The Door (Part One)

by Lizzy Ford

  Chapter Four

  The alarm was no easier to obey the next morning, and Caretaker’s beating on my door roused me when I tried to sleep through it again.

  Irritable and sorer than before, I hobbled out of bed, dressed and glared at her as I entered the hallway. I shoved my dirty clothes in the washer before stumbling outside. It was a full half an hour before I managed to register the world, not until the sun was up.

  It was then I noticed some of my plants had vegetables growing on them, and one tree was eight feet tall and blooming with pink petals. I went through the effort of watering everything before stopping to stretch my stiff body and starting a new row.

  Today, the sight of my plants wasn’t enough to take the edge off my discomfort and irritability.

  At seven, I went inside for the buffet style breakfast.

  The house was quiet. I hung out inside in case any of the leather clad cavemen appeared for breakfast.

  No one did. Not even Caretaker. Disappointed yet also a little relieved, I went back to work and frequently peered around the corner of the house to see if anyone was coming or going. I couldn’t get the image of the two men disappearing out of my head. I had to find out where they went.

  When I’d finished another two rows and needed a break, I left the garden and orchard and went around front.

  I followed the driveway to the road and paused there. I saw no new tire tracks, no footprints, no sign anyone had walked onto the road, even though the driveway was riddled with footprints.

  What is going on here?

  “Girl!”

  Suppressing a sigh, I turned to face the front porch.

  “Hang up your laundry! I’m not running a hotel here,” Caretaker ordered.

  “You’re not running a bed and breakfast either,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t trust myself to respond in a way that wouldn’t send her inside to call my probation officer. I left my quest to figure out what was going on with the bizarre visitors and entered the house. The laundry room was on the top floor, at the end of my hallway. I pulled out my clothing from the ancient machine and held them up to the light.

  The visitor’s blood was gone.

  I stared, visions of the incident flashing through my thoughts. I’d never been able to get the blood out of my clothing from that night and ended up throwing it out. My hands dropped to my side.

  Would I have been better off not surviving the attack? Was my life going to be miserable forever? Would these feelings ever just … leave?

  The sound of Caretaker walking up the creaky stairs drew me from my dark thoughts. I picked up my laundry and left the cramped laundry room.

  “Clothesline is out back,” Caretaker said with her normal pleasantness.

  Clothesline. Did they not have dryers outside of New York?

  I started towards the stairs and noticed the door was open to the wounded man’s room. “Is everyone gone?” I asked casually.

  “Not the injured Tili.”

  “Did you say tea leaf?”

  “Tili. It’s a tribe of … you wouldn’t know, Yankee.”

  I turned. “What is your problem?” I demanded. “I’ve been working my ass off since I got here and you’ve been a total bitch.”

  “My problem, girl, is that they sent me a convicted murderer when I asked for someone more suitable.”

  “Suitable for what? A murderer isn’t good enough to plant a garden?”

  “We only have three hundred and sixty three days to go. Let’s get through this.”

  I stared at her. She was sorting her laundry by color, brushing me off completely. I’d never felt quite so … gross. Like I had some sort of deadly disease or maybe I should’ve let the rapist asshole hurt me or worse. I didn’t know how to express any of the complicated emotions, especially not to this woman, who had already judged, labeled and placed me on the shelf next to the rest of her collection of antiques.

  With effort, I didn’t tell her to go screw herself or break down and cry.

  “What’s his name?” I asked. “The tea leaf.”

  “It’s Tili. And none of your business.”

  I spun away, frustrated. My gaze lingered on Tea Leaf’s door. I left the second floor, grabbed a sandwich from the table and went to the garden.

  Munching, I was pleased with how my garden was blooming. But I was also pissed off. Instead of returning to work with the plants, I left the area to explore the property. A hundred acres wasn’t too big to explore in an afternoon, and I wasn’t motivated to do anything the old bat wanted.

  I set off to roam through the cactus thickets and mesquite bushes. The property was packed with fluffy, sand colored rabbits that looked too cute to be in the desert. I avoided the massive spiders and kept an eye out for the snakes as well.

  Reaching the fence farthest from the house, I followed it to a shallow, wide wash void of water whose bed was littered with rocks carried from all over whenever it rained, which I assumed wasn’t often in the desert. Dropping into the wash, I paused to pick through rocks, fascinated by the many colors and shapes. I collected three and straightened.

  For a split second, I thought I saw a dark figure outside the fence, watching me. I shielded my eyes against the afternoon sun and squinted.

  No one was present.

  I hadn’t yet shaken off my fatigue and crossed to the area. No one and nothing was visible anywhere in the desert. Assuming I was just tired still, I continued my exploration of the property. The heat was incredible; it radiated from the sun and was reflected by the ground. The broiling desert was quiet, and I relaxed as I made my way back towards the house. My probation officer claimed the desert was a healing place. I could almost feel why – it was like a sauna out here, and the heat made my muscles relax when I’d normally be tense from emotion.

