Rules for Vanishing

by Kate Alice Marshall

  To: Sara Donoghue

  From: Rebecca Donoghue

  Subject: (none)

  I’m waking up less and less

  To: Sara Donoghue

  From: Rebecca Donoghue

  Subject: (none)

  I love you.

  To: Sara Donoghue

  From: Rebecca Donoghue

  Subject: goodbye

  [no message text]

  EXHIBIT T

  Transcript of phone call to Rebecca Donoghue

  May 1, 2017

  BECCA: Hello?

  ASHFORD: Hello, is this Rebecca Donoghue?

  BECCA: Yes, who’s calling?

  ASHFORD: My name is Ashford. Andrew Ashford. You emailed me about a recent incident you were involved in.

  BECCA: I . . . I’m sorry. That was a prank. I’m sorry to waste your time.

  ASHFORD: I know that it may be difficult to trust anyone right now, Rebecca, but I want you to know that I believe you.

  BECCA: Really.

  ASHFORD: You said that you needed help. Your message wasn’t terribly clear . . .

  BECCA: I don’t need help. Really. You don’t need to bother.

  ASHFORD: Miss Donoghue, do you know a young woman named Miranda Ryder?

  BECCA: No, I don’t.

  ASHFORD: Your message included a photo of her.

  BECCA: Did it?

  ASHFORD: Miss Donoghue, I have already told you that I believe you. And I believe that I can help you. My assistant and I are already on our way to Briar Glen.

  [Silence]

  Miss Donoghue?

  BECCA: It isn’t me. It’s my sister, Sara. Something’s wrong with her. Something is very, very wrong with her.

  ASHFORD: Tell me more.

  FINAL INTERVIEW

  SARA DONOGHUE

  May 9, 2017

  ASHFORD: I realize that this must be quite jarring.

  SARA: You’re wrong.

  ASHFORD: You’ve seen the evidence for yourself. You’ve seen the video.

  SARA: No. There’s nothing wrong with Becca. It’s me. I’m the one that—

  ASHFORD: We all thought so, Sara. Becca is cogent. Her story is consistent. Utterly consistent. She only has the one memory gap, and that—I think that was her way of trying to keep you from being able to ask her about what happened. Even a false story might jar something loose. Sara, the influence of Dahut’s spirit on you was fleeting. She could only manage rough manipulations. Shoving memories into a hole, building slapdash memories over them. She had a year to whisper to Becca. And then she simply stepped through the door she’d built for herself.

  SARA: No. It has to be me. I can feel it. I’m . . . wrong.

  ASHFORD: What you feel, Sara, is guilt. Survivor’s guilt. And the more classic kind. You were the one who sent that text message to your school, weren’t you?

  SARA: I thought it was the only way they’d come with me, if they thought it was real. And I got them all killed.

  ASHFORD: But you saved your sister. And she still needs your help. We can still free her. But you will need to be strong. You will need to be unflinching.

  SARA: I . . .

  ASHFORD: Anthony’s last act was to make sure you had that video, Sara. His last act—saving you both, in more ways than you understood. And you hid the phone, because some part of you knew the truth.

  SARA: She’s been Dahut. Ever since we came out of the dark.

  ASHFORD: It looks that way.

  SARA: Then I didn’t save Becca at all.

  ASHFORD: Not yet. But you still can.

  SARA: What do I do?

  ASHFORD: I’ll show you. Don’t worry. We’ll be with you every step of the way.

  SARA: “Whatever walked there, walked alone.”

  ASHFORD: What’s that?

  SARA: Nothing. It’s from a book.

  She stands.

  SARA: I’m ready.

  VIDEO EVIDENCE

  Donoghue Exorcism

  Recorded by Andrew Ashford

  May 10, 2017, 12:34 a.m.

  Video is fragmentary, lapsing frequently into black or visual and audio distortions that make comprehension impossible.

  A man speaks in a calm, clear voice. The language appears to be Aramaic.* An image flickers into view: Becca Donoghue, pacing at the edges of a circle of chalk surrounded by strange symbols, perhaps lettering of some kind. Andrew Ashford stands to the north of the circle; it is he who is chanting. Melanie Whittaker stands to the east, Abigail Ryder to the west, and Sara Donoghue, back straight and eyes fixed on her sister, to the south.

  The image turns to black; a sound like howling wind drowns out all else, followed by an electronic squeal and then a cacophony of other sounds, impossible to distinguish.*

  The next clear sound is a woman screaming.

  Seconds later, an image flickers briefly into view. Melanie Whittaker stands against a wall as if flung there. Ashford has stumbled back. Abigail Ryder remains in position, hands moving swiftly in strange, mathematically precise configurations.

  Sara Donoghue remains. Her sister stands at the edge of the chalk, inches away, teeth bared and pupils filling her irises.

  The video cuts out. Here and there, fragments of shouting can be made out, syllables isolated until they have been stripped of meaning.

  ASHFORD: It’s not working. We need to stop this.

