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Ramona's internet was in and out like a bad connection to a radio station. She had taken to bringing her computer downstairs and sitting outside The Grind, because the connection was usually always good there. Once, however, she'd had problems connecting to the internet right next to someone else who was surfing away right next to her. Frustrated, Ramona had asked her friend Nick to look at it. Nick was a computer whiz and was taking IT classes, so he knew all about networks and internet connections and all kinds of other things that were foreign to Ramona. She was worried that her computer was broken. But Nick had spent about an hour with it, and witnessed all the things that were frustrating Ramona. He declared it a problem with the network. "There's a problem with wireless in town," he said. "I run into it all the time. It's the same kind of thing that makes it hard to get the campus radio station on the other side of campus." That was true. Ramona knew that things like radio waves behaved strangely in Elston. "I'm not really sure why it happens," Nick admitted, "but sometimes you just wander into a blind spot. Sometimes the blind spot moves too. Sorry."
But there was nothing wrong with her computer, right? Nick assured her computer was functioning just fine. It was just Elston. He even relayed to her what he thought was an amusing anecdote about trying to set up a wireless network for the public library. They had contacted his class, because they knew the college kids would work for cheaper than a real IT company. But they'd had absolutely no luck, apparently. Nothing worked in or around the library. No wireless. It might actually have been an amusing anecdote, if it weren't for the fact that Nick peppered his narrative with huge technological words that Ramona couldn't understand. Also, all she could think was, "The library again. The vortex."
Anyway, Ramona persevered. She moved her laptop around. She used the computers at work whenever possible. She managed to find several jobs available in Virginia, all at various colleges. That was about the only thing that went easily, however, other than the fact that Heather had found an apartment complex in Richmond that was reasonable and was looking for people to move in ASAP. She and Heather had been able to get rental applications sent off pretty easily. So the apartment front looked bright. But the job front... The job front was frustratingly difficult. She tried to submit applications online, but her computer either lost internet connection or crashed or navigated to the wrong page. Hosts of problems kept happening. Nor was the internet the only problem.
Ramona's printer ran out of ink. The closest place to buy printer ink was in Freeburg. Since Heather was going there five days a week to work at Applebee's, Ramona was able to give Heather money to buy another ink cartridge. But, of course, despite Ramona's very detailed instructions, written down no less, Heather bought the wrong kind of ink cartridge the first time out. By the time she finally got the right kind, Ramona had broken down and printed out the applications at work.
One evening, as Ramona was attempting to fill out applications, all the pens in her apartment seemingly disappeared. She searched high and low for a writing instrument and couldn’t find one. Ramona couldn't believe it. Where had all the pens gone? She finally had been forced to go to Rite Aid to buy one. When she got the pen home, however, it hadn't worked. They'd sold her a pen with no ink. Ramona drove back to Rite Aid and exchanged it for another pen, which she made sure to test before she left the store. Of course, once she got home, she found about five workable pens, all in places she could have sworn she had searched several times.
And then, of course, there was the search for references. One of the jobs wanted two letters of reference. Ramona's first inclination was to ask Maxine for one of them, but that meant, of course, that she had to tell Maxine that she was looking for another job. Ramona was terrified this would make Maxine angry, considering it would mean she'd have to fill Ramona's position. So Ramona put off telling Maxine, and tried to get someone else to write her a letter of reference. She called all of her old college professors, one by one, and none of them answered their phones. The spring semester was over by then, so she guessed it would be hard to get them on the phone. She tried email. She left multiple messages. She tried calling the main office of the college and begging them to give her home phone numbers. Of course, they wouldn't do that. Ramona didn't blame them. She knew the professors wanted their privacy. Finally, by chance, she happened to see one of her professors walking down Main Street in Elston, while she was struggling with the internet connection outside The Grind. Ramona dropped her computer and ran after him.
Out of breath, she explained her situation, and the professor agreed to write her a letter of reference. He gave her a number where she could reach him, and told her to remind him, because he might forget. While this didn't sound particularly promising, Ramona decided to take what she could get.
