Dark Season: The Complete Box Set (147 page)

Chapter Eight

Eleven years ago

"So do you remember what we talked about yesterday?" my father asks as we sit at the kitchen table. It's 8am and I'm supposed to be eating my breakfast, but I feel kind of sick. I heard the phone ring a few hours ago, and I know what's coming. "About your mother?" he continues. "Do you remember when we -"

"I know she's dead," I say suddenly.

"You know?" he replies, seeming a little surprised.

"I guessed," I say, swallowing a spoonful of cereal. "I heard you on the phone." It's true: the phone rang at about 5am, and I was already awake anyway, so I heard my father talking to someone for a few minutes. He asked whether 'it' had been peaceful, and whether 'it' has been painful. I didn't hear the answers. Although I'm only seven years old, I was still able to work out what he was talking about.

There's an awkward pause. "She wasn't in pain at the end," he says. "She was asleep when it happened, so she didn't even know. The most important thing is that you remember she loved you very much, and that she would never have gone away if she had a choice. Everyone did the best they could, but sometimes bad things happen. You just have to focus on the good memories."

"I know," I say, feeling kind of numb. "Do you know what her last words were?"

"I'm sorry," he replies, "I don't. I can ask one of the nurses, though."

"I'd like to know," I say, feeling that it's somehow important. I can't help thinking that if my mother knew she was about to die, she'd have said something important at the end, something profound; maybe she even sent me a message.

"I'm going to tell your teachers," he continues after a moment. "They'll make sure that everything's okay at school."

"When do I have to go back?" I ask.

"You'll go today, as normal."

"Today?" I ask, suddenly feeling a horrible sense of nausea in the pit of my stomach. I'd assumed that I would have at least a week off, and it never occurred to me that he might send me to school straight away.

"Your Mom and I talked about it," he continues, "and we decided it'd be best to keep everything as normal as possible. It's better for you to be at school with your friends instead of sitting around here. The last thing you need to do is fall behind in class. Anyway, I've got to go and sort out some stuff, so it's best if..." He pauses for a moment. "You'll be fine, Juliet. Just go to school and focus on normal things. Your Mom would want you to keep on with your life."

I look down at my cereal. "Can I have
one
day off?" I ask. "Just one?"

"It's not a good idea," he replies. "Like I said, your Mom and I talked it over quite extensively, and we decided to minimize the disruption to your life as much as possible. It might seem hard right now, but you'll be glad later." He gets up and walks around the table, and then he kneels next to me. "Look at me, Juliet."

I turn to face him, even though I know I won't like what he says.

"Part of being brave is about doing things you don't want to do. I have to go and do some things today that
I
don't want to do, and you have to do the same. Okay?"

"Okay," I say, realizing there's no point arguing with him. He's obviously decided that I have to go to school, and I can't get out of it, even if I hate the idea of everyone looking at me and knowing what's happened.

"Just keep your eyes dry, put on a smile, and act like normal." He stares at me for a moment. "It's the best way, Juliet."

I nod.

"You don't want people to treat you differently, do you?"

I shake my head.

"That's my girl," he continues, giving me a brief hug. "If you act upset, people will start treating you differently, and that's not a good thing. So just be brave, okay? Don't let people see that anything's changed. Act normal. It's the best way through this, I promise. And then, after school, we'll go and have a special ice cream with all the toppings. Your choice. Is that a deal?"

I nod.

"That's my brave girl," he says. "Now you wait right here, and I'll go and get some things together before I take you to school." He grabs some tissue paper from the counter and places it on the table in front of me. "If you want to cry, there's no reason to hold it all in, okay? Just get it out now, before we leave. If you're feeling sad, Juliet, you should let it out instead of forcing it to build up inside. You understand that, don't you?"

I nod.

"Okay," he says, kissing the top of my head before he heads out of the room.

Sitting alone, I stare at the tissue paper and decide I probably don't want to cry. I've had long enough to prepare myself for this moment, and in a strange way I feel relieved. There's definitely a weird feeling in my stomach, as if I'm nervous about something, but basically I feel that crying would be a waste of time. My eyes feel a little heavy for a moment, but the sensation soon passes. There's something else, though; I feel as if maybe, if I turn around, my mother will be there, watching me. I pause, trying to decide whether I should turn and look, and finally I can't help myself. As I look around, however, the feeling evaporates and I'm left sitting all alone.

Epilogue

Today

"So?" my father asks as I get into the car. "How'd it go?"

"Fine," I reply, strapping myself into the safety buckle. Now that my shift is over and the sun is coming up, I feel like I'm in some kind of trance.

"Fine?" He stares at me, clearly waiting for me to give him some more details. "Come on, Juliet, don't keep me in suspense. What happened? Did you do a good job? Did you get on with the people? Did you make friends?"

"Yeah," I say, deciding I definitely don't want to tell him everything that happened. He'd only tell me I'm being stupid, so I figure there's no point giving him the opportunity. "It was pretty much how you'd expect," I add. "I just spent the night checking on patients and going to look for them if they wandered out of their rooms."

"And you've got another shift tonight?"

