by Eden Beck
From the sound of it, Marlowe has distracted Kaleb with a bout of “friendly” wrestling. Normally I’d be at their side, placing bets on a winner or joining in myself.
But tonight, tonight …
Tonight, I focus on the silence that surrounds the hillside around me and Romulus.
“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to deal with a temper from you too, now,” my father says after a long moment. “I already have enough to handle with Marlowe.”
“Not to mention Kaleb,” I mutter.
Romulus’ eyes cut over to me. “Everything going alright? We knew the transition wasn’t going to be easy. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, not that,” I say hastily, and I mean it. I don’t regret adopting our youngest, Kaleb. Not for a second. It’s just …
“I’m uneasy,” I admit, swallowing hard. “I thought coming back to the house here was a good idea, but now I’m not so sure.”
Coming back to the house had always been part of the plan. But it was meant to be a stop in the road. A chance to rest, to sleep, to gather before moving on to the next place.
“I guess I’ve just gotten so used to the road that I’ve forgotten how to stand still.”
Romulus grins. “Don’t worry,” he reassures me, “you’ll have your chance again. This is just for a while. Just until the boy learns to control himself better.”
“Speaking of,” Romulus says, clearing his throat. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”
He gestures to my ink-stained frame.
I shake my head, but this time it’s my turn for a smile to pull at the corners of my lips. “This, unfortunately, is all me. As far as Kaleb goes, he just got over-excited about the idea of neighbors. He’s like a real pup, that one.”
“Ah, yes,” Romulus says. “I guess it’s a good thing he has you then, isn’t it?”
His eyes bore into mine now, and there’s nothing casual about the shift in his posture. Though he still looks relaxed, as if he’s leaning against the raining in casual conversation with his son, I can sense the coiling in his muscles. He could snap my neck if he wanted to, and I wouldn’t even have time to react.
Even though I know he never would, the knowledge of it still sends a chill racing down my spine. We’re distracted momentarily by the sound of grunting and footsteps below as Marlowe and Kaleb spill out onto the grass down below.
Romulus looks away and starts shouting pointers down to Kaleb, but I keep my eyes on him. To think the man standing in front of me used to be the leader of a massive pack … and all he has left is us.
It serves as a grim reminder of how quickly all we have could be lost. How quickly one mistake, one wrong move, could be the end of us.
And sometimes it seems like I’m the only one who remembers that.
3
Sabrina
The sound of my mother’s scream has barely died on her lips by the time I burst through the screen door.
“What is it? What’s happened?” My anxiety has been fierce lately, so even the slightest indication that something might be wrong, sends me spiraling into a small panic. I’m about to start looking for a sharp object, fully prepared to stab someone if need be.
But rather than pointing out some masked, burly intruder, my mother just covers her mouth with one hand and uses the other to point into the corner.
“There … there was …”
“There was what?” I say with a slight grumble, the fading adrenaline leaving me cross as I slowly come to understand that we are not, after all, in danger.
Her voice comes out as a whisper. “I think I saw a mouse.”
“Uh huh, uh huh …” I repeat the phrase until it sounds like a monk’s chant. It has the same calming effect, taking me down from murder mode to mere disappointment. Sometimes I wonder who’s the parent here, and who’s the child.
Now that I’m able to breathe and think again, I pat my mother on the shoulder and take a second to look around the interior.
The cabin consists of two rooms; a kitchen which barely accommodates the worn brown leather sofa squeezed into it, and a miniscule bedroom with a loft above. No need for a house tour, I can see everything from right here, by the door. We’ve stayed in motel rooms larger than this.
But it’s just going to have to do.
The water here runs red with rust, the converted outhouse can barely be called a bathroom, and the mouse problem is bordering on an infestation—but at least it’s ours, just the two of us. And we’re safe, for now.
It’s a fresh start, for real this time.
No more asking old friends for help. No more using credit cards that can be traced. Only burner cell phones and aliases and school districts so small they don’t even take a second look at my hand-typed transcripts.
This time we’ve left everything behind that could possibly lead my father to us. Even the owner of this cabin, one of the doctors at the local long-term care facility my mother got a job at, agreed to let us this place without any real paperwork.
And at a price that almost makes up for the pittance the facility is paying her to work under the table. No one here asks too many questions. Not yet.
And it’s this thought that finally allows me to sleep.
Though you wouldn’t know it from the way I feel when I wake in the morning.
My mother and I spent the night unpacking what few things we had from the car and trying to get settled in the now mostly cleaned-up little house. If nothing else, it’s definitely cozy.
The roof is an A-frame, so at least I can stand up in the loft, which kind of makes up for the lack of width. It also has two small windows, one behind where my head goes on the fill size mattress and one in the ceiling above so that I should be able to see the stars at night. There’s always been something about looking at the moon and stars that makes me feel more at ease.
It’s a small comfort.
Maybe the only comfort.
“Morning beautiful,” Mom says as I descend the rickety ladder.