Now she really had no excuse not to tell Maxine, so one day, she entered Maxine's office and told her she was looking for another job. To her relief, Maxine was incredibly supportive. "It's about time you got out of this town," Maxine said. "You've been hanging around here for far too long." And Maxine produced a glowing letter of reference by the end of the day.
Ramona didn't relish the idea of reminding her professor, but a few days later, she called him. To her surprise, he told her that he'd finished the letter earlier that day and that she could pick it up whenever she wanted. Finally, everything was in place. Ramona could send out her applications and resumes. Of course, she didn't have any stamps, but she'd buy some at the post office when she went to mail them the following day. She showed Heather her envelopes proudly. To Ramona, it felt like she'd just defeated a dragon or reached the end of a quest. She was exhausted, but she didn't know if she'd ever felt prouder of herself for conquering adversity.
Feeling buoyant, Ramona and Heather decided to celebrate. They'd been so focused on trying to get jobs and on being frightened of the monsters in town that they'd spent most of their time in Ramona's apartment. A change of scenery was in order, so the girls got dressed up and went to The Brass Frog. It was a Friday night; the whole town seemed to be out.
Ramona and Heather got drinks, but they couldn't find an empty table anywhere. A month or two ago, if Ramona had been out and looking for a table, she just would have sat down with a group of people she knew, but tonight, it seemed like all the tables had at least one person she didn't want to be close to at them. Zane. Craig. Dawn. Fiona. Heather and Ramona stood outside in the garden instead, clutching their drinks and trying to feel celebratory.
"It will be nice to live in a place that has more than one bar," said Ramona.
Heather laughed. "Yeah."
"In a place like that, if you come into the bar and you see someone you don't like, then you can just leave."
"Absolutely. And go to another bar."
"Yeah."
"We're going to get out of here," said Heather. "You just wait. And it's gonna be awesome. Our lives are actually going to start."
"You didn't feel like your life had started already?" Ramona asked.
"You feel like your life is already started?"
"Well, no. I really don't. But you were married." Ramona instantly realized that she probably shouldn't have brought up the subject of Rick.
Heather was quiet for a minute. "I miss Rick. And I loved him. I really did. More than anything on earth." She took a long swig of her beer. "But we got married too soon." She looked down at her beer. Began picking at the label. "Sometimes love isn't enough, you know?"
Ramona didn't know, but she nodded. She watched Heather demolish the label on her beer. "I thought you guys were happy."
Heather shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah."
Ramona didn't know what to say. She knew she shouldn't have brought the subject up in the first place. Heather was really touchy about it, and for good reason. Suddenly, Heather turned to face Ramona.
"Listen," she said with a large gust of air. "I don't like to think about it."
"I know. I'm sorry I brought it up."
"No, you don't understand. I don't like to think about it, because, even though I'm devastated, there's like this part of me, that when I found out he was gone, was like...relieved." Heather covered her mouth in horror at what she'd just said.
Ramona put her hand on Heather's shoulder. And then it happened. Heather started crying. And Ramona pulled her into her arms, and the two of them stood in the garden of The Brass Frog, with the whole town of Elston chatting around them, and they both sobbed.
They could have gone home after that, because neither of them was entirely in a celebratory mood anymore, but a strange thing happened. People started to approach them. Not a lot of people, but a few. One or two at a time. And all of the people that approached them said things like, "We can't believe Blair is such a bitch. She obviously has it out for you," and, "Sometimes I think something very weird is going in this town." It wasn't much, but it was enough that Ramona and Heather felt comforted. Finally, it was Olivia who approached the two of them. She guided them to the table where she was sitting. Nick was there and so were Tom and Mark, the guys in favor of polar shifts.
"I've been talking to people," she said. "Ever since you told me about Blair locking you in the basement, I've been suspicious. She's just started to seem really weird to me."
"I think Blair killed Angelica," said Nick.
