by Hunter Shea
“You don’t understand, Debi. They’re watching us. Even now. We can’t see them or hear them, but they’re out there.”
Goosebumps dotted Debi’s spine. Somewhere in the overgrown field, the eyes of sick demented men were on them, imprisoning them. A pair of crows perched in the dead tree cawed to one another.
Or were they sentries for the Guardians? Black spies with free access to their every movement.
You’re losing it, Deb. The Guardians aren’t supernatural. Don’t give them any more power than they already have.
Matt was resolute about their not leaving, so there was no point pressing him… for the moment.
“Where’s your father?”
“Sleeping in his room. West came to get me after he told him about my mother, and that’s when it all came out. He’s got a hangover to beat all hangovers, and he gave himself a big blow to the head when he passed out. He kept saying, nothing’s gonna happen. Nothing can happen, not to me, not to you, West, or Debi. Trust me. He won’t tell me what the hell that means. I guess I can’t expect everything, can I?”
Debi put her arms around him, laying her head on his chest.
“You should when it comes to family. You really should.” Dusk would be coming soon, followed by darkness out here on the farm that was unlike any she’d ever experienced. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep a single wink tonight. Not here. Maybe not anywhere. Matt felt so solid in her embrace, steady and fuller than he had in years.
Silver linings.
“So what do we do now?” she asked.
He couldn’t stop looking around. Out here, they were completely exposed.
“We go inside and we make dinner. We’ll just have to take it moment by moment.”
Her hand fell to his lower back. She felt a solid bulge tucked beneath his belt. He stiffened.
She didn’t say anything. Instead, they walked hand in hand, got West, and entered the house.
She’d had a sudden change of heart when it came to guns.
***
West didn’t sleep much and neither did his parents. He heard them moving about all night. Grandpa Abraham, however, slept like a man who’d been anesthetized. His snoring never ceased, growing louder and deeper as the night went on. West found it oddly comforting.
“Maybe it’s a good idea to stay in the house,” his father said. He was surprised to see his mother home. She made him a waffle.
“It’s going to be like a hundred degrees in here,” West said. It was only eight o’clock and it didn’t feel that far off.
“We could all go for a drive,” his mother said. “I haven’t gotten out and about much since we moved here.”
“I think it’s best we all stay here. At least for today.” His father pulled himself up from his chair with the help of his cane, walking unsteadily to the living room. West knew the spins were in control today. That happened a lot when he didn’t get enough sleep.
“Are you going to get in trouble for not going to work?”
His mother smiled. “It’s an office, not a penal colony. I do get sick and vacation days.”
He took a bite of the dry waffle. “Which one is this?”
She gave a few fake coughs into her hand. “I think I’m coming down with one of those summer colds.”
Not wanting to upset his father, West spent the day in the house, mostly in his room. He gave the appearance of lazing around, but all of his senses were on high alert.
Grandpa Abraham got up around noon, spoke to no one, and left. West heard his mother and father debating something in earnest.
By that time, the house was a hot box. He opened every window on the upper floor, even venturing into his grandfather’s bedroom so there was a cross breeze. The sheets stunk like sweat and something gone sour.
There was nothing to do but read and stare at the picture of Ash above his bed.
He wondered what Faith was doing now. She was punished and probably in her room, just like him.
Or maybe she’d snuck out and was now sunbathing in her spot in that pink bikini. Once he started, he couldn’t stop thinking of her full breasts barely contained in the two small triangles of fabric. He had to close his door and masturbate, the ending coming quickly. In that small amount of time, the temperature had seemed to double.
His mother called in sick again the next day, Friday, and Grandpa Abraham continued his vow of silence. Maybe he thought he’d said too much. He left the house early, returning late, though he didn’t quite stink like the inside of an old keg.
West and his father and mother stayed in the stifling house. Windows were opened, but doors were locked. The wind never seemed to make it as far as the farmhouse.
They played a couple of board games his mother had found in a closet – Parcheesi and Trivial Pursuit. They watched TV, but West knew none of them were paying much attention. The tension in the house was thicker than the heat.
Again, he heard some strange noises at night, bolted up in bed, worried that the Guardians were trying to break in. His parents must have heard it too. The floor downstairs cracked as they walked around. Whatever it was, it didn’t repeat itself.
By Saturday, their seclusion had become routine.
He went so far as to sit on the back step for a while, when the sun’s glare was shaded by the house. He and his mother had a blessed break when he went with her to get some groceries. She plunked down two dollars at the service desk for lottery tickets.
“We can use all the help we can get,” she’d said to him, stuffing the tickets in her purse.
The drive back felt like a walk down executioner’s row, the trees on either side of the winding driveway their jailers, making sure they made it to the gas chamber. West knew it was a dramatic way of looking at things, but he was going stir crazy, and perhaps a little nuts from the oppressive heat.
