by Amy Cross
DON'T PANIC!
Furrowing my brow, I peer more closely at the message, which someone has scribbled in pen. I honestly don't recall having ever been given advice by a milk carton before, but I quickly tell myself that obviously someone is playing a prank. Either that, or this particular carton must have gotten mixed up in some crazy shit before it ever made it into our house.
“Okay,” I mutter under my breath as I pour milk into the bowl, “I won't.”
I set the carton back in the fridge, before shutting the door and heading back to the counter. Reaching out to open one of the drawers, I'm surprised when the entire front panel comes away in my hand.
“Seriously?” I say with a sigh, as I use my fingertips on each end of the drawer, teasing it open so that I can get a spoon. “Mom really needs to get someone in.”
After pushing the drawer shut, I turn to go over to the table. And then, spotting a figure standing in the doorway, I let out a startled cry as I see my brother Stevie staring at me. Something about him seems different, however, and I realize after a few seconds that he seems to have had a real growth spurt.
“What?” he asks as he heads to the sink.
“Did your voice break?” I ask.
“What's it to you?”
“Nothing, just...”
My voice trails off. My brother's supposed to be about seven years old, right? In that case, why is he looking and acting like a sullen, morose teen? In fact, he seems barely younger than me, even though I swear we're supposed to be a good few years apart.
“Why are you staring at me, moron?” he asks.
“Watch who you're calling a moron.”
“You're an idiot.”
“You're mean,” I reply, genuinely shocked by his attitude. “When did you get like that?”
“Go to hell,” he says, pouring himself some chocolate milk and then heading back to his room.
A moment later I hear him slam the door, and I'm left standing all alone as I try to figure out what just happened. Mom specifically asked me to stay home for a few hours and keep an eye on Stevie, which seems odd given that he's blatantly old enough to look after himself. Then again, after a few seconds I start to notice a faint, sweet aroma in the air, and I realize what it means.
“Weed?” I say out loud. “Seriously? My little brother is...”
My voice trails off.
I'm officially losing my mind.
Wincing, I remind myself that I really need to stop using the word 'officially' like that. I head over to the table and take a seat with my cereal, and I try to calm myself down. It'd be so easy right now to get totally paranoid, and to start imagining all sorts of things, but the last thing I need is to start wandering down the road to madness. I had a heady night last night, and I've got a long shift ahead of me at Moolio's, and I just want this rather strange morning to settle down and become normal. I'm definitely not in the mood for any weirdness.
Grabbing the juice carton, I'm about to pour myself a glass when I suddenly spot another message scribbled on the side:
SERIOUSLY DON'T PANIC! YOU'RE NOT IMAGINING THINGS!
I swear that message wasn't there a moment ago, but I guess I must have simply not noticed. I glance around the kitchen, but there's no-one here who would have written something like that on the juice, so I tell myself – again – that there's no point worrying.
“Asshole,” I mutter, figuring that Stevie's probably just trying to mess with my head.
I pour myself a glass of juice, and I try to focus on the fact that I need to keep my head together. Nevertheless, I can't help glancing around as I eat, just in case another message appears.
Chapter Twenty
As I make my way along the bright, sun-dappled street a few hours later, I can't help but feel better about things. Sure, Middlewych is a quiet little town in the middle of nowhere, but there are times when I actually like living here. I'm not saying that I want to live here for the rest of my life, but there's something quite nice about growing up in a fairly safe environment. I've never been one of those kids who long to rebel and move to the city.
“Morning, Annie,” a voice calls out.
Spotting Mr. Curtis washing his car, I smile and wave, and then I take the next left and start making my way toward the center of town. I'm a little early for my shift, but I have a few errands to run. Of course, Mom was late getting home, but I sent her a message to say that I'd have to go out, and that Stevie would be fine by himself. She hasn't replied yet, and I imagine she'll be annoyed, but right now I just don't really care. Well, maybe that's a little harsh, but I'm not a babysitter.
