by Jay Nadal
Sam—her husband, who wrote for the Castleford Times—could also pick and choose his hours. It wasn’t like his ninety-seven readers were itching for the latest gossip in town. The older townsfolk took care of that. However, Sam still managed to pick up the occasional newsworthy piece, like the dispute over the guinea hens that crossed a road to get to the other side and forage for food. This wouldn’t seem like front-page news, but a ruckus arose over the responsibility for the noise and damage they caused. His piece about the town taking part possession of a new twelve-seater transport van had been well received. Castleford now co-owned the vehicle with a neighboring town to help seniors attend programs at the senior center, go on shopping trips, and see a doctor. Hardly earth-shattering world news, but it was news nevertheless and Sam loved it.
Snapping from her trance, Lori shifted her weight to the other foot and assessed the line ahead of her. There were only three people in front, but with Sam waiting impatiently in the car outside, she had to make this quick. This meant steering clear of Betty Walker, the kindest and sweetest old lady you’d ever met, but the one person in town who knew everything and everyone. Worse yet, she was stood only a few paces in front.
Lori shied away, glancing toward the window to hide her face from view. If she could only make it to the counter, she could pay for her snacks and get out of there. Now, as one person took their change and left the store, she was closer than ever. The line shortened and she shuffled forward, praying Betty wouldn’t see her. The old, dusty hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet like arthritic joints. The surface was pitted, each mark the start of a story that would never be told. It had been the silent witness to so much life in this nineteenth-century New England town, the good and bad. Lori winced as she shuffled from one foot to another, desperate to avoid drawing attention to herself.
“Is that you, Lori?”
Lori’s muscles stiffened at the shrill voice, and she turned to see a short, hunched figure with gray ringlets and kind eyes. Misleading eyes. She had her arms folded, grocery products resting in the grooves between them. “Hey, Betty. Why didn’t you grab a basket?”
“I didn’t expect to buy so much. Help me out, won’t you, dear?”
Lori sighed and placed her own shopping on a nearby shelf, wincing as her back tightened.
“Let me get that for you,” she said, rushing to take the cans and bottles from Betty’s arms. “If you needed help, you only had to say. There are plenty of people here who won’t hesitate to carry stuff for you.”
Betty waved a hand, dismissing the idea. “I’m still up and able. Unlike Norma Durham. Did you hear? She hasn’t left her house in days, and her doctor says she’s under the weather. Waterworks apparently. And as for Barbs Newell, well, I don’t want to say anything, but sciatica is making her wobble all over the place. She’s like Jell-O on a plate.”
Lori nodded, glancing to the front of the line where the next customer grabbed his brown paper bags and left. With the wait shortening by the second and Betty surrendering personal details by her side, Lori couldn’t wait to escape.
“And at her age?” Betty continued. “You would think she—”
“No offense, but I don’t want to hear it.”
Betty’s mouth hung open, her eyes turning a blank, dark hue. It was the face of a confused, insulted woman who’d heard something shocking—frozen, turning only at the sound of the horn blaring from Sam’s Mercedes.
“Sorry,” Lori said, her heartbeat doubling with eagerness to leave. “I just don’t think it’s nice to spread so much gossip about other people. That’s not to say we can’t be friends; I just think Norma’s business should remain Norma’s business. And Barb’s for that matter.”
“I see.”
The horn blared again. Lori pictured Sam leaning on it, with all one hundred sixty pounds of his athletic body. There was nothing that guy loved more than a sandwich, and while Lori held all the ingredients, he would only grow less patient.
“Next,” the shopkeeper called.
Betty nodded, studying the groceries in Lori’s hands like she wanted them back.
Feeling a pang of guilt for depriving the poor woman of the only thing she loved, Lori took them to the counter. “Here, let me get these. How about we catch up next week, and you can tell me all about Norma… and Barbs?”
