Brighter, a supernatural thriller (33 page)

Huh. Heather had never thought of doing that. It worked for computers, and her phone really just was a little computer. Duh. She tried it. It didn't work. She shook her head. "Nope. Nothing."

"Well, try mine," said the man, digging his own phone out of his pocket. He looked down at it. "That's strange," he said. "I don't have any service either. I wonder if there's a tower down."

"Or five," said Heather. "Even if AT&T's tower is down, then we should be able to get service from Sprint's or...Fuck!" She was so angry that she couldn't control herself.

Heather began walking down the street, clutching her phone and staring at the bars. At the end of the block, a measly bar appeared. At the end of the next block, two appeared. Figuring this was the best she was going to get, Heather dialed the number for the landlord in Richmond.

The rings were cut into by static now and then, but the phone was actually dialing. This was good.

Someone answered the phone.

"Hi," said Heather. "I called about a week ago. I was looking into apartments, but I didn't know when my move-in date was going to be. You had several openings at that time you were trying to fill ASAP. Is that still true?"

"Yes, actually it is," said the person on the other end.

"Great. Because I'm looking for a place to move into...today, maybe tomorrow."

"Wow, that is quick. I'm having a really hard time hearing you. Are you on a cell phone or—"

His voice cut off. Heather pulled the phone away from her ear. Goddammit. She'd lost service again. She stalked back up the street. What the fuck was she going to do? If she were Ramona, she'd just go into The Grind and ask to use their phone, but Heather didn't know the people that worked in The Grind, and they didn't know Heather, so she wasn't too keen on asking them for favors.

Instead, feeling irrational, Heather continued past The Grind and headed up the street to the library. Once there, she threw open the door and came face to face with Garrett. Great. This had been a really stupid idea. Hadn't Mason said not to go back to the library? Fuck. She'd come here with some stupid idea of screaming at the spirits to let her make a fucking phone call anyway. Which sure as hell wasn't going to make any difference. Heather backed out of the library, hoping Garrett wouldn't follow.

He did.

Fuck.

"Ramona tells me you're leaving town," said Garrett.

"Would be," said Heather, "but the stupid vortex is blocking my cell phone calls so I can't call landlords."

Garrett raised his eyebrows. He looked down one side of the street and then the other. "Let me see your phone," he said.

Heather shook her head. "No."

"Look," said Garrett, "the only thing I want from you guys is for you to leave. I know Blair's out to get you, but I think things are getting a little weird. I mean, Owen, Cecelia, and Fiona all disappearing in a matter of weeks? It looks weird. We don't need to add to the confusion with the two of you. Now let me see your phone, I think I can block the interference."

Heather chewed on her lip in consideration and then handed it over.

Garrett looked at it for a couple of seconds. "Yeah," he said. "You've got service. Just stay close to me while you make the call."

"I don't trust you," Heather muttered.

"I don't trust you either," said Garrett. "Just do it, and do it fast before someone sees and wants to know what I was doing helping you."

Heather took the phone back and dialed again. The connection was crisp, clear, and clean. Garrett did know what he was doing, she guessed.

"Hi," she said. "I just called a minute ago."

"You're the chick looking for a place today or tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"We have two three bedrooms and a two bedroom. And any of them could be moved into tonight, but none of them are really, really clean. They'd need vacuuming and dusting and stuff. If you're keen on moving in though, we'll just cut you a break on the security deposit, and you can use the money to clean the apartment."

"That's fine," said Heather.

"Okay, I talked to you before, and I have your rental application, right?"

"Right."

"Good. What's the last name?"

* * *

With a place to live lined up, Heather returned to the apartment. She began to continue to pack up some of Ramona's things. Ramona had gotten some boxes from one of the restaurants in town and also picked up some old newspapers. Heather sat down on the floor in the kitchen area and wrapped dishes, placing them carefully in each box. The floor got kind of uncomfortable pretty quick, so Heather relocated to the couch, hauling the dishes over there to wrap. But as it turned out, the couch was a little too comfortable, and Heather, sleep deprived and exhausted from her emotional ordeal over phone service, fell asleep on the couch.

