Before her father left for his flight, Avery sat down with both her parents the next morning. She didn’t want to talk about it in front of the kids, but she wanted to know what they’d heard about this flu. Her father told her that he’d seen a little footage in the airport waiting for his flight home last week. Her mother said she’d heard about it on the radio driving to town the other day. Neither seemed worried, though. They assured her that their family’s limited interaction with people in the more populated cities also limited their possibility of getting sick. The last child who was sick was Faith, and that was three years ago when she’d contracted Chicken Pox. They assured her it was nothing to fear. They both also warned her not to believe everything she saw on the internet.
Avery didn’t go into detail about her attack at the bar still. She didn’t want to scare them or have her father take her to the doctor again. Instead, she helped her mother make a big breakfast so they could eat together before he had to go. The children filed in one by one and also pitched in helping. They had a noisy but nice breakfast together before he had to get ready to leave.
After he kissed everyone goodbye, her father kissed her mother in the foyer for a long time, each whispering, her mother occasionally laughing. Then he left out the drive in his sleek black Mercedes and beeped the horn once like he always did.
“You should get ready and take those cookies to the base,” her mother stated. “Kaia could go with you.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she explained.
“No?”
“Um, Tristan stopped here last evening to give me back my phone. Turns out they found it at the bar and gave it to him to give to me.”
“That was nice of him,” her mother commented. “And you, in turn, gave him the cookies?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered as she wiped down the countertop. “I didn’t want to have to go out there. I-I don’t really like that guy.”
“Avery,” Ophelia said, wanting her attention. Avery turned to face her mother. “I don’t want you getting involved romantically with one of my patients. That would be unethical. I wouldn’t be able to treat Tristan any longer.”
She snorted and scoffed dramatically. “No way. I just said I don’t like him. He’s not my type.”
“You have a type? I would think you’d have to actually go on more than the three or four dates you’ve been on with men to develop an affinity for one sort or another.”
“I’m not interested in him. He’s…he’s…hm, he’s got a lot of tattoos.”
Her mother laughed gaily, confusing Avery.
“What?” she asked.
“That would be a deciding factor as to whether or not you’d be attracted to someone, Avery?”
“Of course,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “They’re gross.”
Ophelia laughed again, this time more gently and reached out to stroke Avery’s hair back from her forehead.
“Oh, my love,” she said on a soft sigh. “So young. So much to learn still.”
With that, Ophelia left the kitchen and went to the hallway where Abraham and Kaia were doing their schoolwork. Avery was left to stand there wondering what her mother just meant. She felt genuinely confused.
She worked for the remainder of the day on sketches and uploaded them into her system as her siblings did their school, and her mother saw patients. Her mind kept wandering to that night at the bar. Mostly it did so because every time she leaned against her drafting table, the pain of her bruised ribs bumping it caused her to jump. That man had been so insane.
As she was finishing the final draft of the new brochure that would explain to patients their hospital of choice, The Cleveland Clinic, Canton location, she kept thinking about that man’s garbled speech. Avery printed the brochure, front and back sides, took it off the printer and tacked it onto the magnetic strip of her drafting table. She leaned against her stool’s flexible backrest and clasped her hands behind her head, interlinking her fingers and studying the final product. She swiveled her stool to snatch a green sticky strip of paper from behind her on the desk. She pressed it against the glossy copy. All in all, she was happy with it. The other three beside it had varying shades of sticky post-its attached to them, all with their own meaning. This design was the finished, cleaned up version of the one she’d taken in with her when she’d given her proposal presentation. She was fairly confident they’d like this version even better.
Avery arched her back and winced. Again, her ribs pinched. Her arm was sore, too. She couldn’t stop her mind from lingering on that night.
Instead of dwelling on it, she began drawing a new design, something that would be eye-catching yet conservative for what would become the front page of the hospital’s revised and updated website. When she uploaded this image, she could manipulate it, make it move, or fade in or out, or swirl. She wasn’t sure what it would be yet. She never did until the design came to life under her fingertips.
