Saturday was another non-stop day for Rayshell and her family, but their hard work had paid off. By three o’clock in the afternoon, they packed the moving truck with the final load. Elizabeth and Jakobe set out on their way while Tobias and Rayshell stayed behind to wrap up odds and ends. Rayshell would have otherwise been less than thrilled to take on the numerous responsibilities, but with Tobias at her side, she was smiling the entire time. Fortunately, their busy agenda also kept her from thinking about their encounter with Shawn at the bowling alley and the sight of his scared, bloody face.
Tobias took her by the hand just as her eyes fell into the maturing afternoon sky. “Ready?” he asked.
“Fuck yeah!” Rayshell cheered. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“This might sound lame, but I’m happy to be a part of it.”
After a kiss, they rounded up the overflowing garbage bags.
“Do you need to say goodbye to anyone?” he asked as he led the way downstairs.
Rayshell shook her head. “Nah. There aren’t any other kids here, and most of the adults look like creeps.”
Tobias rearranged a few donation boxes in the pickup truck while Rayshell sprinted to the office to drop off the keys her mother had packed in a yellow clasp envelope. It was a relief to relinquish them, and she would have recorded the drop for her brother if she had a working phone.
“I can’t believe this is it,” she confessed. As Tobias reversed the truck out of the parking space, she turned back toward their old apartment door and flipped it off.
“You hated it that much?” he said and slid on his sunglasses.
She nodded while dusting off her black and gray striped shirt as though his comment had sullied it.
While Rayshell listed each of the annoyances that came to mind, Tobias inched out of the parking lot, looking for an opportunity to cut into the intersection.
“… and I’ve already told you about having to do our laundry across the street. That was the worst. I hated staying while my clothes were washing because people always tried to talk to me, and if I just left, then—”
Rayshell paused mid-sentence as a familiar tan station wagon caught her eye from the left. Once the turn signal started to blink, her face flushed, and a searing urge to flee overtook her.
In a serious tone that grew louder each time she repeated the word, she ordered, “Drive.”
“You want me just to blitzkrieg into the middle of traffic? What’s gotten into you?!”
“For fuck’s sake. Just go!” she yelled, then quickly ducked into his lap as Jack slowed to turn into the parking lot.
Tobias was keen on the fact her strange behavior stemmed from the approaching vehicle, but with nowhere to safely turn, he had to stay in place. Jack turned into the parking lot and hit his back tire on the curb on the way in. Hiding his embarrassment, Jack rested his eyes upon Tobias’ neutral yet watchful gaze, hidden behind dark lenses. Their eye contact lasted a short moment, but for Tobias and his pilot, time felt like it stopped. Kumiko immediately sensed his unmistakably dreadful Daeva energy. It saturated the air like a vile stench wafting upon decrepit and stifling wind. Neither Kumiko nor his host knew who the individual was, but there was no denying he was someone Rayshell was trying to avoid.
Mid-day traffic seized again, but Tobias managed to inch his truck through an opening. After they passed through a third traffic signal, he put his hand on Rayshell’s shoulder to signal she was safe, though she was hesitant to correct her posture.
“You okay?” asked Tobias as he turned onto the freeway onramp.
“Yeah,” she whispered while wiping the tears from her eyes. “Remember what I told you at the bowling alley? That there are people after me.”
“Was he one of them?”
Rayshell nodded. “That’s Jack. I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. But something about him just changed all of a sudden.”
“Changed? What do you mean?”
“It was like one minute he was the same Jack I always remembered, then just days later, he was different. And the things he said when he didn’t know I was listening. I-I’m just afraid to be anywhere near him.”
After Rayshell and Tobias completed their drop-off at the donation station, they continued to the new house. Silence returned to the cab, and Rayshell looked out the window nervously. Only one more day remained before school resumed, where she would need to act with an even more heightened sense of caution. Sadly, the feeling of sanctuary she anticipated with the conclusion of the move began to elude her.
