by Sara Clancy
Benton jerked when he felt something touch his arm. Heat radiated from Nicole’s hand, burning his skin, a painful salvation. She inched her fingers along his palm, coaxing him to release his grip on the thermos and accept the comfort she offered. He tilted his hand slightly and she threaded her fingers with his own. Instantly, he clenched tightly to the searing warmth and released a shaky sigh as the agonizing throb began to soften.
His skin crawled, as the sensation of being watched intensified. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep his eyes closed as his paranoid thoughts began to whirl out of control, conjuring up a thousand options of what could be lurking on the other side of the window. Nicole pressed as close to him as she could, without drawing any unwanted attention, and he quickly chugged down the coffee. Its temperature seemed to climb with every swallow until he was sure his throat was blistering. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep the chill from returning. Sitting as still as his quivering body would allow, he longed once again for them to be alone. It was better when it was just the two of them, when he could tell her what was happening, what he was seeing and feeling, without worrying about being overheard. Now, all he could do was clench his jaw shut, and endure the concern that he felt drifting from her like waves.
The hours stretched on and he restlessly shifted in his seat with growing discomfort. With time, it wasn’t just the cold. Two very large coffees, in a short period of time, kept him awake but weren’t very compatible with long car trips. While it served as a good distraction from the hateful gazes and his skin turning to ice, the more he focused on it, the more desperately he needed to pee. Nicole’s hand felt like the only point of reality left for him, and he clung to it above all else. A shaky sigh of pure relief left his trembling lips as the bus came to a halt. He had made it.
“Okay, guys,” Dorothy called out over the restless crowd. “Same rules as always. Move in groups, only go to the store and back, and you have fifteen minutes max.”
Benton’s insides churned and his grip tightened on Nicole’s hand. “We’re not there?”
“No,” she whispered. “We’re just making a pit stop.”
He could barely bring himself to breathe the words, “How long have we got until we get there?”
It didn’t matter that she squeezed his hand and sympathetically rubbed his forearm with her free one. Her reply still gutted him.
“We’re about halfway.”
He snapped around to face her, the moment of dread flinging his eyes open before he remembered why that would be a bad idea. They had been enclosed for so long that the minimal light stung his eyes as they struggled to adjust. Despite his fears, he didn’t find himself face to face with a glaring shadow.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one in need of a little relief, since the bus was quickly emptying. No one paid them any attention, but he still kept his voice low anyway.
“I don’t want to be here,” he said.
She met his soft tone, “Me neither.” A warm smile crossed her face. “Here’s the plan. You hit the restroom and get back on the bus. I’ll see what I can find in the restaurant that can warm you up. Okay?”
He was too cold and uncomfortable to even reply, so he simply nodded, yanked the remaining earpiece free, and tossed it onto the seat. Mercifully, she didn’t let go of his hand as they made their way out of the bus.
Blundering down the few stairs, Benton got off the bus and got his first look at the truck stop. Sitting atop a sea of concrete, the structure was relatively new, with only fifteen years of wear at the most. The main parts, behind two rows of gas pumps big enough to accommodate long haul trucks, were covered with fake wood planks to give it the appearance of a log cabin. A blue neon diner sign was placed in the window, the gathering gloom turning the light into a smudged halo. Narrow standalone cabins speckled the clearing on either side of the main building, most of them drenched in the gathering shadows. A sickly hum above them made him lift his gaze, and he noticed the large neon sign marking the place as ‘Lost Woods Motel.’
As a bid to distract him, Nicole had been continuously talking. He was vaguely aware of her telling him that the motel had been opened as a way to give people walking the road, a safe place to spend the night. But all of the finer details were lost to the mist in his brain. The rest of what she was saying floated as he looked up to see the owls that swamped the dark sky and filled the surrounding trees like a swarm of insects. Nicole took a few steps. Benton didn’t. She noticed quickly and turned to give him a questioning look.
“I thought you said the trip was only a few hours,” he mumbled.
She tilted her head in confusion. “It is.”
He sucked in a deep breath, the warmth of the air drawing down into his core, as he closed his eyes.
“It’s not dusk, is it?” he asked, feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat.
“Benton, it’s two PM,” she said gently. She edged closer to him and lowered her voice into a whisper. “What do you see?”
As he forced his eyes open, he looked over the swirling darkness that lingered over the area like a living creature. The sudden rush of sheer dread that the sight provoked, made him dizzy. If it weren’t for his desperate need to get into a restroom, he would have given into his urge to rush back into the bus and curl into a tight ball. Barely able to bring himself to meet her gaze, he shook his head quickly, his voice cracking as he whispered.
“This isn’t a good place.”
She quickly came back to his side and recaptured his frozen hand.
“In and out,” she promised.
He nodded. Together, they raced across the lot. The door to the diner opened with the tinkle of a bell above the door. Instantly, they were met by the smoky scents of burgers and fries. While there were only ten teenagers in total, they seemed to fill the limited space that served as both a souvenir and a gas station shop. With an impressive amount of noise, they grabbed at bags of junk food, and studied the odds and ends that filled every tourist trap. Meeting Nicole’s gaze, he yanked his wallet out of his pockets and pulled out a few bills.
