by Amy Cross
She pulls back. “What?”
“Give me your car!” I scream. “I'm not kidding, I'll fucking end your life if you don't give -”
Before I can finish, she slams her foot on the accelerator and I'm damn lucky not to trip and fall under her wheels as I pull back and crash down onto the tarmac. Landing with a crunch and letting out a gasp of pain, I turn just in time to see the woman's SUV speeding away. Taking a deep breath, I feel a sharp pain in my right side, almost as if I've got a few cracked ribs. Still, they wouldn't be the first and I doubt they'll be the last, and they usually heal well enough without too much fussing. Getting to my feet, I watch as the SUV disappears around the bend.
“Sorry, lady,” I mutter, “but you really didn't give me any other choice. I had to scare you off.”
Figuring that I just need to get home, I start limping along the road. At this pace, it'll take me at least an hour to get to the trailer park, but that's okay. Better this, than accepting help from some random stranger. I'd only end up owing her something, and that's the last thing I need.
I'll be fine. I just need to sleep.
IV
“Shannon, wake up!”
Opening my eyes, I sit up in my cramped little bed and look around, filled with panic as I wait for that white-faced thing to lunge at me again. After a moment, however, I realize that the only face I can see is my little sister, and she's staring at me with an expression of shock. Still, there was something in my dream, something chasing me, something...
Reaching up, I press a finger against the side of my neck and feel my pulse.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “It's racing.”
“You were having a nightmare,” Rita says cautiously. “You were crying out and rolling around. I've never seen you like that before.”
“A nightmare?” For a fraction of a second, I remember flashes of my dream. I was running through the forest and something was chasing me, something with pale, bone-white flesh and dirty yellow eyes, and black lines all over its face, and there was a sound like...
Knives, or some other kind of blade.
Blinking a couple of times, I realize that Rita is still staring at me. “I wasn't having a nightmare,” I tell her finally. “I don't get nightmares.”
“You were just now,” she replies.
“Shut up,” I continue, slumping back down against the bed before realizing that there's no way in hell my annoying sister is going to leave me alone. I wait, staring up at the ceiling, but I know she's still watching me and it's only a matter of time before -
“What's up with all those scratches?” she asks.
Bingo.
“It's nothing,” I mutter.
“But what happened?”
“Adult stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Like -” Sighing, I realize there's no way she's going to leave me alone. Turning to her, I can see the worry in her eyes. “I'm fine. Don't you have anything better to be doing with your time?” I wait for her to reply. “Oh wait,” I mutter. “Of course you don't.”
“You were out all last night.”
“Well duh, I know that.”
And when you came home, you went straight to bed.”
“I know that too.”
“And then you started having a nightmare.”
“I did not have a nightmare,” I tell her firmly. “I haven't had nightmares for years, I just -”
Suddenly I gasp as I feel something clawing at my arm from behind. Turning, I find myself staring at the wall just as the sensation fades. For a fraction of a second, it was as if that thing from my dream was reaching out and trying to hurt me.
“You did so have a nightmare,” Rita continues. “I was sitting here watching you.”
“Well that's creepy,” I tell her.
“You were talking in your sleep, too.”
I turn to her. “What was I saying?”
She stares at me for a moment. “It sounded silly,” she says finally, “but you were asking someone not to hurt you.”
“Who was I asking?”
She shrugs.
“What exactly was I saying?”
“You were saying how you were just looking for a shortcut, and you didn't mean to disturb someone, and you just wanted to go home.”
Staring at her, I can't help but feel that she's way too young and too dumb to make up something like that. “What else?” I ask cautiously.
“I couldn't hear all of it,” she continues. “I think at one point you were crying. You mentioned something about your watch, too.”
“No way.” When I reach up and touch my face, however, I realize I can feel half-dried tear tracks running down my cheeks. “No way,” I whisper, genuinely shocked. I honestly thought I couldn't do that anymore.
“You said you'd do anything to be allowed to go home,” Rita adds. “You were begging. Who was it, Shannon? Who were you talking to in your dream?”
“I -”
For a fraction of a second, I see the face again. It's as if the creature has pale, translucent skin stretched tight over a bone-white skull, with angry yellow eyes that seem to be filled with scraps of burned ash. I rub my eyes and it's gone, but I still can't shake the sensation of claws scratching against my flesh.
“You don't look good,” Rita says solemnly.
“Thanks,” I mutter, climbing out of bed and limping stiffly to the kitchen area. “Right back at you, kid.” Stopping for a moment, I realize I don't hear drunken snores anywhere. “Where's Mom?”
“Out.”
“At work?”
“She didn't say.”
“Well, here's hoping.” I pour water into a cracked cup and take a long gulp. “It's a miracle she hasn't been fired yet. She's really been stretching the definition of functional alcoholic to whole new levels.”
“She's almost a prostitute,” Rita mutters.
“What makes you say that?”
“There was a guy here a few nights ago,” she continues with a faint, troubled frown, “while you were out. They were having sex, it was really loud and then I think I saw him paying her as he was leaving.”