Jack, piloted by the gluttonous Nathaniel, sat in his car for as long as it took him to finish a large bag of spicy onion hot chips, two cans of soda, and a small box of individually wrapped dessert cakes. After stuffing the plastic wrappers back into the colorful box, he shoved it into the pile of trash behind his seat and sucked his messy fingertips clean. The mixture of residual oils and saliva made it difficult for him to grip the chrome-plated door handle, though he eventually managed to exit the car. The brisk air immediately cleared his sinuses of the funky, metamorphic stench brewing inside the cab as he pulled the thick sienna sweater down over his plump belly.
The apartment complex was eerily quiet. Jack looked up to the darkening sky just in time to catch a glimpse of the powdery moon amidst a break in the low, racing clouds. A gust of wind scraped against his backside. Jolted by a chill, he pulled down his sweater again and finally recognized that it no longer fit the shape of his figure the same way it did a week ago.
After a short breather at the midway point, Jack ascended the staircase. His possessor was a bit nervous about interacting with Elizabeth if she were home, but pressured himself to investigate under the growing suspicion that something was awry. To keep his approach casual, he chose to come alone. Once he reached their door, he stood before it until the moment of courage slipped ahead of his anxiety. He rapped, then fidgeted while waiting for an answer that never came. Puzzled, he put his ear to the door but heard only silence. He knocked in waves of growing intensity until he stopped just shy of kicking the door in.
Jack groaned, then took a moment to rest against the banister while he caught his breath. While he pondered where Rayshell and the rest of her family could be, a shadowy figure peeked out of the neighboring apartment.
“Excuse me?” a modest, gritty voice called out. “Are you looking for the Stones?”
“The wh-yeah,” Jack said, assuming it was Rayshell’s surname. “Indeed I am.”
The older woman inched inside the threshold in response to Jack’s swift gait. She picked up her large thick glasses dangling from a thin golden chain over her chest and squinted at him as she put them on. Her grayish-blue eyes hesitantly studied his bulky figure.
“Well, it seems you just missed them.”
“What do you mean? Did they go to dinner without me?” Jack belly-rolled and rubbed his hands over his stomach. Once it was apparent there would be no rejoinder, he sighed a heavy breath.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you just missed them.”
Jack folded his arms and replied, “I’m not sure I follow.”
“They’re gone.”
Jack pursed his lips. “Gone?”
“They’re not here anymore.”
“Mildred, you’re confusin’ the poor man,” her husband called out from the front room.
Jack peeked into the dim living room after she threw up her hands in defeat.
“They jus’ finished movin’.” The older man paused his television and cleared his throat. “Wrapped up the last trip not long before you started poundin’.”
Jack struggled to hide his manner of shock. “Do you know where they moved to?” he asked.
“Sure don’t. Most we’ve exchanged were the occasional hi’s and byes with ’em.”
“I see. Well, ah, I appreciate the help,” said Jack as he stepped back onto their welcome mat.
The man put his hand in the air to bid him farewell. Soon after, Mildred appeared out of nowhere and abruptly slammed the front door. Jack closed his eyes as the gust of wind rolled over him. Fighting to control the anxious rage that welled in his gut, he took out his cell phone, which he rarely used for anything else but ordering food, and dialed out.
Sprawled atop their living room couch, Laura wore a completely checked-out look. The blinds were drawn, and the room was dark, aside from the sickly white glow from the television.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking. And yes. This necklace is definitely one-of-a-kind. Quantities are limited, so be sure to call now ….” the television persuaded as the home phone rang.
Laura groaned as she shuffled into the kitchen on stiff legs. “Hello?” she answered impatiently.
“They’re gone!” Nathaniel yelled into the receiver as he walked to the car.
Startled, she nearly lost her grip on the phone. “Gone?”
“Yes. All of them. Gone. I can’t believe this is happening. Joro and Merisek are going to be furious!”
“Slow down!” demanded Eitha as she turned off the television. “Now, what happened?”
“Well, my darling wife,” Nathaniel began sarcastically, “I found out from a couple of would-be corpses who live next door that Rayshell and her family moved. They’ve packed, and they’re gone.” He swung open his car door and plopped into the driver’s seat.
