by J. R. Tate
I look in the direction of the voice – it’s in the same area where I thought I saw someone, but again, I’m alone.
“Who is there?” I ask out loud, my voice shaking.
“It’s me, Rusty…”
It sounds like my mom, but with the wind blowing through the trees, I can’t be certain. And then the vacant chair begins to move, and not just from the breeze. It appears as if the full weight of someone is in it, and it rocks back and forth – the wood rubbing against the slats on the porch. I sit there, in a daze, unsure of what to do. Skeptics would say the wind caught it, but if you could see it, you’d know. There’s definitely someone sitting there and the wood creaks and moans under the weight of whoever or whatever is sitting there.
I stand and take a few steps back, still unable to keep my eyes off of it. My heart thumps in my chest, faster than when I’ve run a few miles, and I hope that Britney gets here soon.
“Don’t be scared, Rusty. We’ll all be together again soon.”
What in the hell is that supposed to mean? I continue to back up until I run into a pillar on the porch, but I still can’t take my eyes off of the rocking chair that has come to life before me.
“We’ll all be together again soon?” I ask, though I don’t know why. Maybe I don’t want to know what she means by it.
“We will. Just you wait and see.”
Time is relative to the dead, right? I’ve heard that on shows and read it in books. Soon could mean one hundred years in their eyes. At least, that’s what I have to tell myself.
I’m finally able to take my eyes off of the rocking chair, and my pulse settles when I see bright headlights coming down the long driveway. I can’t tell if it’s Britney’s car or not, but it has to be. I can’t handle any more weird things happening. I glance back at the chair and it has completely stopped moving, squashing any hope that it was the wind. Turning back to the driveway, the car is close enough for me to tell that it is Britney, and I’ve never been happier to see another human being.
I climb into the passenger seat and slam the door, taking another hard look back at the house. The chair isn’t moving, just like I left it, and I try to control my panic. Britney has no clue about any of this, so I can only imagine what is running through her head at the sight of me freaking out. I’d like to think I’m hiding it well, but by her facial expression, I’m failing miserably at it.
“Rusty, what is wrong?”
I guess there’s no way around it. She has to know, and now is my chance to fill her in on the circus that I call life. Taking a deep breath, I glance at the rear view mirror and watch as the house fades behind some trees.
“It’s a long story.”
I look around as we near the highway, thinking there will be a road-block or barricade and I try to come off as relaxed. To my surprise, there is no one there, but I am still not comfortable with the idea that no one is watching. There is no traffic, and without the light of the moon shining down on us, it would be pitch black, adding to my freak out.
“I’ve got all night, Rusty. Where are we going?”
“Downtown. You cool with picking my dad up?” Without the details, it sounds convoluted. Another girlfriend gone, but at the moment, I don’t give a damn. My priority is my father and saving what is left of my family.
“Yeah, but Rusty, why are we needing to pick up your dad, and where is he?”
Turning to face her, I strum a finger through a strand of her hair and force a smile. “You better strap in for this. I’ll explain it on the way.”
***
Nathan
I pace back and forth in my hotel room and when I receive Rusty’s phone call that he’s on his way, my nerves settle a bit. I hate feeling like I’m an escaped convict, but that’s exactly how I’m treating this situation – I could walk out of here tonight and get taken back to the hospital. Rusty didn’t mention anything about finding anything out on Dr. Clint, but he seemed distracted, and with his girlfriend there, I can only imagine the fun he’s having in explaining what is going on.
Sitting on the bed, I look at the blank TV. Something moves in the reflection, and I close my eyes, unwilling to interact with any souls, ghosts, demons, or negative energy around me. None of them have given me the information I need to help them and I’m at my wits end when it comes to everything.
I note the time on the alarm clock. It’s about a thirty-minute drive in from out where the house is, and it’s been about twenty minutes since Rusty called. With management already watching me closely, I figure it’s best to meet him downstairs, rather than have him come up. If I do one thing they don’t like, they’ll make phone calls I don’t want to mess with right now.