James stopped by and they had sandwiches for dinner with cold potato salad because turning on the stove or oven was simply out of the question. He stayed late, West’s father and him talking in hushed tones in the kitchen. West went upstairs while James was still there. Tossing and turning in his damp sheets that night, he decided Sunday was going to be different.
There hadn’t been any notes from the Guardians, either inside (not that they could get in undetected at this point) or out. His mother and father did a sweep of the grounds twice a day.
Sure, they weren’t being harassed or threatened by the Guardians, but at what cost? Was this how it was always going to be? He kept waiting for his mother and father to make an announcement and order him to pack his bags, but they never did.
The funniest thing happened over those long days and nights. All of his fear had bled away, sweated out like poison, replenished with a burning desire to make a break and a maddening streak of disappointment with his parents. It was if they had given up.
Sneaking out of the house was going to be a problem. There was no way to stealthily move about within the old bones of that house. The drop from his window was just enough to hold the threat of breaking an ankle or leg. His parents, bags under their eyes growing puffier each day, were on perpetual guard duty. Only Grandpa Abraham was living his life as usual – including pretending he was still living alone.
The plan came to him as he was getting ready for breakfast.
He’d have to dash out of the house right when his grandfather made his morning exit. The man made enough noise to mask the clatter of a cow traipsing through the house.
“I’m not feeling so good,” he said to his mother. She put a hand to his forehead.
“You feel a little warm.”
Of course he did. They all did. He didn’t look so good, either. It was an easy lie to pull off.
“I think I’m gonna just lay down and go back to sleep.”
“You must be sick,” his father said. “You never take naps.”
A weak smile played on West’s face. “Maybe I caught Mom’s summer cold.”
“Very funny,” his mother
said.
He nibbled on some toast, despite being starving, then went back to his room and closed the door. Grandpa Abraham, who’d taken to sleeping later each day, was up an hour later.
As he clomped down the stairs, West followed, careful to avoid being detected. He slipped out the front door while his grandfather went to the kitchen to get his morning coffee.
The bakery sweet air kissed his face.
He was free!
Now for the hard part.
Chapter Nineteen
Getting to the clearing that separated the property lines was simple. West had literally carved a path in the overgrowth from his trips to steal even a few minutes with Faith. Thorny weeds sliced up his legs. He didn’t bother inspecting the damage. A little blood might actually make him look cool.
Some of the air went out of his sails when he saw the clearing - Faith’s special spot – was empty. That meant he’d have to navigate the cornfield and hope to God he didn’t end up lost for the day. He’d only been to her house that one time. The chances of coming out the other side right where he wanted to be were slim, but it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do, aside from thinking how furious his parents would be if they found out he’d escaped.
By all rights, he should have been terrified to be out here alone. The Guardians, as they’d come to feel, were everywhere. But even they were no match for teen boredom, rebellion, and raging hormones.
Making his way among the rows of corn, he stopped every now and then to listen for any signs of human activity. If he heard a tractor or a man’s voice, he’d head back. West was pretty sure Faith’s father wouldn’t take kindly to a kid sneaking around his farm to spend some time with his daughter, no matter how innocent his intentions (no one needed to know what kept him up at nights).
Right now, coming upon her father by accident held more dread for him than stumbling into one of the Guardians.
Half an hour in, he felt no closer to getting out. His shirt was pasted to his skin by sweat. His sneakers and lower calves were crusted with dirt and it looked like a cat had gone to town on him. It wasn’t quite the picture he wanted to present, but he was desperate.
At one point, he tripped on a huge rock, spilling out of the cornfield and onto his back. The sun burned a fiery globe onto his retinas.
Eyes tearing, he sat up and looked around.
No house. Nothing but another cornfield about twenty feet away.
He stuck to the edge of the cornfield. Sooner or later it had to lead somewhere other than more damn corn.
Cresting a small rise, he was rewarded for his determination.
Faith’s house looked like something from a postcard.
West approached cautiously, wary of being spotted by her parents. He made it to the side of her house, just under Faith’s window. He knew it was her window by the music emanating from it – classic White Zombie.
There weren’t any cars around.
Good. Maybe her parents are in town or deep out in one of the fields.
Scanning the ground, he scooped up a handful of pebbles. The first one hit the side of the house with a tiny plink. The second came up short of the second story window.
The third was a success.
Nothing happened.
“She probably can’t hear it over the music.”
He found a bigger rock, throwing it harder. It bounced off the screen, making a hard twang.
Faith’s face pressed to the screen.
“Hey,” he half-whispered, waving.
Her eyes lit up, teeth peeking out from her smile.
“West, what are you doing here?”
He’d prepared himself for that question.
“I had to see you. Waiting until school starts isn’t an option.” He tried his best to not look like his knees were about to buckle. Seeing her got his heart galloping.
“I’ll be right down.”
