“I wasn’t a big fan of keggers, anyway. I always hated beer.”
“I don’t think anyone really likes beer. I think they just get used to it.”
“Why is that? Because it’s cheap?”
“Probably. It’s why I drink it.”
I giggled. “All right then. We should get to work, probably.”
Owen helped me tear off the roof shingles and lay down the new. We used hammers and weird substances I’d never seen before, and within minutes, Owen had taught me in a way that I felt like a pro. He was a good teacher and completely patient when I nailed my fingers with the hammer one too many times. It’s not like I’m horribly clumsy, just extremely stupid at times.
The most enjoyable part was the small talk. Owen was a pretty friendly guy, and I credited that to his small country living he had going on here. Detroit wasn’t filled with a lot of polite, well-mannered men, so it was almost galling when I realized how nice he was.
We climbed down the ladder when were finished, and being the gentleman that he was, made sure to go down first so he could hold it steady for me.
“Might as well keep the ladder out here,” I said as I leaned it up against the house. “I’m going to be painting as well, so no use having to drag it out every day.”
“Makes sense,” he responded casually. “So, you feel like a repairman yet?”
“Like a regular Bob Vila.”
“You know my dad actually used to know him?”
“No way. Are they still friends?”
Owen got tongue-tied for a second and then promptly said, “No.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
“What time did you want me to come over tomorrow?”
“Same time should do.”
“All right,” he said with a boyishly charming smile.
He had been so nice to volunteer with all this work without a single payment that I felt obligated to try to offer him something. “Did you want to stay for dinner?”
“Oh, that’s all right,” he politely rejected, waving his one hand in the air.
“Are you sure? I feel bad you doing all this without getting anything.”
“We’re neighbors now, and I like Wendy. She’s always been a good neighbor to me. A little wacky at times, but always willing to help me or my sister if we need something. She’s made us a few meals back in the day even.”
“Kind of hard to believe. As soon as I walked through the door, she assigned me to dinner duties till the day I leave. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’s going to not complain when I do it wrong.”
“That’s right, you’re a vegetarian.”
“How’d you know?”
“I hear things.”
“Hear things, huh? Am I all the rage these days?”
Owen chuckled. “It’s a small town. Everybody knows everybody’s business.”
“I have heard that. From a very moody cashier.”
“You’ve met Priscilla, huh?”
“I prefer to call it experiencing her. She’s such a pleasant person,” I said in an exaggerated happy voice.
“She happen to say anything about me?”
That he was a boy scout? That Priscilla was obviously harboring some negative feelings over him not liking her? “Nope, not a thing.”
“That’s a surprise. She’s one of the many people here that has something to say about everybody. I’m not really into all that small town gossip. I’d prefer to just hang out in the backyard having a bonfire.”
“Sounds nice.”
He opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but then abruptly stopped and rubbed the bottom of his chin with his hand. “Never mind,” he said.
“What?”
“I was just going to ask you something, but you probably won’t want to do it.”
“What is it?”
“It’s more of a favor than anything.”
I laughed at the irony of him feeling weird for asking me to do anything. “Owen, I think I owe you one.”
“It’s just this thing my sister is putting together. Our local church has a leaky roof and the whole thing feels like it’s a moment away from completely caving in. She’s been putting together a fundraiser to have it repaired. But we need some volunteers.”
“I could totally do it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That way we’ll be even steven.”
He looked overjoyed and relieved, as though he truly thought I would have said no. “Awesome. I’m so glad.”
“What exactly would I be doing?”
Momentarily, his face froze and then it turned into this forced teeth-filled smile. “I’ll have her come by tomorrow and go over the details with you,” he said. I usually wasn’t fond of being in the dark about things, especially with that weird face Owen just gave me, but I decided to play it cool and go along for the ride. How bad could a fundraiser be? “I’ll head home and let her know you’re up for it.”
He was about to skip away like a happy little elf when I stopped him. “Quick question.”
“Yeah?”
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be out in the woods? I went out there today to take some pictures and this guy was kind of harping at me because he hunts there. I thought it’d be okay as long as I stayed near my grandma’s house, but he was acting like I shouldn’t be out there period.”
Owen groaned very slowly. “You must have run into Max.”
“Max?”
“Longish brown hair?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
He put both hands to his hips and very slowly shook his head. “Ignore that guy. Everything and everybody is an annoyance to him. He’s a jerk.”
“Oh, okay then,” I said and quickly shut up.
“Just don’t go deep. Stay close to the edge and you’ll be fine.”
“That I can do,” I responded, and had to fight the urge to salute him. I don’t know why. It was a stupid habit. Whenever someone gave me orders for my own protection I felt like I had to do some kind of gesture out of respect.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Yes, sir,” and like an idiot the saluting instinct took over. Good thing Owen was such a sport, because, God, I do some moronic things.
When I came back inside the house, Grandma’s butt was sticking out from behind the refrigerator door and her head practically jammed inside the crisper. “Guess who used a hammer and only has two possibly permanent scars?” I announced, swinging the object around my index finger. I only dropped it on the floor after the third full swing.