Betty’s eyes lit up in a flash as she beamed. “Oh, that would be lovely. There’s so much to tell. Not just about Norma but that Oliver Barnes, too. Did you know he’s found himself a new girlfriend? Who would have thought it would be so soon?”
Lori bit her tongue while paying no mind to further tales of the townsfolk and reached to pack Betty’s bags. By the time they were done and Lori paid for her own groceries, thirty minutes had passed and she returned to the car only to see Sam rushing out.
“Took your time,” he said, the fall breeze blowing his perfectly trimmed dark-brown hair. “I thought I was going to die of old age.”
Lori sighed. “Betty Walker.”
“Ah.” Sam nodded his head, took her bags, and stowed them in the trunk.
There was a lot Lori appreciated about her husband, but above all was his ability to see things from her point of view. Any other man—at least by her experience—would’ve continued to sulk about her taking so long. But not Sam. Sam knew Betty Walker was known as Betty Talker, and probably felt sorry for Lori if nothing else.
“Get in,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her cheek before opening her door.
Lori smiled. Life was good. A gorgeous, caring, and loving husband. A new life in the country and the hope of soon starting a family. She’d seen how he was with his niece, lowering his own mental age in order to have fun with a six-year-old, and that was the moment Lori knew how much she loved him. It was like he was telling her—in his own subtle way—he was ready for a child of his own.
“Today, sweetheart,” Sam teased, waving toward the car door he held open.
“Yes, sir.”
Lori lowered herself into the passenger seat and adjusted herself while Sam made his way around the Mercedes. Moments later, they were cruising down the vacant street, which was the only nonresidential street in town. Save for the closed-down sawmill at the bottom of the valley and a couple of warehouses on the edge of town, this was the only place a resident of Castleford could buy anything. Lori watched the redbrick buildings pass by the window as hot air whispered from the vents. The town was taking on a beautiful blend of oranges and yellows as October approached, fallen leaves gliding to the wet ground under every tree. It was her favorite time of year, and Lori pressed the button to roll down her window, letting the crisp fall air caress her cheeks.
“Do you really want to sit outside?” Sam asked.
“That’s the idea of a picnic,” Lori said.
“And God knows I love a sandwich. But in this weather? On the wet grass?”
“That’s what the blanket’s for.”
“Right.” Sam nodded, smiling, with his gaze fixed on the road.
“You sound like you don’t want to go.”
“Me? Hey, I love you and will do anything to make you happy. If that means sitting in a field while it rains and eating a soggy sandwich, so be it. The second I put that ring on your finger, I promised to provide. If that means we dine al fresco, we’ll dine al fresco.”
Lori felt the grin creep onto her face as she turned back toward the window. There was no denying she’d found herself a keeper, and as the breeze passed through her hair and blew stray wisps over her ears, she realized she could never be happier.
Moments later, as the last of the street’s buildings passed by, they stopped at one of the only traffic lights in town. They waited in silence, not another person or car in sight, and basked in the luxury of living the quiet life they’d always dreamed of.
“Do you ever miss New York?” Sam asked, as if he’d read her mind.
“Not really. I miss the fact there isn’t more than one coffee shop, but it doesn’t compar
e to life out here. The hiking routes and the wildlife. Even the people are inherently good. How about you?”
“Not at all. I have everything I need right—”
The startling roar of a car engine interrupted Sam’s reply. Lori checked her side mirror to see only a dark shadow and black metal. Her heart dropped into her stomach as the vehicle came into view, stopping beside their Mercedes. The windows were tinted black, the engine grumbling like a beast from the underworld. Lori had seen these in the video games Sam used to play—a Dodge RAM 1500, if she remembered right. Amid the growl of the machine and the blasts spitting from the exhaust, Lori only had one pure thought: these huge vehicles were far more intimidating in real life.
“Roll your window up, babe,” Sam said, leaning down to see the driver.
Lori didn’t hesitate. The glass rose from the door and muffled the sound of the Dodge.
