The Girl Who Wasn't There

by Nick Clausen

  DAY 50

  Andy completely forgets about the book tucked in the back of his schoolbag, until finally one evening, he pulls out his atlas to do his geography homework, and the book incidentally pops out and falls to the floor.

  He looks down at it and is instantly reminded of Rebecca. Not that he ever forgot about her, of course, but brief intervals have begun showing up, maybe half a minute or so passing without him thinking of her. Now, at the sight of the book he took out of the library that fateful day, it all comes rushing back for the millionth time, and Andy chokes up.

  The first days after Rebecca disappeared were full of questions and police officers and solemn looks and more questions.

  “What was the last thing Rebecca said to you?”

  “Did you see which way she went?”

  “Did you guys fight before you separated?”

  “How long were you inside the library?”

  “Did you hear her talking with anyone?”

  “Did she mention anything about where she might go?”

  “Did anyone threaten you or Rebecca earlier that day?”

  And so on.

  Andy answered to the best of his ability. He also told the police about the yellow van.

  “Did you see the van parked outside the library, Andy?” the officer with the deep voice asked him.

  “No, but …”

  “Did you see Rebecca through the rear window when the van went past you?”

  “There was no rear window. But the knocking …”

  “You said you thought the sound came from the van’s engine?”

  “That was what I thought at first, yeah, but … then I got the idea, you know, what if it was Rebecca knocking?”

  The officer gave him a long look, then he nodded, and did not ask about the yellow van again.

  Andy’s not stupid; he can see there’s no evidence to support his theory. No one else reported seeing the yellow van near the library that day. Andy didn’t see who was driving it. The van could have had absolutely nothing to do with Rebecca’s disappearance.

  Yet Andy just can’t forget about the knocking, or the red brake light staring at him like an evil eye. For every day passing without the police finding Rebecca, Andy has grown more and more certain that the knocking was Rebecca pounding on the inside of the van. If he had only thought to take down the license number, then the police could at least have found the van and checked it out.

  He has tried telling both Mom and Dad about it, but neither of them really seem to listen anymore. They’ve both gone into a strange state Andy has never seen them in before. It’s like they aren’t themselves anymore.

  Mom’s eyes are always glazed, and some days she doesn’t get out of bed. Other days she walks around the house and tries to do normal things, like vacuuming or doing the laundry. But she keeps stopping, staring out into nothing. As though she forgets for several minutes what she’s doing.

  Dad mostly keeps to himself and very rarely speaks. Andy sees him cry now and then, when he thinks he’s alone. In the beginning, he went for long drives in his car, returning hours later without a word to anyone about where he had been.

  One day, when Andy saw Dad take the car keys, he mustered up the courage and asked where he was going.

  Dad just looked at him with an empty gaze and said: “Where do you think I’m going, Andy? I’m going out to look for my daughter, of course.”

  There was no anger in the voice, yet Andy felt the words land on him like bee stings.

  No one has ever said it outright, not Mom or Dad, not Cindy or Aunt Clair who had visited a few times, not the police officer with the deep voice or the shrink Andy went to see for a couple of weeks, not the teachers at school or any of his classmates, not even the neighbors or anyone else in town. Yet they all know it. Andy can feel it right under the surface. They all agree on that simple, horrible truth.

  If Andy hadn’t gone into the library that day …

  If he had only kept his promise to not let Rebecca out of sight …

  But Andy did go into the library.

  He did leave Rebecca out of sight.

  And he’s been trying desperately not to think about that day ever since.

  But now, as he is standing in his room, staring at the book he took out only a few minutes after he saw Rebecca for the last time, the feelings of dread and guilt and regret come rushing back, and Andy tears up, his bottom lip begins bobbing.

  He hasn’t picked up a book since Rebecca disappeared, hasn’t read a single page; he just hasn’t felt like it, although he used to read at least a book a week, usually two or three. But the mere thought of going near the library now makes him almost physically ill.

