Out There
Copyright © 2021 by Cademon Bishop.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Book and Cover design by Cademon Bishop
First Edition: April 2021
To Elena, Tammy, and the many hearts that have listened to me talk about this without end. Also to Danny, Gale, and Dian, for showing me Joselean Springs.
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Junipers Daydreams — The Boys Make a Break —
Chapter 1
Side A, Track 1
You’ll Wake Up Soon Enough
Lara felt a raindrop burn as it collided with her forehead, then the slow painful strain as it trickled down around her ear then towards the ground. She jolted up, eyes aching as they opened, arm and legs cramping from lying on the rocky soil below. Her sight was hazy as she squinted to survey the area.
She found herself sitting in a small clearing in the middle of a forest. Lara could make out a narrow dilapidated wooden house a short distance to her left. On her right, lying with her, was a body. She couldn’t focus on any of its defining features, only the dark blue cloud of a beaten person.
Lara tried to jump, but her numb right leg sent her cascading into the body's chest. It was a man and he smelt familiar. The threads of his blue sweater sent a shiver through her heart.
She took in a breath and absorbed the world around her, then the scent of rain shook her awake. Her psyche trickled back like sand in an hourglass. The forest surrounding the cramped clearing was a dark green shroud. She raised her hand and noticed a sizable scrape, yet felt no pain. Pressing her fingers against the scrape she watched blood seep out like water through a sifter. She couldn’t feel it sting or even the crescents her fingers made against her palms, she could only hear the dull throb of her heart through her headache. Her entire body was numb.
Except for the rain.
A raindrop fell, scorching the top of her palm. She shook the off pain in her hand, then gripped it tight against her chest. Lara looked up and knew who lay before her. She tried to think back to why she was here, but something cut the film of her memories leaving a clean cut to the forest. Why is he here? Why is he bleeding? Where-
— — —
-Is my wallet?” Lara called to Dian. It was September 1st, 1977, one day before she found herself in the woods. She searched every corner of her room, and under every object, as if it would appear out of spaces it couldn’t fit. Dian searched too but not as restlessly. In a room as sparsely decorated as Lara’s, it would take only a quick glance at the cabinet and a ruffle of the bedsheets to comb through any hiding spaces.
“Ain’t a man usually pay on a first date?” Dian said, leaning against the doorway. Lara dug into a cardboard box, tossing a bra over her shoulder.
“I can at least feel safe knowin’ where it is.” Lara would have spilled the box across the scratched wood floor if she wasn’t stopped by something smacking the wall above her bed.
“Ya left ya damn billfold on the counter.” Her mother had slung her wallet into the room. It landed on her bed with a faint flop. Lara froze, still facing the box, trying to find the words that wouldn’t set her mother off.
“Th—”
“Better be back on time. You and your friend shouldn’t trust men for shit, you got that?” Lara stood up and met her mother’s eyes.
“I know.” She watched the smoke from her mother’s cigarette rise in the afternoon sunlight from the window.
“I mean it.” Her mother took a quick drag as she walked off.
After a couple minutes, Lara and Dian walked outside and stood, silent on the white front porch, listening to the hum of crickets and birds. Lara glanced to her right, noting the torn and muddied American flag nailed to the porch roof’s peeling white paint. Her friend, Dian, leaned against the shoddy railing and stared down the winding dirt drive that led to town. Lara kicked a beer bottle beside her feet into the patches of dandelions below.
“You excited?” Dian asked.
Lara looked out on the field of barley. “Lil’ fearful, I guess. Hair look fine?”
“Fine?” Dian smiled, “It better be fine the way I braided it. I’m glad you like him, I had a feelin’ you would.” Dian gazed at the dark clouds on their right. “It ain’t gonna rain, is it?”
“Nah, I checked, tomorrow it might, but were lookin’ pretty clear here on out. I need to be going.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” Lara said as she walked to her truck.
Lara lingered in the diner’s front parking lot when she arrived. An odd mental sense tugged her away from the building, as if she held dark memories from this place she never visited. Going against the strange force, she left her truck. Had I dreamed this before? She thought. The words Wild Rye Dinner hung on a neon blue banner near the road.
The scent of oil, salt, and dust swam in the air around her as she entered the restaurant. Johnathan was already seated at a table beside the window. Don’t Go Near the Water, by Johnny Cash mumbled through the black speakers on the wooden shelf that surrounded the main room’s ceiling.
After ordering drinks, Johnathan cleared his throat and broke the mold, “You ever been on somethin’ like this before?”
Lara looked around the room as if her response hung on the walls. A lanky kid and a tan muscular man sat at the bar on the opposite side of the room. Lara could have ignored them, but she could swear the kid kept staring at her, as if she would pickpocket them at any minute. The tan man kept his gaze fixed on the mirror behind the bar.
“A date?”