“What?” I want to tell her she's wrong, but unfortunately I can't rule out the possibility that Mom really has sunk to a whole new level. “Just don't think about it,” I say finally. “Let her do what she wants.”
“I promise. But your face...” She reaches out and runs her fingers against the cuts and scratches around my mouth. “What happened to you last night, Shannon? You've gone out before, but you've never come home like this.”
“It was nothing,” I reply, “I just... I took a bad shortcut home, that's all.”
“What kind of shortcut?”
“I...” Realizing that this would be a good opportunity to scare her straight, I take a deep breath. “Never go into the forest,” I continue finally. “Promise me that, Rita. Always walk the long way around, always use the road. Never, ever go beyond the first line of trees. I know I've told you this before, but this time I really, really mean it.” I wait for her to reply, but I'm not quite sure I've got the rules drilled into her yet. “Promise me.”
“I promise. But... What's in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Did something hurt you?”
“No,” I lie, even though I feel like I'm close to tears again. “Nothing hurt me, okay?”
“But -”
“Just don't go in there,” I continue, putting my arms around her and hugging her tight. “Not ever. You have to promise.”
Again I wait for an answer.
“Okay,” she says finally. “I promise.”
Letting go of her, I get to my feet and make my way to the window. Outside, the only sign of life is that asshole Scottie sitting outside his trailer. I'm exhausted and I need to sleep, but at the same time I can't imagine my mind resting any time soon. There's a part of me that feels like I have to find a way back into my memories so I can remember what happened last night, but at the same time I know deep
down that it's probably best to just stay dumb and ignorant. Whatever's out there in the forest, it can't hurt me if I stay well away.
I'll just never go into the forest again. Problem solved.
Part Six
RITA
I
Today
“Shannon said she had to get away for a while,” Glenda explains, taking a drag of her cigarette as we sit on a wall around the back of the diner. “She didn't really go into it, but she said she'd met someone at her new job and -”
“At the store?” I ask.
“Yeah, I think so. She'd got a new job working at that big BarraBuy place, and she said it was boring but I think she was just glad to be earning.” She pauses, with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It's weird, but after a while we stopped talking so much. I'd started spending more time with that Dave guy and I guess slowly your sister and I drifted apart. It really sucks, I wish it hadn't happened like that, but at the same time she seemed kinda different later on. There was this one night when we were out, when I met Dave, where I think she got kinda mad at me, and things were never really the same after that. She seemed more distant, like she was constantly distracted.” She takes another drag. “Didn't she mention any of that to you?”
“I just remember her going off to work each night,” I reply. “I've got a job there too now, I was hoping to...” My voice trails off for a moment as I realize that I don't quite know what I was hoping to achieve. If she was here now, Shannon would probably tease me for being some kind of wannabe Nancy Drew. “The very last time I saw Shannon,” I continue, “she was heading out the door of the trailer and she said she was going to work. She was supposed to be back the next morning around seven or eight, but she never showed. Mom's always too drunk to notice, so eventually I was the one who went to the police and... They just figured she'd gone off to start a new life. As soon as I mentioned I was from the trailer park, they didn't want to know.”
“She wouldn't have left you behind,” she replies. “She talked about you all the time.”
“But why are you pretending to be her?” I ask. “Why are you working under her name, with her I.D.?”
“She knew I needed to hide away from my Dave,” she explains, “and she's always been such a loyal friend. Of course, then she had to take my I.D. so she could get about. She said she had this big plan and that it'd all make sense eventually. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but I never heard from her again and to be honest I started to wonder if something had happened. I thought about contacting you and your Mom, but Shannon had already warned me never to do that and I didn't want to get in trouble for the I.D. thing so...” She pauses. “I guess I was still expecting her to walk through the door of the diner one day, with some crazy story about what she'd been doing.”
“It's been two years,” I point out, feeling a cold, shivering sense of fear rippling through my chest. “She wouldn't just vanish for two years. No-one would, not unless something bad had happened.”
I wait for her to reply, for her to tell me that I'm overreacting, but she just remains quiet and takes another drag on her cigarette.
“I don't know what to say to you, kid,” she mutters finally. “Shannon was a real good person, but right at the end I could tell she was involved in something... dark.”
“She must have told you more about it.”
She shakes her head.
“Then how do you know?”
She stares at me, and I can tell she's reluctant to say too much.
“I'm not a child,” I point out. “I'm old enough, I can handle it. I know there's bad stuff in the world.”
She sniffs. “Did you see her arms? Toward the end, I mean? It's like, in the weeks before she disappeared... Didn't you see?”
I shake my head.
Rolling up her sleeves, she indicates the flesh just above her elbows and all the way to her shoulders. “She had marks,” she continues. “Bruises, but more than that, it was like she'd been going through some real punishment. Her skin was all yellow and black and green in places, and it wasn't just her arms, either. It was her torso as well. I saw her waist once and she'd taken a real battering.”
“Someone was hitting her?”
