Chapter Fifteen – Sam

 

I rolled out of bed and slipped into the restroom, taking care of all the niceties of waking up early in the morning. Next door, Abigail had brought in a client sometime during the night, and his groans of satisfaction must have woken me up, so I’d taken care of all the hygienic functions before crawling back into bed and getting a few more hours of shuteye.

Now, shirtless, I stood there brushing my teeth in the mirror, trying to consider what my plan of action for the day was going to be.

First, diner. Meet Faith, drive with her up to this Eb Shook’s place. Depending on how our impromptu meeting with him went, afternoon would be a trip to the archives. I ran a hand back through my hair, trying to silently steel myself for the day ahead. Hopefully, Shook would be able to shine a light on what was going on around here. Maybe give me some insight on what I might be dealing with.

Finished with all the necessary parts of being human, I headed back into the room and got dressed. Instead of the dress shirt from the day before, I opted for a plain tee, jeans, and a light coat. Most farmers I knew wouldn’t respect a man in a formal shirt, even if he was sitting across a desk from him. And certainly not when he was stomping around in a cattle pasture.

Dressed, I loaded my sidearm with a magazine of the silver bullets and tucked it away at the small of my back, beneath my jacket. If normal bullets hadn't worked, maybe those would.

I grabbed my big “bag o' hunting” and headed out into the dim light of early day. As I locked up my room, I glanced over at Abigail’s room and saw the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.

If my recollection of the earlier evening had been any indication, she’d had a late night. “Probably needs her beauty sleep,” I mused aloud as I loaded my gear into the trunk of the Camaro.

I pulled out of the lot and headed into town, the pine trees flying by as I gunned the car down the highway that led through the heart of Potterswell. About ten minutes later, I was pulling into a parking spot at the diner we’d gone to for coffee the day before. I was a few minutes early, and I didn’t see Faith’s car there yet, so I went and got us a table.

By eight-thirty, she still hadn’t arrived, and the waitresses were giving me nasty looks about taking up a table during the breakfast rush without ordering.

I tried calling her, but there was no answer. The phone just rang and rang, before finally flipping me over to voicemail.

No, something was wrong. A sense of dread gripped my insides, twisting them up with its skeletal fist. I never should have left her last night. Hell, I never should have let her get further involved in this in the first place. This was my fault.

If something happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.

“Can I get this to go?” I asked my waitress, pointing at my cup of black coffee, as she came by to give me a refill.

“Sure you don’t want to eat anything, hon?” the older waitress replied between smacks of her gum. “Been here a while already.”

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head as I pulled out my wallet, tossed a flat five dollar bill on the tabletop, and went to rise. “Really need to get out of here. Think something might be wrong with a friend of mine. Just a to-go cup, okay?”

Hand on hip, the waitress just looked me up and down with barely concealed disdain.

I rolled my eyes, pulling another five from my wallet. “Know what?” I asked through clenched teeth as I threw down the additional bill next to the first five. “I gotta fucking go. Keep the change.”

“Well, have a great day,” the surly waitress grunted at my back as I headed for the exit.

I was out the door in a flash, coffee forgotten on the table behind me, and hopped back in the Camaro. The engine roared to life like a jungle cat, and I threw it in reverse, pulled out of my spot, and shoved it into first as I popped the clutch and slammed on the gas. I rocketed out of the lot, cutting off a farm truck that was just about to pull in. They laid on their horn, and its clarion call followed me down the street as I took another hard left and headed out of town.

“Come on, Faith,” I yelled into the phone as I raced down the highway, “pick the fuck up!”

Still nothing. Just ring, after ring, after ring, after ring. And then, voicemail.

“You’ve reached Faith Riley, I’m not—”

I hung up the phone, called again.

Same thing.

I pressed my foot harder on the gas, getting the Camaro up to a hundred as I pulled around a slow-moving pickup hauling a cattle trailer and hauled ass down the road.

I called again. More hollows rings after more hollow rings. Then, her sweet voice speaking into the phone, telling me I should leave a message if I’d like my call returned.

My heart hammered in my chest. Up ahead, I saw the turnoff for her and Veronica’s little farmhouse. I turned on the blinker, braked hard and downshifted. My wheels lifted a little as I took the turn faster than was safe, the whole Camaro rocking to and fro as I tore up the gravel drive.

Her little house seemed fine through the breaks in the pine trees that I managed to catch as I drove twice the safe speed. No smoke, no sign of intrusion. No nothing.

If there was nothing evident, though, what had happened? Why wasn’t she even answering her phone?

Finally, I rounded the last bend and again slammed on the brakes, the Camaro sliding to a stop behind Veronica’s car. I killed the engine, jumped out, and sprinted to the porch.

“Faith!” I bellowed as I pounded on the door with my fist. “Faith! Are you home?”

No answer, at first.

I kept yelling.

Finally, movement inside the house, and, moments later, the sound of the locks on the front door being thrown back. “Hold your horses, dude,” slurred a sleepy voice. “I’m coming.”

“Faith!”

“What the hell, man?” Veronica asked as she pulled open the door, her eyes squinting in the light of the fall day.

I threw the door open, shoving past her and into the living room.

“What the fuck, Sam?” she asked as she closed the door behind me. “Calm your tits, dude! She’s probably just still asleep. Her car’s right out front, right?”

“Faith!” I yelled again, crossing to her bedroom. My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest and try to run the Boston Marathon. The worry seemed to have become an actual physical thing that was shoving its way into my body, pushing out everything else. I’d only known Faith for a day, and I already knew this wasn’t like her at all.

“Hey!” Veronica yelled at my back as I began to pound on Faith’s door. “Dude!”

No answer from Faith.

I didn’t even look back over my shoulder at her roommate; I just turned the doorknob and pushed in.

Nothing.

It wasn’t locked.

It just wouldn’t move. I twisted the knob as hard as I could, throwing my shoulder against the door. Zilch.

And, still, no movement or noise on the other side. Instead, there seemed to be some sort of malevolent feeling emanating from it. Like when someone is on top of a tall building, or at the edge of a cliff, and you have a strange impulse to just jump, despite knowing it would be the end of you. It was like that, but almost palpable, and…other.

“Sam!” Veronica yelled as she came over, trying to pull me away from the door. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s locked, Veronica,” I yelled right back. “Look.”

She tried the door, saw it wouldn’t budge, and gave me a terrified look. “Sh-sh-she doesn’t have a lock, Sam.”

“Go figure,” I said.

And then we started to beat down the door.