It wasn’t
that her heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t, honest. This was the paperwork that
would start her on her farewell tour of rural Kansas, the kickoff of her See You Never
Again You Shithole Podunk Town Tour. That was exciting. At least, it should
have been. In reality, it was a few pounds of paper topped with a pencil and a
fluorescent orange sharpener, the sort you see in grade school. Financial
paperwork, historical paperwork, biographical paperwork. Where have you ever
lived, where did you live before that, where do you live now and for how long? What
are your savings like? The savings of those you live with? And who are they,
for that matter? For being the paperwork that would set her free from her
corncob prison, it certainly wasn’t very dramatic.
She tapped the pencil against the third or thirteenth sheet in her accumulating pile, sighing out of the side of her mouth. No, it wasn’t that her heart wasn’t in it. Glancing around her room, she tried to ignore the sun shining in through the dusty windows. She tried to overlook the pile of novels on the cluttered table beside her bed. Her eyes drifted over the bookshelf full of old tomes from before she was born, past a pile of antique dishes squared away in a curio cabinet. The trappings of her more recent teenaged years were displayed on the walls; posters of anti-establishment bands and counter-culture musical movements. Movie posters in languages she couldn’t read. Photographs of the boring yet “patriotic” Kansas farmland. Those things were behind her now, she knew, but she didn’t quite have the heart to take them down. Passing fads, the phases of growing up, were all those things were to her, but she didn’t have anything else to put up in their stead.
She grumbled a bit, turning the eraser around to rub out an erroneously-filled bubble. Her thoughts peeled away from the paper as her autopilot set in, though they were without destination. There wasn’t even anything for her to do out there. Her car was still at the neighboring farm while the Sanders’ eldest son worked on whatever was making that annoyingly loud and equally unsettling clinking sound. He’d done it as a favor, no doubt in part of the fact that he was single and she was attractive to him.
“Taboo, I’d say.” She was the opposite of majority of her town; while they were all settled into their lives by the time they were twelve, she wasn’t ready to call it quits on her own ambitions yet. She wasn’t from this time-stuck and suffocating locale and as far as she was concerned she didn’t belong there.
Despite her adoptive parents waiting until she was nearing the blossom of womanhood, Abby didn’t need them to explain to her she didn’t come from their family. She didn’t look anything like the fair-haired and large-bodied couple, Langston perpetually tanned and his hair nearly white from the sun. Emmerson was a simple woman of simple taste. Abby was short, with dark hair foreign to the region, and with a lithe frame that couldn’t have come from her portly family.
It wasn’t that Abby didn’t care for them, because she did. She’d suspected infertility once she’d matured enough to put the thoughts together. Afraid to ask specifics because she was worried it would come across as unkind, she was content to let the subject rest. Dragging up the demons from the past wouldn’t have helped at all then, especially since that was about when she began to realize she had to leave them when she finished school. Abby suspected deep down she always knew she wasn’t going to stay in their little farm her whole life, but it wasn’t until her late teen years that she realized it as a fact. She did little to fight destiny on that tract, instead putting her efforts into doing what she could scholastically to escape to a better location, one that would suit her better than a dusty, beat down and forgotten village.
Back in reality, Abby collected her thoughts. Waxing on about the past wasn’t going to get that mountain of paperwork done and dilly-dallying wasn’t going to help, either. Briefly, her mind touched on the idea that maybe she wasn’t as desperate to get out of Kansas as she thought she might have been. Those thoughts were dashed against the rocks of her hypothetical destination; Big buildings, lots of interesting people. Someone she could hold a decent conversation with. People, not Folk. Even if they were good and fair folk, Abby didn’t have much want or need for the small town life. Her pencil darted along the pages, clearing the way for Elsewhere.
Hours later, the bright warmth of the sun was winding down and slipping out of the sky. Despite having been called for supper, Abby stayed and worked on her escape plan. It was late and after dark before she finally crept out of her room. Langston and Em had already gone to bed, him wanting to rise and fall with the sun and her being a constant companion to him. That left Abby to help herself to the lukewarm remainders of that night’s meal. She cut herself a portion of glazed ham and heaped a pile of mashed potatoes onto a plate, taking a seat in the living room she’d spent her entire waking life traveling through. It had changed little since she’d known it, though the rabbit-ears television had apparently been added with her own arrival. Abby smiled at the thought of Langston driving his then considerably-less beat-up pickup out of town and into a City to hand over entirely too much cash for a dilapidated second-hand teevee. He probably would have beamed about it the entire way, too. He was a dad now, and his little girl would want to watch that puppet show that everyone was raving about, so by gum he would break down and purchase a television set. It would have been difficult to learn about colors and shapes on the radio.