I double check the room and make sure nothing is out of place. I’ve only been here a few hours, and aside from the shower, I haven’t done anything else. For safe measure, I fold up the used towels and put them on the edge of the tub. Everything looks about the way it was when I came in, and I turn off the lights and make my exit.
I hesitate as I reach the elevator. A family of four gets off, all of them laughing as they turn down an adjacent hallway and away from me. Do I really want to chance having some type of occurrence on it again? I’d rather not get trapped inside a small box with something again.
I find the stairs and hurry down them, though the voices around me are getting louder. With each step I take, I hear them calling my name, and the longer I ignore them, the more intense they get. There are more than one, and Rose’s voice is blended with those of others that I can’t quite make out. It’s gone from Sammy and Rose, to other voices I can’t make out, and when I swing the first floor door open, they’re gone.
I step out into the lobby and the same manager who warned me about calling the cops is still there, looking up from his computer. He has the phone cradled on his shoulder and he ends the call, hanging it up with a loud clack.
“Everything okay, Mister?” he asks, looking cautious as I walk past.
“Everything is fine. I’m stepping out to get some fresh air.” It feels ridiculous, having to justify my every move. It’s like I’m being babysat, but I guess I am. They did do me a huge favor in allowing me to stay given the circumstances.
I point toward the entrance and hurry to the sidewalk. The air is cool and crisp, and I can smell fall in the air. I’ve never taken the time to listen to the nighttime sounds of the city, at least not like I am right now – a distant car honking, a bar down the street with the live music thumping, and of course, the traffic on the freeway nearby. Leaning back against the building, I take a deep breath. There is no one around – the streets are dead, but I’m very paranoid. I wish Rusty would hurry up. I want to get home and move this along.
I hear a car approaching and I squint from the headlights. I don’t recognize it and it slows to the curb. It has to be Rusty and his girlfriend, but I can’t remember what kind of car she has. I hope it’s them, because if it’s someone looking for me, I’m screwed. Pushing off the wall, I’m ready to run just in case, but the passenger side door opens and Rusty hops out, hurrying toward me.
He wraps his arms around me, hugging me the tightest he ever has. I hug back and glance over his shoulder – Britney hasn’t gotten out of the car, and I’m glad about that. I need to get on the same base with him and see how much he’s told her.
“Thanks for coming to get me, Russ.” I break the embrace and adjust my baseball cap.
“I uhh…” he trails off, swiping his finger under his eye. “I pretty much told her everything, Dad.”
“And she still came? That’s impressive,” I respond, trying to smile, but it hurts. It’s like I shouldn’t have that kind of emotion right now.
“She did. I’m not sure what she’s thinking. I’m not sure how much she believes. She’s been pretty quiet since, but she’s here, and she’s our only way of getting you home before the sun comes up.”
“Anyone stop you on your way out?”
He shakes his head. “No. The highway was empty.�
�
We walk to the car and I wave at Britney. She returns the gesture, but her face is stoic and Rusty is right – there is no way to read what is going through her head. I don’t expect her to be cool about it. If I were in her shoes, I’d have run off, never to talk to Rusty again.
“I guess it’s best for me to still hide in the trunk. I don’t want to make it this far and screw it up by something easily prevented.”
Britney pops the trunk and Rusty and I both look down in it.
“I hope you fit. You’re pretty tall,” Rusty says, pointing down.
“At least it’s not a small sport’s car,” I say, grimacing at the cramped, dark hole I’ll be in for the next thirty to forty-five minutes. I pat Rusty on the back. “I’ll just pretend I’m going into a hole to save someone.” It’s then that I realize how much I miss work, and it dawns on me that I haven’t even been in contact with my chief. It’s another worry tacked onto everything else, but at this moment, getting me home takes precedence over anything else.
