by Amy Cross
“You're disgusting.”
He smiles. “I'm just saying I enjoyed the moment.”
“I don't need to know that,” I say firmly. I hate the idea of asking for anything from a guy like Scottie, but at the same time I guess I can't leave any stone unturned, even if I'm worried about finding some pretty foul things underneath. “Did you ever see her coming back from work?” I ask cautiously. “Before she disappeared, I mean. She used to come home probably around seven or eight in the morning?”
“What's it to you?”
“I just need to know.”
“How long's she been gone now?”
“Just answer the f...” I take a deep breath. “Answer the question. Please.”
He pauses. “Yeah, I spied her a few times. Always looked tired, like she was dragging herself along. I invited her into my place a few times, but she never took me up on that very kind offer.”
“Did you ever notice anything unusual?”
“I noticed a bright girl living in a dump like this, despite a great deal of potential in her soul.” He stares at me for a moment. “I'm noticing the same thing right now.”
“Did you ever talk to her?”
“I tried,” he continues, “but to tell the truth, I always thought she was a little... caught within herself. Like she didn't wanna talk to someone like me. I don't really blame her, I know I don't smell as good as I could and my conversations tend to be repetitive, but would it really hurt people to at least acknowledge my existence from time to time?”
He reaches out to grab my hand, but I take a step back.
“She had those eyes, you know?” he continues with a smile. “It was like she was always deep in thought, like she was thinking about stuff. Even when she was talking to someone, she seemed to be not really paying attention, like her mind was on other matters.”
I nod, realizing that he's right. Especially toward the end, she seemed to have other things to deal with.
“You've been wearing the same t-shirt lately,” he continues. “That orange one, from that fancy store down the road?”
“There's nothing fancy about it,” I mutter.
“I saw you wearing it last night. Got a job there?”
“Night shifts.”
“I applied there once,” he continues. “Never heard back. Do you think you could put in a good word?”
“Did Shannon ever say anything to you about the store?” I ask, ignoring his request. “Like, about what was going on there?”
He shakes his head.
“Okay, but...” I pause for a moment, before realizing that this is dumb. I'm just clutching at straws. “Thanks anyway,” I mutter, turning and heading over toward Mom's trailer. I guess it's finally time to go to bed, even if the place stinks.
“Everyone knows about that store, though,” he adds.
Stopping for a moment, I turn back to him. “Knows what about it?”
He smiles as he takes another sip from his beer can. “Well, on account of where it's located.”
“What about where it's located?”
He laughs. “The forest, dummy. The store backs onto it, right?”
“So?”
“So haven't you heard the stories about that forest?”
I take a step back toward him. “What kind of stories?”
He pauses, before taking another, longer sip of beer and then letting out a loud burp. “There's something that lives in that forest,” he says after a moment. “You can call it what you want, you can come up with any kinda story to describe it or give it a name, but one thing you can't do is deny that it exists.” He looks toward the trees at the edge of the trailer park. “There it is,” he continues, “and it stretches for miles and miles. Did no-one ever warn you when you were a kid? Did no-one tell you to keep the hell out of that forest?”
“Sure,” I reply, “but... I mean, people say dumb stuff all the time.”
He turns back to me. “I've been out there once or twice alone at night, and I wouldn't do it again for all the money in the world. I swear, something lives there, something that watches people. Why it never bothered me, I don't know, but I'm not the only person who knows it's out there. Most folk don't like talking about it, I think they're scared it'll take offense. They just kinda ignore it and hope it never affects them. I reckon there's no danger on the edge, like here at the park, but the further you get into the darkness between the trees, the more likely you are to get this feeling like you're being watched, and then...” He pauses. “Some people even reckon they've seen it out there, keeping tabs on them.”
I look toward the forest for a moment, and I can't deny that something about the vast dark space fills me with dread. Even as a little girl, I knew not to go too far in there, and Shannon was the same.
“That BarraBuy store might look like it's on the edge of the forest,” Scottie continues, “but actually it's a little deeper than that.”
I turn to him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that when the place was built, the developers made a very foolish mistake. They chopped down about an acre's worth of trees to make space for the store and the parking lot. So technically, even though the treeline stops next to the store, the building itself is on forest land. If you ask me, that's why the place has such a strange vibe, especially at night. Things that are normally restricted to the forest... Well, they can leak out into the store. Obviously they're much weaker in the store, but they still linger.”
Staring at him, I realize that he's just trying to spook me.
“Okay, Scottie,” I say finally, taking a step back. “Thanks for the story. Good night.”
“How do you get to work?” he asks.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“You said you've got a night job at the store, right? How do you get there and back?”
“I walk,” I tell him. “I can't afford the bus.”
He laughs. “You're as piss-poor as the rest of us, huh?”
“Good night, Scottie.”
“And do you take the main road?”
