by Dave Ferraro
Chapter Eight
Tab’s Crab Shack looked like a dumpy hole-in-the-wall from the outside, part of a brick building in dire need of some work, but inside, it was brightly lit, with cheesy Christmas lights strung across the ceiling, and a silly cartoon crab mascot plastered across the walls and menus. So, it was a hole-in-the-wall. But a nice one. The kind of place that locals loved, but tourists weren’t going to be wandering into unless it was listed in a travel book’s “Best Kept Secrets” section. Steven was definitely right about the food though. It was amazing. They kept getting more plates of the never-ending crab legs until they felt like they were going to throw up. It was an expensive menu option, and Steven insisted that they get their money’s worth. Not that Krystal minded. It was buttery and delicious. It was only as they were leaving the restaurant that she regretted giving in. She felt like she was going to burst out of her navy blue spaghetti-strap dress. She had to look awful. And why had she indulged in looking like a pig in front of Steven? Not that he’d held back. She supposed he just had that infectious sort of personality that made her want to do what he wanted wholeheartedly, consequences be damned.
And they’d had fun. That’s what really mattered in the end, right?
“Well, you can definitely eat,” Steven observed with a smile as they walked up the block through a thick fog.
She punched him playfully in the shoulder. “You insisted.”
“I know, I know,” he said defensively. “I was just surprised is all. I like a girl who can eat. It’s hot.”
Krystal laughed, feeling giddy as they strolled along the dark streets, jazz music spilling out from open doorways, chasing away the unnerving quiet of the night. In the fog, the gas lamps looked fuzzy, like they were radiating an unearthly glow over the streets, making them seem haunted and surreal. The fog was so dense that they could barely see five feet in front of them, so they were careful to stick to sidewalks when they wandered along a main road.
“New Orleans feels haunted tonight,” Krystal observed quietly.
“It has a reputation to live up to,” Steven agreed, and Krystal was happy to find him slip his hand in hers. She was worried for a moment that he would find it cold or clammy, but if it was, he didn’t seem to notice, and they walked like that, through the streets for what seemed like hours. He pointed out several landmarks and places he liked as they toured the streets, but with the fog as it was, they had to get close to each destination, and she couldn’t fully appreciate what she was supposed to be seeing unless there was a break in the fog, which seemed insistent on hanging around, giving the air a damp smell and dusting their skin with dew.
“Sorry,” he said after a while. “Not the best tour.”
“It’s not the ideal night for it,” Krystal admitted, “but I’m still having fun.”
“Really?”
She felt her heart speed up at the wide smile he offered her. He really was a handsome guy. “Really.”
“Good.” He paused and looked at her sideways. “Can I show you something? Some place special to me?”
She felt touched that he would ask and nodded silently, letting him pull her through the streets. Everything was a blur in the fog and she had no idea where they were going, and couldn’t read any street signs for her life. She only started to get a little nervous when they’d been walking for quite a while and they encountered fewer and fewer buildings. The sound of the city was long gone, as were the echoing steps of other people’s shoes hitting the pavement. “Where are we going?” she asked, hesitating. She felt a chill seep into her spine and she shuddered, despite herself.
“It’s not far,” he told her. He gave her hand a squeeze and she smiled at the determination in his face, even if she did feel a little odd about the situation.
Crickets provided a soundtrack to the night as they stepped past a crumbling wall of brick and into a field of long dry weeds. Krystal stepped carefully over railroad tracks while Steven waited patiently for her, excitement lighting up his face. She looked around as he quickened his pace, darting between train cars no longer on the main tracks.
“It’s just up ahead,” he said, looking back at her.
“What is it?” she wondered, looking up at the train cars, dark hulking figures in the night. It felt ominous out here, far from the warm light of the lamps that lined the busy streets.
He suddenly stopped and dropped her hand, jumping up onto a step along the side of one of the cars. He pulled on a handle and the side of the train car slid open with a loud rattle. He leapt inside and a light suddenly illuminated the interior.
“Madame,” Steven leaned out of the car, offering her his arm.
She laughed as she took hold of it, using it to steady herself as she pulled herself up and into the glow of the light.
Frowning, she looked around the train. “What is this?”
Steven smiled brightly and threw his arms up. “This is my getaway. Whenever I feel like I’ve had enough of school, of my parents, of…of life, I come here. To be alone, and think.” He shrugged as he dropped onto a beat-up looking couch.
Krystal gazed around the room, lit by a lantern. There was the faded sofa that Steven was sitting in, a tattered rug on the floor, and a table against one wall with notebooks and various papers strewn over its scratched surface. It felt like a little attic bedroom. “It’s nice. Like a little home away from home.”
“Thank you,” Steven said, sitting forward. He gazed up at her for a moment in the light of the lantern, then jumped up and opened a cooler that had been stashed beneath the table. “Want a water? It’s probably warm, but…”
“Sure,” she agreed. And watched as he pulled an ipod out of a drawer on the desk, then attacked a portable speaker to it. He handed her the water and she followed suit as he sat down on the sofa again. Light jazz music began to pour out of the speaker.
