by Jackie Zack
She frowned.
“At any rate, I do have a driver’s license, but—”
“Good, good. Well, I do hope you’ll be careful.” She tapped a pen. “Oh! Will you sign my book?” She slid The Unseen toward him and handed him the pen.
“Sure. Your name?” He held the pen and clicked it a couple of times. The doorbell jingled. Two shadowy shapes moved from the front of the store to an aisle. He wanted to see more than his peripheral vision, but the goddess in front of him made it impossible.
“Dafina. D-a-f-i-n-a.” She leaned close as she spelled her name. A fresh smell of flowers and mint wafted his way.
He smiled as he wrote, glad to know her name, but he’d never see her again. The things that might have been, only to be dissuaded by circumstance. Why did his inner voice always have to sound like a narrator? He closed the book, set the pen on top of it, and slid it back to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Slate. Enjoy your Agatha Christie, map, journal, and pens.”
He shook his head.
“You won’t enjoy your Ag—”
“I will. But please, it’s Kory.”
She wore a worried expression. “Thank you, Kory.”
He held up the bag. “Thank you, Dafina.”
“Be careful, now.”
“I will. Bye.” He moved toward the door. Why was parting so sorrowful?
“Bye.” She waved. “Come again.”
“I will.” Now he must make sure to come again. Perhaps when he was ready to leave the country. He opened the door. It jingled. He turned back. She waved. He waved. That wasn’t awkward at all.
Dafina picked up the phone and punched in numbers.
“Hello?” Irritation came through along with the greeting.
“Bobi. It’s me from next door. I have to make this quick because he’s heading right over.
“Dafina? What do you mean? Who’s on their way over?”
The bells on his door jingled through the phone. “Shhh. Keep your voice down and answer, so he won’t know that you’re talking to me.”
“What?” The sound of Bobi’s hand covering the phone swished in her ear. “Just a minute sir, be right with you.”
“Thank you.” Kory’s voice.
“The man—in your store, he’s looking for a mountain bike, and he’s never ridden anything but a child’s bike.”
“Huh? That’s odd.”
“No, no. I mean when he was a child. Keep on track, Bobi.”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat.
“Give him a nice sturdy bike, but not one with too many gears. And help him with the map. He doesn’t have any idea where he’s going or what he’s doing.”
“A regular dumbbell, huh?”
“Actually, he’s quite intelligent. But he needs guidance. Make sure to give him directions for the bike trail that goes by my house. You know the one. Poor fellow. If he can make it that far, it will be a blessing.”
“Ride to y—”
“Shhh! Now don’t blow it, Bobi.”
“I won’t. I won’t. Well, good bye, now.”
“Bye.” She hung up the phone.
Men. Were they really the superior thinkers of the human race?
Dafina opened the book to see what Kory wrote.
Dear Dafina, The butler did it. Now you don’t have to read the horrible mess. Best wishes always, Kory Slate
She took in a surprised breath and scowled as Gweneth reappeared. Dafina would read it anyway. The butler indeed. In fact, she had more compulsion to read it than she ever did in the first place.
“You helped the customer?”
She nodded. “But he wasn’t any ordinary customer.”
“Hmm?”
“It was Kory Slate in the flesh.” Dafina pointed at the portrait on the back of the book.
“Oh, no, I thought it kind of looked like ‘im.” Gweneth lifted her palms upward and let them drop, “I missed the sexy writer of horror from America?”
“Don’t worry. He said he’d come again.”
A ray of hope shone on her face.
“And he’s not that sexy. He can’t even drive a car.”
Chapter 3
Kory circled the name of the little burgh on the map. He didn’t trust himself to remember the town where he met Dafina. He could go back to Cardith and hope a bus took him on the same route—but no. He also wrote the street address on the map for good measure.
He glanced back at the antique store where the man named Bobi looked out the window at him. When the antique dealer had talked on the phone, he’d stared right at Kory. It was almost like Bobi had called him a regular dumbbell.
