The Outermost (a supernatural, comedy, thriller for teens and young adults)A Story by LindsayRae and Connor Gladwell couldn't be more excited to spend their first summer on their own. The shore, friends, and glamorous nights on the town. If only they didn't have to spend it at The Outermost.
Previous Version This is a previous version of The Outermost (a supernatural, comedy, thriller for teens and young adults).
Chapter 1 “Connor,
come on! You take forever. I swear you’re like a girl!” Rae Gladwell shouted up
the stairs of her parents’ Beacon Hill town house. It was warm and her
overstuffed duffle bag was already propping open the heavy glass door. She
checked her watch again. She had told her
brother to be ready by ten, actually expecting him to be ready by ten thirty,
still giving her time to get to Provincetown by 1:00 pm. She knew they probably
should have left much earlier, that is if they wanted to beat traffic, but as
an 18 year old herself, Rae needed her sleep just as much as any other. This,
of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been out to a party until
2 am the night before. Addie Sarason had
thrown a graduation party for their entire class…the party of the year. Almost
everyone had shown up, well, anyone who was anyone
had shown up, including Ace Quiller, whom Rae had been most eager to see.
Addie had spent the past month trying to get the two of them together and her
graduation party was supposed to be the night. Rae had arrived
late. Her parents had taken her out to Legal Seafood, her favorite restaurant,
after graduation. Besides her high school graduation, they were also
celebrating Rae’s and Connor’s first summer on their own. Their parents were
leaving for Tuscany in the morning, while Rae and her younger brother were
heading to Provincetown for the next two and a half months. They had spent
their summers there as a family, but this was the first year that the two would
be entrusted to live on their own. It
had seemed like a great idea at the time, which was before they had realized that their pooled resources could only buy
them ten weeks at the local hostel instead of the regal Lands End Inn that they
had grown accustomed to each summer. And of course, before Rae had hooked up with Ace Quiller. Rae shook her head
as if to clear it, giving her mahogany brown hair a fervent toss. She parted her glossed lips and bellowed up
the stairs once more. “Connor!! I swear
on Grandma Becket’s grave, I’ll kick your a*s if you don’t get down here right
now!” She stomped her foot against the polished hardwood. She would do it, too.
He knew she would hit him. It wouldn’t be the first time. Rae turned to
check her reflection in the hall mirror. She puckered her lips and combed her
long, shiny hair with her fingers. She smiled at herself and practiced a
seductive face, remembering how she had drunkenly seduced Ace Quiller the night
before. Well, seduced was a relative term. They had kissed and then Ace had
tried to force himself on her. So, she had kicked him. Hard. Where it hurt. The
whole school was talking about it on SpaceBook.com. She was the new queen of
Boston High. God knows it had taken long
enough. She mimed a kiss
toward her reflection and turned just in time to avoid getting pummeled by a
flying blue duffle bag. She caught it easily and let it drop loudly to the
floor. “Connor!” A dirty blonde head
poked out over the railing. “What? You wanted me to hurry up! And what’s the
fastest route between two points?” “What are you…” “A straight line!”
He laughed. He knew he had her there. He was forever trying to show her up. Rae
was smart, yes, that couldn’t be denied. But Connor was smarter. He perched on top
of the highly polished railing and stopped to look around dramatically, in mock
terror. “Are mom and dad gone?” He widened his eyes. Rae exhaled
sharply. “Yes.” She took a wide step to the side. Connor promptly
let go and went sailing down the slick wooden railing. He yelled as he flew
easily through the air and onto his sneakered feet. He brushed himself off,
still dramatizing, and nodded to his sister. “Okay, let’s go!” He grabbed his
bag and pushed past her to the door. He held it open. “Come on, come on. I
don’t have all day, ya know.” Rae scrunched her
nose and mouth together in quiet exasperation. Her brother would be the death
of her one-day, she was sure of it. She really didn’t know if she would last
for ten weeks…or if he would. There was traffic
on the MA-3, but Rae made good time. Connor drowsed through most of the two and
half hour trip, but woke up right around Chatham, muting his mp3 player and
removing his glasses to stare out at the familiar Nantucket Sound. Rae kept
driving and fumbling with the radio, trying in vain to switch to something that
wasn’t country. They stopped after the Conwell Street exit and Rae whipped out
her cell phone to check on Justine Hamilton, a friend from cheerleading who
would be spending the summer with them. “Hey, girl! What’s
crackin?” Rae asked, twirling her hair. Connor glanced quickly and disgustedly
in her direction. A chipper,
high-pitched voice answered, “Rae, oh my god. Where you guys at?” “Just coming into
P-town, now. Are you still stuck in traffic?” “No, girl, I’m
here! Got here about fifteen minutes ago. I met your friend, Matt, by the way.
He’s kinda cute…in an off-beat way. He’s been talking to the lady at the
restaurant this entire time, though. Weird. She’s not even pretty.” “Cindy,” Rae and
Connor answered in unison. Rae shot a knowing glance in Connor’s direction. He
must have overheard. It wasn’t difficult, considering the fact that Justine had
been named cheer captain based on the fact that she drowned out the rest of the
girls on the squad. “Yeah, she’s
like…old. Anyway, turn down Commercial and pick me up.” “Okay, I think I
see you. Ooohh you look cute. Okay, bye.” Rae slammed her phone shut and pulled
into a spot in front of Bayside Betsy’s, their home away from home. The restaurant was
owned by Robbie Stoker, one of their dad’s oldest friends from law school.
Robbie had moved out to Cape Cod after twenty years practicing law, fed up with
a life of corruption. So, he had taken over Bayside Betsy’s along with a number
of other beachside bars and restaurants and Rae and Connor had been working for
him for the past three summers. But this year would be different. Rae would be
bartending instead of hosting and Connor would be waiting tables instead of
washing dishes. The two leaped out
of the car, grateful for the opportunity to stretch. A tall, dark-haired girl
flitted her bikini-clad body across the street and swept Rae into a tight hug. “Ahhh,” she
shrieked. “I’m so happy we’re here!” She shook Rae from side to side, staring
out at the white-sand beach. “I know, finally
right?” Rae took a step back, “Wow have you just been walking around the street
in that bathing suit?” She surveyed the tight, strategically-placed hot pink
material and the way it hugged Justine’s dark skin. She looked like a rock
star, or a playboy model. “Yeah, well I
thought it would be smart to make a good first impression, you know? Right off
the bat…just show ‘em what they’re up against. Ha-ha!” She cackled. Rae shook her head
and smiled. This was why she had invited Justine for the summer. Her sense of
adventure and carefree energy would make the next ten weeks that much more fun.
