It’s the type of fall day where the world is wide and open. Our car cruises down the narrow highway. Golden leaves flutter past the windows. Beth rides up front with Jackson like always, and I sit in the back with Elliot. Every now and then, Jackson will glance down at his phone and curse. He’s looking at the map of town, but the picture’s not fully loading. We drive deeper into the woods. Jackson slows, making a U-turn.
“You should have made a right back there,” Beth says.
“I know where it is.”
“Where the hell are you taking us?” Elliot asks jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. Everyone’s tense. We all know where we’re going. Elliot tweaks the circuit board on his EMF meter. “Shoot,” he says. His tools bounce on the seat. I hold them in place.
Jackson glances back at us. “It’s not working?”
“Not since our last gig.”
“Won’t even turn on?”
“It turns on. Just…I had it rigged to give false readings, right?”
“Yeah.”
“But the circuit I built came loose again and now I can’t…” Elliot struggles with the wires. He pushes too far, and the tool slips from his hand. “Yeah. It’s done for. Damn it.”
In the distance, smeared black clouds appear on the horizon. I think of the girls that disappeared from the Cypress Street house. I think of the old lady still there. What does she do with her days? How does she stand being in that house all alone?
We turn left, making our way towards the gathering storm. It isn’t long before rain collects on the windshield. Jackson pops some pills as he drives. I exchange a look with Elliot. Beth pretends not to notice.
“How much further?” Jackson asks.
Beth looks at her phone. “Can’t tell. No bars now.”
“Me neither,” Jackson says.
“I’ve got one bar,” I say.
“Try calling, would you?” Jackson says.
“Here’s the number.” Beth hands me the digits on a small piece of paper.
Jackson drums his hands on the wheel. “Tell her we just passed marker 37.”
I punch in the numbers and hold the phone to my ear. It rings. Once. Twice. Then, there’s a click. Hissing. No one speaks.
“Hello?” I ask.
More static. A tiny voice crackles through. It’s barely discernible, like a small child giggling. Impossible, I think. There are no small children in the house. “Is anyone…?”
Suddenly, a horrible shriek erupts from the phone. I pull the phone away, wincing.
“What?” Jackson asks.
“You sure that’s the right number?”
Beth shrugs. “That’s what she gave us.”
There’s a low rumbling in my stomach. Feeling nauseous, I crack a window.
“What’re you doing? It’s raining,” Jackson says.