Then again, Bobi was quite accommodating. He drew out a map of a riding trail not too far away and continued the map to the next town over, saying that Kory would have no trouble finding a place to stay. From there, he could pick up another trail to another town.
After he paid for the bike, two old books caught his eye—Dracula, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The covers were intricate and colorful in their turn-of-the-century design. He totally would’ve bought them and mailed them home, but he didn’t want any sort of a paper trail.
His mom, dad and sister thought he was still in the country. Not to mention his off again, on again girlfriend, Sundae. He’d made his destination vague on purpose, since he didn’t know where he’d end up. Assuring them that they could reach him by phone didn’t go over well, but they’d finally given up, even Sundae. She gave him a dark look like she was off again, but it didn’t take much with her.
He put on his backpack and set off down the road careful to follow the traffic on the wrong side. He took in a breath of fresh air, only to find it filled with car exhaust. He coughed and the bike wavered dangerously. What better way to find and reclaim his inner man than to risk life and limb?
After several long rows of businesses, the road sported peach colored apartment buildings, constructed as a long row of townhouses along either side of the road. No space could be found between them, no trees, no grass. At first they seemed a cheerful distraction, but then took on the grim prospect of a foreboding fortress. Blank, white curtained windows stared down on him with nowhere to hide.
He pushed harder to get past the uncomfortable claustrophobia the apartments caused. He rounded a bend and the blamed buildings rounded, too. Where was a side street? In the distance beyond the peach barrier, a traffic light shone. Thank goodness. There had to be a break from them there. He wouldn’t be setting up housekeeping on this stretch and hoped it wouldn’t be a live spark for his next nightmare. Or maybe he should be glad for it. Could be part of his next book. He groaned. No writing. Remember?
Gritting his teeth, he looked in the distance to the misty tree covered mountains and the blue sky. How could he quit writing for a couple of months? The bike lurched into a pothole, nearly throwing him off. He steadied the bike as a dark green car sped by. White-blonde hair flowed in the breeze inside the car. Oh, no. Was it the platinum princess? Did she see him just in time to witness the wobbling? Ah, great. So much for restoring his faith in his manhood.
****
It was worse than Dafina ever imagined. Kory’s bike went out of control after the wheels took turns getting lost in a low dip of the road. “At least he didn’t fall down,” she said to Griff.
His ears lay flat then perked. He jumped to her lap and looked out the window.
“It’s too late now. The author is way back there. What are we going to do?”
No answer, only excitement. What did the little dog think?
“I feel responsible for him, I do. But what are you going to do when you can’t get people to listen? I warned him about the bike trails. And he isn’t even on the dirt roads yet.”
Griff whined.
“It’s okay. We’ll see what we can do.” She noted the odometer. Hopefully Bobi’s wonky map would do the trick. For once he’d had a stroke of genius.
She double checked the traveled amount when she arrived home. Just what s
he thought, twenty kilometers. If Kory moved about fifteen kilometers an hour, he’d arrive in about an hour and a half. But what if he was slower? He looked like he moved at a snail’s pace, but then again he was going uphill.
Griff followed close to her heels as she walked to her humble house’s front door and stepped in. By all the work that needed to be done, it was evident she was a single woman. She tossed her purse along with The Unseen on a chair and headed into the kitchen.
She shook her head at Kory’s choice of transportation. He could arrive anytime and she needed to be ready. “Well, Pops. What should we do?”
The pudgy man at the table didn’t answer.
****
Kory coasted down the road, thankful for a long downhill ride. The bike wavered at the high speed, and he applied the brakes which only made a squealing noise. Great. He guessed his family and Sundae would be surprised with a call from a Welsh hospital.
Who was he kidding? Sundae was probably out having the time of her life with a new boyfriend. Why did she even bother with him? Obviously, because she thought he was successful. She liked the thought of being with someone popular, and he hated to admit that he could see dollar signs in her eyes. Their goals in life weren’t the same.
