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Are you nearly here? xx
The unread text on the phone’s screen darkened the forest around her, as shadows crept closer to Ella. Bertha was late — again.
Ella shivered and pulled her jacket close, the faux fur collar tickling her neck. Her foot tapped the damp tarmac of the car park, that shimmered a faint reflection of the solitary orange lamp at the gate.
Why did I let her talk me into this? Ella wondered, her mind throwing flashes of Bertha’s suggestion of a late night forest walk - the latest fad of Bertha’s summer bod training.
“It’ll be quiet,” Bertha had said, “No-one but us and nature.”
It sounded like a good idea at the time, but standing alone on the cusp of the forest, Ella wished they had just stuck to the fifty-squat-a-day plan.
A rustle and the snap of a twig from the darkness brought Ella back to reality with a jump, goosebumps rising painfully on her flesh. Widened eyes saw nothing in the dark, and her phone’s torch beams surrendered to the shadows well before the first tree. She stood frozen to the spot, the wind wailing overhead, the unseen branches clawing at one another, an owl hooting its solemn warning to the night.
Bertha! Where are you!? Hurry up!! xx
The ping of the text was consumed into the night by the wind, and the forest continued its nightly cacophony.
Ella shifted her weight from foot to foot, the chill groping at her all the while.
Why didn’t I bring my own car!? She lamented to herself, the realisation of her isolation dawning on her. She told herself she would phone her father if Bertha wasn’t there in the next five minutes, a pang of guilt stabbing at her with the thought of her poor Daddy having to leave the warm comfort of his armchair.
The approaching rumble of a car engine broke her thoughts. The headlights blinded her as the car turned into the car park, its shape and colour bringing an exasperated smile to Ella’s face.
About time!
The gravel crunched beneath the tyres, the car groaning to a stop just through the gates. The lights glared. The engine turned. But the car didn’t move any further.
Ella threw her arms wide.
“Come on Bertha!” she shouted. The car purred and remained stationary. She fired off a text.
Bertha, quit messing, I’m cold! xx
No movement.
I am not Bertha.
The ping of the reply stung at Ella’s ears. She rolled her eyes, thumbs dancing across the phone.
Right... you’re so dumb. Get out of the car Bertha!! It’s so cold! You’re getting on my nerves!! xx
Ella stared at the car, in full expectation that the engine would cut and Bertha would emerge with her usual roguish grin.
I am not Bertha.
Ella’s nostrils flared wide, brow furrowing, the headlights staring back. She marched over and banged against the tinted window, the belly of the car swallowed in darkness, obscuring everything within.
“Get out of the car Bertha! Now!”
Her hand vibrated with the ping on a new message.
I am not Bertha.
“This is so dumb. I’m going home. Screw you, Bertha.”
I am not Bertha.
“Ugh!” Ella slapped the window again with her free hand, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She turned to walk away, paused, and turned back leaning to peer through the blackened glass.
“I see you, Bertha! You’re so dumb,” Ella lied, seeing nothing but her own breath on the glass.
I am not Bertha.
Ella turned her phone’s torch on, pressing it hard to the glass and peered in once again.
Her screams filled the forest but were drowned beneath a piercing wail that swallowed her.
“I am not Bertha!”
––––––––
“No sign of them in the forest, Sarge. No signs of disturbance either.”
The constable stood awkwardly before sergeant Grace McGee, who nodded slowly.
“Thanks Gerard,” Grace said, eyes still fixed on the car, abandoned in the centre of the car park, surrounded by fragments of glass, congealed and dried blood coating both the inside and out.
“Go on back to the station, write up a report. I’ll wait for forensics. Should be here soon.”
The constable took his leave, blue lights flashing silently down the road.
The wind flayed the trees overhead, flowering leaves down around Grace. An unseen bird hooted in the distance. Grace shivered and coughed to clear her throat.
Behind her, the shuffle of feet and the snap of twigs drew near. She turned to find the forest staring back at her.
“Hello?”
Silence responded. The wind held its breath.
“Ella? Bertha?”
From the obscurity of the trees, something shifted, moved, twigs snapping closer. The voice surrounded her.
“I am not Bertha.”