Diary of the Gone (13 page)

Bev’s eyes seemed to lose whatever
color they had. “No,” she said, shaking her head, then turned to
Vivian for support. She’d probably expected her to call me mental,
but Vivian didn’t contradict my words. “Have you gone out of your
mind? Our father’s dead,” Bev went on. “Mom told us he’d died in a
car crash—”

“
But she never showed any
pictures of him,” I said.

“
And mostly likely you’ve
never visited his grave,” Vivian added.

I nodded.

“
That’s ridiculous,” Bev
said. “You two are making things up.”

“
Bev, listen to me—” I
insisted.

She shook her head in denial, then
stood and mumbled, “I need to find him.”

“
No, wait,” Vivian raised
her hand to Bev, but my sister already headed for the door in
confident strides. She stormed out of the house, leaving the door
ajar.

“
What’s wrong with you?
Why did you tell her?”

Guilt-ridden and panicked, no longer
feeling the pain in my hand, I pushed myself to my feet and
followed Vivian who ran after Bev.

When we reached the door, Bev was
already far from the house, running towards the school.

“
Bev!” I hollered, but she
didn’t stop. “Damn it!”

We darted after her, but we weren’t
nearly as good runners as Beverly.

As I swung my arm it hurt so badly I
had to slow down. When we got to the school building—or to what was
left of it—Bev wasn’t there. Charred stumps stuck out of the ground
like fingers of a burnt hand.

“
Bev!” I shouted. “Beverly
Blackwell!”

As I inched closer to the forest, it
turned to lifeless gray, and I knew it was another Shadow. It felt
like forever since I’d last stepped into one. I hoped I wouldn’t
have them anymore, but a veil of gray proved me wrong.

The picture flickered before my eyes,
and the next moment I found myself in the forest, right where I’d
found Greg Thornby’s body.

What the hell’s
going on here?
Grass crunched under my
sneakers as I walked farther into the Swamps. I’d never been where
I was heading, but my strides were confident, like I’d known what
lay beyond.

The picture flickered again, and I
stood in front of a circle made up of thick logs sticking from the
ground. I counted seven of them, and each except for one had a
motionless body tied to it. I took in large gulps of air, hunching
my shoulders at the inevitability of what was going on.

Something moved behind me, but so
quickly I had no chance to defend myself. Someone’s shape pounced
at me, and next moment a sharp blade stuck out of my stomach, blood
seeping profusely. I dropped to my knees, defeated without a fight.
My hands clung to my stomach gushing with crimson. Then I dropped
dead.

I forced myself out the Shadow and
found myself clinging to the ground. Vivian kneeled beside me,
pleading with me to respond.

I’d just died in a Shadow. That was
the Shadow I’d always feared to see, the one that I feared would be
the last thing I’d experience in my miserable life. But as I was
lying there on the ground, Vivian kneeling over me and peppering me
with questions that I didn’t hear, all I cared was the indelible
image of those tied to the logs.

Nathan.

Audrey and Wayne.

Terry and Beverly.

And Vivian.

Chapter 12

Mom hadn’t returned from work that
day, which meant I was left on my own. I still hoped she might have
been busy and her phone was dead so she couldn’t call and warn me,
but deep down inside I knew my father had done his best to deprive
me of everyone who could support me.

Now that the school lay in ruin, and
Wayne, Terry and Beverly were gone, townsfolk went crazy over their
safety. Some left Olden Cross; others stayed locked inside. Chief
Coleman searched the area with his men, but still hadn’t found
Aiden and his captives.

After my father’s appearance, I
started seeing Vivian more often. She’d found out that my mom was
gone, so she dropped in to check on me. It took me some time to
convince her that I was all right, although it seemed she knew I
wasn’t telling her something.

I was worried for Vivian so we agreed
that it would be best if I came to her house so she wouldn’t worry
about me. It got a bit warmer and the snow melted, so we spent a
couple of hours before nightfall together in the back of my house,
either on the swings or sitting on the stairs of the back porch.
Then we’d go inside where I made a cup of steaming tea for her.
Though my stomach grumbled each time I met Vivian, I was glad to
have a friend in her.

We could talk about anything that
could distract us from the impending meeting with my father—music,
clothes, hairdos, tattoos (she wanted to have one on her shoulder
blade). She called the music I loved depressing and desensitizing,
and I tried to make my point that it was much better than whatever
she listened to.

Once I blabbed out to her about the
animal carcass Nathan had found in the forest, and Viv—as she soon
told me to call her—puckered her face as I described the scene to
her.

Even though her presence helped me get
over some of the anxiety working up inside me, the Shadow I’d seen
in front of my school still sent chills up my spine. The longer I
pondered over it, the more details I seemed to remember. Thick
ropes fastening my friends’ bodies to the logs, stacks of hay
circling each one, a torch stuck in the middle into the ground
saturated with gasoline. I couldn’t erase Nathan’s haggard face
hanging down low from my memory; a slight fog emitting his lips the
only indication of him being alive.

As much as I enjoyed spending time
with Vivian, I realized I had to go to Mrs. Palmer and tell her
about that Shadow. She had warned me that shadows were close by,
and it was time to ask her what she meant by those
words.

I needed to make sure that Viv
wouldn’t find out about my conversation with her aunt, so I decided
to visit Mrs. Palmer’s house later during the evening.

As if on cue, the weather changed
drastically for the worse. I’d put on a warm jacket and boots,
hoping that Mrs. Palmer would still be awake. As I left the house a
fierce wind lashed at my face, and I raised my hand against it as a
shield. When I reached the squeaky gate I stopped, not sure whether
to enter it or not. Snow swirled around me in thick cornflakes that
melted as soon as they landed on my face.