Avery took a break a few hours later and made herself a coffee. While she waited for it to brew her single cup serving, complete with froth, she noticed the two mugs from last night in her sink. It was strange, a little surreal, seeing someone else’s mug next to hers. Other than her girlfriends, nobody had ever been up here. And now Tristan had. Twice. Once when she was out of it from the pain medication the doctor insisted on at the hospital that was clearly too strong for her. And the second time when she’d been nearly naked in only a silk robe. Her life could not possibly get more embarrassing right now.
It bothered her, his cup in her sink, so she washed them both and put them away where they belonged. Then she took her mug of fresh coffee back to her office and worked for another hour. When she uploaded her drawing, she began changing and manipulating it digitally. Unfortunately, her wrist was sore, another leftover reminder of the other night.
She laced up her hiking shoes and decided to take a break. That’s how her days usually went anyway. They were broken up by work, exercise, and time with her family. Then she’d work until the wee hours of the morning, which was when her creativity kicked in.
Avery wasn’t much of a runner, but she did enjoy a good long hike. She texted her brothers to see if they wanted to go. Abraham said he was in the middle of a Calculus test, and the others were in the basement playing carpet ball or studying. Her mother was probably only allowing it because it was drizzling rain. She wished the sun was out because they still hadn’t closed the pool down for the year. Maybe she’d get in the hot tub later. That might help her soreness, too.
She texted her sisters next, as she kept them on separate group threads. The younger ones were playing on the trampoline outside and didn’t want to go. Kaia explained that she finished early and went to her friend’s house in her car, something their parents had just given her. It was her first car. Technically it was her mother’s old car, a gray Honda Titus. It was small and compact. They’d offered it to either Kaia or Abraham, but he had not wanted it because of the small size. Her brother was not. He’d always looked a little funny in it. He had a part-time job doing accounting work for one of the oil companies in their county, so his father had agreed to a negotiated deal of paying for half the cost of the vehicle Abraham wanted, an old Porsche, which he’d had his eye on for years that their father’s friend owned. It needed some work but ran beautifully. Avery wasn’t into cars like her father and brothers. As long as it started and went forward when she pushed on the gas, that was all she required.
Foregoing the companionship of her siblings, she set out with the collar of her raincoat pulled high and the hood pulled low. She noticed the black sedan parked at the entry to her mother’s office, a patient. She knew it wasn’t Tristan. Thank God. He drove a big truck, of course.
She headed down one of their paths through the woods and cranked up the music in her earphones, this time listening to the restless strains of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto Number 2.
Avery hiked about a mile according to the tracker on her wrist and kept going. When she crested one of the hills in their woods, she could view the big white farm of Jasper and Annie Stephens. They were both gone now, she of cancer, and he of an accident but mostly of broken-heartedness. Mr. Stephens was really sweet, but his wife always sent Avery and her siblings a lot of openly judgmental stares at church. Not everyone approved of her family’s choices, namely to be homeschooled or to be raised as free-range kids. So far, knock on wood, none of them were pregnant, on drugs, or addicted to alcohol or their electronics, which she’d heard a lot of parents complain about over the years.
The Stephens had three nephews who lived in the city, care of his sister and her husband. The boys used to come down in the summer during school break to visit their aunt and uncle and stay on the farm. Her mother once told her that the Stephens could not have children, so they loved the visits in the summer with their nephews. Avery remembered feeling so sad for them. Growing up in a home filled with children, she couldn’t imagine couples not being able to have children of their own. It must’ve been awfully quiet in between visits with their nephews.
She and her siblings had befriended the boys almost immediately, too. Alex Brannon was older, about four years older than her at the time. And Elijah Brannon was one year younger than her, and their little brother Stevie, who she couldn’t remember as well because he was a lot younger and didn’t always get to come on their visits. But they were fun, used to run through the woods with them playing airsoft. She and her siblings, in turn, climbed the rafters in their uncle’s dairy barns, chased the cows, and played down at the lake between the two properties. Then when their uncle passed, they never came to visit anymore. The boys’ parents inherited the farm, closed up the house, and sold all the cows and equipment. That was about three or four years ago. Her father ran into Alex and Elijah’s father once in town when he said he’d just come down for the day to check on the place. Mr. Brannon told her father that his own wife had also passed away just like her sister-in-law, Annie Stephens, from cancer and that the boys weren’t taking it too well. Avery remembered overhearing her father telling her mother in private later as they sat in his office listening to music and sipping wine that Mr. Brannon also wasn’t looking so great. That was last they’d heard about them. She often wondered what they were up to but didn’t have their phone numbers or even their address to go up and visit them. As a girl so close with her own mother, Avery couldn’t imagine what they must’ve gone through. At least they still had their father.
