The Haunting of Steely Woods

by Bonnie Elizabeth

  I wished the lights would come on.

  The air conditioning kicked in with a clunk and I jumped. The air flowed over my head, lifting my hair and I was reminded of the minister brushing away the skeletal hand.

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My stomach knotted.

  I tried to tell myself this was normal from the air conditioning and that I had nothing to fear.

  I heard a clank and scratching coming from the air conditioning vent. I was again reminded of the skeletal presence I had seen dragging itself through the image on the screen.

  The sound repeated.

  Pause.

  Repeat.

  Whatever was up there was getting louder. Closer.

  My breath hitched.

  My chest felt too tight to take in a breath. I didn’t dare. I shook all over.

  How much more of this could I take? I had thought I was doing something. Now this.

  “Why?” I whispered.

  I felt this rush of anger, as if I were standing in front of the angriest person I knew and hearing them vent, feeling the fear that they were going to hit me or lash out with something even worse than a fist. The physical sensation of that anger and fear made me cringe.

  The sounds coming from the air conditioner stopped, as did the air.

  I heard nothing.

  There was the faintest smell of spoiled milk and then that too was gone.

  The lights came up.

  My chest loosened enough so I could breathe, though I didn’t draw as much air in as I’d like. I was still alone. Could still be harmed.

  The elevator dinged.

  I held onto the window sill where I was crouched to keep myself from running out into the hallway to meet whoever was on the elevator.

  I imagined running towards the sound only to find a skeletal figure coming out, grinning back at me, the lights darkening around me.

  Instead of moving, I listened to voices murmuring, felt the slight tremble of the floors as a dozen or so people walked out of the elevator, heading to cubicles and offices.

  Now I could let in all the air I needed. Now I could focus on calming my heart.

  I glanced up at the air vent. It was just over my desk. Usually I liked that. Now, it worried me. I pictured an arm snaking down behind me as I tried to work.

  I remained by the window, biting my lip, trying to decide what to do.

  Before I’d begun to think about facing my fears they had been limited in scope. Yes, bathrooms were important and I couldn’t avoid them. Yes, darkness was hard to avoid but I’d managed it and still had some sort of life, though most would say it was a dull existence.

  Now, though, now… Now everything in my life was up for grabs. A meeting hall surrounded by people, my office, my office chair, places I hadn’t worried about before.

  I tried to get up to leave. I leaned against the wall to help but even that wasn’t enough. I slid down and wrapped my arms around myself, head down on my knees, not caring how I looked. After all, I had an excuse that day didn’t I?

  I stayed that way until Will found me.

  26

  Lucy: Early Fall Then

  The wind made it feel colder than it was and even the tall trees didn’t stop the breeze from cutting through Lucy’s thin jacket. If she’d had a heavier coat, she’d have worn it, but coats cost money that Alma said they didn’t have. Lucy put on a second shirt from her pillowcase and hurried through the woods, hoping that movement would keep her warmer.

  The wind rattled the branches of the trees together making enough of a racket that if someone were following her, Lucy wouldn’t know. Now and then birds would titter to each other and that would make her feel calmer. Surely if there was someone else there, the birds would go silent.

  The whole woods smelled of pine. There was a hint of rain in the air too, that damp scent that said darker clouds were coming, heavy with water. Lucy shivered in anticipation. If she could smell the rain, it wasn’t far off and she’d be soaked before she made town.

  She could hurry to school but Lucy wasn’t sure she trusted the people there. Alma may have made an excuse for her and someone could call her and tell her Lucy had arrived for lessons.

  No, she had to keep moving. It would make sense to try and grab a ride from the freeway but instead she headed towards the main road through town. If men she did know, had known since she was a baby, couldn’t wait to put their sweaty hands on her naked body, Lucy worried that strangers would do even more horrible things, though her mind could conjure no images of anything worse than what had gone before.