Abby found part of herself chastising herself for getting sentimental. Thoughts like that would weaken her resolve and trick her into thinking maybe one more year on the farm wouldn’t hurt. The dark part of her brain snickered, adding that maybe Landon Sanders wouldn’t seem like such a hick a year from now, either. Abby shuddered, half bemused and half earnestly repulsed. Regardless of her own commentary, she found herself looking over mantelpieces and running her eyes over the myriad dust collectors that occupied the endangered free spaces on the many flat surfaces of the room. Tucked behind one of the button-eyed cows she had sewn for Em was an envelope, plain white. Curiously, Abby picked it up and turned it over. There wasn’t anything written on it, however, and no postmark or stamp. She glanced over to the sitting room table that was the location of all the mail supplies, frowning slightly. It wasn’t like Em to leave something so far out of place. The dark part of her brain gently prodded that that meant it probably wasn’t Em’s.
Abby crossed back to where she was sitting to eat, examining the envelope. It felt heavy somehow, despite being rather small, and the sense that something was off was beginning to tug harder and harder at the back of her mind. It was out of character for something to arrive unmarked, and regardless of the item’s trivial size, she disliked finding something unnatural in her home. A part of her was dimly aware it was irrational to be this upset over a blank envelope, and while the irrational part of her brain was preparing to justify itself, her hands quickly and efficiently tore the white paper open and pulled out its contents. Looking down at what she had done without thinking, the dull shock of her actions had to wait in line behind the explicit shock of the contents of the somehow-weighty cardboard greeting card. The front of it had a crudely-drawn cupcake with candles in it. The inside had a small greeting.
“Dear Abigail,
Happy Birthday on this thirty-first of July. I know who your parents were.”
She tapped the pencil against the third or thirteenth sheet in her accumulating pile, sighing out of the side of her mouth. No, it wasn’t that her heart wasn’t in it. Glancing around her room, she tried to ignore the sun shining in through the dusty windows. She tried to overlook the pile of novels on the cluttered table beside her bed. Her eyes drifted over the bookshelf full of old tomes from before she was born, past a pile of antique dishes squared away in a curio cabinet. The trappings of her more recent teenaged years were displayed on the walls; posters of anti-establishment bands and counter-culture musical movements. Movie posters in languages she couldn’t read. Photographs of the boring yet “patriotic” Kansas farmland. Those things were behind her now, she knew, but she didn’t quite have the heart to take them down. Passing fads, the phases of growing up, were all those things were to her, but she didn’t have anything else to put up in their stead.
She grumbled a bit, turning the eraser around to rub out an erroneously-filled bubble. Her thoughts peeled away from the paper as her autopilot set in, though they were without destination. There wasn’t even anything for her to do out there. Her car was still at the neighboring farm while the Sanders’ eldest son worked on whatever was making that annoyingly loud and equally unsettling clinking sound. He’d done it as a favor, no doubt in part of the fact that he was single and she was attractive to him.
“Taboo, I’d say.” She was the opposite of majority of her town; while they were all settled into their lives by the time they were twelve, she wasn’t ready to call it quits on her own ambitions yet. She wasn’t from this time-stuck and suffocating locale and as far as she was concerned she didn’t belong there.
Despite her adoptive parents waiting until she was nearing the blossom of womanhood, Abby didn’t need them to explain to her she didn’t come from their family. She didn’t look anything like the fair-haired and large-bodied couple, Langston perpetually tanned and his hair nearly white from the sun. Emmerson was a simple woman of simple taste. Abby was short, with dark hair foreign to the region, and with a lithe frame that couldn’t have come from her portly family.
It wasn’t that Abby didn’t care for them, because she did. She’d suspected infertility once she’d matured enough to put the thoughts together. Afraid to ask specifics because she was worried it would come across as unkind, she was content to let the subject rest. Dragging up the demons from the past wouldn’t have helped at all then, especially since that was about when she began to realize she had to leave them when she finished school. Abby suspected deep down she always knew she wasn’t going to stay in their little farm her whole life, but it wasn’t until her late teen years that she realized it as a fact. She did little to fight destiny on that tract, instead putting her efforts into doing what she could scholastically to escape to a better location, one that would suit her better than a dusty, beat down and forgotten village.