“Come on, let’s go
in and say hi.” Rae steered them toward the restaurant. Connor lagged behind,
not exactly heartbroken that he’d been ignored. He was used to it. Rae’s
friends usually acknowledged him as her “cute little brother” and said things
like “oh my god, Connor, you’re gonna be so hot when you get older,” or “Oh,
Connor, you’re so lucky to have Rae as a sister. You get to hang out with all
of us hot chicks!” And they would laugh and pinch his cheek and then they would
promptly ignore him. He preferred it
that way. Justine was no longer impressed with Connor’s jokes or his “Zack Morris
hair” as she had called it. It was fine. He was looking forward to hanging out
with Matt and his friends this summer, anyway. The three trudged
up the short ramp to enter the electric blue and white building. Connor noticed
Matt’s painted red bike tethered to the telephone pole, despite the fact that
the bike rack was empty. He smiled. Inside, the smell
of burgers and Betsy’s internationally acclaimed chowder wafted through them. A
short bull of a nineteen-year-old boy leaned far over the front counter, in
hushed conversation with the receptionist. He ran a hand over his
closely-cropped dark hair and turned to face them. “Yo! Look who
finally made it! Thought you kids had gotten lost!” He fixed them with his
smiling green eyes and held his muscular arms wide. Rae gave him a devilish
smile and leaped into his arms. “Matt, you haven’t
changed at all.” She shot him a knowing glance. “What’d you
expect, kid? Huh? Mmm, you’re looking ravishing. Ohh and whose your friend.”
His voice dropped an octave as he mocked pushing her aside to eye Justine from
head to stiletto. “Enchante,” he curled his lip and reached for her hand.
Justine looked a bit taken aback, looking to Rae for understanding. “Yo, Matt! What am
I fried calamari?” Connor shouted from the door. He put on his best Tony
Soprano voice. “Ahh, my main
man!” Matt perked up, dropping Justine’s hand for the time being. “Oh the fried
calamari! Is it summer again, already? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were
gagging over that stuff?” He laughed heartily, grabbing Connor’s outstretched
hand and pulling him in for a tight hug. “Dude, you’ve grown like a foot. What
are you like fifteen now? Oh, s**t. Your birthday’s like this week, isn’t it?
Damn, dude. The ladies are a-waitin’!” He tousled Connor’s dirty blonde hair. “So, uh…you guys
remember Cindy.” Matt stepped back to reveal the lady at the desk. They did remember her. They had only worked with her for the past
three years. She had been the source of quite a bit of drama at Betsy’s
actually. Last year, Matt had spent the entire summer shamelessly courting the
thirty-four-year-old divorcee. By August, she had given in, even going so far
as to sneaking Matt into the Squealing Pig and buying him Sam Adams all night
and accompanying him to the end-of-summer block party where they promptly made
out in the alley for hours. She wasn’t
unattractive. She might have been almost beautiful once. But currently she was a
bit too tan, too blonde, and too…well, artificial. Rae noted two new additions
to the Cindy canvas…two very large additions,
not at all covered by the too-tight Bayside Betsy’s tank top she was squeezed
into. “Of course. Cindy,
how’ve you been?” Rae addressed her. They had never quite gotten along. Rae
wasn’t sure why, but the two had always remained civil nonetheless. Cindy nodded,
scrunching the left side of her face. Rae assumed that meant hello. “Err, this is my
friend Justine Hamilton. I think you two may have met. She’ll be waiting tables
with Connor this year.” Cindy eyed Justine
and settled back into her chair with a “humpf.” “Okay, then. We’re
gonna go check in. Matt are you sticking around? Right, never mind.” Matt had
gone back to holding Cindy’s hand above the counter and whispering god-knew-what into her ear. Rae turned
on a heel and ushered everyone out. Chapter 2 They arrived at the hostel in no
time at all. Rae turned down Winslow Street and scrunched her nose in mild
distaste at the road sign. She remembered the
conversation she had had with her parents a month before. They had tried to
discourage the two from going to Provincetown for the summer, going so far as
to “put their foot down,” but Rae had thrown an absolute fit. She wasn’t proud
of it. But she had gotten her way, nonetheless. Her last childish act had been
successful in that they were here and now had an opportunity to showcase their
maturity. Even if it did mean staying at the hostel, due to their father’s
challenge that “mature adults pay for their own vacations.” This was yet
another one of his “value of the dollar” lessons. Sure, Rae had stated. Of
course they would pay. Of course they
would pay. She was this close to
eating her words as she turned into the parking lot and stopped in front of the
main “office.” Office? The sign
seemed almost sarcastic. The words “hippie shithole” came to mind. She laughed
but didn’t share this with the others. Connor was already hopping out of the
truck and trudging up the rickety steps. Fifteen minutes
later, they were marching across the overgrown grass to cabin 3. Justine exited
the car and ran to meet them as they passed. She hadn’t wanted to go into the
office. It was just as well. Old Mr. Cochran would have found her to be a
bit…inappropriately dressed. “Cabin 3, huh? So
what are the chances it’s all a big ruse and it’s like…the penthouse inside?”
Justine’s sarcasm seemed to brighten her. “Or maybe,” Connor
brightened overdramatically, “It’s like in Harry Potter when they go into this
tiny little tent that turns out to be this gigantic multi-room apartment inside.