He waited for her to disappear before giving a fist pump. The sounds of her sandals slapping against the bottom of her feet as she went down the stairs was music to his ears.
She surprised him by running out the door and throwing her arms around him. West shifted his pelvis away slightly so as not to embarrass himself.
“You’re crazy,” she laughed. “How did you find my house?”
“It wasn’t that hard,” he lied.
“You’ve got perfect timing. Everyone left about ten minutes ago.”
Maybe it was a good thing he’d gotten lost for a bit.
“So, what have you been up to?” West asked.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You want to hear the definition of pathetic? I’m actually counting down the days until school starts. I’ll trade this prison for that one any day. How about you? At least you’re not punished. Tell me what the world is like. Do they have hover cars and world peace yet? Is pot legal?”
I just might be punished before the day is through, West thought.
“Nothing much. Just hanging around. Not being able to drive or catch a bus somewhere sucks.”
She led him to the back of the house, next to a shed that was big enough to house a family of four.
Faith said, “The day I get my license, I’m driving to New York. I want to get a sundae at Serendipity, walk around Central Park, go up the Empire State Building, and shop. You ever been there?”
“I went to Ellis Island on a school trip. My mom works in the city. She keeps asking me to go with her, but I’d feel like a dork.”
She playfully slapped his arm. “You’re crazy! Next time she asks, go! Find a way to take me with you! We can be dorks together.”
They fell into easy conversation, Faith reminding him several times that he was the first person she’d spoken to that wasn’t an immediate family member in what felt like forever. Her father had even taken her phone and computer away. Sitting in the grass, facing one another, West felt alive for the first time since the last time they’d been together. Whenever she touched his arm or bit her lower lip or laughed, his stomach did somersaults.
“It sounds like you’ve been just as bored as I have,” Faith said.
He hesitated. She looked at him quizzically.
“Or maybe not,” she said.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“If you don’t know that by now.”
West snickered. “We’ve had… some crazy stuff going on at my grandfather’s place.”
“Crazy how? Like is your grandfather getting old timer’s disease? I hear that’s no fun.”
“No, it’s not that. He’s got his mind together still, at least I think he does.”
“I’ve heard he’s kind of a loner.” She plucked some clover from the soil, twirling it in her fingers.
“He kinda is, unless he’s at the Post with his drinking buddies.”
“So what’s going on?”
Faith rested her hand on his knee.
Do I really tell her? She’ll think we’re all insane. Or worse, that I’m a liar, trying to get some sympathy.
Fuck it. Just do it.
“We’re being stalked.”
Faith snorted, chucking the clover at his face. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. The house, me, my family, we’re being watched all the time by these people who call themselves the Guardians.”
The words came out in a rush. He felt lightheaded.
No longer playful, Faith stared at him with such deep concern, he worried that she thought he was full of crap.
You should’ve kept your mouth shut!
And maybe he would have, if he’d had Anthony around to talk to. As it stood, Faith was the only person his age that he knew in the entire state. He prayed he didn’t blow it.
Faith said, “Did you say the Guardians?”
“Yeah. They leave notes all over the place, even in the house. My grandfather says they’ve been stalking the family for as long as he can remember. I know this sounds insane, because it is! But I swear it’s the truth. I’m not even su
pposed to be outside the house because my parents are completely freaked AF.”
Faith didn’t say anything. She looked… scared.
“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded on you. I keep thinking I should just call the cops, since my parents or grandfather won’t.”
“Don’t!” she blurted.
“What do you mean?”
She leaned closer, so close, he could smell the yogurt she’d had for breakfast on her breath.
“I mean you can’t. I know the Guardians, West.”
West’s body went numb, the thump of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
He rocked on his haunches.
“You… you know the Guardians?”
A shadow fell over them.
A deep voice answered behind him, “She does, and who the hell are you?”
***
“You know you’re going to have to go back to work tomorrow.”
Matt patted the couch for Debi to sit next to him. A box fan on the floor pushed the hot air full blast at them. It gave the illusion of being cool.
“I’m sick just thinking about it. I know West thinks it’s babyish to come to work with me, but I’m putting my foot down.”
He patted her leg. A tide of vertigo had planted him on the couch an hour ago and he still wasn’t up to moving about. For once, there were more important things on his mind than his own suffering.
“I’m with you on that,” he said. “He has no choice in the matter. Will you get in trouble, having him there every day for the rest of the summer?”
“No. Monika has her ways. No one will even know he’s there.” She rested her head on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair. “That still leaves me worried about you. Thinking about you in the house, alone most of the day, is going to give me an ulcer.”
“You forget I have a gun now.” He tried to sound macho, despite the nausea that had been roiling his gut.
“That’s not reassuring to me. And I know it’s not rational to expect James to be with you every day.”
“He’s between careers and he said he’ll be around a lot, take me out of here as much as possible. I’ll be fine.”
