Blind Sight

by Nicole Storey

  She smiled, but there was something behind it – fear maybe? When she noticed Jordan’s look of concern, she put more effort into it, but the smile never reached her eyes.

  The two postcards of the lake Jordan admired before were lying on the counter. She scooped them up, also plucking the one of the owl out of Wendy’s hand. “Before you close up, may I pay for these?”

  Wendy’s face fell a fraction of an inch. She looked at the cards Jordan held – the owl peeking out from behind her thumb.

  “Sure,” she replied, stepping behind the counter to the register. She rang up the order and Jordan handed over some cash. Wendy placed the cards in a brown, paper sack along with the receipt and slid it over.

  Jordan removed one of the cards, handing it to the girl with a smile of her own. “This is for you.”

  Wendy’s eyes grew bright. She reached out, timid hand shaking, and then pulled back. “I can’t accept this – it’s too expensive.”

  Jordan wrapped the girls’ fingers around the favored card. “Look,” she began, waving the card away when Wendy tried to give it back. “I don’t have many friends…Actually, I don’t have any friends. It’s nice to be able to buy something for someone other than my brothers and Uncle. Please, take it.”

  A real smile, one that reached her eyes this time, appeared. Wendy hugged the owl picture against her chest. “Thank you…so much. This…no one has ever given me a gift before – I mean, other than a few adults.” She looked to the floor. “I find it hard to believe that you don’t have any friends. You’re pretty, you kick ass like Chuck Norris, and drive an awesome car from what I hear.”

  Now it was Jordan’s turn to look away. Growing up in ratty motel rooms, hunting down monsters, and having soul-rending visions, and dreams haunted by demons did not make great conversation starters for those not living in padded rooms. The few times she actually attempted to make friends, she found their questions about her home life and hobbies too difficult to answer and she hated lying. Instead of building on these tremulous relationships, adding layers to the foundations to make them stronger, Jordan slowly faded into the background, refusing to answer phone calls and becoming a ghost. Eventually, people forgot about her or dubbed her a “freak,” whispering behind her back at the grocery store, pointing and giggling as she walked by. There were no words.

  “It’s a long, not-very-interesting story,” she admitted. “My father’s job kept us on the move when I was little so I was home schooled and shy. My brothers are older than me and I have no sisters. Now, we live in a small town where everyone knows each other and I was given the title of ‘Mutant’ a long time ago.” Jordan grimaced, remembering the jeers and nasty looks she’d been subjected to over the years. At least no one had been able to beat her up. ”I never learned how to communicate with people my own age, I guess. It’s difficult for me.”

  Wendy closed her eyes. Jordan had no idea if she was reflecting on bad memories of her own or thinking really hard about something. Just when Jordan wondered if she should be worried, she opened her eyes and nodded, as if coming to some conclusion.

  “I take a walk on my lunch break. There’s a nice trail just around back. Would you like to come?”

  Chapter Nine

  Wendy took a sip of her drink. The two were sitting on a fallen tree, looking out across a bend in the lake. Jordan was shocked to find this place after the not-so-picturesque trail they’d hiked. The woods were too close, suffocating. The tree branches reached out to swipe against their arms, as if hoping to draw blood. Thorny shrubs seemed to come to life, snaking around their legs, tugging, trying to suck them into their dark depths.

  The clearing they sat in now was a little patch of Eden in the middle of Bramble-Hell. Wild flowers bloomed in abundance, lending their sweet fragrance to the mild breeze that caressed their faces, drying the sweat from their brows. Insects and birds sang a melody in perfect tune while fish broke the surface of the lake, creating ripples that lapped lazily at the shore.

  Wendy had packed two bottles of iced tea and her camera before they left. “Taking pictures is my hobby,” she explained to Jordan as they fought their way through the Haunted Forest, as Jordan thought of it.

  Jordan looked up now, scanning the trees for any signs of the Kongamato, mentally kicking herself for not having an effective weapon. Of course, hiking a trail carrying a dart gun would have been hard to explain to her new friend. Riding on a camel while wearing a pointy birthday hat and carrying a hamster would have been easier.