“Have you seen me this morning?” I huff as I reach for the cup of black coffee that she’s handing me. “You wouldn’t be calling me beautiful if you did.”
Some parents would say that sixteen is too young to be drinking coffee every day, but my mother and I kind of make up our own rules now. Besides, I adore coffee. And I need it for my consistent lack of sleep.
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me,” she says with a smile. “But then again, I haven’t put my contacts in yet.”
I snort.
Now that the dust has—literally—settled, there’s peace between us once more. Peace that’s nearly broken with the swear that drops from my lips when I glance at the time.
“Shit, I have to go.”
Her lips purse, but she doesn’t correct me. After all we’ve been through this last year, I’ve earned the right to swear.
“I’ll drive you.”
“It’s like two miles away, I can walk.”
“You sure?” she asks, but I can see a bit of relief on her face. She’ll be late to work if she drops me off, and we both know it. “Just be sure to come home straight after school. I want to hear all about your first day.”
I know that she’s more worried about making sure I don’t get hijacked than she is about hearing how my school day goes. I humor her all the same. We’re both nervous; I get it.
This nervousness follows me down the drive towards school.
The walk is prettier this morning. The trees are deeply green and still coated with morning condensation. I can see the mountains in the distance where the trees thin. They lend a sort of vastness to this space that should feel small and cramped beneath the pines.
I pull my hoodie around me a bit tighter, realizing now that I probably need a thicker jacket, especially if I’m going to be walking to school every day.
There’s a good feeling here, a safe feeling, which is something that I haven’t felt in a long time.
But it doesn’t last long.
There’s a rustling sound further up in the woods, and when I look at it, something shadowy moves through the trees. It makes me pause. The shade here beneath the trees is so thick that it should be hard to cast a shadow, yet there it is again. It slinks between the trees so quickly I can’t make out what it is.
That’s … unsettling.
I increase my pace. I don’t stop to look closer, but my vision becomes a blue of peeking over each of my shoulders, as if I’m being followed.
I pull my new burner phone out and squeeze it between my fingers, wondering how long it would take to dial the emergency line … and if I should pre-type it just to be safe. For the first time, I’m glad I agreed to the cheap cell phone. I didn’t want one at all at first. But now, here, I’m already starting to see its merit.
Each time I think my mind has made up that shadow entirely, I catch another flicker of movement just out of the corner of my eye. But each time I try to turn to spot it, it’s gone.
Then I can see the edge of the forest and the peeling sign for a gas station up ahead at the corner, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Emboldened now that the forest will soon be behind me, I look back once more.
This time, when I see the shadow, I actually get a closer look … and immediately feel like an idiot.
Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a person. Maybe it’s a deer or a fox or something. When I first suggested Washington, my mother read up on the local wildlife and made a list of native species just in case there was anything here we should keep an eye out for. At the time I thought it was stupid, but she just kept reassuring me that there weren’t any dangerous animals in the woods … and I figured she was doing it for her own peace of mind rather than mine.
Apparently, she didn’t lump my dad into the animal category of her list, although I certainly would’ve. Not that I think he’s actually here, god I hope he’s not here. I keep walking while I make sure to be vigilantly aware of anything around me. The forest is so thick that I bet no one would even hear me scream.
That little thought sends me hurrying towards the forest’s edge regardless, and a moment later, I’m glad it did.
But just when I think I was overreacting and imagining my manifested fears, there’s a noise … a sort of low, quiet howl.
Apparently, my father wasn’t the only dangerous creature my mother forgot to add to the list.
Because unless I’m mistaken, the creatures following me are wolves.
4
Sabrina
Or were.
By the time I reach the edge of the forest, there’s no longer any sign of any wolves. As far as anyone else would be concerned—that howl, that creeping, sneaking sensation—it was just another figment of my imagination.
But me, I’m still not so sure.
The gas station is everything that I expect it to be; run-down, empty, and with only one working gas pump. But as long as it has fresh caffeine to help me shake this lingering sensation of being watched, of being followed, that’s all I really care about.
“Morning,” the gas station attendant says as soon as I walk through the door. He’s an older man with a kindly face overrun by thick wrinkles.
I parrot his greeting, my own voice sounding small and distant, even to myself. The inside of the gas station has the smell of a place that’s been in business longer than I’ve been alive. It’s an odd assortment of rusted hunting equipment and local tobacco advertisements. Something about the placement makes that uneasy feeling inside me flare up again.
I glance once over my shoulder for a moment, pausing at the doorway to let my eyes scan the tree line across the street.
“Hey, do you happen to know if there are any wolves in the woods here?” I’m about to mention the howling I heard, the brush of fur, the crouching shape in the underbrush, but I think better of it at the last second.
The question itself is harmless, but I don’t want to claim to have seen something I’m not so sure of already. The last thing I want to do is get myself noticed as the local crackpot. The girl who jumps at shadows. The girl who sees things that aren’t there.
The man behind the counter looks at me, amused.
