Mundahlia (The Mundahlian Era, #1) (5 page)

I entered the car first, bouncing my way to the middle seat again once we were done eating and paid.

The car roared and shook when the ignition started, scaring a flock of birds out of nearby trees. “Where to now?” I asked George.

“We’re going to take you for a tour of the capitol,” he replied, looking at me through the rearview mirror again. “All Texans should see it at some point in time. Then we’re going to show you some other parts of town.”

“Sounds fun,” I lied. Sounds boring. Where’s that mall Celeste mentioned?

Celeste and George stayed quiet and mad throughout the whole tour of the massive building that was the Texas State Capitol, which I came to learn was the seventh largest building in the world in 1888. I thought it was funny watching him move next to her, only to have her inch farther away. Or try to reach for her hands and instead watch her fold them in her arms. In a bicker over something so small. I didn’t care if Celeste cried and got lost on her first day in a big city. Although, I’ll admit that I did crack a smile back at the restaurant, but it wasn’t a big deal. It happens. There’s only two things that cause attitude changes like that, hormones and love. And right now she was going through both, so I tried to distance myself as much as I could from being within her throwing distance.

The tour guide could not have had a more monotonous and boring voice than the one she was using to describe the grand building which smelled of dust, old books, and cleaners. I chose not to pay attention. We were in a large office with tons of books surrounding us. There were dark red velvet ropes keeping us separated from the majority of the grand room complete with a large table with majestic looking chairs. I brushed my fingers against the furry rope. It felt soft, delicate, and-

“Please don’t touch the velvet rope!” The tour guide ordered in a nice but still condescending tone. It took a while to realize she was talking to me.

“Oh,” I said, retracting my hand. “Sorry!”

Geez. Even the rope is special here.
Sheesh! Consider yourself even more ignored for the rest of the tour lady!

...

I entered the bedroom of my dull cabin after returning from a day of touring the city. We stopped by a park for an arts and crafts show after the tour of the capitol, then headed over to do some grocery shopping at the farmers market—which seemed to be the only thing that I really wanted to go see in this tour around Austin. I could get used to that.
Maybe I should look into coming to the university here?
Pay the rent to my cabin by proposing a babysitting plan to Celeste and George. Sorta like a live-in nanny. They’ll have a babysitter whenever they want to go out, and Rini gets to stay in the beautiful city of Austin and attend the university.
Why am I thinking in third person?

I threw my shell necklaces that Celeste bought me at the arts and crafts show on the desk, and unplugged my laptop from its power cord. The bed’s old metal frame creaked as I crawled to the center and laid. Upon opening the laptop screen, I was greeted by yet another captured moment from my past.

On the wallpaper, a picture of my friends James and Lily, was placed behind the tiny icons surrounding my screen. In the picture, my friends and I stood frozen in time with our arms thrown around each other in front of the camp sign. It was almost as if I could hear the laughter of the children we would take care of as camp counselors. A summer job I took to earn extra money in the breaks between my high school years. Memories of Lake Amistad surfaced too. I missed those summers when James would run from one end of the platform—making a huge splash as he pummeled in. Heck, I even remember when he had gotten a small-mouth bass stuck in his swimming trunks. Lily and I laughed our asses off as we watched him wiggle the poor fish out.

I was just about to turn the TV on when—

BOOM!

A loud noise, almost like an explosion sounded from behind my cabin. It nearly shook the whole structure. I got up from the bed and ran over to my bedroom door leaning out to see out the backdoor window.

BOOM!
I jumped back a little. There it was again.

Whatever was making the sound, both frightened me
and
tickled my interest. I crept to the backdoor and felt the satiny fabric of the curtain and pushed it aside to get a better glimpse outside. Panning the forest and seeing nothing but trees and bushes blowing in the wind.

Okay mysterious forest, can you not be creepy? I just started to relax.

My dangling necklace unlatched and fell to the wooden floor. The curtain slid back into place as I bent over to retrieve the locket, and when I returned my gaze, a swift dark brown figure entered the forest in the blink of an eye. I could feel my mouth open as I stood still. I had missed most of it by blinking, but I knew I saw something. Shaped like a large canine with a bushy tail.

Suddenly, another
boom
sounded. I jolted back quickly—catching the back of my shoe, and fell to the ground. When I scurried back up to my feet, I tried to sneak another quick look.

