Sylvie

by Stacy Galloway

  Tom parked in Kevin’s driveway, grabbed his bags and walked through the front door. Kevin was seated in front of the laptop.

  Still looking at the screen, Kevin said, “I ordered a couple of pizzas.”

  “Thanks,” Said Tom.

  Kevin pecked at the keyboard.

  “Where should I put these?”

  “Set them anywhere.” Said Kevin.

  Tom set the bags down and sat on the couch. He opened the box and picked up the brown journal. He flipped through the pages and set it on the table.

  He watched Kevin and asked, “You all right?”

  Kevin nodded, “Tired. And just doing some more research.”

  Tom picked up the spiral notebook. He flipped it to a new page and stared at it blankly. Where to begin? He wanted to write as much of this down as he possibly could. He never pretended to be a writer and the most he usually did was lists. He thought about Bridgette. Dying, but still gathering her inner strength to write her story down. Or at least try to. Her confused words brought tears to Tom’s eyes. He willed them away. The least he could do is try. He owed that much to Bridgette and to himself. If nothing else, it would be a way to get all the facts written down. He glanced up at Kevin who was intently reading something on the screen.

  Tom picked up a pen, thought back to the morning, and wrote out his story. The words flowed easily and he was surprised at how quickly he was done. He didn’t duplicate what had been written in the letter or journals. He merely referenced them. Still his story was two pages long. Pleased with himself, he re-read it intending to write the ending after they caught Sylvie and brought Bridgette back.

  The doorbell rang.

  Kevin stood up.

  “No, let me get it,” said Tom digging out his wallet and going to the door.

  A pale young man held out two pizzas, “That’ll be $18.50, sir”

  Tom looked up surprised. He grabbed a twenty and a five and handed it to the young man and said, “For you, sir!”

  The young man smiled, pocketed the money and handed the pizzas to Tom.

  “Have a good night,” said the young man as he hurried to his car.

  “You too,” called Tom as he closed the door.

  Kevin was standing right behind him, “You always tip too much,” he said taking the pizzas.

  Tom raised his eyebrows.

  Kevin stopped and said, “Sorry, I guess I am really tired.” And then he went into the kitchen.

  Tom watched his friend walk away and shook his head. Kevin had put up with a lot of crap today. Tom knew most people would have just walked away from him and his crazy story. Tom followed Kevin into the kitchen.

  Kevin got out plates and napkins. The bottle of whiskey sat on the counter.

  “You want a beer?” Asked Kevin opening the fridge.

  “Sure,” Replied Tom

  Kevin grabbed two bottles, twisted the cap off one and handed it to Tom. He twisted the cap off the other, tossed the caps in the garbage and took a long drink.

  “Look, Kevin, I want to say thank you for today. I barged in on you and you’ve been a great help. It means a lot to me and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

  Kevin looked at Tom and nodded, “No problem, it’s what friends are for.”

  And he took another drink.

  “Have some pizza,” He said waving to the pizzas on the counter.

  Tom grabbed a plate and a few slices.

  Kevin did the same and they walked back into the living room.

  “What do we need for tomorrow?” Asked Kevin picking up his notebook.

  “Rope, flashlights, duct tape, zip ties, guns…” Replied Tom

  “How about food?”

  Tom thought about it, “At the house, we’ve got milk, eggs, bread, bologna, peanut butter, jelly, some sort of soups.”

  “We’ll get some frozen dinners, lunch meat, cheese, beer… Anything else?

  “I’d like to find my phone. If I don’t in the next day or so I’ll pick up a pay-as-you-go, but for now I’m good,” Replied Tom.

  Kevin looked at him, “You sure?”

  “Yeah, if I don’t find it tomorrow, I’ll go buy a cheapie.”

  Kevin tore out the sheet of paper. “I’ll leave this here, if either of us thinks of anything else, we can add it. We’ll pick stuff up tomorrow on the way to your place.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Help yourself to anything here. You know where the spare bedroom is, make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks,” Tom paused, “I mean it, thanks a lot man.”

  Kevin smiled, “No problem.”