Immediately, she was plunged into a world of brilliant white light. She felt the sensation of losing her limbs and body again, but someone reached out and grabbed her hands. She felt herself solidify again. And the person who had taken her hands took shape as well. It was Rick. They floated together, hand in hand. Heather looked at him. He looked the way he had when she'd first met him. His hair was longer, almost to his shoulders, and he was dressed in baggy shorts and an old Rolling Stones T-shirt. Suddenly, Heather was struck by how different Rick had become since their marriage. The pressures of having a job and "providing" seemed to have destroyed parts of why she'd fallen in love with him. But this Rick—this Rick was the Rick that she'd met for the first time. This was the Rick that had drawn her into a heady, whirlwind romance. She guessed she'd always known that this Rick was lurking somewhere inside the well-groomed guy that complained when she didn't wash the dishes. It had just gotten harder and harder to remember that he was there.

"Hi," she whispered. "I miss you."

Rick pulled her closer to him. Their bodies touched. His arms went around her waist. "Hi," he said back.

That was enough for Heather at the moment. She was with Rick again. He was holding her. She didn't think she wanted anything else on earth. She wanted to stay like this forever. She sighed happily. "I don't want to leave you," she said.

"I can't leave," said Rick. "I'm stuck here."

"You're gone," Heather murmured.

"No," said Rick, more forcefully this time. He pulled back a little. "I'm not gone. I'm stuck in Elston. For the rest of time. Until the universe collapses. And it's crowded in here."

"Crowded?" They were the only ones here. But then Heather looked around the two of them, and there were bodies everywhere, smashed into each other, smashed into the two of them. It was suffocating and sweaty. Heather struggled. She felt the way she had once when she'd accidentally got caught in a mosh pit before she really understood what being in a mosh pit was really like. She'd had to elbow her way out, and she'd felt as if her rib cage was going to snap at any second.

"Sure you don't want to leave?" Rick asked.

"I want us both to leave," said Heather. "I want to be with you again."

"Can't happen," said Rick. "I'm dead."

Heather tried to fight against the press of all the bodies, but it was no use. She wasn't strong enough. "Rick, help me."

"No," he said. "Heather, you need to help me."

"I can't," she said. "I'm not strong enough. I can't fight them off."

"Get me out of here," he said.

"What?"

"You can get me out of here," he said. "All you have to do is perform that ritual. Set us free."

The rest of the bodies took up the refrain. "Set us free," they intoned like Gregorian monks. "Set us free."

"Rick, if I try to do that, the monsters are going to kill me too. Wouldn't you rather that I was alive instead of being stuck here, helpless like you?"

"So that's it?" he asked, pleading in his eyes. "'Till death do us part.' I'm dead, so you aren't going to help me? I know things were rocky at the end. I know that we didn't part on the best of terms, Heather, but I love you. I still love you. Don't you still love me?"

"Rick, I... I don't want to die."

"I didn't want to die either. Please help me, Heather. Please help me."

Heather woke up sobbing. Ramona was leaning over her. Heather couldn't stop the flood of tears. Even though Ramona was asking over and over, "What's wrong?", Heather couldn't speak, she could only cry. The image of Rick's pleading eyes was burned into her brain. She couldn't stop seeing it. She couldn't stop feeling guilty.

"Heather," said Ramona. "What is wrong?"

Heather sat up straight on the couch, wiping at her tears and trying to get control of her shaking body. After what seemed like hours, she finally managed to steady her breathing and stop crying. She had the hiccups. "I had a dream," she said.

"Oh, great," said Ramona. "Another one of those weird bright dreams?"

"Yeah," said Heather. "Another dream about Rick."

"Oh," said Ramona in a different voice.

"God, Ramona, he was stuck in this place, crammed against all these other bodies. They were pressing on us. We couldn't breathe, and he was begging me to help him."

"Gosh, Heather, I'm sorry," said Ramona. "That must have been awful."

"Yeah," said Heather. "It was."

