by Rick Hautala
Leaning back against the wall, Manda covered her face with both hands and sobbed as she slid slowly down into a sitting position. Bending her knees and leaning her head forward, she started crying and kept crying as the apartment grew steadily darker with the descending night. And whenever the thought hit her that Muggins was gone—really gone!—she didn’t have the strength to scream as she stared into the deepening darkness that seeped like dense smoke the living room.
5
As it turned out, Rob did have too much to drink at Gritty’s, and Sheena ended up calling to say that she and Marty were taking him back to their place to sleep it off.
What the fuck difference does it make? Manda wondered after hanging up the phone. It wasn’t like he had a real job to go to in the morning. All he was doing with his time was writing and, judging by the scant pages she had read so far of his “novel in progress,“ he wasn’t doing much of that. In the morning, as she got ready for work, she kept one ear tuned toward the front door, hoping she would hear ole’ Muggins meowing to be let in after a night out on the town.
But he didn’t show up.
Tears filled Manda’s eyes as she eased the apartment door shut behind her and started down to the street to catch the bus for South Portland. She considered calling in sick, or at least showing up an hour or two late so she could look for her cat, but that might mean she’d lose her job. With Rob not pulling in his half of the rent, she couldn’t afford to lose her job, such as it was.
Things only got worse when she got to work and found the package from Swann House propped up on her desk. A Post-it note was stuck to the front which read—
“I TOLD YOU TO RETURN THIS!!! - Jason“
Manda crumpled up the note and dropped it onto the floor. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the package. One of the last things she had done yesterday was repackage the book, check to make sure the publisher’s address was correct, and send it out with the last mail pick-up.
And here it was, back on her desk the next day with the postage canceled and RETURN TO SENDER stamped in bright red letters on front and back.
She started to reach for the package but jerked her hand back, not quite daring to touch it. Leaning closer, she stared uncomprehendingly at the postmark.
How the hell could it have come back so fast?
It had gone out late yesterday afternoon, but here it was with a postmark canceled in Des Moines.
Still not daring to touch the package, Manda leaned close to it, her nostrils widening as she sniffed the air. She caught a faint whiff of...something. She wasn’t sure quite what. Maybe a hint of...
“Burned hair?“ she muttered, wincing as she pulled back quickly. Before she could catch her breath, the backroom door slammed open. She turned around quickly expecting to see Jason glowering at her, but it was only Jesse from the café, looking for a carton of napkins. Manda watched him, waiting until he got what he was after and left. Then she turned back to the package.
Her impulse was to toss it into the trash compactor behind the store. So what if the return credit never showed up? As long as the thing was out of her life forever.
Like Muggins, she thought as a chill teased between her shoulder blades. Out of my life...forever...like he’d never even existed.
Manda knew that, one way or another, she had to get rid of the book before Jason saw it. She could just imagine his reaction.
“Wait a second,“ she whispered, snapping her fingers and nodding as a thought took shape. “That’s it. Jason’s doing this. He took the package out of the out-going mail and put it back here just to mess with my mind. That has to be it!“
She was tempted all the more to toss the book into the trash just to be rid of it, but then a better idea struck her.
If Jason was screwing with her mind, why not screw back?
Grabbing a box cutter from her desk, she sliced open the back of the envelope. The new blade cut quickly and cleanly through the padded stuffing, exposing the black cover of the book. For a second or two, Manda didn’t even notice that the blade had also sliced into her hand, on her wrist just above the heel of her thumb. It wasn’t until a large, red drop of blood landed with an audible plop on the back of the book that she cried out in pain and surprise.
“Mother-fucker!“ she screamed as she reached for a tissue from the desk dispenser and pressed the wad against the fresh gash. Dull, stinging pain spread like poison up her wrist and down into her fingers, bringing tears to her eyes. Within seconds, the tissue was saturated with blood. She grabbed another one to staunch the flow, then blotted the tears that were streaming down her face. After a moment, once she had regained her composure, she lifted the wad of tissues and inspected the wound.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as it felt, but she thought she must have sliced open a vein because the blood was flowing so freely.
“Son of a bitch,“ Manda muttered as she leaned back against the table and pressed the tissue hard against her wrist. She could feel her pulse, throbbing in her hand, and she wondered about the possibility of infection. After a minute or two, she peeled back the tissue, glad to see that the blood flow had finally slowed if not stopped entirely. She heaved a sigh of relief, turned, and looked down at the package on the table.
The returned book was lying title side up. Manda couldn’t tear her eyes away from the fake-leather cover. The textured black surface caught the overhead lighting just right, making it swirl with an inward-turning whirlpool of light that was flecked with deep, rich red intermingled with dense, light-less black.
Reaching blindly behind her, Manda took down a new padded book mailer. All the while, the black book cover held her gaze. The longer she stared at it, the more she could feel herself being pulled into it. The subtle interplay of light and shadows, of black and deep, clotted red danced across the cover like the wind-ruffled surface of a pond at twilight. It looked amazingly three-dimensional. Waves of vertigo swept through her. She felt herself falling forward as she leaned closer and stared, gape-mouthed, into the rippling black surface. She was only vaguely aware of the crazy thought that—somehow—she could see into or through the book into …
—What?