BOOM!

Running as fast as I could in the evening light, I bolted through the front door of my cabin, dashing for Celeste’s home.

“Did you guys hear that!” I burst through the back door. She and George were nestled together on the couch—asleep with the TV on.

“Hear what?” George blinked and looked over his arm to me. Celeste stirred, her mind still in dreamland.

“Uh, the loud noises! You know the booms?!”

“Oh, it’s probably the TV. I’m watching an action movie, but I’ll lower it down some,” George searched for the remote and pressed the volume down button, lowering it to a soft mumbled level near mute.

“No, it wasn’t the-” I stopped—George had already fallen back asleep and was snoring. “Oh, forget it!” I left the house, gazing at the pink and orange sky, and jogged back to my cabin.

...

I spent the rest of the day watching stupid videos online and a few of my favorite DVDs on the small old TV that was hooked up in my room—it helped get my mind off of whatever had happened.

The sun had shifted positions with the moon by the time I had the courage to look into the hall again. It was dark out, and the cool eerie wind outside had picked up for the second night in a row. My throat felt dry and I knew the small fridge by the backdoor was packed with bottles of water—courtesy of Celeste and George dropping some off after their nap. It seemed safe enough.

Licking my parched lips one last time to determine whether the water was absolutely necessary, I dashed for the fridge and flung open the small door. It hit the wall and ricocheted with equal force back at me. The broken metal bars along the side of the door sliced into my arm as I grabbed the first bottle I grasped my fingers on and dashed back to my room. Damn you physics! Okay, maybe going ninja-style to get the water was a bit much. The small scrape across my arm—a battle scar. Fridge one, Me zero.

Two-in-the-morning rolled around, and I lied awake, unable to drift off to sleep. My body was weary—my mind, not even close. I closed my eyes and listened to the oscillating fan as it panned the room. In the morning, I would continue my senior year at a different high school. For a moment, I pondered faking sick like I used to do when I was in elementary or middle school. But, what the heck—I might as well get it over with. Rip it off quickly like the bandage I had to strip off in the shower from the incident last night. I brushed my fingers over the area. Scabs were beginning to encrust onto the scrapes as my body was doing all it could to heal the wounds. The area around it was a few shades lighter than the rest of my skin, and in the shape of the bandage. Like an inverted shadow, showing what once was there. He came out of nowhere. The mysterious and peculiar man I met last night. As if he rode in with the cold front—carried over by the wind like the seeds of a dandelion.

The owls started up again, starting their missions of catching their prey and doing other mysterious things owls do during the night.

I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t afraid. Scared for my safety, and that whatever was making noise in the forest might return or start up again. For a second, everything grew quiet. Too quiet. Like all the sounds on earth had been shushed.

Then, somewhere deep within the forest—the distant sound of a wolf’s howl echoed. It soothed me in a strange way. It was all I could remember before I awoke with the sun glistening in my eyes. I propped myself up, thinking of how I had fallen asleep at the sound of a howl.

Wolves?
I thought.
Behind my cabin?

3

“Hey, how’d ya’ sleep?” George asked as I entered the back door of their house and hopped into the kitchen. Immediately, the delightful smell of crisping bacon struck me in the nose then kissed it to make it feel better.

“Eh, all right I guess.” I climbed onto the stool and rested my head on folded arms and watched as he cooked.

Celeste strode over to the fridge—opened it and turned to me. “Apple juice, orange juice, or water?” she asked. She was still dressed in her nightgown. A pink frock that looked a few ages too mature for her to be wearing at her age, and slippers—the fuzzy
wow-you-have-no-shame-do-you?
kind.

“Can I have some coffee?” I motioned to the lively coffee machine sitting on top of the counter beside me, spouting a dark liquid into the handled glass pot, “But, I’ll take a water for later.”

Celeste set a bottled water on the counter and sauntered back to the black griddle on the stove top. She put the last of the round tortillas she was making with the rest of the stack—covered in a cloth to stay warm.

George opened a cabinet above him and fetched three coffee mugs, each of different colors, and set them in front of me. “Pour us some too, will ya’?” he replaced the pan he was using with a clean one, and poured a little of the left over bacon grease into it. Whisking some eggs he had beat before, George poured them into the pan. The high heat immediately began turning the yellow liquid into a solid as it sizzled around the edges and began to curdle.

