by Amy Cross
With that, I turn and hurry inside, and I make sure to shut the back door properly. Dean's still on the phone, so I slip through to the kitchen and get back to work, preparing the sausages. So far, the past twenty-four hours have been pretty much the weirdest of my life. I can only hope that things are going to get much more boring from this point on.
Chapter Seven
“Hey, can you cover for me?” Fletcher asks. “I need to go and see someone, and the place is empty.”
Turning, I see that he's already grabbing his coat from the hooks behind the staff door. It's 3am and, sure, we haven't had a customer in over an hour, but he should still know that nobody's ever supposed to be left on duty alone.
“Can't it wait?” I ask.
“I just need to go and talk to a guy. I'll be five minutes.”
“Is this a drug deal?”
“You're so cynical,” he adds as he grabs his headphones and puts them over his ears. “You can hold the fort for five minutes, Mackenzie. I'll make it up to you, I promise.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I need him to stay, but then I hear loud music blaring from his headphones as he heads to the door. There's absolutely no point trying to argue with him, even if I know that in his universe 'five minutes' can last for up to an hour. After my crazy dreams last night, I swear I feel as if I haven't slept for ages, but at least the restaurant's pretty dead tonight.
“Thanks a lot,” I mutter under my breath as Fletcher heads outside and disappears across the parking lot. “I guess I'll clean the ice machine, then.”
Sighing, I head over to the ice machine and prepare to get started on the single grossest job in the entire restaurant. There's a reason that this machine tends to get overlooked, and I'm honestly surprised that no-one ever seems to have ended up getting sick. I start removing the nozzle, and at that moment I hear the door swinging open. Realizing that we actually have a customer, I set the nozzle aside and wipe my hands, and then I head back to the counter.
“Hey,” I say with a smile, “what can I -”
I freeze as soon as I see her face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
***
“Wait,” I continue, as I try to make sense of all the craziness that's rushing through my thoughts, “so you're telling me that I really did jump out the window of a party at Carrie's place last night?”
“Oh yeah,” the girl from the toilet replies. Actually, her name turns out to be Larisa. “That totally happened. Sorry again, by the way. I should've made more noise when I came in but, you know how it is. I was about to burst.”
“Hang on,” I say, still feeling as if this whole situation is nuts. “So... it wasn't a dream?”
“A dream?”
“I really hopped out the window?”
“You really did,” she says. “It sounded like you hurt yourself when you landed, too. As you walked away, you were saying some pretty bad words.” She leans toward me across the counter and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Really bad words,” she adds. “The worst. Like -”
“Okay, fine,” I reply, interrupting her, “so I was at the party. That doesn't mean the rest of it was real.”
“The rest of what?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, as I try to figure out how I got home. “Do you happen to know whether anyone got their drinks spiked at the party?”
“Not that I heard about.”
“No-one at all?”
“You seem disappointed.”
“No, not at all. I'm just trying to figure out what happened.”
“No-one got spiked,” she tells me. “If they had, I'd have heard about it.”
“Okay, fine.”
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself not to panic. The part about me hopping out the window was obviously real, but then I must have gone home and fallen asleep, and that's when the weird dream about the vampire and the zombie and the wolf started. I just have a fuzzy hole in my memory, that's all. I'm certainly not about to start believing in any kind of paranormal crap.
“Last night was pretty weird, anyway,” she says. “That light in the sky was intense.”
I immediately stiffen slightly.
“What light in the sky?” I ask.
“I don't think many people saw it, but it was over the forest for a few minutes. There was a big light on the horizon, too.” She looks around, as if she's worried that we'll be overheard, and then she leans toward me again. “I don't know if you're into blogs and podcasts, but there are people out there who are convinced that there's, like, a secret military base hidden not far out of town.”
“There's no -”
“Something weird happened last night,” she adds. “I don't know what, and I'm not gonna speculate, but I'm pretty sure it's to do with that base. They've got bad secrets out there, things that no-one's supposed to know about, and last night they lost control. Only for a little while, maybe an hour or two at most, but there was some kind of emergency out there. Did you see the guys in black suits all around town today? That's a classic sign of weird government stuff, and they must be worried if they're so out in the open about it all. They have to be! This is a total conspiracy meltdown and it's happening right on our doorsteps.”
I stare at her, not quite sure that she's finished just yet.
“Well,” I say finally, “at least you're sticking to your promise not to speculate.”
“Did anything weird happen to you last night?” she asks.
“Me? No.”
“Are you sure? 'Cause you're acting kinda odd.”
“That's just what I'm like,” I tell her, suddenly realizing that I'm in danger of actually getting sucked into this stuff. “So you said you want a burger, right? And some fries?”
I head over to the rack where the burgers are being kept somewhat warm, and I start making up Larisa's order. My hands are shaking again, and I'm kind of freaked out by the realization that at least part of all that weird stuff last night really did happen. I don't get why my stupid brain is refusing to just let me remember exactly how things went down, but I guess everyone has moments like this eventually. I'll figure it out before too long, and the most important thing is that I mustn't overreact. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation, and it'll become apparent before too long.