"Okay, Nick," said Olivia. "That's insane. I mean, sure she's a bitch, but a murderer?"
"I don't know," said Nick. "If she's nuts enough to lock Ramona in a basement, who's to say she isn't nuts enough to kill Angelica."
"Well, look," said Tom. "It's obvious that she was lying about being raped by Garrett."
"Yeah," said Olivia. "That was a weird turn of events. One minute she hates Garrett, the next she's making out with him. And, guys, what the heck happened to Owen?"
"I bet Owen's dead too," said Nick. "She probably just hid his body better."
"Blair said Owen left town," said Ramona. "But he left awful quick. He didn't even tell Griff at The Grind that he was going."
"You think she murdered him too, don't you?" asked Nick.
Ramona and Heather just exchanged a look. This was definitely interesting. Usually, Blair controlled the way everyone thought in town. But Ramona liked it. They were using the Elston rumor mill against the girl who used it as her primary weapon. It was awesome.
"It's all fine and good to turn Blair into a demoness," said Mark, "but you guys are acting like white-trash girlfriends, blaming this entire thing on Blair. I mean, Garrett left Ramona too. He's just as much at fault here."
"Garrett's different," said Ramona.
"No fucking kidding," said Olivia. "It's like he's a completely different person. You guys remember when he and Ramona hung out with us that one night, right?"
Tom nodded. Mark said, "He was really quiet."
"Yeah," said Tom. "He's not really quiet anymore, is he?"
The conversation continued for a while, eventually turning to other topics. But before it did, Olivia told Ramona, "Just wait. I'm going to get the entire town on your side. I've been spreading talk like this like a disease. Blair's got it coming."
Ramona appreciated Olivia's support, but she didn't think Olivia knew exactly what she was taking on. "Look," she said to Olivia. "That's really cool of you. But...you should be careful, okay? Blair isn't entirely what she seems."
Olivia laughed. "You do agree with Nick, don't you? God. You guys watch way too many detective TV shows."
Ramona pulled the covers over her head and turned over in bed. She and Heather had been out late the night before, and she wasn't going to get up until her alarm went off. She'd set it for eleven, which would give her an hour to get to the post office and get her applications mailed off. Her bed was so comfortable. She snuggled into her pillow. Idly, she wondered what time it was. She guessed it was probably around eight, because she had a hard time sleeping in much later than the time she normally had to get up for work, no matter how late she went to bed. But she wasn't sure, and she was seized with the burning desire to know if she'd guessed right. Knowing she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if she didn't just look, Ramona pulled the covers off her face and opened one eye to look at her alarm clock.
Eleven forty-five?!
What the hell had happened to her alarm? Ramona threw her covers off and leaped out of bed, almost stepping on Heather, who was sleeping on an air mattress right next to Ramona's bed. Damn it. Ramona grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt and ran into the bathroom to get dressed. She hurriedly pulled her hair into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head. Grabbing her applications and her wallet, she rushed out of the apartment and down the steps to the front door of her building. She opened it into sheets of rain. It was pouring outside.
Fuck!
Ramona charged back up the steps to her apartment and began searching furiously for her umbrella. She overturned clothes, looked behind couches, in cabinets, anywhere she could think of. It was nowhere to be found. Stuffing the letters into her shirt, Ramona grabbed a hooded jacket and threw it over her head.
She darted back down the stairs and into the rain. The sidewalk was slippery and she wasn't wearing shoes with good traction, just a pair of flip-flops. Water sloshed over her feet as she sprinted through the rain.
Ramona was forced to slow down as she headed up the block. If she didn't, she was going to fall down. She walked as fast as she possibly could.
She turned at Duke Street, right by the library, its windows glowing yellow light in the rain, looking so welcoming, and began walking the two blocks to the post office.
At the end of the first block, she had to wait for several cars to pass on the street. They splashed dirty water onto her pants.
Ramona was nearly soaked through when she arrived at the post office. She pulled open the door and braced herself as the frigid air conditioning bit into her wet skin.