My body aches as I maneuver it in positions I’ve never been in before. Curling into the fetal position, I’m finally inside enough for them to be able to close the lid, and though I’m not comfortable, it’s the best I can do.
“See you back at the house,” Rusty says, slamming the trunk closed with a loud thud.
It’s pitch black and the air is thick. I try not to let my imagination get the best of me. I’m typically not claustrophobic, but when the voices start in again, I’m two steps away from panicking. I close my eyes but it won’t help. I even try to put my hands over my ears to hope muffle some of it, but like on the stairs at the hotel, everything just gets louder.
“Nathan! You son of a bitch! We’re going to make sure and kill you slow!”
It’s another voice I’m not familiar with, and I even if I wanted to, I can’t move. My legs are contorted like a damn pretzel, but maybe the darkness is working for me. Maybe it’s best I’m not actually seeing who or what is talking to me.
“We can’t wait to finish this job…”
An evil laugh echoes and I wonder if Rusty can hear all of this. I want to respond to them, but the fact that Britney is close by makes me clamp my jaw shut.
A sharp, stinging pain strikes my cheek and the sound of flesh ripping makes me grunt out in pain. I feel droplets flow and when I reach up, though I can’t see it, I know it’s blood. It streams down my face to my lips, and the metallic flavor confirms that I’ve got a huge gash on my face. How will I explain it?
“Please, go away. I am helping. I’m headed home to help right now.” I keep my voice a very quiet whisper, hoping the sounds from the car are enough to hide my conversation from both Rusty and Britney. My body moves with the inertia from the car turning, and I try to estimate where we might be. Time is relative right now, and it’s unnerving to think of how senses get so thrown off when you can’t see anything.
“We could kill you right now. You have nowhere to go.”
Gritting my teeth, I run my finger over my injured cheek, cringing at the ache that is morphing into a massive headache.
“If you’re gonna kill me, go ahead and fucking do it.” It’s a whisper, but an angry whisper and I feel like I’ve said this a lot in the past twenty-four hours.
The evil laugh returns and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. And then everything falls silent. The hum of the highway is present and nothing else. Sighing, I close my eyes and the vibration above the tires relaxes me enough that if time allowed, I could probably doze for a bit.
But there’s no time for sleeping – as soon as I get out of this trunk, it’s time to get down to business and stop all of this, once and for all. I have no real plan on what to do, but come hell or high water, I’m damn sure going to give my best to try and figure it out.
Chapter Eleven
Rusty
Britney is still very quiet on our drive back to the house. I’ve explained everything as best as I could, but I know she still has a ton of questions, and I don’t blame her. The fact that my father is in the trunk of the car makes my nerves even more on edge, and he’s thumping around back there – what if he can’t breathe and we are slowly smothering him? What if the exhaust from the tailpipe is wafting in and doing the job? Can that happen?
I can’t risk exposing him now, and with our house just a few miles down, I tough it out. I can still hear him, so I know he’s alive. I expect to see a cop as we turn down the driveway, but just like when we left, there is no one there. Do they even send out a search party for something like this? Or do they chalk it up as something out of their hands and move on? It seems like something a caseworker would handle, and I bet we get a visit by one in the morning.
I reach for Britney’s hand as she rests it on the gearshift, nodding my head. “Thanks for doing this.”
She puts the car in park and turns to face me and I can’t tell if she’s on the brink of a smile or if she’s about to cry. Our relationship is likely over. But it’s a small sacrifice in the scheme of the whole picture.
“I’ve never had to smuggle my boyfriend’s dad home in my trunk. I’ve never really been involved in a real life scary story, but here we are. I’m skeptical, I will admit that. But you’re probably one of the coolest, stable guys I know, so if you say this is all happening, who am I to say it’s not?”
Her words surprise me. Maybe I’m assuming too fast. Leaning in, I kiss her, tasting her minty gum as my tongue pushes past her teeth. And as soon as the moment hits, it fades when I remember my dad is curled up like a yo-yo in the trunk, waiting to be rescued from the cramped position.
