Kayla Miller wearily leaned back in her chair as she started her break. She took a bottle of hydrocodone from her purse and dry-swallowed one of the little blue pills. She had hurt her knee last week, and it was giving her hell—especially since she had been on her feet all morning. Normally, she would have chased the pill with a shot of whiskey, but she still had a couple of hours to go before her shift ended. She couldn’t afford to get drunk right now. Sam, the owner of McClain’s Bar & Grill, wouldn’t tolerate that.
“Does Sam know you’re on drugs?” came a smartass voice.
Startled, Kayla whipped around. “What?”
Her coworker, Grace White, stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Grace was at least 50 years old but looked like she was way over 60. Deep frown lines marred her face, and her mouth puckered in scorn. She had been working here a lot longer than Kayla, and she did not appreciate what she considered the girl’s lackadaisical manner. In fact, she hated the younger girl so much that she had rifled through Kayla’s purse earlier that day and found the bottle.
“That’s the trouble with you kids,” she sneered. “You’re all doing drugs and you don’t want to work.”
“I’m on break,” Kayla retorted, “and I’m taking naproxen.”
Grace nodded. “Sure you are,” she said sarcastically. She pointed at the pill bottle in her coworker’s hand. “Because Tylenol comes in prescription bottles.”
Kayla clutched the bottle tightly. She cursed her carelessness. “Tylenol isn’t naproxen, and it’s none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business,” Grace replied. “Everyone knows you’re an addict. What’s your poison, Kayla? Meth? I’m sure you can’t afford heroin.”
“Go to hell,” the other woman sighed, trying her best not to take the bait.
But Grace wasn’t done. “I think I’ll just tell Sam what I saw. He’ll do a mandatory drug test on you and you’ll be out of here.”
Kayla sat up straight, her temper rising. She really needed to keep this job. “Stop it, Grace. Today is not the day to screw with me.”
The older lady smirked. “What are you going to do? I have seniority here and I’m tired of your attitude.”
Kayla closed her eyes again. Today was the fourth anniversary of Emma and Jazmine’s deaths. Pictures of the blood and gore flickered across her mind. She had lost her two best friends—her only friends—that awful day. A year later, she had lost her brother Andy to suicide. Alcohol kept those images away most of the time, but not now. Not today.
“Why did your parents name you Grace?” Kayla mused.
Now it was the other woman’s turn to be surprised. “What?”
“Why did your parents name you Grace?” Kayla repeated. “Because you sure don’t seem to have any.”
“You little witch!” Grace took a step forward, her fists clenched.
The door burst open, and Sam scowled at the two women. “Do you two plan to work today, or are you having a tea party back here?”
Grace immediately pointed at Kayla, making good on her threat. “She’s doing drugs! I just saw her take some pills. Look, she’s still holding the bottle.”
Sam looked at Kayla and held out his hand. She gave him the pill bottle without complaint.
“Hydrocodone,” Sam nodded. He glanced over at Grace. “She has a prescription for this. She told me about it on Monday. That’s why she’s serving this week instead of bartending.”
Grace glared at Kayla, infuriated that her ploy had failed. “She’s a liar! She told me she was taking naproxen.”
“Yes,” Kayla answered, “I told you that because it’s none of your damn business.”
Sam returned the bottle to Kayla and jerked his thumb toward the door. “Back to work, ladies, and no more of this crap. This is a restaurant, not a playground.”
He returned to the dining area with an embarrassed Grace and an angry Kayla in tow. The women ignored each other for the rest of the day.
Outside, a thunderstorm began to brew.
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Addison, Mississippi, had undergone many changes over the past century. It was originally a large city - full of wonderful architecture, numerous amenities, and many thriving businesses. Since the 60s, however, white flight had robbed Addison of that wealth. After all, the jobs went where the money went and the money went to the suburbs. That left Addison mostly to poor white people and a mix of people of color. The buildings weren’t exactly crumbling, but they weren’t well-maintained either. The city had gotten a grant from the federal government to clean up Main Street, but it wouldn’t be nearly enough to bring people back. Now that the good jobs had disappeared and crime had gone up, Addison had gained a sinister reputation.
Maybe that’s why Kayla moved here from Wickham. She felt like she could relate. Addison had more job opportunities than that one-horse town, but Kayla’s real goal was to escape her family’s bad reputation and the memories of her friends’ untimely deaths.
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Adjusting the phone on the tripod, she prepared for her next shoot. Working at McClain’s barely covered her rent and car payment, but at least she could take her meals there. With groceries at an all-time high, Kayla was glad her boss allowed it. Underneath his gruff exterior, Sam had a good heart.
