The Haunting of Steely Woods

by Bonnie Elizabeth

  She was back out in her safe place, though it was long past dark and the night creatures were out. Her sobs were quiet so she didn’t immediately draw her sister’s attention. The night creatures were giving her a wide berth. Lucy could have hoped for a poisonous snake to come up and bite her and put her out of her misery. Clyde might have paid Alma for her but who else would pay her? And what else would they want from her?

  Rain started to fall, a light mist that she hardly felt, though soon enough her dress stuck to her in places it shouldn’t have. It made the forest smell nice enough, all pine pitch, loam, and a musky scent that Lucy couldn’t place. She wasn’t ever going back in.

  She fantasized that the animals would bring her treats and keep her safe like in her books. But there were people around. It wasn’t that wild. The Pacific Highway wasn’t far, and sometimes if the car wasn’t well kept up she’d hear sputtering and rumblings as it passed by.

  Lucy’s fantasies turned to teaching the animals to kill her sister, to take her and rip her apart for selling Lucy’s body. Alma hadn’t even talked to her about it, hadn’t given her a choice. It was already a foregone conclusion when Clyde Marks was standing in the trailer taking up all that space.

  She’d never get decent rides again because people would know. They’d know that she was a fallen woman like her sister. People would whisper about her and her few friends, those girls that made her feel almost normal, would stop talking to her. Who would hire a tramp like her?

  Her life was over, at least as she’d known it. Lucy began to cry again, thinking of all the things she knew she’d miss out on, things she’d never really thought she wanted before. If she was honest, they’d probably always all been out of her reach, but now she knew for certain that they were.

  Her sister, the one person she thought she could count on, had taken all that from her. Anger built in Lucy’s chest. The red heat of the anger dried her tears and her sobs until she fell asleep beneath the firs.

  6

  Traci: September Now

  The van the bank rented was a newer model Chevrolet Traverse in an odd sort of gold metallic color. The seats were black cloth, which surprised me. Normally we get high end rentals but perhaps Nils had specified no-frills, which was struck me as amusing, but not enough to laugh. The Traverse was far more plush than my decade old Toyota.

  Deborah claimed the front, which didn’t surprise me. I didn’t argue with her although I could have pulled rank. Technically, I was senior to her. It didn’t matter. I hadn’t had any coffee that morning as it was a long enough drive that I didn’t want to feel I needed to make a pit stop. Deborah had a large plain Starbucks and Anson had a grande something, probably a fancy thing like a macchiato. Whatever he had chosen, it smelled divine and I wished I had a normal enough life that I could drink coffee on a road trip without having to worry about pit stops and communal restrooms that might be haunted.

  Nils set the radio to a low murmur of New Age flute music.

  “Really?” Deborah asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

  I said nothing and waited for Nils to wax philosophical about how relaxing instrumentals were and why he liked them. I didn’t have long to wait.

  Anson pointedly avoided looking at anyone during the lecture, paying attention only to his phone. I didn’t blame him. It was probably all that was keeping him from laughing. I didn’t need my phone, I just thought about the hotel room and the fact that there wouldn’t be full light in the room while I was there.

  I turned my face from the car and looked out the window as Nils guided the Traverse onto the highway. I let myself rock to the sway of the vehicle. The flute music washed over me. Nils continued talking about how he loved instrumentals and new age style instrumentals in particular, except drum music which sometimes got him too agitated. I was practically falling asleep with my eyes open.

  Deborah was making the minimal noises one does when one is being polite to someone else. I was glad that she was on the receiving end for a change. Normally she was the one talking too much.

  I drifted in and out while we drove north to Raleigh. We passed the rest area near Concord and no one made any noises about stopping, for which I was thankful. I breathed out a little heavier, not quite a sigh as we passed the first one.

  We were all the way to Raleigh before we had to stop at all, Nils navigating us to the studio where we’d be working for the day or perhaps two.

  The radio offices were in a whitewashed brick building about four or five stories high. Inside, only the reception area had any windows, tall ones that reached nearly floor to ceiling, but the heavy overhang outside blocked part of the light. The lighting for the rest of the building was provided by overheads that didn’t do much to dispel shadows.

  Beyond the reception area lay a long corridor, much too dark and shadowy. On one side were the booths for regular users and on the other side were the rental booths.

  We had a large room, like a conference room where we all got to sit around and hash out what needed to be done, once again, and then there was the booth that would hold the three voice actors who read the script. The rest of us would be crammed in the room where the sound mixer worked in order to see them work.

  While clean, the rooms held a lingering phantom odor of cigarettes and stale coffee. The smells did nothing to improve my mood, which was always dark when I was forced away from natural light. I felt particularly bad that day.

  Arguments broke out over things that had been set days ago. I noted changes that were wanted in the script, making sure keywords for our marketing campaigns weren’t erased in the ensuing discussions.

  I nibbled on a scone and regretted it. It was a lovely pastry filled with cranberries and drizzled with an orange glaze but it made me thirsty. Thirsty meant drinking water or coffee and doing so would require a trip to the bathroom. As it was, I was more aware of my bladder than I wanted to be.