“Are you cooking the eggs in bacon grease?” I asked, already pouring the last cup of coffee into a red ceramic mug. Mine.

“Is there any other way?” he winked.

...

When we finished eating, George kissed Celeste goodbye and he and I entered his old, muddy work truck outside. The color—a worn black faded into a dark smokey grey.

Celeste, on the other hand, stayed behind. She had quit her previous job as an English teacher at the school I would be attending, and picked up a full-time job as a stay-at-home mom-to-be, as well as a hobby—writing articles for an online website for some extra income.

“All right, I know you’ll be nervous since you’re new to this school, and if you can’t make it through the day, just text me and I’ll come pick you up.” George and I had just turned the corner onto the paved road that led to the city.

“I guess—” I adjusted the seatbelt that was too close to my neck. I’d read those stories. I did
not
want to die from a cut throat by a seatbelt, but that wasn’t the only thing bothering me.

“Hey George?” I asked.

“What’s up?”

“The wolves in the forest behind the cabin—they aren’t dangerous, right?”

George looked puzzled—donning a face as if I had just told him to go to hell. He moved his hand to the volume knob and lowered the radio. “Wolves?” he said. From the sound of his voice it was as if he thought I was crazy. “Rini, there haven’t been wolves in Austin for ages. They were all hunted or scared away a
very
long time ago. Before all the buildings were even built. Why do you ask?”

Hmm. No wolves for ages, huh? Well, it seems as though they didn’t scare
all
of them away. “Last night, I heard a wolf’s howl. I’m
pretty
sure it was a wolf.”

“Maybe it was just a mutt,” George added, with a side smile. “Dogs can howl too ya’ know. ‘Member, Manny?”

“No, it was definitely a wolf,” I protested.

George processed the information in his head while sporting furrowed brows. “Hmm,” he finally said. “Well, after work, I’ll go take a look around, I guess. Been meanin’ to since Cel and I don’t want our child being dragged off and done in by some rabid animal.”

I didn’t want him to do it because I wanted him to. What if he got mauled to death? How would I explain that to Celeste? She’d hate me forever—I’d hate me forever.

“Can I go with you?” I asked. If anything went down, I didn’t want to be left to explain. Either way, I would end up dead. And I think the wolf would have a little more mercy.

“Sure. If you want to.” George raised the radio a little louder and smoothed out his rugged hair with one hand. “It can get pretty frightnin’ in the forest, though,” he said. “You don’t know what could be hidin’ or
watchn’ you—waiting for the kill.” He made a creepy stalker-ish face, then laughed it away. “Just kiddn’.”

After driving nearly fifteen more minutes, we finally stopped in front of a tall, ancient looking structure. I didn’t even have to be inside to know that it probably smelled of old, dusty books, mold, and maybe even a hint of stale water—inside of the rusted water fountains that more than likely lined the halls.

“All right, you’re going to go through those doors—the front office should be to the right. Ask for Martha, she is going to have a copy of your schedule.” George then pulled out his wallet and handed me a crisp ten-dollar bill.

“Awesome. I get paid to come to school?” I said sarcastically.

“No, you get
paid
so you can eat lunch and not starve for eight hours,” George replied, matching my sarcasm.

“I think five dollars would be enough.”
Creeaaak!
I opened the truck door and stepped onto the pavement as I set the money in a zipper inside my purple purse. I’ve had it for ages, ever since I discovered the likes of make-up and perfume and needed a place to keep it all.
Zip!

“Ha. You’ll see.” George said, “I’ll pick you up around four o’ clock,” before driving off. I turned to face my new school. There were black crows resting and cawing on the letters that spelled out the school name. An omen? Possibly. I never really cared for crows. They freaked me out with their tiny beady eyes and the way they look directly at you and tilt their head suspiciously. That feeling had to have formed by me watching
The Birds
by Alfred Hitchcock when I was younger.

“Nice threads,” a guy wearing a black fedora and grey scarf said to me once I entered through the door. He and a girl in a red beret and navy blue dress journeyed farther down the hall carrying some books in their free hand while keeping the other entwined together.

“Thank you,” I smiled, jumping when the massive door slammed shut behind me. I was right about the smell. Except to my surprise, there was a hint of antibacterial spray roaming about the air as well.