Like with a kitchen and a living room and a bedroom, and all!” “Right. That’s
really gonna happen.” Rae shot down his idea, but fired him a loaded look. She
had the seen the movie too. It was one of her favorites. Justine smirked
and looked to Rae. “Harry Potter? Connor, you’re so cute. You still watch that
mystical, magical crap.” Rae smiled and
kept walking. They got to cabin
3 and were not surprised to find it just as they would have pictured from the
outside. It was a lot cleaner than they had imagined, but there were a few
issues nonetheless. “Bunk beds?”
scoffed Justine. “I have to sleep in…Rae! What the f…” She started. She put a
hand on Connor’s head, “Sorry.” She still thought of him as a kid. “Well, I’ve got bottom.” “Bottom? Why? No
one ever wants bottom.” Connor said. Justine dropped
her duffel bag onto the thin green comforter. She rolled her eyes, “In case I
have a gentleman caller…and well, you
know how it is.” She smiled devilishly. “Ugh. Okay Rae
you’re with her.” He mocked disgust and retreated to the other bunk. He threw
his bag on the bottom and hopped to the top in a single bound. His fake snoring
filled the room. Connor eventually
really did fall asleep and the girls used the time to unpack and to shower and
get ready for the evening. The facilities weren’t bad, though the hot water ran
out after about ten minutes and there was a series of squeaks and thumps coming
from some of the pipes that ran along the wall and into the ceiling. Connor woke to
find both girls dressed to kill and on the front porch sipping wine from
crystal glasses. He hopped quietly to the floor and noted the new mini fridge
in the front corner of the room. He peeked inside and found a 1998 Cheval
Blanc, a six-pack of Cape Cod IPA, and three apples. He shook his head and
grabbed a bottle of the local pale ale. He started toward
the door, but took a moment to glance around the room. White walls, white bunk
bed frames, green blankets. It was all pretty standard. He sipped his beer,
tasting the full-bodied, hoppy liquid. Even at fifteen, Connor could appreciate
a good beer. He often drank with his dad back home. It was an “important right
of passage” his dad had said. “A man can’t
go into the world without being able to appreciate certain things.” Apparently, fine
wines and alcohol were among those things. Such teachings weren’t lost on Rae
either, he noted. He didn’t know how she had gotten her hands on the $250
bottle of wine or the beer, but he didn’t feel like asking. Connor’s eyes
followed the angles of the room, but stopped at the full-length mirror in the
back corner. It was out of place. He couldn’t explain what exactly was off
about it, but it gave him a strange vibe. He crossed the room and stopped in
front of it. He touched the cracked silver frame with one index finger, running
it along the top. His finger came away caked with dust. He sipped his beer and
stared at his reflection. His khaki shorts and green tee-shirt looked wider
than usual, but his neck and head looked oddly elongated. He finished his beer
in one large gulp and shuddered. The mirror gave a sort of fun-house effect. Connor stared at
himself and attempted to smooth his unruly blonde hair. It was then that he saw
something move within the mirror. A single black shape seemed to waver back and
forth deep within. Back and forth, back and forth. Was it his imagination, or
did he hear a slight tapping noise going along with it? No, he wasn’t
imagining things. The tapping was getting louder, angrier. The movement of the
thin black shape was gaining speed now, getting bigger, smaller, bigger,
smaller. A loud crack erupted behind him and Connor jumped, dropping his beer
bottle loudly onto the wooden floor. His breathing
intensified. He couldn’t hear anything above the beating of his heart. Backed
into the corner now, he stole a glance at the mirror. There was nothing there. “Connor?” Rae
stood holding the porch door open. “What are you doing? Is that empty?” She
pointed to the bottle on the floor. He
nodded. She eyed him
suspiciously. “I think the tree outside just fell down or something. I’m going
to get Mrs. Cochran. Are you okay? What the hell?” Connor’s eyes shot
to the window in the bathroom. Of course.
The window was right across from the mirror. It had been the tree moving back
and forth. It was the tree that cracked. He bent to pick up the empty bottle
and tossed it lightly into the can across the room. “You’d better be
careful with those, pretty boy.” Justine remarked. Connor rolled his eyes and
strode over to grab another one. “You be careful
with those.” He pointed at her chest with the neck of his beer bottle. She laughed,
adjusting the plunging neckline of her sparkling dress. “Hmm, touché.” She had
no shame. Chapter
3 The three ventured
out to Commercial Street, the main drag in town. The girls strutted their slightly
tipsy and spiked-heeled selves the half-mile to Atlantic House with Connor in tow.
The bumping techno music flooded the crowded streets and Rae and Justine
had to shout to be heard. After they rounded the corner and joined the
onslaught of drag queens and intoxicated women, Connor waved good bye and
stalked off toward MacMillan Wharf. The air was warm and breezy and smelled of
seawater and funnel cakes. The vendors and small doe-eyed children had given
way to the intensity of the real P-town social scene. Connor
walked along the pier, staring past the bright lights to the yachts and fishing
boats bobbing in the water. He ran a hand through his windswept hair and came
away with a blob of hair product, which he promptly wiped on his ripped jeans.
He checked his cell phone. It was nine forty-two. “Check
you out, Matt Damon.” A voice boomed behind him. Connor
smiled but didn’t turn from the wooden railing. “You’re late.” He shook his
head dramatically. “So, did you bring it?” He kept his voice low. “Sure
did mah brotha. Or should I say Mr. Lando Calrissian?” Connor
spun around in a flash. “Lando Calrissian?! You idiot! That’s a character from
Star Wars!” He snatched the small brown bag from Matt’s outstretched hand and
ripped out the Massachusetts driver’s license. The ID held his own picture. It
was last year’s school picture. He had emailed it to Matt a month ago. Connor’s
eyes scanned the information: Lando Calrissian, 2101 Kirkland Street, Cambridge,
Massachusetts. “You idiot! You absolute…mother…Ugh!” Connor threw up his hands
and turned around to lean exasperatedly on the wooden railing. “What?
Hey, you should be thanking me! This makes you twenty-two. You can get into all
of the bars in P-town with that. Hell, you can get into all the bars in the
world!” He laughed. “So, what’s the problem?” “Let’s
see. Well, besides the fact that this makes me a character from Star Wars, my
address also happens to be at Harvard University.” He flicked the card six
inches from Matt’s naïve-looking face. “Ha!