  They ate a few more slices of pizza and had a few more beers. Tom was surprised when he looked at his watch and it said it was 1:00 a.m.

  Kevin pecked away at the keyboard. Tom’s eyes were starting to droop and close.

  “I’m gonna head off to bed,” said Tom picking up the bags and walking towards the spare bedroom.

  “Good night,” called Kevin

  “Good night,” responded Tom as he walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Tom turned on the light switch but nothing happened. He fumbled his way through the dark and turned on the lamp next to the bed. The light was meager in the dim room. Dark red curtains hung on the two windows shutting out any light from the outside. Tom set the bags next to the nightstand and glanced at the clock. The red digital numbers revealed that it was now 1:03. Tom sat heavily on the bed and untied his boots. He kicked them off. He took the gun and set it on the nightstand.

  He unzipped his jeans and realized he forgot to bring some shorts. He looked at the closed door, but didn’t want to bother Kevin over it. He left his jeans in a heap on top of his boots, adjusted his boxers, sighed and slid under the covers. The sheets were cool and the mattress was soft. Tom’s eyes started to close and he reached out and turned off the lamp.

  In his dream he was sitting at their kitchen table laughing with Bridgette and Kevin. Three knocks came from the cellar door. ‘I’ll get it’, said Kevin rising from his seat and standing in front of the cellar door. NO! Tom tried to shout, to jump out of his chair, but he couldn’t move. ‘I can’t move!” He said straining towards Bridgette. Kevin opened the door and a rotting corpse stood there holding the book of Locum Tenens. Tom knew it was the same entity that had touched him out in the forest. Bridgette looked horrified and shouted, ‘NO!’ She took a step and fell through the yawning black in the floor. Kevin took the book and turned towards Tom. Tom struggled violently against his invisible bonds. Strong hands choked him from behind. He couldn’t breathe and his vision grew hazy. The hands lifted him by his neck, black spots danced in front of his eyes, everything went black.

  Tom sat up, grabbing at his neck and gasping for air. Darkness surrounded him. He kicked off the blankets and lunged for the nightstand, the clock clattered to the floor. Tom grabbed the lamp, pulled it into the bed with him and switched it on. The dim light glowed through Kevin’s spare bedroom.

  Tom looked around breathing raggedly. The nightmare dissolved like tissue paper and the details danced out of his grasp. He set the lamp back on the table and collapsed back onto the pillow breathing hard. His heart slowed and after a few minutes he looked at his watch. 2:15. He’d only been asleep for a little while.

  Tom stared at the ceiling and let his thoughts drift. His throat ached when he swallowed. I’ll grab a glass of water. He cautiously opened the bedroom door and padded to the kitchen.

  There was a strange ripping sound. Tom stopped in the hallway and listened. He heard it again and it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. Tom turned the corner in time to watch Kevin rip a bed sheet.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kevin jumped. Startled, he looked at Tom, “I’m ripping sheets for… tomorrow.”

  Tom cocked his head.

  “Restraints. I thought if we were going to tie her up we should buffer the restraints somehow.” He held up a strip, “It might help with bruising. I mea
n make the bruising less noticeable.”

  Tom caught what he was trying to say.

  “Once they switch back, you don’t want bruises on Bridgette?”

  Kevin looked relieved, “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

  “So, catch her and then use these strips under the ropes….” Tom trailed off.

  “Or under the zip ties,” Kevin shrugged, “It seemed like a good idea.”

  Tom looked at Kevin. He’d always thought Kevin had a harmless crush on Bridgette.

  Tom smiled and said, “Thanks for watching out for her. I’ve got sheets at my place too.”

  “After I started, I thought towels and pillow cases would work,” Kevin looked at the strip, “But I had already ripped it up, so I figured I’d finish this one.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  “Naw, I’m almost done. This is the last one.” Kevin said.

  He tore another strip off and set it on the table. He scooped the strips together and shoved them into a plastic garbage bag. He carried the bag through the living room and set it at the front door.

  He came back to the kitchen, “So, what are you doing up?”