“Please don't panic,” a voice says suddenly, right in my left ear.
Startled, I spin around, but there's nobody behind me. I look everywhere, but I'm completely alone on the sidewalk. I know I heard something just now, and after a moment I reach up and check my ears, just in case I accidentally left my earbuds in and somehow couldn't feel them.
Nope, nothing there.
I look around again, but there's just nothing that could possibly explain the voice.
“Don't act weird. Don't attract attention.”
Spinning around again, I realize that this time the voice came from directly behind me.
“Just walk normally,” the voice continues, sounding a little irritated now. “Seriously, can you manage that? Right now, you're looking really weird and they will notice.”
I turn to look the other way.
“Walk!” the voice hisses, and this time there's a gently pat on my back.
I spin around yet again, and now I think I really might be going completely batshit crazy.
“I'll explain on the way,” the voice says, “but you need to just walk and listen. Don't reply to me, because that'll look weird. Don't try to look for me, because that'll look weird too, and there's not even any point. Please, just walk and listen. It's not hard.”
I stay completely still, not daring to move.
“You look like an idiot!” the voice snaps. “Walk!”
I'm shoved in the back again, and this time I stumble on for a few paces. I want to stop and figure things out, but somehow I manage to keep walking, even though I'm worried that I'm having some kind of mental breakdown. I glance around, but the street is mostly deserted, so at least I have hope that nobody's seen me acting like a lunatic. I'm not going to lie, though: the voice sounded totally real and totally here, and I know that people who hear voices tend to be pretty crazy.
“I tried to warn you,” the voice says suddenly.
I flinch, but I manage to keep walking.
“I can't afford to draw attention to myself,” he continues. “Hopefully they think I'm dead, but I'm sure they're aware that verification of that fact is a little... tricky, due to my condition. Even all these months later, I imagine Gibson wonders whether I survived your little fireworks show. Which I did, by the way, quite obviously. I found a basement that gave me some cover. How are you doing, by the way, Annie? Long time no see.”
Something bumps me in the arch of my back. I turn and look over my shoulder, but there's still no sign of anyone. It's almost as if there's some invisible guy right behind me.
“Eyes forward, Annie,” he says. “Eyes forward.”
I do as I'm told, even though I'm still convinced that this can't really be happening.
“That was a wild night, Annie, wasn't it?” he continues. “The intoxicating rush of freedom was overwhelming. I've got to admit, even with my great intellect I couldn't help but get carried away. I know the others did too. When the alarm system at the base got tripped, and all the cell doors accidentally opened, it was like Christmas. I admit I was a little cautious at first, but then I saw big old Manny storming out and I figured, well, why not? Even the big vessel in the research hangar got nicked, did you see that? Mind-blowing stuff.”
“Who are you?” I reply, although I quickly realize that I might be making matters worse by replying to what's clearly an auditory hallucination.
“You still don't remember?” he asks.
“I don't know anything right now.”
“They did a number on you,” he replies. “Then again, you always were the favorite. Everyone at the base always loved Annie.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Really? Wow, I thought your memories would come back with just a little shove, but apparently not. You're their favorite experiment, Annie. Sure, the vampires and the werewolves and the werebears and all the others, including me, were pretty successful, but they always had a particular penchant for you. I overheard them talking a few times. They thought a witch had the greatest potential.”
“A witch?” I reply. “What are you talking about?”
“That's why you were the first one to undergo real-world testing,” he says. “They built this whole town, specifically for that purpose. I've got to say, though, they really rushed it the second time around. Have you noticed how shoddy things are this time? They definitely cut a few corners and skimped on the quality control.”
I turn to look for him again, but suddenly an invisible hand presses against my face, forcing me to look forward again.