Does it really? So, say you’re from Harvard!” “Nobody’s
from Harvard. You can’t just live at
Harvard.” “Sorry,
so say you go to Harvard. Say you’re
the next Stephen Hawking, only better looking.” “He
went to Oxford.” “Doesn’t
matter. Hey, you can work this! I know it dude. Chicks will eat that up. And
anyway, I’ll be your wingman. No worries.” Matt clapped a hand on Connor’s back
and pulled at his shirt by the collar. “Just pop your collar like this…and
you’re good to go. Let’s do this.” Connor
exhaled sharply and followed in Matt’s wake. The two headed toward the Squealing Pig. The place was jam-packed
with college kids and Matt and Connor slipped easily into the crowded tavern. A
live band played loudly from the corner as they moseyed up to the bar. “What’s
that say? Lando? Is that your name?” Asked the bartender. She was in her late
twenties, dark hair, fake breasts, red lipstick. Mildly attractive, if you
liked that sort of thing. Connor
nodded, lifting his eyebrows and tilting his head in an intellectual stare. His
heart pounded. “Yeah,”
Matt leaned in to intervene. “It was supposed to be Landon, but his mom died
after giving birth to him. She never got a chance to finish it.” Connor’s
blood pounded through his veins. He wanted to punch his ignorant friend in the
face. “Oh
that’s so sad.” The waitress bought it. There was something to be said about
the level of naivety in P-town. “So what can I get for you Mr. Calrissian? Mr.
Salinger?” She replaced their IDs on top of the bar. Matt
grabbed his and locked eyes with the gullible waitress, “Call me J.D.” “Oh
Christ.” Muttered Connor. The
waitress leaned in toward Matt’s suntanned and artfully manipulating face. “And
what exactly would you like, J.D?” “Well
what I want isn’t exactly on the menu, miss. But why don’t we start with a
couple of Sam Adams drafts and an order of oysters and see where we end up?” He
winked and slapped a twenty on the bar. The
night flew on in a blur of Summer Ale and rock and roll sing-alongs. By the
time 2:30 came around, Connor and Matt were surrounded by local girls, all
craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the “hot new yuppies” in town. The
boys kept the drinks flowing, but finally hobbled out of the bar leaning on
each other, still laughing and fabricating stories of their Harvard days for
the benefit of the girls still tagging along by their sides. They
walked around town, escorting their new friends to their respective hotels or
rentals, laughing and singing their way back to the Hostel. It was late, but
Rae and Justine weren’t in yet. Connor asked Matt if he should be worried. “Nah,
they’re probably mackin’ on some local meat, you know what I’m sayin’?” Connor
grimaced and nodded toward cabin 4 where Matt was staying. He stalked crookedly
toward his own cabin and collapsed onto the thin bottom bunk. He wasn’t going
to make it to the top. Not tonight. Chapter
4 The
three made it through their first shift back at Bayside Betsy’s. The owner,
Robbie, outfitted them with the season’s uniforms: bright red polo shirts.
Connor shrugged. Rae and Justine gave a collective cringe. How were they
supposed to get tips wearing polo shirts? Rae
took her place behind the bar, familiarizing herself with the various drafts
and bottles, cocktails and mixers. The resident bartender, Patricia, had taken
the time to show her the ropes and Rae was feeling fairly confident. She was
more interested in arranging her hair and clothes in the mirror behind the
bottles of wine. It was still early and her shift had only started a few
minutes ago. So far, all she’d done was pour two draft beers. The way things
were shaping up, it looked like she’d need to keep delving into her graduation
money this summer, or at least until the crowds showed up. By
about four o’clock that afternoon, Rae was eating her words. A sudden influx of
eager tourists had the place abuzz. She wasn’t sure if it was the natural
course of things, or Justine’s bright idea to flaunt herself out front. To be
fair, she had offered to sweep the steps and sidewalk, but Rae had gotten a
kick out of her ridiculous antics nonetheless. She had actually attempted to
count the number of times Justine bent far over to pick up some nonexistent
object, hiking her shorts up further than the laws of physics would normally
allow. But then again, this was P-town. Crowds
filled the restaurant from bright blue wall to jam-packed mahogany bar.
Somewhere amidst the throng of out-of-towners and day-trippers were Rae and
Justine, manically trying to meet every need, while Connor helped Robbie in the
kitchen and Cindy…well, Cindy did her usual. Rae shot her every malicious
glance in her arsenal as she sat back, filing her long fingernails, muttering a
few sentences here and there to inquiring customers. By
the end of that night, they were all covered in beer, grease, clam chowder, and
hot sauce. They were completely spent. And it was only a Sunday. The
rest of that week flew by in a blur of glaring sunlight, cocky Boston accents,
and insatiable appetites. Lucky for Rae, it was also filled with
alcohol-consumption and all that came with it. Namely, tips. By
Friday evening, she was grateful for nothing more than the quiet solitude of
her worn, comfy bunk and the whir of the muted ceiling fan above her. Connor
was helping Matt finish a few orders in the kitchen. A party of ten had walked
in fifteen minutes before the end of their shift and had ordered every
difficult item on the menu. Justine was at the
liquor store downtown. Though she had an excellent fake ID, she had
sweet-talked the attractive counter-help on the day they’d arrived and, since
then, had made three return visits. In addition to thinking that she was 23
years old, he also probably thought she was an alcoholic. Rae
smiled to herself, thinking of the money she’d made over the past week. She
didn’t need it, not technically. She had more money than she could hope to
spend in one summer. After all, graduation was a much-appreciated thing in the Gladwell family, and nothing said
appreciation like a sizable check. Plus, her parents had set aside a great deal
of money for she and her brother, some of which she had taken ownership of on
her 18th birthday. Connor didn’t know
this. This was one of the reasons why they were in the current predicament. Rae
had been uncomfortable abandoning Matt, as he had suggested the Hostel in the
first place. It had been much more suited to his meager funds. Of course Justine
had complained at length, but Rae knew that this place was less of a strain on her
budget as well. Justine lived like a queen, it was true, but Rae knew that she
would be depending on her tips at Betsy’s to get her through the summer. And though it
wasn’t common knowledge, Rae actually enjoyed managing her money. She was like
her dad in that way. Lavish, yet frugal. If ever there was such a thing. She sighed and
flipped absent-mindedly at a magazine. One of Justine’s, which translated
roughly to brainless, classless crap. She was tired of it. She started to toss
the glossy pages away when she heard a slow creaking sound coming from behind
her. She stopped, her
breath caught in her throat. The low, thin creaks were followed by a hollow
thwap of plastic against something hard. The pulse of blood in Rae’s temples
blocked out all other sound. She dared not move, lying ramrod-straight on her
bunk, conscious of the empty space below her and her imminent vulnerability. Her eyes scanned
the part of the room that was in view. Unfortunately, it was the wrong part.