They were quiet for a few minutes, then Heather started wrapping glasses in newspaper again. "We've got an apartment," she told Ramona. "I said I didn't know what time we'd get there, so they're leaving the key in an envelope in the mailbox. They want us to come in Monday morning and settle up money wise. The apartment isn't going to be clean, but they're going to cut the security deposit in half, since they won't have time to get it ready for us."

Ramona hesitated. "That's great," she said, "but don't you want to say anything else about that dream?"

"No," bit out Heather. "I want to forget about it." She didn't know if she could, but she sure as heck was going to try. The images might plague her for months, years, but that didn't matter. After a while, she'd be able to convince herself it had just been a dream, something she imagined. Once she left Elston, she could pretend that all of this crazy stuff had been a figment of her imagination. That there were no monsters, no vortex, no trapped souls. It would just take some time, but after a while, after a while, it wouldn’t bother her nearly as much as it did now.

"Okay," said Ramona. She looked around the apartment. "We're almost packed."

They really were. Heather could hardly believe it. She'd never moved out of a place so quickly, but the two of them really had boxed up their entire lives in the span of a day. It was an accomplishment. It was a testament to just how badly both of them wanted out.

"I think I'm going to start loading up the cars," said Ramona.

"Okay," said Heather. "I'll help you as soon as I finish with the dishes."

The two worked for another several hours. Heather finished packing the dishes and then helped Ramona carry boxes to their cars. They had some issues fitting everything in, but after making the concession that they'd just have to rely on their side mirrors more than they ever had in their lives and filling every single space in each of their cars, they finally had packed everything.

The two were exhausted. Ramona went out on the porch to smoke a cigarette and Heather went with her, even though she didn't really like it when Ramona smoked. They sat on the balcony, looking down on the courtyard behind The Holy Grind. They didn't talk. Ramona finished one cigarette and lit another one.

"Um, Heather," said Ramona.

"What?" said Heather.

"I've been thinking about your dream. I had a dream kind of like that when I was trapped in the basement. I saw all those people too. There were so many of them. And they really are all stuck there, being used as battery power for the monsters. It's well...it's evil that the monsters have done that to them."

"It
is
evil. And that's what the monsters want to do to us. You do understand that, don't you? They want to put us there too. And they could, I think. We've been lucky, but they are far more powerful than anything we could even imagine."

"Yeah. They are. But I mean, I don't know if I'm going to be able to deal with my conscience if I leave all those people—Angelica, Garrett, Rick, Olivia—stuck there in that vortex like that. Not when I could have done something to help them, you know?"

"You'll be fine. Sure, at first, it will be tough, but after some time has passed, you won't think about it as much. And we'll be alive, Ramona. Alive. I don't want to die. I don't want..." Heather trailed off. She wished Ramona hadn't given voice to the very same plaguing thoughts she was having. And Rick was her husband. She loved Rick. How could she leave his spirit there? How could she? "Listen," she said. "We don't even know if that ritual would work."

"Mason said it would work."

"Yeah, but he also didn't have any idea how to stop them in the first place. He's only hoping it will work. Mason's suicidal. He can't possibly be thinking clearly."

"I think we should do it," said Ramona. "What will it hurt if we just stay until midnight tonight?"

"What will it hurt? It will get us killed! Killed. Dead. The end. Over. Do you want that?"

"No." Ramona took a long drag on her cigarette. "But I don't want to live the rest of my life knowing that I could have helped this town, and I didn't because I was too worried about saving my own skin."

"Give me a cigarette," said Heather.

Ramona looked shocked.

"Just give me one."

Ramona handed Heather a cigarette and the lighter.

Heather lit the cigarette. She took a drag. She coughed and coughed. "These are disgusting," she said.

"It was your idea to smoke one," said Ramona.

Heather fought the guilt inside her. She pushed it down with all her might, squished it into a tiny corner of herself and told herself that she wasn't going to put her life in danger. "I just want out of Elston," she said. "That's all I want. I don't want to be here anymore. And we've got to get out. This town has been the same for centuries. Do you really think that the two of us can actually change anything?"