Back in reality, Abby collected her thoughts. Waxing on about the past wasn’t going to get that mountain of paperwork done and dilly-dallying wasn’t going to help, either. Briefly, her mind touched on the idea that maybe she wasn’t as desperate to get out of Kansas as she thought she might have been. Those thoughts were dashed against the rocks of her hypothetical destination; Big buildings, lots of interesting people. Someone she could hold a decent conversation with. People, not Folk. Even if they were good and fair folk, Abby didn’t have much want or need for the small town life. Her pencil darted along the pages, clearing the way for Elsewhere.
Hours later, the bright warmth of the sun was winding down and slipping out of the sky. Despite having been called for supper, Abby stayed and worked on her escape plan. It was late and after dark before she finally crept out of her room. Langston and Em had already gone to bed, him wanting to rise and fall with the sun and her being a constant companion to him. That left Abby to help herself to the lukewarm remainders of that night’s meal. She cut herself a portion of glazed ham and heaped a pile of mashed potatoes onto a plate, taking a seat in the living room she’d spent her entire waking life traveling through. It had changed little since she’d known it, though the rabbit-ears television had apparently been added with her own arrival. Abby smiled at the thought of Langston driving his then considerably-less beat-up pickup out of town and into a City to hand over entirely too much cash for a dilapidated second-hand teevee. He probably would have beamed about it the entire way, too. He was a dad now, and his little girl would want to watch that puppet show that everyone was raving about, so by gum he would break down and purchase a television set. It would have been difficult to learn about colors and shapes on the radio.
Abby found part of herself chastising herself for getting sentimental. Thoughts like that would weaken her resolve and trick her into thinking maybe one more year on the farm wouldn’t hurt. The dark part of her brain snickered, adding that maybe Landon Sanders wouldn’t seem like such a hick a year from now, either. Abby shuddered, half bemused and half earnestly repulsed. Regardless of her own commentary, she found herself looking over mantelpieces and running her eyes over the myriad dust collectors that occupied the endangered free spaces on the many flat surfaces of the room. Tucked behind one of the button-eyed cows she had sewn for Em was an envelope, plain white. Curiously, Abby picked it up and turned it over. There wasn’t anything written on it, however, and no postmark or stamp. She glanced over to the sitting room table that was the location of all the mail supplies, frowning slightly. It wasn’t like Em to leave something so far out of place. The dark part of her brain gently prodded that that meant it probably wasn’t Em’s.
Abby crossed back to where she was sitting to eat, examining the envelope. It felt heavy somehow, despite being rather small, and the sense that something was off was beginning to tug harder and harder at the back of her mind. It was out of character for something to arrive unmarked, and regardless of the item’s trivial size, she disliked finding something unnatural in her home. A part of her was dimly aware it was irrational to be this upset over a blank envelope, and while the irrational part of her brain was preparing to justify itself, her hands quickly and efficiently tore the white paper open and pulled out its contents. Looking down at what she had done without thinking, the dull shock of her actions had to wait in line behind the explicit shock of the contents of the somehow-weighty cardboard greeting card. The front of it had a crudely-drawn cupcake with candles in it. The inside had a small greeting.
“Dear Abigail,
Happy Birthday on this thirty-first of July. I know who your parents were.”
II
Abby panicked slightly. School records would show that her name was in fact Abigail, but since she could remember everyone always called her Abby. Abigail sounded so out of date and prehistoric that she had thought about legally changing her name for a short time. An oddly calm portion of herself reasoned that someone could have done enough digging to come across that. What wasn’t public information, however, was the actual date of her birth. Since she was little, Abby had always celebrated her birthday publicly at the end of June, in time for the end of the school year. The actual, specific date was only known to Abby, Em, Langston and the man who handled her adoption case.
That, of course, had little weight compared to the second sentence. Abby had been given up for adoption shortly after her birth; the oddly calm portion of herself pointed out that her “real” birthday was really only a guess. As such, her parents had largely been a blank in her life. Abby surprised herself at how comfortable she was with that fact, actually. If she had meant so little to her biological parents that they would drop her before even giving her a chance, she would be able to do the same thing. She hardened her heart to the subject and didn’t like to discuss it much, and Em and Langston had honored that as much as Abby had respected them by not prying into their reasons for adopting.
With her mind racing at a mile a minute, it wasn’t surprising that she had overlooked a small box of script, neatly tucked into the bottom-right corner of the card. It had an address that she had partially, kind of recognized as being just outside the town proper.