She clenched her jaw and wished that she could see behind her. Shadows danced
along the bare wooden walls, thrown from the ceiling fan revolving above her
head. Five minutes
passed. Ten minutes. Finally, Rae gathered the resolve to turn her head and
rise to a sitting position, all in one fell swoop. Her hair stood on end as she
shot a panicked peek at the rest of the cabin. Everything seemed
in order. Connor’s bunk was empty except for a book and a pair of glasses. The
rest was bare. Rae took a few deep breaths and quickly leaned far over the
railing, eyes flashing to the bunk below her. Nothing. Her breathing started to
slow and she laughed out loud. When she reached
the floor, Rae shook her head and tiptoed to the back of the cabin. She pulled
the dusty white curtain to the side, peering through the window at the
overgrown grass and wildflowers. The sun had just set behind the trees. She
spun around on a heel and checked herself in the odd-looking mirror that hung
from the wall, straight down to the floor. The mirror. She
couldn’t explain it, but something was off. She stepped forward, not sure what
she was looking for. The painted white frame hung haphazardly from the stark
wall. It could have been her imagination, or her overtaxed nerves, but there
was something…wrong…about it. She tilted her head to the side. Had that crack
been there before? Chapter
5 Connor left early
to meet up with Matt outside the main house. Apparently Matt and good old Mr.
Cochran were like “this.” Rae
and Justine were headed out on the P-town “strip” as they had begun to call it.
Armed with stellar black dresses and a bottle of nondescript red wine, the
girls strutted toward Commercial Street and talked absentmindedly about their
week. “This
wine is really terrible,” Justine interjected as Rae recapped her experiences
with disgruntled martini-drinkers. “What?
Oh, it’s not that…Err, yeah, it is
kind of terrible.” Rae choked as she took another swig and passed the bottle to
Justine. “What made you get this?” “I
didn’t! You think I would actually buy
this cheap crap?” She thrust her nose into the air. “TJ gave it to me. Threw it
in for free.” She winked and thrust her hip to the side. “Oh,
TJ, huh?” Rae nodded dramatically. “He has good taste.” She took another swig
of the dark, biting red liquid. “He
does.” Justine nodded knowingly. She grabbed the bottle. “He asked me out. He’s
coming tonight.” “Great.”
Rae concentrated on navigating the dark, uneven sidewalk with her four-inch
heels. They walked in silence, swigging the borderline acidic wine. “So,
something sort of happened earlier...and it’s been bothering me a little bit.”
Rae began. “What?” “Well,
I was back in the cabin, just lying down, you know, reading a magazine.” “And?” “A
whack? You were lying in the cabin and you heard a ‘whack’?” Justine began to
laugh. Rae knew where she was going with this. “Maybe it was Matt in the next
cabin.” She began to giggle uncontrollably. Rae
could see she wouldn’t be getting anywhere with this. Not with Justine. She
should have foreseen that. She
gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Forget it. It was stupid. Anyway, I checked it
out and it was nothing. There was nothing back there.” Justine’s
giggles subsided. “Ok. Cool.” “That
mirror though…Have you ever looked in that mirror?” “Yeah
I freakin’ hate it! Makes me look fat.” “Yeah,
tell me about it.” She paused. “No, but there’s something off about that thing.
I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just weird. Like out of place, you know?” “Whoa,
slow down Nancy Drew.” Justine threw her hands up defensively. Rae forced a
feeble smile and pushed the idea from her head. She took another deep pull from
the bottle of vinegary solution, finishing it. Her head was beginning to get
fuzzy already. Finally, they stepped off of the shadowed street and onto the
“strip.” The liquor store guy was waiting for them on the bench outside of the
club. His spiked hair and sharp features gave him a severe look. Rae wrinkled
her nose. He was clutching a bottle of the same red wine. Chapter 6 The girls stumbled
into the parking lot of the Hostel to find Connor and Matt sitting on the steps
of their cabin, puffing at oversized cigars.
The place reeked of heavy smoke and Connor looked like he was going to
be sick. “What
the hell are you doing, little bro?” Justine pointed a shaky finger at Connor
and went into a fit of giggles. Connor
cringed with distaste. He hated when she pretended they were anything more than
forced acquaintances. His eyes watered as he puffed theatrically. “Y’wouldn’t
understand, babe.” He exhaled and surveyed the girls’ disheveled dresses and
spiky heels, which were now held in their hands, rather than strapped to their
tired feet. “Mmm…rough night?” Rae
shot him a look that said ‘don’t ask’ and pushed past the boys to the cabin and
her highly anticipated bunk. Justine remained outside. She was still feeling
tipsy and Matt was giving her the “eye.” Only
a few measly hours later, Rae was awoken with a start. A hollow crash
reverberated in her head. Her heart beat uncontrollably as she tried to decide
if the sound had been a part of her dream or if it had come from behind her, as
she suspected. She took a deep, labored breath and whipped her head around, her
eyes squinted shut. Once again, there was nothing there. Connor
was awake too, and already jumping down to the worn wooden floor. Rae started
to ask him if he had heard that, too. “Shhh!”
He cautioned as he moved closer to the back of the cabin. Rae
began to descend the ladder. Justine was sitting upright, clutching the blanket
to her body, frowning at the empty space beside her. Rae noted that Justine’s
dress lie on the floor, along with her bra and underwear. She
cleared her throat, forgetting her terror for a moment. “Where’s Matt?” “How
did you?” Justine started. “Oh, he had to go. Don’t look at me like that! I’m single. What? It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy yourself every once in a
while!” Rae
smiled and shook her head, wiping her eyes as she looked to where Connor was
investigating. “So
what was that noise, anyway?” Justine slipped an oversized t-shirt over her
head and began to walk toward Connor. “I
don’t know. It really freaked me out, though. I was having the strangest dream
at the time. At first, I wasn’t even sure if I was hearing something from my
nightmare or not.” Rae shook her head. Justine
turned back with a quizzical look. “Nightmare? Yeah…I was having one too.