  “You asked about Corbett…” Wendy’s voice was shrill, out of place in the peacefulness of the clearing. It interrupted the symphony surrounding them, cutting across the sounds of nature like a needle scratching over an old phonograph record. Jordan remained silent, letting the girl tell her story in her own time.

  “He was different a year ago – not…crazy…like he is now.” Wendy looked out across the lake, her gaze distant, perhaps seeing another place, remembering another time. “Our mothers used to be friends. I can’t say that he and I were ever close but, as outcasts in school, we always seemed to be lumped together. Church functions, class projects…somehow, in a room filled with the coolest kids, I always ended up looking across a scarred desk or church pew at Corbett. I guess that’s what happens when you’re the fattest girl and the scrawniest guy in school.”

  Jordan looked up then. Wendy wasn’t fat. Maybe slightly overweight, but it looked healthy on her, not like those Paris Hilton-wannabes who looked in desperate need of a sandwich. And Corbett? Scrawny? The boy could bench press a Buick.

  Wendy must have read her mind. She smiled, saying, “I used to be a lot bigger. I finally got tired of not being able to walk up our stairs at home without losing my breath and decided to do something about it. I started eating better and took up hiking and photography.” She glanced down at herself. “I think it’s working fairly well. I know I feel a lot better about myself.” Fierce pride shone in her eyes.

  Jordan couldn’t help but smile back. “It takes a lot of discipline to change your life like that. You must be a very strong person.”

  “Thank you, and yes, it was hard. Some days, I think I would have killed for a slice of pizza or anything with chocolate.” Wendy laughed. “Now, I know how to eat right and still enjoy the foods I love. It’s all about balance and exercise.”

  Jordan nodded. She felt the conversation was leaning a little too far to the left and tried to correct it. “I can’t picture Corbett as a skinny guy, though. He must be on some powerful steroids or something.”

  Wendy dropped her smile and didn’t bother picking it back up. Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you’d think so, but it didn’t happen that way.” She shut up then. Jordan felt she wanted – needed – to say more, but was afraid of something.

  “What is it, Wendy?” She whispered, her voice mingling with the sigh of the wind. “You can tell me.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” Wendy took another sip of her drink.

  “Try me.”

  A sigh, a pause…”It all started with Derrick Moore. He was the quarterback for our high school football team. Tall, handsome…had an ass you could bounce a quarter on, and really nice – not like most of the preps who dominate team sports at Mountain View High.

  “He was a junior at the time – a year older than Corbett and me. With his throwing arm, he was bound for a good college with a full ride. I liked him. Everyone liked him, except for Corbett.

  “Derrick’s girlfriend was Amy White.” She turned to Jordan. “Amy is the girl who disappeared from the campground the other night. She didn’t go to Mountain View with us, but she hung out with Derrick and his friends. I used to see her around town and she always smiled and said hello to me. Nice girl with a sweet personality who, like Derrick, didn’t care if you were a jock, prep, nerd, or poor as a church mouse – she always had a kind word for everyone she saw. I guess that’s why Corbett was so obsessed with her. She treated him like a real person. She talked to him
, not about him.”

  Jordan shifted her position on the tree. Her butt was falling asleep and her patience was growing thin. Wendy was one of those types who had to dip her toes in the water for an hour before getting in the pool. Jordan was one for jumping in and getting the cold shock over with right away. Wendy must have sensed her impatience because she picked up the pace.

  “Anyway, two years ago, Corbett asked Amy out. She said no, of course. He knew she and Derrick were an item; I have no idea why he thought she’d go out with him. About a week later, Derrick got sick at school – I’m talking projectile-vomiting by the bucketful. It was awful. His folks took him to the doctor and he was diagnosed with a stomach virus, nothing serious…except it was. The vomiting continued. Three days later, he was in the hospital and hooked up to IVs. Derrick was really sick and the docs around here had no idea what was causing it. The whole student body was upset, Amy was devastated, and Corbett swaggered around school like Billy BadAss.

