A Gray Life: a novel (7 page)

Her story was longer than I had
expected. My legs were prickling with the beginnings of numbness, forcing me to sit down again.

“When we left the store, He was parked down the street, waiting for us. As we walked past, He told us to get against the wall. Michael refused and He threw me against the wall. That’s when Michael got
tasered for trying to help me. Both of us ended up in the back of His car for public drunkenness and assaulting an officer.

“We were still kind of drunk, but the situation had sobered us enough that we were able to notice He wasn’t driving near a police station. By the time we realized the trouble we were really in, He had locked us in the spare room of the basement.”

When she finished, I asked her another question on my mind.

“Why can’t you and Michael get back together?”

During her story, she had continued staring at no one corner in particular. However, at my question, her head came around sharply.

“Nothing you did before matters.” I told her before she could answer. “You both should know that.”

From the way he shifted on his pallet, I could tell Michael overheard at least part of our conversation.

* * * *

T
he basement was the man’s true home. There was a large desk in the shape of a semi-circle. It held five computers, and other pieces of technological equipment Ashley had no name for. Beyond the stairs was a second room. The door was open: she peeked in to see a fully furnished bedroom. She bumped into a doorknob behind her.

“That’s to the bathroom.” Richie Rich said. “Now,” he settled in a chair
in front of his computers, “before I start, I have to know how old.”

“I’m--,
”

Juniper cut Ashley off. “Sixteen.”

Richie didn’t give his opinion on the answer. He click-clacked away on his computer.

About a minute later, he waved Ashley to come closer. “I need to get a headshot.”

It sounded like he wanted to hurt her. She didn't move forward, she only shook her head no.

"They'll be no shots fired. Can I leave, please?" The door was far away, but not if she ran.

Juniper and Richie laughed.

"No, not shots like from a gun, silly girl." Juniper said. "Shots like for a photograph."

Ashley face flushed red. The two adults were smiling at her, not mockingly, but she still felt dumb for confusing photography with guns. Too much violence witnessed had kept her mind focused on the subject.

Richie pointed for her to stand in front of a small camera on his desk.

“Smile.”

Ashley did not smile.

Richie snapped the photograph anyway. He gestured to indicate they were done for the moment.

As Ashley was walking over to where Juniper stood, he asked for her name. Getting help from strangers went against her tiny gut feelings.

"Can't you just make one up?"

Richie tilted his head. "I can, but you might forget it and mess things up for yourself."

She decided to let go and follow directions without question. The two strangers were helping her without asking questions, and so far they didn't want anything in return. Ashley hoped later they weren't expecting something she couldn't give.

“Ashley Delia Heard.”

“Thanks, Ashley.” Click, clack. Clickety, click, click, clack.

Juniper and Ashley stood near the stairs for five minutes before Richie remembered they were there. “You two can sit over there.” He nodded at the couch across the room. “This is gonna take a bit to print out.”

When they were settled on the couch, Ashley took the time to ask some questions. “Who is this guy?”

Juniper
chuckled. “I was waiting for that. You must’ve figured out he’s not my pimp.”

Ashley
coughed. She hoped the noise would deter Juniper from noticing the red creeping into her cheeks.

“No, it’s okay
. I know what I am, but I wasn’t always.” She said the words lightly, as though she were referring to a medical condition and not her career choice. “I met Christopher in college. He’s my only friend these days.”

“College?
” Ashley was shocked. “Did you graduate?”

“Uh-huh.”

For the space of two breaths, Ashley couldn’t think of what to ask. Then, “What…did you study?”

“Theology.”

Ashley had heard of the word, but she could have been confusing the meaning with anthropology. “What is that?”

“It’s the study of religion.”

“Were you gonna be a nun?”

Juniper thought that funnier than anything.
“Maybe. I’m not sure what I thought I could do with my degree. Most of my life, I’ve been lost.” She looked at Ashley hard, and she was afraid she had done something wrong. “I’m still lost, but at least I get my bills paid.”

“All done!”
Christopher announced.

Ashley
was glad for the interruption from the very adult conversation. Her new friend was talking about life as if she understood it, and Ashley did not understand. She didn’t understand why her grandparents hired help had murdered them. She didn’t understand why a group of men had come into her house, killing her father and abducting his girlfriend. She didn’t understand why she kept meeting mean, ugly people, and she didn’t know how Juniper (a non-ugly, non-mean person) fit into it all.

Ashley
got up and walked to Christopher’s workstation. From underneath his desk, he pulled out a tray of new leather wallets.

“Pick one.”

She grabbed the pink zebra one.

“Hey! That’s my favorite one.” A smile sh
owed off Christopher’s dimples.

Ashley could imagine what sort
of a friend he was to Juniper.

He handed her a set of papers and a warm rectangular piece of plastic. It was a driver’s license, freshly printed. Her birthday was off by four years, but if the plastic card said she was sixteen, then she
was sixteen.

“You can check in with that
ID without a parent.” Juniper told her. “But you’ll still need a parent to call in and confirm. That I can do.”

“My mom died when I was born.”

“They won’t know that.” Juniper said.

