by L. J. Sealey
He thought back to his life and how much simpler things like sleep had been to him back then. He’d get home from work late in the evening after a long shift at the office, switch on his computer and work some more, often accompanied by a large glass of whiskey. Then he’d fall into bed and sleep without even trying−another one of the many things he yearned for: to feel tired again.
CHAPTER TWO
It was a frosty morning in Oakland, Maryland. The first crack of dawn was peering over the distant mountains sending bursts of golden red light streaking across the sky to fight away the dark. After Lacy Holloway pulled her front door closed she paused for a moment to take in the view which was particularly breath-taking on this brisk fall morning; one of the reasons why she loved living so close to the mountains.
Thursdays were usually pretty busy at SPU, where Lacy worked as an assistant professor in the Department of Psychology, and today would be no exception which was why she was leaving the house at the crack of dawn. She had plenty to do before classes started and always preferred to go into work an hour earlier than needed to make sure she had everything prepared for the day.
Weighed down with briefcase and files, she walked to her car and clicked the fob on her keychain to deactivate the alarm and unlock the doors.
Great. The windscreen was frozen solid.
After getting home as late as she had last night from work she’d forgotten to put the antifreeze cover on. She cursed quietly. Avoiding this was the reason she’d bought one in the first place. She went to get the antifreeze spray from the trunk only to find it empty. She huffed, her cold breath creating a cloud in front of her face. Not a good start to the day. She’d have to pop into Jim’s Hardware store on the way home this evening to pick up some more and maybe a new brain while she was at it.
Admitting defeat, she grabbed the plastic scraper from the inside of the driver’s side door and began attacking the window. A few minutes and two soggy wet gloves later and she was in the car, heater full blast, on her way to work.
One of the good things about heading out so early was the lack of traffic on the roads at that time of the morning which made the seven mile trip a pleasant one.
A ground mist covered the woodland on either side of the road, like a translucent blanket rising from the earth’s bed. As Lacy looked out at the long, straight road ahead, the mist-laden forest stretched out as far as she could see. The sky was now a rich, golden backdrop to the tall trees in the distance, its sun ready to peer over their canopy at any moment.
By now the birds would be singing their morning chorus’ but Lacy couldn’t hear them as she was too busy singing along to Charm, her favorite band at the moment, which blasted through the stereo. It was her usual morning ritual and the best way to wake herself up at such an early hour.
She had worked at SPU for almost three years now, the only reason she’d moved to Maryland in the first place. It was the happiest she’d been in a long time being in the small picturesque town of Oakland, Garrett Co. Even though she was away from all of her old friends she’d settled in well, finally feeling comfortable enough to call the place home.
It had been almost three and a half years since her grandma had died leaving her house and all her other belongings to Lacy who was her only living grandchild. It was hard for her to continue to live in the house after that because there were far too many reminders of her past. The house had seemed too strange with only her in it so, after battling with her conscience because she knew how much her grandma had adored the place, she put it up for sale. In the meantime a vacancy had popped up at SPU. Lacy applied, got an interview and sailed through it. They offered her the job just after she’d accepted an offer on the house.
For once in her life things had fallen into place perfectly.
She still really didn’t know that many people in town aside from work colleagues and only had a couple of friends−none she knew well enough to really rely on−but she was happy with the way things were. Since moving to the states when she was fourteen, she’d always been a bit of a loner. In fact, even before then. She’d moved away from her only parent leaving her life and her troubled mother behind in England to start afresh with her grandparents in Ohio.
Her grandfather had died when she was twenty-two, leaving another gaping hole in Lacy’s life. After that it had just been her and her grandma who never got over the loss of her beloved husband and, Lacy suspected, eventually died of a broken heart.
It’s as if Lacy was meant to be alone.
She was fine with that now though. Besides, her work kept her busy so she had no time for a social life anyway even if she wanted one−been there, done that and found it hard juggling the two.
Destined to be on my own. . .
As she ironically sang about there being “nobody who can comfort me” she glanced down at the clock above the stereo to check the time and just as she looked back out of the windscreen she gasped and swerved to avoid a dark figure standing in the road. The Ford Focus came to a screeching halt just before the grass banking. Before Lacy could gather herself she looked back through the rear window, eyes wide, frantically scanning the area.
Nothing there.
She glanced over her shoulder, her heart pounding in her chest so much that it felt like it would burst through her rib cage at any second.
Nothing there either.
“Shit!”
She slammed the off button on the stereo and sat for a moment in silence, her heartbeat drummed loudly in her ears as she forced herself to breathe steadily−in and out, in and out−in a bid to calm herself down. She double checked the area to make sure there was definitely no one there. What the hell was that? Had she imagined it? Her stomach suddenly felt heavy and a wave of nausea washed over her. Oh no! Not that. Please. Not those damn hallucinations again. She thought as she reached for the door handle with a shaky hand.
She got out and, after another quick glance around, her eyes checked the car over: Everything ok. So far so good until she reached the passenger side where. . .
