Chapter Thirteen - Stephanie

 

“Hey, this is Christina!” chirped my bartender’s much too chipper voice.

“And this is Andy!” added her boyfriend.

“We’re not here right now, but if you leave—”

I slammed the phone down in the cradle, staring at it like a mother stares at her child’s disappointing test scores. Five times. I’d tried calling five times. No answer at all, even after I’d left a message on the answering machine.

I tried to run my hand back through my hair, but just growled in frustration as I encountered my hair tie. I tore out my ponytail, growling again as I shook my locks free.

“Okay, Stephanie,” I said as I got up from the bed, walked over to the window, and threw back the satin curtains. I peered down at my bar across the street, at the neon lights turned off. At the empty moonlit street. None of the things that had attacked us were down there. Not that I could see, at least. My eyes traced an approach from the front door of the hotel, across the parking lot, and out into the street. The little alley Ryder and I had been angling for was open and clear now, and just begging for us to give it another shot. “She’s not answering. That means she’s home and can’t get to the phone. Or, well…”

I didn’t even want to think about the alternative. Somehow, her and Andy disappearing because of whatever curse was happening was better than the idea of those mutants getting inside her home. Getting to her with those claws that had so artfully marked Ryder’s side.

I shivered despite the warmth of the room, and wrapped myself in a tight hug. I gazed out past my bar, at the trees looming over it in the background. Woods that I’d once played in as a kid. Trees Christina walked through nearly every day to get to work.

Now what was hiding there? What things, what supernatural creatures, could be haunting that place?

“Listen to yourself, Stephanie,” I whispered, my voice harsh in my own ears. “You sound like a fucking crazy person.”

“Of course you do,” I replied. “Because this is a goddamn crazy world. And this is all crazy, don’t you think?”

But what was I supposed to do about it? That was the issue. Sit here on my ass and just wait?

Maybe Ryder had the right idea? Maybe, we needed to get down to his car, get his supplies?

I sighed and turned away from the window. Right now, my only hope for Christina was Ryder. I went to turn away from the window, but stopped halfway.

I’d heard something.

A window latch flipping open, followed by a double-hung window being shoved upwards in its frame.

“Son of a bitch.” I went to the window, threw open the latch at the top, and yanked it open. Less than a foot along its track, it stuck hard in the frame, the wood grinding and squealing like an old pig rooting in soil.

“Stephanie?” Ryder hissed from the shingled eave outside the window. “What are you doing? Get back inside!”

I tilted my head to the side and stuck it out through the gap I’d made, my hair cascading down over the windowsill and against the wall as I contorted to try and get a better look at him.

He was crouched down like a jungle cat, or a superhero, perfectly at home where he was on the edge of the roof. From the looks of it, I’d managed to catch him moments before he dropped over the side.

“Me get back inside?” I asked, my voice like a slashed tire, a hiss like the mutant creatures roaming my hometown had made. “No! You’re the one trying to ditch me! You get back inside!”

“Look,” he said. “I’m just going to the trunk to get my supplies, that’s all. All right? That’s all I’m doing. Just stay in there where you’re safe, okay? Esther can keep you covered.”

He wasn’t lying. He’d be back in just a minute, if he could. But, what if something happened to him while he was trying to get into the trunk of his car? What if one of those things was able to sneak up behind him and get the drop on him?

No, I couldn’t let that happen. He was my only lifeline to someone who might be able to help. And he’d been able to help Jeff, so why couldn’t he help Christina, too?

“Fuck this,” I said, surprising myself as I began to push my shoulders through the gap in the window. I was going out to his car with him, one way or another.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, his voice mirroring my own shock.

“Coming with you!”

“Dammit, Stephanie,” he said as I shoved my way through to my chest. The wood of the windowsill dug into my breasts as I inched through.

“Window’s stuck!” I said, a little whine in my voice. But, despite the whimper, I shoved again. Nope. It wasn’t just the window stuck. Not this time.

“Hold still, goddammit.”

Together, with me pushing up with my back, and Ryder using a more traditional approach, we managed to edge the window up a few more inches, enough that I could get through. He gave me a hand, got me situated on the shingles.

“You okay?” he asked as, upon looking down for the first time, I weaved a little bit.

