Katrina became much easier to find after that. She ended up popping in on my lunch break at the cafe. “So, how exactly can I help you with whatever you are trying to accomplish?” she asked, sitting across from me and casually crossing her legs.
“I thought you wanted me to stop trying to investigate things?” I asked with a mouth full of grilled cheese.
“Well, I do, but you seem like the kind of person who will only try harder when someone tells you to stop.”
“So, is this reverse psychology, or are you trying to make my investigation go fast?” I asked, wiping my mouth.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure yet. I’ll play it by ear.”
“Fair enough. Also, hello, didn’t expect to see you.”
She chuckled and looked away. “Hello. Sorry, I guess I was coming at things a little too hot. I’ll try to be more conversational.” She held out her hand.
“My name is Katrina, but seeing as you live here, you probably already know that, just like you knew where I lived. So, the real question is what made you come here to poke around?”
“I’m Athena. I wanted to know what makes a whole town ok with kidnappings and supernatural activities.”
“Nice name. And that's a fair reason, but I think it's the wrong one.”
“Well, what would be the right reason then?”
“The unfortunate fact of the situation is not that the town is ok with it. These small town girls who might party, or drink, or rebel against their christian parents, have become
completely docile. In fact they are almost doll-like and the parents and teachers love it. It’s not about the town being ok with it, it's about them loving it.”
“I didn’t know we had reached the level of praise.”
“Wait ‘til you’re here for a Sunday. I’m sure you’ve seen the Church in this town by now. Step inside: you’ll see exactly what I am talking about.” She played with a crumpled up straw wrapper in her left hand and the waitress came to take her order.
As I watched her fiddle, I noticed something. Her hand was covered in the black filigree- like marks that look like they snaked up her arms.
“Nice tattoos,” I said.
She turned, mildly shocked, “Uh thanks, most people around here don’t like them.” The way she said it, it sounded like she didn’t like them either.
“Will you be in the church?” I asked.
“No. Me and the church don’t exactly agree with each other,” She laughed.
“I mean, I can’t say churches really agree with me either. Or religion in general.”
“I would call my aversion to holy ground a little more than a disagreement. It’s more of a fist fight in front of a supermarket at 3 am.”
“I have very little idea what you mean by that.”
“It’s kind of like, I never asked forit.Ididnotseekitout,butitisin my life and it is actively making it a shit show.”
I almost choked on my food as she said it. “That’s a good one, I like that.”
“I’m glad you like my humor, not many people do.”
“I don’t really get the bias against you so far. You seem pretty cool.”
“Well, I guess it’s easy to blame the person who wasn’t born in this culture. A lot of the opinions around here are ‘different is bad’.”
“Well mine aren’t,” I replied. “And, believe it or not, I want to help you. I will go to church on Sunday; maybe I can find out something that might help,” I said, while the waitress brought the checks.
“If there is something that actually can help, I am more than willing to listen.”
“You see, and here I was thinking you knew everything already.”
“You know, sometimes I think I do, but then something comes around to punch that idea right out of me.” She left cash for both meals on the table and headed down the street. So much for being more conversational. I didn’t even get a goodbye. ________________________________
The church had cars parked all the way down the street on Sunday. They even pulled into the grass around the church and blocked driveways, but I guess no one needed to get out of their driveway if they could just walk to church. Everyone dressed like it was the national golf championship, or a charity luncheon, or a tea garden themed baby shower. The only things showing on the women were necks and knees and the men were completely buttoned up and buckled.
I remember church back home, anyone would pop in, in any outfit. It was less about appearance and more
about just wanting to give people something to participate in. There was a collection by the door. I put in a dollar the few times I went. The sermons were almost personal, as the few people who came in typically had specific issues. I think our pastor ended up being more of a therapist by the end of it, in his small stone building where everything was either hardwood or a candle. I don’t believe this priest would be like that. He might pretend to be, but he would never stick around long enough to have it be meaningful. When people entered and were seated he sent a collection basket around to each individual, as he adjusted his robes and ran his hands through weirdly slicked back hair.
I was never told what denomination this church was. I knew the one back home was Lutheran by the sign, but I saw no sign here and the pastor didn’t talk in any way to let me know that the church belonged to any other denomination besides his own.
His first words to his audience are, “How is everyone this fine morning?” There was a combined response of happy clapping and words like ‘great’. “I am happy to hear that all you good people are doing well. Things have been peaceful in this small town of ours, and as wonderful as it is, it has created some worry. You see, some people see this time of peace as a possible calm before a storm, the sort of silence before a bomb explodes. To these people I say this: ‘And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose’. This is Romans 8:28. I like to remind people of this passage in times of worry, for it is stated here in these pages that we need not worry about a storm, for as long as we follow the word of the Lord we will always be sheltered. God will not turn on his followers, though we may have hard times, he will only send us these trials to build us as people, and not to forsake us. We are people of the Lord and therefore we need not fear his wrath, and his love will protect us from the wrath of any other worldly force that threatens us. Now many may ask about other worldly forces. What do we do when the hands of Satan come down upon us and bring us to our knees? To these people, I say to do like Jesus and turn the other cheek, for to turn to violence is to act like the devil himself. We will not form mobs or armies, we will simply continue our lives, keeping the temptations of the devil out of our minds and away from our activities. We will pray in times of adversity, for we must always be the bigger person by asking advice from the biggest person we know.” He ended his statement with excitement while the congregation chanted amen. Girls all around me nod in agreement. I am a little perplexed, because even though he wasn’t wrong, he didn’t really say much.