She hiked another three miles through their woods full of brilliant fall foliage and their neighbor’s woods because she knew they didn’t care. Mr. Stephens had never said a word about her or her siblings being on their property. After Mr. Brannon took possession of it, he hadn’t changed that rule. As far as she knew, it still hadn’t been sold by Alex and Elijah’s father, either. They still owned the farm but weren’t doing anything with it. Maybe it was just too painful to deal with it. Avery wondered if she’d ever see his sons over there again. It would be neat to reunite with them again and learn what was going on in their lives.
Circling their farm, she came out to the gravel road that led to her home. She was about two miles away, a good finish to her long walk. She was actually getting hungry, so she tried to send a text to her mother to see if dinner was started. If it wasn’t, she’d help when she got back. The message wouldn’t send through. She should’ve known better. They only got reception on this road at the top of the last hill and the next one about a half mile away.
She listened to a radio news station as she passed their only neighbor in this direction, the Campbell family, who were nice but older and retired and without children living at home. Avery heard their dog, Charlie, barking at a near constant rate. That was unusual. She could hear it even with her headphones on, but she pushed them down to rest around her neck anyway. He was normally such a quiet dog. He was a huge English sheepdog, a herder, who mostly only herded treats from his masters or anyone else who gave in. She’d wanted a dog her whole life, but her mother wasn’t a fan of indoor pets, hated cats and said she was allergic to dogs, but Avery figured she just told the kids that to deter nagging about getting a dog. Ephraim had an African Grey parrot named Mr. Gray, which he kept in his bedroom that was one room over from Abraham’s in the basement. Subsequently, Abraham complained sometimes that the bird talked too much. Avery wasn’t a fan. Probably because it had pecked her once really hard when they first got it. Over the last four years of ownership, Ephraim assured her many times that Mr. Gray would never do that again, but she was not going to believe him. During the day, he kept Mr. Gray in the atrium room, which was a long, narrow, glass-enclosed room with a porch swing on either end and contained all of her mother’s tropical flowers and greens that needed more heat and humidity than everything else. Her father had the room built just for her because she loved orchids and Chinese evergreens, rubber trees, succulents, lilies, Bird of Paradise plants, and other varieties of flowers. There was even an overhead sprayer that misted every so often during the day and a water fountain in the middle of the glass room. It was like a tropical jungle in there but was also a peaceful place to lounge and read. To say her mother had a green thumb was an understatement. Avery enjoyed working in their vegetable and herb garden in the summer and liked helping can the produce in the late summer, but she was nothing like her mother. She had one small cactus on the windowsill in her apartment’s kitchen and figured it was probably going to die.
Faith and Joy shared a room and had a small aquarium with fish. Fish were acceptable pets to her mother. But Ophelia didn’t like the texture of animal fur, so she didn’t allow dogs or cats inside. They had a small flock of chickens, but they certainly weren’t inside pets anyway, although Joy often carried them around outside petting them like they were. Her mother was all about healthy eating, organic, clean and all that, thus the chickens for the eggs. Someday, though, Avery wanted a dog of her own. Maybe even something small and hypoallergenic that would like cuddling on the sofa in the evening while she read a book or worked on her laptop.
Something was wrong with Charlie the sheepdog, though. When she got home, she was going to text Mrs. Campbell and make sure the dog was okay. He sounded very upset about something. It was hard to put her finger on it. Charlie just didn’t sound happy.
The sun began to set as she crested the next hill and sent the text to her mother, who said dinner would be ready by the time she got back. She returned it with a smiling face emoji.
The wind picked up, putting a chill in the damp air. The rain had finally stopped, but she was fairly wet even with her waterproof hikers and water repellent jacket. Her fingers were getting cold.
Somewhere in the woods to her right, a branch snapped. Avery stopped along the side of the gravel road and peered into the forest. It was getting dark, and the rain had brought with it a fog that was settling in on the valley, so all she could see were patches of inky blackness and gray shadows with silver mist encroaching around them. She pushed her hood back to rest on top of the headphones around her neck. She waited.