  I caught movement from my peripheral and twisted to look. Once more, I saw a dark figure and again, once I blinked, it was gone.

  This time, I was pretty certain I saw it.

  “Everything about this place is weird.”

  Wiping sweat from my brow, I returned to the house to put away my dried laundry and then checked on my garden. The orchard trees were ten feet tall, the pink petals fluttering to the ground in the light breeze. Fascinated by the display, I went to the trees and stood beneath them, smiling when the pink flowers grazed my skin as they tumbled to the ground to pile at my feet.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I told the garden, not caring if the Caretaker or any Tea Leafs overheard me. No one, not even the cranky old woman running this place, could find fault in my beautiful garden.

  I checked my plants. Some of the vegetables appeared almost ready to be picked. I studied them, puzzled about my strange little garden yet happy with it as well. “Something good has to come out of my misery.”

  I caught a splash of red hidden among green leaves on some of the smaller bushes and knelt. Strawberries hung low enough to weigh down the plant. Excited to have a harvest, however small, I peeled off my t-shirt and carefully plucked the berries free. There were close to thirty, all ripe, huge and beautiful.

  “We’ll show that old bat,” I told them and stood, moving to the back porch.

  It was almost time for the sunset, and I debated waiting to show Caretaker so I could see the pretty colors of the sky once more.

  But … vindication took precedence. I walked into the kitchen and placed my strawberries on the counter then stood aside, triumphant.

  Caretaker was at the stove checking what appeared to be spaghetti sauce. She glanced at the strawberries.

  I waited, itching for an apology or better yet, an acknowledgment I’d succeeded.

  “Answer the front door, Yankee,” was all she said.

  “Okay. But first. I grew strawberries,” I pointed out.

  “You want an award for doing what you’re supposed to be doing here?”

  “You just can’t …ugh!” I bit back the rest of the sentence and strode past her to th
e front door, yanking it open.

  Warrior women. There were four, armed to the teeth, dressed in black with hair dyed blue. I stared at them, surprised. They were muscular, tall and wearing gold ear cuffs connected to nose rings.

  No luggage. Though this time, that didn’t surprise me.

  “May we enter?” the one in front asked in a stilted accent.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I stood aside.

  The four filed in, and I stared at their weapons. Nothing modern. At least, no guns. But they had everything from nun chucks to knives to double headed axes among them. One carried a spear. They went to one of the sitting rooms as if accustomed to visiting.

  “Girl!” Caretaker yelled.

  “I have a damn name!” I snapped.

  The warrior women glanced at me, amused, while I stormed back to the kitchen.

  “Take this up to the Tili.” Caretaker ignored me and handed me two plates. “The second is yours. Eat upstairs.”

  Pursing my lips, I took the food with a last look at my strawberries on the counter and went upstairs. I put on a shirt before going to Tea Leaf’s room. His door was opened, so I didn’t bother knocking but stepped into the doorway.

  He lay in bed. His gaze was more alert this day, and he sat up when I entered. He remained shirtless, though the bandage around him wasn’t soaked with blood this time.

  “Brought you dinner. I hope you like …” I drifted off, taking in his features. His tattoos almost seemed to glow tonight, which I supposed was no weirder than a garden that grew in two days and the kind of people who showed up to spend the night here. But I still stared too long at him.

  He looked ready to jump me, like entering his room was an insult to his ancestors.

  “Whatever. You can’t understand me anyway.” I set the plate on the nightstand.

  He caught my wrist, and I jerked, fear flying through me. His large hand was warm, his grip far surer today than it was when he collapsed in my doorway yesterday.

  Tea Leaf turned my arm to see the scar running down my forearm. He touched it with the fingertips of his other hand. There was no pain so far removed from the event, but I flinched instinctively and pulled my arm back.

  It’s where the would-be-rapist had cut me the first time when he tried to subdue me.

  I held my arm to my chest, recalling the pain too well.

  Tea Leaf studied my features briefly before grabbing his dinner and leaning back. He said something in the language I didn’t understand.

  I shook my head.

  He patted the chair beside the bed.

  “No.” I stepped back. He was getting stronger, which meant he was no longer the weak man incapable of hurting me.

  He didn’t appear concerned or affected by my refusal.

  I felt kind of bad. The poor guy had barely lived through yesterday, and I was refusing to have dinner with him. What if he needed something?

  What if I had a panic attack and humiliated myself?

  He opened the top drawer of the nightstand. Pulling out a knife in a leather sheath, he held it out to me.

  I frowned.

  He uttered more words I didn’t understand, but I was pretty sure he meant for me to take it.

  I stretched forward and accepted it. He pointed to my arm and spoke again, this time with a shake of his head I took to mean he wasn’t happy someone had cut me.