“Wonder what brings this jackass into town.”
“Just passing through, I hope.” Lori controlled her breathing, sucking in large breaths of air and blowing them out in steady puffs. The sheer size of the car beside them reminded her of something deadly, though she couldn’t quite place it. She glanced toward the traffic light, praying for it to finally turn green. Before she knew it, her gaze was drawn back to the blacked-out windows, and as she turned, the driver-side window rolled down.
The driver was not the butch, lumberjack-looking cowboy she’d expected, but a gaunt, unshaven, weasel-like man with a shit-eating grin, stained teeth, and dark circles around his eyes. Those same eyes stared at her like they knew her deepest, darkest secrets—like they knew something even she didn’t. Lori felt her grip tighten on the armrest, the other hand on her knee as she stared back, gawking at the man.
“What’s his problem?” she asked, looking away.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s staring at us.”
Sam leaned in again, looking up at the driver. His face grew scarlet as he pointed at the road and yelled, “Get out of here!”
The engine revved, roaring like a bear, but Lori didn’t look. She couldn’t.
Purring like a tiger, the car rolled out and took a left. The shadow inched off them as their mysterious stranger left the scene, returning the town to its usual balance of peace and tranquility. Lori glanced up to see the lights were green and pointed it out to Sam.
Sam sat back in his seat, adjusted his mirror, and pushed his foot onto the pedal.
“What was all that about?” Lori asked, her pulse returning to its steady rate.
“I’ve got no idea,” he said, picking up speed in the Mercedes as they passed a sign that read “YOU ARE LEAVING CASTLEFORD. PLEASE COME BACK SOON!”
Lori kept checking her mirror, expecting to see the same vehicle return and hoping to spot it before it got close. There was something unsettling about the Dodge, but more so about the disturbing middle-aged man driving it. “That guy gave me the creeps.”
“Me too,” Sam said, his eyes still on the road ahead. “Me too.”
Chapter 2
They were on the outskirts of town, with Castleford behind them and nothing but a long, empty road ahead. Forests surrounded them on either side, shielding the tarmac from the sun and bathing the road in shadows that danced around them. Lori thought it was eerie, in a peaceful kind of way. The landscape felt untouched by human hands. Centuries old, a green dense blanket covered the land as far as the eye could see.
On many occasions, she hadn’t worn shoes in the forest. She knew there were bugs and sharp sticks, but something inside her needed the feel of the earth between her toes. She loved to touch the rough bark and break leaves in her hands to smell them. Ignoring time, she’d walk for ages and stop to look up at the leaves, which were glowing as the light passed through them.
She sighed in comfort and questioned why they’d never thought about leaving the Big Apple earlier. The grime, pollution, traffic, and people racing around at speed like robots on autopilot. Lori and Sam had been the same. New York life had been frenetic, a wild roller coaster with no start and definitely no end. Their lives had been a mixture of moments stolen for a quick coffee and bagel, rapid-fire texts, and a once-a-week date night. How life had changed, she mused, as her eyes tracked the landscape as it sailed by.
“At least we came out here good and early,” Sam said.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Lori told him, but really she’d been thinking about the Dodge RAM and how deadly it looked with the sun bouncing off its shiny steel. Of their own volition, her eyes kept flicking to the mirror, as if they were expecting the truck to come back.
“You can relax,” Sam said. “Vehicles like that swing through here from time to time. It’s just a smoother ride through to the next town, so folks tend to make use of that shortcut.”
“It’s not the car I’m worried about. It’s the driver that freaked me out.”
Sam nodded.
“I’m not being crazy, am I? He was staring at us?”
“You’re going crazy, yeah, but he was staring.” Sam looked her way for only a second, his deep blue eyes smiling just as much as his mouth. He was a looker all right, if you liked pretty boys. Lori sure did.
“Thought so.” Lori forced a smile and returned her gaze to the side mirror. Her smile dropped at what she saw. “Sam.”
