Eli's Town

by Amy Cross

  Maybe Mom and Karen were wrong. Maybe Eli's got the right idea, sticking around in Tulepa. After all, the place looks so calm and peaceful.

  ***

  “Now this is strong stuff,” says the man behind the counter a few minutes later, adjusting his glasses as he takes a look at the triple espresso coffee pouches I'm buying. “Don't sell many of these around here.”

  “It's just a little... pick-me-up,” I tell him, starting to get into the hang of this smalltalk business. “I drove for four hours to get here.” Spotting some discoloration on his hand, I can't help but notice that a couple of his fingers are swollen and black, as if they've been broken and left un-set. “What happened there?” I ask.

  He looks down at his hand. “Oh. Nothing, I just caught it.”

  “It looks almost necrotic.”

  “Really, it's fine.”

  “Doesn't it hurt?”

  He smiles. “I'll be sure to get it checked out soon.”

  “But -”

  “So you said you drove for four hours to get here, huh?”

  Realizing that he's trying to change the subject, I figure there's no point pushing him. “It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

  “Is that right?” He rings up some more of my items, and I can't help noticing that he keeps glancing at his watch, as if he's nervous about the time. “Just passing through, are you?”

  “Kind of. I'm visiting my uncle and then I have to get back on the road.”

  Reaching into my pocket, I take out my purse and take a moment to count out a few notes. When I turn to place them on the counter, however, I find that the man has stopped ringing my items up and is staring at me with a faint, curious frown.

  “Um...” I say after a moment. “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine,” he replies, smiling as he comes back to life. “Sorry, I was just surprised by your answer, that's all.” He rings up the last few things and then takes the cash. “So, uh, Tulepa's not a very big town, everyone kinda knows everyone. Do you mind if I ask who you've here to visit?”

  “My uncle lives here. Maybe you know him? His name's Eli Denton.”

  The man opens his mouth to reply, but I can see a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Eli? So... So you're his niece?”

  “One of several. We have a big family.”

  He pauses, as if he's genuinely shocked, and after a moment he adjusts his glasses again. “Well,” he says finally, “maybe he's mentioned you. What's your name again?”

  “Holly,” I reply. “Holly Denton.”

  “Holly...” He stares at me, as if something about my answer has genuinely given him pause for thought. “Huh. So... So you're his niece Holly, are you? Little Holly, the girl who... The girl who wanted to be a doctor?”

  “I...” Surprised that he'd know something like that, I can't help frowning. “Well, yes, actually... I've been qualified for fifteen years now.”

  “You have?”

  “Did... Eli talk about me?”

  “Oh...” He pauses for a moment. “No, I don't think so. Maybe. It's just... I don't know, it's weird what you remember, huh? I just have this strong memory that Eli had a niece who wanted to be a doctor, that's all. You must have made an impression back then.”

  “I guess so,” I reply with a smile, starting to feel as if smalltalk is a little more difficult – and weirder – than I'd anticipated. “To be honest, I was just passing the area and I thought I'd drop in and check on my uncle. That's what families do, right?” I wait for an answer, but over the past few seconds it seems as if the man's attitude has changed completely, and he's gone from being friendly and relaxed to... Well, if I didn't know better, I'd say that he's worried. “So do you know my uncle?” I ask finally. “Eli Denton? He lives on Piebarton Road.”

  He opens his mouth to reply, but once again he holds back for a moment. “Eli... Yeah,” he says with a slow, cautious nod, “I think... Yeah, I think I might have met him once or twice.” He scratches the back of his neck as he turns and looks through to the rear of the store, almost as if he's checking for someone. “Um, yeah, I think he might have been in here a few times, uh...” He pauses, before glancing back at me. “So you're here to, what, just drop by for a coffee and see how he's doing?”

  “To be honest,” I reply, “sometimes we feel a little guilty.”

  “Guilty?”