She snapped back to reality when the backroom door burst open, and Chris and Cindy, two co-workers, entered, engaged in an animated conversation. Manda turned her back to them so they wouldn’t see her tear-stained eyes.
“Yo, Manda,“ Chris called out. “You still planning to come tonight?“
“Tonight...?“ Manda asked, still not turning around and busying herself with the new padded envelope. In spite of the cut on her wrist, she wanted to do what she had thought of.
“Billy’s gig. At Free Street Taverna. It’s tonight. Remember?“
“Oh, yeah...Sure,“ she replied, nodding automatically. She had forgotten all about Billy’s gig and was totally focused on getting Psychic Black Holes sealed up and addressed to Jason Aceto’s home.
“That’ll show the lousy son of a bitch!“ she muttered.
“You say something?“ Chris asked.
“Huh? Oh, no. Nothing.“ Amanda shook her head. “Just talking to myself.“
6
“Rob...?“
The air in the apartment sounded curiously muffled as Manda closed the door behind her, making sure to lock the deadbolt and the security chain.
The silence within absorbed both her voice and the sound of her footsteps as she kicked her shoes off. No lights were on. Only the soft, blue glow of the streetlight outside their building filtered through the unwashed windows, casting a powdery haze over everything.
Is Rob even home? She wondered, stepping into the living room. Maybe he actually got some writing done today and is in the bedroom, taking a nap.
Manda’s hand brushed over the wall switch. The sudden glare of light stung her eyes. Unconsciously, she felt the bulge of the bandage that covered the cut on her left wrist.
“Robbie...?“ she called out, louder now, as if defying the darkness to stifle
her voice. She walked boldly to the bedroom door, swung it open, and snapped on the light.
The bed was empty, undisturbed, just the way she had left it that morning. She knew Rob well enough to know that he would never have remade the bed if he had come home any time during the day. Chances were, he was still at Marty and Sheena’s, sleeping it off.
Manda listened to the hungry grumble of her stomach and decided to eat something before she called Marty and Sheena and told Rob to come home. Billy’s gig didn’t start until 9:30, but she wanted to get there early enough so she could hang out. After the last few days at work, she needed some serious R&R. Tomorrow was the last day of her workweek, and on Monday, she and Rob were planning to go kayaking with some friends on Sebago Lake.
Her bare feet whispered on the threadbare rug as she walked from the bedroom into the kitchen. Along the way, she snapped on every light she could reach. She wasn’t sure why. Rob always left lights on, and she always complained about it because she had to work to pay the bills while he just hung around the apartment, pretending to be working on his novel.
Tonight, for some reason, she wanted to feel safer, and leaving as many lights on as possible seemed to help.
A little, anyway.
She entered the kitchen and hesitated, glancing over her shoulder to where Muggins’ litter box used to be—should have been—in the living room. She still had no idea what was going on with that whole situation, and she was anxious to find Rob so she could ask him about it.
Why had he acted like she was crazy or something, thinking she had a cat?
Of course she had a cat!
She’d had Muggins long before she and Rob met and moved in together. So what was this bullshit about her not having a cat? And why was Muggins’ litter box missing? Was Rob messing with her mind the same way Jason was?
Manda tried to ignore the waves of paranoia that swept over her, but she couldn’t.
Maybe that was it.
Maybe Rob and Jason were in on this together, trying to make her go crazy or something.
But why?
Rob barely knew Jason, and the few times they had been together, they hadn’t exactly hit it off, probably because Jason had made it so obvious that he wanted to sleep with her.
Manda heaved a heavy sigh as she opened the refrigerator and inspected her prospects for at least a half-decent meal. They weren’t very good. A wave of helplessness swept over her when she stared at the bottom shelf and—still—didn’t see the half-full can of cat food she knew, she just knew was supposed to be there.
“Fuck it,“ she whispered as she eased the ’fridge door shut and turned around. Her voice sounded oddly strained in the eerie quiet of the building. For the first time in a long time, she wished Rob was here with her. Usually, she didn’t always appreciate him hanging around, but tonight, for some reason, she really wished he were home.
Fighting back the undefined fear that trembled in her gut, she walked into the living room and picked up the cordless phone. After dialing Marty and Sheena’s number from memory, she waited as the phone rang on the other end once...
Twice...
“Damn,“ she muttered when it rang a third time, and she cleared her throat, preparing to leave a message. Just before the fourth ring, Sheena’s sleepy-sounding voice answered, “Yeah?“
Manda’s first thought was that she had interrupted her and Marty making love.
“Yeah, uh, hi. It’s me,“ she said simply.
“Manda. Hey. How’s it going? Long time no hear.“
“Okay, I guess,“ Manda said, a bit mystified. “I was just wondering if Rob was still at your place or if you know where he was.“
After a tense moment of silence at the other end of the line, Sheena cleared her throat and said, “Rob?“
“Yeah. Last night you called and said he was gonna crash at your place. I was just wondering if he’d left and where he might’ve gone, ’cause he’s not here.“
There was another, longer silence at the other end of the line. Manda could feel her face flushing. Her pulse started beating fast and feathery in her neck.
