69. Getting Darker

Sometimes I think I’m growing to like girls driving me around. If I wrote a memoir about my junior year of high school, it might be called exactly that. Riding with Girls. And Ghosts.

“So you think this is right?”

“Definitely.”

Poe waited around for me to get through track practice. I’m still sweaty and wearing my sweats and drinking the bottled water she was kind enough to give me.

“You’re pretty good.”

The comment surprises me. “At what?”

“Hurdles, stupid.”

“Oh.”

“How do you even get over those tall ones? I’d totally kill myself.”

“Yeah, I’ve done that too.”

“You gotta watch out. Unless, you know, you don’t care about having children one day.”

I laugh.

“That Coach Brinks is on your case a lot.”

“Ray says it’s because he thinks I’m good.”

“Well, our school isn’t exactly known for its amazing athletic program.”

“Maybe if it was, then it wouldn’t end up being so …”

“Creepy?”

I nod. “I was going to say so forgotten about.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

She slows down at the road we’re approaching. It’s not like there’s a street sign or anything.

“Is that a road or a driveway?” she asks.

I can’t tell.

“Oh, well. Let’s check it out.”

The map says that we’re close. But this road doesn’t even look like a road. It looks like a dirt entrance to the woods, maybe a driveway that’s been long abandoned or a logging trail that hasn’t been used for years.

Branches scrape the top of Poe’s car.

“That didn’t sound good,” she says.

We bounce in our seats like we’re in some kind of slow, rocky ride at an amusement park. Though it’s not dark out, nor is it raining, the trees still block the fading sunlight of the day.

We drive slowly for a few minutes.

“Scared?” Poe asks as she glances my way.

I shake my head in an obvious no, but then see how tightly I’m gripping the handle on the side of the car.

“Worst thing that happens, we run face-first into the pastor. Or someone worse,” Poe says. “Then I just reverse and we hold on.”

We narrowly miss a small tree on my side.

“That’s a real comforting thought,” I say.

We actually pass the house the first time, because we think it’s abandoned. I hope it’s abandoned, because if anyone’s living in the cobweb-infested coffin we spot, I don’t want to meet them. But the road soon dead-ends into nothing, just a wall of woods, so we turn around and go back to the small one-story cabin nestled behind weeds and overgrown bushes and trees blocking half of it from view.

“There’s nothing in that,” Poe says.

It’s getting darker, and while we can still see fine here, it might be a little more difficult inside the house.

“Let’s just check it out.”

“You check it out. I’m not going in there. I said I’d drive you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get in.”

I step out of the car and still feel sore from practice. The only bad thing about running track is that I’m prone to shin splints, which coach says is all in my head but sure doesn’t feel in my head right now as I’m standing on the side of the road.

Nobody’s touched this cabin for a long time, that’s for certain. The porch looks caved in and dangerous to walk on. The door is missing, along with the windows. In their place are fallen wooden beams overgrown with wild vines, impossible to get through. It still has a roof, but the wood on the house looks ancient, as if a violent thunderstorm could knock it over without even trying.

“You think we missed the street?” Poe asks.

I shake my head. “I’m sure Newt gave me the right directions.”

“And you trust him?”

“I have no reason not to.”

“Do you see any address?”

If there was a mailbox it’s long gone. Same with any numbers on the dark wood on the front of the house.

“I don’t want to break my neck trying to get in there. Let me see if I can get in from the back.”

I have to take a long route around the house since the overgrowth is so wild and thick right around the edges. I get near the back of the house, about twenty yards away, when I step on something smooth. It’s a trail leading away from the back of the house, and it looks like it’s been used lately.

The trail cuts its way through the trees and weeds straight to the back of the house, where a door waits.

When I get to the door, I try it, but it’s locked.

The front of this house looks demolished, while the back has a door that’s actually locked?

I can’t see Poe back here. It’s shadowy, and as I try the door again, I suddenly feel watched.

I look behind me to the small incline and the dense forest.

There could be a dozen men watching and waiting back there.

Something about this place, about this door, about touching it—something doesn’t feel right.

I feel dirty.

I get a sick feeling inside, but I know it’s probably nerves. A collection of nerves that has been growing like a cancer inside me.

There are windows on each side of the door, dirty windows coated with grime and mud. I look in one but can’t make out anything. I take the edge of my sweatshirt and rub it against the glass.

It’s just light enough to make out something. A chair. A chair and a desk.

I can make out things on the desk. A computer. A big one.

I go back to the door, and then I hear the sound of an engine starting and tires spinning.

I don’t have Poe’s phone this time to ask her what’s going on.

I bolt back the way I came, and as I approach the road I can see something.

Not a car, but a figure.

I drop to the ground and find a tree to hide behind.

For a while I remain hidden, breathing fast but as quietly as I can, not moving.

I hear something jingle and then a deep cough. No car, no voices, nothing else.

I don’t know how long it’s been when I peer back around. I can hear the moving and shuffling going away from me.

It’s the big guy, the one in the trench coat and boots, and his dog. The German shepherd is on a leash. That’s what’s making the jingling sound.

They’re walking away from the house, down the road.

I watch them until they’re out of view.

Now what?

I need to start a to-do list.

Get a license and a car.

Get a phone.

Get a gun.

And yeah—get a life.

I wait for a little while and then step back on the road. It’s a lot darker now, and it’s just going to keep getting worse.

I start walking the way we came, hoping that maybe Poe will come back around. I walk for a few minutes, then stop, walk for a few minutes, then stop again, listening.

The mountain man and his dog are gone.

I reach the paved road and head back to town. I wonder if the cabin belongs to the bearded stranger I keep seeing.

If so, what’s he doing in the back there? And why does he keep showing up in the middle of nowhere?

I have another scary thought, one I don’t want to dwell on.

What if this guy is a ghost roaming these hills?

If he is, then Poe saw him too, the same way Jared saw him. So at least I’m not completely crazy.

It’s amazing how long I walk before hearing anybody or anything. When a car finally comes from behind me with its lights on, I’m not sure whether to remain on the road or hide. Before I can decide, I see the flickering brights of the headlights and realize that it’s Poe.

“Did you see that guy?” she says as I get in the car. “Tell me you saw something. Please.”

“Yeah.”

“He came out of the woods with that monster dog, and I completely freaked out.”

“That house is hiding something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. The back door was locked.”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“Maybe it belongs to the guy we saw.”

“Who gave you the address, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“See what I mean? This is why you can’t say anything, why we have to be careful.”

“I thought that’s what we’re doing, being careful. Not saying anything to anybody.”

“I gotta get home,” Poe says.

She doesn’t say much of anything else in the car ride home except that she’ll see me tomorrow.

When I shut her door and watch her drive off into the night, I wonder if I’m making a big mistake involving her in whatever’s happening to me.

I stand there outside in the darkness, full of so many questions. And so few answers.