Weird.” “If
you girls are finished comparing dreams and braiding each other’s hair, why don’t
you come look at this?” Connor beckoned to them. He stood in the pale light
from the window with one hand extended toward the corner of the room. As the
girls grew closer, they realized that he was standing in front of a low,
extremely narrow doorway. A doorway that hadn’t been there before. Rae’s
heart pounded through her chest. A million realizations rained down on her
trembling body. All at once, she remembered it so vividly. The three of them standing at the entryway to
an unspeakable place. The scene was straight out of her dream. Only this was
reality. She swallowed hard and backed away. “Where
the hell did this come from? Oh, don’t even tell me this was what was behind
that freakin’ mirror!” Justine choked. She backed away, alongside Rae. “This
s**t happened in the dream I just had.” She clapped a hand to her gaping mouth. Connor’s
eyes took on an intense quality. Rae studied his silent face. There was
something hidden there. He had experienced this before, too. She was sure of
it. He
swallowed hard and took a step toward the gaping rectangular hole in the
cinder-block wall. The inside blocks weren’t painted white like the rest. The
three stared through the gray stone entryway to the inky blackness beyond. All
of a sudden, a sharp scratching echoed through the space, causing them to jump
backward. Justine stifled a scream. Soft
tinkling music danced forth and Justine straightened up, smoothing her
raven-black hair. They stood, taking in the odd sounds of simple trumpet
playing and shaking their heads nervously, confused. Justine
was the first to speak, loud and angry. “This if freakin’ ridiculous! What the
hell is going on here? What do they think this is, some sort of peep show?! I
knew old Cochran was slimy but this is…” She trailed off, balling up her fists. “What
are you talking about?” Rae whispered. “Oh
please! He’s obviously been spying on us through this opening. I bet this leads
right to the main house!” She shook her head, clenching her lips together until
they lost color. “Oh s**t! I bet this was one of those 2-way mirrors!” “One-way,”
Connor interjected in a hushed monotone. “Right.
Whatever. I’m goin’ in there.” She announced as she ducked her head and swung
one bare foot into the narrow opening. Rae grabbed for her friend’s arm and
breathed a desperate plea for her to stop. She didn’t know what this situation
was, exactly, but she had an extremely bad feeling about it. Connor seemed to
share the same apprehension. His eyes hadn’t moved from the hidden passageway behind
the mirror since he’d discovered it. Connor
glanced at his sister and then turned to trail in Justine’s wake. Rae hissed at
him to come back, but resolved to follow. Her whole body trembled as she
ascended the stone steps. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to be left
alone. The
trumpet grew louder and was now accompanied by soft flute playing. The sounds
echoed off of the rough brick walls as they ascended further. Rae shook her
head, terrified. This just didn’t add up. Until a few minutes ago, they had
been staying in a one-story shoebox of a cabin. Now suddenly there was a hidden
entryway and stairs that led up to…where? There was nowhere left to go. She
pinched her own forearm as she took a few more steps and began to see the
outline of something rectangular ahead. She wasn’t dreaming. She confirmed
that. Connor had stopped
up ahead. She couldn’t see past him too well, but could make out a doorknob and
the open white door it was attached to. The music was louder now, like it was
coming from a few feet away. Suddenly, she
began to hear soft shuffling footsteps. Connor turned to
face her. Rae was shocked to see the look of terror on his normally stoic face.
All she could do was shake her head and grab his outstretched hand. He pulled
them onward, pushing back the door a little further. Chapter 7 Connor tugged Rae
into a brightly lit, low ceilinged room with a dark wooden floor and exposed
beams. There was no furniture, only a large old fashioned trunk and an antique
record player that spun the sounds of old renaissance music, echoing too loudly
in the stark space. She spun around,
mystified. That was when she saw
Justine. For the last time.
Justine stood at
the opposite end of the room and faced the empty corner. Her arms hung
prostrate to her side. The veins in her neck were bulging. Her black hair
obscured her face and she wasn’t moving. Rae took a step
toward her, shaking her head methodically as she went. A tear streaked down her
face. She knew that something was wrong. She stood behind her friend and racked
her brain for any reason why she would be here, standing the way she was. There
was something so unnatural. She reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Immediately, she
leapt backward through the air with the sting of a jarring electric shock. She
rubbed her tingling hand. Justine’s skin was red-hot to the touch. Rae cried openly
now. She couldn’t control it any longer. “Justine?” No answer. “Justine, what’s
going on?” She clapped a hand to her mouth and felt the tears streaming down
her face. Her right hand reached out to grab the shoulder of the oversized
t-shirt Justine wore. She exhaled quickly and pulled. “No!” Connor
yelled from behind her. Justine spun
around, her body stiff and unyielding. Her face twisted in agony and horror as
she lost her footing and tumbled straight into Rae’s unsuspecting arms. She was
forced backward under Justine’s dead weight and toppled onto the old wooden
trunk along the wall. Rae felt a series of electrical currents course through
her body as she attempted to cradle her friend. All of a sudden,
the pain ceased and Justine melted into Rae’s arms. Her brown eyes looked,
horror-stricken, into Rae’s. “What? Justine?
What happened? I don’t understand!” She sobbed. The sound of the
creaking door prompted Justine to whimper and peer across the room. Rae gazed
through tear-soaked eyes along the worn floor to the space behind the door,
which had just been shut tight. But that wasn’t what caused her heart to stop
beating. There, now in plain
view, was an old, craggy white-haired woman dressed in a dark brown dress that
hung in rags to the floor. She hunched forward in an awkward, menacing stare
and her long strands covered the thick skin of her pale face. She seemed to
tremble violently all over and Rae realized with horror that she was laughing.