  Andy chokes back the sobs, wipes his eyes and picks up the book. With a sigh, he sits down on his bed and studies the secretive, dark-red cover. It must have gone way past its due date, and he probably owes a library fine on it now.

  He opens the book and finds the author name on the title page: Algernon Blackwood. Andy has never heard of that author before, but the book looks to be at least a hundred years old, so the guy is probably long dead.

  He absentmindedly leafs through the first few pages, reads a couple of paragraphs, and then he disappears.

  The language is fluent and colorful, the descriptions so vivid that Andy has no problem getting immersed in the plot.

  The evening grows dimmer outside the window, the church bells chime somewhere in the distance, marking the hours passing by, and Andy turns the pages.

  The story plays out way up in Canada more than a century ago. It follows a group of men on a moose hunt, venturing deep into the huge Canadian forests, reaching territory where no man has ever set foot. In there, they encounter something strange. A demonic creature dwells in the forest, luring in people who have gone astray by imitating voices. Wendigo, the monster is called. If it catches you, it’ll break down your psyche and suck the life force from within you, until you’re nothing but an empty shell. But first, it’ll light your feet on fire and poke out your eyes.

  Why?

  Because eyes and feet are the only two things that can save a person lost in the woods.

  Andy feels the fear come creeping like ants on his skin, his heart pounding away in his chest. At one point, he has to close the book and look around, making sure he’s still safe in his room and not trapped in an endless forest. A part of him wants to put away the book and never pick it up again. It’s late, and he has to get up tomorrow morning to go to school. But another part of him wants to keep reading, demands it. That part needs to know how the story ends.

  It’s just a story. Wendigos aren’t real. Get a grip, you big wuss.

  Andy takes a deep breath, peels open the book once more and dives back in.

  Andy has already read quite a few horror stories in his life. He has even taken on some of the heavier monsters, like Dracula, or Cthulhu, or Pennywise the Clown. But the wendigo scares him in a way none of the others ever managed to do. There is something absolutely terrifying about that invisible thing lurking in the woods, just waiting patiently for someone to come close enough …

  The plot flows along easily enough to begin with, the mood getting slowly darker despite nothing really happening. Until about a third of the way in, that is; then something happens which almost makes Andy scream out loud.

  The men have set up camp for the night, when suddenly, one of them is dragged to his feet and flung out of the tent, like some invisible force pulling him away. And as he disappears into the darkness of the woods, his voice can be heard by the other men:

  »Oh! oh! My feet of fire! My burning feet of fire! Oh! oh! This height and fiery speed!«

  Andy reads the line again and again, and every time he does so, his palms grow sweatier. He understands what has happened to the poor guy, and yet he doesn’t. Something—the wendigo—has taken him. And the part about his feet burning—is it meant to be taken literally, that they simply burst into flames, or did the man lose his
mind on the spot, like a house of cards collapsing? What exactly does the invisible demon do to him? The text simply isn’t clear enough and leaves it up to the reader’s imagination—which somehow only makes it worse.

  Andy reads on with bated breath. More than once he tries again closing the book. The problem is, his fingers don’t obey him anymore; they just eagerly keep turning pages.

  When he finally reaches the conclusion of the story, he feels dizzy. He looks to the clock on his nightstand. It’s past 2:00 AM. His parents have long since gone to bed. Andy doesn’t recall ever having been awake at this hour, not even on New Year’s Eve.

  He’s about to put the book away, when he notices something. On the very last page, a piece of paper is pinned. It’s a library receipt, one of those automatically printed out by the terminal when you borrow a book. Someone apparently used it as a bookmark. The text is faded but still readable.

  Lisa Labowski, the name on the receipt reads. The date is August 16, eighteen years ago.

  Amazing to think the paper has been in the book for eighteen years without someone removing it. Perhaps the book simply hasn’t been read by anyone for that long.

  Andy reads the name again.