Their drinks came. Lara sipped on a bottle of Ski and looked at the green glass. The drink tasted a little off, like old, chalky vitamins.
Johnathan spun the rim of his Coke bottle, “Yeah, a date.”
Lara made an awkward sip at her drink and tried to place the flavor. “Not really. You?”
Johnathan pointed the bottle towards her. She watched the light from the white lamp above them ripple in the bottle.
“Didn't think anyone wanted to go on a date with me.” The top of Lara's soda was translucent, yet the liquid grew gray around the bottom. She glanced at Johnathan's coke, but couldn't make anything out other than dark brown. It didn’t taste spoiled, it was as sweet as ever.
Johnathan leaned his arm forward and held the back of her hand, rubbing his thumb against her palm. “I’m sure there’s at least one other person other than me that thought about it.”
“Doubt it.” They looked out the window and towards town—what little town there was. “It's sad, you know.�
� Lara paused.
“Town?” Johnathan finished.
“Yeah…” Lara’s thoughts became airy as she looked at the horizon over the scant store fronts. For a moment, she felt drunk, then snapped back into consciousness. “The town, we ain’t got much to strive for. We can’t go out, can’t see nothin’. Stuck walking in a circle around the same chunk of land, and I don’t have to mention the rain. My friend Michael once fell in the rain during recess, can you imagine that. You fall and all these kids just gawk at you while you burn.”
“Did he survive that?”
“Yeah, got second degree burns across his cheeks and shoulders. He was two grades above me so I didn’t see any of it.” Lara sipped and tried to pinpoint the slightly different taste. “They said his face looked like scratched plastic.”
Johnathan grimaced as he looked out at the town. “It's shit, but there ain’t much we can do.” Lara noticed Johnathan’s words growing slower.
“You tired?” Lara asked.
“Yeah? You too?”
Lara nodded.
Johnathan glanced at his watch. “Jesus, it’s only 6:45, yet I feel like I haven’t got a lick of sleep.” Lara noticed that there was no one else in the restaurant.
Almost, no one.
“Is this place closed?” Lara’s question was answered as she saw the boy and the man across the room remained—still watching.
Lara’s awareness became a thin haze. She lifted the glass to her lips but couldn’t feel the lime soda trickle down her throat. Her chest ached, and her stomach wound into a loose knot.
Johnathan’s eyes flickered shut. His head bobbed down and up like a skip on a record player. Sleep, wake. Sleep, wake.
“Johnathan?” Lara’s lips were numb, letting her words spill in an loose mumble. Johnathan’s face-planted into the table, almost crashing into his empty bottle. They sat in silence for 30 seconds, the hum of the air conditioner and the 8-track player circled around them. A pair of soft footfalls crept across the red carpet, towards her left. She was too dreary to see who was coming, but had a good guess. Johnathan’s body limped off the booth, sending the coke bottle rolling five feet across the carpet. Lara blanked out with him.
— — —
Johnathan was posed in like renaissance painting: his chest protruded forward, arms twisted back. Painted below his silver Casio watch were purple and red bruises. Lara pushed herself off him and scooped him into her arms.
“Johnathan?” She whispered, shaking his back. His beaten face made no response. She rested her head against his chest, letting the folds of his dark blue sweater seep in between her fingers. Though faint, there was a slow rhythmic thump through the sweater. “Come on!”. She bolted up and repeatedly patted his chest. “Johnathan… Come on Johnathan, get up!” Dark gradual imprints of raindrops formed around them. “J.. J.. Johnathan, come on!” She shook his body. The calm tick of rainfall flushing through the trees made Lara’s heart race.
A bead of rain landed on Johnathan's cheek, then three more landed, forming light pink scars to form in their wake. A speck of rain fell in Lara’s hair, scorching their roots. “Wake up god damn it!” she cried while pounding on his chest. The sound of the rainfall was like static against the treetops. A dollop of rain trickled from the leaves above, burning a line across his neck. Lara strapped her arms around Johnathan, her back stiffened as she hoisted his body upwards. He slipped through her hold like a dead fish, head flopping as it struck the ground. “Shit, shit, shit, come on!” She clawed his sweater with jittering fingers, only to be stopped by dabs of rain sputtering across her shoulder.
With heavy and uneven breaths, Lara dragged Johnathan towards the neglected home. She looked down at him, then back to the house, and back to him again, letting the swatter slip from her grasp.
Lara knew she had no choice.
To hold tight to someone whose life is washing away or to let go. Let go, she thought, there's nothing I can do. The charring rain solidified her decision. She grasped the back of his hair and kissed his forehead, as she laid him down in the clearing.
Lara bolted for the abandoned house, heaving her shaking legs as fast as they could take her. Her body seized with every raindrop but she ran through the pain.