“It was bad luck for them that we happened to all escape on the night when your test was due to begin.” I think I hear him chuckling to himself. “Kudos to them for not immediately panicking, but then they were pretty excited when they realized that you'd been changed. How's that going, by the way? Are you experiencing symptoms of vampirism and those other things, or are they giving you pills to block it all?”
I'm almost at Main Street. Once I get there, I'm going to have to at least look like a normal, relaxed person. That's going to be a challenge.
“They're gonna test you, Annie,” the voice continues, “so be ready. I've got things to do, but I'll be back in touch again soon. I helped you last time, remember? Who else do you think wrote that idiot's password on a note next to his computer? And who else helped you get into his apartment, by making sure the doors were open? Sorry I locked you in with that weird octopus creature, but the door malfunctioned. I couldn't get it open.”
“Do you mean that -”
“No more questions now,” he adds. “Speak soon. And watch out for those tests.”
Suddenly, just as I reach Main Street, I feel an invisible kiss on the side of my face. Startled, I turn and look around, but of course there's still no sign of anyone.
“What tests?” I ask. “I don't have a clue what you're talking about!”
I wait, but there's no answer.
“Hello?” I continue. “Are you still here?”
After a moment, I reach out and move my hands through the air, but they don't bump against anything. The invisible guy seems to have vanished, although there's not really any way I can be sure of that.
“If you're there, say something,” I add. “It's not fair to pretend.”
I wait.
No reply.
“Are you okay?”
Turning, I see Mrs. Cooper watching me from the corner. She's holding her shopping bags and eyeing me with suspicion, which I guess is merited if she's just seen me flailing my hands around and taking to myself.
“Fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “It's a nice day, huh?”
With that, I turn and hurry along the street, while still half expecting to hear the voice again at any moment.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Okay,” Dean says as he comes over to watch me opening another box of buns, “when you've done that, I need you to take the trash out. Sorry, Annie, I'd ask Fletcher to do it, but last time he got all the bags in all the wrong dumpsters. I swear, that guy's brain isn't quite switched on properly.”
“On it, boss,” I reply.
“Thanks, Annie. I don't know what I'd do without you. Sometimes I feel like you're the only person in this restaurant with any common sense at all. I'd do it myself, but I have to work on those security cameras. One of them's not working properly, and I really hate the idea of us not having proper coverage of the entire site. Attention to detail, Annie. That's one of the most important things in the whole world.”
As he heads through to his office, I can't help but smile. Dean's a really nice guy, he's always very smart and fair, and I consider myself really lucky to have him as a boss. Some of the other people who work here are kind of sketchy and weird, but Dean's the kindest, most straightforward person I've ever met in my life. I have to admit, I always feel good whenever he gives me a compliment.
Turning to one of the cupboards, I'm about to pull it open when the entire door comes crashing down, banging hard against the counter and then falling to the floor. I thought home was bad this morning, but now Moolio's seems to be falling apart too. I swear, people need to start taking more pride in their work around this town, because right now it seems as if the carpenters of Middlewych are a bunch of chancers.
***
As I haul the first bag of trash out to the dumpsters behind the restaurant, I feel a faint itching sensation on the back of my neck. Earlier, the sky was pretty cloudy, but now the sun's come out and I swear it's almost as if I'm getting slightly burned. I guess I need to buy some cream, even if that seems a little excessive.
Reaching the first dumpsters, I drop the bag and then I start opening the dumpster's lid. As I do that, however, I start to feel a little dizzy, and then when I open the dumpster I'm suddenly struck by the feeling that there should be someone inside. I stare down into the mass of garbage, and of course there's no sign of anyone, but a strange non-memory has washed into my mind and I feel as if there should be a naked guy staring out at me.
What the hell, right?
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to stop being so easily freaked out, but I'm sort of almost half remembering something that I know can't have happened. I have a really strong image in my head of this guy staring out at me, and I have to really force myself to remember that no such encounter ever happened. At the same time, the memory is becoming stronger and stronger, and I think I even remember talking to him. I gave him a Moolio's uniform so that he could get out of the dumpster without any further embarrassment, and then...
