Brighter, a supernatural thriller (18 page)

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The night in your car. When I was afraid of the stars. You said—"

"I don't remember what I said that night," Mason cut her off. "I was pretty fucked up. I told you that, remember?"

"I remember you telling me that," Ramona admitted. "I just don’t know if I believe you anymore."

"Just stop it. You are getting in over your head. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to protect you."

Owen had said that Mason was different, and that it was because of her. What could she possibly have done to make Mason different? And as she put together the pieces of conversation that she'd heard that night with the things Mason had told her before, it all became clear. Garrett was right. Mason
was
one of them. He knew what was going on. He was part of what was going on. "You kill them, don't you?" said Ramona. "And then you somehow look like them. Like pod people or something. You really did kill Mason. The real Mason."

"None of this is important. Listen to me. You do not need to worry about what it is we do. Stop being interested. Back off. Pretend you never saw anything or heard anything."

"You said we. It's true. You're one of them." Ramona covered her mouth in horror. Her friend Mason was a killer. He killed people.

"No," said Mason. "Listen to yourself. You're talking about pod people."

"So then what's going on?"

"Nothing," said Mason, "is going on. Okay? Please stop trying to dig for it."

"You're saying I'm crazy now?" Ramona was angry. A minute ago, he'd all but admitted she was right. Now he was acting like he hadn't said anything of the kind. She suddenly wanted to cry. "First you say you're concerned about me and that you're trying to protect me. And then you call me crazy. I don't know what I think of you anymore."

"Don't think of me," said Mason. "Don’t think about any of us. Please. Forget about it."

* * *

Garrett fitted his keys into the ignition of his car, trembling with anger and fear. He'd done it again, and he'd done it to Ramona. God, he was insane to think he could ever have a girlfriend. He couldn't be around other people at all. It was all the fucking same thing, all the time. No matter how far he ran, he could never run away from himself. There was something inside him. Something that snapped sometimes. Something he couldn't control. That look in Ramona's eyes... God. It was just that he knew how to do things the right way. He knew, and other people didn't. And it just frustrated him that people could be so ridiculously retarded. He had no patience with other people. They were so stupid. And when he knew what they should be doing, and they wouldn't listen...

This incident was really stupid. Just a silly little spat. But Garrett knew it started small. And then, she'd seem more and more imperfect to him. Everything she did would start to get on his nerves. He'd learn how he could hurt her, manipulate her, break her down. And he'd do it. Because he could. Because if she were strong—if she were worthy of him—she'd stop him. But she wouldn't be strong enough. And...

Maybe he didn't always know better anyway. Maybe he was stupid to think that he was really so much smarter than everybody else. If he were so smart, why was he living with his parents in the town he'd grown up in? Why hadn't he made something better of his life? In a lot of ways, he really just was a fuck-up. He didn't know anything. So he shouldn't have tried to tell Ramona that he knew better than her about—

Wait. That wasn't really true was it? Because this time, he was right. Ramona shouldn't be alone with that Mason guy. Mason was dangerous. He was part of whatever the fuck was going on in Elston. And Garrett, like a dumbass, had left her alone with him. What the fuck was he thinking? Garrett put the keys back in the ignition of his car and gunned it. He pulled out and drove up Main Street. Ramona and Mason were gone. Damn it. Had Mason taken her into Blair's house? God knew what would happen to her inside that house.

He turned onto Pope Street and searched the street for signs of either of them. Nothing. But the lights were on in Blair's house. Garrett turned onto Duchess Street. He parked his car. Blair and Owen were sitting on the porch of their house. Garrett scrambled out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He raced to the porch, advancing on Blair.

Blair stood up as she saw him coming. Garrett felt all the anger that had been boiling up in him rise to the surface. He leapt on Blair. His hands wrapped around her small, white neck. He pushed her into the side of her house. "Where is she?" he growled. "Where's Ramona?"

