Authors: Christine Kersey
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #abuse, #New Adult & College, #suspense, #new adult, #Suspense Fiction
Trying not to look at the unwelcome furnishings, I left the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen. I flung open the pantry door and unzipped my backpack, putting a few bottles of water inside. I grabbed a box of crackers and a package of dried fruit and added them as well.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a woman shrieked.
I spun around, startled to see someone standing there. The woman stared at me and I knew that with my filthy clothes I must look frightening. “I was just looking for my family,” I managed to say.
“In my pantry?”
“Well, no. This house. It’s my house.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, anger clear on her face. “It’s bought and paid for, thank you very much.” She stared at my feet. “And you’re tracking mud all through it.”
I glanced at my shoes, then looked at her. “But when did you buy it? When did you move in?”
“Weeks ago.”
“But I was just here yesterday and you didn’t live here.”
The woman looked at me like I had just gotten off the bus from crazy town.
“I don’t know who you are,” she said. “But I live here now.”
More confused than ever, I asked, “Do you know where the family went that used to live here?”
“I have no idea. They are not my problem.”
I noticed a look come across her face, almost like she felt guilty or something. Thinking I might ask the neighbors if they knew where my family had gone, I hefted my backpack onto one shoulder, grateful I had gotten a little bit of food.
“Where do you think you’re going with that?” the woman asked, a look of fury on her face, as if I was stealing her heirloom jewels.
“I’m going to find my family.” She stood between me and both the doorway to the living room and the back door through which I had originally come.
“You may not take my food.”
I noticed her fury was changing to distress.
“Do you have any idea how long it took me to save all that up?” Her hands were on her hips and her jaw clenched as she spoke.
I noticed she was pretty skinny and knew I could probably push past her easily enough.
“I’m sorry to take some of your food,” I said, almost feeling bad for her. “But I think I’m going to need it more than you.”
She looked me up and down, then squinted. “You could stand to lose a few pounds, missy.”
Shocked by her comment, my shoulders sagged. I thought I looked okay. Sure, I wouldn’t disappear if I lost a few pounds, but I was happy with my body. Then I became angry. Who is this skinny shrew to comment on my weight? I tightened the backpack on my shoulders and strode toward her.
She stepped in my path, but my face must have looked fierce because she quickly stepped aside when I got close to her. I walked past her and into the living room, then out the front door. As I walked out the front gate she yelled after me, “You’d better not show your face around here again or I’ll call the police.”
Eyeing her over my shoulder, I gave her a dirty look, angry at her for living in my house, even though I knew that didn’t make any sense. The whole thing didn’t make any sense.
How was it possible that my family had disappeared when I’d been with them, in that house, only the day before?
Chapter Five
Deciding it might not be such a great idea to stick around the neighborhood interviewing the neighbors—neighbors I’d never bothered getting to know—I walked as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast with the heavy backpack on my shoulders, and headed away from my house. As I passed the path I had taken the night before, I stared down the wooded trail, but kept on walking, heading for the main road.
Five minutes later I reached the road and considered hitchhiking into town. Maybe in town I could find out what had happened to my family. I walked along the road, waiting for a car to come by so I could try to get a ride. No cars came and I kept walking, thinking about the strange things that were happening.
How is it possible that my family lived in that house mere hours ago, but are now gone? And the woman said she’s lived there for weeks. That’s impossible.
Impossible.
I tried convincing myself that this was just a nightmare and that I was asleep. I pinched my arm, hard, hoping I would wake up, but the only thing that happened was a sharp pain in my arm that was sure to leave a bruise. Tears of frustration filled my eyes.
I thought about my family. I would do anything to find them. Then I frowned at the irony. Yesterday I had been so mad at Mom that I couldn’t wait to run away from home. Today I was devastated that I couldn’t be with her and Dad. I even missed Amy and my little brothers.
Trudging along the road, I tried to think of a reason, any reason, why they had disappeared. Nothing came to mind.
Finally I came to a bus stop that had a bench and a wooden structure shading it, probably built by some boy trying to earn his Eagle Scout award. That was fine with me. All I wanted was a place to stop and have something to eat.
I dropped onto the bench, exhausted, and set the backpack on the seat next to me. I nibbled on some dried fruit, then drank some water. After my hunger was partially satisfied, I reached into a side pocket and pulled out a small notebook along with a pen. My hand trembled as I set the small notepad on my lap. I clutched the pen in my other hand until the shaking stopped, then forced myself to write.