  “Getting a glass of water. And I could ask you the same thing. Why don’t you get some sleep? It’s been a million years since you opened your door to your crazy friend, and we’ve got some long days ahead of us.”

  Kevin smiled slightly, “I was just heading to bed. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Tom said watching his friend walk down the hallway.

  Tom poured himself a cup of water. Kevin had a crazy imagination, but he was crazy smart, too. As Tom carried the glass of water back to the spare bedroom, he thought, “I’m glad he’s my friend, I would hate to have him for an enemy.”

  Tom closed the door. He set the water on the nightstand and picked up the clock. 2:33AM. He laid down in bed leaving the lamp on. What a long day. Bridgette’s pretty face loomed in his imagination. Her soft brown eyes smiled along with her beautiful smile.

  Tom whispered, “I love you, Bridgey.” And with that he fell into a dreamless sleep.

  June 20 th 2012

  A Bleak Morning

  Tom woke up and looked at the clock. The red numerals blazed 9:07. He stretched and automatically reached out for Bridgette. His hand settled on the mattress next to him and he remembered that Bridgette was gone. Tears threatened and he blinked them back and sat up. The crimson curtains defeated any chance of sunlight making its way into the room. Tom got up, went to the window and parted the curtain. Clouds hung heavy in the gray morning sky. Lightning flashed in the distance promising a day of thunderstorms. Tom saw his old sad car parked in Kevin’s driveway. He and Bridgette planned on buying something else in the next few years. Right now they had a little pickup truck and this little four door. Both were up there in miles. For now they had agreed to drive them till they died.

  Tom let the curtain go and turned to pull on his jeans. Then, on second thought, Tom pulled the curtain open again. Kevin’s car was gone.

  Tom pulled on his jeans, tucked the gun in the back, left the room and opened the front door. Kevin’s car was nowhere to be seen. Tom closed the door and remembered the bag of bed sheet strips. It was gone too. He walked into the kitchen. The coffeepot was full and turned on. A sheet of paper sat on the counter. ‘Be right back. Kevin’ was scrawled on it. Tom pushed the paper aside. He went into the living room. Kevin’s laptop was sitting on the coffee table next to Tom’s blue spiral notebook. The box was gone.

  His heart hammered as he looked through the kitchen and living room. There was no sign of the box or the three books. Tom looked in Kevin’s bedroom. The bed was neatly made and the closet doors were closed. Tom peered under the bed. Nothing. He opened the closet. Shoes lined up neatly across the floor. Suits of various colors filled more than half the closet. Crisp shirts lined up next to the suits. A full tie rack hung on the back of the door.

  Tom closed the closet. He took another look around the room. No box. He left the room and closed the door behind him.

  He sat heavily on the couch. He jumped up and paced the room. His hand went to his pocket and he pulled out his keys. He stared at them and jammed them back into his pocket. He reached for his phone and then remembered he didn’t have it.

  He opened the front door and walked towards the street. Storm clouds hung overhead. The moist air was thick with the promise of rain. Tom looked up and down the street. The usually bustling street was eerily quiet. A lone figure made its way towards him. Even with the face covered by the hoodie, Tom could tell it was not Kevin. Too small and too thin.

  Tom looked up and down the street again but didn’t see Kevin or his car. As he turned to go back into the house, the lone figure passed by. A hand emerged with a short wave and disappeared up the black sleeve. A pale face turned towards him with a slight smile. Tom recognized the pizza boy from last night. A backpack drooped off his thin shoulders and a splash of white pressed against his chest proved to be a single rose. The boy huddled against the wind, hurried down the block and was soon out of sight. He’s probably taking a rose to his girl. Tom hoped he’d get there before the storm started. And as if on cue, lightning split the sky open. A sharp crack of thunder echoed overhead and the rain poured down.

  Tom covered his head and hurried back into the house. He stood in the open doorway and gazed at the rain soaked street. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. He went inside and closed the front door.

  He paced the dim living room. His stomach turned and knotted. He couldn’t kick the feeling that something was wrong. He tried to calm down and convince himself that Kevin probably went to the store. Sure, that’s what happened and he would be back any minute. It kind of made sense.