“It's not so bad,” I continue, not really sure what he's getting at. “There's not much traffic out there.”
“Your sister took the main road at first,” he replies, “but then after she'd been working there for a few weeks, she started taking a short-cut.”
I feel a shiver in my chest. “What kind of short-cut?”
He turns and looks toward the forest. “I told her not to do it. I told her even though it took twice as long to follow the road around, she shouldn't try to save time by walking through the forest to get to the store. She didn't listen to me, though. I used to sit here and see her come tramping out from between the trees in her orange BarraBuy t-shirt, and...” He pauses, and for the first time that infernal grin leaves his face, as if he's remembering something dark. “She never admitted anything to me, but I could see in her eyes that she was seeing something out in the forest every night when she walked through on her way to work, and again on her way home. And then one day I heard you guys talking, and I realized she hadn't come home. I told the cops, but they didn't listen. Damn near broke my heart, though, to think of her out there all alone.”
“So you think...” I take a deep breath, still trying to convince myself that he's just yanking my chain. “There's nothing bad out there in the forest. If there was, someone would have done something about it by now.”
“Tell yourself that if it helps,” he replies. “Just keep taking that road around when you go to work, though. Don't do what your sister did. Don't take a short-cut through the forest.” He takes a sip of beer. “Like it or not, that's what she started doing. Just a few weeks before she vanished into thin air.”
***
A few minutes later, as I curl up in my makeshift bed next to the kitchen table, I glance over at the picture of Shannon that I've kept taped to the wall ever since the day she disappeared. She's smiling in the photo and she looks happy, which is how I remember her. It's hard to believ
e that just a few weeks after that photo was taken, she walked out of here and never came back.
As Mom continues to snore at the other end of the trailer, I stuff pieces of toilet roll into my ears in an attempt to get to sleep. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the window and see the shadows of trees falling across the glass. Was Scottie right? Did Shannon really start taking a short-cut through the forest on her way to and from work? And if she did, is there a chance that something happened to her out there one night?
I tell myself I'm overreacting, that I'm being stupid, but deep down I can't help myself. At the back of my mind, I'm already starting to wonder if she might still be in there.
Within a few minutes, I'm finally asleep. It doesn't take long before my dreams take me back, yet again, to the moment when I found Dad on the floor.
III
“You should ask them,” Mom says the next day, her voice already slurred after a few after-dinner beers. “They'll give you a discount, they always give discounts to people who work there.”
“I'm really not sure,” I mutter, standing in the trailer's bathroom as I brush crumbs off my orange BarraBuy t-shirt. “I'll find out tonight, though.”
“If they don't give a discount,” she whines, “tell 'em they should start. Tell 'em it's a law or something. In fact, I think maybe it is a law. If you employ someone, you have to give them a staff discount.”
“I don't think that's true,” I reply, “but I'll definitely ask.” Checking my phone, I realize that I'm running late. I hurry out and grab my bag, before slipping into my shoes and heading out the door. “See you in the morning!”
“And see if the discount works for beer!” she calls after me. “Rita? Did you hear me?”
When I get outside, for once Scottie isn't on the steps of his trailer. I glance toward the forest for a moment, daring myself to head out there, before realizing that I'm not quite ready to do something like that. For one thing, I keep telling myself that Scottie was full of crap anyway, and for another... I don't want to admit that I'm scared, but the thought of walking alone through the forest at night makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head toward the road.
***
“There's one thing you really need to understand about Harvey,” Joe says as he pulls a mop and bucket out of the closet in the staff room. “One really big, important, clear thing that you need to keep in mind at all times.”
“What's that?” I ask, taking the mop from him.
“He's full of shit.”
“He said -”
“Oh, I bet he said a lot of things,” he continues with a smile. “I remember my first night working here, he filled my head with so much garbage, I was terrified to even head out into the aisles by myself. Harvey can talk all night if you let him, and the guy comes up with the most fantastical garbage. I guess it's a skill, in a way, but he doesn't use it for anything good.” He pushes the closet door shut. “Let me guess. He told you the place is haunted, am I right?”
“Not in so many words...”
“But he hinted at it. That's how he gets into your head, he never flat-out starts making ridiculous claims, 'cause he knows people'd just write him off as the local weirdo. Instead, he plants the seed in your mind and makes you start wondering for yourself. It'd actually be pretty clever, if he wasn't such a goddamn freak. Oh, and they never proved it, but management's convinced he's the one who hid a camera in the ladies bathroom last year.” Heading to the sink, he pours some soap into the bucket before starting to fill it with hot water. “Don't worry, everyone gets pranked by Harvey when they start, but you'll learn to ignore him pretty fast. If you end up working here as long as me, you'll be able to pretty much filter him out altogether.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
“How long do you think?”
“I...” Pausing, I realize that he doesn't look any older than me. “A few months?”