  Lucy hoped to run into Mrs. Pinterstock heading to the post office. Maybe someone in the larger town would be going to Olympia or Portland and she could get ride with them. She had to stay hidden until she saw the right car, though. It wouldn’t do to let Alma see her. She had no idea what her sister might do.

  Lucy rubbed her nose with her cold fingers as she sniffled. She wouldn’t cry. How had this sister who she had loved come to be someone who would lock her in the trailer so Lucy couldn’t even go to school? It was like Alma was trying to destroy her.

  Lucy would never do that to a younger sister if she had one. If she were the oldest, she’d have told the men to jump in a lake and found a real job. Maybe she’d have moved them far away and into a city where she could find a job that would pay for a room for a couple of young women.

  It would have been better for both of them, but Alma had been too scared and had insisted upon staying around, trying to live on handouts from creeps. If Alma had made better decisions, she would have seen that letting Lucy finish school and get a good job, as a secretary or even a nurse, would have helped both of them.

  But no. Alma made her decision and when she had gotten tired of that life, she foisted it off on her sister. Except Alma worked Lucy harder than she had ever worked herself. It had only been on Sundays that Alma had had a man in her bed, a man who allowed her to keep her job and the crummy trailer. She expected Lucy to spend just about every night of the week with a man, each one different and horrible in his own way. And when those men paid, they gave their cash to Alma, not Lucy.

  No more.

  The trees thinned and the small township came into view. It was a sad place really, just a single road with the gas station, the café, and general store. A small sheriff’s station was around the corner, as if by hiding it, the sheriff could catch more criminals. The fire department was up the road a few miles, near the post office, the hotel, and the grocery store. You could get most things at the general store, but groceries were cheaper if you could get over there.

  Out of the trees, the wind whipped harder. Lucy had to plant her feet to keep from being pushed forward. It was going to be quite a storm. If Alma saw her, it would probably frighten her into thinking the trailer had been smashed. That would serve her right.

  Of course, with such a storm, Mrs. Pinterstock probably wasn’t going to the post office.

  Lucy waited near the edge of the trees, watching the road. No cars went past. She continued to wait, standing still, watching. The wind howled under the eaves of the café and rattled branches. Rain fell. It wasn’t a hard rain, just an easy, steady mist that made it hard to see.

  A big black pickup cruised down the road. Not Mrs. Pinterstock. Lucy didn’t go running out, although she was cold enough that she considered it.

  The café door banged open and Alma marched out. She turned back to someone and swore at them. She tossed aside her apron and stomped across the street. Something had displeased her. Lucy slipped back into the woods, hoping her sister wouldn’t see her. She huddled off the path, sinking down into a crouch but not willing to crawl under a bush because of how wet it was.

  “Asshole,” Alma was snarling. “I’ll get him a treat. A girl treat. Goddamn it, Lucy better not fight me on this. I am so not in the mood.”

  Lucy listened to the rant for as long as she was able, holding her position and trying not to give away where she was. She wasn�
�t worried about sound, but worried Alma might catch a hint of her movements and be tempted to look closer.

  She needn’t have worried. All the trees and bushes swayed and rattled in the wind. An army could have been crouched down in hiding and a single walker would have been none the wiser.

  Lucy hurried out to the road after her sister disappeared. She walked along the street, not staying too close. She regretted letting the truck go by. She needed a ride out of town. She’d stay on the road for as long as she could and then duck into the fields or the woods if it got too late. Alma might not have a car but that didn’t mean she couldn’t persuade someone else to go after Lucy.

  Lucy didn’t know exactly who needed a treat but she figured it was Clyde at the café. Maybe he wanted Alma instead of Lucy and Alma was having none of it.

  The rain started to fall harder. Lucy moved over to the tree line, hoping she’d remain drier. She couldn’t tell that it helped much, her coat and shirts were soaked through, water dripping down her bare skin beneath the layers.