Owen jumped onto Garrett's back, screaming at him to let go of Blair. But Garrett was fueled by rage now. Righteous rage, and no matter how tightly Owen clung to him, he wouldn't let go of Blair. Blair's face was turning purple, and she was having trouble breathing, but she was smiling at him. Her eyes were dancing. It was driving Garrett mad. He slammed her head against the wood of the house several times, but he couldn't shake the damned grin from her face.

Owen had wrapped his arm around Garrett's throat, and Garrett couldn't breathe either. "Let go of her," Owen yelled in Garrett's ear. "Let go."

"Tell me where Ramona is," Garrett gasped. But the world was going dark around the edges and his mind was going blank except for one pressing thought:
Air
. He let go of Blair. Stumbled backwards, knocking Owen off in the process. Garrett grabbed at the railing of the porch and sucked as much air into his lungs as he could manage.

Blair stretched her neck languorously. She was still smiling. "Hi Garrett," she purred. "So nice of you to visit. Won't you come in?"

Part Three

Chapter Thirteen

When Ramona got back to her apartment after talking to Mason, Garrett wasn't there, but she hadn't exactly expected him to be there. She couldn’t quite shake the way he'd looked at her and the way his words had sounded. He'd sounded so disgusted with her. So angry. She'd never heard Garrett sound like that before. It was probably best if they didn't see each other for a night. They both needed the chance to cool off and think. But her apartment still smelled like the meal he'd cooked for her, and there was no place she could be in the small room without thinking about him. Finally, Ramona couldn't stand it anymore. She called him. It rang and rang, and then went to voicemail. He must still be really pissed if he wasn't picking up the phone. She left a message anyway, just in case he was away from his phone and would have picked up if he'd had it close. "Hey Garrett. It's Ramona. Just calling to check in. See how you are. Um. I'm sorry about tonight." She didn't know if she exactly was sorry, but since she was the first person to call, she needed to apologize, right? "Call me. Bye."

After leaving the message, Ramona tried to watch TV, but she couldn't concentrate. She lay awake late that night, turning the night's events over and over in her head. Why had Garrett been so angry with her? Why hadn't he called her back? She was so obsessed with Garrett that she didn't even think about what Mason had said to her or about what she'd heard in Blair's apartment earlier.

Her phone rang at 7:30 AM the next morning, waking Ramona up. Groggily, she felt around by her bed for the phone. At first, she thought it was her alarm, but by the time she had the phone in her hand, she realized it was a phone call. And she saw it was Garrett calling. Immediately, she was wide-awake.

"Hello?" said Ramona eagerly.

"Hi," said Garrett. "It's early isn't it? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have woken you up. I just got your message."

"It's okay. I'm awake."

"Look, don't worry about it. Last night. I was being an ass. It's not your fault."

"You just seemed really mad."

"Maybe I'm a little jealous of Mason. You seem to be really close to him."

"I've known him a long time."

"Yeah, and I can't compete with that."

"Well, but, I think you're right. About what you said last night. I think he is one of them. So, I don't know if I want to spend any more time with him."

Garrett was quiet for a minute. "Listen, about that."

"About Mason?"

"About...'them.'"

Was Ramona crazy or were there definitely quotation marks around the word them? "Yeah?" she said warily.

"Well, last night, after I left you, I went back to try to find you, but you were gone. So I went to Blair’s and Owen's house. I thought you might be there."

"I wasn't there."

"No, I know that."

"What did they do to you?"

"Nothing, Ramona. They didn't do anything to me. But we talked."

"You and Blair
talked
?" She couldn't believe that. It was ridiculous. Blair hated Garrett.

"Yeah, we did. We had a lot to talk about."

"Like the fact she accused you of being a rapist?"

Garrett sighed. "Well, I actually did have sex with Blair."

What?! "You said you never did." What the hell was going on here?

"I know, and I did that, because I didn't want you to think bad things about me. But that night, we did have sex. And I guess that she was really a lot drunker than I thought she was."

This was not what Garrett had told her before. "What about seeing Blair get killed? What about that?"