A fresh set of sobs spilled forth as she clutched Justine’s body to her chest
and began once more to shake her head again and again. The snarled woman
spoke. “Hmm. Pleased to
meet you, Rae Marie. My, you’re a pretty one. Almost as pretty as your friend
here.” She clicked her tongue and took a few long strides toward where the
girls lie collapsed between the dusty trunk and the wall. “I’ll give you two a
moment.” She smiled sadistically and crossed her long hands across her bony
chest. “Rae.” Justine
choked through terrified sobs. “I’m sorry.” She seemed to fight for breath as
Rae clutched her tighter. The girls locked eyes for one final moment. “I love
you...burn.” Then her eyes
closed and the anguish left her tired face. “Justine!” Rae
screamed. “No! Justine, Justine,! No, no, no, no.” She pulled her friend’s head
up to her neck and rocked back and forth, shaking her head. “Yes, remarkable,
is it not?” The repulsive old woman stepped forward once again, filling the
room with her strained but remarkably confident voice. “The last moments are
always the most telling.” She snickered. “You! You did
this?” Rae swallowed hard. “You did this! Why?” She howled. “Oh ho! It is what
I do, my dear. I weigh and I measure, and she…it pains me to say…was not of the
right caliber.” She smiled. “Just pray
thou do not fair the same.” Rae’s stomach
churned as she took in the decrepit old woman’s amusement. She curled her thick
pale lips and narrowed her eyes, taking a step toward Rae, tangled underneath
the body of her best friend. “No!” Connor revealed
himself as the old woman threatened his sister. He jumped to his feet. “Oh! Ho, ho,” The
old woman cackled and turned slowly toward Connor’s protesting voice. “The meek
becomes the stout-hearted, aye?” She tilted her craggy head backward to let out
a delighted squawk. “You’ve done
enough. Leave her alone.” Connor stated matter-of-factly. He puffed out his
chest and squared his shoulders. “Quite, quite. But
sadly, son, I have much left to do,” She smiled, baring blackened teeth. “See,
it does not occur every day that I grace others with my presence. In fact, it
is not every century. But you…”
She pointed one straggly finger toward his worried face. “And in particular, your
sister,” She tilted her head toward Rae, “Mmm, very special. Yes. Very…well, it
is of no matter. Not yet, anyway. But poor… Justine,
was it?” She smiled back at Rae and paused to lick her lips, “Yes, Justine. She
was not so pure of heart, nor of body.”
Rae cowered behind
the old wooden chest as fresh sobs began to surface. “WHY?!” Connor
demanded. “What did she ever do to you? What the…” He looked furtively
throughout the room and tore at his dirty blonde hair, “What the hell is going
on?!” The old woman
crossed toward him, but he held his ground. She began to circle him, her eyes
rolling back into her head. She inhaled a long, labored breath and whispered as
she strode determinedly around him. “Ahhh,” She
finally stopped, satisfied. “I am sorry, my boy. Thou art next.” Connor stared in
disbelief and dropped to his knees, covering his face. It was more than Rae
could bear to watch. She shifted Justine’s weight onto the wooden chest and
rose to her numb feet. The old woman’s back was turned. Rae felt as if she were
walking on a bed of sharp thumbtacks as she strode unwaveringly across the bare
floor. She grimaced in
distaste. The old woman, as if sensing this, turned slowly toward her. “Yes? Something to
say, my dear?” She licked her lips. Rae could smell her rank breathe from the
distance. She swallowed
hard. “Yeah. Yes, I do.” She raised her tear-soaked face. “I don’t know who the
hell you are….Or how we got here….Or why you F*****G,” She closed her eyes,
shaking, “killed my best friend!” The old woman
smiled, baring blackened teeth. She was enjoying this. “But you will
never, EVER hurt my F*****G little brother!” “Is that so? Well,
it seems we have a dilemma. You see, I will be hurting your precious
baby brother. There is no manner of stopping it. Ahh, well, there is no probable
manner…” “What the hell are
you talking about, witch?” Rae scowled, fueled by anger and adrenaline. “Oh! Ho! I haven’t
been called by that name in some time, now. Oh, but you children have been entertaining, haven’t you?”
She chuckled to herself. Rae likened the sound to nails on a chalkboard. “Mmm,
very well Raven, have it your way.” Rae cringed at the
use of her full name. This b***h knew everything. But how? “You will be given
a series of tasks. Yes, the both of you. Like it or not, you are now a part of
this little…game. I had plans for you
to begin with, but considering your lack of cooperation, you have forced me to rethink my original agenda.” “Tasks? Are you…?
You want us to help you?” “Help me? No,
child. I want you to help you! You
see, you cannot neglect these responsibilities,
not if you wish to remain as you are…that being alive.” She smiled, amused. She enjoyed toying with them. Rae fumed with
anger. “And what happens if we do this? What happens if we beat your games?” The hate coursed through her veins. She shook
with the intensity of her loathing. “Beat me? Child,
ho, ho! Such is not going to happen. No one has ever succeeded…and I have been
in practice for longer than your
pitiable little mind is capable of comprehending.” Rae took a deep
breath and matched the old woman’s steady glare and confident smile. She rose
up onto her bare toes. “I’m sorry, let me rephrase that.” She mocked
concentration. “What happens WHEN I succeed? What happens when I beat you, you
f*****g ugly, broken-down-a*s b***h? The old woman was
taken aback. She smoothed the front of her moth-eaten robes. “I would prefer
pythoness, necromancer, thaumaturgist, even. Though, that one is a bit ill fitting, I have to admit. The point
being, my dear girl: You simply cannot do what you profess so brazenly.” She focused her stare to a
laser’s edge. “It cannot be done.” She smiled, her yellow teeth bared. “Regardless,
you will do as I say.” Rae crossed her
arms and glanced to where Connor slumped against the wall, resigned. She had never
felt more protective of him. The old woman
cleared her ancient throat. “Time for rest, my unfortunate little adversaries.
You will be in need of it.” She got down low, an inch from Rae’s trembling
face. “Three days. ” She clapped her hands. And with that, Rae
felt a swirling jolt and came crashing down onto her bunk back in cabin 3. She
heard a similar crash behind her and spun around to see Connor balled up on top
of his own bed. “Rae, I’m really
scared,” He choked. “I know.” She avoided
his eyes. What had happened? And what had she gotten them into? Exactly what
had she promised? The anger left her body, replaced by a haunted emptiness. She
didn’t know if she could do this. “Don’t worry,
Connor,” She stated, assuredly. “I can do this.” Chapter
8 Connor was awoken
by a shrill, vibrating ring. He instinctively grabbed at his pants pocket and
blindly pressed a tiny plastic button. A whiny New York accent greeted him
warmly. “Conna??
You betta be on your way down hea as we speak. This place is crawlin’ with
yuppies and you should be elbow-deep in cookin’ grease by now.” He
sat up straight, scraping his head on the rough popcorn ceiling. “Ow. Cindy?