  Lisa Labowski … I think I heard that name before …

  He tries to remember, but he’s too exhausted to think straight, so he closes the book and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

  In his dreams, Andy travels to the Canadian woods to hunt for moose. It’s winter, and it’s very cold and dark.

  Suddenly, he sees Rebecca between the dead trees. She has her back to him. Andy feels his heart leap and he runs towards her. But it’s difficult to move his legs right, so he only very slowly gets closer. Instead, he calls out for her.

  “Becca! Becca, it’s me! I’m coming!”

  Rebecca turns her head sideways, as though she hears him. But something is wrong with her eyes. Is she crying? No, Andy realizes to his horror, it’s not tears streaming down Rebecca’s cheeks—it’s blood.

  Then, the wendigo steps out from behind the tree. The demon is even more terrifying than he imagined. It looks kind of like a human, but at the same time not at all. It’s much taller and sickly skinny, the skin is ashy gray and paper-thin, clinging to the bones and revealing the dark veins underneath. The eyes are small and dark and deep-seated, the lips are cracked and bloody.

  Andy can only look in horror as the creature goes to take Rebecca’s hand and leads her away, his sister following along willingly, like a sleepwalker or a zombie, completely unaware of what’s going on. Andy tries to scream to her, but no sound comes out of his mouth. Rebecca turns her head to look back one last time just before she disappears into the darkness with the wendigo, and Andy sees her lips mouthing the words: “Help me.”

  Andy sits up in bed with a choked cry. He stares around his room, his heart in his throat.

  “The wendigo took Becca,” he whispers hoarsely. “It was the wendigo …”

  DAY 51

  The next morning, as Andy is awakened by the alarm, the images from the nightmare have mercifully faded to nothing but vague shadows at the back of his memory.

  On his way to school, Andy rides past the town church as usual. The old, white building surrounded by the graveyard is located right up against the park, so Andy takes the shortcut through the park, when he suddenly sees three girls a hundred yards away, blocking the path. Andy recognizes them immediately. It’s Sheila from Andy’s class and two eighth graders, Kimmie and Stacey. They’re posing for a group selfie. When they look at the result, they laugh out loud.

  Oh, crap, Andy thinks to himself, realizing he won’t be able to get past them unnoticed. That’s just my luck …

  Ever since Rebecca disappeared, everyone in his class has acted differently whenever Andy is around. They fall silent. As though not sure what to say. Even the teachers become awkward.

  Andy is used to being the quiet boy in class—the one who’s always reading a book at recess and only seldom gets any attention or is spoken to. And that hasn’t changed, but now he can sense everyone staring at him.

  Only Sheila is acting like she used to. She’s still bullying Andy like she has always done. In a strange way, Andy finds it somewhat comforting that at least this one thing hasn’t changed.

  But that doesn’t mean he’s in the mood for Sheila today. He sees the gate leading into the churchyard and makes a quick decision to cut across instead of going through the park.

  Just as he gets off his bike and starts for the gate, he hears one of the girls exclaim: “Hey, isn’t that Wisler from your class, Sheila?”

  Andy turns his head to see the girls looking in his direction.

  “Yeah, it is,” Sheila says. “Hey, Andy! Why are you going into the churchyard?”

  Andy doesn’t answer, but opens the gate and pulls his bike through. He restrains himself from running, just walks briskly along the gravel path winding through the many graves.

  “Andy! Hey, Andy! You got gravy in your ears, man?”

  Sheila’s voice is followed by shrill laughter. Andy is unsure what, but something makes him stop. It’s obviously a mistake; he should just keep moving. But he turns to look back.

  The girls are at the gate. Sheila is wearing a tight black top, way too cold for this time of year, which reveals her boney shoulders and flat chest. Kimmie is sucking noisily from a McDonald’s cup.

  Sheila glares at Andy with a stupid smile. “Come on over here, Andy. I need to talk with you real quick.”

  Andy feels the heat rise to his face. It’s part embarrassment, part frustration with himself for stopping. Now that they’re staring right at each other, he can’t just turn and leave.