  “The rest of the family moved away from the area a long time ago. Eli's the only one who stayed, and what with one thing and another, none of us really get out this way to visit him as much as we should. Or at all, really.” I pause for a moment, before allowing myself an embarrassed smile as I realize that I'm opening up to a complete stranger. “I'm sorry,” I continue, “I don't mean to make it sound like anything's wrong. I'm just dropping by to see a relative.”

  He glances at his watch, before turning back to me. “Obviously a relative who you think can't look after himself,” he says, with a hint of grit in his voice. “I guess you people from the city feel the need to come and check on us simple country folk from time to time, like we can't manage for ourselves.”

  “I didn't say that -”

  “Here's your change,” he adds, sliding some coins back to me before stepping back as if he's waiting for me to leave.

  “Listen -”

  “I have another customer to deal with,” he says firmly.

  I turn and look, but there's no-one else in the store. “If I -”

  Before I can finish, the door opens and a woman hurries in, making straight for the counter.”Mr. Packer,” she stammers, as if she's in a panic, “I must have your undivided attention at once!” She glances at me, with a hint of disdain in her expression. “You're done here, right?”

  “I guess so,” I reply, grabbing my bag and change. “Please, make sure you get those fingers checked out,” I add, “as soon as you can.” I pause, distinctly aware that they're both waiting for me to leave, and then finally I head out of the store.

  Somehow, I get the feeling that Tulepa isn't as friendly these days as it was when I was last here. In fact, as I stand looking out across the immaculately-maintained town square, I can't help noticing that several passersby are glancing at me with cold, unfriendly eyes. It's almost as if, after just a few minutes, I've managed to offend the town itself.

  Chapter Two

  Tatty

  “Who'll it be this time?” I whisper, watching the town square through my camera's viewfinder. I linger on Mrs. Calcott for a moment, following her as she walks toward the bank, and then I switch to Mrs. Merrill, who seems to be having trouble finding her car keys in her pockets. “Who's going to be the latest 12 o'clock -”

  Stopping suddenly, I turn my camera to follow a different woman as she walks away from the convenience store. Frowning, I realize that I've never seen her before in my life, which can only mean one thing.

  “A stranger in town,” I mutter, with a hint of wonder in my voice as I keep the viewfinder trained on her. She's opening the door of a car and climbing inside. “Now that's not something that happens every day. A real life stranger in dead old Tulepa.”

  I keep watching for the next few minutes, zooming as close as I can manage as I watch the woman eating a sandwich in her car. Finally I check my watch and see that it's barely 9am, which means there's still three hours to go until the moment of truth, and anyway, I think strangers get a free pass around here when it comes to the 12 o'clock stuff, although maybe that idea has never been tested. Then again, not to complicate things, but I've been wondering lately whether a new theory might -

  Suddenly someone coughs right behind me, and I turn to see Jordan Swinton watching me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to spy on strangers?” he asks. “Seriously, Tatty? Don't you have anything better to be doing?”

  “Not really,” I reply. “Do you?”

  “Get a life,” he mutters, turning and wandering away.

  “Around here?” I ask, hurrying after him with
my camera hanging around my neck. “What do you call getting a life in Tulepa, anyway? Sitting out the back of the bar, drinking and talking about how you'd like to fix up your car? Wow, I'm sure you'll be hearing from the Nobel committee any day now.”

  He glances back at me, clearly not impressed. “The who?”

  “I'm working on my portfolio,” I continue. “I'm going to publish a photo-essay about what's going on around here.”

  Stopping, he sighs before turning to me. “No you're not.”

  I frown. “Yes I am.”

  “No you're not, because nothing is happening around here.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. Says everyone.”

  I look over my shoulder and see that the stranger is still sitting in her car, swigging from a bottle of water. Turning back to Jordan, I realize he thinks I'm a complete joke. That's not exactly news, and I'm more than used to being laughed at by the cooler kids in town, but right now I feel like I want to stand up for myself just a little. “You don't think people dropping dead at the exact same time each day is worth investigating?” I ask. “Seriously?”

