by Amy Cross
“I don't just mean how long it's been physically here,” he continues, “I mean how long those doors have been unlocked. 9am on January 1st, about five years ago, was the very last time that this branch of BarraBuy was shut. Ever since then it has been open and staffed, through rain and shine, through nightmare and catastrophe, through every holiday known to mankind. Even on Christmas Day itself, this store has remained open for the people of this county so they can come in and get whatever crap they need at whatever time of the day or night.” He sighs yet again. “We're part of a proud tradition here, Rita, and we have a responsibility. We don't have to do anything particularly complicated, but we do have to keep our heads down and not cause trouble.”
Staring at him, I realize that he's serious.
“So you honestly haven't seen any of the weird stuff tonight?” I ask finally. “The woman clutching her waist?”
He shakes his head.
“The thing that crawled in on its back?”
Another shake.
Sighing, I realize that either I'm being expertly pranked, or that maybe I'm over-reacting to some half-glimpsed weirdness, or that maybe – just maybe – a little of both is happening at once.
“Fine,” I mutter, not wanting to wade any deeper into his mess, “can you just tell me what I'm supposed to do next?” Checking my phone, I see that it's a little before 2am. “We've got another four hours on this shift, right? Is no-one gonna come in and actually buy anything?”
“There's people here already,” he replies, “but they're still browsing.” Getting to his feet, he stretches for a moment before coming around to join me. “Ordinarily I'd send you out to walk the floor for a while, but I think maybe you need time to settle down. You seem to have one of those overactive imagination's going on in that skull of yours so instead I want you to sit here, be polite to anyone who comes in, and call me on the radio if you have trouble ringing folk up. Have you ever used a cash register before?”
“No.”
“There's instructions taped to the counter,” he mutters, turning and making his way toward the aisles. “I'll be back soon. Just remember to call me if you get stuck.”
“I will,” I reply, “but -”
Realizing that he's not going to listen to me, I make my way around the counter and take a seat. I feel completely ill-prepared for this, and although I quickly find the taped set of instructions, I doubt I'd be able to ring up anyone's purchases. At the same time, I know I have to show some initiative here, and the last thing I need is to be written off as some dumb kid. Taking a deep breath, I start going through the instructions, trying to work out precisely how everything works. Lost in all the menus and sub-menus of the computer system, I completely zone out for a few minutes and even start muttering to myself.
By the time I hear the footsteps, they've almost reached me. Glancing up and expecting to see Harvey returning, I instead find that there's no-one around. The footsteps continue, however, until they stop on the other side of the register, as if someone is right there.
I wait, but there's no sign of another soul nearby.
“Great,” I mutter, telling myself that it's just another of Harvey's dumb pranks. “Very funny.”
IV
“Come on,” I mutter, rifling through the filing cabinet's top drawer, trying to check the personnel records before Harvey gets back from the bathroom. My shift is almost over and I still haven't had a chance to look for information about Shannon, so either I do it now or I wait until next time.
Finding the section for B, I quickly locate a folder titled 'Bone, Rita' and look inside to see just a copy of my work contract. When I take a look at the next folder, however, my heart almost jumps into my throat as I see the title 'Bone, Shannon'.
Stopping for a moment, I realize this might be it.
This might be the answer to all my questions.
I pull the file out slowly, and I can already feel that it's pretty full. After heading to the door and leaning out to check there's still no sign of Harvey, I head to the table and open the file, and sure enough there's way more than just an old work contract in here. Rifling through the paperwork, I find employee report forms and various other documents, and even -
Suddenly a small, square piece of paper slips out and falls onto the table. Even before I pick it up and turn it over, I know exactly what it is, but I still feel a punch to the gut when I take a look.
It's Shannon's I.D. photo.
She's smiling at the camera, with that hint of I-don't-wanna-be-here in her eyes that I remember so well.
For a moment, all I can do is hold the photo in my trembling right hand and stare at my sister's face.
“Where are you?” I whisper, before reminding myself that I need information. As I start going through the documents again, I keep a lookout for anything that might indicate a forwarding address or some kind of correspondence dated from after the night she disappeared.
A moment later I hear the door swinging open. Trying not to panic, I manage to drop the papers everywhere before turning and seeing a younger guy watching me with a frown. He's wearing an orange BarraBuy t-shirt, just like me, and he looks to be about my age, maybe a year or two older, with jet-black hair and dark, ringed eyes.
“Hi,” he says cautiously, with a hint of a smile. “You must be the new girl.”
“Wrong file,” I mutter, crouching down to start picking up the documents.
“Here,” he replies, reaching down to help, “let me -”
“I've got it, thanks,” I reply, snatching the first piece of paper from his hand. Scooping the rest up from the floor, I set them on the table and try not to freak out as I start putting them back in order.
“Shannon Bone?” the guy says as he comes over to join me. He picks up the photo and looks at it for a moment, before I take it from him. “Why are you -”
“It's nothing,” I stammer, feeling as if my heart is about to explode.