“There’s nothing here to eat, so I was heading down to Free Street before Billy’s gig to get something, and I was hoping to catch him to tell him to meet me there.“
“Ahh... Manda... Have you been drinking or something?“ Sheena asked.
It was impossible to miss the concern in her friend’s voice.
“What are you talking about? No, I—of course I haven’t been drinking.“
Manda let hers shoulders drop and exhaled sharply, hoping to relieve the tension that was building up inside her.
“Look,“ she said, fighting to remain calm. “Just tell me if you know where Rob is, okay? I want to hook up with him so he won’t have to come all the way back here before going down to Free Street.“
“Manda. The only other person I know named Rob is my cousin who lives in Pennsylvania,“ Sheena finally said. “If you mean that guy you were dating, he died two years ago in a car accident. You don’t remember?“
“What are you talking about?“ Manda said, almost choking as the air rushed out of her lungs. “My boyfriend—Rob... Rob Stone. You and Marty went out drinking with him last night. You called to tell me he was staying at your place. I just need to—“
“Whoa, girl. Get a grip, why don’t ’cha,“ Sheena said. “I don’t know what you’re on, but you’d better watch it. You don’t sound so good.“
“No. No, I’m not good!“ Manda shrilled as tiny ice-cold fingertips clawed at the inside of her throat. “I most definitely am not good. Not if you’re gonna fuck with me, too!“
“I’m not fucking with you, Manda. Honest.“
Sheena’s voice remained low and calm, but it did nothing to stop the rush of fear inside Manda. A hot pressure blossomed behind her eyes as she glanced around the apartment. Outside, the evening sky had darkened, taking on a curious depth of black. Her legs felt as stiff as sticks as she walked over to the window and stared up at the night sky above the city. Darkness shifted against deeper darkness, like a living thing. High above the city, a curious cloud formation swirled as though driven by a harsh wind. At first, it was almost impossible to see, but the longer Manda stared at it, the clearer she could make out a cloud that had taken on an odd, three-dimensional effect. A huge spiral turned and shifted in upon itself, swallowing itself and the surrounding blackness into an ever-deepening blackness. Within the spiral arms of the cloud, elongated flecks of dark red twisted and merged like thick clots of blood. They melted together, separated, and merged again as they were sucked into the spinning vortex.
Manda was transfixed. The telephone dropped from her nerveless hand to the floor. She didn’t hear it hit, and she was only distantly aware of Sheena’s high-pitched voice, twisted with worry and fear, calling out to her so loudly it rattled the tiny speaker in the handset.
7
“God damn, it figures,“ Jason Aceto muttered as he glanced around at the morning crew, gathered in the break room for the opening store meeting.
“What figures?“ asked Craig, the assistant manager.
“Manda’s late...as usual,“ Jason said, shielding his mouth with his clipboard as he spoke. “Fifth time this month. She probably won’t call, either.“ He made brief eye contact with Craig and smirked. “So I guess that’s it for her. Company policy is company policy. Nothing I can do about it. I’m gonna have to fire her ass...if I ever see her again.“
Craig glanced at him, stone-faced, not revealing his own thoughts. Jason either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention and began the meeting. After he ran through the morning announcements and the news from the home office, Billy hurried off to the front desk and popped a Beatles CD into the music system, and everyone else got to work.
Jason went into his office, closed the door, and plunked down in his chair. Staring past his computer at the wall in front of him, he sat there drumming his fingers on the c
hair arms and seething with rage that Manda hadn’t bothered to call in before she didn’t show up. After all the times cut her slack and gone to bat for her when he knew he should have fired her.
But this was it.
He had to follow store policy.
As much as he wanted to be rid of her, though, he also didn’t want to be rid of her. He still harbored what he knew, deep down, was a futile hope that—given time—Manda would realize how much better for her he would be than that poseur writer she was living with. Jason had a mountain of e-mails and paperwork to go through today, but he pushed back from his desk, stood up, and went out to the café to grab a cup of coffee.
The workday passed slowly for him because he couldn’t stop thinking about Manda. By noon, he was toying with the idea of calling her apartment to see if she was all right, if nothing else. She could be sick or hurt. Maybe if she was in some kind of trouble, helping her out would be a way to get into her good graces.
But the day’s responsibilities kept piling up, and his workday ended without him finishing even half of what he’d hoped to finish. With a bitter feeling of remorse and resentment, he left the store a little after five o’clock, got into his car, and headed to Manda’s apartment on Congress Street.
By the time he pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment building, daylight was bleeding from the sky. Narrow rafts of clouds spread across the western horizon like purple-stained fingers that were trying to tear through the thin fabric of the sky. Pinpricks of starlight appeared overhead, barely visible through the glare of city lights.
For more than five minutes, Jason just sat hunched over his steering wheel, peering up at the darkened windows of Manda’s apartment. Several times, he thought he glimpsed a hint of motion—something dark and indefinable—moving behind the glassy reflection; but when he strained to see if it was Manda, he realized it was only the reflection of the clouds, shifting across the window.
