#3 The Man in The Woods
Terry’s drives into town were usually uneventful. He’d hop in his dented-up truck, play his CDs way too loud, and make his usual stops. Gas, groceries, and laundry. He’d say hello to a few people then roll on home and turn in early.
Things were a bit different this time. Everyone seemed really on edge. Looking over their shoulders, whispering in hushed voices. This only happened when someone was gone. It had been a while since the last disappearance, but it was nothing new in Springview. People saw weird stuff, then they’d just vanish. Most of the time they’d stay gone, but sometimes they’d come back different. Wrong. He found it best to mind his own business during these times, but it was hard not to overhear the gossip at the laundromat. He listened intently while eating one the melted candy bar out of the cheap vending machines. Everyone was saying it was a kid this time. A little girl out after dark with her friends. Everyone knew you never went out after dark in Springview, even the kids knew. Whatever happened, it must have been bad to make those kids go outside.
He did his grocery shopping in silence, the somber tension getting to him, too. He just wanted to go home. He finished his errands as quickly as he could and packed up the truck to go. He played his music even louder on the way home, putting his foot down on the peddle a little harder than necessary. The trees wiped by and he just bobbed his head drumming on the wheel.
He almost didn’t see the woman stepping out onto the road.
He slammed on the brakes swerving the vehicle away. He shot past her and screeched to a stop, leaving skid marks on the asphalt. Heavy breaths burst from his lungs, and his knuckles were white on the wheel. When he caught his breath, he turned to look for her. He was sure he hadn’t hit her, but the adrenaline was still shooting through his veins as he jumped out of his truck and ran to her. She’d fallen to her side, struggling to push herself up on her arms.
“Oh my god, are you alright?” he exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside her.
Her curly auburn hair was knotted and matted, her bright shirt and bell bottoms were ripped and filthy, but there was no blood. Relief flooded through him as he helped her sit up. She breathed softly rubbing her forehead, “What happened?”
“You walked right into the road,” he said, “What the hell is that about?” A chill ran down his spine and he had a thought, “Were you running from something.”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her dirty covered hands like they might have an answer, “I don’t remember.”
“What's your name?” he asked, “I could take you back to town.”
Though he said that, his eyes were following the sun's path, it was only getting lower.
“I can’t remember that either,” she said. He snapped his attention back to her as the dazed woman’s breath started to quicken and her face showed fear for the first time, “Why can't I remember? What's going on?”
“Listen,” he said, taking the risk of putting a hand on her back, trying to calm her, “It's getting late, why don’t you come with me and I'll take you to town first thing in the morning.”
She stared at him warily as he watched the sun out of the corners of his eyes. ‘Please, please say yes’ he begged in his head. He couldn’t just leave here out here, but if he had to drive back to town, there was nowhere for them to go. He wouldn’t blame her for saying no, but her eyes turned to the sky as well and there was some kind of recognition.
“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” she said, forcing herself to her feet.
He tentatively reached out to hold her arm and she let him, even leaning against him to help her walk. He always kept a spare blanket in his truck and wrapped it around her, just because it felt like the thing to do. She just let him, still dazed and looking all around her as if answers might willingly present themselves.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, starting the engine and getting them moving.
“No… I don’t think so,” she said.
He watched her staring out the window from the corner of his eyes and the weight of the situation settled over him.
“It’ll be fine,” he said just as much for his benefit as for hers, “I have a guest room you can use; we’ll head into town as soon as the sun's up. There’s nothing out here for miles so someone's got to know you.”
“Yeah, ok…” she replied.
“I’m Terry by the way,” he added as an afterthought.
The rest of the drive was dead silent, he didn’t even turn the radio back up, he was too shaken. It wasn’t until they rolled up to the cabin that his passenger started to show signs of life. She climbed out as soon as he was parked and looked around at his “Front yard” that was just a cleared space among all the trees, the last rays of the day shining through the branches. The cabin was old, but large and sturdy, with modest sized windows and ivy climbing up the log walls.
“It's beautiful out here,” she said, and wandered over to the sun bleached doghouse, “Do you have a dog?”
“Nah, my grandfather did,” he replied, “Pop-pop built this place when he was still young.”
He didn’t mean to rush her, but the sunlight was almost gone, and he put a gentle arm around her shoulders to guide her inside. He took her to one of the cracked leather couches in the living room and she sat down heavily, looking exhausted. The bags under her eyes somehow seemed deeper than when he first saw her.
“You rest, I need to lock up,” he said. Again, she nodded, seeming to understand his urgency.
She had to be from Springview. Everyone in Springview how important it was to lock up at night. He locked all three of the locks on the front door, then went through the house checking all the windows. He liked to open them up during the day in the summer to air the place out and so every evening he would double check them to make sure the padlocks were back on he’d even give them a little jiggle for good measure. He also closed the thick blackout curtains he’d bought himself when he moved in.
“Terry,” his guest's voice was so soft yet held so much fear as she called to him. He ran across the house and stopped in the hall to the living room.
She was standing a few feet from the front door, blanket wrapped tightly around her, eyes locked on the figure standing on the porch, watching them from the window. The figure was one he knew well, a dirty naked man wearing a dog skull over his head, his eyes shining like an animal’s through the hollow sockets of the skull. He walked slowly towards the woman and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Pop-pop, this is my friend,” he spoke calmly, “She’s staying with me till tomorrow. It’s time to say good night, okay?”
Pop-pop said nothing, he never did. Terry stepped softly towards the door and closed the curtains. When he turned back towards the woman, tears streamed down her face. He panicked, but she quickly wiped her face before he could say anything; not that he knew what to say.
“Can I go to bed, I'm tired,” she said.
“Yeah, come on,” he said.
He showed her the way to the guest room. It had two twin beds with bright colored quilts and there were old boxes of toys, clothes, and books stacked everywhere.
“Sorry about the clutter,” he said, “but, the beds are clean.”
She ran her fingers over the pink and green quilt of one bed, with its panels of flowers and bunnies. She stared at it intently, sparks jumping behind her brown eyes.
“Do any children live here?” she asked.
“Me and my sister used these beds when we visited Pop-pop as kids,” he replied.
“And where is she now?” she continued her questioning.
“Well… out there with Pop-pop,” he knew there was melancholy in his voice, but no grief. Grief was for the dead and his family was something else.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting on the bed and looking down at the floor.
“It’s been a while,” he said, not knowing what else to say. These weren’t things he usually talked about.
“Yes that, but also I'm sorry for causing you trouble,” she clarified, “Can I ask you one last thing? Will you stay with me? Till the sun's up?”
“Yeah, sure,” He said sitting down on his old bed, blue and green with birds and clover. He had been at this cabin for a few years and this was his first time not being alone. They laid down, the hall's light still on and shining through the doorway. The night was quiet except for the occasional guttural howl that he would rather not know the origins of.
“I think my name is Daphne,” she whispered to him before her eyes closed.
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