by James Hunt
Or had she?
Was she losing her mind? Was she falling into the same pit of despair as her mother? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Stacy’s mother had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and last spring Stacy had started to exhibit the same symptoms. The disease was hereditary. There was no reason to believe that what her mother had couldn’t be passed down to her.
Liz squeezed the end of the blanket tighter, her knuckles flashing white and her arms trembling from the effort.
But while her thoughts ran rampant with crazed ideas, Liz didn’t dare speak her thoughts aloud. It gave them too much power, too much truth. People thought crazy things all of the time. Hell, two years ago she thought that she was going to spend the rest of her life with two members of One Direction, but what separated the sane people from the insane was never speaking the words aloud.
Her mother had spoken the words aloud, and then she was thrown into an asylum. Liz shook her head, grunting in defiance. She wouldn’t turn into her mother. She wasn’t going to hurt her family the way that Amy did. No.
All she needed was a shower to wash off last night. It was all a prank. That’s it. Some stupid boy and his friends decided to dress up in strange outfits and scare her. She remembered the police officer talking about that last night. He said that he’d turn up at home and everything would be fine.
Clinging to that thought, Liz dropped the bedsheet and reached for her phone. She had forgot to charge it last night, but it still had some battery. She texted Max, telling him that his prank wasn’t funny and that he should be ashamed of himself, and waited a minute to see if he would respond.
She desperately wanted him to respond.
But when he didn’t, Liz chalked it up to the boy being too embarrassed for what he did to even respond to her text, lest he added more fuel to the fire in which he’d burn.
Liz left her phone on the dresser, then swung her legs off the side of the bed. She stood, wavered a bit, fighting off a dizzy spell, and then quickly headed toward the bathroom before she shut and locked the door. A force of habit when you’re forced to share a bathroom with a six year old.
The tub was ancient, one of those big claw-footed baths that belonged in a manor or old castle. It wasn’t clean, but it had a shower head, and she turned on the hot water first, letting the heat fill the room before she disrobed, then slid beneath the waterfall and shut her eyes.
The water shifted her mood immediately. With every fresh drop that hit her skin, another bad thought was quickly swallowed up by the drain between her feet. She had experienced a nightmare, plain and simple.
It hadn’t been real. It was a trick, a prank. And it was just a dream.
But when she slicked away the water from her eyes, she saw the trembling of her hands and her arms. And despite the heat of the water, she couldn’t stop shaking, and she couldn’t rid herself of the cold chill that rattled her spine.
Liz hyperventilated, and her heart rate accelerated. She shut her eyes, trying to get a grip on her breathing, but it only made it worse. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the streams of red running down her body. She touched her nose and wiped away more blood. “Oh my god.”
Liz flung her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and stem the bleeding. With the water still running, Liz stepped out of the tub and reached for the towel, struggling to get her footing with her head tilted back as she continued her attempts to keep the blood at bay.
She finally managed to dry her face enough to shove some tissues up her nose, but by the time she managed to do that, the bleeding had stopped.
Liz stared into the mirror, wiping away the fog to get a better look. She examined her nose, and it was like the nosebleed had never existed, though her eyes had gone bloodshot.
Tugging at the bottom of her left eye, Liz stepped back, shaking her head. “No. I’m fine. I’m fine.” She hurried out of the bathroom, shaking her head as though she didn’t believe her own words, and then dropped the towel and got dressed, putting on the first thing that she grabbed from her suitcase, a blue blouse and a white pair of shorts.
Hands still trembling, Liz couldn’t button her shorts. “Fuck!” She let it go out of frustration and then reached for her phone but froze in midstride.
A breath tickled the back of her neck. It was hot, but the sensation made her cold at the same time. She was paralyzed, unable to breathe, unable to blink. The breath blasted her neck in slow, rhythmic motions.
The glass vial that held the golden flakes rolled between her legs and stopped just within her field of vision. And then another hot blast of breath stung the back of her neck, this time accompanied by a deep, rotten voice that said, “Blood for gold.”
40
Amy and Maisie had gotten up a little after Terry had left, but Amy decided to let Liz sleep. She figured she’d just bring Liz back a plate when she and Maisie had finished breakfast.
The cafeteria wasn’t crowded. The combination of the discovery of the remains, and then Liz’s outburst last night, provided enough reasons for most of the guests to leave the struggling Ghost Town in the rearview mirror.
Amy wouldn’t mind leaving, but she knew that Terry wouldn’t budge. She glanced at the mine, the yellow police tape crossed over the entrance, the bright canary yellow contrasting against the dull oranges and browns of the surrounding rock and sand.
Maisie yanked on Amy’s arm, tugging her down the line. “C’mon, Mom.”
They loaded a to-go plate with eggs, toast, and fruit. Maisie snagged two orange juices and Amy grabbed a coffee, drinking it black in lieu of her two creamers. They headed back outside, heading toward the building with the hotel, but Amy stopped before they entered the lobby.
Outside the town’s perimeter, she saw the tents erected by the protestors. Even with most of the guests gone, they had stayed.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Maisie asked.