Eitha caught Brian peeking into the room around the corner. “If this isn’t a coincidence, then she’s a clever girl,” she said while ushering him down the hall to his bedroom. “This is all your fault, you know.”
“My fault?! How do you figure?”
“Because!” she roared as she slammed Brian’s door shut. “This was your show to run. Merisek was the one who put you in charge. Or did all those sweet treats rot your memory?”
“Oh, so we’re going to blame this on the food, now.”
“I’m blaming this on you! Not only have you stuck out like such a sore thumb this whole time, you’ve also refused to listen to anything I’ve had to say. If we did things my way—”
“Spare me, Eitha. I’m not going to listen to you badger me.” As Nathanial pondered, he scraped away at the gray cakey buildup around the steering wheel. “I have an idea.”
“You know what? I don’t care to hear it! Just fix this before Joro or Merisek catch wind of your incompetence!” Eitha hissed, then hung up the phone.
Nathaniel’s burning rage darkened Jack’s blank expression into a ferocious scowl. He tossed his phone into the passenger seat and firmly gripped the steering wheel with sweaty hands. Though it was more palatable to assume that Rayshell’s departure was happenstance and that she would soon check in with an update, his instincts sided with the notion she was wise to their charade. Brimming with frustration, he vented with a short-lived, fiery tantrum and didn’t consider his lack of privacy until he finished. Sure enough, he discovered Mildred peering at him from behind her foggy window with judging eyes. He kept his scowl intact as he started his car and then recklessly peeled out of the parking lot.
“Can I, um, help you?” asked a thin woman with stringy hair as she flipped through a stack of receipts behind a plexiglass window.
With a beaming smile and nervous eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, Jack sauntered to the faux granite counter. “Hello, ma’am,” he began in an overly polite manner. “I was, ah, looking for my niece’s schedule for this comin’ week.”
The woman cinched her lip at his inquiry, wondering if he had any idea how suspicious he looked. “Well, sir. Like my other associates have already explained to you, we can only give that information to a parent or guardian,” she stated and looked to where she thought his eyes were.
“I’m sorry that I keep asking. It’s just that I’m planning a little surprise for her after school. A late birthday present. It would be a shame for me to set everything up on a day she’s working.” Jack leaned in so that he could read her badge. The words ‘department manager’ were emblazoned in gold above her name.
“I understand, but—”
“Patricia,” he said, then smiled even harder. “My, that’s a pretty name.”
Taken aback by the disingenuous compliment, she sighed a defeated breath and clipped together the bundle of receipts. “Why don’t you just ask her parents for her schedule?”
“Well, I totally could. It’s just that I was here to pick up some—socks. So I figured, why not ask while I’m here.”
Patricia dusted the lint off her cerulean blue blazer, seizing a moment to compose herself. “Are you a parent, sir?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“Then I would hope that as a parent, you would appreciate why I can’t simply hand over information to anyone, no matter who they claimed to be.”
Apparent that his efforts were futile, Jack decided to give up. His wavering smile held on long enough for a simple yet cordial farewell before departing the manager’s station. Muttering a string of curses, he picked up the pace until he was full-blown barreling through the crowded aisles. After carelessly rounding a fully-stocked end cap, he bumped into a postpartum woman and her stroller. Amidst her panicked shriek, she caught her stroller from tipping over. Her newborn began to wail as she shouted after Jack for an explanation, but he didn’t so much as bat an eye. Furious yet focused, he continued through the automatic doors in an unheeding gait.
The evening sky was dark, and the frosty air stung Jack’s nostrils as he breathed furiously. He plucked the sunglasses from his face just as a young man slipped in front of a slower-moving couple at the edge of the parking lot. Once he hopped onto the curb, Jack spotted the young man’s name tag bouncing from the lanyard over his white hoodie. Thinking on his feet, he approached him with a wave.
“Hey Manny, have you seen Rayshell? I thought she was working today.”