He’d be happy with a small apartment and a computer to create a spellbinding world. His alternate life with characters that were his friends and foes. Sundae didn’t understand his need for time to write. But it was his career. He needed time to work. She hated the times he’d zone out, slipping into another dialog in his mind. It offended her, and it worried him that he could lose touch with his surroundings in seconds. But it was all part of the process he loved—too much.
Homes with green lawns and trees appeared. The mountains in the distance didn’t seem quite so far away. He stopped at a traffic light and pulled a paper from his pocket. According to the hand-drawn map, it wouldn’t be too long until he met the halfway point. He looked forward to coming to the village and finding a place to stay and eat dinner. His sense of adventure loved it.
He took a quick glance over his shoulder and his breath caught. Two men riding bikes were stopped at the last intersection behind him. Could it be the two from the plane? If only he could see their shoelaces, but the distance was too great.
The light changed, and he sped off. He rounded another bend and made a turn according to the map. It was a road less traveled, but homes still appeared in lightly forested areas. He looked behind him while navigating a curve. No one in sight. Thank goodness.
His bike picked up speed on a short decline, and he moved like his life depended on it. A breeze along with cooler air emanating from the forest refreshed him. His legs were way past the burning stage and turned into weak noodles. The daily hustle from his fifth floor apartment to the corner coffee shop must not be enough to keep him in good cycling form, even though he always took the stairs. Fleetingly, he missed the security of his apartment and the comfort of his couch.
“Uh-oh.”
He’d forgotten all about the plants in his window. They’d be goners by the time he got back. His mom did have a key, but he doubted the plants would even cross her mind. She and Dad were consumed with their work at the soup kitchen. They both loved to cook and serve. What a calling—how perfect a life. If only he could feel so…what was the word?
His sister wouldn’t even notice he was gone. He smiled. That’s the way it should be. Elaine was in love with her boyfriend, and Kory wouldn’t be surprised if they were engaged by the time he returned.
He didn’t have the same overwhelming feeling for Sundae. Yeah, it was pretty much over for them for good this time. He wouldn’t miss her wrinkled nose of disgust over every little thing. In ten years or so, her nose was going to have some serious wrinkle lines. Perfect for a character. Wait—no writing. No thinking about it either.
The man with bated breath contorted his face into a wicked snarl. His nose wrinkled into fleshy creases.
Kory shook his head. “Stop. Stop. Stop.”
The road took on an incline that became increasingly steep. Ah, help. He hopped off the bike and walked beside it. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Good thing he had bottled water in his backpack, but he’d hold out to drink until he was at the halfway mark. Good ol’ Bobi had said at the midpoint Kory would be able to see castle ruins on a mountain ridge to his right.
Tales of King Author and Merlin came to mind—old dungeons, jousting, forbidden love, magic to move stone pillars. He’d totally take on the persona of Merlin with dark hair like a raven and a cloak to match. Live in a cave with a pit-fire outside and document the stories. Add flourishes here and there to make it more exciting. Nice. He’d navigated a full circle all the way back to writing again.
When the castle ruins came into view, he pulled off the road and downed his bottle of water, every last drop. He eyed the road ahead. It didn’t look to be all downhill. He snapped a quick picture of the castle ruins for his friend Luke. Kory had promised if he ever got anywhere, he’d take pictures for him.
He took a deep breath and set out again. One thing for sure, he’d sleep well tonight. He could almost taste the wonderful dinner of meat, potatoes, and salad. Or something like that. His room would be quaint, with a comfortable bed and a window that looked out on the land roamed by the Knights of the Round Table. All he had to do was keep moving. He could make it.
Baloney.
****
Dafina tossed a frozen dinner in the microwave, gave a button a push, and set off to her room to change clothes. Americans were so terribly fond of their jeans, weren’t they? She pulled out a snug fitting pair from the closet and studied her assorted shirts. Kory Slate…Kory Slate, writer of horror. Her fingers tapped on the wall she leaned on. Ah! She pulled out a blood red top and held it against her as she peered in a mirror.