She was too late. The door to the office was closed. Locked. She wasn't wearing a watch, but she didn't think it could be that much past twelve. Ramona pounded on the door to the office. Nothing happened.
Fucking postal workers. Couldn't cut a girl a break, could they? Ramona surveyed the open part of the post office, numbered boxes lining its walls.
And then, she saw the stamp machine!
Aha! Success! They actually had an automated machine that sold stamps. She could put money in it and it would give her stamps. And she could mail out her applications after all.
Ramona dug her wallet out of her pocket and opened it up. She didn't have any cash. She'd planned to purchase her stamps with her debit card, which she had. Of course, the machine didn't take debit cards.
Ramona dug all the change she had out of her change compartment. Twelve cents. Seven cents of it in pennies. Damn it all to hell.
There was an ATM two blocks down at the bank, but it only gave twenties. The machine took twenties, but it would probably give her change in quarters.
She could walk another block to the convenience store and get five dollars cash back. Or she could just wait until Monday to send her letters.
Ramona looked out at the blinding sheets of rain. Either way, she was just going to get wetter. She squared her shoulders and went back out into the rain.
On the way to the convenience store, she had to walk through a puddle the size of Lake Eerie. At this point, her pants were soaked up her knees. Her hair was falling in wet strands into her eyes. The only place that did seem to be somewhat dry was the place in her shirt where her letters were. Ramona was thankful for that at least.
At the convenience store, she had to wait in a line for what seemed like five hours. The guy ahead of her bought at least forty-five lottery tickets. Finally, she got to the register and bought a pack of cigarettes. She got her five dollars cash back, and stepped out into the rain once more.
She dragged herself back to the post office, shivering the entire way. The rain was cold rain and there was heavy wind that was kicking up, blowing right in Ramona's face. The rain was now raining sideways, hitting right at the place in which her letters were stored her shirt. Ramona tried to adjust them so that they were under her armpit.
She struggled against the gusts of wind, which were so strong, they threatened to knock her over. Her teeth chattered.
When she got back to the post office, she took the letters out of her shirt. They were a little damp, but none of the writing seemed to have smeared. Ramona bought her stamps, affixed them on her letters, and dropped the letters into the appropriate mail slot.
Then she walked back to the door, prepared to trudge back through the rain to her apartment. To her astonishment, the rainstorm had passed. Outside, it was bright and sunny. As she swung open the door to the post office, she heard a cacophony of birds chirping their heads off. To Ramona, it sounded as if they were taunting her.
Heather was ushering the last of the patrons at the bar out of Applebee's. She and the bartender, Regina, were the last people still working. She'd sent everyone else home once they finished their cleanup. Heather was tired, and she didn't relish the twenty-minute drive back to Elston. One thing was for sure. It had been a heck of a lot easier to get home from Applebee's when she lived here in Freeburg with Rick. She wondered what was going on in her house. She hadn't been back, even though she'd left everything she owned there. Luckily, she and Ramona were about the same size, so she'd been borrowing Ramona's clothes. And she had been able to salvage some money from the joint checking account she and Rick had. Plus, she still had a savings account in her name. She was glad she'd never switched that over to a joint savings account. She and Rick had talked about it a couple of times, but she'd never actually done it. It had been a good idea, it seemed.
"You want a drink?" asked Regina.
"No thanks," said Heather. "I'm driving."
She and Regina were friends, not just because they worked together, but also because they shared an interest in the supernatural. Regina was Wiccan. Heather had studied the religion, but ultimately didn't think that it was for her. Still, she respected other people's religious choices, and Regina was pretty cool. So far, she hadn't told Heather about trying to do any spells or anything like that. It wasn't that Heather didn't have an open mind about those kinds of things. She believed in the possibility of magic, but she had to admit, she was pretty skeptical about it. Anyway, Wiccans weren't the kind of religious where they were always and forever trying to recruit people. Heather liked Regina, and she had no problems whatsoever with her religious choice.