“Coffee, please,” he said.
She was already moving towards the annexed diner as she snatched the bills out of his hand. “Don’t take this as approval of your addiction.”
Benton rolled his eyes, but enjoyed the attempt at lightening the mood. A quick scan of the room and he found the sign for the toilets off in the corner. The bathroom was old but clean, with only two stalls and pale walls. Even though he had to impatiently wait for his turn, there was still a line when he was done. He was washing up when he discovered just how good their hot water system was.
The steaming water sloshing over his frozen hands felt incredible and he wallowed in the luxury of having his blood running into his fingers once again. Once they felt warm and plump, he pulled off his sunglasses and washed his face. The sensation made pins-and-needles crackle across his lips and cheeks. He kept splashing the water over his face until the pain subsided and he was feeling less like a living snowman.
Turning off the tap, he blindly tugged a few paper towels from the dispenser and dried himself off. The rough edges of the paper scraped across his cheek when the sensation of being watched came back with a higher intensity. His now sensitive skin made the shift in temperature instantly noticeable. It was an encroaching warmth, as if someone was standing right behind him, almost draped against his curled spine. A heavy sigh brushed past his ear, the moisture of the breath clinging to his skin.
Benton whirled around, one arm striking out to shove back the person crowded against him. The bathroom was empty. The low drone of the florescent lights broke the silence as the lingering traces of a person’s body heat evaporated from his back. Throwing the wadded paper into the sink, he strode towards the door, grabbing the doorknob just as a hand latched around his ankle.
One swift jerk and he was wretched off of his feet. He was barely able to break his fall as he was slammed down painfully against the tiles. Before he could understand wha
t had just happened, he was being dragged back. He clawed at the floor but couldn’t find something to grip. Hands grappled their way up his legs, their fingers digging against his tender flesh with an iron grasp. He thrashed out, kicking sharply, but his feet never found anything solid.
The hands reached his hips and easily flipped him onto his back. He bolted upright and saw her. A woman was crawling her way out of the floor, her movements swift but broken as she hurled herself higher up his body. Muddy clumps of earth dripped from her skin and thumped against his stomach. Her hair, matted and reeking of rot, swayed with the jolts of her limbs. Rearing up to level her face with Benton’s, the woman opened her mouth and spewed wet earth over his chest.
It hit him like arctic water, startling him out of his stunned state and igniting his survival instinct. He shoved her off and surged to his feet. The soles of his shoes slipped and skidded over the muck covered tiles making him stumble as he tried to flee to the door. Flinging it open, he threw himself out, smacked into someone, and turned around to catch sight of the woman crawling after him just as the door swung shut.
“What the hell, Benny-boy?” Zack snapped, his voice lingering somewhere between annoyed and amused. “It’s a door. You’ve used them before.”
Breathing heavily, he swiped his trembling hands over his chest. His jacket was clean. His eyes locked onto the bathroom door.
“What is wrong with you?” Zack asked.
He walked around Benton and opened the door before Benton could do more than grunt in protest. The brightly lit room was empty, the tiled floor clean. Zack glanced over his shoulder. Whatever he was going to say faded along with his smirk.
“Seriously,” Zack’s voice became concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“I tripped,” Benton muttered. “Sorry.”
He barely took a step forward before Zack’s hand grabbed his forearm.
“I know you think I’m an idiot, but I can tell the difference between startled and scared.”
Benton pulled his arm free and raced back to the safety of the bus. He didn’t turn back even as Zack yelled after him.
Chapter 3
Cradling the plush toy in her hands, Nicole lifted it until the beak of the loon bird hovered about an inch beside Benton’s face. She waited for him to stop shivering to notice that she was watching him, and he turned his head slightly. He jolted the second he saw the toy so close to his face and muttered a curse.
“Loon,” she cooed, until the word was longer than it should have been.
He shook his head.
She pushed up the toy’s wing. “Wing five.”
That was the tipping mark and he sputtered a laugh. Finally, a smile crossed his face, replacing the pinched expression that he had worn ever since he had bolted from the store.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered.
While they weren’t the most flattering words, they were the first ones he had spoken in a bit over two hours, so she took it as a victory. Bringing the toy back down into his lap, she shrugged.
“I’m just playing to my audience.”
He cast her a sharp look before rolling his eyes. Benton couldn’t exactly be called tanned, but his skin always had a healthy, pinkish hue that prevented him from being pale. Now he looked like ice. His lips were rimmed blue, and the dark shadows under his eyes were like deep bruises that went down to his bone. There hadn't been many edibles in the shop, so she had bought coffee, and a basket of fries, of which she ended up eating half. She also bought some cheap red mittens that she doubted were doing much good. About an hour ago, people had started to take notice and offered him their jackets to use as blankets. He had several piled onto him, but he was still visibly shaking, looking like he had just come out of a snowstorm.
“Why did you get that?” he asked, eyeing the toy bird with suspicion.