The whole thing reeked. Abby set the envelope and card down away from her, not wanting to touch them. She felt slightly nauseous. Her mind raced with questions. Was she being stalked? Who would be stalking her? Should she wake up Em and Langston? Was she in danger? How did the envelope get into the house? What if the person who left it was still in the house? Why would they leave an address if they were in the house? Abby gave herself a minute or so to panic, ears tuned to listen for a crazy lunatic with a knife to come storming across the old creaky floor. Once the part of her brain attuned for terror had run its course and she wasn’t perforated and leaking all over the floor, she attempted to regain her composure and approach the situation with a rational mind.
“Fact. This letter was left inside of this house, despite us having been home all day and Em having been in and out of the kitchen all afternoon and no one noticed it. Fact. It has some very personal information not widely known in it. Fact. The person who left it claims to know my parents…” She weighed this in her head for a moment. The location wasn’t that far and there was no time listed.
“What am I supposed to do here?” She asked herself quietly, not really looking for an answer of any sort. “I’m probably not as freaked out as I should be, right? Despite talking to myself, I mean? If this person could sneak in to drop this off and they meant me harm, I’d already be in trouble, right?” The various statuettes and collectibles around the room seemed to agree with her in a hushed capacity. If they objected, they weren’t alluding to it.
“I don’t have my car anyway. Landon won’t be done with it until tomorrow, and-“ Abby nearly leaped out of her skin mid-sentence when the slight tapping at the window interrupted her.
“KILLERMONSTEREVILMURDER-“ was as far as her brain got before she whirled her head and stared wide-eyed out of the window and saw a bashfully smiling Landon Sanders stand back up with a small pebble in his hand, ready to throw another. It wasn’t odd for him to try and get her attention like that, and he’d done so since early on in their childhoods. She took a deep breath to try and slow down her hammering heart then managed her way steadily to the door, unlatching the lock and stepping out onto the porch.
“Landon? It’s late, what are you doing out here?”
“Aw, it’s not that late just yet, Abby. Sun’s hardly been down an hour, even if it is July. By my book that means it ain’t that late.” He grinned at her, his tone laid back and friendly. Casual.
“True, but you know how Langston gets if he gets woken up.” She pointed in the vague direction of his room. It was in the back of the house, on the opposite side of where they were standing, but the man had supernatural hearing while he was asleep.
“It’s awright. I won’t be long or anything. Just wanted to let you know I finished working on your old beater.” He gestured behind himself, towards the trodden dirt road that connected her family’s stead to the rest of the beat down road that eventually made it out to the blacktop.
“How’d you get it over here without making any noise?” She squinted, barely able to make out the shape of her overly-worn vehicle on the road. She hadn’t heard the car approach at all, which made her worry in the interim between her question and his answer.
“I pushed it.” Landon folded his arms, casually, and acted too nonchalant for his part. “It wasn’t that hard, her wheels move fine and I’m real strong like.” His eyes gazed off away from her for a beat after he finished before he got curious and they dashed back to her. Abby figured he was checking to see if she’d been impressed.
“That’s amazing, Landon! Thank you so much!” She figured she owed him and gave him a brief, friendly hug. She was sure he’d read into it, but it wouldn’t matter soon. She definitely didn’t feel that way about him and once she was off to college, he’d have to come to grips with the fact she wasn’t going to return for him.
“Aw, it wasn’t nothin’. Anything for you, you know.” His tone remained neutral but she knew that he’d meant that, truly. “Were you gonna take her out for a spin, just to make sure everything was in working order? I just had to go under ‘er and tighten up a-“
“I suppose I can.” She didn’t speak Car so when Landon, who was a bit of a gearhead, started to go on about recharging transistors or tightening ratio whatevers, Abby tended to cut him off. Her thoughts guiltily slid towards the card and its secret address. “I think I should wait until morning, though. I’d hate for Em to wake up and notice I’m suddenly missing in the middle of the night.” She didn’t like lying about her intentions, and she was made to feel doubly guilty by the realization that such a situation just might occur.
“Yeah, I understand.” Landon sounded almost let down. He was probably hoping to tag along for the ride. “Well, maybe tomorrow once I’m done chores I could ride along with you, just in case something goes wrong.” There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice, and Abby felt she owed him that.
“I’ll wait for you, then.” He beamed, running a hand over his shaggy light brown hair and smiling ear to ear.
“Alright, then. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Abby. Goodnight.”
“Take care, Landon.” She slipped back inside, knowing Landon wasn’t going to set foot off of the porch until she was well away from the door. She did honestly feel bad about taking advantage of his crush on her, but he was so willing to do those sorts of things for her that she would have felt worse not letting him make himself useful. Before she let herself get dragged down into the decidedly-high-school nature of her inner dispute, however, she focused back on the letter. Landon’s arrival had been something of a sign, right? She tried to convince herself one way or the other, but she came to realize that she was as helpless to fight leaving now as she would be in a few short months when college came around. From the moment she picked up the envelope, she supposed she knew she wasn’t going to just ignore it.
