As I watched Phillip and Ginger become adults in my mind, I realized I too had to do the same. So I did. I slowly made my way through college. I finally quit the grocery store for a part-time job taking calls as a patient services representative at the hospital. And when I graduated, they hired me on full-time. I didn’t earn much but managed to move into a modest apartment.
Dr. Griffin praised my independence but warned of inadequate social interaction. Yet as much as I craved being with others, I declined and chose a solitary way of life. It wasn’t because I was afraid someone like Everett would attempt to control me again. The truth was, I didn’t dare risk associating with others because I couldn’t bear the thought of once again being abandoned.
Part VI
Where the Cats Will Not Follow
34
Touch of Evil
The second night, sleep was a field of blackness. Dark. Infinite. Clear and silent. Void of trepidation. Funny how in the most turbulent of times, I was able to find peace. I woke to the sounds of birds foraging in the bushes. Before opening my eyes, I stretched my arms freely over the edge of the bed. Though I was not restrained, I sensed him watching. Sure enough, when I opened my eyes, there Phillip sat on the wooden stool. “Sorry,” he murmured, not intending to duplicate the awkward events of the previous morning.
“I slept really well,” I cheerfully reported.
His blue eyes met the floor. “Meaning you didn’t find Ginger,” he assumed. I too lowered my head, attempting to find the same spot where his eyes were fixed. Accepting my silent answer, he replied, “Well, I had to ask.”
“I’ll keep trying,” I promised. But the truth was, I had yet to try. As it turned out, my peaceful sleep was void of Phillip’s anguish as well.
“Will you?” He seemed to beg and ask politely at the same time. “Even though I know it has to be confusing for you. After all these years, me believing Everett.”
“Well, you are threatening to undo a lot of expensive therapy,” I joked dryly.
“I’m sorry I did this to you. Really, I am. Because the thing is, I don’t really know. I don’t know if I’m right. When I called you, when I brought you here, it seemed like the only thing to do. It seemed to make the most sense. All I could think of was what Everett had told me: that it was you, through your dreams, who found those hidden coins. That it was through your dreams you knew where to find the buried Indians. It became a clear solution. I thought if I could get you to muster just a bit of whatever he had gotten you to muster, then maybe it’d give me a place to look. Maybe you could find Ginger like you found those coins. But today—I don’t know.”
I filled my lungs with a deep breath and slowly let them deflate. “It’s worth a shot, I guess. I’ll help you, Phillip. I will.”
He cracked a half smile and then suddenly looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. “You know how I told you Ginger and I planned to get married, but that each time something would come up?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’s not totally true. She wanted to get married. She even proposed to me for Christ’s sake. But I just—didn’t. I’d make excuses. Avoid the subject. I love her. Absolutely. But I always kept myself from making that final commitment. I can’t even say for sure what it was. I don’t know. I guess I was feeling I didn’t have a chance to sow my wild oats or whatever. It seems so stupid now. Shit, was I a fool.”
Although I was the least qualified person alive to be giving Phillip relationship advice, I found myself saying, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Ginger was the only serious girlfriend you had after high school. It makes sense you had cold feet. You’re both still young. There’s plenty of time.”
“But it made her furious. Made her feel—unwanted. And the worst part is the night she left, the night she never came back, we had a terrible argument over it.” He held his head in his hands. “She was going to leave me if I didn’t marry her. She went for a jog to let off some steam. And by the time she came back, I was to have an answer. I should’ve held on to her right then and there. But I let her go. How goddamn stupid. I should’ve begged her to marry me at that very moment. But instead, I opted for the time to think about it. My God. I had to think about it! And now, because of that, I may never see her again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Even if things were going to end, they can’t end like this. No matter what, I have to find her.” His eyes began to glaze until tears spilled down his cheeks. He didn’t make a sound. He just let the tears stream.
His silent cry made me uncomfortable and embarrassed. I pretended not to notice. I looked beyond him and into the living area. It was then I saw movement, a quick shadow pass in front of the door. “Phillip,” I said as calmly as possible, hastening his lament, “is there anyone else in the cabin?”
“No.” My question put him on alert. He lifted his head and focused.
“Because I just saw something move,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Past the door. Into the kitchen.”
He rushed out of the bedroom. His fingers twitched as he staggered backward in uneven steps. “What’re you doing here? How’d you get here?” he asked, stunned.
I threw the covers from my legs. Before I could reach the doorway, the intruder had tackled Phillip in a blur. The two hit the wooden floor with a thud. I swiftly rounded the corner to see a man on top of Phillip. He slugged Phillip in his side and then brutally in the face. Phillip’s bashed lip gushed blood down his chin. Even with only being able to see the attacker from behind, immediately I knew who it was.
“Stop it!” I begged. Everett halted while keeping Phillip pinned. He sucked in deep breaths, his torso heaving as he turned to face me. The flash of his famous grin was out of context in the moment but nonetheless proved he was in fact my brother, Everett.