  Tom took a deep breath and willed himself to settle down. But then doubt settle in again. Why would Kevin take the box? And why would he take all three books? Tom gazed at the books lining the bookshelves. Kevin read a lot and went to the library a lot. Maybe he took the Locum Tenens book to the library to research it? That idea kind of made sense, but felt flimsy. Why take the book with him? Kevin knew what it looked like, he could do research that way.

  Tom walked into the kitchen. He drummed his fingers on the note. For lack of anything else to do, he poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip. It was strong and black. He took another sip and walked back out to the living room.

  He picked up the remote, switched on the TV and found the local weather. A young woman bounced happily around the screen eagerly pointing to the radar image heavily covered in pink and purple. She went on to gleefully explain in a somber tone that the weather would continue until tomorrow. In fact ‘we are currently under a thunderstorm warning’. Little lightning bolts covered the purple splotches. Tom clicked the remote off just as the young woman joyfully pointed to one.

  Tom looked at his watch. 10:03. His stomach plunged and skittered sideways. He was running out of time. It was June 20th. Bridgette died on the 22nd. And he didn’t even know what time she died.

  So that left today and tomorrow to catch Sylvie. And they hadn’t even seen her, yet. Sure they could assume she was in the house, but what if she wasn’t? What if she found the shack and it was reanimated, or whatever the word would be for a building coming back to life. What if she was hiding out there? How would they find it? Tom thought of the description. A knotted clump of trees. The bare outline of a shack. And asking permission to enter. Just because it let Sylvie in didn’t mean it would let Tom and Kevin in. And let’s not forget the treat of those dark dead things that he ran into last night. He shivered and his stomach recoiled at the memory. The back of his neck prickled. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms. He shoved the vile memory to the back of his mind.

  He thought of Bridgette smiling and laughing and vowed to himself, “This is for Bridgette. If I have to find the shack I will. If I have to spend days in the forest I will. I will bring her home no matter what it takes.”

  Tom went back into the spare bedroom. H
e opened up the bag of clothes and quickly changed. He tucked the gun in the back of his waistband, stuck his wallet in his back pocket and Bridgette’s keys and the extra gun clip in his front pocket.

  He sat on the bed and laced up his boots. He stuffed his dirty clothes into the bag with the flashlights and set it next to the other bag. He hastily made the bed. He went to the window and peeked out the curtain. Rain splattered the window in big sloppy drops. Kevin’s car still wasn’t in the driveway. Tom dropped the curtain and walked out of the room.

  In the dim living room he could hear the rain splattering against the windows. Thunder rumbled and echoed off into the distance. Tom picked up the blue spiral notebook. He flipped through the few pages of notes. He glanced at his story with no ending and closed the notebook. He carried it into the spare room and tossed it onto his bag of clothes.

  He paced the living room. He picked up his cup of coffee, took it to the kitchen and set it in the sink. He went to the living room, picked up the remote, clicked through daytime TV shows and clicked it off again.

  He sat heavily on the couch, laid his head back and looked at the ceiling. Come on, Kevin, Come on, Come on, Come on. Tom wished for the hundredth time that he had his phone. Should he go to the store and pick up the things on the list? But a glance at the coffee table showed the list was gone. Why did Kevin take the box if he was going to the store? Tom shook his head. His mind raced anxiously over impossibilities. Maybe he was in an accident and everything burned up.

  A gnawing emptiness tore at his heart. That box was his only connection to Bridgette. She had written the note, she had written in the brown journal. She had buried the box for him to find. Even with the nasty Locum Tenens book inside, that box had come to represent Bridgette herself. He felt a longing for it. A protectiveness over it. If he could keep it near, then somehow it felt like he was keeping Bridgette near. The fact that he couldn’t see the box heightened his anxiety.

  Guilt joined the rush of thoughts and Tom thought, “If Kevin was in an accident then I hope he’s ok. Not just to help me with this, but because I really want him to be ok.”