{MustacheGirl} It is done.
{faierydust} i just blanked out what time is it KORROK THE SLAVE-MASTER KORROK THE KNOWING KORROK THE WISE KORROK THE LIVING KORROK THE FAMISHED KORROK THE CONQUERER KORROK THE GIVER KORROK THE ALMIGHTY I SERVE NONE BUT KORROK
{EVLNYMPH} faierydust are you o
{MustacheGirl} She’s food.
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* MUSTACHEGIRL HAS LOGGED OUT *
I FOLDED THE pages and ran my hand over my mouth, unshaven jaw like sandpaper. Korrok the Slavemaster.
As much as I hate being right, I hate it even more when
Marcy said, “Isn’t that just the weirdest?”
I glanced at Marcy, then at John. Keep in mind, these two had been going out all of ten days.
John said, “Somebody’s got to stay with Amy tonight.”
“Oh, and don’t even get me started on her, John.” I tossed the prints aside. “I mean, did you notice that she’s not even retarded?”
Silence from John’s end, then, “Was she supposed to come back retarded?”
“They had her at that school. Pine View. The alternative school, where they put the retarded kids.”
“That would be the same facility where
“Yes. Pine View.”
A pause on his end, then, “Anyway, I was going to stake out her place tonight—”
“Good plan.”
“—but, Steve called and he needs me and the whole crew on a job site. A chunk of roof caved in, from the ice they say—”
“John, you just made me close down Wally’s so—”
“No, listen. Guess where the job is.”
“Your mom’s ass?”
“The Drain Rooter plant. Right next to Amy’s house. We gotta be on site at five thirty in the morning.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I, but they gave Steve all these requirements about who could go where, what part of the plant we could be in. Sounded weird, all of it. Plus, I really, really need the money. They’re paying triple time. So can you stay with Amy tonight? See if anything horrifying happens?”
“John, did you read the chat log? Do you remember the—”
A glance at Marcy.
“—thing. In my toolshed? She’s not safe with me, John.”
Marcy’s eyes widened. “You mean there’s something in there
I closed my eyes and silently counted to ten.
“Dave, we’ve made it this far. What else are we gonna do, chain you up in your room? I got something else to show you. You see it, you’re gonna want in on this. You ready?”
John unfolded a white piece of paper with a color photo in the center. A printout from a color printer.
“Camera still. From two days ago.”
A grainy shot of Amy’s bedroom. Good light, early evening. Amy standing right there in the center, arms held up, bent at the elbows, one foot lifted off the floor. Motion blur.
I said, “What is she
“Uh, I think she’s dancing. But that’s not the weird part.”
I knew what the weird part was. There was a black shape behind her, standing there, in the form of a man. Like a body painted in tar, head to toe. The now-familiar image of a man who had been neatly cut from reality . . .
I closed my eyes.
I said to Marcy’s boobs, “What did Amy think?”
“To her,” John said, answering for them, “it’s just a picture of her in the empty room.”
“How is that possible, John? It’s ink on paper. Either it’s there or it’s not.”
“Wouldn’t you be surprised if I somehow knew the answer to that? Marcy doesn’t see it, either. Just you and me. Anyway, I was thinking maybe you could put on a red wig and pajamas and pretend to be Amy. Sleep in her bed, see if they’ll abduct you instead. Will you stay with her?”
Notice the subtle transition from “can you do it” from a few seconds ago to “will you do it.” If I had jumped in and answered “no” to the first one, I’d have been saying I can’t, it’s impossible. If I refuse now, though, I’m saying I
“Fine.”
“And watch out for Molly. See if she does anything unusual. There’s something I don’t trust about the way she exploded and then came back from the dead like that.”
“I gotta get back to work. Good to see you, Marcy.”
I stood, she stood. She leaned forward and, to my utter shock, threw her arms around me and squeezed.
She sat down and smiled and said, “You looked like you needed a hug.”
“Um, thanks.” I stood awkwardly for a moment, then walked away. From behind me I heard her say to John, “Where was I? Oh, yeah. I ran outside and just then realized I wasn’t wearing pants . . .”
I WENT BACK to the store and worked the rest of my shift because I’m a huge dork. Jeff came in at six, took one look at the storm that was salting the air and declared the shop closed for the day.
I stopped by the house to change and saw I had a package in the mail, a thick brown envelope, from an address unknown to me. Handwritten, blocky letters. Little kid writing.
I tore it open and found a pair of cardboard glasses with plastic lenses, a
I flung it in the passenger seat of the truck, then almost fell on the ice four times on my way to my front door. I knew I needed to shovel the walk before the mailman broke his neck.
ABOUT AN HOUR later I emerged from the hardware store with a brand-new snow shovel. It was getting late so I went straight to the Sullivan place.
Amy opened the door with the too-happy-too-see-me look I associate with crazy people and dogs. She wore