Then another stick broke, making the same sound they did when she stepped on one. Was someone in there? She held her breath and counted to ten. It was silly to be afraid, and yet, something cool blew across the back of her neck, something she knew and recognized as apprehension. Avery took a few steps retreating backward into the middle of the road and waited. Nothing. She breathed slowly, even held her breath straining to listen and search through the silence.
A series of noises came next, startling her: rustling leaves, brush being moved, more broken and snapped twigs. The sounds were getting closer. She didn’t need a written invitation. She wasn’t going to be one of those stupid bimbos in a horror flick like Renee enjoyed watching and dragged her along to every time a new one came out to the theater. Avery bolted. She told herself it was to get a little faster cardio at the end of her walk. It was a lie, but she was even okay with that. Lying to oneself wasn’t really a lie or a sin. It didn’t count.
About thirty yards into her healthy jog- fueled probably by irrational fear- she heard something skid across the gravel far behind her. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. She just kept going, picking up the pace. She crested a gentle hill and could finally see the lighting marking the driveway entrance to her home. Someone at the house must’ve turned them on for her. Probably her mother. She was appreciative as never before.
Something made a noise in the woods to the left of the road this time. How could it have possibly caught up to her? Whatever it was, it was moving on four legs to have eliminated her lead. A bear or the occasional bobcat would be spotted in this county, but nothing had been reported lately. Mr. Campbell always called over when he heard of something in the area because he knew how much she and her siblings walked the woods and spent a lot of time out of doors.
The start of their fencing to her right signified home. She wasn’t there yet. It seemed so far off, those driveway lights. The fog was thickening as the sun set lower. Avery pumped her arms and legs harder as her lungs began to burn. Whatever was in the woods was definitely tracking and stalking her. She could hear it not trying at all to be quiet now.
She slid on the gravel coming down a slight hill and almost went down. Avery panicked and was going too fast to stay safely on her feet. She had to slow down but knew she couldn’t. In fact, she ran as if Abraham, who was the fastest kid in the family, was on her tail in a game of kick the can.
Their driveway with the stone pillars and lanterns was only fifty yards away. Then she heard something that sent a shiver up her spine so hard she was surprised she was able to stay upright. It was a loud screech of pure anger and terror. A primal scream would be the only way she could properly assign it a name. It was blood-curdling, terrifying to the core. Whatever was chasing her had made that sound. It echoed down through the woods on either side of the road. She wasn’t entirely convinced it was an animal. Not entirely. It crashed through the underbrush and tree branches behind her to the left, likely coming onto the road again.
What she heard next made her cry out in fear as she rounded the corner for her driveway and slammed her palm on the automatic gate mechanism. Avery didn’t even stop. She kept going, hoping the gate closed fast enough to keep out whatever was after her. The wrought iron was nearly eight feet tall and heavy-duty and carried in the middle of the panel her father’s family crest, hand-forged in different metals and elaborately shaped.
She actually fell on her bottom going down the driveway but sprang right back to her feet instantly. Her ankle felt a little sprained, but that wasn’t about to stop her.
Then she heard whatever it was out there hit their gate. Knowing it was only probably six seconds behind her all that time, just enough time for the gate to slide home into its housing caused her not to slow down. The rattling of the gate was loud in the deafening silence of the still evening. Then the heavy gate was rattled and jarred roughly on its secure hinges. She hoped they were secure and the locking mechanism held. She also hoped it didn’t scale the gate.
Avery made it to the house, the soft amber glow and normally comforting view of her family through the long panels of glass as they all bustled around inside carrying large platters of food to the table did not provide her any reassurance tonight. She didn’t go to her apartment but burst through the door to her parents’ home. Spinning, Avery slammed the door so hard she feared the glass might break. She turned the deadbolt and stepped back, fully expecting something to come crashing into it.
“Avery, darling,” her mother said, approaching from behind her.
“Turn off the music,” she said softly, her lungs burning, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth from running so far and so hard without the proper training. Her heart was beating so frantically, she feared it might explode.
“What?” Ophelia asked confusedly.
