Roxi's Mountain

Boots laced and tied; ignition is turned to where the motor comes to life. Headlamps on, his first stop is across the street from the Cadbury apartments. A cup of coffee close by, pressed between lips is a lit cigarette. Checking his watch, he’s got a handful of minutes left to himself. He thinks about Jane, the good parts anyway. Having another drag, sees Vincent walking across the street towards him. Poking his head out, Benny says, “Morning.” Stopping just short of his longtime friend, Vincent peers at his worn boots and lingering over the cost of new ones, he looks up at Benny and asks, “How are you doing?”

“Smoking a lot if that tells you anything.”

“That’s not good.”

“Yeah, I know.” Flicking the ash away, Benny asks, “You ready?”

“Pretty much.” Looking over his shoulder at the apartment complex he calls home, Vincent walks around the front of the rig which gives Benny time to have one more puff before snubbing out his smoke.

With Vincent seated and locked in, Benny checks the side mirror before pulling away from the curb. The sky is dark, but cloudless. It has been days since it rained and feeling how dry the air is, Benny makes a left on Maple. Keeping the rig moving towards the outskirts of town, up ahead and dark against the deep blue background is Roxi’s mountain. Back when he was twelve, Uncle Red told him not to get caught out there at night. You might never see morning again. He got scared and told mom what Uncle Red said. “Best you listen to good advice,” is all she said. Hanging a right onto Windsor Drive, sees that Vincent has his eyes closed.

Tired himself, what comes to mind is Freddy walking inside his office telling him that the cops were here. Routine questioning had him downtown where a plainclothes detective showed him the surveillance video of Jane shopping on the baking isle when miss Purdy comes into the picture. The two embrace, and after they separate, Jane disappears. In disbelief of what he saw on that monitor, all he got in return was promises being made of sending the video to a special crimes’ unit. Until then, he was free to go. After being shown out, he called Vincent. “This came for you.” With no return address, curiosity got the best of him as he read the letter out loud, “If you want to save Jane, be at the barricade at the end of Cranberry Road at sunrise.” Looking over, Vincent said to him, “I’m going with, and don’t give me any crap.”

After being dropped off, he got into his rig and drove home. What hits the hardest is seeing what is missing from the driveway. Impound is what he was told, and after walking through the empty house, stuck on the refrigerator door is Jane’s grocery list. He stared at it for a good long time before opening the fridge door. Grabbing a beer, found himself out on the back deck until sleep dragged him to bed. Vicious is the dream of Jane inches from his outstretched hand that has her looking into his eyes before she falls into a deep abyss. Just a bad dream is what he tells himself, nothing more. Checking on Vincent, there is a thread of saliva hanging off his lip. “Vincent, wake up. Vincent.”

Groggily Vincent rolls his head upright, “Are we there?”

“Not yet.”

“I need some air. Pull over to the side.”

Doing what Vincent asked, once he has the rig stopped alongside the road, Vincent piles out to where he starts walking back and forth. Stabbing a cigarette between his lips, Benny gets out and after cigarette is lit, Benny leans across the hood. “You alright?”

“I don’t know. Some lady was talking to me, but her voice was muted. She’s gesturing, her wanting me to follow her, and no matter how hard I try, there was like a cold energy holding me back. I can’t shake that icky feeling. Look at my arm hairs standing up. Freaky, man. Worst dream ever.”

“I had a bad one too. I couldn’t reach Jane, and I lost her to the earth swallowing her up.”

Neither talk, Benny puffing away until Vincent says to him, “I’m starting to get the idea someone doesn’t want us around.”

The thought crossed Benny’s mind, “Could be right about that. We should get going.” Vincent climbs inside while Benny thinks one more puff is all he needs but ends up taking two.

Behind the wheel, he looks at Vincent and says, “No turning back now.”

“Let’s get to it,” says Vincent. Shifting the rig into gear, Benny does just that.