“That's what I thought, but she swore it wasn't that. I begged her to tell me, I could see she was in pain, but she said it was none of my business. She promised it wasn't some kind of abuse, though. She said no-one was beating her or punishing her, she promised it was nothing like that. She just...”
I wait for her to finish. “She just what?”
She seems lost for words. “She just said it was a hazard of the job. When I asked if she meant her new job at the store, she kinda clammed up again, but I could tell there was something she was keeping from me, something big.” She pauses. “Your sister and I were best friends, Rita, from kindergarten all the way up to the day she vanished. We told each other everything, and I mean everything, and then right at the end she suddenly had this secret.” She pauses again, her eyes filled with concern. “She was scared, but it was more than that. She also seemed confident, and purposeful, and assured. Strong, almost. Like she'd finally got the future figured out.”
“Like a new job? Somewhere we could move to?”
“No idea. Like I said, it was just a feeling I got. Does that make sense?”
Taking a deep breath, I realize that it does and doesn't at the same time. “Shannon always said she could do anything,” I mutter finally. “She said any of us could do anything, so long as we put our minds to it.”
“She said that to me too,” Glenda replies with a faint, sad smile. “Always pushing me to be better than I was, you know?” She takes another drag. “I just hope she's... I mean, I hope that whatever she got involved with, she just had to hide away from it and keep low for a while. That's possible, right? She didn't want to get you or your Mom or me involved, so she ducked out and kept her head down, and some day when it's all blown over she'll come waltzing back with a big, stupid smile on her face.” She nods, as if she's managed to convince herself. “Yeah, that's what it'll be. She's got some kinda big plan, and it just sucks for us that we can't know about it yet.”
“Do you really believe that?” I ask.
She pauses, before forcing a smile. “I think it's really possible.”
“There must be something at the store,” I mutter, checking my phone and seeing that it's almost time to get the bus home. “It's the only thing that changed in her life during those final few months. Whatever happened to her, it started when she started working at that BarraBuy store.”
“Yeah, but how -”
“I'm going to find out what,” I continue. “Someone there must know something, someone must have seen her and realized something was happening.”
“I wish I could help you,” she replies, “but I can't risk... I mean, I don't mind my life right now. I don't wanna draw any attention to myself or go home, so can I ask you a big favor? Unless it's really necessary, unless you have to do it in order to find Shannon, please don't tell anyone you saw me today. I know they're looking for me, and maybe I'm being a selfish bitch but I can't handle going back into my old life.” She pauses, her hand trembling as she holds her cigarette. “Please, Rita.”
“I won't tell anyone,” I reply, getting to my feet. “I'm gonna find her, though. You're right, she's out there somewhere, she can't have just vanished into thin air. Someone knows something, and I'm gonna start by finding out what happened to her at the store.”
“Take care, kid. Watch out, in case...”
“In case what?”
“Shannon was smart,” she continues, “and she knew how to look after herself. If she got into a mess, that must mean something pretty damn dark was going on. I wouldn't like the same thing to happen to you.”
“It won't,” I reply. “Don't worry about me. I can look after myself.”
II
By the time I get back to the trailer park it's late, so late that most of the lights are
off and even the residents who sit around talking in the night air have gone to bed. I pick my way carefully along the winding path that leads to Mom's trailer, but after a moment I realize there's someone still awake and drinking up ahead.
My heart sinks as I see that it's Scottie, still sitting on the steps of his trailer. Does that man never have anything else to do?
“Well hello there, young Rita,” he says as I walk past. Even though it's pitch black out here, somehow I can tell he's smiling. “What've you been doing out so late?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. Damn it, I should have just ignored him.
“Lady of the night, huh?”
Sighing, I stop at Mom's trailer and pull the door open, immediately hearing her loud, drunken snores from inside. I swear, my skin crawls at the smell of stale beer and whiskey. I swear to God, Mom is getting messier and messier, and it wouldn't surprise me if she's left half her dinner piled up on a plate by the microwave.
“I think there's more to you than meets the eye,” Scottie continues. “Everyone else might see some meek little scrap of a girl, but I see something stronger, something more impressive. I think Rita Bone might just be tougher than she looks.”
I desperately want to get away from him, but at the same time the thought of going into the trailer is too much to stomach. Finally admitting defeat, I let the door swing shut before turning to him. I guess listening to him rabbiting on is marginally preferable to sitting in a cloud of stale smells and buzzing flies inside the trailer.
“You're always sitting out here, aren't you?” I say after a moment.
“I'm an observer of the world,” he replies. “I'm a very thoughtful kinda guy.”
“And you've been doing it for years.”
“You got a problem with that?”
Stepping toward him, I'm finally able to make out his wrinkled face and broad, gap-toothed smile. For the first time, it occurs to me that he might actually be able to help. “Do you remember my sister?”
“Remember her?” He laughs. “She was a sweet thing too. You know, one time she was getting changed behind your Momma's trailer and she didn't know anyone could see her, and I got a right good view of her -”