Lights flickered in the windows of the
first floor and up in the attic. Both Mrs. Palmer and Vivian were
at home then. Snow crunched under my feet as I pushed the gate and
threaded my way through the yard. A faded ‘Welcome’ doormat was
still in its place, and I scoffed at the irony of it lying at the
door that few ever approached.

I knocked on the door three times,
then leaned my head against it to listen if there were any sounds
behind. After a few moments I heard a quiet shuffling. Vivian
wouldn’t shuffle like this, but I still crossed my fingers, hoping
she wouldn’t hear our voices from upstairs. The door opened a crack
to reveal the librarian’s face, her hair as disheveled as a raven’s
feathers in the wind.

“
Good evening, Mrs.
Palmer,” I said.

“
Vivian can’t talk to you
right now,” she replied brusquely, shutting the door.

I pushed my foot in
between the door and the frame just in time. “Actually, I’d like to
talk to
you
,
Mrs. Palmer. If you don’t
mind.”

She kept peering at me without
responding, then grumbled, “Come on in then. It’s freezing, isn’t
it?” She let me in and closed the door.

I hung my jacket on a peg next to what
I clearly remembered as Vivian’s green coat.

“
Please, come in,” Mrs.
Palmer said, stretching her hand towards the hall.

If anyone told me a couple of weeks
ago that I would be in Mrs. Palmer’s living room, I’d burst into
hysterical laughter. I’d heard too many stories from Wayne and
Nathan’s friends about what she might be hiding in her house—from
sleeping potions to dead children kept in jars—that I was surprised
to find it comely and cozy. I meandered through the room towards
wicker chairs next to a fireplace where flames crackled merrily.
Bookshelves lined sepia-colored walls, and the floorboards creaked
slightly under my weight. A book lay open on a wicker chair, Mrs.
Palmer’s rimless glasses next to it.

A few framed pictures were propped
against the red-brick wall on a wide mantel, happy faces staring
back at me. A woman Mom’s age pressed her cheek against a man’s. He
had a five o’clock shadow and forest-green eyes, just like Vivian
did.

“
My sister and her
husband,” Mrs. Palmer said, then picked up the glasses and the
book, and sat down into her chair. “They no longer come to Olden
Cross. After whatever gossip the others were spreading about me,
Erica stopped visiting and calling me.”

“
But Vivian comes here
nevertheless,” I said, wishing to cheer up the woman who caused
shivers down my skin, but who was probably more hurt by Olden Cross
than I.

“
So what did you want to
talk to me about?” Mrs. Palmer’s eyes sparked, as if with
apprehension.

I plopped down opposite
her.

“
I wanted to ask a favor
of you,” I began. “It’s about Vivian.”

Mrs. Palmer’s eyes
squinted.

“
Don’t let her go away
from home,” I said. “It’s just— Something dangerous may happen to
her.”

Mrs. Palmer lowered her wary eyes to
her slightly trembling fingers. “Did you see her?”

“
Excuse me?” I knotted my
brows.

“
Did you see her die?” I
asked.

It was as if someone had punched me in
the stomach. My fingers and hands started shaking. “How— Did you—?
How do you know?”

“
I do know.” She nodded.
“I knew from the beginning. I was right about you then.” Mrs.
Palmer took deep breaths, thinking of something. I sat rooted to my
spot, not sure if I was right about coming to her.

Then she looked into my eyes, the
blackness of her pupils like bottomless wells that hypnotized you.
“Unlike Beverly, you inherited your father’s curse. No wonder, you
two even look alike. The only question is, why would Melanie—I mean
your mom—bring you here, after all these years? But I’m not sure if
I can help you here.

“
So, did you see Vivian?”
she repeated the question.

I shook my head. “But I saw myself
dying.”

Mrs. Palmer pursed her lips without
saying anything.

“
But Vivian was there as
well,” I added.

For a few moments we sat in silence,
listening to the crackling of the logs. Then Mrs. Palmer said,
“It’s a warning for you, Callum.” She looked at me. “What you saw
wasn’t what your father called a Shadow. Now that you know your
possible future you may change it.”

“
What?” I asked, gripping
the armrests of my chair with too much force. “How do you know
about it?”

“
I lived in Olden Cross
all my life, my boy,” she smiled wistfully. “I’ve seen enough, but
I’m not the right person to tell you about you and your father. I’m
sorry.” She turned to look out of the window. The sky behind the
purple curtains was inky black. “It’s already late, and the weather
is getting worse. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

Perhaps it was Olden Cross’s thing
that the townsfolk—neither the dead nor the living—ever told me
anything when I needed it the most.

I let go of the armrests, my palms
sweaty. I was hoping Mrs. Palmer would say anything else, but it
was only when I stepped over the threshold that she said, “Thank
you for visiting me. I will not let Vivian out of
sight.”

I nodded. My mission was done
then.

“
Be careful,” she
said.

“
Can I ask you one more
question?” I said. She gave a nod. “What were you doing at the
Swamps?”

“
I was looking for your
father,” she said. “But I haven’t found him.” Then she shut the
door without waiting for my further questions as I opened my mouth
to ask more.

I heaved a sigh as I descended the
creaking stairs. It was indeed snowing harder, my sneakers ankle
deep in the soft white. The wind picked up, biting my skin
relentlessly. I hunched my shoulders, squinting against the falling
snow.

As I looked back at Mrs. Palmer’s
house, the lights in the attic were gone.

Chapter 13

After what Mrs. Palmer had told me, I
was in no mood to go straight home, even though the wind bit me
with icy needles and I had to cover my face with my
sleeve.

As I was walking down a deserted
street, dim light streaming in through the windows of my neighbors’
houses bathed the road with sepia. Most of the townsfolk had drawn
their curtains while some hadn’t, and I could peep inside to see
them sitting together at a table, having dinner and
chatting.