Unravelling

by Josephine Boxwell

  Her thoughts of Frank are clear. His sharp green eyes set against his narrow face. Body odour and dirt clinging to his t-shirts. Jeans with worn-out knees. A rule breaker who could be relied upon, most of the time.

  They weren’t colleagues, not exactly. Nobody in the town would’ve described them as friends, though few people knew her as well as he did. Frank was much younger but they were both Stapletonians born and raised. It was what they went through, the two of them, that brought them together and then broke them apart.

  They would all hate her if they ever found out. They wouldn’t understand that everything she did was for their own good. Frank hadn’t forgiven her, but at least he understood the difference between what is right morally, theoretically, and what is right in a particular moment in time.

  CHAPTER 3

  1 9 9 4

  “MAYBE WE COULD go inside first? He might be in there.” Elena desperately wanted to know what lay behind the walls that made Mamma lift her nose up and hurry by.

  “No, he’ll be around the back.”

  “But what if we just check inside first ...”

  Logan was already making his way through the side gate, NO FEAR stamped on his t-shirt and his neon green baseball cap on backwards. Elena’s hair was pulled back in a scrunchie of the same shade. She followed him around the building and into the sprawling mess of Frank’s yard. They had to tread carefully to avoid the metal bones of long-lost machines.

  At the far end of the yard, a rickety saw rigged to an old generator moved mechanically back and forth, rocking its wooden frame and cutting a perfect line through a large boulder. It wasn’t like the industrial equipment Elena had seen at construction sites, or even the shiny blades that Dad fixated on at DIY stores. This contraption reminded her of the time Dad tried to temporarily repair the coffee table leg with gaffer tape. She teetered forwards and backwards beside the blade, mimicking its motion.

  She didn’t notice Frank until he leaned down beside her and his knees cracked. There were oil stains on his jean shirt. The pale blue truck he’d been driving when Rob tried to hitch a ride with him was parked just behind them, its hood propped up and its guts littered on the grass.

  “Y’know what that rock is, kiddo?”

  She paused for a moment, remembering Mary’s story about the Chinese miners. “Is it jade?”

  Frank grinned. “You’ve seen this before,” he said, impressed. She hadn’t seen anything like it before but nodded anyway. She couldn’t tell the difference in the cut from one motion to the next—the blade didn’t appear to be making any progress.

  “The water running off the rock is keeping the saw blade cool. Jade is harder than steel. It’s very tough to cut through it. You make yourself that tough kid and life will be easy.”

  Elena drew her eyes away from the motion. Frank had been watching her as she’d been watching the blade. Even as she stared back at him now, he didn’t look away.

  “Eventually, the rock will split into two and we’ll see the face of the jade. Unlike people’s faces, if you polish it up enough, you’ll always get a stunner.” Frank winked.

  “Where did you get the jade from?” she asked.

  He pointed to the foothills. They looked blue because they were so far away. Frank leaned forward, cupped his hands at the base of his back and stumbled around as if he was lugging something incredibly heavy. “I carried it down here myself,” he said in a deep voice. “I had to fight off five grizzlies, and I almost dropped it when I tried to scratch my ass.” The kids laughed and Logan had to jump out of the way before Frank lurched into him.

  Frank fumbled in his pockets and produced two tiny jade turtles. “Got something for you. Made them myself. They’re good luck.”

  Logan stuffed his turtle straight into his pocket, but Elena studied hers, the lines of the turtle’s shell; its four stumpy legs. It must’ve taken ages to carve a perfect little turtle out of such a hard rock.

  She turned it over and examined its belly. The tiny print read: MADE IN CHINA. She looked up at Frank.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  She read the little letters again. It didn’t really matter, did it? He was just trying to do something nice. She wrapped the turtle carefully in a tissue before tucking it into the pocket of her jean cut-offs.

  “Uncle Frank,” Logan announced in a serious tone, “we’re going to find out if there are ghosts in the Chinese Cemetery.”

  “Awesome!”

  “Can you help us?”