  ABBY: No. We’re not stopping yet. I just need—

  Audio cuts out. Video and audio cut back in several seconds later. Only Sara remains beside the circle. The others have fallen back. Becca Donoghue stalks back and forth along the inner edge of the chalk. She licks her lips, her head moving like a snake’s.

  BECCA: They died because of you. All of them. You can’t even remember poor Nick. Vanessa? You weren’t even her friend. You didn’t even notice she was gone when you did remember her, and then you were perfectly happy to kill her, weren’t you, just to save Trina. Perfect Trina, who died anyway. Died saving you, and was it worth it? You know it wasn’t.

  Sara Donoghue does not flinch. She reaches out her hand, across the barrier of chalk.

  ABBY: Don’t—

  SARA: I found you once, Becca. I’ll always find you.

  Becca flinches back from the hand.

  BECCA: She’s already gone. There’s no point to any of this. You failed. You tricked them all. Brave Jeremy. Anthony, so loyal he lied to you for a year about his feelings for Becca so he wouldn’t hurt your fragile little ego, because he knew you couldn’t stand to be anything but the center of attention. Mel, sick with love and too afraid to tell you, but oh, you enjoyed finding out about that, didn’t you? Back to being the shining star.

  Sara laughs, bright and sad.

  SARA: You don’t understand her at all. You don’t understand us at all. I wanted to shine as bright as her, because she was the most beautiful thing in the universe. My sister. The brightest thing.

  Sara steps forward. She stands at the very edge of the circle now.

  ABBY: Do not step over that circle, Sara!

  SARA: It’s all right.

  Sara Donoghue takes another step forward, breaking the barrier of chalk, her hand still outstretched.

  Abby lunges forward. Ashford catches her by the shoulder, restrains her.

  ASHFORD: Wait.

  Sara’s hand hovers in the air.

  SARA: Becca. It’s time to walk out of the dark.

  Slowly, her sister reaches out.

  Video cuts out. It does not return.

  ADDITIONAL MATERIALS

  This concludes the contents of Ashford File #74. We have, however, located additional materials that you may find of interest, included without additional charge.

/>   As to your primary question, we are confident that Abigail Ryder was unharmed during the events in Briar Glen, and we have confirmed that Miranda Ryder is deceased. We will continue to attempt to track down Abigail Ryder’s current location.

  Do not attempt to contact us. No previous means of doing so will be operable after you receive this message.

  SUPPLEMENT D

  “Me Again: A Self-Portrait” (Photograph)

  September 17, 2017

  Posted on photography forum by lostgirl151

  Becca Donoghue sits cross-legged on a white bedspread, body forward, face in profile as she looks to the left. Her hair falls around her face; her expression is distant. The photograph is in black and white. Somewhat artful, expressive, but largely unremarkable; the compelling, strikingly beautiful subject is all that sets it apart, until one notices the standing mirror at the edge of the frame.

  In the reflection, Becca’s form is captured, almost a perfect reproduction of the scene—except for the faintest shadow of a second figure sitting beside her. One can almost make out the features of a girl, her hand raised, reaching toward Becca but not quite touching her. In the reflection, Becca’s gaze, turned away, reads as rejection. Defiance, perhaps. There is something desperate in the shadow-figure’s reach; Becca remains beyond its grasp.

  Comments on the post compliment the subtle, surreal touch and ask about the techniques used to manipulate the image. Lostgirl151 never replies. This is her only post on the forum. The username does not return any results in general searches.

  SUPPLEMENT E

  Instagram post by Melanie Whittaker

  August 7, 2017

  Melanie Whittaker’s Instagram is infrequently updated. Photographs are mostly of coffee, books, and dogs, along with a handful of selfies.

  In a set of three selfies, clearly taken in quick succession, Melanie Whittaker and Sara Donoghue sit at a table at an outdoor café. Sara has cut her hair shorter, just below her chin. Though it is clearly a warm day, she wears long sleeves. Her expression is melancholy in the first frame, distracted as Mel grins for the camera. In the second, she seems to have realized that Mel is taking the picture; she looks across the table in apparent surprise. In the third photo, a slight smile bends her lips. She is not looking at the camera. She is looking at Mel.

  The post is tagged #threepointtwoweekaversary #itsathing #lazygothaesthetic

  SUPPLEMENT F

  Video posted online by anonymous user

  Akrou & Bone video game fan forum

  “Weird in the World” sub-forum

  Subject: Anyone know this kid?

  An embedded video clip shows Kyle Jeffries sitting on a picnic table in a park. It is late evening, and the park is abandoned. Kyle doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s being filmed. He speaks softly; the words are inaudible, but the rhythm is slow, deliberate.

  The wind shifts. A brief stretch of words reaches the camera and the microphone: “—cup the hand—writhes it beneath—”

  The air in front of him buckles, wavers, distorts. Something seems to be weaving itself into being. It has almost the shape of a person—or it might only be a trick of the light.