"Yeah," I say, taking a deep breath. "Actually, they want me almost every night. They..." I pause for a moment, before glancing out the window and seeing Crestview in the early morning light. It's the first time I've really seen the place properly, and I guess it doesn't look quite so fearsome. "I'm gonna be working most nights from now on," I continue. "I figure the pay's good, and it's not the worst job in the world. It's totally doable."

"That's brilliant," he says, leaning over and giving me a hug. "I'm proud of you, Juliet." I flinch, knowing what he's going to say next. "Your Mom would be proud of you too. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," I say quietly as I pull away from the hug. After everything that's happened over the past few hours, the last thing I want to do is have my father launch into one of his long stories about how proud my Mom would be. I guess he thinks it makes me feel better, but it doesn't. It really, really doesn't.

"It's hard to believe you're finally in gainful employment," he continues. "I feel like you've really grown up today, Juliet. It took a while, but I always knew you could do it."

"That's great," I say quietly.

"Aren't you proud of yourself?" he asks. "Doesn't it feel good to do an honest night's work for an honest paycheck?"

"You know," I say, turning to him, "I'm really exhausted and I have to be back here in about fourteen hours for my next shift, so is it okay if we just get home? I really need to sleep."

"Sure," he says, starting the car. "You know, I was actually going to offer to take you for breakfast at that diner you like. Interested? It's on me."

"No thanks," I reply, staring out at Crestview. "I'm tired."

"You don't want maple syrup?" he asks. "I'll pay. All you have to do is choose whatever you want from the menu."

"Not right now," I say, turning to him. "I'm not a big fan of breakfast."

"Okay," he replies, finally getting the hint. "Another time, maybe."

I don't even bother to reply. As the car pulls away, I can't help but keep staring back at the building. Whatever happened during the night, it felt strange but also new, and I want to experience it again; the next time, though, I'm going to be better prepared. I feel as if there's something in that abandoned ward that made sense to me, and that seems even now to be calling me to come back so I can experience it again and again. I can't explain the feeling, but I feel as if there's something waiting in there for me.

Eventually the building goes out of view, and I turn to look at the road ahead. In some strange way, I feel like something has woken up inside my head. It's almost as if there are things I've been keeping hidden from myself for a long, long time, and finally the events of the past night have stirred them and brought them to the surface. In a way, I guess that's why I'm not worried about going back to Crestview: I know that whatever was in that abandoned ward, it was mostly just a manifestation of my own thoughts. I'm not scared of going back; I'm excited.

Arrival

(Devil's Briar 1.1)

Chapter One

Today.

"Devil's Briar was on a few early maps," shouts Bill, trying to be heard over the sound of the spluttering engine as our truck bounces along the dirt road, "but it was generally assumed that the place was just a small encampment. A few houses, maybe a well for water, nothing of any real importance or permanence." At that moment, the truck hits a particularly large bump, jolting us violently. "Those old maps were notoriously unreliable," he adds, barely even missing a beat. "Seriously, if we went looking for every scratchy little town that might or might not have existed, we'd be -"

"Rock!" I shout, pointing at a boulder that's sitting straight in the middle of the road.

Bill looks ahead and sees the boulder just in time. He turns the wheel sharply to the left and the truck careers off the dirt road and into the brush. For a moment, it seems like we might be about to overturn, but the heavily-laden truck just about manages to remain the right way up as Bill slows us down and we come to a halt just at the edge of the tall pine trees that reach high up into the afternoon sky.

Smiling, Bill stares straight ahead. "You see?" he says finally. "You see what it's like out here? There's no infrastructure, no human intervention, just hundreds of miles of pristine, unspoilt woodland. We're probably the first people to come through this stretch of land in years, since the loggers who cut this rough road. There's nothing out here. No oil, nothing of value at all. It's a wasteland. This is the very last corner of America that might have any secrets at all. If we'd died just then, no-one would have found our bodies for... months. Years, even. Maybe not ever."

"You mind if I drive for a while?" I ask, my heart still racing. It's great to see Bill so enthusiastic, especially given what he's been through over the past year, but I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable taking the wheel.

Sighing, he unbuckles his seat-belt and climbs out. "I'm not sick, you know," he says. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm totally fine."

As soon as I get out of my side of the truck, I'm struck by how cold it is out here. There are patches of snow all around, and I can see my breath as I walk around to the driver's side. "It must be below zero," I say, climbing back into the truck. "How much further until we get to Devil's Briar?"

"Just a few more miles," he replies, getting into the passenger seat.

"You said that a few miles ago," I point out, starting the engine, "and a few miles before that." Easing the gas pedal down to avoid spinning the wheels, I ease us slowly back up onto the dirt road. Frankly, this trip is starting to feel like a wild goose chase. For the past week, Bill has been able to talk about nothing other than the possibility of finding this once-buried ghost town out in the Colorado wilderness. It sounded like a far-fetched idea at first, but he gradually gathered enough evidence to persuade me to come with him. I mean, what kind of a wife would I be if I let my husband come on a cockamamie trip like this by himself? He tried to get a few other professors interested at the university, but none of them took his claims seriously. To them, the idea of discovering an entire lost town is too far-fetched. As for me, I'm willing to suspend my disbelief for a while, if only to humor my husband. The truth is: I don't want to be here, but I'm going to humor Bill's obsession. If this trip makes him happy, I guess it'll make me happy too.