Britney pops the lid and I lean over the edge, aiding in pulling him out. He falls to the ground below, kicking up dust as he gains his footing. He seems frazzled, but who wouldn’t be after a thirty-minute ride like that? Looking up at me, I notice the fresh gashes on his cheek along with the blood smeared on his skin.
“Dad? What happened?” I can’t remember if he had those before, but something tells me he didn’t. I definitely would’ve noticed it.
He glances over at Britney and hesitates to say anything. “Let’s get in the house.” Looking toward the highway, I know he’s trying to spot the possibility of someone watching, though I’m not sure why. You can’t see the road from where we are.
We go up the steps and slam the door, and he paces in front of the couch, his hair disheveled and his clothes tattered.
“Something attacked me in the trunk.”
I look at Britney whose eyes are as wide as saucers. She’ll never want to drive that car again.
“Something attacked you?” I ask.
“Yeah. I don’t know who or what it was. I couldn’t recognize the voice. But you have to get her out of here. You need to go stay with her. They’re hostile and I can’t let anything happen to either of you.”
I stand up and shake my head no. “I’ll make sure Britney gets home safe, but I’m not leaving you. What if a caseworker comes tomorrow? If I don’t divert them, they’ll want to check the house. You won’t be able to hide forever.”
“I don’t plan to. Did you…” He looks toward Britney again, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable around her. “Did you find out about Dr. Clint?” His voice is frantic and he needs to calm down before we get anything done.
“Hold that thought, Dad. Britney, come outside with me. I’m gonna make sure you get home safely.”
We go out on the porch and I pull her in for a tight hug. “I appreciate your help tonight. But I think we’ll be more productive if you go. He’s worried about your safety and I am too.”
Britney looks at the ground and back up. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
“Yes. If we work together, things will be fine. Keep your phone on in case I need you again.”
She holds it up, palming it in her hand. “I’ll have it right by me at all times. Text me and keep me updated. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I will.”
&
nbsp; She starts to walk away, but my fingers intertwine with hers and I pull her back, unwilling to let her go. I fan my hand down her long, silky hair and kiss her again. She pulls away first and smiles as she bites her bottom lip.
“Please don’t tell anyone.” I don’t think she will, but I say it for safe measure.
“Your secret is safe with me. Talk to you soon.”
She hurries down the steps and I watch until her taillights can no longer be seen. Hurrying back in the house, I spot my dad in the kitchen, standing over a bottle of vodka that hasn’t been opened.
“Dad?”
Looking up, he smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna drink it. You think you can help me clean these scratches? They already feel like they’re getting infected.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have any peroxide our anything?”
“If we do it’s packed away and I don’t feel like digging for it.” He extends a washcloth. “Gonna burn like a bitch but it’s better than having a nasty scar.”
I dab some of the liquor on the cloth. “To answer your question, I came up empty on doing a search for Dr. Clint. Nothing but old articles about Sunset Canyon came up. And of course, some of his research articles. But nothing current about where he might be now.” I pause as I reach toward him, rubbing the edges of the cloth on the wound, probably cringing worse than he does. He takes over, putting pressure against it.
“Damn. We’ve really gotta find him.”
“What about the therapist you’ve been seeing for work? Can’t she vouch for you? Didn’t you say she was starting to believe you?”
He pulls the cloth away and sets it on the counter, ducking his head. “I can’t get anyone with the department involved. Hell, I don’t even know if I have a job. I’m sure the mental health authority in town has contacted my chief and let them know I ran. He can’t keep saving my ass. And this is probably way past the limit on any chances they’ll give me.”
“Even if you can prove you’re sane?”
Shrugging, he balls up the washrag and tosses it in the sink. “I’m starting to wonder…” trailing off, he walks back the living room and sits in the recliner with a hard thud.