  “Tatty -”

  “Every day, at exactly noon?”

  He sighs.

  “One person a day,” I continue. “Just one, on the stroke of midday. For two weeks straight. Come on, that's the definition of something happening.”

  “It's just a coincidence,” he replies. “Didn't you hear Doc Conyne at the town meeting last week? He and the others have looked into it and they found it was just a big coincidence. There's no need to go making up conspiracy theories.” He eyes me with caution for a moment. “Then again, I guess I shouldn't have expected better. You're just a kid, so I guess this kind of thing brightens up your days, huh?”

  “I'm almost sixteen,” I point out, although I immediately hate how goddamn imperious I sound.

  “Ooh, almost sixteen?” he laughs, taking a step back. “Let me know when you turn twenty-one, sweetie. Then maybe we'll have something to talk about. Unless you wanna join a few of us one night when no-one's looking? I mean, not every rule has to be followed.”

  “I'm busy working on my photo-essay.”

  “You're a real Diane Arbus, huh?”

  “How would you even know who Diane Arbus is?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

  “I know who you are,” he replies, “and you're just a dumb little...” He pauses, as if he's trying to find the right word. “Well, you know what you are. You're the town freak.”

  “And you're the town -”

  “Hey!” Brittany Lawrence says, suddenly hurrying over and wrapping her arms around Jordan like some long-lost lover who hasn't seen him for years. “There you are! I was starting to think you'd, I don't know, disappeared into the ether or something.”

  “Into the ether?” I mutter, frowning. “Since when did you talk like that?”

  She plants a big, wet kiss on his cheek; it's enough to make me want to hurl.

  “I was just teasing Tatty,” he says, smiling at me as Brittany hangs off him like an ill-fitting scarf. “She was explaining her latest dumb theories and taking photos of that new woman in town.”

  “What new woman?” Looking around, Brittany finally spots the woman still sitting in her car. After a moment, the woman happens to glance in our direction and sees us watching her; she stares at us for a moment, with a bite of sandwich half in her mouth, before finally we all turn away. “Embarrassing!” Brittany says with a giggle. “What do you think she's doing here? Why would anyone come to visit Tulepa?”

  “Must be lost,” Jordan mutters.

  “Maybe she's investigating the mystery,” I suggest.

  “There's no mystery in Tulepa,” Brittany replies, rolling her eyes. “There's just... What's the opposite of mystery? Obviousness?”

  “Tatty's fretting about the twelve o'clock thing,” Jordan says with a grin, clearly amused by me. “She's still buying into the idea that something weird is going on.”

  “Something weird is going on,” I say firmly, feeling as if my blood is about to boil over with frustration. “Why doesn't anyone else accept that? Every day for the past two weeks, someone in town has died at exactly midday! There are only a few hundred people living in Tulepa, so do you realize the odds against that coincidence? They're mind-blowing and, like, ten per cent of the population has been affected now! It's not always old people, either. It's like it could strike anyone, anywhere, but always at noon!”

  “Maybe you'll be next,” Jordan points out.

  Brittany whispers something to him, and they both laugh.

  “Anyone could be next,” I tell them. “That's the point. You, or me, or anyone. Two days ago, Sandy Clements dropped dead and he was only, like, twenty-two!”

  “And he had a heart problem,” Jordan replies.

  “No-one ever talked about that until after he died,” I continue, trying not to get too worked up. “Even Sandy never mentioned it, and he sure seemed to push himself in gym. Then after he dropped, Doctor Conyne suddenly started going on about a heart problem, almost as if he was just trying to come up with an explanation.”

  “Later, loser,” Jordan says, patting me on the shoulder as he and Brittany turn to walk away.