I had been conditioned to feel nothing but hatred toward him. To be frightened of him. And I knew if I was to ever see him again, it would only mean one thing: that I had fallen off the deep end and had lost my mind. Yet in that moment, I couldn’t force myself to be angry. Or afraid. And I didn’t fret over whether or not I was sane. Instead, all the memories, all the feelings I had suppressed came back in a rush of emotion, and I felt—relief, relief knowing that everything I had buried and denied, everything that I had held a secret affinity for, was not dead. In that moment, I understood the awakening Phillip had spoken of the day before, the realization that things in the past you thought impossible were probable again. And like Phillip, I suddenly didn’t care about logic. I didn’t care about all the supposed clarity I had gained from Dr. Griffin—because Everett was right there in the room with me. I was not imagining him. Phillip, pinned beneath him, certainly could’ve attested to that.
Acknowledging what he had done to Phillip, I said to Everett, “You must’ve been saving up energy for a very long time.”
“I have. For a long time. Collecting it. Waiting.” He stood, his white T-shirt smeared with Phillip’s blood.
“So you being here, coming to the cabin—it must be important,” I assumed, seeing as the last time I had seen him, he had materialized to give me the key to surviving without him.
“It is,” he assured, stepping toward me. “Now go put your shoes on.” I did as he said and hurried into the bedroom. By the time I reemerged, Phillip had regained his footing. Physically, he was hurt. But what impeded him more was the awe he experienced from the otherworldly appearance of his former friend.
“Phillip’s girlfriend is missing,” I explained to Everett. “I’m here trying to help him find her.”
“Is that true, Ayden? Because from what I could see, floating outside these windows among the perfume of lilacs, it seemed pretty clear to me you had been kidnapped, tied up, abused.”
There was an awful silence. Phillip didn’t protest. He couldn’t have. “It started out that way,” I admitted. “It did. But I want to help Phillip now.”
“Don’t protect him,” snap
ped Everett. “When I was alive, he ran away from us with his tail between his legs. It took my death and you lying sick in the hospital for him to even visit. And don’t give him too much credit for saving you from the demons. He never even believed they existed, never acknowledged you were truly in danger before scampering away a second time, leaving you unprotected. And now he has the balls to force you to listen to his incessant guilt-ridden droning about some so-called lost girlfriend?”
“Her name is Ginger,” Phillip said, defiantly stepping forward.
“Well, you’re not going to find her. Not alive anyway.” Phillip looked sickened as Everett turned to me and declared, “Because Phillip killed her.”
“Liar!” Phillip burst. He clenched his fists and began to shake.
“Who was the last to see her alive?” Everett shot back. “Who had a ‘terrible argument’ with her before she went missing? And who do you suppose is the number one suspect the police are looking for right now?” Everett grabbed my wrist. “I will not let you harm my brother any longer just so you can go on lying to yourself, pretending there is a chance she is still alive.” He tugged me toward the door and whispered in my ear, “This is it. Are you ready?”
I looked into his eyes. It was Everett. My brother. My protector. But he had abandoned me for Kirsten. For Texas. For death. Phillip was my friend, appointed by Everett to be his surrogate. And for a time, he was. But he had also abandoned me. The first time, Everett had driven him away. But the second time, he had left for the life of a certified public accountant—and had taken Ginger with him. I was torn. I wanted to go with Everett. And yet, I didn’t want to leave. I had promised Phillip I’d help him. He stood before us, hurt. Confused. I didn’t fear him. But I wondered if I should’ve. Was what Everett said true? Was Ginger dead? Had Phillip killed her? Was he really only keeping me there as a way to circumvent his guilt?
“I’m ready,” I finally whispered back, cementing my decision. It happened so fast. Before I knew it, we were out the door and running across the field.
“I didn’t kill her!” Phillip shouted after us. “I know you know that, you asshole!”
I didn’t look back to see if Phillip was following us. Everett’s grip remained tight as we ran toward the woods in the distance. It felt good to be running with him again. I had missed it, running with him from—or to—danger. When we finally entered the woods, we barely slowed our pace. I was so full of adrenaline, I couldn’t even feel the branches scraping against my skin. We pushed through thick brambles. We jumped over logs and depressions filled with water. Everett glided with ease over the obstacles. He’d take one leap that seemed to carry him the distance of three. He moved effortlessly, soaring over the forest floor. My heart pounded as I raced to keep up with him. It wasn’t long before our bearings became murky. I had no idea how far away we were from the cabin or in which direction it was.
Yet my bearings weren’t all I was losing. After one of his giant leaps, Everett’s feet failed to reconnect with the ground. And suddenly, it was only I who ran. He was still clamped on to my wrist, and I pulled him along as he hovered beside me. When he began to rise, my arm was wrenched above my head. I stopped, gasping for air, as his body rotated over me, the soles of his shoes facing the treetops. The veins in his neck and forehead became swollen as blood rushed to his head. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, squeezing as tight as I could. There was no need to discuss what was happening. We both knew his time was limited. We both knew he had to return, be absorbed back into nature at the molecular level. Speech became difficult for him. He was only able to utter syllables upon his exhales. “You. Have. To. Es. Scape,” he managed to get out.