  “Mom sent me to Corbett’s house to deliver some clothes she’d mended for his mother. My mother is a seamstress and owns a small shop in town,” she felt the need to add. Jordan nodded, making a “continue” motion with her hand.

  “His mother wasn’t home, but Corbett was. He said he had something cool to show me. Their house sits on about five acres of land and behind it is an old workshop his grandfather used to make rocking chairs. Inside, there was some sort of altar set up. There were books on witchcraft, knives with strange handles, vials and jars with all sorts of things inside: bones, powders…and, he told me, real blood. He had drawn symbols all over the walls, too. It seriously freaked me out. There was a strong, burnt smell that turned my stomach--“

  Sulfur, Jordan thought.

  “I just wanted to get the hell out of there, you know? But Corbett insisted on explaining. He told me he was a witch and that he had cast a spell that made Derrick sick. He said he had powers now and he could make anything happen with a few well-chosen words and the right ingredients. I didn’t believe him, but I could tell from the excitement in his voice, the way he danced around the room like someone who’d been given his heart’s desire, that he did. He believed every word.”

  Wendy stood up and Jordan followed suit. They began the horrendous trek back to the store, but Wendy didn’t stop talking. She pushed a jutting branch from the path, holding it until Jordan squeezed by before letting it fly backwards. The swishing sound reminded Jordan of Ira’s whip and she shuttered.

  “Since then, strange things have happened,” Wendy huffed, a little out of breath. “Corbett stayed to himself all last summer and, when he came back to school in the fall, he was ripped like a body builder. He’d grown taller, had muscles out the wazoo, even his voice was deeper. I heard he tried his luck with Amy again and didn’t strike oil. She turned him down faster than a child turns down Brussels sprouts. He also asked Buck for a job, but the old man has never been too keen on Corbett and hired Bradley instead.”

  Wendy stopped walking. She turned around slowly, facing Jordan like one would a jury, wondering what the verdict would be. Jordan knew how she felt.

  “Bradley got the job Corbett wanted and now he and his girlfriend are gone. Amy turned him down again and now she’s gone. Poor Derrick died after spending months in a coma! He never came home again. Amy never got over his death. She kept to herself after that. I heard the camping trip her family brought her on was for one last goodbye. They were supposed to move to Florida next month.” She nervously chewed on her thumbnail. “I’m a smart girl. I know there’s no such thing as witchcraft just like there are no unicorns or trolls under bridges; it’s all make-believe and fairy tale stuff. I know this, but I still have a bad feeling about Corbett. Something’s not right – he’s not right, not anymore.” She kicked at an exposed root, unable to meet Jordan’s eyes. “You think I’m crazy, right? One step away from a strait jacket and restriction from any pointy objects?”

  Jordan placed a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you have every right to be leery of Corbett. Stay away from him, Wendy. He’s dangerous.”

  She looked up, clearly surprised at Jordan’s acceptance of her story. “How do you know?”

  Once again, she’d painted herself into a corner. This was usually where Jordan made up some lame excuse and disappeared before more pressing questions could be asked, more dirt overturned, revealing secrets that were forbidden to speak of. Some things were best left buried. However, this girl, who probably never had a real friend in her life, who had been bullied for her weight or ignored like a crack in the wall at school, just bared her soul to her. She chose to trust Jordan. There had to be some give and take. She couldn’t tell Wendy the entire truth, but maybe she could tell her enough to keep her safe.

  She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering how to start. “My family and I aren’t here for a camping trip, Wendy. We’re here because of the disappearances. I guess you could say we’re…paranormal investigators of a sort. There is a lot more going on around here than people know.”

  Wendy’s eyes grew wide. “Those attacks weren’t caused by a bear, were they?”

  “No.”

  “And you think Corbett has something to do with it?”

  “Yes.”