  “I'm not a loser!” I call after them, but they're already laughing and joking, shoving one another as they head to the corner. I swear, until recently I didn't even know Jordan Swinton and Brittany Lawrence were hanging out, but lately they seem suddenly to spend all their time together. Turning, I see that the mysterious woman has started her car, and a moment later she pulls out of the parking lot and drives away. Raising my camera, I take a couple more photos, but I don't really learn anything new about her.

  Still, a new arrival in Tulepa is always unusual, doubly so at a time like this, and I can't help thinking that this strange woman might be linked to everything that's been happening. Checking my watch, I see that there's less than three hours to go until midday, so I guess we'll all find out soon if there's going to be another death.

  I might be the only one who's worried right now, but eventually the others are going to have to care.

  Chapter Three

  Holly

  “Eli?” I call out, after waiting for someone to answer the door. “Hey, Eli Denton, are you home? It's me, Holly, your niece. Do you remember me?”

  I wait again.

  No reply.

  “Are you in there?”

  Again, silence.

  Taking a step back, I look up at the house and realize that something about the whole place feels almost preternaturally still. When I arrived a few minutes ago, I double-checked I'd got the right address and I even called Karen to confirm, since the house seems... not abandoned, necessarily, but definitely unloved. For one thing, the paint on the front door is peeling, and for another the garden is completely overgrown. Eli was never exactly houseproud, but it's still worrying to think that he's letting everything go like this. On the other hand, there was no mail in the box and it's not like the place is a complete mess. There are just enough signs of life to make me think he's still about.

  “Eli?” I call out again, even though I know he must have heard me already if he's inside.

  Checking my watch, I see that it's almost half nine, so I guess he might have gone out for a while. After all, I tried calling to let him know I'd be passing by, but I have no idea whether he got the message, or even whether he wants to be visited. From what I remember, Eli has a tendency to be slightly crotchety.

  “You looking for someone?” a voice calls out.

  Turning, I see an elderly man leaning against the fence. Figuring that I've found a neighbor, I head across the overgrown lawn, while glancing back at the house for a moment. I almost expect to see Eli watching me from one of the windows.

  “I'm trying to track down my uncle,” I say as I reach the man. Looking over the fence, I see that in contrast to Eli's garden, this guy's place is immaculate. “Do you know Eli?” I add, shielding my eyes
from the morning sun.

  He laughs. “Do I know Eli?” Something about the question clearly amuses him, and it takes a moment for his chuckles to die down. As he laughs, I can't help but notice that all the teeth in his mouth are rotten, some of them down to the nerves. How this man isn't in perpetual agony, I have no idea. “Well,” he continues, “I've lived next door to the man for the best part of twenty years, so I guess I should.” He glances toward the house. “Yeah, I reckon I know him pretty well. As well as anyone can with a guy like that, anyway.”

  “Is he around right now?” I ask. “I just knocked, but there was no answer.”

  “No, there wouldn't be.” He looks me up and down. “You're family, aren't you?”

  “How did you -”

  “Family resemblance,” he continues, interrupting me. “I mean, not that Eli's pretty like you, but he's got a certain dashing charm.” He chuckles again. “Or he did have, anyway. It's been a while since I saw his face. He hasn't been out of the house much, at least not during the day.”

  “But it's possible he's out right now, isn't it?”

  He pauses for a moment. “Well, I guess anything's possible...”

  I glance back toward the house again, and I can't shake the feeling that maybe Eli isn't doing so well. Watching the windows, I still expect to see someone staring out. The last time I saw my uncle, all those years ago, he was a stocky, well-built man, albeit hunched over with poor posture. He looked like the kind of guy who'd been big and strong once, back in his youth, but who'd worn that strength until it dragged him down. I still remember the way he'd wear the same clothes for weeks on end, until he began to notice the smell and changed, at which point he'd be all smart and neat and clean again, only to start the same process all over again.

  “Eli's just different in the head,” Mom told me once, after I asked about him. “Ever since he was born, everyone's known that Eli isn't like the rest of us.”

  “Are you Holly?” the old man asks suddenly.

  I turn to him, shocked that he knows my name.