What time is it? Nevermind. Be right there.” “You
betta be! And grab your sista while you’re at it. These drag queens look
thirsty.” Drag queens, thought Connor, Cindy could be so insensitive. Everyone knew
that Provincetown was known for catering to homosexuals. “Yup.
I’m on it.” Connor stated and slapped his phone shut. He rubbed his eyes and
wondered at the underlying haze of dread that seemed to hang over the room. He
glanced over at Rae and down at Justine. Or where Justine should have been.
Then all at once it hit him. Everything. The whole night. The passageway hidden
behind the mirror, the room, the old, murdering…hag that had sucked the life out of Justine. God knew why. No, he shook his head as tears filled
his eyes; God had nothing to do with the
events of last night. He
slithered down from his bunk and continued to shake his head. He couldn’t stop.
He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. What
was he supposed to do now? He felt frozen. Shouldn’t he do something? Shouldn’t
somebody do something? Weren’t there
things that needed to be done? To be reported? He
felt the anxiety creep up through his insides. His head grew fuzzy and felt
like it was floating, disconnected. What could he say? “Hello, officer, yes I’d
like to report a murder. What happened? Well, you see: We found a secret
passageway hidden inside our cabin which led to a second story that doesn’t
exist and a bitter, murderous old witch who paralyzed my sister’s friend before
ultimately sucking the life from her before our very eyes. Then she threatened
to kill me, too. That’s all. Oh, and she claimed to be centuries old and talked
like she was from the period of Excalibur-wielding, mask-wearing,
Goddess-worshipping...real Morgan Le Fay
type of s**t.” Got all that? Connor
paced the room, but stopped when he got to the fridge. He cracked open a fresh
IPA and chugged it in one long, continuous gulp. He didn’t even taste it. Then
he went outside and stood barefoot in the overgrown reeds. He took a deep
breath and screamed as loud as he could. Gasping, he collapsed onto a patch of
wet sand. Five
minutes and another beer later, he woke up his sister. She had been crying all
night. He could tell by the ring of red around her eyes. She had a sunken,
hollow look. The two talked, cried, and argued for the next ten minutes. Then
they cried some more. Ultimately,
they decided to go to work. This had less to do with the angry phone call from
Cindy and more to do with the need for a distraction while they figured out how
to proceed. The
place was swamped all morning. Connor was all but ready to punch the lights out
of the next person that a) ordered clams casino, b) sent back another order, or
c) asked him what the hell was wrong with him and why he looked like he’d been
on an all-night bender. He didn’t feel
like talking about it. Couldn’t talk about it. Physically could not. The entire
process of not understanding, of denial, of blocking everything out was utterly
exhausting. Which
was why, at the usual three-o-clock lull, he decided to hide out on top of a
few burlap sacks of potatoes and behind a shipment of Sam Adams. Surely no one
would miss him for the next five to seven minutes. Despite
his worries, Connor fell instantly to sleep. He faded quickly into an inky
blackness that enveloped him warmly and put him at ease. That, of course, was
when he fell down the proverbial rabbit hole. He
fell, literally, for what seemed like an eternity. His body swirled around and
around in an endless spiral of uncertainty and terror. He heard an animal
screeching from far down below. The tortured voice grew louder as he fell with
increasing speed and force. A
small cylindrical object floated up from underneath. No, not floating, just
falling more slowly than he was. He reached out for it and grabbed it with his
thumb and forefinger. It was brittle and dry. Its grayish appearance was
familiar to him, though he couldn’t comprehend much of anything at the moment.
A gasp of recognition and he let go, allowing it to float beside him as he
continued to fall. A
bone. A small, decaying bone. Probably that of an animal. He
wiped his hand on his pants and looked down to see a plethora of bones far down
below, rising up toward his rushing body. He covered his mouth as the stench of
them took over the space. The bones were joined by feathers. The feathers joined
by small pieces of leather and twine. Finally, balls of collected hair came
wafting toward him as he covered his face to hide from the smell and the
unease. But
he couldn’t block what invaded his senses. His eyes burned, his mouth tasted
dry and foreign, his nose became invaded with a stench he recognized. He had
heard that the sense of smell was the one most closely tied to memory.
Something to do with the position in the brain as both resided in the temporal
lobe. What a ridiculous thing to remember at a time like this. It
was old Mr. Cochran. He knew it was disgusting…but he could smell him. He uncovered his nose just in
time for a dry clump of hair to suck itself to his nostrils. He spat in
earnest. That was it. The hairs smelled
like old Mr. Cochran. But why? That
was when the screeching animal grew louder. Goosebumps broke out all over his
trembling body. That, too, he recognized now. The voice didn’t belong to an
animal at all…but her. The witch. “Put
them together, m’dear lad. You wanted to be saved, did you not? Put them
together and plant them where they belong. Do this, and you live to breathe
another morn.” A
vivid scene filled every corner of Connor’s mind. He saw tall reeds and small
scurrying animals. He saw a white lattice, worn from summers by the sea. He
recognized the chipped white paint on the dented siding. It was the main house
at the Outermost. As if it somehow sensed his recognition, the picture shifted
and zoomed to a particular window at the back of the building. There was a
small hole in the lattice around the bottom of the house. It had probably been
chewed through by a raccoon or a rabbit. Then
he saw an arm, his arm, he was sure of
it, reaching forth. The hand was holding a small leather pouch, teaming
with what looked like small bones and feathers. The other hand stuffed a wad of
gray-brown hairs into the opening and began to twist a bit of twine around the
encasing. The hands reached into the hole and placed the pouch inside, hidden.
The picture began to zoom out, the hands retreated. He retreated. He
was rising up now, his body changing direction and gaining speed. He left it
all behind and rose up out of the inky darkness. All
at once, he opened his eyes and came crashing down on top of the rough burlap
sack of potatoes. His eyes shot around the kitchen, hyper-vigilant. Surely it
had all been a dream. But
then why was he brushing gray-brown hairs off of his uniform? Chapters 9+ in transition and coming soon! © 2011 Lindsay |
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Added on October 6, 2009 Last Updated on July 9, 2011 Tags: thriller, teen, comedy, drama, supernatural Previous Versions AuthorLindsayLaurel springs, NJAboutI love music, traveling, reading, writing, psychology, dancing, and photos. more..Writing
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