“I’m fine,” I said, my hand outstretched a little for balance.

Twelve doesn’t seem like a big number. A dozen eggs? That won’t even get you through a week of breakfast. A dozen beers? That’s not even a case! Twelve feet? You’d think looking down over the edge of a building and seeing the ground twelve feet below you wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

“Never jumped from this high, have you?” he asked, his hand on my upper arm.

I licked my dry lips as I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

“Crouch before we jump, okay? Keep your legs together, bend them when you hit, and go into a shoulder roll to absorb the energy.”

“That easy?” I asked, that little whimper returning.

“That easy.”

“Anything else?”

“Don’t land on your head.”

“Why aren’t we going out through the front door?”

“Because we’re already out here,” he said with a little laugh. “Now, you coming or not?”

And then he was off the ledge, dropping over into the grass. He landed without a crunch or thud, just came up easily out of a roll onto his feet, brushing a stray bit of grass from his hair. He looked up at me, shrugging his shoulders.

For a moment, just a moment, I considered how quickly I could get back inside the window. How fast I could get down the hall, and fly down the stairs. If he wanted to leave, that would be the opportunity he needed.

But there was something else he needed to pull this off: me.

So I jumped. Momentary weightlessness took over, and I felt almost like a feather in the wind. Lighter than air, and nearly flying as the ground rushed up towards me.

My feet hit first, and all my organs seemed to shift for a split second with the sudden stop. After all, it’s not the fall that kills you. It’s the last part that does. Channeling my inner nine-year-old, I sprang up and rolled forward in a half-somersault, taking the impact on my shoulder as I flopped onto the grass and sprawled out on my back.

Chuckling, Ryder stood over me, his head seemingly upside down as a smile grew on his face.

“You gonna help me up?” I asked, the world still spinning a little as I reached out to him.

He came around and grabbed hold of my forearm, and I pulled myself up to a standing position. “Anything broken?” he asked as I began to dust myself off.

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“Good. Come on. And stay low.”

He and I crossed the yard, our feet soft on the cushion of grass we tramped through. All around us, the world seemed the same. Soft. Cushioned. Like the night air had somehow been wrapped up in protective cotton, or thick quilts. It felt so heavy, so pregnant with dread and fear, you could have practically sensed the weight in your outstretched hand, like it was a real and tangible thing. A cool breeze came out of the west, blowing right down Main Street like it had earlier tonight when the cat-things had spotted us. It seemed to lighten the load of the air around us, stirring the thick atmosphere.

We stopped at the road, glanced both ways. The adrenaline was keeping us awake at this point, I think, and our eyes were wide as we searched both ways. Not for cars, of course. No, we had other things to worry about.

“There she is,” he said, pointing down the road a little bit.

“You sexed your car?”

“Sexed? Gross.”

I sighed. “Sexed is when you determine the gender of something like a chicken.”

“Yes, then. I sexed my Charger. Ready?”

I nodded.

Still low to the ground, with Ryder’s eyes sweeping up and down the road each way, and even back the way we’d just come, we headed up to the Charger. A sleek, old piece of steel. The type of car that would’ve woken the whole town of Camelot if we’d started it up right now. We circled around back, to the trunk.

“Stay down, but keep an eye out.”

“What all are you getting, anyways?”

“Plenty.”

I hunkered down next to the rear passenger side fender, my head elevated just enough for me to see the street as Ryder popped the trunk as quietly as he could manage, and began to rummage through the back. From the sound of things, he unzipped a bag. Metal sounded on metal, and he opened a small cardboard box. I’d been around guns long enough to know that, a moment later, he slid a magazine into a pistol and racked a bullet into the chamber. After that, he began to thumb shells into a shotgun. He racked it violently, the chunk-ching seemingly as loud as a gunshot on the nearly silent street.

“Ready?” he asked as he settled the trunk back into place, gently pushing it down hard enough for it to click into place.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my eyes focused. The adrenaline was still pumping, that was for sure, but I didn’t know how much longer it was going to last. Pretty soon the sun was going to be peeking over the tops of the eastern trees. And, while it was a sight to behold, I knew I might not make it that long.

“Well then, regulators,” he said, crouching down next to me, a sawed down shotgun gripped in one hand. “Let’s mount up.”