“Where’s my ice cream?” she asked and closed the fridge door.
“Shoot. I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“You know I can’t function without my ice cream.”
“I do?”
“Yes.”
“Grandma, that’s literally the first time I’ve heard you say that.”
“I can’t function without my ice cream. Now it’s the second. Please go get me some, dear.”
I still had tired sweat dripping down the back of my neck and already I was being sent on another mission. Boy oh boy. “Can it wait a little bit?”
“I’ve been waiting since yesterday.”
“I just fixed your roof. You don’t have to worry about enthusiastic woodpeckers peering in watching you in the bathtub anymore. Doesn’t that buy me a half hour?”
“They never bothered me. Ice cream, please, dear.”
I groaned and grabbed my car keys off the table. “Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Mint.”
Always the rebel that one.
When I got to the store, I found cheerleader Priscilla lost in a magazine again. Oddly enough, she didn’t even need to look up to know I was in the room. “Back again?” she said.
“Do you have peeping holes through that magazine or are you just magically gifted?” I asked as I approached her.
“You drive an offensively bright yellow Bug. You may as well scream you’re coming.”
&nb
sp; “You don’t like it? I think it has character.”
“The debate is, what kind of character?”
“I’ll probably be here a lot, since my grandma has random cravings every time the wind blows a different direction.”
“God, I hate old people.”
“Surprising,” I sarcastically remarked. “Where’s your ice cream?”
“In the freezer.”
So. Very. Helpful.
I found the ice cream section eventually, and had to ring up my grandma on the phone when I saw they were all out of mint. “Blue moon?” I repeated through the end of my cellphone. My phone’s signal here was so horrible that having a phone call, even to home, not break up was borderline impossible. “Did you say, Blue Moon ice cream, Grandma?” I kept repeating.
“Yes, dear.”
I scanned the selections. “They don’t have it here.”
“Try mint, dear.”
“Grandma, that’s why I’m calling, remember? Because they’re out.”
“What? I can’t understand you.”
“No mint. I repeat, there is no mint.”
“Snow mint? What is that? I’ll try it.”
I almost bit my phone in half. “How about I surprise you?”
“A surprise? Oh, I love surprises. Sure, dear.”
“Love you lots,” I said and then hung up. I didn’t know what to get so I grabbed vanilla, and just to be safe some chocolate syrup.
I had to wait in line behind a really tall deputy who was grabbing a few things to eat. He looked to be somewhere in his early thirties with a lean frame and really dark hair, and dark eyes that kept glancing back at me.
“Hello,” he eventually said and gave a quick nod. It looked like he wanted to tip his hat, but there wasn’t one there.
“Hi,” I said back to him.
I was surprised when he abruptly turned toward me and offered a hand. “I haven’t seen you around here before. I’m Deputy Jason Wilson.” He then shook my hand. “Are you new?”
“I’m Cora Nash. I’m staying with my grandma for a few weeks.”
“Nash,” he said in a thoughtful manner. “You Wendy’s granddaughter?”
“Yep.”
“No kidding,” he responded with a chuckle. “I run into her from time to time. Mostly at bingo halls. She’s a sweet lady. Very interesting.”
I knew that was the polite code for weird. “She’s one of a kind.”
“I’ll say.”
“Your change,” Priscilla called out in a dreary tone, her hand extended out like a zombie with a few dollars and quarters between her fingers. Deputy Wilson took his money and the brown paper bag full of his items. Once everything was in place, he said to me, “If you ever need anything.”
“Thanks.”
The deputy left.
“So many boy scouts,” Priscilla commented with a headshake.
I plunked the ice cream and syrup down in front of her. “He drives a car that has blinking lights on it. I haven’t seen too many boy scouts drive something like that.”
“He’s just a professional boy scout.”
“With a gun.”
“Whatever.”
“I don’t know, it seems like there’s some interesting characters around. Like Joe,” I said, and Priscilla only fleetingly glanced up at me in between bagging my food. “Are you aware that Joe is tied up to a tree out in the woods?”
“Joe who?” Priscilla asked in a very uninterested way.
“I don’t actually know his last name. Brown hair, brown eyes, um... he wears… pants.” I was terrible at giving descriptions.
“Oh, Hippie Joe. At least he finally got tied down to someone he loves.”
I pointed at her and chuckled. “Ha, good one.”
“Why am I supposed to care that he’s humping trees?”
“I think the term is hugging trees.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m supposed to get the word going. You know, send a message.”
“Too bad for Joe, I’m busy not caring.”
“Oh, come on. I think what he’s doing is kind of exciting.”
“You know what’s exciting? Explosions. Lots of giant, fuel engulfed explosions. Some guy resting against a tree all day? Not so much.”
“What if the tree was exploding?”
“Then it might grab my interest.”
“See, I always knew you had a crush on Joe,” I joked.
Priscilla rolled her eyes. “God, you’re lame.”