Ashley blinked. Christopher looked uncomfortable. He mumbled words resembling “I’m sorry”, while Juniper stood waiting for a reply. Another roar in Ashley’s ears came and went, and then Juniper’s face changed, like someone had just whispered an answer to her.

“Nevermind.”

Ashley crossed her arms over her middle. She wanted to cry, just to cry, but she didn’t want the strangers to see it.
The embarrassment of nearly crying made her want to cry all the more.

“I’ll do it.” Christopher said.

She choked down her tears. Slowly, she nodded.

****

September 10
th

It happened in the middle of my dream.

Mom and Dad were bickering over the fuel economy of SUV’s versus sedans. Even though sedans were less of a gas guzzler, my dad pushed for an SUV. The back and forth between them comforted me. My parents were with me, and I was safe.

In the
end, Dad convinced Mom to test-drive his car of choice. We all piled in and strapped our seat belts on. The window pane beside me was clear, shiny, and new. A single hairline scratch stood out among the perfection. With a life of its own, the scratch branched out, spreading and creating a noise as it went. Soon, the once perfect pane of glass was a cracked mess waiting to give way.

Mom
saw the damage and screamed. Her lungs were powerful, and I could’ve sworn her scream is what shattered the glass.

I woke up. G
lass had broken outside of my dream world, but I wasn’t sure where. Darkness held the basement. A month ago the street lights had stopped working, and The Man had hooked up a generator to his house/prison. The switch for the basement lamp was on the ten feet from me, an ocean of space in the dark.

I
squinted my eyes and forced my eyes to adjust. Through a gray haze, I could see the small window was completely open. The smell of fresh air was pouring in, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to get out, get more air, free air. My mind wasn’t moving forward. If anything, I assumed someone had escaped from the basement, and I was happy for them. It never occurred to me something could have come inside.

I was the only one awake.
My sister was on her side, curled up and comfortable in sleep. Next to her lay Michael, light snores curling his lip. I couldn’t see Louise, but I knew her bed-space was close to ours.
Maybe she’s the one who got out
, a voice told me.

In her condition, I doubted it.

I noticed movement at the open window. There was a shadow hovering, covering up what little light the moon had created. The shadow rolled in and dropped down to the concrete floor. I could feel a charged energy in the air. Everything was crackling and grating.

The shadow unfurled
itself. At first, it appeared to be human. When it shifted its weight, reptilian skin glittered in the moonlight. Two red eyes floated in the monster’s face, complemented by a zipper-mouth full of razors.

“Erin.” I tried to shake her awake, but she could sleep through her own death, as my mom used to say. The thought chilled me, and I didn’t want Erin to sleep through my death or hers, so I shook her harder.

“What do you want?”

Her question woke up the others. Hardly anyone could see
It in the dark, but a few could. Their gasps and whimpers told me they could see It.

The monster charged at the sickly Wasters that had no chance. Weak as they were, they had strength in them to scream
. It shred one Waster with bear-like claws, grabbing for a second victim. The second Waster flailed helplessly as the monster lowered the zipper-mouth to eat her alive.

Erin cried out
, taking Its attention away from its meal. She was of no interest to It; I was the smaller, tastier choice. It dropped the dying Waster, and leapt for me instead. As it’s barely visible but very ugly face came nearer to me, I thought,
This is it. I get to see my mom and dad again. I’m tired. I’m ready.
When It was inches from me, It collapsed like a deflated sack. It was a dark ozzing mess on the concrete. Though I was relieved, I was a bit disappointed. I wanted my life, but I didn’t want the life I had.

The Man
stood in the middle of the stairs, shotgun still smoking. “Thanks” rose to my lips and died there. What did I care if He had saved me, anyway? My oppressor was not my friend, and he had not saved me from much.

He
made his way to the downed-demon. To see if it was dead, He gave it a few curious kicks.

When The Man was satisfied, He gave us another speech.

“It’s time you knew. The world Outside is no longer safe. There are things in the dark. Things you couldn’t even imagine as a small child. Stay down here and you’ll live. Leave, and you get to meet this guy’s extended family.”

Another kick, and then He dragged its body up the stairs by one of
Its hind legs. We all sat back after His speech and agreed with it. Basically, we all said His kidnappings were akin to a divine form of intervention, and really, a saving grace. The added rape, torture, and occasional murder were nothing compared to what awaited us on the Outside.

In the end, we agreed with Him not because he was right, but because of the uniform he still wore day in and d
ay out. His clothes and badge were a symbol of safety and authority that were hard to turn away from. Though He was a monster, He was our monster, and we were compelled to listen to that authority.

For all we kne
w, He could have been a serial killer who bludgeoned a real cop to death, stealing his uniform and patrol car. Although, the truth was much scarier: He was a cop who lusted for violence, one that loved to kidnap unwilling participants to assuage His masochistic cravings. A man who was meant to serve and protect preferred to maim and kill His citizens.

Yet, He
assured us, we’re safer with Him.

* * * *

September 12
th

After the demon break in, The Man boarded up the basement window. We all
knew boards nor glass would hold back any demons of the like that we saw. It was a relief when we heard the Man outside a few days later, soldering steel bars onto the window.

* * * *