by David Morgan
Chapter 4
The rain finally stopped as the wind picked up, flushing away the clouds and leaving in its wake a clear night sky dotted with stars and gleaming constellations. The dim light of the full moon stretched down through the trees, multiplying the shadows amongst shadows.
Paxton and Chad, along with several others of similarly low social standing jostled and bumped down a narrow path covered in fall foliage, passing and balancing two cases of beer between them. Either overweight nearing obese, or laughably skinny, all four of them were out of shape. They had walked the last half mile from the parking lot, dressed to kill, but ill-prepared for a hike in the woods.
Before them lay a fork in the road with a broken two-by-four crudely nailed to a tree, labeled “Watering Hole” with an arrow directing them to the favored gathering place of the students of Rayhollow High.
The path gave way to a large clearing that, after about a hundred more yards opened up onto the edge of a lake, the other side of which could just barely be seen thanks to the lights of distant cabins. Pockets of teenagers littered the place: mingling in groups and huddled around small campfires lit in stone circles or metal drums. The raucous laughter of idiotic, inebriated teenage jokes floated through the air between sips of Natty Ice and swigs of Jack Daniels.
“A typical Friday night at the Hole.” Chad announced to his friends on arrival.
“As if you would know,” one of the skinnies shot back, “you’ve been here like twice.”
“Shut up and give me a beer.”
The boys sat and soaked in the heat of their fire, watching as their peers partied and mingled, drifting from fire to fire and group to group. Couples paired up and wandered off, a guitar melody broke out a few times.
More than once someone would wander over to their fire before realizing that they made a mistake as to whom they just approached before either laughing and walking away or standing to make awkward conversation before leaving.
“Hey guys!” Surprisingly, the voice that approached them sounded female.
“It’s us.” One of the skinnies piped up. “The parties over there” and he pointed a finger to a random group while he finished his beer.”
“I know!! That’s why I came over!”
“Are you drunk?” Other skinny spoke up.
“Or is this a bet?” Original skinny.
“Or is this some elaborate way to embarrass us?” The dialogue continued, echoing unbroken disbelief.
“It’s me! Kara!” And she came closer to the fire, showing flushed red cheeks. “Oooh ‘swarm over here!” she plopped down on a log next to Chad, nearly falling over and taking Chad with her in the process.
“Why aren’t you guys having fun?!” She yelled.
“Shh!! WE’RE RIGHT HERE!” Chad faux-yelled back at her.
“Ooh! Sorry!” And she clumsily covered her face with her mouth before leaning in and whispering “Why aren’t you guys having fun?”
Skinny was about to answer when, but the entire woods fell silent.
With waist-length black hair reflecting the glow of the moonlight, she walked into The Hole. The air grew thick and dense, as if choking all sound, and every head turned to see her glide in, casting a shadowy silhouette against the trees.
Paxton felt it again. The intense yearning which, if he did not gratify, he felt would kill him.
“What are you guys looking at?!” Kara shouted again.
“SHHH!!” This time Paxton silenced her.
“OH!” and lowering her voice to a whisper repeated, “What are you guys looking at?”
“Oh. Her. Why am I not surprised?” She made sure everyone knew she was annoyed.
“You know her?!” Paxton straightened up. “Who is she?!”
“She’s knew—some exchange student from Japan or Russia or something.” She buried her face in her palms, as though she was exhausted from discussing the subject.
“Tell me her name.” Paxton demanded, turning to Kara.
“I can’t remember. Dako—or Taco—or Ducky…something or other. Daka--”
“Dakimakura.” A small, soft voice said, causing all others to fall silent. “My name is Dakimakura.” Everyone around the fire froze at the sound of her name. The skinnies thought it majestic, Paxton found it breath-taking. Kara considered it deplorable, and yet envied it desperately.
She spoke with an accent that was slightly British but not entirely—as though some distant European had studied the Queen’s English.
“But you may call me Dasha.” To each one present, her voice was simultaneously frightening and enchanting. They could do nothing except for to listen as she spoke. It was Niagara Falls and a sunrise on the Grand Canyon, it was heroine and alcohol, majesty, awe, and death: all rolled into one glorious, tragic, and ancient voice.
If she had asked for a drink she would have received a dozen within seconds. If she had requested that they slit each other’s throats, within moments the ground would be soaked in blood.
From the distance wood, a wolf’s howl softly echoed. The Hole had never been so silent on a Friday night since it was discovered by Rayhollow High students.
Then suddenly everything was normal again. The air seemed to thin and the noise returned to its usual boisterous levels.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dasha. I’m Pa--”
“Paxton. I know.” And she smiled at him. That same, shy smile as she had offered earlier in the day when they first made contact.
Then she turned to Kara, “And you’re Kara. And you’re Chadwick, although I think you prefer Chad,” and then, turning to the skinnies she added: “and you’re Randall and Johnathan.” Every jaw dropped.
“Did I get that right?” She added as an afterthought.
“Wow! How did you know all of our names?!” Paxton’s voice quivered with excitement.
“Lucky guess?” And she covered her mouth and burst into a brief, high-pitched giggle. “Teehee.”