  The rain made her even colder, and Lucy shivered so hard her teeth clicked together each time the wind tore through her thin clothing. Lucy was so miserable she didn’t hear the car drive by. Mrs. Pinterstock had gone out that day in her lovely sedan, which Lucy had longed to see. She ran to the road and waved her arms but Mrs. Pinterstock wasn’t looking at the rearview mirror.

  Lucy groaned. Tears threatened. Of all the days for Alma to decide she needed to be locked in, forcing her to make the decision, it had to be on such a miserable one.

  Feeling sorry for herself, Lucy didn’t hear the growl of the truck behind her until it was on her, stopping beside her.

  “Need a ride?” It was the bearded man. Lucy had long since learned he went by Will but she never thought of him like that. If he had a name, she had to consider that he might actually be human. Bearded Man made him a thing. It kept him equal to her.

  “I’m just walking,” Lucy said.

  “Get in,” he ordered.

  Lucy shook her head and walked further into the trees, hoping he wouldn’t get out.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when he drove on.

  It wasn’t too long after that she heard the growl of another truck but she stayed near the trees, hoping the driver would ignore her. She was getting close to the town, the real town, where there was a post office and a city hall and a real grocery store, not their little township that held so little.

  The truck stopped and Lucy’s stomach dropped. She looked over.

  Alma was hopping out and running towards her.

  Lucy bolted for the trees. She couldn’t be caught. Not now.

  Normally, Lucy was faster, but she was tired and wet. Alma was angry, the rage still carving her face into a parody of the lovely young woman she’d once been.

  Both women ran for their lives, but for different reasons.

  Lucy made it to the edge of town, crossing the backyard of a family. A red metal swing and a plastic tub for wading indicated children lived there. Lucy took note of those things, wondering if she should detour to bang on the door, when Alma grabbed her coat.

  Lucy struggled but Alma’s grip was strong. Stronger than Lucy would have thought.

  “You can’t run, you stupid little bitch. I am not filling in for you,” Alma snarled.

  “I am not your property,” Lucy screamed. She hoped that someone was home. Maybe the mother of those children. Maybe she’d come out and ask what was going on. But no one appeared.

  Alma started dragging Lucy along. The truck she had come in had followed their path but stayed on the road. Closer, Lucy saw the bearded man waiting, smiling in the cab.

  “Quite a workout you had there, Little Lucy.”

  Alma was trying to push her into the cab.

  Lucy spit at Will.

  He wiped the spit from his beard and glared at her, eyes hard.

  It was only then that Lucy realized she’d made a horrible mistake.

  “How much do I pay to address this particular insult?” he asked Alma.

  “How long she gonna be out of work?” Alma asked, pragmatically. Lucy could hear the edge in her sister’s voice that said she was mad, but Lucy had no illusions that the anger was at the bearded man. Alma was mad at her.

  “Long time,” the man said.

  Alma sighed, pushing Lucy in the truck. She didn’t immediately name a number.

  27

  Traci: September Now

  I preferred to travel by plane, as I felt safer in the air. It doesn’t seem like the kind of place a ghost would attack. Plus, planes were always crowded, and the life around me helped keep the spirits at bay.

  I’d had to make reservations late, which meant I’d purchased a first class ticket. I had aisle seats on both legs, the first to Phoenix and the second to Portland, which seemed like an odd way to go, but apparently, that was the easiest way to get there.

  I appreciated the comfortable seat which let me spread out and stretch my legs. In the plane I was surrounded by people which allowed me to relax a little. The noise of the engines kept me from hearing any strange sounds, like the drip of a faucet. First class smelled faintly of vodka and bacon. This was the early flight.

  After eating a bit, I settled back to sleep. I’d brought a kindle to read, but I was yawning before the plane took off. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so relaxed. While I didn’t know for certain that my ghost wouldn’t appear on the plane, I did know it tended to avoid crowded places. I avoided thinking about the moment it had reached a hand out to the minister talking about Deborah, though I thought only Anson, Nils, and I saw the hand. The noise and the movement as well as the fact that the plane flew above any clouds into a bright and sunny sky, all made me feel more comfortable.