  Of course you can. Why should you stay and listen to her bullcrap? She’s only going to humiliate you. Go. Just go!

  But he stays rooted.

  “You can have the rest of Kimmie’s milkshake if you come,” Sheila says alluringly.

  Kimmie almost chokes with laughter, spraying out pink milkshake on the gravel. She holds up the cup and dangles it in the air. “Come on, piggy! Come get a treat!” She tries to say something more, but is interrupted when Stacey breaks into hysterical laughter.

  Sheila is the only one not laughing. She just holds Andy’s gaze, her smile widening ever so slightly. “Seriously, Andy,” she says in an almost friendly tone, stepping into the churchyard. “I just have one little question for you.”

  Andy turns and starts walking.

  “Hey, Andy!” Sheila calls out, a clear note of insult in her voice now. “I’m talking to you! Don’t just walk away—that’s rude!”

  Andy keeps walking. Now that he finally got moving, he walks fast enough for his backpack to jump up and down.

  “Let him go, he probably got hungry!” Kimmie shouts, sending Stacey into another manic case of high-pitched laughter.

  “Fat idiot,” is the last, scornful words Andy hears from Sheila, before the girls’ voices dissipate behind him.

  Andy looks back to see them no longer at the gate. His pulse is beating fast, as though he was just running, and he waits a moment for his heart rate to slow down.

  What the heck got into her? I know she’s always picking on me, but she’s definitely gotten worse lately. It’s like she—

  Andy’s gaze falls on the tombstone by the grave right in front of him, and his thoughts immediately stop as he reads the engravement:

  Lisa Labowski

  Here lies our beloved daughter

  Andy just stares at the name for several seconds. Then he reads the date at the bottom. July 17, eighteen years ago. At first, he doesn’t really get it. Not consciously, anyway, but something inside him begins to feel very funny at the sight of the date, until suddenly, it dawns on him.

  No … that can’t be. I must remember it wrong.

  He needs to know for sure, so he takes off his backpack and finds the book, opens it and takes out the receipt. His fingers are shaking as he holds it up.

&nb
sp; He stares at the date on the paper.

  Then back at the tombstone.

  Then back at the paper once more.

  He didn’t remember it wrong. Which means there has to be some other logical explanation for the impossible discrepancy in the dates. And there are plenty of possible answers, all clambering in his mind, like eager students wanting to be heard by the teacher.

  It has to be a flaw in the library system, one thought suggests. The machine simply printed the wrong date.

  It’s not Lisa Labowski herself who borrowed the book, another one argues. Someone just took it out in her name.

  It’s not even the same Lisa Labowski, a third thought interjects. There are two of them: the one who borrowed the book and the other one who’s buried right here.

  All of the answers are reasonable. All of them make sense. All of them could be true.

  And yet, none of them feel true to Andy. None of them can fight back the goose bumps making their way up his spine. And if none of the answers are true, then he’s left with one simple fact.

  Lisa Labowski borrowed the book from the library a month after she died.

  Andy can’t really shake the thought of Lisa Labowski. All day in school he has to strain to concentrate on anything else, since his thoughts keep going in circles about the dead girl.

  Luckily, Sheila has apparently forgotten their little rendezvous by the church; she’s busy talking with her friends and doesn’t bother Andy. This gives him time to brood.

  Did Lisa Labowski really borrow the book after her death? Despite Andy’s vivid imagination, he doesn’t really believe in ghosts or other fantasy creatures. Part of him wants to think they really do exist somewhere in the world, and that you can encounter them like people do in books and movies, but that’s mostly the child in him. The rational, soon-to-be-a-grown-up part of him knows it’s all just made up.

  And yet he keeps thinking about Lisa Labowski as a ghost girl. So, he decides to investigate—if nothing else, at least to give himself peace of mind.

  So as soon as school ends for the day, Andy heads straight for the bike shed, grabs his bike and rides through town.