  “Sure! What do you need?”

  Frank was very enthusiastic about being their ghost tour guide, but Elena knew sooner or later he’d ask if Mamma was okay with it. “She already said yes,” Elena mumbled as soon as he brought it up. It was her turn to be dishonest. Frank pulled a surprised look but he accepted it and moved on.

  “The Inn is haunted y’know. By two restless souls. People like to say Stapleton is a quiet town, but it was different when my great-great grandfather established this inn. Back then you had to be tough to survive.”

  Logan bounced on the spot in his black sneakers. “Tell her about the ghosts.”

  “Two brothers were murdered in their beds. They haven’t left that room since.”

  Frank pointed at an upstairs window. The ghosts didn’t appear behind the glass to wave or stare back, but Logan pointed too and muttered: “I heard them once, making the floorboards creak when no one else was in the room.” Elena could picture them in the darkness beyond the window—long ghostly faces shadowed by their broad-rimmed hats.

  Stapleton would have been a row of wooden shacks back then, surrounded by miners’ tents. Elena had seen photos in the museum. The Inn stood out with its name painted large in capital letters above the long veranda. Whenever Frank talked about the Stapleton Inn, his face lit up and he pulled his shoulders back and Elena thought about how grand it must have been.

  “The brothers were looking for their uncle when they arrived in Stapleton,” Frank said. “Some miners told them typhoid killed him on the journey up, but those boys didn’t buy it. Their uncle was bringing up supplies to build Stapleton’s first general store. The brothers got close enough to the truth of what happened to him to end up dead themselves. The general store was built and the owner made more money than most of the miners. Those brothers are so angry about it, they still won’t leave the Inn.”

  “Uncle Frank even had a priest in there who couldn’t chase them out,” Logan said proudly because he knew his uncle had all the best stories.

  Elena thought about the hanging tree that still stood by the river, a short walk from the Stapleton Cemetery. Local legend held that the bodies of criminals and a few rebellious Natives swung from that tree during the Gold Rush. Elena thought it was the spookiest thing around and always hurried past its gnarled old limbs.

  “Did the murderers get caught?”

  Frank shook his head. “The brothers didn’t have people out here who knew them, who would fight for them. That’s how life was in those days.” Frank looked at their rapt faces. “Sometimes it still is.”

  “Can I hang out with Logan tomorrow?”

  “Where? What time?”

  “At the park.” Elena hesitated. “At night.”

  Mamma put down the salad spinner. Rob always complained about having to eat lettuce and Elena would pick out the croutons, but Caesar salad remained a summer staple in Mamma’s kitchen.

  “Why do you two want to go to the park at night?”

  “To look at the stars.”

  “Be back by 7 pm.”

  “But it won’t be dark ...”

  “7 pm. That’s my best offer.”

  Elena nodded and slipped around the corner into the living room before Mamma changed her mind.

  “Stop blocking the TV.”

  Dad didn’t even turn his head. She hopped onto the sofa next to him as orange chests and tight white legs sprinted down the field and crashed into their opponents. The football commentary came out of the walls i
n surround sound.

  Dad had bought the big screen and fancy speakers a few months ago. He and Ken spent half a day setting it all up, Ken smoking, Dad drinking and the pair of them taking it in turns to decipher the manual. When they’d finished, Elena, Rob and Mamma were allowed to come in and admire their handiwork. Dad said the BC Lions were going to take home the cup this year; that’s why they needed the big TV. Mamma said it made the room look smaller.

  When Ken left, Mamma and Dad fought about money. You could hear everything in their little home. Elena hated hearing them fight.

  The commentator announced a touchdown. Dad rose from his chair and roared at the screen. He sank down into the sofa again, his face split in a grin.

  When the ads rolled in, he turned to Elena, finger pointing. “I told you. This is our year.” He kissed her head and asked her to get him a cold can.

  Frank pulled out a flashlight but not to help them see. He put it under his chin and made a wavering “ooooooh” sound that was supposed to be creepy. Enough daylight remained as the sun gradually sank towards the horizon. Logan had been disappointed when Elena told him about her curfew, but he agreed 7 pm was better than nothing.