"We're both driving," said Regina. "I thought you just lived up on Orchard Ave, anyway?"
"I did," said Heather.
"But not anymore?" asked Regina.
"No," said Heather.
"How come?"
Heather debated. Regina was pretty cool and open minded. She might be able to tell her what actually happened. But she wasn't sure. If she freaked Regina out too badly, it could undermine her authority as manager. "My husband...got really different," she said finally.
"Different? Like he told you he was gay?"
Heather laughed. "No. Like, he started acting like a different person. He, um, tried to strangle me. I left and didn't go back."
"Jesus," breathed Regina. "I don't care what you say, you need a drink." She began concocting something behind the bar that involved multiple bottles. Heather started to protest, but then gave up. She guessed one drink couldn't hurt. She hadn't had anything else to drink that night. She'd probably be fine. "So, where are you staying now?"
"With a friend. In Elston."
"Elston," said Regina. "I hate that place. People think it's so cute and quaint and everything, but it's got a really dark energy. Like if a town had an aura, that place would be black." She handed Heather the drink she'd mixed. It was bright green.
"What's this?" asked Heather.
"Try it," said Regina.
Heather took a tentative sip. It was excellent! "That's really good."
"You don't have to sound so surprised. It's the melon liqueur. That's what makes it so tasty."
"Well, it's really good. Thank you."
"Do you like living in Elston?"
"Not really. I'm planning on moving soon."
"And going where?"
"Virginia, I think," said Heather. "It depends on where my friend gets a job. But you're right about Elston. It's...dark there. Like evil."
"You might think I'm crazy," said Regina, "but sometimes I get these sort of...like mental images that sort of superimpose over what I'm actually seeing. Most people don't believe me when I tell them this..."
"No, no," said Heather. "I believe you. I mean, that kind of thing is definitely possible."
"Well, I've seen this kind of stuff ever since I was a little girl. I used to tell my mom about it, and, at first, she thought it was my imagination, but then once I saw an image of my grandmother lying down dead when I saw her. I was upset, and I told my mom. My grandmother died the next day. My mother suddenly didn't think it was my imagination. From then on, anytime I'd mention it, she'd just yell at me. I learned to keep my mouth shut."
"But you have a gift," said Heather. She was pretty sure she believed Regina. Pretty sure.
"Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. It's not always bad stuff, like death. Sometimes it's good. Like love or children or money. But a lot of times, it's bad. I used to try to tell people when I saw something. I guess I thought maybe they could change things if they knew. But people never thanked me for it and nothing ever changed. So, I usually don't say anything about it at all. But I like you, Heather. You seem to be pretty open to the universe."
"Thanks. I try."
"I wouldn't stay in Elston any longer than you had to. Something about that place is just...evil. It's like rotted death. You know the creepiest place in Elston?"
"What?"
"The library. The first time I saw that place, I was driving through Elston with some friends, and I got one of my images. Really clear, crystal clear. And there was sound. I never hear things that aren't there. I just see things. But when I drove past that library, I saw this throng of people, all gathered together in a tiny room, and they were all screaming these really shrill, chilling screams. I still have nightmares about it. Just be careful while you're there, okay, Heather? Be careful."
Ramona was already asleep when Heather got home, so she quietly got ready for bed in the dark, and slipped between the sheets on the air mattress she'd been sleeping on. Ramona had suggested they switch off, each taking the air mattress for a night, but Heather felt guilty. She didn't want to impose on Ramona anymore than she already had. It was enough that she was staying in Ramona's house and wearing her clothes. She didn't have to take Ramona's bed too. But as she settled into the mattress tonight, she realized it was losing air. It wasn't the most comfortable bed. She could get up and put some more air into it, but she was too tired, so she just got as comfortable as she could and tried to let sleep wash over her like a tidal wave.