  “Thank you,” I said, surprised by the thoughtfulness. Boys my age weren’t really nice like this. At least, the ones at my school weren’t. He had given me a knife and penny, and I had nothing to trade for it. I dug around my pocket and pulled out one of the rocks I’d found in the wash, then held it out. “Sorry. I don’t have much.” My face felt warm.

  He took it and held it up. It appeared to be black obsidian or something similar. The rock was smooth and small but pretty.

  “Have a good dinner.” I backed towards the door and left his room, bothered by how uncomfortable I was around every single man in existence. I held up the knife, touched by his concern yet a little nauseated by what I knew a knife could do.

  Though exhausted, I had the urge to research a couple of things before going to bed. My iPad was charged and I lay across my bed, nibbling on dinner. We had wifi, though how or why, I didn’t know, considering the Caretaker claimed we didn’t have internet. I didn’t see any sign of a computer or even a smart phone charger in the house outside the technology I brought with me. I also wasn’t going to question it too much or outright ask her, in case she decided to turn the hidden device off.

  Tili tribe, I typed into the search engine.

  No results.

  I tried every spelling variation I could think of to no satisfaction. If Tili was an abbreviation for something or some obscure tribe, something should pop up. But nothing did.

  I googled the growth time for a strawberry plant next and sat up, staring at the result.

  Three to four months in optimal conditions and a temperate climate.

  I grew strawberries in three days – and in the desert! My heart pounded, and I struggled for some reasoning as to why I had a garden after so short a time. I googled cherry trees, cucumbers and peppers, all with similar results.

  Pulling on a hoodie, I hurriedly left the house and went outside to my garden. Even in the moonlight I saw the difference between when I’d left the plants an hour ago and now. They were growing at astronomical rates.

  “This is impossible.” I stared at a stalk of corn taller than me. I’d planted it this morning.

  Gang members, magic vegetables, people appearing and disappearing.

  The instinct I’d been trying to ignore since I arrived wouldn’t be suppressed this time.

  Something was going on here. Something abnormal, perhaps even supernatural.

  Or … I was going crazy. Had I finally snapped?

  The breeze pushed the nearest corn stalk against me. It certainly felt real.

  The front door slammed closed. I went to the corner of the house and saw two of Tea Leaf’s friends escorting him out. He leaned heavily on one while the other walked ahead of them. They were dressed once more for cold weather. I leaned against the house and watched. They strode down the driveway. I stared hard at them, waiting to see once and for all where the visitors went.

  They stepped into the road and completely vanished.

  Emerging from the side of the house, I refused to take my eyes off that spot, refused to blink or breathe. I closed one eye then the other, unwilling to believe it possible that people could just disappear.

  I ran down the driveway and stopped at the end, all too aware of the bracelet around my ankle. I stared into the darkness, trying to find something, anything to counter the belief that I’d witnessed the impossible.

  The three men were gone.

  Coldness streaked through me. I stared until I was shivering from a combination of chilly desert night and cold fear.

  I was crazy. It wasn’t possible for anyone to disappear, and yet I’d seen it happen two nights in a row.

  I stood until my sore body grew uncomfortably stiff. Finally, I turned away and started back towards the house.

  “What’re you doing out so late?” someone behind me asked.

  I spun to face the road with a yelp, my insides shaking.

  The golden-eyed cowboy had magically appeared at the edge of the driveway. He was smiling.

  “Where … where did you come from?” I demanded.

  “Outside the fence.” He headed towards the house, unconcerned.

  “But there’s nothing there,” I said and trailed him. “Did you drive?”

  “What? No.” He laughed. “There’s a whole world outside this property.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Was he being figurative?

  We reached the porch in silence. He opened the door for me and I walked in and looked around anew, suddenly too aware of the strangeness of my surroundings.

  I can’t even … These thoughts were in
sane. I couldn’t humor them. I’d cracked, after all I’d been through.

  I ran upstairs to my room, on the verge of another meltdown, and slammed my door closed. Before I could curl up in a ball for a panic attack, I spotted something on my nightstand that hadn’t been there when I left.

  The rock I gave Tea Leaf. I picked it up, embarrassment floating through me. I didn’t know what to think about him returning it, except he might have figured out it was just a stupid, worthless rock. I opened the nightstand and checked the gifts he’d given me. He hadn’t taken them back. I closed my fist around the obsidian stone.

  I gave it to him because I didn’t have anything else to show my appreciation for his gift, and he might as well have thrown it back at me with a laugh.

  I had nothing. I was nothing. My entire existence was a waste and I’d been sent to some kind of magical Purgatory to slave away the rest of my life for a cranky old woman.

  I started crying for reasons that were so stupid, they made me cry harder. Squeezing the rock in my hand, I threw myself on my bed.

  Why does this hurt?

  The supernatural weirdness forgotten, I was more upset by Tea Leaf’s returning of my rock than anything else.