  Next obvious question: “What’s terrorizing the campground? Corbett is strong and he may have… powers…but even he couldn’t drag Bradley Short and his girlfriend off without losing a few limbs. Bradley was as strong as an ox.”

  “Look, I’ve already told you more than I’m allowed. I could get into trouble just for giving a hint about what’s in these woods. I know I have no right to ask this, but could you please not mention what I’ve told you to anyone?”

  Wendy considered her request, studying Jordan’s face like one would a specimen in a lab jar. Finally, she shook her head. “If you know what’s attacking the campers, then you should tell the sheriff. More people could die for your secret, or whatever the hell you want to call it. It isn’t right!”

  “More people will die if we aren’t allowed to do our jobs without interference, Wendy. The thing…this creature…it isn’t normal. Understand? What are we supposed to do -- tell Sheriff Tillson and his force of two deputies that a supernatural being is to blame for the deaths of the campers? Can you imagine how well that would go over? We’d be carted away to the nearest psych ward and no one would be left who has the knowledge to take this thing out! We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. We only want to help,” she pleaded.

  Wendy looked to the sky, as if hoping the answer to her dilemma would be written in the passing clouds. A gust of wind shook the tree branches overhead and the girl winced, peering around with frightened eyes, maybe realizing just how isolated they were and how quiet it had become. There were no insects or birds singing now, no small animals scampering through the brush – just the mournful sound of the wind carrying the scent of peat and decay from the lake. It smelled like death.

  “Can you stop it?” she whispered, her words snatched away on the breeze as soon as they left her mouth.

  “Yes. It’s what we came here for.”

  She nodded. “Okay; I won’t say anything. I promise.”

  Jordan sighed with relief. “Thank you, Wendy. You have no idea how much it means to me to be able to put my trust in someone besides my family. It’s…it’s been a long time since I had a friend.”

  Sheesh! She was generally not so damned emotional. There was something about this girl, though, that called out to her. They were a lot alike. Wendy was a fighter, too, just in a different way. She had her own strengths, even if she hadn’t discovered them yet. She would in time.

  Wendy smiled, blushing to the roots of her hair. “It’s nice to be trusted and called a friend.”

  They walked the rest of the way to the store in comfortable silence. As Wendy was unlocking the door, she asked, “What are you doing this evening? I – I thought, you know, if you aren’t busy…maybe you could come over to my h
ouse and see some of the pictures I’ve taken.”

  Jordan quickly calculated what she had to get done before sunrise tomorrow. She needed to study the maps again and see if she missed any caves in the area where the Kongamato could be hiding. She wanted to talk to Buck and see if anything strange happened when Corbett stopped by to see him earlier. That is, if Corbett stopped to see him at all. The witch could have been sacrificing a goat for all she knew. And lastly, she was going to scout out Corbett’s little hideaway and see for herself if he was behind the summoning of the creature. From what Wendy told her, he definitely had some blood on his hands; just how much remained to be seen. Still, she could take a few minutes to drop by Wendy’s house and see her photos. It had been years since she was invited…anywhere.

  “Sounds good! What’s your address and what time shall I come over?”

  Wendy scribbled the information on a paper bag, explaining that her house was a little off the beaten path. They settled on a time and Jordan promised to bring pizza. She left the store with a new friend and an idea.

  Chapter Ten

  Nathan’s Camaro received appreciative glances from a group of teens when Jordan steered it into the parking lot in front of the campground’s office. She made sure to crack the window before getting out. The temperature had already climbed to the mid-nineties and it was only a little after two. A couple of the guys threw her respectful nods as she pulled the door open and stepped across the threshold. They, along with their female companions, were dressed in swim suits. The girls were laughing with each other, totally carefree and obviously looking forward to a day at the lake with their friends. Jordan wondered what that would be like -- to have such a normal, fun afternoon. She tried to picture herself lying on a towel, soaking up the sun’s rays, eating sandwiches and chips, sipping on soda and listening to tunes on the radio. No hunting, no visions, no Quinn accusing her of murder…