I looked behind me to the maze of trees. “Where do I go?” I felt awful for asking. He had rescued me from the cabin. Had gotten me that far. The least I could’ve done was figure the rest out for myself. I shook my head, attempting to erase my question. He released his grip on my wrist. And reluctantly, I released my grip on his. I shielded my eyes from the sun as I watched him rise into the treetops. He pushed branches out of his way on his journey to the sky. Once clear of the trees, he extended his arm and pointed west. I knew it was west because it was the opposite direction of the rising sun. I watched as he became smaller and smaller until finally he disappeared, dissolved into the blue sky.
I began to head west as Everett had instructed. But without him, I lost the sense of urgency. I meandered past a pond surrounded by patches of enormous ferns, their leaves a deep lustrous green. I stepped carefully among them, not wanting to disturb the critters that surely made their homes in the slick mud beneath the broad canopies.
A pine forest began where the ferns ended. Stepping into it was like crossing the boundary into another world. The lush green was replaced by a rust-colored floor composed of fallen needles. The dried needles created a soft carpet that kept the floor barren of any new growth. The massive conifers were in perfect rows. Their thin trunks were bare of branches except at the very tops. It felt strange, a bit eerie, to be inside of what felt like a giant cathedral with towering pillars—outdoors.
Near the center of this forest-within-a-forest, I came upon a faint two-track that had been borne into the soft floor. I stood on the path debating if I should cross it and continue heading west. Or whether I should travel the path in hopes of finding—something. I wondered if the path led back to the cabin. In that case, I’d risk coming across an angry Phillip. Yet I also wondered if perhaps Everett had pointed me west for the purpose of discovering the path. Maybe it led to a main road, where I’d be able to flag down a vehicle? I decided to take it. Eventually, its twists led me out of the pine forest and into yet another ecosystem.
I followed the path carved through an overgrown field as it wove between thick bushes and weeds that stood well over my head. The smell of wild carrots mixed with the lingering scent of the nearby pine forest. As I wound along the path, in between the scattered birch and a bramble of overgrown shrubs and sumac, something caught my eye: a glimpse of faded red. I pushed aside the dense brush, revealing broken headlights and a busted grille, with saplings poking through.
A tinge of horror suddenly rushed over me. The tires had long been deflated, causing the body of the pickup to slump. It was a sad, weathered version of its former self. I moved to the side of the truck and pulled off the clinging vines that had choked it over time. Rust had eaten the lower half of its frame, no longer a vibrant, metallic-red. Still, I could clearly see the deep gash that ran the length of its body. I ran my finger over the gouge. Instantly, images flooded my mind: The high school parking lot. The chase through the cornfield. Ian mutilated at the bottom of the pit. Everett covered in blood after battling Todd.
“Afterward, we hid the truck here.” Startled, I spun to see Phillip behind me. “It was Everett’s idea. He knew my parents owned a bunch of acres up here. He insisted it’d be the best place to hide the truck. I was so—outside of my mind—that I just followed his instructions as he spit them out.” He came forward and placed his hand on the hood. “First, I helped bury Ian,” he continued. “We pulled him out of the pit and dragged him into the woods. Everett said the cornfield was tilled every other season, so if we just covered him in the pit, eventually his body would’ve been brought to the surface. He said the woods would be perfect because the Indians were already buried there. Who’d question one more grave? We did the same with Todd, although that wasn’t so easy—seeing as parts of him were scattered across the cornfield. After they were buried, we showered. Burned our clothes. And then Everett followed me in his car while I drove the pickup here.
“It was on the ride home when he told me about you. About how you could entrance animals. And about your dreams. He told me how he had been trying to use them to predict the future. Use them to find out things no one else could know. I kept my mouth shut as I listened to all this—bullshit. I figured he thought I was just as gullible as you and was telling me these things to try to distract me from what he had done. B
ut by that point, all I could think of was that I was sharing a car with a murderer. I was in no mood for his games. So I finally told him to shut the fuck up and demanded to know what had happened. I asked him point-blank why he had killed Ian and Todd. Well, that question did finally shut him up. He didn’t say a word for the longest time. It wasn’t until we were almost back to the city that he finally opened his mouth. He told me that he didn’t kill them. He told me it wasn’t him who put the metal pieces in the bottom of the pit. And when he and Todd were fighting in the cornfield, he said there were others there.”
“Others?” I asked.
“‘Creatures,’ he said. ‘With horns. And fingers that came to points like knives.’ He claimed they tore Todd into pieces. Not him. He told me that he and you had fought with these monsters in the cornfield before. That you’d blast them with the lasers of some kind of craft you rode in the middle of the night. Well, after that, I figured not only was he a murderer, but a batshit insane murderer. He said, ‘You can believe what I’m telling you about the pit and about these monsters. Or you can believe that I killed them.’ Either way, he didn’t care. And that was the end of it. He was right. It didn’t matter. What was done was done. And I was a part of it. But one thing I was never able to shake from my head was his easygoing way of dealing with it all. It made me feel like—”
“There was a touch of evil in him?” Phillip nodded. I knew that vibe Everett exuded all too well. I didn’t recognize it myself until I was older and looked back at the mischievous smirk he gave as he introduced me that first time to the diabolic monsters in the corn. It gave him such delight.
Where the Cats Will Not Follow Page 21