  If I could have lived on a plane, I would have. It felt that safe.

  The sun shone brightly in Phoenix and I found a warm window to wait next to. I used the restroom shortly before landing and was able to avoid the public bathroom at the airport. I avoided drinking too many fluids. I was antsier at the airport, as if being closer to Lucy made my fears stronger. Still, there were plenty of people around. Noise cascaded over me, the beeps of moving vehicles, the sounds of people talking, and the intercom announcing flights and boarding kept me from hearing anything I shouldn’t.

  Arriving in Portland was hard. The familiar blue carpet that looked like someone had dropped pink confetti on it gave me a chill. The cloudy day made the terminal feel too dark, despite the lights. I had only my carry-on. I would have to purchase an electric lantern along with my other paraphernalia after leaving the airport. Fortunately, Portland was home, and I knew where I could shop.

  Years had changed the place. Instead of driving down a road to get to I-205, looking at low trees and bushes, I was met with a large strip mall on the inland side that included a Best Buy and an Ikea. There were more cars than I remembered, and I struggled to stay with traffic. I’d booked a Best Western in Vancouver across the river in Washington because it had had the lowest price.

  It was only four but I got stuck in traffic crossing the I-205 bridge. If I remembered correctly there was a Fred Meyer just off the Mill Plain exit. I’d stopped there often when I was going up to see Ronette. It was the place I’d normally pick up my Diet Coke and any snacks before heading back on the road to visit my friend. I wondered how much the store had changed.

  The Mill Plain exit came up faster than expected and I almost missed the turn off. Someone behind me honked, reminding me that this was no longer my home.

  I hadn’t set a radio station. Everything about the little Kia was different from my own car. I drove quickly while trying to get used to the unfamiliar layout. I hoped I’d signaled before going over. Of course, if the person behind me had wanted to be mad, they’d be mad no matter what.

  Rain started to fall, that light rain that was just hard enough that you couldn’t see out the windshield, but doesn’t wet the glass enough to allow the windshiel
d wipers to work smoothly. The Kia’s squeaked and squawked at me as I drove. I found the Fred Meyer and drove around the parking lot looking for a space. The store seemed busier than it used too, or maybe I just wasn’t used to being there at right around rush hour.

  I finally found a spot as a woman in a Subaru pulled out. I parked and hurried inside, trying to cover my head. The evening was darker than I had thought it would be. While I had expected it to be darker than Charlotte, knowing the Pacific Northwest was rarely without at least a few clouds, I had forgotten how much further north the area was. We were going into fall. The sun was already starting to sink below the horizon.

  At least it wasn’t full dark just yet. Unfortunately, there was a good chance it would be before I got to the hotel, especially if I stopped for a meal. I sighed. There was no help for it now. In Charlotte, even at this hour, it would still be full light.

  I hurried through my shopping, thankful for the people that I had to push around and the woman who bumped into me. I hovered over apples that smelled heavenly. I used to take that smell for granted. There were apples in Charlotte, but they weren’t these apples that looked and smelled so perfect, almost glowing with nutrition that they were dying to offer.

  I couldn’t help myself and purchased some, though I didn’t really need food. I got two electric lanterns, an extra flashlight, plenty of batteries, candles, incense, salt, garlic, and paper. I’d found a sage bundle for clearing at Whole Foods before I left. I considered more food besides the apples and picked up some candy as well as some crackers and cheese. I could easily fix that for myself as a snack if I were hungry later on.

  I packed up my purchases and headed up the highway to the hotel. It was nearly full dark now. I suspected if it wasn’t so cloudy there would have been light on the horizon, a pink band leaving me hope of getting somewhere before full dark. Unfortunately, I’d hit a cloudy afternoon. I shouldn’t have expected anything else. Charlotte had spoiled me.