“Now! Turn it off!” she screamed and didn’t wait for her mother. She hurried to the control panel on the wall and slapped at the stop button. Then she engaged their home security system, something they rarely used unless they were all going to be out of town together on a vacation or something similar.
“Ave, what the heck?” Abraham asked with concern, walking up to her drying his hands on a white kitchen linen.
“Something…” she tried to explain but couldn’t.
“Darling, you’re shaking like a leaf,” her mother commented.
“What happened, Ave?” he asked again and stepped toward the glass entry doors.
“Abraham! Get back from the doors,” she screeched hysterically.
“What…?” he murmured and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Abraham, go around and make sure all the doors are locked and the kids are all inside,” she ordered loudly.
“Darling…” her mother started, but Avery cut her off.
“Mom! Stop! Something was just chasing me down our road. I barely got away!”
Her mother’s gray eyes widened, and she dashed away with Abraham. She could hear them calling the children. Avery turned on all the outdoor spotlights and cut the interior lights in the kitchen, entryway, and dining room. Soon, the noise and usual commotion of her family died down, and everyone gathered around her with concerned faces. Abraham was holding Finnegan on his hip. Her little brother was only seven. He frightened a little easier than the older kids.
She dashed to the wall unit again and hit the button for 9-1-1 on the open speaker system. It went to a busy signal. That didn’t make sense. She tried it two more times before getting a dispatcher on the built-in speaker.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Yes, this is Avery Andersson. I live on Meadowbrook Lane. There’s something in our neighborhood. It…it just chased me down the road. I almost didn’t get away from it. Please, send help.”
“I have your address and location. Ma’am, are you someplace safe?”
How to answer that. “Yes, I’m in my home.”
“Lock all the doors and if you have a firearm…”
“We don’t.”
“Make sure all the doors and windows are locked. We’re exceptionally busy tonight with similar calls. It’s going to be a while before we can get out to you, Miss Andersson.”
“What?” Abraham whispered to the group.
Avery blurted, “How long?”
“At least an hour, ma’am.”
“Please, hurry!” Avery cut the call impatiently.
“An hour?” Kaia asked the rest of the group.
Her mother seemed as displeased as she was. “Listen, everyone, I want the littlest ones to stay here with Kaia and Cyrus. Abraham and Ephraim, I want you to come with me. Avery, you, too.”
She led them down the hall to one of the bigger pantry closets and shut the door.
“What happened?” Ophelia immediately asked. “You say a man was chasing you, darling?”
“Yes, no,” she tried to tell them. “I don’t know…what it was.”
Avery explained very quickly as her knees quaked and her hands trembled. Just reliving it was terrifying. By the time she was done, her mother ordered Abraham and Ephraim to check every window and door of the house again.
Two hours later, the police finally showed up, buzzing the gate, which they rarely closed. Avery told them what happened, and they promised to canvas the neighborhood. Whatever it was, was probably gone by now. It felt pointless even telling them. She even tried to get information from them. They weren’t responsive to her prodding. Apparently, she didn’t have the skills of Tristan Driscoll.
Her mother wanted her to stay in the house, but she insisted she would be fine in the apartment. It was already embarrassing enough. Her mind was starting to doubt what she’d felt had happened. The same thing had occurred after the attack at the bar. She had tried to rationalize the whole incident away. Her brother walked her to her apartment, though, and found a folding chair in the garage and told her to prop it under the door. He tried to stay, but she refused. She forced him to text her when he got back in the house safely, and he did.
As she lay in her bed a while later, Avery stared at the wall of windows. Tristan was right. She needed a locking door to her apartment. Tomorrow, first thing, she was going to town to get one and…and what? Install it? She had no idea what to get or how to do it. Maybe Abraham would. She’d just drag him to town with her.
Much later in her bed, she pulled the covers up a little higher and tried not to think about what had happened. Surely it wasn’t what she thought. Surely not. That would just be too much. There was no such thing as coincidence. There were just facts and events. Her mother and two oldest brothers had believed her enough to be scared into action, though. She hadn’t even told them the worst part. It was inconceivable, even to her. She hadn’t told them about the scream. She hadn’t told the other thing, the most terrifying thing. Avery hadn’t told them about the man’s voice in the woods or the horrific, disjointed and broken speech.