I took the groceries home and for that night, I was like a god to Grandma. We scooped ourselves some bowls and swirled the chocolate in to our delight. She told me stories I had heard a dozen times and I made up a few that she believed. It was a good night for us. That was until I slipped under the covers of my bed and tried to get some sleep.
The heat that night was unbearable. The air was thick with humidity and I had gone long past the stage of sweating and now felt like my skin had a thick layer of goo on it. I had to wear nothing but a tank top and short shorts, and tie my hair up into a tight bun so nothing would touch my skin. I didn’t know how the animals were taking it, but I felt like I had literally swallowed the sun. I wanted to tear my skin off.
I tossed and turned in bed endlessly, going back and forth between being under the covers and lying on top of them. I was always the type to snuggle up into a ball of blankets and fall asleep, but now it felt like a sauna in here.
I had a box fan set up in the window, but all it seemed to be doing was blowing hot air into my room, so I crawled out of bed, retrieved it, and planted it right at the head of my bed. At least I could get some circulating air around my face as I slept. It seemed to do the trick because, within minutes, I was able to fall asleep.
But then something weird happened. I abruptly woke up.
My eyes popped open as though someone were standing at the foot of my bed shaking me. I looked around my room, the lighting a dark blue from the moon outside, the stuffed dead animals peering at me with button eyes. I felt uneasy. Almost watched. I hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night feeling that way since I was a little girl afraid of the boogeyman in the closet.
Suddenly, I heard a howl. I leapt out of my bed so fast, I got my foot tangled up in the blanket and nearly tripped. It wasn’t that a howling animal scared me, it was that this howl didn’t sound like a mere animal. It was low and heavy, whaling like it was in pain. I could practically feel the bass of its voice hitting me like the next door neighbor were blasting their stereo. It didn’t sound far away enough. It didn’t sound small enough.
I pressed my hand to my chest and felt my heart pounding horribly through sweat soaked skin. I didn’t know how long I had been sleeping, but I managed to drench my top with perspiration. It was like my body was afraid of what my brain wasn’t acknowledging. Then I heard the howl again, only this time it sounded closer. And angrier. Now I was panting and quivering. I was deathly afraid it was sitting outside my bedroom window, and the second I approached, I would see it through the screen staring up at me with vicious hungry eyes. I was scaring myself shitless.
All I could do was stare at the screen of my window from a distance, anticipating at any moment, I would see something emerge from the darkness. It was so black from the thick trees around the house that I couldn’t make anything out. That and I was half awake. I knew something had to be done, so I crawled away from my bed very slowly and, with the most terrified steps, approached the window once more. The wind howled through the trees so loudly, it was like a person was talking to me. I felt like a kid again with how much fear I was experiencing, it was ridiculous. I held my breath as though doing so would make me invisible, and then with a burst ran to my window and pulled down the shades. I jumped back onto my bed like the floor was lava and waited for a follow up sound.
But there was nothing. No howling. No growling. Just silence.
I had managed to evade the creepiness, but suffice it to say, I slept with one eye open that ni
ght.
CHAPTER THREE
That morning, I packed a few sandwiches, juice boxes, and some napkins inside a brown paper bag for Joe, just as I had promised. I was going to pack yogurt, but thought all the swarming bugs around him might land in it and there goes a perfectly good yogurt. I wasn’t really sure why I felt so compelled to help the guy out when I barely knew him, but perhaps it was the animal lover inside of me wanting to lend a hand to someone way more bold and brave than I ever could be. Sure I lived a vegetarian life, but I always felt like I could do more. I guess you could say Joe inspired me.
Even though I was tired as hell, I tried to put the previous night out of my head. Nothing was outside my bedroom window, and had someone been with me, they would have thought I was an idiot. Besides, if Joe can manage being out in the woods with all the noise, what business do I have being a chicken?
Joe was just where I had left him, tied to the same tree with the same look of confusion and exhaustion on his face. He must not have heard me at first because when I broke a twig beneath my shoe, his whole body jumped and his face went pale.
“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me,” I said calmly with my hands thrown up. “Remember? Cora, from the other day.”
“Yes, yes, I remember you,” he said apologetically.
“You look like you seen a ghost.”
“I feel like I have.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
I retrieved a sandwich from my paper bag. “Does peanut butter and jelly work?”
“It’s all right.”
“So, should I feed it to you or...?”
“I can do it.”
“Okay,” I said and unwrapped it from its package. I put it into Joe’s hand, which was caught up between a looped rope, and then watched as he struggled to raise it to his mouth. I volunteered to help, but he kept claiming he had it under control.
“Must be boring out here alone,” I noted.
“I count my bug bites for fun.”
“That sounds pleasant,” I sarcastically remarked. “If you want, I can come out here and reenact some movies for you. I’m no Meryl Streep, but I do a pretty decent Die Hard interpretation. Yippee k—”
“I don’t like Die Hard.”
“You don’t?” I asked, and disappointment overtook me. I really wanted to do my Bruce Willis impression. “Why not?”
Lunar Rampage (Lunar Rampage Series Book 1) Page 4