As people line up for some sort of communion, which I think would make this Catholic, all I can feel is a strange sense of unease. The communion that they were standing for wasn’t those little wafers, it was cookies. It was just actual, whole, chocolate chip cookies. I am not an expert on the religious significance of certain foods, but I don’t think Jesus had those.
I didn’t get up and take one, because it would be weird to take something from this group that I’m
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pretty much researching like David Attenborough in a remote rainforest. I watched the girls the most closely and noticed something interesting. They all were following commands from their parents. They were small things like “Stand here,” or “Take one,” or “Smile and say thank you,” but they would immediately perform the task like a dog. They seemed somewhat self aware, and could talk, but would still snap to obedience when given commands. What was even weirder is that all the girls looked alike, despite the variety of their parents' appearances: they all had blond hair or highlighted blonde hair. It went about two inches past their collar bone and it was all parted to the right, so the majority of their hair fell over their left eye. Their tattoos were not seemingly randomly placed, some on collar bones, some on necks, and some on arms. They were all on a similar scale, about 5 inches and pitch black.
The symbol was almost rune- like, it was similar to the infinity symbol filled in with two lines through the widest parts of either side. The left side had a longer line than the right. Not out of the ordinary for young women, but people this conservative didn’t seem like they liked making eye contact with them. Meanwhile, the girls displayed them almost pridefully. The second their hair covered the tattoo, or fabric laid over it, they moved it out of the way. It was like it needed to breathe.
I tried to leave at this point. I had seen all I needed too and I didn’t particularly like being exposed to it. Making my way to the door, I was blocked by yet another overbearing personality. He was about 6 feet tall, and definitely overweight. He had a mop of brown hair and an awkward, kind of high pitched voice as he stepped in front of the doorway.
“Hey, you're the new girl in town right?” he said a little too loud.
“Supposedly,” I responded, trying to get around him.
“Supposedly? That seems like something you should know, honestly. I mean, do you expect us to get a lot of new people in this town?” It was hard to tell if he was joking or mad.
“I mean, I just got here so I don’t really know that, but yeah, I guess I am the new girl.” He was almost impossible to dodge around to get out.
“Well, it’s cool to see you here then. I’m William, the pastor’s my dad and we like new faces. So, what was your church like back where you live?”
“It wasn’t really anything like this. It was more about organizing community activities and stuff. Anyway, I have to go. I have someone waiting for me to feed them.”
“What could be more important than the teachings of god?”
“His name is Wally. I have to go now.”
“Is he like your boyfriend?”
“No, he is more of a roommate. Bye now.”
“Wait, give me your number so you’ll know someone.”
“I already know people.”
“Well then you’ll know one more.” He shoved his phone at me. I wanted to leave and fighting seemed pointless. I gave him Paradox’s number and dodged around him as he looked it over.
Outside the church, just beyond the cul de sac, was a familiar crop of
red hair accompanied by Jess. This should be a fun dynamic to see. I walked up and Katrina gave me a two finger salute as Jess ran up and hugged me.
“It’s nice to see you too,” I responded.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while, you never called me,” Jess said, overly excited. Katrina looked at us, holding back a chuckle while watching me be awkward.
“Um, Athy?” Jess jumped me out of what I realized was starring over her head at Katrina.
“Um, yeah sorry, it’s just been a lot with getting the job and getting all my stuff in and everything- what did you call me?”
“Athy, like short for Athena.”
“You don’t need to shorten it. I’d actually prefer you didn’t,” I said, coldly. She got a look of confusion. I really did want her to be at least six inches from my face when talking. Katrina stood more straight, her face became a little more serious.
Katrina chimed in, “So what did you think of the sermon.”
“Just weird. It wasn’t all bad, but it didn’t seem right.”
“Yeah, that tracks. They were expecting you today then.”
“One person certainly was.”
“Yeah, I figured he would be,” she smirked.
I chuckle, glad to hear that this doesn’t just happen to me.
“Anyway, do you want to get lunch with us? I’m sure you could use some more expressive company,” Jess interjected while taking my hands..
“Sure?”
We went to lunch at the same pizza place where me and Jess met.
Jess seemed giddy. I tried to talk to Katrina about her week, but the more I did, the more Jess seemed to interject into the conversation.
We sat down and ordered. I decided to pry a little, because small talk wasn’t getting me anywhere. “So, how did you two meet? I never really got either of your full backstories.”
Katrina smiled. “We met in high school. Mutual outcast type-deal.”
Jess continued, “Yeah, I was the only one who would talk to her. She’s the only one here without a whole family line from this town.”
“Really?”, I said. “So did you both move here, or is Jess just a sympathetic soul?”