Abby panicked slightly. School records would show that her name was in fact Abigail, but since she could remember everyone always called her Abby. Abigail sounded so out of date and prehistoric that she had thought about legally changing her name for a short time. An oddly calm portion of herself reasoned that someone could have done enough digging to come across that. What wasn’t public information, however, was the actual date of her birth. Since she was little, Abby had always celebrated her birthday publicly at the end of June, in time for the end of the school year. The actual, specific date was only known to Abby, Em, Langston and the man who handled her adoption case.
That, of course, had little weight compared to the second sentence. Abby had been given up for adoption shortly after her birth; the oddly calm portion of herself pointed out that her “real” birthday was really only a guess. As such, her parents had largely been a blank in her life. Abby surprised herself at how comfortable she was with that fact, actually. If she had meant so little to her biological parents that they would drop her before even giving her a chance, she would be able to do the same thing. She hardened her heart to the subject and didn’t like to discuss it much, and Em and Langston had honored that as much as Abby had respected them by not prying into their reasons for adopting.
With her mind racing at a mile a minute, it wasn’t surprising that she had overlooked a small box of script, neatly tucked into the bottom-right corner of the card. It had an address that she had partially, kind of recognized as being just outside the town proper.
The whole thing reeked. Abby set the envelope and card down away from her, not wanting to touch them. She felt slightly nauseous. Her mind raced with questions. Was she being stalked? Who would be stalking her? Should she wake up Em and Langston? Was she in danger? How did the envelope get into the house? What if the person who left it was still in the house? Why would they leave an address if they were in the house? Abby gave herself a minute or so to panic, ears tuned to listen for a crazy lunatic with a knife to come storming across the old creaky floor. Once the part of her brain attuned for terror had run its course and she wasn’t perforated and leaking all over the floor, she attempted to regain her composure and approach the situation with a rational mind.
“Fact. This letter was left inside of this house, despite us having been home all day and Em having been in and out of the kitchen all afternoon and no one noticed it. Fact. It has some very personal information not widely known in it. Fact. The person who left it claims to know my parents…” She weighed this in her head for a moment. The location wasn’t that far and there was no time listed.
“What am I supposed to do here?” She asked herself quietly, not really looking for an answer of any sort. “I’m probably not as freaked out as I should be, right? Despite talking to myself, I mean? If this person could sneak in to drop this off and they meant me harm, I’d already be in trouble, right?” The various statuettes and collectibles around the room seemed to agree with her in a hushed capacity. If they objected, they weren’t alluding to it.
“I don’t have my car anyway. Landon won’t be done with it until tomorrow, and-“ Abby nearly leaped out of her skin mid-sentence when the slight tapping at the window interrupted her.
“KILLERMONSTEREVILMURDER-“ was as far as her brain got before she whirled her head and stared wide-eyed out of the window and saw a bashfully smiling Landon Sanders stand back up with a small pebble in his hand, ready to throw another. It wasn’t odd for him to try and get her attention like that, and he’d done so since early on in their childhoods. She took a deep breath to try and slow down her hammering heart then managed her way steadily to the door, unlatching the lock and stepping out onto the porch.
“Landon? It’s late, what are you doing out here?”
“Aw, it’s not that late just yet, Abby. Sun’s hardly been down an hour, even if it is July. By my book that means it ain’t that late.” He grinned at her, his tone laid back and friendly. Casual.
“True, but you know how Langston gets if he gets woken up.” She pointed in the vague direction of his room. It was in the back of the house, on the opposite side of where they were standing, but the man had supernatural hearing while he was asleep.
“It’s awright. I won’t be long or anything. Just wanted to let you know I finished working on your old beater.” He gestured behind himself, towards the trodden dirt road that connected her family’s stead to the rest of the beat down road that eventually made it out to the blacktop.
“How’d you get it over here without making any noise?” She squinted, barely able to make out the shape of her overly-worn vehicle on the road. She hadn’t heard the car approach at all, which made her worry in the interim between her question and his answer.
“I pushed it.” Landon folded his arms, casually, and acted too nonchalant for his part. “It wasn’t that hard, her wheels move fine and I’m real strong like.” His eyes gazed off away from her for a beat after he finished before he got curious and they dashed back to her. Abby figured he was checking to see if she’d been impressed.