"Are you sure there's no-one else out here?" I ask. "We can't seriously have this whole wilderness to ourselves."

"There's nothing and no-one," he replies. "It's dangerous territory. Not the kind of place you want to go wandering around aimlessly. Satellite imaging shows no signs of wheel-tracks or any other kind of disturbance."

"And satellites can never be wrong," I say, unable to hide the cynicism in my voice. I've been supportive so far, but now I'm getting worried. The odds of us actually finding this forgotten ghost town are tiny, and I'm afraid that Bill's spirit will be crushed. Am I doing the right thing by indulging him in this journey? I'm desperate for him to get back into his work, but I can't help wondering if I've let things go too far. I'm starting to think that I should have let him down gently and encouraged him to find some other project. Something nice. Something safe. Something easy.

"It's thanks to the satellites that we found this place at all," he replies. "Without..." He pauses for a moment. "Hang on, pull over for a second."

"Why?" I ask, unable to see anything up ahead that might have piqued his interest.

"Over there!" he says, pointing to the side of the road. "Paula, stop!"

Sighing, I pull over and stop the engine. Bill immediately gets out of the truck and limps over to the edge of the forest, finally stopping next to what looks like a long line of wood that's been partially buried in the ground. At first, I assume it's just a fallen tree, but as I sit and watch him through the windshield, I realize maybe he's actually found something. Getting out of the truck again, I wander over to join him. After all this effort, it'd be pretty amazing if it turned out Bill was actually right about there being something out here.

As I get to his side, I see what he's looking at: it appears to be the foundations of an old house. Laid out before us, six large beams are sticking up from the ground. It's not much, but the only logical explanation is that at some point in the past there was a dwelling here. A dwelling isn't exactly a whole town, but it's still more than I thought we'd find, and it should be enough to boost Bill's confidence. I guess this trip won't be a waste of time after all.

"This isn't on any maps," Bill says, turning to me. I can see the excitement in his eyes. This is the kind of moment he lives for: discovering things that no-one else knows about, and digging up the secrets of the past. These last few years stuck behind a desk at the university, and then recovering in hospital from his accident, have left him drained of enthusiasm. Finally, and slowly, the old Bill - the man I fell in love with, the man I married, the man I hoped to have children with some day - seems to be coming back to me. I should be happy.

"It doesn't mean there was a town here," I point out, trying to manage his expectations. Damn it, sometimes I feel like a mother who's trying to look after a wayward child. "Maybe someone just built a smallholding, tried to live off the land, and then gave up. You can't take these foundations and extrapolate a whole community." I look around at the forest that surrounds us. "I don't see signs of any other buildings in the area."

"The actual town's another mile or two to the north," Bill replies. "This must have been an outlier. People lived here, Paula. They probably built this house with their bare hands. This is part of American history that no-one's ever seen before. This is the American Dream. These foundations have lain undisturbed for decades, maybe even a century or more. Aren't you excited? This is literally the history of our country being unearthed."

"I'm very excited," I say, though I immediately realize that I'm a terrible actress. I don't sound excited at all. I sound bored.

"We need to get going," Bill says, standing up and hurrying back to the truck. "There might be a whole town to explore!"

Sighing, I get to my feet and follow him. It's not that I'm disinterested in the prospect of discovering the remains of an entire town. It's just that I'm not sure how much we can determine about the place from a bunch of ruined foundations. It's not like we're going to find too much left behind, not if the whole place has been covered by snow and soil for almost a century. Still, I have to keep my cynical side in check for now. This trip is about Bill.

"Think about what we might find out here," Bill says as we get back into the truck.

"My husband, the romantic," I say wryly.

"Everyone needs to be passionate about something," he says. "Come on, Paula. Get with the program."

Reluctant to say anything that might burst his bubble, I decide not to argue. Instead, I fire up the truck and we head off along the dirt road. For mile after mile we see nothing ahead of us but more road, lined on either side by pine trees. I start to worry that Bill's hopes of finding an abandoned town are going to be dashed. Just as I'm ready to give up, however, I spot something in the distance.

"You see that?" I ask.

He stares at the map for a moment. "It's not marked down here," he says. "It could be the ruins we saw on the satellite image."

I smile nervously. As we drive closer and closer, it becomes clear that whatever we've found, it's more than just a set of ruins. The trees have been cut back and there are whole buildings left standing, arranged in what looks to be two contra-parallel streets. Whatever this place used to be, it was clearly never a big town, but it was a town, with stores and houses. I park the truck right next to the closest building, and Bill immediately climbs out and takes a few steps toward the town before turning to me. He looks awestruck, as if he never expected to find anything so stunning. It's a small town. It must have been hidden by snow and dust for close to a century before a shift in the local conditions uncovered it. There are no historical records of the place, no firm mentions in any old books or letters. It's as if the town has just cropped up from nowhere: a hundred-year-old ghost town, ruined and abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

"This must be it," Bill says, grinning. He turns to me. "This must be Devil's Briar."