forward and I’d felt something push me. But that wasn’t possible. No, clearly, I must have tripped. My mind was just confused, I was remembering wrong after blacking out. That had to be it. So why was I so afraid?
My phone started to ring and I jumped, thumping my head lightly against the wall and aggravating the spot where I’d struck it. It was Nikki. Guilt gnawed at my stomach when I swiped to dismiss the call. I didn’t want to talk right now.
✽✽✽
Peter sprinted through the alley at full gait to catch up with the scum. Fury boiled in his gut. What had he been planning to do to her? He sailed out of the alley, pin-wheeling around a pipe to turn the corner without losing momentum. The creep barreled down the sidewalk past a guy on a bicycle. The creep waved his hand backward as he passed the bike and an invisible force propelled the biker even faster down the slight decline. The biker’s face screwed up as he failed to swerve out of the way and crashed into Peter. The wheel struck right between his legs and he lurched over the handlebars. They both went down. The biker was apologizing profusely while he kicked the bike off both of them. Peter rolled onto his knees, pressing his forehead against the cool sidewalk and breathing through the pain.
“You alright, man?”
Unable to speak at the moment, Peter thumped his fist onto the concrete, giving a sarcastic thumbs-up. By the time he recovered, the sorcerer was out of sight. As the wind blew past, it should have carried what his scent with it. The prick had cast a cloaking spell. Peter tried to take a calming breath as he stomped back to the bowling alley. Lorraine was back at her desk, looking shaken and concerned. She stood when he came in but deflated under the withering scowl on his face.
“No luck?”
“No. Where is she?”
She pointed to the employee locker closet. “Should we call the police?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Peter pushed the door open and found Adeline sitting against the wall, trying to make
herself as small as possible. The look on her face, the uncomprehending fear in her eyes, the pallor to her caramel skin; Had she seen something? Had the sorcerer done something that she couldn’t explain? Peter should say something, help her understand. He opened his mouth but the words got stuck in his throat. What if she thought he was joking, or what if she didn’t but just didn’t believe him? How was he supposed to tell her something this big?
“I’m taking you to the police,” he said instead. Coward. “Hand me your keys.
“You’re not driving my car.”
“Yours is more valuable than mine. With a crime wave in the area–” he gestured to the alley. “Mine is less likely to get stolen and you are not in the right headspace to drive.”
She didn’t really care if he drove her car, he knew. Her hesitation was born of reluctance to go to the police. Was it because of what she had seen or was it because of whatever she was hiding? Or were the two connected? This guy hadn’t been wearing a mask, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the same guy. Finally, she nodded.
When they were finally out on the road, she seemed to relax in the passenger seat. Peter used side roads so that the isolation could help her think with only the pitter-patter of the rain playing accompaniment. Headlights flooded the cabin. She tensed in his periphery and stared at the car that was riding his bumper through the side mirror. When Peter didn’t speed up after a few blocks the big brown truck turned, only to return the next block over to find themselves stuck behind Peter again. Once again, he cozied up to Peter’s bumper. Peter laid on the horn. When the driver refused to back off, he pulled over and rolled his window down.
"Fine, go!" he shouted. The truck flew past, speeding down the road like a demented brownie, and Peter turned to Adeline. She looked like she was using her hair to keep her face out of view until the car was gone. Her mouth turned down in a frown and she stared watchfully in the direction it had gone, then to the mirrors.
Peter didn’t say anything. Just started driving again. The truck didn’t show up again, but Adeline still watched the mirrors. In fact, she was so busy watching behind them that she didn’t notice when Peter changed their destination. He pulled into the dark empty lot of a park, overlooking a large pond. The moon reflected off the water like fractured glass Finally, Adeline noticed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Peter turned the ignition off and even kept the overhead light off. The light from his cell phone and the full moon were all they had to see by. He unbuckled and spun sideways in his seat to fix her with a stubborn scowl.
“We're here because you're afraid of something. I’ve kept my nose out of it like you clearly want, but it’s getting out of hand. We're in an empty lot where no one can see or hear us. Now, tell me what's going on. Is it about that guy in the alley?”
Adeline faced forward, chewing just as stubbornly on her lip. Peter leaned forward in earnest, trying to make her look at him. She glanced over and sighed.
“Someone’s been leaving me threats.”
“What?” Incredulity and anger darkened his face. "Who? Why?"
"I don't know who. I know someone who is... they have a stalker."
“A ‘friend’? Is her name Adeline?” He mused sarcastically.
She glared. “No. Are you going to let me talk?” She snapped. Peter held his hands up apologetically and let her continue. "When I started trying to find out who it is, the stalker started leaving me threats so I would back off. He always wears this." She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture of the mask he’d caught a glimpse of.
Peter raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew it. “You said that was nothing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I traced it to a shop called Eccentric Bros. Whoever bought it used my dad’s name.”
“This guy tried to kill you.” Peter’s anger brought a dangerous edge to his voice.
“I think he was just trying to scare me. While we were at lunch, he sent me a text. ‘Careful with the chicken’.”
“You mean like the game?”
Adeline nodded.
“How many threats?”