“That’s amazing, Landon! Thank you so much!” She figured she owed him and gave him a brief, friendly hug. She was sure he’d read into it, but it wouldn’t matter soon. She definitely didn’t feel that way about him and once she was off to college, he’d have to come to grips with the fact she wasn’t going to return for him.
“Aw, it wasn’t nothin’. Anything for you, you know.” His tone remained neutral but she knew that he’d meant that, truly. “Were you gonna take her out for a spin, just to make sure everything was in working order? I just had to go under ‘er and tighten up a-“
“I suppose I can.” She didn’t speak Car so when Landon, who was a bit of a gearhead, started to go on about recharging transistors or tightening ratio whatevers, Abby tended to cut him off. Her thoughts guiltily slid towards the card and its secret address. “I think I should wait until morning, though. I’d hate for Em to wake up and notice I’m suddenly missing in the middle of the night.” She didn’t like lying about her intentions, and she was made to feel doubly guilty by the realization that such a situation just might occur.
“Yeah, I understand.” Landon sounded almost let down. He was probably hoping to tag along for the ride. “Well, maybe tomorrow once I’m done chores I could ride along with you, just in case something goes wrong.” There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice, and Abby felt she owed him that.
“I’ll wait for you, then.” He beamed, running a hand over his shaggy light brown hair and smiling ear to ear.
“Alright, then. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Abby. Goodnight.”
“Take care, Landon.” She slipped back inside, knowing Landon wasn’t going to set foot off of the porch until she was well away from the door. She did honestly feel bad about taking advantage of his crush on her, but he was so willing to do those sorts of things for her that she would have felt worse not letting him make himself useful. Before she let herself get dragged down into the decidedly-high-school nature of her inner dispute, however, she focused back on the letter. Landon’s arrival had been something of a sign, right? She tried to convince herself one way or the other, but she came to realize that she was as helpless to fight leaving now as she would be in a few short months when college came around. From the moment she picked up the envelope, she supposed she knew she wasn’t going to just ignore it.
III
Emotionally, Abby bounced back and forth between excited and wondering what the hell was wrong with her. The roads were predictably empty on Thursday night, now almost Friday morning, even out on the main roads that actually served Kansas proper. She thought she knew where she was headed but couldn’t seem to find the location on the roads. Pulled off on the shoulder, she pulled the local map from her glove box and began to scan it, looking for where she was and where her destination should be. It hurt her eyes trying to read in the dimness of the dome light, however. The glass was stained brown from long use and disrepair, and while it gave off enough of a glow to count as luminescence, it was hardly ideal to read by. Through it all was the persistent nag in the back of her head telling her to just go home and do it tomorrow, maybe with the police along for the ride.
Ahead of her, around a bend, came a pair of headlights. Approaching fast, almost too fast, certainly breaking the limits posted. In the glare Abby couldn’t make out the model of the car, though she doubted she would have been able to even if it had been cruising at twenty five at mid day. It rushed past with a seemingly too-loud rumble, vanishing past her down the road in a manner that caused her to begin to worry anew. The map ruffled noisily as she folded it quickly, stuffing it back where it came from. She thought she had been up and down this road enough tonight to be certain the building she was looking for and had been eluding her wasn’t there. Abby eased off of the shoulder, back onto the road and around the bend with the intent to find a turn-off and return home. As she rounded the corner, however, she noticed an ambient glow off of the road. Most of the land surrounding the road was wildly overgrown, given a dispute between the State proper and the legal limits of what constituted the town she grew up in, but there was no mistaking that something beyond her field of vision was on fire.
Searching frantically for a way off of the highway in the direction of the orange haze, Abby forced her vehicle off of the lane and partially into the overgrowth. She was moving on some relative of instinct, rushing towards the flame and danger instead of away from it. Her higher brain didn’t have time to catch up with what her body was doing. She found herself muttering, dimly surprised by what she was thinking.
“My parents, my only shot, she knew my parents, I have to-“ She was cut off mid-sentence when she broke through the overgrowth, suddenly emerging on a small clearing with what normally would have looked like a cozy cottage if not for the gout of flame eating its way across the roof. Part of Abby’s mind fixated on the fact there was a car here without there being any discernable way for it to have arrived.
It didn’t look like the flames had done too much yet. Somehow the roof had caught on fire without the inside of the building glowing yellow yet, maybe there was a chance she could get in to make sure anyone inside would be okay. As she started towards the door, full of reckless abandon, she wondered if the speeding vehicle that passed her had been the owner, burning it down and fleeing.
“Two cars?” she quizzed herself, agog at her own ability to have a conversation with herself while also potentially killing herself by rushing into a burning building. Any marvel at what was going on was lost upon entry.