“Oh, I don’t know, Griff. I’m just not feelin’ red t’day.”
As she looked at the dog, he appeared happy to have her attention and panted a smile. He headed toward the kitchen with a backward glance.
“Hungry are you? Okay, okay. Just a minute, poppet.”
She returned the red shirt and pulled out a silky purple and paired it with a leopard scarf about the width of a men’s tie. “Yes, and yes!”
After changing her clothes, she headed back into the kitchen and fed Griff. The microwave made a high-pitched beep, making her ears ring. Griff took one more bite of food and scampered out of the kitchen, his feet slipping on the tile floor. The crazy oven was set way too loud with no way to change it. Usually she was lucky enough not to be in the kitchen when it went off. But not this time.
She took out the hot container and slapped the contents on a plate. Grabbing a spoon, she stirred the rice a couple of times, then headed toward the table. She changed her mind and stepped into the lounge instead. No way to stomach sitting next to Pops at the table. His face had turned a bit on the moldy side. Couldn’t be healthy at all.
After eating, she paced the floor by the front window. How would she catch Kory as he went by? She could wait by the postbox and go to open it as he came in sight. He’d be hot and tired and agree to anything. She snickered. For someone who wrote such a gruesome lot, he sure appeared pleasant.
Ee—gad. Still at least an hour to wait. She’d check out a few things to make sure they were in top order, then she’d mix up some tea cakes.
The tasks completed, she sat down for a few minutes to read The Unseen. It was written in the male character’s view in first person. As she read, she heard it in Kory’s voice. Almost as if he read it to her or were telling the sequence of events as it happened to him. Rather disconcerting that such a thing could happen, but she liked the flow of his masculine tone.
Oblivious to the time by being lost in the tale of the old childhood house with dark corners, she peered at the clock. “Oh, dear. We might ‘ave missed him, Griff. Let’s go.”
Griff sneezed for an answer.
Before heading out, she slipped th
e cakes in the oven at a lower temperature than usual.
She walked down the drive to the road, Griff trotting beside her. Looking both ways, there wasn’t an indication. “Maybe if we check the dirt road? Come on. Double time.”
Dafina jogged the stretch of paved road until she came to the edge of her property where it abruptly turned to a dirt road. “See that Griff?” She pointed. “No way to tell. Maybe we did miss ‘im.” Although, she’d been reading by the window and any movement from the street would’ve caught her attention.
“Oh, no. Not now.” She spied two nubby horns behind a bush. A small bell clanged. “Watch out, Griff. Don’t let the ugly thing get you.”
****
Kory’s second wind brought on more energy. A few downhill stretches along with a moderately level road gave his muscles a good chance to rebound with the easy repetitive motion. According to Bobi’s map, all he had to do was cross a stone bridge and follow the road around a large curve. The village would then be in sight. Thank you, Lord.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. The road came to and followed a rushing river. The clear water beside him moved in ripples over and around large rocks. The sound of the current was like music to his ears, just as refreshing as hearing a favorite song. In the distance was the bridge. He pumped harder.
When he crossed over the stone bridge, a certain happiness welled up inside. He was reclaiming his old self—the man who could accomplish anything he set to mind without being afraid or worried. How had the anxiousness settled and taken hold? And how freeing it was to have it disappear.
He stopped to turn back and enjoy the beauty of the hewn stone craftsmanship. A jolt of uneasiness clutched his chest. A lone bike rider appeared from the distant bend in the road. Someone touched his shoulder blade, making him jump. “Eahh!”
Turning to face whomever dared sneak up on him, his muscles tensed for a fight. No one there. How odd. Possibly his shirt had stuck to his sweaty skin and then let go, giving the strange sensation. Or else…no. Strange shadows clung near the edge of the bridge. Were they from clouds overhead? He looked up, uncertain. He pushed thoughts of his last book out of his mind.