He laughs. “Almost two years. I started when I was seventeen. I think, anyway. Ever noticed how hard it can be to keep track of stuff like that around here?”
“So did you know my sister?” I ask. “Her name's Shannon, she worked here for a while about two years ago.”
“Shannon?” He frowns. “Name doesn't ring a bell, but turnover here is pretty high, we get people coming in and out all the time.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and bring up a photo of Shannon. As soon as I hold it out for him to see, I feel a flash of hope in my chest.
“You knew her, right?” I continue.
“I...” He pauses, before shaking his head. “I'm not sure. Like I said, a lot of people come and go around here.”
“Just take a look for a moment,” I tell him. I swear to God, I'm at the stage now where hope is painful. “I know she worked here for a while, and she had night shifts four or five times a week. You must have bumped into her at some point.”
He stares at the image, but I can already tell that he doesn't recognize her.
“Yeah,” he says finally, “maybe. Two years is a long time, you know? But she looks familiar. Yeah, I think she was this kinda quiet girl who didn't really say much to anyone. Good worker, but she didn't mix with the rest of us. She used to just come in, get on with the job, and then leave at the end of her shift without saying much. I remember there was, like, a staff Christmas party and she didn't show up. I don't think she really talked to many people.”
“So she didn't make any friends here?”
“Not that I'm aware of.” He pauses. “Why?”
“I haven't seen her for two years,” I continue, slipping my phone back into my pocket. The flash of hope has died down now. “She vanished one night, and I haven't been able to track her down.”
“Did you go to the cops?”
“They weren't interested,” I tell him. “As soon as they found out that we live at the...” I catch myself just in time. “Well, they just said she must have run away from home. I made them take down a report, but I know they haven't bothered looking into it very much.”
“That sucks,” he mutters. “You can ask around, but I don't think anyone'll be able to tell you anything more. I remember...” He glances toward the table in the center of the room. “I remember a few times, a bunch of us would be talking and messing around, and your sister would just, like, sit and eat and then go back out to the shop floor. We tried to get her to join in a few times, but it was pretty clear she wasn't interested. I'm not saying she was rude or anything like that, just that she was one of those people who keep themselves a little closed off.”
“She was just trying to earn enough money to get us out of here,” I tell him.
“I remember when she stopped showing up,” he continues. “A few of us asked about her but no-one really checked into it very much. People tend to just stop coming to work sometimes and the bosses don't have time to go chasing them up, they just get on with finding replacements. I know that sounds harsh, but it's just the way things work at BarraBuy.” He pauses again. “Sorry to hear she's missing, though. Shit, I just assumed she'd gone on to something bigger and better.”
“That's what I'm hoping,” I mutter, “but if -”
“Come on,” he adds, grabbing the bucket and heading to the door. “We've got work to do. Without us, how are the people of this town ever gonna buy useless plastic crap that'll break after five minutes?”
***
I never knew there were so many different types of washing powder. Seriously, this store stocks something like thirty different brands, and each brand has multiple lines, and to be honest after a couple of hours arranging this stuff I actually start to switch off. It's as if my brain is on power-saving mode, although I still can't help thinking about Shannon. If I don't find a lead while I'm working at the store, what's my next approach?
After a few more minutes, I become aware of a customer nearby. I don't immediately turn to him, since I've found that sometimes people just lik
e to be left alone, but gradually he seems to be edging closer and I start to realize that he wants something.
“Hey,” I say, forcing a smile as I turn to him. “Can I help you?”
“I...” He stares at me, with a hint of genuine confusion in his eyes. He's some late-middle-aged guy dressed all in beige and brown, and he looks kind of gaunt, maybe even ill. And pale. Very, very pale. “I just...”
I wait for him to finish, but it's already clear that this guy is a rare bear.
“I'm new here,” I tell him finally, “but if you're looking for something specific, I can help you to find it.” Again I wait for him to reply, but again he just stares at me. “Well, it was just an offer,” I add. “Let me know.”
Getting back to work, I keep watching the guy out of the corner of my eye, and I can't help feeling a little creeped out when he starts coming a little closer. I swallow hard, reminding myself that the customer is always right and that I have to be polite, but this man is seriously setting off a few alarms in the back of my head.
“I'm sorry,” he says finally, his voice already sounding a little weaker, “I... I don't mean to disturb you.”
“That's okay,” I reply. “Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?”
“Well, I... You've never seen me here before, have you?”
Turning to him, I can't help feeling that he seems very earnest, as if something is really troubling him. After a moment, I realize that under the store's bright lights, he seems to be sweating a lot. “I'm sorry?”
“Me,” he continues. “Here. You've never... I was just wondering if...” His voice trails off and he seems a little breathless.
“I'm sorry, Sir,” I reply, “but this is only my second night in the job, so I really don't... I don't think I could have seen you before.”
“Your second night?”
“Are you after anything in particular?” I ask.