Kara interrupted, “How long have you been at Rayhollow?”
“Today is my first day.”
“And…” Paxton’s voice failed him as Dasha looked deep into his eyes.
“…where are you from…” He said with more confidence, “…originally?”
“I am from far away.”
“Oh.” Randall downed the last of his beer and reached for another one. “We’ve got company,” he said.
The light of the fire shined on a tall, barrel-chested figure who approached seemingly out of nowhere.
“Hey Darren. What’s up?” Chad addressed him.
The figure ignored Chad and bent down, resting an arm on Dasha’s shoulder and the other on Kara’s. He leaned in, bringing his face close to theirs.
“Hey. We’re gonna do some shots if you ladies want to come.” And he started to laugh.
“I’m in!” Johnathan shouted.
“Ladies.” He repeated. “You’re not invited,” Darren said, without even bothering to look at Johnathan. Then, catching Kara’s death stare quickly added, “That is, there’s no Dungeons and Dragons over there Johnny. I mean---our guild members only.—that’s something you understand, right?” He sneered.
“So what do you say, girls? Want to join?” He hiccupped in between words.
“No thank you.” Dasha made eye contact with Paxton.
“Aww c’mon. You know you want it.” He pulled the girls in to himself, or at least attempted to. Kara was pulled into his chest and gave him a playful shove and laughed. Dasha, however did not budge a single inch, forcing him to awkwardly pull himself over to her.
“Stop it, Darren!” Kara laughed, hitting him again.
“No thank you, Darren.” She spoke softly, but her words carried the firmness of thunder.
“Well you’ll come with me at least?” He turned back to Kara, trying to save face.
“Hey! Stop! Ahh!!!” She shrieked, half laughing as he hoisted her up over his shoulder. She beat on his back half-heartedly, kicking her legs
wildly—which caused a shriek of laughter to jump up from the group of students he had just left. “DARREN!”
The sounds that followed made it safe to assume that shots were indeed poured and drank as Kara’s laughter echoed throughout the Hole. Chad stared directly into the fire and nowhere else. At first sipping, now chugging his beer. Then another, and another. The group was mostly silent. What was there to talk about, after all?
“Sorry,” Paxton began, looking to break the silence and distract from their humiliation, “Some guys are jerks.”
Dasha stared directly into Paxton’s eyes, “It’s ok,” and she slid over, placing a hand on Chad’s shoulder. He sighed and lowered his beer, still staring into the fire.
“You like her, don’t you?” It was the first time, Chad noticed, that anyone had ever asked him such a question without a single trace of judgement or sarcasm or a ‘she’s-out-of-your-league’ tone of voice.
“Yes. I do…very much.” He answered, still staring into the fire.
“But she only sees you as a friend?” Dasha’s voice had now become as tender as before it had been thunderous. She still held Paxton’s eyes.
“Only since she lost weight.” Chad answered.
“She’ll soon learn what it means.” Dasha said enigmatically.
And a voice from the background again shot up, “DUCKY MAKERA! DID YOU FALL IN LOVE?! COME HAVE A SHOT WITH US!”
“What what means?” Randall asked, ignoring the background noise.
“The friend zone.”
And now Paxton spoke up, “What do you think, Dasha? Once in the friend zone, is it possible to escape?”
“It is possible to escape the ‘friend zone,’ yes.”
“How?” Johnathan asked, eagerly.
“It is like a prison.” She said.
“You’ve got that right,” Randall added, taking another swig of beer. “Once you’re locked in, there’s no escape.”
“Unless.” Paxton added.
“Unless?” Jonathan chimed in.
“…unless the jail keeper sets you free.” Dasha added.
The group remained silent, letting the fire drown out the cat calls and the crude invitations from others for Dasha to join them.
Randall spoke, “Hey Dasha.”
“Yes, Randall?” Her eyes glowed red in the light of the fire, reflecting it perfectly.
“Why can’t dinosaurs talk?”
The question was so random that everyone looked to Randall as if they’d misheard. How does one ask such a ridiculously stupid question when such a knock-out gorgeous woman actually wants to talk to you?
To their surprise, Dasha caught the gist.
“I don’t know, Randall. Why can’t dinosaurs talk?” It was a joke.
“Because they’re all DEAD!”
And as soon as he said the word “dead”, a smile involuntarily cracked across the mysterious girl’s face for a moment before she quickly covered her mouth to giggle. Though open only for a moment, her smile revealed a mouthful of pearly white teeth that glowed in the fire, with canines, Chad noticed, that seemed just a little bit longer and sharper than natural.
The rest of the group burst into guffaws at the stupid joke, glad and relieved that it had not resulted in Dasha joining the d-bags. Things loosened up for the group of off-beats and they continued to drink and stoke their fire, the crass shouting from the background gradually dying down as the other students became increasingly engrossed in their own nonsense.
Dasha looked again to Paxton, “Paxton, would you like to go for a walk?” And without a word he stood up, and so did she, leaving the other boys with mouths wide open, staring as they disappeared into the distant darkness.