A smile crossed her face. “Tradition. Every time I had to make this trip, my dad would buy me a toy. I’m going to take a picture of myself with it and send it to him when we get cell reception again.”
“There’s no reception out here?” he asked, his teeth chattering around each word.
Meg twisted around and rested her chin on the back of the seat. “We’re going to get it right after we get on that bus route. You look horrible.”
Benton arched an eyebrow. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Seriously, it’s not even that cold. How are you going to survive the winter?”
“Indoors,” he snapped and snuggled deeper under the jackets.
Danny turned around to join the conversation. For a moment, the twins vied for space on the small bench seats, then Danny smiled and gave Nicole a little knowing smile.
“Speaking of traditions,” she said, obviously trying to recapture Benton’s attention before he fell back into silence, “are we raiding the vending machine again?”
Zack was instantly in on the conversation. He hopped across the slim aisle, pushing and squishing the twins until they made enough room for him to sit.
“Candy and ghost stories. A tradition worth keeping,” he grinned.
“Great,” Danny chirped. “This is going to be fun! We might actually have new stories.”
“How?” Meg barked a laugh.
“Because we have a new addition to the group,” Danny said, as she gestured to Benton.
He peeked over the edge of the jackets before scrunching up closer to the window.
“Oh, he seems like he’ll be a pile of fun,” Meg muttered.
Danny smacked her arm.
“I’m sure he knows something scary,” Zack said, easily reaching over the back of the chair and swatting Benton’s leg. “Come on, Benny-boy. Tell me something scary.”
Nicole pushed his arm away before he could whack Benton again. No one actually expected him to answer. He was still hidden, pressed to the side of the bus, his voice a vacant mutter.
“Allison Conway.”
Nicole’s chest squeezed with a painful clench as she flicked her eyes across the others. They all shared the same look. She didn’t know what to say until Benton continued, “Someone said her name in the store. They said it weird. Anyone ever heard of her?”
Nicole was quick to answer. “She’s one of the missing girls I was telling you about.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she realized the importance of the question. He had seen her. And there had been something in the encounter that had truly terrified him.
***
Leaving that stretch of the highway was like stepping out of a freezer. The air within his little fortress of jackets instantly became humid and stale. He gulped down the warm air until he could feel it thawing the ice that had gathered around his bones. Timidly, he sat up straighter, poked his head out of the layers of jackets and glanced out the window. Life flooded the valley below them with massive buildings and a large scattering of homes. Cars sped around them, while dark, heavy clouds rolled in to cover the sky. It released a menacing rumble of thunder as the bus jerked to a stop. It was the first time in months that he had seen a stop light.
Next to Fort Wayward, the small town of Peace Springs looked like a sprawling metropolis, even if a noticeable few buildings were standing vacant.
The lights changed and Dorothy drove the bus around the corner, passing by a brightly lit Tim Horton and entering into the vast parking lot of a hotel. She pulled up in one of the lots in front of the door and instantly stood up. It took her a few attempts to get the attention of the suddenly restless crowd.
“Remember,” she said, each word brimming with authority. “This hotel is under no obligation to give us such a great discount. If they change their minds, we will be stuck using the hotel on the far side of town.”
Benton had no idea what was wrong with that other place, but everyone made it clear with grumbles and groans that it was a horrible option.
“We are not to abuse their hospitality. Act like adults.”
With a chorus of agreement, everyone started to gather their
things at a more relaxed pace. People collected their jackets as they passed. Benton thanked them, grateful to get rid of the stifling heat, and smiled when they commented that he was looking a lot better. Nicole practically beamed at him as they waited for everyone else to clear out. He cringed at the looks Zack and the twins shot him as they headed off.
“They’re not going to let this go,” Benton muttered as they followed.
It was hard to put as much venom into the words as he had wanted to. After the last few hours, he felt near ecstatic just to be able to move his fingers properly. He hopped off the bus with a bit more enthusiasm and took a deep breath of the fresh air. It filled his nostrils, laced with the energy of the approaching storms and the scent of coffee and donuts.
He smiled at her. “Think they’ll believe I have a medical condition?”
“You kind of do,” she teased as they rounded the bus. “Has that ever happened before?”
Benton shook his head.
“Maybe it’s like one of those compensation things,” Nicole said. “Like when someone goes blind and their hearing gets better. You’re not dreaming so you’re becoming more sensitive to other things.”
It was impossible to keep from smirking just a little. “Now, that’s a scientific statement, Rider.”
She spun around to face him, walking backwards and jabbing him in the chest with the loon. “You just don’t like admitting you have feelings. Or that I’m right.”
“I have plenty of feelings. Annoyance is one that comes to mind.” His words trailed off when he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes.
A green sedan was parked on the far side of the lot, the beginnings of rust cutting along the edges of the metal, a slight dent creating a thin crack along one of the taillights. Nicole walked beside him and followed his gaze.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Communication, Benton,” she reminded in a sing-song tone.
“The green car,” he said, no longer sure if he should be scowling or smiling. “Something about it.” At a loss for how else to explain it, he just shrugged.