Dammit!
Her front tyre was shredded.
So much for getting into work early, now she’d have to call AAA and wait God knows how long for a truck to get to her. She had one last glance behind her before she got back in the car and reached over the passenger seat for her purse. She fished around for her cell, called a report in and was told they’d be there within the hour.
She sat quietly playing what had just happened over in her mind. It had happened so fast she’d barely had time to register what it was that was in the road. Could it have been an animal? No. The only animal that could be that big would be a bear or something but there’s no way it could have disappeared that quickly into the forest.
There one minute, gone the next.
A person?
Lacy let out a long sigh. Yes, she thought, a person that was probably only ever there in her mind.
She cursed.
All those therapy sessions were supposed to have worked. Post Traumatic Stress her therapist had put the hallucinations down to after many hours of delving into Lacy’s past. You’d think she’d have been able to diagnose herself given her profession but that had never happened, which is the reason she’d hoped that someone else could. Well, it had all been a waste of money now hadn’t it. Oh well, nothing that another few sessions couldn’t fix, she supposed, then she could look forward to another five years without them.
She rested her head on the back of her seat and waited for the recovery truck.
CHAPTER THREE
Michael had been in Oakland for three days, had checked out the area and done some research on the town’s history, but nothing unusual had come up. Getting close to the student’s friends around campus and seeing if there was any connection between the victims was the only plan he had right now.
He walked along the quiet corridor of the administration building at SPU. His footsteps echoed lightly as he passed a long row of gray doors that ran uniformly
down one side. The sound of muted voices reached him from time to time from a couple of the rooms as he walked by but none of those were what he was looking for.
Towards the end of the corridor, there stood a small wooden table against the wall. Framed pictures of each of the dead students were placed upon it along with various other objects. A peg-board hung right above on the wall with more pictures pinned to it; a memorial of happier times before each of their friends had met their demise. There were also messages of condolence from those who knew them.
Michael read one of the notes:
Dear Emily. . .
I wish we’d known the hurt you must have been feeling to make you do something so desperate. At least you are now at peace. Forever in our hearts.
Your Friends
Jo and Sandra x
A young woman approached the table and stopped beside him. Her dark, backcombed hair almost covered her whole face but Michael got a glimpse of her pale complexion and thick dark eye makeup as she threw him a sideward glance before placing a small glass next to one of the framed pictures: a young man who looked to be wearing almost as much makeup as her. He watched as she pulled a lighter from her pocket and used it to light a small candle which she then placed inside the glass.
She stood staring silently at the picture.
Michael thought he heard her sniffling and decided to step back from the table feeling that this was a moment he shouldn’t be intruding on.
He was about to continue down the hall when a tall, middle aged, bearded man approached quickly. “Nina!” he snapped. “I’m sorry, you can’t do that in here.” His harried expression suggested he was a faculty member.
“Do what?” the student replied in a brash tone.
“The candle. . . It’s against university safety rules. You’ll have to put it out I’m afraid,” he ordered as he peered at her over the top of his narrow rimmed glasses.
The female’s shoulders slumped. “Fine!” she said quickly, and blew the flame out. She gave him a sarcastic smile and walked off down the corridor in the opposite direction.
As Michael turned away he noticed that the man had caught sight of him. Hoping to avoid him, Michael continued down the hall.
No such luck.
“Excuse me,” the man called after him. By the time Michael had turned around to answer he was standing right in front of him. Jeez! He’s keen.
“Can I help you, sir,” the man asked, again over his glasses which he seemed to do a lot making Michael wonder why he wore them at all.
“Maybe. . . ” Michael replied, taking a step back so he didn’t feel so crowded by him. “I’m looking for the Dean’s office. I have an appointment.”
The man’s features relaxed. “Ah, I see. Well you’re heading in the right direction. If you come with me, I’ll take you there myself Mr. . . ” He waited for a response while holding out his hand.
“Warden.” Michael shook it firmly.
“Mr Warden. Ed Wilkinson.” He continued to shake Michael’s hand while he spoke. “It’s right this way.”
After eventually letting go, he led Michael down another short corridor to a room with several windows overlooking the outside. “Miss Taylor, the Dean’s secretary, will assist you now,” he said as he opened the door and walked straight in.
Michael followed.
“Morning Ed,” said a young blond haired woman sat behind a desk opposite the doorway. She was well presented, wearing a cream blouse and her hair neatly tied up in a bun on top of her head. To one side of her were two tall, metal filing cabinets and to her right, the wall was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves full of books.
Mr Wilkinson gave her an affectionate smile. “Morning Sarah.” He gave her a little wave on his way out and nodded to Michael before closing the door.
Sarah gave Michael a friendly smile as he approached her desk. “What can I help you with?” she asked as she left whatever she was typing on her computer.
Michael noticed her large, brown eyes behind her glasses, the kind of eyes that smiled with her. “I have an appointment with the Dean,” he explained. “I’ve been sent from KSU for the substitute position.” He’d never actually been to Kent in his life, let alone the university there, but no one needed to know that.