Just as she was about to grasp the door frame, she tripped into the burning wet dirt. The rain barraged on her back as if some turret of nature locked all aim upon her. Lara's back contorted and shook, but with unwavering arms, she crawled. The drizzle rang across the trees like bullets and the wind wailed like sirens. Grasping at bits of dirt, she dragged herself through the warzone.
She’d never felt more invited by carpet until now. Her damp scalded hands clung for dear life as she thrusted herself into the house. A cold drip fell onto the dusty floor. Tears slithered down her face and held onto her jaw before finally taping on the carpet.
Lara rested her palm against her soiled shirt and hugged as she wept. Hauling her tattered body forward, she lost all control. “Johnathan!” She screamed, outstretching a trembling hand towards him. Her vision went hazy again.
Johnathan’s body rested out in those woods his head facing the cabin, half of his face eroded, and his hand melted over his sweater.
As the storm escalated he progressively sunk into his clothes. His glossy eyes were fixed on Lara as they slowly sunk within themselves. Lara saw his chest begin to melt down like ice. The rain washed away his body, and then his clothes, as blood split over the rock.
Lara fainted.
There was no trace of his being, only the glint of his watch, the dark blue threads, and the light red stains within the stream of rain over the rocks.
Liner Notes
“Althea!” Lilith called in the midnight shadow of the Elk Horn Woods. Jude stood behind, face covered in a guidebook. Lilith shouted out once more, this time mentally, as if she were calling for a dog lost in her head.
Althea emerged from the woods. Lilith snapped her gaze on Althea. Jude’s watch remained hidden behind the shade of a tree.
“The newborn, where is she?” Lilith said as she raised her chin.
Althea studied the two, then stepped forward, revealing more of her aged face in the moonlight. “Leave.” She whispered.
“Althea! We had a promise!” Lilith bounded forward, but collapsed to her knees as Althea flicked out of existence. “Damn it!” She thrusted one hand into the forest floor, dirtying her frost white palms. “No, no, We can stop it.”
“Stop what?” Jude asked within the shadows.
“She isn’t born. Not yet. There’s still time.”
Jude stepped back, “Lilith, we can’t stay.”
“There’s still time!”
“Look!” Jude pointed left with a shaking hand. A ball of white light shimmered in the forest. Lilith stumbled up.
“Jesus, he’s here too!” Althea said. With his finger, Jude drew a tall rectangular arc. A dark oak door faded in the trancing. The two jumped inside and vanished in a echoing shut. The orb of light hovered to where they were, and waited.
The burning rain fell for the first time that day. It was the first step taken in close to 200 years, the first step to cover the catastrophic mistake.
Side C, Track 1
State Your Name
Record date: September 6th, 1977 6:45pm
“It goes without sayin’ that Joselean Springs has its batch of bad weather. It ain’t snowed in damn near 20 years but the rain, well the rains a different story. It started without warnin’. One mornin’, I was at home watchin’ the TV when all of a sudden sirens go off and my signal gets cut. I went out on the back porch to see the whole fuss and there was only rain. I reached out to feel it, and sure enough, it hurt like hell. The town was never the same.
“People tried to leave, but it’s never enough. They just find themselves back into town. It still stings just about every time it did rain. What still boggles my mind is that the crops, buildins’, and even the animals were fine, but the people... For starters, I’m prett
y sure it does more than just kill ya, there hasn’t been a recorded death, only some people claimin’ they watched their wife or kid melt into some sidewalk. The problem is when they come up to them insurance agencies or funeral homes claimin’ someone’s dead, only to find no record or mention of em. Even their homes had no photographs or papers provin’ they were real. It happened enough times to get the town talkin’. I wonder how many lost souls we got out here due to the rain.”
Side B, Track 1
Blue Suede
The neon red clock on the office wall hung at Harvey’s gallows. 8:28, just thirty godforsaken minutes, he thought as he waded through the pages of a Playboy magazine and stroked his dirty blond mustache.
Outside his window, the sun glowed a heavenly glaze against the Cincinnati skyline. The view was enough for someone to drown in; however, he never was one for sinking in sights. The only things he drowned in were; cherry bourbon with the news, or if he felt a little adventurous, he would dabble in a magazine scored by some cheap classical records.
Working for the FBI wasn’t as advantageous as he had hoped. His favorite days were filled tracking people down. Neither rain, nor shine, congested city blocks to suburban homes, could stop him from tracking someone down. Finding and identifying people, however, was an entirely different story.
He reclined in his chair and kicked his grease black shoes on the desk. His decor was sparse and he enjoyed it that way. The main features being the long wooden cabinet and the dying plant, just out of window view. His only other belongings were his green glass desk lamp, a Cincinnati Reds mug he threw pens in, and a playing card sized photo of his family.
He picked up the picture, rubbing his thumb near his two brothers. He tried to recall the warm memories they shared, but something made him flip the photo over, and return to page 67 of his Playboy—He never usually read this far.
Out There: A Rural Horror Story Page 1