Back in town, to his hands he looks. And, like always, she is there, talking to him. Telling him where to look.
Outside of this, O’Malley is calling for cab service and speaking quietly into the headset, one look at Lewis and he knows better to leave him alone. Carrying on in making sure arraignments met, O’Malley follows up with speaking to a staff member employed at the Evergreen Inn. Ending the conversation, he sees that Lewis is still busy looking at something he cannot see. Thinking the man beyond his world, he leaves him be.
Within walking distance of the café, their cab ride to the Inn is short lived. Each checked into separate rooms, both meet up shortly, and then walk over.
Inside the café, there are a few patrons that are either sipping coffee or dragging a fork along. At any rate, the scent of it all has both ordering. During their wait, O’Malley turns to Lewis. “You alright?” He gets it. “Yeah. I’m good. Hungry though.”
Interrupting their flow of words, is plates of steaming food set before each of them. Cooling off his pile of spuds with a douse of ketchup and a heavy sprinkle of pepper, he goes to town on the eggs over easy.
Ticket paid, tip under the coffee cup, the two make their way outdoors.
Rosewood is awake with its passerby’s going about their business. “Where to,” O’Malley asks.
“How about we pay a visit to the Sherriff.” “Hold on.” He waits as O’Malley does his thing. Within minutes, comes their ride.
He is mean looking. Sour in sitting behind that desk. With nothing to bask in, comes his sharp tone. “Heard about you.” There is no love felt in the man’s words. “Good. That saves us from going through formalities.” Gruff and to the point, the sheriff puts his elbows on the desktop. “Folks around here are afraid, and they got good reason to be. What’s worse is now I got weirdoes coming and going. Ghost seekers they call themselves. Paranormal junkies. And now here you are. What’s out there that none of us can see except you?”

Brought up to never to lie, Lewis tells the sheriff, “I just got here, so, I don’t know.” It takes a minute for the sheriff says, “Alright then. Go on now, I got a pile of paperwork to do.”

 

Once out on the street, Lewis says, “I think we should pay miss Purdy a visit.” O’Malley calls for a ride, and within minutes, the two board a cab. “Where to?”

“420 Cranberry Road.”

“Oh. Hold on. I got to call this in.” Phone in hand, fingers start tapping out numbers. “Yeah, I got two wanting me to drive them out to miss Purdy’s.” Eyes dart to the rearview mirror, “I can take you as far as the mailbox. The rest of the way is on you.”

“Why is that?”

“Bossman didn’t say. So, what’s it going to be?”

“Take us there. And this is for your troubles.”

Two crisp bills is all it takes, and once they are beyond the signal lights and all of the four way stops, eventually the cab turns onto Cranberry Road. Of the few houses there are, most, if not all have wood split and stacked close by. Seeing this brings on having a woven blanket wrapped around shoulders while wiping away the fog from the window glass. Of reaching for that book on the shelf before cozying up in that easy chair next to a lit potbellied stove. Casually giving Lewis a glance before looking ahead through the windshield, the cab driver flicks his eyes to the rearview. “Another mile to go.” “Alright. Thanks again for running us out here.” “If it was on me, I’d take you on in.” Eyes unwavering in the rearview mirror, O’Malley sees the rage hidden behind thin walls. “It’s okay. We’ll manage.” After saying this, O’Malley gives Lewis another glance and plain to see is that she’s talking to him. What she is saying is what he wants to know and as the cab begins to slow, looking to where they are at, there is no missing the oversized mailbox stenciled with the numbers, 420.

Rolling to a stop this side of the mailbox, the tab is quietly taken care of. During the transaction, Lewis steps out of the cab. “He’s in a hurry. Are we good?” “Yes sir.” “Have a good day.”

Done watching the cab driver make a three point turn, both turn away and start walking up the driveway lined with ancient trees showing off their massive roots looping out of the dirt like a dragon’s tail. Above them, a bird is circling high above the treetops. “Must be something dead out there.” “Yeah, I was thinking that too.” Further along on their walk, O’Malley checks on the whereabouts of the bird circling overhead only to see that the bird is nowhere in sight. Dining out tonight, to begin the meal, juicy eyeballs are pecked clean from eye sockets that leads to a mouthful of squirming maggots clinging to a hunk of meat that is quickly swallowed. It is just the way nature works and knowing he needs to be grateful, up ahead is a massive log house. “Looks like a resort.” “Let’s go see if anybody is at home.” Up the staircase and walking over to where the two are standing in front of the front door, Lewis knocks.

Answering is a twenty something dressed in jeans, and an oversized sweatshirt, “You made it. I’m Rose. Please, come inside.”

 

 

 

Reviews

[Rebecca hall]

You are such a great and talented writer. Thank you so much for taking the time to write stories and for creating such interesting ones for us. As an artist, I’d love to share some cover art ideas for your upcoming story, and I also have plenty of ideas in mind for the one I’ve already read. If you use any other platform like Discord, please share it with me so we can chat more comfortably there.