"I made that up. It never happened. It was just that you had seen the ghost of Angelica or whatever, and I thought if I'd seen something like that, I could get close to you."

He'd made it up?! What had happened to Garrett since the last time he'd talked to her? "I don't understand," she said.

"I'm sorry, Ramona. I just really wanted to get in your pants."

That couldn't be true, could it? "No way," she said. "You were way more into this whole thing than I ever was. What's going on? Did they put you up to this? Are you still there? If they won't let you leave, I'll come—"

"I'm home, Ramona. Listen, after I talked to Blair, I realized that I have really screwed up her life. And I was acting like a jerk to you too. I was manipulating you, just to have sex with you. And I don't want to do that anymore. I'm really sorry, but I think I'm just bad for you. I think we should take a break."

"What?!" Ramona demanded. "Yesterday, you wanted to move away with me and live together, and now you want to take a break?" She could hardly believe this. Men were all assholes. Every single solitary one of them was just a big huge fucking jerk. She'd thought Garrett was different, but it turned out that he was just the same as all the rest of them. It turned out that—

Garrett was different.

Ramona dropped the phone. Shit.

They got him.

Slowly, Ramona picked the phone back up. "What did you with his body?" she asked the thing on the phone that was pretending to be Garrett.

"Ramona, what are you talking about?"

"Did you bury it somewhere? Did you burn it? What did you do with him?"

"See? This is what I've done to you. I've made you kinda crazy. I think that—"

Ramona hung up the phone.

* * *

"Ramona, do you have any idea what time it is?" Heather said into her phone. She'd worked late at the restaurant the night before and had barely got four hours sleep when her phone had started ringing. She really didn't have the patience or the energy to deal with her crazy best friend right now.

"I know, I know," said Ramona. "I'm sorry."

"Can you call me back in like three hours, please? I worked late last night."

"I...shit, you're right. I don't even know why I'm calling you. You don’t even fucking believe me. No one fucking believes me. Hell, maybe I really am insane. Never mind. I'm sorry, Heather. I'm sorry."

Heather sighed. She sat up in bed. Rick was in the shower getting ready to go to work. "It's okay. I'm awake. What's wrong?"

"You'll just tell me I'm crazy."

Ramona was crying. Heather could hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. "Hey," she said. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing, or you wouldn't be crying. I promise not to tell you you're crazy."

"They, um, they got Garrett."

"What?"

"They killed Garrett."

"Garrett's dead?" What the hell was this place coming to? Less than a year ago, Angelica had been killed. Now someone else was dead? Heather used to think that this was a safe place to live. She was beginning to wonder if that were true. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know," Ramona sobbed.

"Okay, well then how do you know he's dead?"

"It's what they do. They kill people, and they take over their lives."

"What? Who does that?"

"The river hippies. I explained this to you before."

Shit. Ramona had gone off the deep end for real. "Ramona," said Heather. "I need you to come see me."

"Okay," said Ramona. "Okay. When?"

That had been easy. Good. Maybe if she could just get Ramona face to face, she could knock some sense into her. "Um, well, I have to work today. You have to work today. I'm off tomorrow."

"Can't I come now?"

"Ramona, you have to go to work."

"Fuck work."

"I can't take the day off today. No one can cover me, and I really need the money. How about tomorrow?"

"Okay, okay. Tomorrow," said Ramona.

"Cool. After you get off work, then? Just come over. I'll make dinner or something."

"Okay."

"Good."

"You do think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No, sweetie, of course not."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not lying. Maybe I just don't understand exactly what's going on with you."

"Garrett called me this morning."

"I thought you said he was dead."

"Well, it was someone pretending to be Garrett."

Heather took a deep breath. How had Ramona gotten herself so confused and fucked up? Was she taking a lot of drugs or something? Ramona had never really stopped doing drugs. Heather had when she'd gotten married. Rick didn't like drugs. But Ramona had slowed down a lot. At least, Heather thought so. Ramona hadn't talked about doing anything much harder than smoking pot lately. "Why don't you think it was actually Garrett?"