“What is she, your sister or something?”
Turning, I see that he's looking at my chest. It takes a moment before I'm able to put two and two together, and finally I look down at my name tag.
“Uh, yeah,” I reply, glancing at his tag and seeing that his name is Joe. “I'm sorry, I was just being dumb, please don't tell anyone that you caught me doing this.”
“Caught you doing what?”
“Going through her...” My voice trails off for a moment, before I start shoving the papers back into Shannon's file. I guess no-one's going to notice if they're in the wrong order anyway. “I got confused,” I continue, taking the file over to the cabinet and slipping it back into place. “My shift's coming to an end and I just happened to see my sister's stuff in here and...” Slamming the drawer shut, I turn to find that this Joe guy is still watching me with an amused smile. “Please don't tell anyone,” I say again.
“I won't.”
I pause for a moment, wanting nothing more than to run out of the room. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see that my shift isn't over for another three minutes.
“I'm here to relieve you,” Joe says suddenly.
I turn to him. “What?”
“You were working overnight, right? I'm one of the morning guys.”
“That's great.”
“Are you okay?” he continues. “You look kinda... startled.”
“It's just been a long night.”
“Who were you working with?”
I swallow hard. “Harvey.”
He immediately laughs. “Jesus, they threw you in at the deep end, huh?” Making his way past me, he grabs the rota sheet and takes a look for a moment. “I guess it's too late to warn you, but just so you know, Harvey's an absolute psychopath. Not in a dangerous way, just...” He pauses, as if he's trying to think of the right word. “He can be a real dick. Trust me, you won't learn a damn thing from him. The only reason he doesn't get fired is that the last time they tried, he lawyered up and freaked the store's parent company out. I think they figure
it's cheaper and less hassle to just let him stay.” He smiles. “They shouldn't have put you on with him for your first ever shift, though. That's just cruel.”
“It was okay,” I tell him. “Apart from the pranks.”
“Pranks?”
“Never mind,” I mutter, glancing at the clock and seeing that my shift is just thirty seconds from being over.
“You should come on with me some time,” Joe continues. “I could actually teach you something useful.”
I turn to him.
“About the store,” he adds, checking the rota again. “Looks like we're both working the same night shift later in the week, so that's good. Just write tonight off as a freaky little introduction, and try to avoid Harvey as much as possible from now on. Seriously, the guy just causes problems and complications wherever he goes. This one time, I swear to God you won't believe me, but he actually -”
“I've gotta go,” I tell him, grabbing my jacket and heading to the door. “Shift's over.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Stopping in the doorway, I pause for a moment before turning back to him. “How long have you worked here?”
“Jesus, too long. Almost since it opened.”
“So...” Another pause as my mind races. “Did you ever meet my sister while she was here?”
“You mean that Shannon girl you were just looking up in the filing system?” He shakes his head. “Sorry, I think she must've been just before my time. Why?”
“Nothing,” I reply, “I just... I just wondered, that's all.”
“Is something wrong?” he asks. “Is she in trouble?”
“It's fine,” I stammer, “just forget I said anything.” Before he can reply, I turn and make my way out. Harvey's at the register, still fiddling with his phone, so I force myself to say a few words to him, thanking him for his help during my first shift, and then I hurry out the main door just as more orange-shirted members of the day shift arrive.
Outside, the sun is starting to tint the horizon with an orange hue. I make my way across the parking lot, heading toward the road ready for the long walk home, but for a moment I stop and glance toward the vast dark forest. If I cut through that way, I'd be home in about an hour, instead of the almost two-hour walk I'm facing if I take the road the long way around. To be honest, there's a tiny part of me that's tempted, but fortunately I quickly remind myself not to be so dumb.
“Never go into the forest,” I hear Shannon's voice saying, echoing from one of the many warnings she gave me while she was still around. “Whatever else you do, never set foot in that forest, do you understand?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, feeling a shiver as I realize that I might never hear her voice again, not in real life. Then again, I shouldn't give up hope just yet. Next time I come to work, I'm going to try to get into the computer system and search for more records. There has to be some record of where Shannon went, she can't have just vanished into the night all those years ago.
Exhausted, I make my way to the edge of the parking lot and then I start to walk home, following the road that snakes around the edge of the forest.
Part Two
BRIAN
I
“Brian, can you hear me? Brian, if you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand.”
What hand?
What's she talking about?
For a moment, I can't work out what's wrong. I feel so tired, I can barely even lift my mind from the fuzzy haze that seems to fill my head. It's as if I haven't had a conscious thought for so long, I've almost forgotten how, as if I can barely remember how to put words together. I don't see anything, either; I try to look around, but the world doesn't seem to have any color, any shape, and nothing wants to move. I can already feel myself drifting again, as the gap between each thought gets longer, stretching to infinity and -
“Brian, I need you to focus. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”
There it is again. That infernal voice. What the hell does it want?
“Brian?”