Amy fished out the room key from her pocket and handed it to Maisie, along with the bag of food, though she kept her coffee. “Take the breakfast up to your sister.”
“You’re not coming?” Maisie asked.
“I just need to check on something really quick,” Amy answered, reassuring her daughter with a smile and a kiss. “Remember the secret knock?”
Maisie nodded.
“Good. I’ll be up there in a minute.”
Amy watched her daughter head up the elevator, and then waved as the doors closed. With Maisie gone, Amy moved swiftly down the boardwalk. She stuffed her hand into her pocket, which still held the rock that the woman had given her and clutched it tight in her fist.
Of the dozen or so protestors, only three were out of their tents, conversing amongst themselves, eyeing Amy and then intercepting her on her approach, surrounding her with their arms crossed, blocking her path.
“There is a young woman here that I need to speak with,” Amy said.
The Indians didn’t move.
Amy held up the rock. “She gave me this. Do you know what it is?”
The three stone-faced sentries finally broke, each of them eyeing one another in turn. But it was the voice of the young woman who finally got them to move, speaking in her native tongue. The trio left, leaving her and the woman to talk.
“I don’t even know your name,” Amy said.
She hesitated and then, “Kara.”
Amy nodded. “Okay, Kara. My family has been through a lot.” She extended the rock to Kara. “And I’m not going to put them through any more trouble.”
Kara stared at Amy and then dropped her eyes to the rock. She shook her head and stepped back. “I’ll let you hang onto that.”
Amy shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’m not helping you.”
The slightest hint of a smile crossed Kara’s face, but it didn’t reach her eyes, causing the expression to sadden. “Then I won’t help you.”
Amy chuckled. “Help me with what?” She dropped the rock into the dirt. “You think you can do a little
research on me, learn about my accident, and then use that to try and convince me that whatever happened to me brought me here for a reason?” She waved her hands, backing up. “I’ve spent the past three months putting that behind me. I don’t need to linger in the past anymore.”
“You can’t run from this, Amy,” Kara said. “You can’t stop your destiny.”
Amy kept her face forward, muttering under her breath. “Watch me.”
Fuming with anger on her trip back to the building, she didn’t notice Terry at the lobby entrance, and stopped.
“Hey,” Amy said. “You’re done early.”
Terry shifted some of the equipment between his hands. “Yeah, it didn’t take as long as I thought.” When he saw that she was alone, he frowned. “Where are the girls?”
“Upstairs,” Amy answered. “Maisie and I came down to grab breakfast.”
Terry nodded. “How’s Liz?”
“She was still sleeping when we left.”
Silence lingered as they waited for the elevator, Amy unsure why it was taking so long for the damn thing to make it down.
“Christ, there’s only five floors,” Terry said.
But while Terry didn’t want to talk about it, Amy couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “I spoke to her. The woman.”
Terry looked at her, surprised. “How?”
“She came to find me,” Amy answered. “Said that the job you were working on was dangerous. She gave me those rock samples.”
Terry sighed. “Amy, she’s a lunatic. She’s been calling me ever since I got the contract job with Earth Core, and I—”
“I gave them back to her,” Amy said.
Terry paused, processing the information. “Oh.”
Amy rocked back and forth on her feet. “I actually thought that you were having an affair.” She glanced at him, and his cheeks blushed. “Are you?”
“No,” Terry answered quickly. “Of course not.”
And the next glance he gave her was the old Terry. The way he used to look at her before the accident, before all of this madness consumed their family.
“I miss you, Terry,” Amy said, her voice soft.
Terry fidgeted uncomfortably. When he finally looked at her, the elevator doors pinged open and the pair stepped inside.
Whatever he was going to say remained bottled up, and before Amy could probe any further, the doors opened to their floor and a high-pitched scream echoed through the hall.
Terry was first down the hall and into the room, finding Maisie standing over Liz, who had collapsed on the floor and begun to seize.
“Lizzy!” Terry dropped to a knee, keeping their daughter still while Amy picked Maisie up from the ground and cradled her daughter in their arms.
Liz remained unresponsive, her eyes rolled back into her sockets as she convulsed on the floor despite Terry’s attempts to keep her still. He turned to Amy, that same panic in his eyes that she’d seen on the day he had come to the hospital, the crazed expression of accusation, as if she had done this to their daughter.
“Call the ambulance, now!”
And as Amy held Maisie in one arm and reached for the nearest phone with the other, she glanced back at Liz, trembling as her daughter spewed blood from her nose.
41
Earth Core’s offices were busy. Mulaney’s team had been in crisis mode after the news of the kid’s disappearance. He had his legal team drafting up all kinds of statements and paperwork to ensure that their drilling date wasn’t pushed back. The phone glued to his ear hadn’t moved for the past two hours.
“I don’t care what it costs,” Mulaney said, waving off his secretary that tried to dump more papers on his desk for him to examine. “You tell Stewart and the rest of those clowns in PR that I’m not postponing the date. We’re cooperating with officials and that’s all we’re doing. Until they give me a subpoena, it’s business as usual.” He nodded. “Good.” He hung up.