“There you go,” I say to Larisa as I set the bag on the counter. “Thank you for choosing Moolio's tonight. Come back soon.”
“Mark my words,” she replies with a confident grin, “there's some serious shit going on around here, and eventually it'll come out. It has to. Nothing stays hidden forever.”
With that, she winks at me and heads to the door.
Wait, did she really wink at me? No-one's ever winked at me in my life. As she walks outside and disappears into the night, she seems remarkably confident and self-assured, as if all this talk of conspiracies and lights in the sky is just part of a normal conversation.
Feeling totally discombobulated, I turn and head through into the kitchen. I need to put some more burgers on, just to get us through until the morning crew arrive in a few hours' time, and once I've done that I decide to keep myself busy by taking out some more trash. I should really be at the counter, but I'll only be a minute or two and – besides – it's not my fault that Fletcher abandoned me tonight. I need to keep my mind busy, so I carry the trash out to the back, and then I stop as I realize I can once again hear a rustling sound coming from the dumpster.
“Seriously?” I say with a sigh, as I realize that the guy from earlier must be back.
It's not much after 3am, and there aren't many lights around here, but I tell myself that I just need to be direct in this situation. Heading to the dumpster, I drop the trash and then I take a deep breath as I get ready to read this guy the riot act. Reaching out, I lift the dumpster's lid and I immediately see a figure moving inside.
“You can't be here!” I say firmly. “Didn't you listen to a word I told you earlier? You're not -”
Suddenly the fig
ure turns to me, and I realize that it's much larger than the guy. My eyes widen with shock, and slowly the figure lets out a rumbling growl as it rises high out of the trash and towers above me. I stare up, too horrified to even know how to react, and then the growl becomes a roar and I realize that I actually might be about to die.
“Bear,” I stammer, as the huge black bear opens its mouth to reveal huge, sharp teeth. “B... b... bear...”
Chapter Eight
There's no good way to deal with a bear attack, not when you're this close and you're totally unarmed. Not that I'm an expert on bear attacks, of course. This is the first one I've experienced. Still, in the five or six nanoseconds between seeing the bear and realizing what's about to happen, I have a whole lot of very clear, very distinct thoughts run through my mind.
I'm screwed.
I'm in big trouble.
I'm dead.
As it rises up high out of the dumpster, revealing its full brutal size, the bear continues to snarl at me. In return, I don't even dare to scream. This is exactly like my dream about the wolf, except that the bear's ten thousand times more terrifying, and I don't even have the courage to take a step back. Somewhere in my fear-addled mind, buried deep, is the thought that my only hope here is to stay completely still and hope that something distracts the bear. Even as the damn thing starts clambering out of the dumpster, even as it lets out another roar, I can only stand here and hope for divine intervention. 'Cause I sure as hell can't run or fight.
“Nice bear,” I say finally, involuntarily, hoping that maybe I can calm the situation. “Really nice bear. I mean you no harm.”
I mean you no harm?
I'm just gabbling now. I'm delirious.
With surprising grace and dexterity, the bear manages to climb all the way out of the dumpster. For a moment – for one blessed moment of hope – its face turns away from me, as if perhaps it's about to lumber away, but then it turns and fixes me once again with its terrifying eyes, and I realize that I'm well within striking distance. As if to emphasize that point, the bear opens its mouth to reveal a set of teeth that could very easily chew me to chowder. I've got to admit, the smell isn't fantastic, either.
Slowly, I raise my hands and take the step back that I should have taken already.
“I'm going back inside,” I say, and I can hear the absolute terror in my trembling voice. “Okay? There's no need to be angry. I'm going about my business, and you should do the same. There's no need for our paths to cross. Agreed?”
I take another step back.
The bear roars louder than ever.
“Understood,” I continue, holding my hands up a little higher. “I won't make any sudden movements.”
Could I make it to the back door? I'd need a couple of seconds, and a good few strides. How fast are bears, anyway? This thing is a big old thing, so I figure maybe it's not that fast. Then again, I know from half-remembered natural history documentaries that angry bears are deadly, and that hunters in the wild tend to only approach them if they're heavily armed. Sure, there's a mop leaning against the wall nearby, but I don't think that's going to be much use.
And then, suddenly, it happens.
The panic hits, and I can't stop myself.
Turning, I race to the door. I know this is probably a bad idea, but it's as if my body has said goodbye to my mind and decided to save itself. Of course, I manage to trip against the edge of one of the empty boxes, and I almost fall to the ground, but I somehow manage to keep going until finally I slam against the door and reach for the handle. Before I can give it a turn, however, I feel the ground rumble beneath my feet, and I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder.
I swear, my heart skips a beat as I see the roaring, snarling bear lunging straight at me.
This is it.
I wasn't quick enough.
Game over, Annie.
