As we approach Orviston, Brent must be channeling Brase’s spirit. He has us on a speedy march that his brother would appreciate. Zombie Brent hasn’t resurfaced yet, nor has he succumb to another outburst, so we’re making progress on that front, too. Even his Reverend persona has been mild and tolerable.
As for the car… It’s bad; really bad. Dean is furious, insisting the mechanic is misdiagnosing the vehicle. “This guy has no idea what he’s doing,” he told us. “I swear to God I saw him ALMOST pour oil into the washer fluid reserve.”
“Should we change mechanics? Have it towed to someone else,” Brooke asked.“I tried. No one will even LOOK at it for a few days – and I mean, that’s pushing it out to like a 20 mile radius. Makes me want to tear out my hair.”
Whether Dean was overreacting or not, that wasn’t the worst of his news, not by a longshot.
“There’s a problem, though,” Dean’s voice changed, losing it’s irritated edge. Now he sounded genuinely worried, “And, uh, credit the guy on this one. He showed me so I saw for myself.”
“Tell us.”
Dean sighed.”This – whatever it is that’s wrong – it isn’t a mechanical issue. Well, I mean, it is, but it didn’t happen naturally. This isn’t wear and tear.”
“An animal? Did Brent hit something?”
Dean was silent a moment. “It doesn’t look like it,” he said finally. “The mechanic used the word ‘tampering’ and… well, honestly, I can’t disagree.”
“What???” Brent interjected. “Why would anyone mess with my car?”
“I can’t answer that one, buddy. Small town like this, maybe some kid didn’t have anything better to do?”
“A kid who knows his way around an engine?” A distant voice offered from Dean’s end.
“Oops,” Dean said, “let me just finish this outside… ok, here we are.” He chuckled. “That was the mechanic offering unsolicited wisdom. Maybe I should keep my big mouth shut for a while, huh?”
“You’re sure it couldn’t have been an animal?” Brooke asked. “SOMETHING else?”
“The ghost of Punxatawney Phil out for revenge?” Dean considered. “Unfortunately not.” His tone hardened, “Trust me, animals didn’t do this. It’s too precise; too deliberate.”
Silence on both ends of the line. There was a question we all desperately wanted to ask, but were terrified of the potential answer.
“Can it be fixed at all?” Cal finally blurted.
“Yes…” Dean said slowly, “but not today. No chance.”
A collective wince. “Sorry,” Dean added, “whoever it was did a hell of a job.”
“Hell of a job!” that mechanic’s voice echoed.
“What the heck?” Dean said, his voice dimming. “Why are you out here and not inside fixing the car?”
“Needed a smoke, MY LORD. That ok with you? I Already don’t know what I’m doing. Imagine how much worse it’ll be with my hands shaking. I mean, I can go back in--”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“It’s fine,” Dean cut him off. “Have your cigarette. I told you, I’m going to drown you in jewels if you get that thing done fast enough, so don’t act like this is forced labor.”
“Yeah, yeah. Want one?”
Dean returned to the phone. “Sorry about that. That’s all I know right now. I’ll keep you updated, though, all right?”
“All right,” Brooke said. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
~~~
Dean is stuck there, waiting for the car, and we’re stuck hiking to Orviston. Odd thing for me to say, I know, considering the genesis of this whole trip.
We could go back, but we won’t. We’re locked into this now : Orviston or bust. At the very least, we should be able to figure out the Warlock’s real name. That’ll be something, I guess.
We visited a few other boroughs and one-stop-light nothings, but they’re more of the same. No one’s seen Brase or can tell us anything we haven’t already heard a dozen times. It’s just the same ghost stories about the Warlock. I swear this guy has better promotion in this part of the state than a Hollywood film star. He must have an amazing agent. During our interrogations, sometimes we slip up and call him “The Melted Man;” sometimes we stick with the customary, “Warlock,” but people always know who we’re talking about. With name recognition like that, the guy should run for office.
~~~
Only a few miles to go. If anything, the bad news about the car has redoubled our resolve. Or maybe it’s redoubled BRENT’S resolve and the rest of us are trying our damnedest to keep up. I don’t know what’s going on inside his head right now, but his zombie incarnation may be well and truly gone. No zombie has ever moved this fast.
We haven’t talked much about it, the car; I don’t think we want to. Maybe it’s like Dean said, just some bored kids. It’s probably best to let ourselves believe that.
The fatigue, the anxiety, they’re really screwing with my head. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a truly restful night of sleep. Cal mentioned hearing something weird out in the forest. “Like a car backfiring.” Ever since he mentioned it, I’m hearing it, too, all over the place. Behind us, in the trees, down in the water. Yeah, I’d imagine a vehicle trying to rumble along the bottom of the river might backfire occasionally. I realize it’s just my imagination and I wish I wasn’t so damn suggestible.
I hope Brase is safe.
~~~
Brooke made me promise that after Brase is home and I get back from Providence, I’m going to take her on vacation. “Somewhere nice for Christmas break.”
Yeah, she’s really twisting my arm here. Gosh, if I MUST.
“Somewhere without trees, please. Or warlocks. A nice, barren desert.”
“How about the North Pole? It’s basically a desert covered in snow, right? Maybe we can help out the international gift-giver with last minute preparations.”
“He flies around the world on a sleigh in one night, Prov. He’s DEFINITELY a warlock. And still too many trees. I like polar bears, though.”
“Fair enough. I’ll add it to the folder.”
“The what?”
“Uh… I mean… polar bears can be warlocks, too, can’t they?”
“I suppose. So that would make them… Po-locks… oh, God, no, erase that, erase it! I didn’t mean--”
~~~
I really like Brooke. I realize hearing me (well, seeing me) say that is probably getting pretty obnoxious at this point. But I do – a lot. And, yes, I haven’t even known her that long but--
ACK.
Hahaha. Hahah.
You weren’t actually supposed to HEAR that because you weren’t supposed to be standing behind that tree.
Hahahah. Oops.
~~~
So,we’re just about to Orviston. Right around the bend up there; yesiree. Sorry, I gotta slow down for a minute here. Haha, yes, you got me; the old man bladder strikes again. I’ll catch up. Just a decrepit gentleman back here needing... to… take… a…
And we’re back.
I just needed to establish a sufficient buffer there. Don’t want any more accidents. Being overheard by the others is a minor inconvenience when using voice-to-text, but as it turns out…
I SWEAR I wasn’t planning that. But it WORKED, it accidentally WORKED. I was telling YOU about my feelings for Brooke and then, POOF, she was right there, behind a tree, hearing all of it. I was mortified for all of three seconds, until she responded.
Obviously it’s all been mentioned; we’ve talked about our mutual interest, but nothing serious. To dust off my old maxim : no expectations and all that.
At first it was flirting, and then the incident with the tent, and so on. Obviously the last few days we’ve had more important things to worry about. But I guess with Brent more or less acting like Brent again and me inadvertently bringing it up, it all just kind of, I don’t know, wriggled loose.
It wasn’t a long conversation, only a handful of sentences, really. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. Sometimes, you only need three words.
I feel guilty, yes. Brase missing, Brent hurting, all of the chaos swirling around us like mud in a blender, but…
My God, hearing that, and saying it back, means so much… I REALLY needed that sunshine. And it is a LOT of sunshine.
I’m staying focused, though. We made that pledge, too. That’s the future – a potentially wonderful future – but we’re not going to let it distract us in this moment. Finding Brase, his safety, is what’s in front of us and what’s important NOW.
But when this is all behind us, God, you have no i--
What the hell? Hey, what is he doing?
Hey! Brent?
BRENT!