And then what?
“Didn't happen,” I say out loud, just to try to keep myself from going completely loopy. “Definitely didn't happen.”
I turn to go and grab another bag, but then I spot a section in the dumpster where one of the large green bags has split open, spilling out some old, pretty rancid-looking meat. My instant reaction is to realize that I should be disgusted, but at the same time I can feel a strange sense of hunger starting to fill my belly. After a few more seconds, I realize to my absolute abject horror that I actually want to eat the meat, and I'm not even sure that I can hold myself back.
I glance around, to make sure that nobody's watching, and then I start leaning into the bin. I dip my right hand into the messy, half-rotten meat and scoop some out, and then – even though I find the whole idea disgusting – I slip some into my mouth.
I'm simultaneously repulsed and delighted.
I savor the taste, and then I lick my fingers clean. There are a few small, wriggling maggots mixed up in the meat, but I don't care, I eat those too, and then I reach down and scoop up some more. My mind knows that this is all wrong, but my body just can't get enough of this rotten, maggoty mix. I just want more and more, and each mouthful somehow seems to make me hungrier, until I finish the entire contents of the bag and realize that I can't stop, not yet. There has to be more rotten meat somewhere in this dumpster.
So I climb inside.
With a complete lack of grace and dignity, I clamber into the dumpster and immediately start rooting through the trash in search of more meat. I find a couple of old burgers, but as I eat those I'm disappointed that they're not particularly rotten, so I start going deeper and deeper in my desperate search. I swear I can somehow sense some nasty meat somewhere near the bottom, and soon my hands are digging through maggot-covered mounds of plastic. Ordinarily I'd be rep
ulsed by anything like this, but finally I discover a warm, squirming mass of meat and maggots and flies down at the very bottom of the dumpster, and I can't start shoving it into my mouth fast enough.
I don't know how long it takes me to eat all the meat, but I'm pretty sure I get through the entire disgusting mess in about five minutes flat. Then I start licking the dumpster's metal sides, trying to get any other stray scraps. I feel pretty full, but at the same time I'm terrified of missing even the tiniest sliver of meat.
What's wrong with me.
Finally, leaning back for a moment at the bottom of the dumpster, I try to get my breath back. The insatiable urge for meat has begun to fade just a little, probably because my stomach's likely fit to burst. I might be imagining things, but I think I can feel maggots wriggling in the back of my throat an all the way down through my chest. I should be gagging and screaming, but instead I'm thinking about the wonderful taste of my feast.
And then, as I sit up and prepare to climb out of the dumpster, I manage to slip. Landing hard on my knees, I cause the entire dumpster to shudder slightly, and that's enough for the lid to come slamming down, sealing me in darkness.
“Damn it!” I hiss, as I start to realize that I'm covered in juice from the trash.
I get to my feet and reach up to open the dumpster's lid, but then I freeze as I realize I can hear something moving outside. My first thought is that maybe someone else has come out to toss some trash away, but for some reason my mind is suddenly filled with a very clear, very odd image. As fear ripples through my chest, I try to stay completely quiet as I kneel back down and wait for the sound to stop. I don't know why, but my screwy mind is absolutely convinced that there's a bear out there in the parking lot.
Why a bear?
I have no idea.
As far as I'm aware, there are no wild bears anywhere near Middlewych, yet right now I'm gripped by the certain knowledge that there's a bear approaching the dumpster. In my mind's eye, I can see the huge creature rearing up and preparing to attack, and tears start running down my face as I start to realize that I might not be able to escape. I pull down to the very corner of the dumpster, and I start shivering uncontrollably in the darkness as I wait for the lid to get ripped aside and for the bear to come for me. I'll get torn apart, I'll have all my guts torn out, I'll scream as I die and then I'll get eaten. My skull will be crushed in the bear's jaws, and my brain will come sloshing out.