  Broken branches marked the path Ken and Rob had carved out a few days earlier. The dry summer had turned the grasses and leafy plants brittle and brown. The sagebrush smelled sweet and comforting.

  “There’s a lot of strange happenings in these parts,” Frank murmured ominously from behind them. “The Natives got a lot of stories to tell. But I want to know what you two found out about these ghosts.” He cast the flashlight around chaotically, to no effect, before switching it off.

  “They’re called hungry ghosts, and they come out from hell at this time of year,” Elena explained.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because nobody’s been feeding them.”

  “Is that right? Is there no food in hell?”

  “There is, but it’s gross food.”

  “Gross like human brains?”

  “Yeah.”

  The bushes grew thicker on both sides of the path and sewed them into single file. Elena wore the most inconspicuous clothes she owned; a dark purple t-shirt and black leggings. Logan marched ahead in a bright red Chicago Bulls shirt. It wasn’t as if they would actually see anything worth hiding from, but the anticipation gripped her just the same. Something scuttled through the leaves. Frank wailed faintly but he didn’t scare her.

  The trail opened up again by the headstones. The markers stood in silent rows, casting long shadows. Elena and Logan approached the first graves together, cautiously. Logan touched one stone very delicately, as though a firm push might tip it over and wake the dead.

  They looked across the empty cemetery, neither of them wanting to rush ahead in case there was any truth to Mary’s tale. The river rumbled through the quiet. No sign of ghosts.

  Logan turned to her. “Where were you when you saw something?”

  An eerie cry, higher than the river’s noise, echoed across the cemetery. Logan giggled, then spun around to see if Frank was responsible. Frank was behind them, plucking sagebrush leaves and inhaling the scent.

  Something was out there, in the gloom that cloaked the far side of the cemetery. Elena took a few steps forward because they were supposed to be investigating but she didn’t really want to find out what had made the sound. Logan matched her move, crunching gravel and long grass.

  They both saw it. Creeping through the bushes that blocked the river. White eyes, tiny at first, glowing brighter as a shadowy body emerged. The creature hissed, deep and low. Logan’s body slipped backwards out of the corner of Elena’s eye, but she couldn’t move. Fear gripped her so tightly she couldn’t even turn her head. It slunk closer. It looked like a large person, except for its long neck. Elena’s entire body went cold, as if she’d jumped in an icy lake and her toes couldn’t find the bottom.

  “Whatcha lookin at?” Frank bellowed behind them.

  The figure shrank back before vanishing into the foliage. Frank pushed Logan further forward, but he grabbed Frank’s sleeve and spun himself around so his uncle was between him and the gravestones.

  “We saw something ... over there.” Logan pointed at the bushes by the river’s edge.

  “Probably just a coyote.”

  The children looked at each other nervously.

  Frank leaned towards his nephew. “D’you think it was a ghost?”

  “Mary said if the ghosts see you, they’ll put a curse on you,” Logan whispered.

  Frank chuckled. “That’s nothing. I heard a story about this one guy who saw a ghost out by Emmet Lake ...”

  “... We should go,” Logan said, interrupting. “Elena has to be home by seven.”

  “We’ve got a few minutes.” Frank checked his watch. “But I guess if you guys are too chicken ...”

  “... We’re not chicken! We’re here, aren’t we?” Logan said.

  Frank shrugged. “I gotta get going anyway. If I leave the regulars to run the Inn for too long, it’ll be a lot scarier than this place when I get back.”

  The kids rushed back to the truck as though the path was too hot for their feet to touch the ground. The truck’s engine roaring to life was a welcome sound but Elena couldn’t begin to relax until her mom opened the front door.

  “How was the park?” she asked. Elena stuttered: “Fine.”