The layout of the room wasn’t dissimilar to the layout of most of the homes she had visited in her township. Obvious living room, unlit but evident from the back of the sofa that was facing her, met by a dining room of sorts, lit by a small lamp. Sitting at the table was a woman in an impeccable suit, dark blue. Immaculately groomed nails at the tips of her fingers, she seemed mostly the perfect picture of someone waiting for a business meeting from the neck down. Mostly, on account of the huge splash of dark red covering the front of her suit and shirt. From the neck up, Miss Lawyer Woman had been split from ear to ear, emptying the contents of her veins all over herself while her head lulled back in a terrific way.
“Oh, god oh god, Jesus fuck...” She began to stammer, her eyes flitting over the scene and unfortunately drinking in the picture. From the angle Abby stood at, she was privy to too many details of the unfortunate woman, including the color of her eyes. Her mouth was open in a distorted, silent plea of mercy that wouldn’t come. Abby fought herself to look away, but realized her body wasn’t listening to her anymore. She heard a crackling pop from above her, suddenly reminded that the building was on fire. That was when Miss Lawyer Woman tilted her head up, blinking and gazed absently around the room. Abby’s heart was in her throat and
Emotionally, Abby bounced back and forth between excited and wondering what the hell was wrong with her. The roads were predictably empty on Thursday night, now almost Friday morning, even out on the main roads that actually served Kansas proper. She thought she knew where she was headed but couldn’t seem to find the location on the roads. Pulled off on the shoulder, she pulled the local map from her glove box and began to scan it, looking for where she was and where her destination should be. It hurt her eyes trying to read in the dimness of the dome light, however. The glass was stained brown from long use and disrepair, and while it gave off enough of a glow to count as luminescence, it was hardly ideal to read by. Through it all was the persistent nag in the back of her head telling her to just go home and do it tomorrow, maybe with the police along for the ride.
Ahead of her, around a bend, came a pair of headlights. Approaching fast, almost too fast, certainly breaking the limits posted. In the glare Abby couldn’t make out the model of the car, though she doubted she would have been able to even if it had been cruising at twenty five at mid day. It rushed past with a seemingly too-loud rumble, vanishing past her down the road in a manner that caused her to begin to worry anew. The map ruffled noisily as she folded it quickly, stuffing it back where it came from. She thought she had been up and down this road enough tonight to be certain the building she was looking for and had been eluding her wasn’t there. Abby eased off of the shoulder, back onto the road and around the bend with the intent to find a turn-off and return home. As she rounded the corner, however, she noticed an ambient glow off of the road. Most of the land surrounding the road was wildly overgrown, given a dispute between the State proper and the legal limits of what constituted the town she grew up in, but there was no mistaking that something beyond her field of vision was on fire.
Searching frantically for a way off of the highway in the direction of the orange haze, Abby forced her vehicle off of the lane and partially into the overgrowth. She was moving on some relative of instinct, rushing towards the flame and danger instead of away from it. Her higher brain didn’t have time to catch up with what her body was doing. She found herself muttering, dimly surprised by what she was thinking.
“My parents, my only shot, she knew my parents, I have to-“ She was cut off mid-sentence when she broke through the overgrowth, suddenly emerging on a small clearing with what normally would have looked like a cozy cottage if not for the gout of flame eating its way across the roof. Part of Abby’s mind fixated on the fact there was a car here without there being any discernable way for it to have arrived.
It didn’t look like the flames had done too much yet. Somehow the roof had caught on fire without the inside of the building glowing yellow yet, maybe there was a chance she could get in to make sure anyone inside would be okay. As she started towards the door, full of reckless abandon, she wondered if the speeding vehicle that passed her had been the owner, burning it down and fleeing.
“Two cars?” she quizzed herself, agog at her own ability to have a conversation with herself while also potentially killing herself by rushing into a burning building. Any marvel at what was going on was lost upon entry.
The layout of the room wasn’t dissimilar to the layout of most of the homes she had visited in her township. Obvious living room, unlit but evident from the back of the sofa that was facing her, met by a dining room of sorts, lit by a small lamp. Sitting at the table was a woman in an impeccable suit, dark blue. Immaculately groomed nails at the tips of her fingers, she seemed mostly the perfect picture of someone waiting for a business meeting from the neck down. Mostly, on account of the huge splash of dark red covering the front of her suit and shirt. From the neck up, Miss Lawyer Woman had been split from ear to ear, emptying the contents of her veins all over herself while her head lulled back in a terrific way.