The girl put her foot near a small bowl of lotion. She rubbed the cream on her heel first, slowly moving towards her wiggling toes. As she parted her big toe and second toe, she seductively slipped her finger between them. Back and forth, between each set of toes, went the lotion. She made the stupid “sexy noises” that her viewers liked—the gasps and moans that suggested she was enjoying herself. Kayla definitely did not enjoy it. She never imagined she’d have a foot-fetish following, but she had to pay for her whiskey somehow. At least she wasn’t prostituting, she told herself.
A few minutes later, she turned off the camera and grabbed a towel to clean her feet. After making some small edits to the video, she uploaded it to the website. Hopefully, some extra money would come rolling in.
Lightning flashed outside.
Kayla thought back to the day’s event with Grace. She despised that smug, withered little woman’s attempts to get her fired. The only way Grace could feel good about herself was to tear down everyone else. She was sort of like Kayla’s dad.
Her dad…
She thought back to that night, four years ago, when she came home and found her father’s body in the bathtub. She neither knew nor cared why he had eaten his gun. Her dad was a monster, and she was glad he was gone. She hadn’t shed one tear over him. At least he had the decency to kill himself in the shower so the cleanup would be easy.
Thoughts of the blood again reminded Kayla of Emma and Jazmine. There was no getting over the loss of her two dearest friends. She had tried to move on, but their ghosts kept haunting her. The girl blamed herself for their deaths. If Kayla hadn’t hit Cody too hard with the pool noodle, Emma wouldn’t have gotten infected. If she hadn’t given Jazmine a gun - if Kayla hadn’t frozen at the crucial moment - her friend wouldn’t have been shot. Any way she looked at it, everything was her fault.
Then there was the creature that had spoken to her through Emma. It took control of her friend after the near-drowning at the lake and killed several people at the diner where she had worked - including Jazmine’s sister, Tess. It made zombie slaves of about 150 more people. Kayla shuddered to think of how many more would have died if she and Jazmine hadn’t confronted the being in Emma’s body.
The inhuman being, she remembered. Could it be true that the same creature had taken control of her great-grandfather back in ’53? Why had it chosen Wickham and why had it chosen her family and friends? Those questions were still unanswered. However, the worst part was that she couldn’t tell anyone the truth about that summer. Nobody would have believed her.
Armed with a jug of Canadian Mist whiskey (yes, a jug - she couldn’t afford anything better), she opened her laptop and started scrolling through her social media sites. She was deep in her cups when she heard a chat app beep. Rubbing her tired eyes, she tried to focus on the words.
Emmajoy03: Hello, Kayla.
Kayla sat straight up, jarred by the unwelcome intrusion. Someone was playing around and on the anniversary of Emma’s death, no less. She sighed as she typed out a reply.
kkkayla4u: not funny, go away
Emmajoy03: No.
kkkayla4u: fine then ill block ur ass
She clicked the block button and closed the app’s window. Even after four years, some people still played cruel tricks on her. The app opened again on its own.
Emmajoy03: That won’t work, Kayla.
The girl blinked. How had this person gotten around the block function? Come to that, how had they gotten access to Emma’s account?
kkkayla4u: reported
Emmajoy03: Who cares? That’s an interesting username, kkkayla. Makes your daddy proud?
kkkayla4u: my father is dead as im sure you no
Emmajoy03: Let’s see what Jazmine thinks about it.
kkkayla4u: leave me alone
jaz_fury_2018: Why would you use a name like that, Kayla? I thought we were friends.
Kayla fumed. How dare this person use her friends’ accounts to harass her! She promptly blocked both accounts and logged out again.
The app reopened.
jaz_fury_2018: You were never really my friend, were you, Kayla? I died because of you and you ran straight into the arms of the Klan.
kkkayla4u: i did not
Emmajoy03: Let’s ask your dad if he approves of your name.
Another account joined the conversation.
catlkr4242: So you finally got your head screwed on straight. About damn time.
kkkayla4u: ur not my dad, he cant type for shit
catlkr4242: Apparently, neither can you. Did you manage to graduate? I only ask because you blew my brains out in September.
kkkayla4u: my fathers death was a suicide
catlkr4242: Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night, little girl?
kkkayla4u: ur all dead
catlkr4242: Yes, because of you.
kkkayla4u: go away!!!
Emmajoy03: If you had been as smart as I was, you would have figured out another way. Instead, you got us all killed.
“No!” Kayla screamed, startling herself awake. She looked at the laptop. There was no chat box. It had only been a dream. Puzzled, the girl wondered why she would have a username like kkkayla4u. Despite the Millers’ reputation as white supremacists, she had no interest in that stuff. It must have been a creation of her exhausted mind. Sleeping away the rest of the night sounded like a good idea. Perhaps she would feel better in the morning. She turned over on her side and fell asleep.
The laptop hummed as the chat box opened again.
catlkr4242: Night night, little girl. I’m watching you.
The video light came on and a blank, black screen opened up. Had Kayla been awake, she would have seen no one on the other side.
But someone on the other side saw her.