  I hoped that the studio was small enough that the bathrooms would be private but I had no way of knowing whether that was true. I nibbled some more at the scone. It was tasty and perhaps the dryness in my mouth would overcome the pressure in my bladder.

  Nils and the director went over the script. Nils decided he didn’t like the voice on one of the actors. It was too similar to another actor and he wanted distinctive voices, showing a diversity of people. He wanted someone with a bit of an Appalachian accent and then someone with no accent at all. Given his slight southern drawl, I wondered if he meant a voice like his or one like mine.

  I took notes halfheartedly.

  Lunch came along. I was disappointed that we weren’t going out. Deborah was on the phone, making calls, ordering food in. Nils listened to the audition tapes various voice actors had sent in on the computer.

  Anson made drawings as he read through the script and heard the actors talking. He’d make print ads that used the same keywords and utilized graphics of what the conversation setting made him think of. Granted, the script had a setting but it was fairly generic. Anson had the task of putting visuals together

  I kept busy taking notes for Nils and following up with the people back in the office. I looked through our ad purchases for the last month with the new keywords we were targeting and checking into the return on investment versus older keywords we’d targeted previously. I made a note for Nils about one of the words that had had a good start but was no longer generating any interest.

  We discussed that.

  Deborah came in with lunch. She’d gotten Chinese and it included cups of soup. I was definitely going to have to find the bathroom.

  We all ate at the table, which was far too cramped for a group of our size which, in addition to our lunches, held papers and computers from our work. I held my elbows in. Anson closed his computer for the moment. Even the voice actors got lunch. We shared around the fried rice, Kung Pao chicken, and garlic string beans. You can get better Chinese in Portland, but this was better than many places in Charlotte.

  Soon enough I co
uld wait no longer or I’d be paying more attention to my body than to Nils. I went in search of a bathroom.

  The narrow hallway felt dark and cramped, though the walls were painted cream. The length and lack of light made me feel like I was walking through a tunnel on a rainy afternoon. I thought about the men and women who had to push equipment down this corridor and felt for them. Really, though, I felt for me, given that there were bulbs only every four feet and far too many shadows. An industrial gray carpet looked black in the dimness.

  Any discussions that might be taking place in other rooms were hidden by the sound-proofing leaving me alone with the humming of the air conditioner. If something happened out there, I had little hope of help coming.

  The women’s room, when I came to it, was an old style stall bathroom with three stalls. Dark brown metal partitions offered privacy, though legs could be seen under them. I ducked down to look under the doors. No one. Behind me three sinks hung on the wall, the far one with a slight chip, a black scar against the white porcelain.

  My heart hammered just standing there. My palms sweated and my bladder threatened to not even allow me to make it to the toilet.

  I reminded myself that I was safe, probably. Outside the sun was shining, people were walking around on the streets, cars were driving by. There were people on the other side of the wall, probably, and upstairs and down.

  No one had died in this building and certainly not in this bathroom.

  Logic doesn’t work against fears.

  Still, my bladder demanded I go. I cautiously took the stall closest to the door, latching it.

  I settled on the toilet, hearing the paper I’d set around the edge of the seat crinkle slightly as my weight moved it. I smelled the old smells of cleansers over the stark aromas of bodily functions. I swallowed and allowed myself to go.

  Naturally, now fear made my bladder clench. A second ago, I’d practically wet myself.

  I closed my eyes and started counting, hoping that would take my mind off things.

  I pictured my house. My semi-safe bathroom where there was one toilet and I had the doors open and the lights on, where my clear shower curtain showed me what was in the tub, which was always scrubbed clean so that no shadows marred my view, particularly if I were only half awake.

  Finally I was able to go. I almost sighed with relief.

  My pants were pulled up, the button being fastened when I heard the single drip of a faucet.

  Bile rose. My heart threatened to hammer its way out of my chest like the creature in the movie Alien.

  My palms heated up even as my fingers shook so hard I could hardly fasten the single button.

  I needed to get out, but if I left, I worried what I might see.

  I heard the creak of a door from the stall down the way.

  I pressed my back against the cold divider.

  Tears formed in my eyes. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, but there was no hiding.

  My nightmare had returned.

  Time stretched. I listened, straining to hear whatever was coming towards me get closer, but my ears picked up nothing.

  My lungs strained.

  I drew in a shaky breath, trying to be quiet but unable to do so.

  The door to the hall opened.

  “I can’t believe this,” a woman’s voice said. Unfamiliar. Probably from another studio on the floor. There were a total of three of them

  I breathed out easier than before. I buttoned my pants, though my hands were still shaking, my fingers curled into claws, still, though now I could use them.

  I slipped out of the stall, hoping the other women were in too much of a hurry to notice the tear tracks on my face.

  I washed my hands.

  Splashed water on my face, drying it quickly.

  I didn’t want to look like I’d been in there crying. If I looked too bad even Nils would start to question me and Deborah would never let the subject drop until I came up with something to appease her.

  I didn’t look too long in the mirror, There was a shadow behind me, like the faintest outline of a skull.