“I moved here when my mom married Dave. Jess has always lived here, just doesn’t like it ‘cause her house has consistent internet access, unlike most people here who are still on weird dial-up.”
“It makes me feel like I moved here because I actually know what's on the outside.” Jess looked off wistfully.
“So, where were you born?”, I asked Katrina.
“Oh, I don’t know. I was five when I moved here, and after my mom died, I didn’t have people to tell me stuff like that. I don’t know if Dave could even find my birth certificate.”
Jess looked baffled, as I was, but for different reasons. “I thought you didn’t like talking about your mom.”
“Well, I guess times are changing. Besides, it’s important for context,” Katrina replied. Jess seemed unhappy with her.
“And your biological dad couldn’t take you? Seems like most places would be better than with almost a total stranger,” I ask. Jess really looks
angry now. Katrina seems to notice, but she answers anyway.
“I never knew him or anything about him. He could be dead, he could have no idea I exist, but either way I can’t find him, so Dave it is. I’ve made it this far, so it could be worse.”
“What is everyone’s issue with Dave anyway? It’s not like he’s a murderer or arsonist, he just stood against the church,” Jess broke in.
“Stood against the church?” I ask.
“That’s a strong word for it,” Katrina said. “When I was younger, they wanted me to go to the church’s preschool. Every other kid in the neighborhood was going, but Dave refused because he didn’t want to pay for it. So, I never got to socialize with the kids early and I never got the early religious influence.”
“Which is good! More people should be willing to go against the church and make their own choices about their kids' education,” Jess cheered.
“Yeah, if that’s what happened. In reality, he told the church rep that came to our house to eat a dick, spent all the money he could have used to send me to school on whiskey, and left me alone while he went to work to figure out how to read by myself.”
“So, it sounds like you aren’t that close with him. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you find a family in your lifetime,” I said. Katrina gave a little smile and nodded. Jess just huffed and went back to her drink. Our food came, which gave a little respite from the awkward conversation.
“What about the guy in the woods, is he your family?” Jess barked.
“Does he treat you well enough?”
“Jess, keep your voice down!” Katrina whispered harshly.
“Well, you seem to think he gives you enough attention. That’s what you wanted from Dave, right? Attention? He never told you you looked pretty enough, or sent you to all the right activities. You have no idea how lucky you are!” Jess stormed out at that point. My head was reeling. Katrina just stared down while she rolled a straw wrapper between her finger and thumb.
“I’ll pay for her meal. I’m sorry about that,” Katrina said, with no eye contact.
“It’s totally fine, we can split it. And it’s not your fault. I don’t know everything that’s going on, but I think you are allowed to not feel attached to Dave,” I responded, “And you're allowed to attach to anyone you want.”
“Attach is a strong word.” She pauses and looks outside. “But I don’t have a better one.” Katrina was quiet for a few minutes, “She has a point. I would like attention from someone. Granted, if Dave called me pretty I think it would scare me more than make me feel better.”
“Well, that makes me worried, but, I mean, who doesn’t want someone to tell them they're doing things right. Support is good and it’s the foundation for healthy growth, or at least that’s what therapists told me when I was little.”
“I guess. I sort of have that.”
“From the man in the woods?” I ask cautiously, “Or whatever she was talking about?”
“I should have never told Jess. I know she can’t keep her mouth shut when she wants to stir trouble.”
“Who is he? Is he that weird living sandbag I saw?”
“No, he makes the weird sandbag guys out of people who have disappeared.”
“Do you... help him with that?”
“God, no. I have to do things for him, not with him. Don’t make that mistake.”
“So you feel like you don’t have a choice.”
“I don’t feel.” Katrina was cold. “I know, but that’s not important.”
“How is that not important?”
“Because it's beyond my control at this point, I’m not sure I ever had control. It’s like your friend's problem. That’s why you're here isn’t it, Riot?”
My blood went icy. “What did you say?”
She snapped up, becoming aware of her own words. “I should go.” She tossed down some money
and ran out of the pizza place.
I was still in shock as I started
walking back to my car near the church. I peer into the woods behind the houses, guessing what might be back there and how it knew what I was. I climb into my car. I can’t see; I put on my reading light. The windows are black, like they were covered in a trash bag or something. I pull on the handle, with no luck. I was stuck.
“So, you're our little Theseus,” a gruff, velvety voice echoed from the back seat. I wanted to turn, but something in me told me I knew better than to do that. “I heard you’ve taken an awful big liking to my work.”
“Who are you?” I ask, slightly shaken.
“I’m the man who likes to have fun in this town, simple as that.”
“What’s your name?”
“Oh honey, now I know you know better than to ask for that. Or is this the first time you’ve met a guy like me?” he took a sharp inhale, “Oh, I don’t think it is.”
“What do you want?”
“You know that answer already, love. Now, usually girls meet a penalty for coming across me in their free time, but you're not really my type. I only need one beat-up super-powered love child in my possession, so I’ll let you off with this: Leave my girls alone, or you're gonna find answers to questions you didn’t even know you had.” The blackness dissipated, and I could see outside. I turned around. The seat was empty.