“Nah, no wolves here. There haven’t been wolves in these forests since I was a kid, and that was a long time ago.” He laughs as though the thought of him being a child once is funny, even to him. His smile broadens as he looks at me, growing almost menacing. “Why you asking?”
“No reason,” I mutter, quickly ducking away from the counter, my eyes averting from his. “Must have spotted a fox, or something.”
The man behind the counter shakes his head too. “You city folk, always assuming the worst.”
His voice is dropped low, disguised as a whisper that I’m meant to overhear.
But there’s no point in arguing differently. I finally spot the coffee pot at the back of the store and head straight for it. That’s the problem with small, backwater towns. No matter how much you plan to blend in, you still somehow always manage to stand out.
I just have to hope it doesn’t take long to sink into the dark background of trees and become another forgettable part of North Port’s landscape.
My hand is already a little shaky when I go to fill a Styrofoam cup. I’m fully concentrating on trying not to spill the dark brown stream of liquid all over the counter when the door to the store opens and a burst of loud laughter pours in from the front.
I hurriedly press a lid on my cup and, without thinking, duck down behind one of the aisles. I peek between two boxes of cereal towards the two boys now standing up at the counter.
Just boys, I tell myself as I release the breath that I’ve been holding in. Not my father.
Not just any boys though, impressively attractive boys. The kind of boys that should have a model on each arm. Not the kind of boys that would ever look at me … though I can’t help but stare at them.
They stroll down one of the aisles together and grab a few packages of beef jerky and three bottles of cold brew coffee. Not exactly my kind of choice breakfast combination. When they start heading back up to the counter, I sink down even further onto my haunches to wait.
I know it’s stupid, but I’ve committed to this now.
I can thank my dad for giving me a significant lack of trust in men, even the pretty ones.
The boys laugh and joke around with the old man behind the counter as if they’ve known him since childhood. Unlike me, they don’t seem to be in any rush to get to school. Maybe they aren’t students. They could be older, but I don’t know what their kind would be doing here one second after they absolutely have to be. If I were raised a local, I’d be gunning to get out of here the moment I turned eighteen.
After another moment of impatient waiting for them just leave already, I peek my head up enough to get a better look.
They do look older than me, but not by much. They both have brown hair that is long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. The color of the older boy’s hair is just a little darker than mine, more of a dirty blonde. The younger one has hair in an interesting shade of umber with streaks that look almost metallic. When he moves his head just right, the light catches on a copper tint.
They are both muscular, so much so that I can see the lines of their bodies beneath their T-shirts. They must be cold to be out in this cool weather wearing only that and jeans. They don’t look cold though. They look rambunctious.
I know I’ve been staring too long already, but I can’t get myself to tear my eyes away. There’s something about them, like the more I look, the more I see. The more there is to see.
I’m still squinting at them from behind the cereal when the one with copper streaks—the one that looks a little younger—turns to flicker his gaze across the shelves in my direction.
And yet still, I find myself frozen, unable to duck back out of sight.
Wow, his eyes are so incredible.
He looks up towards the ceiling wit
h those dark gray irises, his head tilting back as he takes a deep lungful of air. It’s as though he is smelling something on a breeze, except there’s obviously no breeze in the gas station. Just musty ceiling tiles and shelves that could use a good deep-clean.
His eyes take on a more focused look as his chin tilts down, zeroing straight in on the row of cereal I’ve been peeking out from behind, and I swear he sees me. I bend back down again quickly and try to come up with a half-believable explanation for why I’m hiding behind a shelf gawking. Before I have to embarrass myself further, however, I hear the tinkle of the bell above the door, and they’re gone.
I try to shake myself back to my senses.
What’s gotten into me? Hiding behind shelves, staring at strangers, hearing things that aren’t there …
“You doing okay back there?” the old man calls to me from the front. He must think I’m nuts.
I stand and straighten my posture, hoping my face isn’t burning as red as it feels. “Was just looking for a snack to take to school with me.”
I see his eyebrows raise and his mouth form a disbelieving grin.
Of course he knows I’m lying. He probably watched me on the CCTVs stuck all over the store, wondering what I’ve been doing this whole time. I decide to skip looking for this supposed snack and just pay for my coffee so that I can leave before I die of embarrassment.
What a great job I’m doing of making first impressions in this town so far.
I walk up to the counter with my coffee and try to smile at him innocently, like I haven’t just been acting like a creeper in his store. Out the window, I notice the boys pile into a big, red Jeep with someone else in the driver’s seat. As the Jeep pulls away, the boy with the copper streaks in his hair looks back toward the store … at me.
Right at me.
Or, at least I think he does, just for a second. By why would he be?
“That’ll be ninety-nine cents, please.”
Startled again, I dig into my pocket for my change. When the door opens behind me again, I feel my stomach twist. If it’s my dad, I’m screwed. If it’s the two hot boys again, I’m probably going to turn several shades of red and try to pretend I’m invisible.