Mulaney leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning from the movement, and he rubbed his eyes, regretting the third glass of scotch from last night.
“Sir?”
Mulaney opened his eyes, his vision blurred but able to identify Bishop’s hulking figure. “Come in. Shut the door.”
Bishop obliged, and the noises of the office were silenced. Mulaney drew the blinds, and it wasn’t until they were completely hidden did Bishop hand over the thumb drive.
“It better be good,” Mulaney said, taking the thumb drive and plugging it into his laptop before opening the folders. “What am I looking for?”
“The folder labeled A-1067,” Bishop answered.
Mulaney located the folder and then opened it, finding a video clip. He pressed play.
“This is footage taken from the east side camera by the mine,” Bishop said.
Mulaney frowned. “The quality’s shit.”
“Just watch.”
Mulaney waited, staring intently at the screen. It consisted of different shades of black, with a bright light in the top left corner of the screen, which Bishop pointed to.
“It’ll be right there,” Bishop said.
Mulaney squinted. Finally, a figure darted past, limping across the camera, and Bishop paused the video. But Mulaney tossed his hands in the air. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s the woman,” Bishop answered. “The Indian chick.”
Mulaney arched an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”
Bishop shook his head and then replayed the video. He paused again when the figure passed the light source and enhanced the image.
“Woman. Dark hair. Same height and body type.” Bishop planted his hands on his hips. “It’s not much, but it’s enough to get the police to sniff around her for a while. Especially with her priors.”
Mulaney stared at the picture, tilting his head to the side, and then slowly nodded, smiling as his chair rocked forward with his motions. “And while the police are focused on her, we can push our deal through with the EPA and still hit our drill date.” He clapped his hands together and jolted up from his chair. “God-damn if that’s not the most perfect thing I’ve heard all week.”
Never one to relish in victory, Bishop removed the thumb drive and placed it back into his pocket. “Shall I move forward?”
“Hell, yes, you shall move forward!” Mulaney answered, walking over to the big man and clapping him on the shoulder. “Good work.”
“Thank you, sir.” Bishop headed for the door and then quickly exited, shutting the door behind him.
Mulaney laughed and paced around the room, energized by the news. He wasn’t sure if the charges would stick, but he hoped they would. That woman had been a pain in his ass since he bought that land. At the very least, he hoped that she’d be dragged through the mud. Not that it would bother her. She was used to it by now.
Mulaney collapsed back into his chair, which rolled backward a foot from his momentum, and then he pulled himself back to the desk. He knew that hiring Bishop was the best thing he could have done. The man had done nothing but return dividends.
He had always believed that there wasn’t anything money couldn’t buy, or fix, so long as you had enough of it. And Mulaney was about to have more than he knew what to do with.
42
Amy wasn’t sure if they should move her, but Terry wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. He hovered over Liz like a hawk, so Amy kept herself busy by keeping Maisie busy, soothing their youngest daughter while Liz seized and bled through her nose and eyes on the floor.
It wasn’t until the paramedics finally burst through the door that Liz finally calmed down some. They lifted her onto the stretcher and then rushed her down the stairs, forgoing the elevator, strapping her down to keep her still.
Terry followed close behind. He would have helped carry the stretcher if there had been room in the stairwell, and if the paramedics would have allowed him.
Amy carried Maisie down, the girl clinging to Amy’s neck like a vise, tightening the longer they held onto one anothe
r.
The back of the ambulance was already open by the time they made it outside, and the paramedics quickly loaded Liz into the back, Terry following behind.
“Wait!” Amy said, stopping at the ambulance’s bumpers.
One of the paramedics reached for the door and started to close it. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we only have room for one parent.”
Terry poked his head out of the back, blocking the paramedic’s ability to close the door. “Stay here with Maisie. I’ll call you when I know more.”
“Terry, I should come with you,” Amy said, unable to hide the indignation in her voice.
“You can’t drive, and I’m the legal guardian for the girls when it comes to medical emergencies.”
The doors swung shut and the ambulance drove off, its red lights growing smaller and smaller the farther it drove out of the desert town and onto the highway, until it disappeared out of sight.
With the majority of the town evacuated, Amy stood in the middle of the street alone, Maisie still clinging tightly to her neck. She adjusted her daughter in her arms and then headed toward the hotel lobby, but she stopped herself just before she entered, turning back toward the mine.
The police tape had fallen, rattling along the sand with the wind. The longer she stared, the more she tightened her grip on Maisie, and it wasn’t until her daughter spoke up in pain that she finally relinquished her hold.
Amy set her daughter down and knelt to meet her at eye level. “I want you to head upstairs and stay there, okay, sweetie?”
Maisie frowned. “Why?”
“Because Mommy has to do something,” Amy answered, doing her best to keep her voice calm and collected. “It’s to help Lizzy. You want to help Lizzy?”
Maisie nodded.
“Good. Then go upstairs and start putting together some of her stuff, okay? Pick out some of the outfits you think she’ll like to wear.”
“She usually doesn’t like me going through her stuff,” Maisie said, skeptical.