  Dad wasn’t home. The house wasn’t properly warm until he came home. After her experience at the cemetery, she couldn’t wait to see him. He would crack open a can, relax on the couch and remind her that ghosts only existed in movies. She waited for the sound of his key in the lock and the stomp of his boots on the doorstep as he kicked off the dirt. Mamma hated dirt in the house. She could see dirt where no one else could.

  They all heard the bang. It felt close and yet sounded distant, like thunder. They peered out of the windows but there was nothing to see except shadowy houses in the twilight.

  Others heard it and stepped out onto the street. The adults waved at each other. Nodded. Crossed the road and chatted. No one knew what it was or where it had come from. After a couple of minutes, they headed back inside and closed their doors. Rob returned to his shoot-em-up game and Elena curled up beside Mamma, who was watching her favourite cop show. Elena couldn’t follow the drama. Her heart was pounding. She couldn’t stop thinking about the curse.

  There was a sudden burst of knocking on the door. Maybe Dad lost his keys. Elena dashed into the hallway, opened the door, ready to propel herself into his big arms.

  A heavy young man filled the doorway. The whites of his pupils popped eerily against his skin, powdered with ash that also covered his clothes. He coughed violently, and with each gasp his body began to droop slowly in on itself. The stench of burning filled Elena’s nostrils.

  She knew the man. He had come to the house before, although he never came inside. He lived on the reserve and drove Dad home from work once when the truck broke down. Elena had opened the door on that occasion too. He’d smiled at her then from his truck, a warm smile that spread across his face. His name was Brandon.

  “Brandon,” she squeaked. He didn’t seem to hear her.

  He unfurled his fingers. They were burnt and blistering. She followed the march of his receded jacket sleeve with her eyes. It was charred up to his elbow, the skin beneath it seared red. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. She watched a tear slip away from him, unattached, as if he wasn’t aware that it had left his eye. Another tear followed and she realized her own eyes were stinging.

  Elena touched his wrist very gently; the red, raw skin. She wanted to see if he could feel anything. He didn’t even flinch. She took his good arm and led him into the kitchen. The water from the kitchen faucet ran ice cold; that would be good for him, she thought, but he wouldn’t drink. She pulled a bag of ice out of the freezer, wrapped it in a tea towel and tried to present it to him.

  “Elena, what are you doing ...?” Mamma was in the doorw
ay. Her words emptied out when she saw Brandon. “Go see your brother.”

  “But ...”

  “... Now! And tell him to get off the phone.”

  Rob threw his dirty socks at Elena. He didn’t like to be interrupted when he was talking to Ashley, his girlfriend. Even the sound of Elena’s voice in the background embarrassed him when he was talking to Ashley. Elena tried to tell him about the burnt man, but he wouldn’t listen. Then they heard the chop-chop of helicopter blades passing over their thin roof. Rob raced through the hallway and into the kitchen. Elena scuttled after him. She could hear Brandon coughing.

  Brandon was speaking very softly when they entered. “Curtis was ahead of me and then he disappeared ...”

  Elena felt certain as she watched them, Brandon in shock and Mamma trying to reach out to him, that it was the curse. It was real. It had torn through the mill, and now Dad was missing.

  “What do you mean he disappeared?” Mamma panicked. Brandon started coughing again and Mamma looked desperate enough to grab hold of him and try to shake the words out. Then she spotted Elena in the doorway and picked up the phone to call an ambulance.

  Loud voices disturbed the quiet road. Sirens grew until they pierced their paper-thin walls. Elena put her windbreaker and sneakers on. She had to find him. It was all her fault.

  Elena slipped out while Mamma helped Brandon drink some water. A few neighbours were standing on the street again, listening to the little planes coming in overhead, the kind that dump water on forest fires. No one seemed to notice as she ran past them and headed up the steep adjoining street.

  Logan’s house was the second in a row of blue-grey town-houses. His bedroom window faced the street; it had a skateboard decal in the bottom corner. She knocked on the front door, and then again, louder. Logan opened the door enough for her to see his frightened face. He was thinking it too. The curse. She opened her mouth to speak, but he slammed the door shut before any words came out.