94. The Reminder

Sometime later—I don’t know how much later—my eyes open. It takes me a while to regain my senses and remember where I am.

I have no idea where I’m at.

After a bit I start moving again.

I walk carefully through the woods, my side hurting. It doesn’t just ache like it got hit. It throbs as if the cut is deep. I know that it’s bleeding.

I have no idea where I am—I could be in South Carolina as far as I know. I just know that I’m far away from that open field with the disturbed folks playing Halloween.

The first thing I’ll do when I come to a town is find somebody—anybody—who will listen to me.

I’m going to tell them to take me to the nearest police station where I’m going to tell everything.

This is insane.

Enough’s enough.

If they won’t listen, someone will.

I’ll send an email to the entire world and get someone to respond.

This little backside that nobody knows about needs to get revealed. The world needs to know.

There are some sickos here and they need help.

Jocelyn—if she’s a part of this in any way—needs help.

I need help.

And then, as if my unspoken prayers were answered by an unseen god, the forest opens to a clearing, and I see a house.

Jocelyn’s house.

“You gotta be kidding,” I say aloud.

No way.

I laugh, and it hurts.

I don’t see anybody around—still no lights on, no car parked outside. It’s just like I saw it a couple of days ago.

I’m going to break down a door and see if I find anything. Then if I don’t, I’m going to call the cops and tell them I need help.

When I get to the door, I’m glad I try the handle again.

This time the door opens with ease.

As if someone wants me to go inside.

I move slowly, quietly, as if someone’s here. I’m almost surprised when I find a switch and flick on the lights and see that there’s still power.

The house looks the same. Nothing unusual.

“Hello?”

I call out several times but don’t hear anything.

What if Jocelyn’s in the back? What if she’s in her bedroom and she’s all rig—

I shut up the voice. I’m holding the gun in my right hand and I’m ready. The safety is off and the gun’s ready. Ready to at least show someone that I’m ready.

Ready to pretend like I’m ready because I’m not ready and I’ll never be ready.

I find a phone and pick it up with my other hand.

There’s no tone.

Either someone didn’t pay their phone bill, or someone cut out the phone line all together.

“Jocelyn?” I call out as I walk back to the bedrooms.

Maybe Wade is here, waiting.

And maybe you’re stupid for coming back.

I know now the reason filmmakers make people do stupid things in movies. Because in real life, people do stupid things. People run ahead when they really should run away. People open the door when it should always, always remain shut. People enter the room when they really should exit the building.

My breathing is haggard like an old man’s. I’m really scared and suddenly realize my whole body is shaking. My back and my forehead are sweaty, yet my hands and face are still numb from the cold outside.

I turn on the light and see Jocelyn’s bedroom.

This is the first time I’ve ever been inside it.

It looks pretty basic. No pictures on the walls, no theme going on. I open a sliding closet door and see her clothes hanging there. Same for the drawers in her dresser.

Everything’s here. Nothing looks like she’s gone on some long trip.

If I had time I’d search carefully for clues. But I don’t.

There’s a small desk alongside the wall; her laptop sits on it. I open it to see if there’s anything inside it. Maybe to see if I can access her email.

After a few minutes of trying, I see that they don’t have Internet, either.

I look at her emails and find a lone message that doesn’t have a recipient. It’s a message that looks ready to send.

I click on it and see my name at the top.

CHRIS:

IT’S GOING TO HAPPEN BEFORE THE NEW YEAR.

THIS IS ALL I KNOW.

THE PLAN IS FOR IT TO BE AT THE PLACE I TOLD YOU ABOUT.

THE DEVIL IS STRONG HERE.

DON’T DOUBT THIS.

DON’T DOUBT THAT HE’S REAL.

There’s nothing else. No name, no sign-off, nothing.

I read it again.

The place I told you about.

I think about this for a moment and then remember.

So much has happened in these last couple of months, in these last few weeks.

Sometimes a kiss can cover up a gravestone.

Sometimes a friendship can overcome temptation.

Sometimes an embrace can overshadow the hurt.

I remember where she took me that one day, the place beyond her house in the woods at the top of the mountain.

Her bedside clock says it’s ten.

I try to make sense of the time, but nothing makes sense.

Nothing.

I just know that I need to get up on that mountain.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s all in Jocelyn’s mind.

Maybe I did enough—like the woman in shades told me to do—to scare the people in the robes off.

I shut off Jocelyn’s computer, turn around, and head out of her room when something else on her desk catches my attention.

It’s a photo. A slightly off-colored printout of a photo of the two of us.

The photo that was taken on Christmas Day by my mom.

Jocelyn looks happy and at peace. She looks like love.

I fold up the photo and put it in my pocket, then I scramble out of the house and back into the dark pit of night.