Manny’s curious eyes rose to Jack. “Nah, she has the day off,” he answered. “She’s scheduled tomorrow, though. Seven to three, I think.”
“Got it,” he said, doing his best to keep a relaxed demeanor. “Have a good one.”
Without losing his pace, Manny took out his phone and started scrolling through a string of notifications. “You too, Frank,” he said, throwing up his hand. “I hope you were able to make a dent in that restock for me.”
It was then that Jack understood the reason for his good fortune. With a sly smile, he returned to his station wagon and excitedly ripped open a fresh box of snack cakes while he pondered his next move.
Illuminated by the dim yellow light of her bedside table lamp, Trish sat against her headboard half-tucked into her billowy comforter. Plagued by vivid nightmares, relentless intrusions of Lowenna’s memories, and a series of odd sensations throughout her body, she hadn’t the courage to leave her room the entire day.
She swept the drapery of her unruly curls to the side and stared into her open palm while another bizarre sensation churned beneath her skin. What began as a pleasantly warm swell in her veins quickly transpired into an uncomfortable vibration. Wincing, she watched her swollen hand jitter with tense and wary eyes. Though it felt like her arm would soon split into ribbons, she rejected the urgency to run to her father in the next room.
A long and thin vacillating hand began to trail away from Trish’s in what looked like a distorted reflection. The further the apparition pulled down her arm, the more painful the vibrations became. She closed her teary eyes and prepared herself to embrace the likely departure of the reticent Celestine within her, but suddenly the uncomfortable sensations waned. The phantom hand quickly merged with her own in a final series of tremulous movements. While gasping for air and clutching her throbbing arm, a gentle knock sounded.
“Sweetheart?” Greg called out. “Can I come in?”
Wide-eyed, Trish wiped the sweat from her brow and answered, “Sure, Dad,” as she grabbed one of her half-read books from the nightstand.
Before he stepped in, he clicked on her bedroom light.
“Geez, Dad. A warning next time?” she hissed with closed eyes.
After her father apologized, he asked, “Is everything okay? You’ve been in here all day. I don’t even think I’ve seen you come out to make lunch.”
With squinty eyes still trying to adjust to the bright light, Trish answered plainly, “I’m fine.”
Once it was apparent there would be nothing more to her statement, Greg leaned against the door casing and asked, “What’s got you so occupied in here?”
“Schoolwork. I was just taking a break to finish reading, um …” Trish quickly read the cover and stopped herself from announcing the embarrassing title. After cramming the would-be romance novel under her pillow, she nervously answered, “… something my friend let me borrow.”
With an arched eyebrow, Greg sat at the foot of her bed. “It’s getting late, and I bet you’re hungry.”
Trish rubbed her achy arm with her eyes on the floor, unsure how to tell her father she wanted to be alone.
“Wanna maybe head over to that vegan spot you like so much? It’s almost eight and a perfect time for dinner.”
Shaking her head, Trish answered, “I’m still in my pajamas, and I don’t really want to change.”
“That’s okay. We can get it to go.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
Disappointed that she declined her favorite restaurant but hopeful he could still engage her interest, Greg replied, “How about we pull out the ol’ ’que? There’s a bunch of stuff we can grill up. Like onions, mushrooms, chicken ….”
“Dad,” Trish whined as he continued listing ingredients.
“… broccoli.”
Trish’s adamancy vanished once she met her father’s sincere eyes.
“I’ll even eat it this time,” he said as he cracked a smile.
Wooed by his offer, she asked, “Promise?”
Greg reached over and patted her cold, sockless foot sticking out from underneath her comforter. “I promise.”
Trish clipped up her rebellious, unbrushed hair, threw on one of her favorite puntastic sweatshirts, then met her father in the kitchen. She grabbed a knife and began to cube some of the vegetables he had finished washing.
“We don’t have to eat the broccoli, you know,” she said as her father held a crown of it under hot water.
With a disgusted expression, he answered back, “No, no. I made a promise. Just try and make it tasty.”