  Kyle stretches out his hand. Smoke rises in faint coils from his palm. It threads through the air to the figure, as if pulled by a draft, and the figure solidifies just a little bit more—

  And then the rhythm of Kyle’s words falters, and the figure, the trick of the light, vanishes. Kyle’s hand drops. He sags, seemingly weary.

  The video ends.

  SUPPLEMENT G

  Security video

  Gas station, Point Brook, Pennsylvania

  A standard view of a gas station at night. A car pulls up to the pump. Andrew Ashford gets out of the driver’s seat; Abigail Ryder exits the passenger side, says something to Ashford, and gives a mock salute. She heads toward the gas station store and disappears inside.

  Ashford begins pumping gas. A young woman steps into frame, across the car from Ashford. He seems to sense her presence and looks up. It is difficult to identify the young woman, whose back is to the camera, but she bears a clear resemblance to Miranda Ryder.

  Ashford speaks to her. She seems to respond. He glances back toward the store, where Abigail has gone. Then he nods.

  A young woman sets something on the trunk of the car. And then she steps back. The shadows are thick at the edge of the frame, and the video quality is poor; it is impossible to be certain that she vanishes before she reaches the edge of the frame. It is natural to assume she simply steps out of view.

  Ashford picks up the small object that the young woman left behind, and tucks it into his pocket.

  Abigail Ryder exits the store. She tosses him a bottle of water. He seems about to tell her something.

  He doesn’t.

  He finishes pumping gas. They drive away.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, thank you to my husband, Mike, for his tireless support through every stage of this book and all the others, and to the rest of my family for putting up with me while under deadline—especially Mr. O, who sometimes tried to help with the typing.

  Many people offered editorial expertise, critique, commiseration, brainstorming, support, and dedicated hard work in shepherding Rules for Vanishing from an odd little concept to a polished final manuscript. So thank you to:

  The truly sensational No Name Writing Group—Shanna Germain, Erin M. Evans, Rhiannon Held, Monte Cook, Corry L. Lee, and Susan Morris; my tireless agent, Lisa Rodgers, and her UK partner-in-crime, Louise Buckley; my fabulous editor at PYR, Maggie Rosenthal; my also fabulous UK editors at Walker, Annalie Grainger and Megan Middleton; and my meticulous copyeditors and proofreaders on both sides of the ocean: Marinda Valenti and Abigail Powers at PYR and Kirsty Ridge at Walker.

  I am privileged to have Dana Li as my cover designer once again, and she continues to knock it out of the park. Simón Prades’s cover illustration is beautiful, spooky, and perfect. I am deeply grateful to both of them for lending their artistic skill and talent to creating a stunning cover. And Jim Hoover’s great work on the interior layout helped bring this peculiar book to life.

  I have the great fortune of having not one but two wonderfully creepy covers to enjoy. So thanks to those who worked on the UK edition: Leo Nickolls, for the haunting illustration, Maria Soler Canton for the design, and Anna Robinette for the typesetting.

  A special thank you to my expert readers/consultants, Meriah Hudson and Beth Bienvenu, for their insight. Any errors and missteps remaining are entirely my own. Thank you also for those who helped with thorny questions of all sorts at various stages, especially Mat Murakami, Day Al-Mohamed, and the Thrills & Chills crew.

  Finally, thank you to Ms. Bean, who arrived just in time to have the final pass of the manuscript read aloud to her, and who will probably grow up a little weird as a result. If it’s any comfort, with parents like these, that was inevitable.

  Kate Alice Marshall started writing before she could hold a pen properly, and never stopped. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with a chaotic menagerie of pets and family members, and ventures out in the summer to kayak and camp along the Puget Sound. Visit her online at katemarshallbooks.com and follow her on Twitter @kmarshallarts.

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  * Transcriptionist’s note: Unable to identify the third voice. It is heavily distorted with static, and a droning sound appears on the recording simultaneously with the voice.

  * Refers to Christopher Mauldin, stepfather of Kyle and Trina Jeffries.

  * Voice is female, young. Words are difficult to make out; the caller seems to be crying.
<
br />   * Described in File #71. We have been unable to retrieve File #71 thus far, but will continue our efforts.

  * Voice indentified as Grace Winters.

  * Voice is nearly identical to that observed in the first Donoghue interview, but distortion is less extreme. Comparison to confirmed recordings of Miranda R. are inconclusive but promising.

  * Word is scribbled out.

  * Identified as Grace Winters, reported as missing along with husband Bryan in April of 2014.

  ** Section ends abruptly. Pen has dug through the paper on the next stroke, leaving a hole through to the next page.

  * Local records indicate Mark Watts left Briar Glen shortly after publication of the interview. Unable to locate forwarding address.

  * Audio is unclear in original recording, but Ashford has employed a specialist to decipher the contents.

  * We have been unable to translate but are reaching out to experts.

  * Ashford has marked this audio for further analysis. Unfortunately, we were unable to obtain copies ourselves.