“Yeah?”
Lori said no more, twisting in her seat to glance over the headrest at the approaching vehicle. It was bulky, black, and shiny, speeding toward them from a half mile behind. The engine screamed within earshot. The exhaust fired like a shotgun blast. It grew larger from the distance as it sped toward them, catching up to them in an instant.
“Punch it,” she said.
“With the love of my life in the car? No chance.” He squeezed her thigh to reassure her.
“But it’s coming our way.” Lori felt a thread of sweat draw across her forehead. Her cold, hard stare fixed on the car until it was easy to read the fear-inducing five-letter word glistening on the front in metallic capitals: DODGE.
“Maybe you’re overreacting.” Sam checked his mirror. “But he is driving like a jerk. He’s probably wasting gas driving around, being a pain in the ass.”
“Right?” Lori turned around and double-checked her seat belt was fastened. The Dodge was anything but subtle as it invaded the proximity of their rear bumper. She clutched the armrest with one hand and reached for the dashboard with the other, her heart in her throat. “Do you think we should do something?”
“Like what?” Sam yelled, while rolling down his window and reaching an arm out. “Go around us, jackass!”
The driver must have caught sight of Sam’s hand signal, as he swerved around the Mercedes at frightening speed. It hurtled past and overtook them, leaving Lori and Sam in the shadow of the black steel beast as it grunted with raw power.
“Asshole,” Lori muttered, her heart racing.
But the Dodge just lingered there, maintaining its speed right ahead of them. It slowed down again, forcing Sam into doing the only thing he could do: swerve around it. Lori’s shoulder was flung into the door, and she cried out in pain, watching with rigid fear as the Dodge swung their way, its rear bumper kissing their front panel with a deafening clang.
“Look out!”
It was all Lori could scream before they lost control. The Mercedes bucked like a bronco, its back end spinning violently as the car flipped over several times. Time seemed to slow down while Lori watched the world tumble through the smashing windshield. Her elbows bumped and banged inside the car. The seat belt tightened across her chest. Her ankles smashed against the inside of the foot well, and she screamed. Her bones, muscles, joints, and organs felt like they were being crumbled and smashed into a tiny box. Her lungs contracted with such force that she was afraid they would fold into themselves. Her arms and legs flailed, searching for somewhere to hold and stop her body being thrust forward.
The world must have kept flickering its figurative ligh
t switch because her vision kept flashing from bitter darkness to blinding white light. The only sound that filled her ears was the crushing of glass mixed with the distinct crackle of bones. Her neck whipped from one side to the other as the car rolled to a final stop, and glass rained onto the dashboard in a thousand tiny fragments.
For a brief moment, Lori’s eyes flickered. Suspended upside down by her seat belt, her body felt numb. Her head spun like a vortex and pounded like a bass drum. The car had flipped so many times that Lori had become disorientated before she even sustained the concussion that had her drifting in and out of consciousness. She was fleetingly aware of the bloody taste in her mouth, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
Willing her eyes to focus, silence scared Lori more than the pain. Shouldn’t Sam be moaning or calling out? She tried to move, but she was pinned by the collapsed roof and the dashboard. Her neck was too fragile to move.
“Sam?” she fought to say, but it came out in a croak, drowned out by the hissing of the engine and the smoke trailing from it. “Sam, are you…”
Try as she might, she couldn’t crane her neck. All she could see from the corner of her eye was the bloodied hand of the man she loved, hanging without movement. Above him, the Mickey Mouse key ring she’d bought him swung from the ignition, rocking back and forth like everything was okay. Like they hadn’t just been in a car wreck at the fault of a careless shit-kicker who just happened to pass through town. Her fearful, hopeful brain worked while she stared with tired eyes at the key ring, frozen and terrified as it swung back and forth, back and forth, like a hypnotic pendulum, telling her everything would be just fine.
It was all she could think of as her eyes closed and the world became quiet.