“Looks like you’re more bothered by the smell than the taste,” she teased as she caught a whiff of the sulfuric odor coming from the sink.
Greg sighed defeatedly. “It tastes exactly what it smells like. A nasty old fart. There, I said it.”
Trish lost herself in laughter. “You sound like you’re four.”
“Go on, kid. Laugh it up.”
Once Trish got her giggles under control, she cleared the joyous tears from her eyes and then resumed chopping the vegetables. They worked in tandem to prepare the skewers, leaving the broccoli to the side in a foil-lined tray. Trish passed her father the bottle of liquid aminos, but he never took it from her hand.
Puzzled, she looked to her father and asked, “What is it?”
“You, you look so grown up,” he said with a peculiar expression.
Blushing, Trish slid the bottle toward him atop the counter, then continued where she had left off. “Come on, Dad. You act like you haven’t seen me in forever or something.”
“But I mean it. I remember like it was yesterday that you needed your little step stool so you could help out in the kitchen,” he said, mimicking the clumsy movements of a toddler. “But now, look at you. In just another few months, you’ll be on your way to college.”
Trish smiled uneasily, predicting his following statement.
“Your mother would be so proud of you.”
Doing her best to keep a positive expression for his sake, she answered, “I know, Dad.”
Opting against lingering in the uncomfortable silence he knew was to come, her father patted her on the shoulder, grabbed the tray of seasoned skewers, then walked to the back door. “Let’s get that fire going. Did you doctor up that broccoli as best as you could?”
“Yes, I did. They won’t taste like farts. But they’ll still smell a little like it when we cook ’em, though.”
It was a windy, chilly evening, but the bordering fence was tall enough to keep the better part of the cold breeze away. Once everything was on the grill, Trish sat at the table and nibbled on some cheesy crackers. Silence had found them again, and her father knew it was best to dissolve it quickly. He reached over for a few crackers as he assembled what he felt was the best approach to address Trish’s recent reclusiveness.
“We haven’t done this in a while, have we?”
Trish cracked open a can of sparkling water and nodded her head. “It’s been a couple of years.”
“It just boggles my mind how fast time flies.”
She listened to the vegetables sear while her father filled his mouth with another handful of crackers.
“You know, you can always talk to me about anything, right?” he asked, scratching nervously at his thick hairline.
Nodding, she replied, “I know.”
After her response, Trish could feel the anxiety wicking off of her father. She started to think perhaps he had seen something that would implicate her involvement in the strange supernatural occurrences she was experiencing.
“Answer me truthfully. Is there something bothering you?”
Trish looked at the table and started to pick at the edges of her cracker.
After a deep sigh, he continued, “I know I work a lot and don’t always spend time with you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m not brushing you to the side or anything. I’m just busy trying to provide for us.”
“Dad, I know. I don’t think you’re abandoning me or anything.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Trish put the crumbled crackers back into the box and then answered, “Nothing. I’m fine. Really. School is a bit of a pain in the ass, but that’s it. I’m just trying to focus, you know?”
After her one-sided confession, Trish watched her father slowly nod his head. Luckily, it was enough to satiate his curiosity and ease some of the guilt he harbored. The two then noshed their dinner over the pleasant, long overdue conversation of college plans and fond memories of Trish’s late mother.
With a full belly and a brimming heart to match, Trish sat in front of the barbeque and watched the coals die out while her father brought the leftovers into the house. Though she was thankful to be spared from another one of Lowenna’s memories during the meal they shared, it wasn’t long before the smile on her face straightened. Looming on the horizon was the next unexpected and dreadful experience slated to challenge her fortitude. She was scared and incredibly wary of what would happen to her body and mind when she would eventually separate from Lowenna. Since Rayshell was still so far behind, Trish earnestly hoped her memories would remain intact so she could be ready to provide her with the guidance and support she knew she would need along the way.
Trish smiled as she grabbed the foil-lined tray and the last of the utensils. Her father, despite all the silly faces he made during dinner, kept his promise and ate the broccoli.