“I feel like I can breathe here,” Steven said, leaning his head back, his eyes straying to the ceiling. “Things between me and my dad are…strained. We’re always fighting. Over stupid shit. When I come here, I can do what I want without him getting in my face. I need this. I can just listen to music, write, hang out. It’s nice to be able to disappear for a while.” He chuckled. “I’ve even slept here a few times, when things have gotten really bad.”
She watched him, feeling emotion well up in her chest for him. He was being so open and honest with her, leaving himself vulnerable to her…it was refreshing, and she felt like she would do whatever she could to make him happy, if even for a little while. She suddenly felt very guilty about her undercover work. This was all a façade. She would leave in a few days, and Steven would be left in the dust, wondering where she’d gone. Could she really be so cruel, after he’d shown her this part of himself? Could she really continue to lie and betray his trust, while he was investing this in her? It felt so wrong. She would end up hurting him.
“I’m glad you came here,” he said, suddenly looking at her again, and making her feel worse about herself. “I haven’t been able to connect with people like this for a while. It’s hard with strangers. But somehow, it’s so easy with you, like we’ve been talking for years.”
She nodded, feeling similar. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” she said, trying to ease her guilt by preparing him for her eventual absence. “My dad’s job…it’s short-term work.”
“Oh,” he sat up. “I mean, it’s cool. Fern Dell isn’t that far. Before long, we’ll be driving and…even if you aren’t around, we can keep in contact, talk…”
“I’d like that,” she said, nodding, but not offering up that she wouldn’t be in Louisiana period. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. I just wanted you to know before this turned into…anything.”
He grinned. “Do you think this is going to turn into something?”
Krystal felt her cheeks warm. “Not necessarily. I just wanted to be upfront. So I don’t hurt you
if I suddenly have to go.”
“I get it,” he said, sitting back again. “And thank you for that. I’ve had enough disappointment in my life to last me…well, a lifetime.”
“It’s not easy,” Krystal sympathized.
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. He looked at her sideways. “I knew you would be different. I mean, you always were. People said you talked to ghosts and stuff, called you ‘Spooky’ behind your back. Kids are cruel.”
“Yes, they are.”
“And…do you remember what happened with the Redfords? That was weird stuff.”
Krystal froze.
“I mean, how did you find their kid’s body?” he asked. “Especially in that swamp? They’d been looking for that body for like a year, and never found it and you led them right to their boy.” He shook his head. “People talked after that, that’s for sure. Even heard about it in New Orleans. But it couldn’t have gone like that, right? I mean, stories get exaggerated all the time.”
“They do,” she said, nodding stiffly.
He watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t. He sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…intrude or anything.”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m just…tired.”
“Tired,” he echoed. He stood up and turned off his ipod, throwing the speaker back into the drawer alongside it. “Yeah, I’ve probably kept you out long enough. I should walk you home.”
“I’m staying at the school for a few nights,” Krystal parroted the lie that Hunter had dreamed up for her. “Until my dad secures a place. You can take me there.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Krystal hated that things had gotten tense for a moment there, and it seemed to weigh heavy over the entire evening, which was a shame, since things had been going so well. Damn her powers and the trouble they caused.
They walked back mostly in silence. Steven kept trying to strike up conversation again, but it kept fizzling out, making things feel awkward. By the time they reached the busy streets again, louder now that the bars were filling with patrons, they had stopped trying to talk altogether and once they passed Tab’s Crab Shack, Krystal told him she could get back to the school herself.
“Are you sure?” he frowned. “I mean, I don’t mind walking you.”
“It’s cool,” she said, pasting on a smile. “I know it’s a bit of a hike for you, and I don’t scare easy. I kind of like the fog too. It’s pretty.”
“I still think I should-“
“I’m good,” she said, backing up from him, keeping the smile in place. “Promise. I’ll see in school tomorrow, okay?”
Steven looked a little confused, but nodded. “Okay.”
Then she turned from him and let the fog swallow her. And allowed the tears to come. She didn’t mind them so much if he couldn’t see them. She would have died if she’d started crying on him as he walked her home, which was why she’d insisted on parting ways.
She didn’t know why she was so emotional. She would be leaving Steven behind in a few days anyway. She knew that going in. She wasn’t really expecting to feel such an attachment to him right away, but she’d kept that in the back of her mind the entire time. This was a job, and that was all it was. But it still hurt. Especially since it was her own strangeness that had gotten between them. Her stupid powers drawing attention to her. It was how Hunter and Visum et Repertum had found her. Why everyone in Fern Dell and, apparently, all of Louisiana, had labeled her a freak. Someone associated with the dead. Why couldn’t she just be a normal girl? That was all she wanted. To dance with boys and flirt and go to school, but no…she had to dance with corpses and talk to ghosts and train to be Xena, Warrior Princess of the Dead. It was so unfair. Why couldn’t these powers have gone to someone who wanted them? It would always come between her and others. It had come between her and her family. They’d been more than happy to let her leave with Hunter. And the hunters…even they were frightened of her. Thought of her as a monster. It just sucked to be her. Alone and…weird.