“Oh, god oh god, Jesus fuck...” She began to stammer, her eyes flitting over the scene and unfortunately drinking in the picture. From the angle Abby stood at, she was privy to too many details of the unfortunate woman, including the color of her eyes. Her mouth was open in a distorted, silent plea of mercy that wouldn’t come. Abby fought herself to look away, but realized her body wasn’t listening to her anymore. She heard a crackling pop from above her, suddenly reminded that the building was on fire. That was when Miss Lawyer Woman tilted her head up, blinking and gazed absently around the room. Abby’s heart was in her throat and
-pid to
show up in the middle of the night, Maggie.” The voice was decidedly male,
raspy and low. There was a strange quirk to the accent in that there didn’t
seem to be one. The words sounded off somehow, unnatural. Miss Lawyer Woman,
apparently Maggie, responded.
“He and I both knew it had to happen tonight, one way or the other. I couldn’t run from you for another day anyway.” Her tone was cold, calculated, and resigned.
“Aye, that’s true. Almost caught up to you yesterday.”
There was a measured silence between the two of them.
“Do you think killing me is going to stop her?” Maggie broke the quiet.
“No, I think not.” There were footsteps, heavy and dull, approaching from the other side of the table. A willow of a man, almost wispy, sat down on the opposite side of the table. In his hands was a large, curved knife. It was slightly bent, seemingly battered with wear. A sheath of rust crept along the blade making it look far more menacing than it should have been. “But I’m going to, anyway.”
“Why are you trying to stop her from finding out that her par-“
Maggie’s words stopped there, cut off as the man opposite her at the table blurred out of vision. Reality itself seemed to skip as he was suddenly behind Maggie, a handful of her perfectly groomed brown hair tightly gripped in hand, her head yanked back to expose her throat. The man she had been speaking to snarled, his face pallid in the lamplight, exposing sharp teeth that looked more like an animal than a man’s. He was hairless, cloaked in a heavy black raincoat that made him appear to meld into the shadows cast about the room. With one motion that miserable surface of his knife was drawn up to her flesh, and with a second flash of movement those diseased teeth bit into her, splitting her open and spilling her blood freely. A pathetic gurgling sound escaped the newly-split orifice, hands scrabbling weakly and
“He and I both knew it had to happen tonight, one way or the other. I couldn’t run from you for another day anyway.” Her tone was cold, calculated, and resigned.
“Aye, that’s true. Almost caught up to you yesterday.”
There was a measured silence between the two of them.
“Do you think killing me is going to stop her?” Maggie broke the quiet.
“No, I think not.” There were footsteps, heavy and dull, approaching from the other side of the table. A willow of a man, almost wispy, sat down on the opposite side of the table. In his hands was a large, curved knife. It was slightly bent, seemingly battered with wear. A sheath of rust crept along the blade making it look far more menacing than it should have been. “But I’m going to, anyway.”
“Why are you trying to stop her from finding out that her par-“
Maggie’s words stopped there, cut off as the man opposite her at the table blurred out of vision. Reality itself seemed to skip as he was suddenly behind Maggie, a handful of her perfectly groomed brown hair tightly gripped in hand, her head yanked back to expose her throat. The man she had been speaking to snarled, his face pallid in the lamplight, exposing sharp teeth that looked more like an animal than a man’s. He was hairless, cloaked in a heavy black raincoat that made him appear to meld into the shadows cast about the room. With one motion that miserable surface of his knife was drawn up to her flesh, and with a second flash of movement those diseased teeth bit into her, splitting her open and spilling her blood freely. A pathetic gurgling sound escaped the newly-split orifice, hands scrabbling weakly and
Abby
screamed. Her hands fled to her throat and came away wet and shiny red, and she
screamed. The heat from the fire was pressing down on her, chomping away at the
cheap wallpaper and wall without discrimination. Abby continued screaming,
clambering up from the floor she had somehow collapsed onto, the events and
impressions still fresh in her mind, the bite of the knife still fresh in her
neck.
Hysterical, she bounded from the room. Maggie’s lifeless corpse was still seated at the table, her expression unchanged from their first encounter. Something snapped, cracked, shuddered, and the ceiling began to collapse onto itself. Abby tore down the steps and towards her car as fast as she could carry herself, screaming all the while.
Hysterical, she bounded from the room. Maggie’s lifeless corpse was still seated at the table, her expression unchanged from their first encounter. Something snapped, cracked, shuddered, and the ceiling began to collapse onto itself. Abby tore down the steps and towards her car as fast as she could carry herself, screaming all the while.
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