But as tired as Heather was, she couldn't go to sleep. She kept thinking about things she needed to do at work. She had lists and lists of things she was trying to juggle in her head. She also wanted to research some of the places where Ramona had applied for a job. Look at houses for rent, restaurants where she could work, things like that. There was just too much to do. She half-felt like getting out of bed now and turning on Ramona's computer. But she knew that was probably a lost cause. The internet almost never worked up here anymore. Ramona claimed it had been fine before Heather moved in, and she'd seemed almost accusatory, as if it were Heather's fault or something. She hoped that Ramona didn’t feel put out. The two of them were moving away together. They were going to have to get used to living together. Heather rolled onto her back, adjusting for the lack of support in the mattress. She looked up at the ceiling and then firmly closed her eyes. With sheer force of will, she willed herself to sleep.
She woke up what seemed like minutes later. She was hot and the air mattress had lost even more air. She hoped it didn't have a leak. It probably did. Mattresses didn't just lose air if there wasn't a leak, did they? Heather threw the sheets off and got up. She looked at Ramona's bed, but Ramona wasn't in it. The picture window was open and the curtains were blowing out into the night air.
"Heather," called Ramona's voice. It was coming from the window. Slowly, Heather went to the window. She leaned out into the darkness. Ramona was outside, below the window, wearing her pajamas. She waved. "Come down here."
What was Ramona doing outside? Heather wanted to ask, but it just seemed like too much trouble. She sighed and left the apartment. In a moment, she was standing beside Ramona.
"Why aren't you in bed?" Heather asked Ramona.
Ramona took Heather's hand and began to tug her up the street toward the library. The inside of the library was lit up with white light. The brilliance of the light pouring from its windows seemed to reflect off the sky. Heather squinted and resisted. "I don't want to go there," she said. "It's creepy. Regina said--"
But Ramona wouldn't listen, and no matter how Heather struggled, it seemed that they got closer and closer to the library until it loomed huge and bright in front of them. The front door was wide open, and the oak tree in front of the door seemed engulfed by the white light. Its branches mirrored the brilliance, gleaming like polished bones. Inching past the skeletal tree, the girls entered the library.
"I don't want to be here," whispered Heather.
Ramona nodded. "Me either."
Then why, in the name of God, had Ramona dragged her here? It was so bright in the library that it was difficult to see. Heather couldn't see the walls or the bookshelves. She clung to Ramona's hand. She was frightened that she might drown in this white radiance, be sucked out to sea. She turned to Ramona, but she couldn’t see Ramona anymore. She looked down, but she couldn't see her own body.
And then she realized she couldn't feel Ramona's hand anymore. She was alone. Formless, shapeless, soundless. She was part of this blinding light. Heather tried to scream, but she didn't seem to have a mouth. She tried to run, but she didn't have legs. God. Oh God. Why had she followed Ramona to the library? She should be asleep in bed right now. She shouldn't be here. If she even existed anymore. Heather felt like she'd been stripped of her essence, of herself, of her being. She wanted to sob at the loneliness of it, at the coldness of it.
There was a brush wind. It seemed to go right through Heather. And then a whispered voice, not quite male or female. Maybe both. Maybe neither. "Stay," it said. "You have to stay."
Suddenly, the air was full of a raw, agonized keening. It was as if the very world was being ripped apart by the sheer sound of the cries. They cut through Heather's soul. They sliced into Heather's heart. It stopped beating.
And when it started again, she was awake. Really awake this time, sunlight streaming through the window of Ramona's apartment, her heart thumping violently in her chest. She sat straight up in bed and looked around, trying to convince herself that it had all been a dream, just a remnant from her discussion with Regina about the creepy library. Nothing more.
Ramona was sitting up too. They looked at each other.
"It's early," said Ramona. "You should go back to sleep."
"I'm awake," said Heather.
"It's like seven," said Ramona. "When did you get home? Three? Go back to sleep."
Heather slowly lay back down, pulling her sheets around her body. She was shaking. She pulled the sheets tighter, squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't go back to sleep for a very long time.
Copyright (c) 2010 Valerie Chambers