Suddenly something else joins the fray, a flashing blur of gray and white that rushes in from the left and slams against the bear's side. Whatever this new thing is, it's not as big as the bear, but it's certainly caught the bear's attention. I hear a fresh snarling sound, and the bear turns and swipes furiously at the new arrival before tumbling over as if it's trying to get on top of its attacker.
I reach for the handle, but in a flash the bear is sent thudding straight toward me. I flinch and pull away just as the bear crashes against the door, buckling the frame itself with its force. As the bear rushes back past me to rejoin the fight, I look over at the door again and see that it's completely wrecked. Not in a useful way, however: I grab the handle and give it a pull, but the door and the frame just aren't quite the same shape anymore, which means I'm gonna have to try to sneak around to the front of the building. Yeah, that'd be the smart thing to do.
Except, my body still isn't quite on-board with my mind's plan, and I find myself instinctively ducking down behind one of the dumpsters in what – even now – feels like a quite futile attempt to hide.
The bear roars, the other creature screams, and the concrete beneath me seems to shudder with the force of another heavy blow. I squeeze myself into a ball, and then I try to figure out another escape route. Turning, I look along the gap that runs behind all the dumpsters, and I realize that this might be my chance. I start crawling through the unseemly puddles of trash juice that have dribbled out from small cracks in the dumpsters' undersides, while the bear and its foe continue to fight. Every few seconds, one of the dumpsters shudders heavily; if one of them takes a direct hit, I could be squashed to pulp back here, but I can't help thinking that I deserve a little good luck here. After all, it's fair to say that so far tonight things haven't been going my way.
Suddenly the dumpsters next to me slams against my shoulder, pushing me against the wall. I scream, but at least I don't get squashed, so I quickly start crawling again. One of the animals is in pain now, that much I can hear, but I can't be sure that it's the bear. I don't know what the other thing is, but it's definitely at a disadvantage in terms of size.
Reaching the point between two of the dumpsters, I peer through a gap. At that moment, the bear stumbles, and I'm shocked to see a wolf with its teeth dug deep into the bear's flank. Not just any wolf, either.
It's the wolf from my dream.
“No,” I whisper, “this is too crazy. This is nuts beyond nuts.”
I turn and start crawling again, and now I really start to hurry. If I can just get to the end of the row of dumpsters, I have a genuine half chance to get away while the fight's still going on. Then I can run off into the night and get help, before collapsing somewhere in a heap. Either that, or this whole thing is just another dream, which seems likely if the same wolf has shown up.
I'm behind the last dumpster now, and within sight of escape. The stench of trash water is overwhelming, but finally I manage to scramble out through the gap and get to my feet. I can see the parking lot stretching off toward the road, and I feel a rush of relief as I realize that all I have to do now is run. For a moment I freeze, worried that by running I might attract more attention, I stand completely still. It's as if my limbs are stuck, as if they're refusing to listen to my brain, but then I hear another loud roar and I somehow manage to snap out of this pathetic state. Finally, my mind conquers my body and I take a step forward, and then I prepare to start running.
In that instant, the dumpster behind me gets thrown against my back, sending me clattering across the tarmac until I slam into a wall. Momentarily winded, and with my right arm badly scraped, I try to catch my breath as I stumble to my feet. And then, as I turn to try running again, I see the bear running straight toward me. I freeze, too terrified to move before the bear crashes into me and everything goes black.
Chapter Nine
Peace. Calm. No pain. No fear. Just a growing sense that I'm waking up, until finally I start blinking. I'm on my front, with my head turned to the left and my face pressed gently against a patch of damp grass. I can hear trees rustling nearby, and deep down I can fee
l a rumbling hint of pain-to-come in my ribs. There's still no pain right now, but somehow I know that there's gonna be absolute agony as soon as I move.
“Are you awake?”
Startled, I sit up, and then I let out a gasp as I feel a crackle of agony running up the right side of my ribs. For a moment, looking around, I don't see anyone nearby, but then I spot a familiar figure sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. It's the naked guy from the dumpster, except of course now he's wearing the Moolio's uniform I gave him when I was trying to get rid of him.
It's still dark.
Checking my watch, I see the time.
Almost 5am.
“You've got a graze and some cuts,” the guy says, “but that's not too bad considering you just got in a fight with Manny.”
“With who?” I stammer, before wincing as the pain ripples again.
“He was in a particularly foul mood tonight,” the guy continues. “I told him before, he's gonna draw attention to himself if he keeps it up like that. I don't know whether he ever really listens to anyone, though. To be honest, I don't remember it all. That kind of things is still pretty new.” He pauses, and then he taps the Moolio's logo on his shirt. “On the bright side,” he adds, “I had the forethought to put this in a safe place, and I actually remembered where it was. You were right before, the whole running around naked thing was a really bad idea.”
I sit up a little straighter, only to feel an even worse pain in my side. My right arm is sore, too, and when I look down I see that the skin is badly grazed from the wrist all the way down to the elbow.
“You'll live,” the guy adds.
“I had a dream,” I reply, still struggling to get things straight in my head. “I think. Either that, or I'm losing my mind. I thought a bear came out of the dumpster and attacked me.”