"I got one while I was in my dorm and the other was displayed on the screens at work. I called the police about that one, but I haven't heard anything about it."
"Do you have any idea who it is? Was that him in the alley?"
"I had an idea, but nothing solid. After tonight, I don’t know."
"Okay, well, we can still go to the police."
"If he finds out I've told the police, he might hurt her."
"Nikki is a smart girl. If he could get to her, he would have by now, so she's clearly doing something to make sure he can't," Peter said. She gaped when he guessed who she was protecting. "You can’t do all of this by yourself. I know you want to be a cop, but cops don’t handle cases alone, especially when they’re one of the targets. You need to tell the police and let them handle it."
Her phone started to ring and she jumped. She frowned and answered it. “Nikki?”
“Adeline, where are you? I’ve been trying to call you?” Peter heard Nikki say quickly, panicked.
“I’m with Peter. What’s wrong?”
“Why would you call the police?”
Peter perked up in alarm.
Adeline’s wide eyes turned to Peter. “The police? I didn’t call them, I swear.”
The phone buzzed and Adeline pulled it away to read the text. Peter leaned over, too.
I warned you not to tell.
Peter pulled the phone from Adeline’s hand. Nikki was talking frantically. “Nikki, who’s doing this?” He interrupted. Tires squealed.
“Peter!” Adeline shrieked.
A pair of bright headlights were barreling toward them through the lot. He reached for the shifter to pull it out of park, but too late. Farrah rammed into the railing overlooking the lake. The bolts holding it in place had either eroded from rust or were gone altogether because it popped free. In the silence as the surface of the water rushed toward them, Peter could hear Nikki trying hysterically to reach either of them through the phone.
8 Ice Cold
The impact when we hit jostled my brain around in my skull and threw my weight painfully into the seat belt. I pressed a hand to my head, but I didn't have time to wait for the throbbing and dizziness to subside. I felt around for my seat belt and unclicked the buckle. Adrenaline brought full focus back and helped my eyes adjust to our dark environment. Water was seeping through the cracks around the doors and any other orifice it could find. The surface of the lake crept above my view in the window. We were diving nose first, the weight of the engine pulling us down faster than the back end. We couldn’t have been sent too far into the lake so it couldn’t be too deep, but the water pressure would still keep us trapped in the car. What if Farrah rolled toward the deeper end once her wheels found the bottom?
"Peter?"
"I'm good," he said.
"Me too." I leaned forward, racking my brain for the fastest and safest way to get out of a sinking car.
“We won’t be able to open the doors until the car fills with water, and that’s assuming they didn’t get jammed from the impact.” I turned to Peter, who was nodding. A streak of dark blood was dripping down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead. I spotted a splotch of blood on the dashboard where he must have struck it. "It'll be faster to roll the windows down and swim through. We'll need to be quick so the car doesn't hit us while it sinks."
He nodded again. I zipped my leather jacket up tight and wrapped fumbling fingers around the window crank. As soon as he gave the word, I spun it as fast as I could. I kept low so the water wouldn't plow into me, but once the window was half down, I couldn't avoid it. The ice-cold force pulled my grip from the lever. I fumbled around until I found the crank again and forced the window the rest of the way down. After a deep, I forced my way through the window into the freezing depths. My eyes couldn't withstand the cold to stay open long, but the car was e
nough reference to tell me which way was up.
We weren't far from the surface. Cold air bit into my skin when I broke through. It was still raining. There was no sign of Peter, yet. I treaded water as best as my trembling arms and legs could, searching the black surface for any sign of him. Panic set in again. I'd decided to dive down for him when a dark ball broke the water about twenty feet away.
"Peter!" I called. Without speaking, he gestured to shore. I pedaled before my body could decide it was too cold to swim. Every inch of me was shaking, making it difficult to get a good grip on the slippery rocks at shore, but I fumbled up and turned to help Peter.
"Are you okay?" Tears streamed down my face and I didn't have the presence of mind to bother wiping them away. "What happened?" Peter accepted my hand and used my support to stand. I pulled him into a hug.
"The window wouldn't go down far enough," he said through shivers. I stepped back and helped him sit on the dirt. "By the time I figured out I wasn’t going to get it to go down, the car was full so I forced the door open."
"You look dizzy," I noted. I staggered to my knees so I could look at the cut on his head. It was still bleeding quite a bit and was longer and deeper than it had looked in the car. He would definitely need stitches. I lifted his scarf over his head.
"Sorry, I don't know how much blood you've lost. I'll get you a new scarf." Shivering made it difficult to keep my grip. I squeezed as much water out of the fabric as I could and pressed it to his head.
Peter waved a dismissive hand and held it to his head himself. "Forget the scarf. What about your car?" Wailing sirens caught our attention in the distance. Someone had called the police.
My throat tightened. I'd been trying not to think about Farrah. If there was any justice, my insurance would pay for at least most of the damage if the police couldn't find who'd hit us and make them pay. Right now, though, Peter was more important. I'd nearly gotten him killed. I fell to the ground beside him.
"I’m sorry, Peter. I’m sorry." My breathing became raspy, eyes welling anew, and no more words would squeeze out.