Suddenly there's a blast of light, filling my mind. I want to scream, but I can't find my mouth so all I can do is endure the brightness as if overwhelms me. A moment later I become aware of a sharp, catching sensation, unpleasant but also welcome since it's the first sign that my body still exists. I try to work out what's happening, where the sensation is coming from, and finally I narrow it down to my face. Something's touching me, pulling on me, manipulating my features and...
My eyelid.
Something's holding my eyelid, forcing my left eye open.
That's how the light's getting in.
“Brian,” the voice says again, more insistent now but also more defined, as if it's closer. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. This is very important. My name is Doctor Mary Campion and I need to know if you can hear what I'm saying to you. Don't try to speak just yet, we don't want you to strain yourself, but please try to squeeze my hand.”
I want the light to go away, but somewhere in the miasmic haze there's a sense of feeling again, of something that might, just might, be my left hand. I wait, trying to fill the sensation out, and slowly I realize that, yes, I can feel my hand, and something's touching it, maybe even holding it. I immediately try to tense my fingers, but I have no idea if I actually managed to make my hand move. Something's very wrong, and there's a sense of panic in my chest now, pulsing through my thoughts as it rides my blood vessels, mingling with my heartbeat.
“That's good,” the voice continues. “I felt that, Brian. That's really good. I'm going to let you rest now, but we're going to slowly increase the dosage and hopefully bring you around over the next few hours. You'll most likely find yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, but that's perfectly normal for this stage of your recovery. Well done, you're really showing that fighting spirit we were told about.”
What do those words even mean?
The light fades, and I realize that my eye is closed again. A moment later, I realize that no-one is holding my hand anymore, and suddenly I feel an immense burst of loneliness. It's as if my body has drifted away again and I'm just a mind floating in some kind of gray nothingness. I want that voice to come back, but all I can do is twist and turn in my own nightmare as my thoughts start to swim through something foreign, something that seems to be being pumped into my brain with every beat of my heart.
I'm rising.
Slowly, I'm drifting upward. There's some kind of beeping noise nearby, like a machine, and I'm getting closer.
II
“That's really good,” Doctor Lucas continues with a smile, flashing the light into my other eye. “That's good too. All your vital signs are above expectations, Mr. Carter. I think we're going to be able to gently accelerate your recovery program and -”
“Get that thing out of my face,” I reply, pushing his hand away. “Haven't you run enough tests already?”
“There are no shortcuts,” he continues with that same bland, condescending tone that all the staff have at this infernal hospital. “However you feel right now -”
“I feel like shit!”
“Brian,” Alison says, reaching over and putting a hand on my arm. “Please.”
“It's true!” I hiss. “My God, I feel like I've been turned inside out. Everyone keeps asking me how I feel over and over again, but then they tell me to calm the fuck down when I give them an honest answer. It's like...” Suddenly feeling breathless, I lean back and take several deep breaths. “What the hell is wrong?” I whisper. “I feel like an old man.”
“You're going to be fine,” Alison continues. “You just need to take it easy.”
“You sound like them,” I mutter. “That's not a compliment, by the way.”
“I'll let you have some time alone,” Doctor Lucas replies, making some notes on a clipboard. “Someone'll be along in the morning to discuss a physio program and -”
“I don't need physio!” I hiss.
“You've been in a coma,” he points out. “Muscle weakn
ess is going to be a factor.”
“Do I look weak to you?” I ask, trying to sit up despite all the wires attached to my chest. Feeling a knot of pain in my shoulders, however, I gasp and settle back against the pillow. Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me? I was such a strong man, a tough man, I've barely been sick in my life. Now I'm suddenly this twisted, knotted wreck in a hospital bed with people fussing over me all the time.
“If you need anything,” Doctor Lucas says to Alison, putting a hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her, “just come to the desk and ask for me, and I'll come back through.”
“Thank you,” Alison replies.
“For God's sake,” I mutter as Doctor Lucas leave the room. “Whose side are you?”
“You're a terrible patient,” Alison says to me after a moment, reaching over and putting her hand on my arm again. “At this rate, you're gonna make them wish you were back in that coma. They're only trying to help you, you know. They've been amazing all this time, doing everything to make you more comfortable.” Leaning closer, she kisses the side of my face. “You have no idea how scared I was, Brian. There were times when I thought...” She pauses for a moment, with her hot breath against my skin. “Well, we're through that part of it now. Now we can focus on getting you out of here.”
“You might as well call a cab,” I tell her.
“Brian -”
“I don't want to be here!”
She sighs. “Do you have any idea how badly hurt you were? When you were found by the side of the road -”
“Some idiot drove straight into me,” I mutter.
“A drunk idiot,” she continues. “They estimated he was going almost twice the speed limit. It's a miracle he only glanced you instead of hitting you straight on, or...” Her voice trails off for a moment, and there are tears in her eyes. “Have they explained all the injuries you suffered? A fractured skull, broken shoulder, broken arm, broken -”
“Did they catch the son-of-a-bitch?” I snap, interrupting her.