She tapped a couple of keys on the computer in front of her. “Name please?” she asked.
“It’s Michael Warden.”
She typed some more. “Ah, yes. Here we are. Please take a seat, Mr Warden.” She pointed to two plastic chairs, under the window which overlooked the corridor, and picked up the telephone receiver from her desk. “Mr Raynor, your nine o’clock is here.” She paused for a second. “Yes, sir.” She then placed the receiver back in its cradle and looked back over at Michael. “He’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Thanks.” He sat down, placing the envelope which had his papers in on his knee. While he waited he read through some of the book titles on the shelf next to him: The Hidden Curriculum; The Concise Dictionary of Literary Terms. Usual stuff you would see in a university. He scanned some more until he stopped on a title that made him pause for breath: The Remembrance of Death and the Afterlife. It was hard not to find it amusing, not that his situation was funny in any way. Maybe he should write a book; after all, having experienced it firsthand he should be able to sell a few copies.
The phone made a beeping sound and Miss Taylor picked up the receiver and paused. “Yes, sir.” She looked over at Michael after hanging up. “You can go in now,” she said, gesturing towards a wooden door on the opposite side of the room. “Mr Raynor is ready for you.”
“Thanks,” Michael said, then headed towards the door which had a gold plaque on it that read Dean’s Office - Professor Joseph Raynor in black letters.
He entered the large room which was brightly lit due to a large arched window overlooking the front grounds of the university. In front of it, dressed in a gray suit, Mr Raynor sat behind a dark wooden desk flicking through some paperwork. He glanced up at Michael. “Ah, Mr Warden. Please, come in and take a seat.” His office was full of books on shelves covering the walls from floor to ceiling, except for one wall which had a large oil painting of the main university building surrounded by a heavy, gilded frame.
“Thank you, sir,” Michael said as he sat down in the chair in front of the desk.
“You’re here for the substitute position?” Mr. Raynor asked, spotting Michael’s file containing his homemade papers and holding out his hand for it. His voice was stern but polite all the same. It couldn’t be easy running a university department which was evident in his well lined face. He was almost bald apart from a little patch of stubble either side of his head; probably also the result of his work load.
Michael handed the envelope over. “Yes, sir. That’s correct,” he replied.
“And you’re aware it’s only a two month position?” Mr. Raynor began to flick through the paperwork which made Michael a little anxious as he silently prayed he hadn’t missed anything. He really didn’t want to have to re-plan everything.
He nodded. “Yes I am.” It was much longer than he’d planned to stay but at least it gave him plenty of time should he need it.
“And it’s a live-in position?” Raynor confirmed.
“Yes.” Michael replied. The university had accommodation for adjunct instructors and lecturers filling a temporary position as they would usually be from out of town. So, Michael would be on campus for most of the time which was right where he needed to be.
There was a long silence as Mr. Raynor continued to read through Michael’s papers. This was the part where−if he could−he would be sweating as he waited to see if he’d manage to fool the Dean or not, but he’d realised that sweating was another thing that wasn’t a problem for him anymore.
After an anxious wait, Mr Raynor raised an eyebrow and looked straight at Michael. “There appears to be something missing.” He looked a little put out and flicked back through the papers again as though he were che
cking he hadn’t missed whatever it was.
Michael’s shoulders slumped a little. He felt sure he’d done everything required. He’d checked everything over three or four times. Dammit. This was his only way into the university. He didn’t have a plan B so if this didn’t work he didn’t really know what else he could do.
“I’m sorry, sir?” He said with a relatively calm voice, wondering how he was going to get out of it. What could he have missed?
“The form containing your bank information isn’t here. . . ” Mr Raynor looked up at him. “For your salary? You’ll be paid into your bank monthly and accounts won’t be able to process the payment without it,” he explained.
Michael relaxed and had to fight back his laugh. Relieved, he smiled at Mr Raynor. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I’ve missed that, sir.”
“It’s no problem. Just ask Miss Taylor for a form on your way out and pop it back into her before the end of the day.” He picked up a pen from a leather bound holder and began signing a few of the papers.
“Sure. No problem.” He smiled.
“Right!” Raynor slammed the folder closed and placed it down on the desk in front of him. “That seems to be everything. I’ll get someone to show you around the department and then take you to your accommodation building as soon as possible.” He buzzed through to reception. “Sarah, could you page Miss Holloway from Psychology and ask her if she’s free to show Mr Warden around please.”
“Of course, sir.” Miss Taylor replied politely through the loud speaker followed by faint tapping noises that sounded like a computer keyboard. “Her first class isn’t until ten o’clock so she should be available.”
“Thank you.”
Mr Raynor stood up and held his hand out to Michael who did the same. They shook hands. “Welcome to State Park. I hope you settle in well. Take a seat back out in reception and someone will be with you shortly.” He politely showed Michael to the door.