  I hurried out, not willing to look at that faint shadow too closely, just in case it wasn’t just my overactive imagination.

  7

  Traci: September Now

  I made it through the rest of the day but as I had feared, particularly when even lunch was in the studio, we were running late. Nils couldn’t find a voice he liked. He got like that sometimes, never quite getting the exact pitch or intonation that he wanted. Either the voice actors sounded too Appalachian or didn’t have enough of an accent. I caught Anson rolling his eyes once and even Deborah started to slam things around.

  The day ended only an hour late and we headed back to the hotel in Nils’ van.

  “I’m just going down to the hotel restaurant,” Nils said. “If anyone wants to go out somewhere else, you all can expense it. Just don’t go overboard.”

  The Sheraton was tall, modern, and brightly lit in the lobby. It gave me hope. Music played from a darkened corner where they had a bar, which appeared to also serve food. The tables were spread out into the lobby, separated only by a black rope held up by gold poles. Three women and one man all in white shirts and black vests stood behind the huge black faux marble check in counter.

  Two were helping people holding luggage. The other two were talking. Nils walked up to one and waited to be greeted.

  I looked up at the large chandelier in the double height lobby. I saw a sign pointing to elevators around a corner. Another sign said restrooms down the same hallway. I smelled nachos, and my stomach growled.

  “I might just stay here,” Deborah was saying. “I don’t really know Raleigh and don’t want to wander into the wrong neighborhood.”

  As if the bank would put us in a place where we’d be in danger. But I wasn’t about to tell Deborah anything like that. It would probably start an argument and give her an excuse to start talking about the wonders of Portland. That would allow her to bring up the dead woman in the rest stop up the freeway from there, which was not something I was eager to talk about.

  Nils gave us each our keys and then we headed up to our rooms. Nils was on the eighth floor. Deborah was on the third. Anson and I were both on the sixth, though we appeared to be at opposite ends.

  “They could have put us a little closer together,” Deborah complained.

  “We get what we get,” Nils said. “If Sandy doesn’t specifically ask for rooms close together, we’re usually all over the place. It’s not like we’re family.”

  Deborah snorted and let it go.

  “What about you?” Anson asked, looking at me. “Are you going to come down and join us for dinner? I was thinking maybe half an hour so we can get unpacked and check things out.”

  “Probably,” I said. “I’ll check out the room and then head down.”

  “My plan,” Nils said. “We’ll save seats if everyone is coming.”

  I didn’t want to spend too much time alone with Nils. I hated having to make small talk with my boss. He liked learning about his employees. I appreciated the interest he took in us but I didn’t want to have to field more questions about my past, particularly if Deborah mentioned the murder at the rest stop to him.

  The elevators were mirrored above and black everywhere else. The mirrors reflected every trace of light making the little box much brighter than I normally would have expected. Everything boded well for a good night in the room.

  The sixth floor was done in blues and greens, bright enough to be cheerful but not so bright as to be garish. The cream walls were covered in blue and green wallpaper done halfway up to a chair rail in white wood. The carpets were the usual speckled blue and green hotel carpet that can be mistaken for nothing else. There must be a warehouse full of that stuff or a manufacturer that makes it just for hotels and other public institutions, always slightly oddly patterned so that buyers can spend hours trying to decide which was least likely to offend their best customers.r />
  I held my keycard near the scanner on the cream-colored door, and it unlocked easily. Inside I found a typical hotel room with a narrow hall near the door opening into a wider room beyond. While the drapes were open towards the back of the room, it was nearly dark outside so the room itself remained clothed in shadows.

  I turned on the light which was a bright overhead in the short entry. I was thankful for that. I walked in, dragging my overnight case, turning on the lights in the bright white bathroom. The lights over the sink came on first followed by the lights back where the toilet sat across from a shower. The cream tile of the shower wasn’t as reflective as white but it would do.

  In the main part of the hotel room, I found a lamp, a desk light, and two lights on either side of the bed. There was also a set of lights over the bed. I found switches to work all of them, turning them on, brightening the room. I opened my small overnight case and pulled out my two electric lanterns and set them out strategically. As I did that, I found a small light over the microwave which sat on a counter over the refrigerator.

  I surveyed the space once I had lighted the room as much as possible. A few shadows still lingered in corners, but they were small things, manageable on a normal night. I sighed. Hopefully it would be enough and I could sleep, though my stomach twisted itself in knots.

  I’d had so many nightmares right after my near death experience. I dreamed of the creature coming after me and when I dreamed about it, my home had always been dark. Just when I’d begin to think I could turn off a few of the lights I’d have the nightmare again and I’d remember why I always slept with everything on.

  The hotel bedspread was white, as were the sheets which helped brighten the place. The mustard colored chaise lounge next to the window did nothing to help, the rather ugly color almost eating the light. Even the black desk chair and espresso wood desk had more shine. At least the walls were cream, like those out in the hallway. The carpet remained the same as the carpet in the hallway, the darker blues and greens creating crawling effect and a few trailing shadows, but at least those shadows didn’t move.