She swiped at her tears, berating herself for being so weak. One boy gets spooked and suddenly she’s falling apart? What was wrong with her?
She shook her head, then chuckled, flinching at the sound as it echoed in the fog around her eerily. Was it too much to ask to feel like a regular girl for one night? To dress up nice and flirt and make eyes at one another across a room? It’s true what they said: you couldn’t run from your past. It definitely catches up to you.
The nearer Krystal got to the school, and the mansion that was her real destination, the darker the streets grew, and the more space between houses. She hadn’t seen a person for about ten minutes when she heard footsteps behind her. Heavy footfalls, like they weren’t bothering to be quiet, but were plodding along the side of the road, going in the same direction as she was.
Krystal paused a moment, wondering in a bout of paranoia if she was being followed. But that was silly, of course. Who would be following her? And why?
She looked back, but the fog was hiding anyone that might be behind her. Cocking her head, she listened for any noise, but nothing came to her ear. The footsteps had stopped.
“Hello?” she called tentatively, not really expecting a response. But maybe it would prompt whoever it was to begin moving again. She waited for a full minute before she began moving again, slowly, and throwing glances back over her shoulder, like she expected something to fly out of the fog at her.
She snorted at her own imagination, realizing that whoever it had been probably lived in the neighborhood and had gone inside just before she’d had her little scare.
And then she heard it again.
She slowed her pace, but continued to walk, listening over the sound of her own feet to the heavy steps following behind her. No normal person would have stopped and stood, waiting for minutes like that, after she’d called out. Either someone was following her or someone was toying with her. Was it perhaps Steven? Maybe he’d wanted to see her home after all, even if she’d dismissed him. But then why would he be skulking after her like this? And whoever it was that was behind her was not trying to hide their footfalls. They were loud, nearly deafening in the quiet blanket of fog, which seemed to absorb all other noise.
She stopped and whirled around. “Who’s there? You might as well show yourself. I know you’re there!” She glared into the fog defiantly, as if whoever was following her could see her, and clearly enough to make out the seriousness of her expression.
Nobody answered her, so she tilted her head, thinking. This was starting to spook her. Funny that ghosts didn’t spook her, but noises in the fog did. New Orleans, supposedly this haunted city, didn’t seem to have more ghosts than any other city she’d visited, yet it sure seemed to have its fill of creeps.
She eyed the grass on the side of the road and smiled to herself. Of course, if they couldn’t see her, if they were basing her movements on the sound of her footfalls, as she was for them, then they wouldn’t be able to follow if they couldn’t hear her.
She gracefully leapt into the grass and grinned back at the fog mischievously, before walking along the grass, her feet muffled by the greenery, which barely let out a sound at all. She smiled then, smug in the knowledge that she’d outsmarted whoever was playing games with her. It wouldn’t be so fun for them without a participant.
After walking for a few minutes without hearing the sound of pursuit behind her, Krystal began to feel safer, and stepped back onto the pavement with a sigh of relief. Good date, gone bad. Good day, gone bad. She wished she could change how things had gone, but that was life, wasn’t it? Reliving mistakes and wishing you could change things? Who ever really got what they wanted? She just wished she could go curl up in a hot shower and cry, but she wouldn’t get that at the mansion. If she wanted a shower, it would be at the school and it would be lukewarm at best. She couldn’t wait to get away from here, away from
her home state, and back to Lime Bay, where she belonged. Where she could study how to control her powers and at least pretend to not be a freak.
She stopped abruptly as she heard steps begin behind her again.
Her eyes widened and she turned to look back. The fog was less dense now and she could see a figure in the fog. There was still too much interference to see anything clearly, but she could make out a dark shape in the swirling whiteness. A tall, dark shape, like a man with broad shoulders, perhaps six feet tall. His arms were at his sides and he stood ramrod straight, and was just standing there, facing her, like he was staring at her.
She swallowed a cry and put a fist to her mouth. She backed up a step and watched with horror as the shape took a step in pursuit. A mechanical step in her direction. And she suddenly had the terrifying thought that this was a zombie. Not an eat-your-brains George Romero zombie, but a zombie that had its roots in voodoo lore. An empty thing. A thing void of life and feeling, that acted like a living doll. It certainly moved without feeling, without humanity. It may have been shaped like a human being, but she knew on an instinctive level that it was not. Nor was it dead. Her tendrils of necromancy rolled over the shape, feeling it, but didn’t find dead flesh to dig into. It was a dead person in a living body.
Turning on her heel, she ran the rest of the way to the mansion, not pausing once to see if it pursued her. She ran like her life depended on it. Because it probably did.