My name is Morgan Campbell. I’m sixteen years old and I don’t understand what is happening.
I set the pen down and stared at the empty street, slouching on the bench, wondering if a bus would actually be coming. Fresh confusion swept over me and I gnawed on the inside of my lip.
What is happening? Where is my family?
Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.
But nothing made sense.
Trying to focus my thoughts on something constructive to do, I decided to write down the steps I could take to find my family. Trying to distract myself from the bizarre errand I was now on, I concentrated on using my best penmanship.
Find a computer and Google them or find a phone book and look them up.
I stared at what I’d written. “It’s not much of a list,” I murmured. Pen poised over the paper, I had no idea what else to write.
The rumble of a bus saved me from thinking too hard about my situation. Quickly stuffing my notebook and pen into the side pocket of my backpack, I pulled out my wallet. The door to the bus whooshed open and I climbed the steps, stopping next to the bus driver.
“How much to ride the bus?” I asked.
He barely glanced my way. “Two dollars.”
Unzipping the compartment on my wallet where I kept the bills, I frowned as I looked inside. I was living off the cash I’d had in my wallet and I didn’t have a penny over thirty dollars.
Maybe I can stop by the bank and withdraw some of my savings, I thought.
The bus driver cleared his throat and threw a look my way. Frowning, I dug out two dollars and shoved them into the receptacle then turned toward the seats. There were only a handful of people on the bus. I sat in the first empty seat, which was in the front row, but not the one behind the bus driver. I never liked to sit right behind the bus driver; I always felt like I was being watched when I sat there.
He pulled the handle to close the door and we lumbered down the road. I knew it would take at least ten minutes to reach town, having driven there with my family a few times. I watched the blur of trees as we sped past the forest. The trees changed to meadows and I stared at the few houses we passed, wondering if my family could be in one of them.
When the bus stopped in the center of town I climbed off, dragging my backpack with me. I headed down the main street, on the lookout for a place to use a computer. Starting off in a random direction, I looked at the store fronts as I passed. Boutiques, bookstores, and mom and pop diners lined the road. Nothing with public access to a computer. But then it occurred to me that one of the stores might have a phone book, which would also have the information I needed.
A few minutes later I found myself standing in front of the
Come on Inn Diner
. It looked like they had rooms available above the diner, which must be where the
Inn
part of the name came from. I opened the door and the smell of hamburgers wafted toward me, making my stomach growl.
Ignoring my first impulse to go right to the counter, I made my way to the ladies room and pushed through the door. I saw two stalls, but both were unoccupied. Glad to be alone, I went to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. Normally I kept my wavy dark-blonde hair under control, but now it stuck up in several places. Plus my face needed washing.
No wonder that woman at my house looked scared of me, I thought. I’m a mess.
I set my backpack on the floor, then splashed warm water on my face. I ran my wet hands through my hair, forcing it to behave. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried my face and hands, then used the damp paper towels to wipe the dirt off of my shoes.
Tossing the dirty paper towels in the trash, I looked in the mirror again and thought I looked presentable, even if I didn’t look my best. Just then a woman walked in and went into a stall. I grabbed my backpack and left, heading directly toward the counter.
Sliding onto a stool, I picked up the menu, deciding I could take a moment to eat something before continuing my quest. The menu choices were a bit surprising: veggie burgers, low-fat soups and salads, low-calorie deli sandwiches. I’d never had a veggie burger before, but was too hungry to be picky and decided to order one with all the fixings, along with a diet soda.
“What can I get you, hon?” the waitress asked, her pencil at the ready on her notepad.
I told her what I wanted and she didn’t respond, but stared at me. Finally she said, “Don’t you think you’d prefer one of our low-fat soups? The vegetable minestrone is especially good.”
I felt my eyebrows furrow. “Is there something wrong with the veggie burger?”
“Oh no. It’s fantastic.” She smiled, showing straight white teeth framed by bright red lips.
“Then why would I want the soup?”
She glanced in the direction of my waist, then met my eyes. “Veggie burger it is.”
When she turned around to give the order to the cook, I looked down at my stomach self-consciously and sat up straighter, sucking in my gut. That was twice today someone had suggested I needed to lose weight. I couldn’t believe how rude some people were.
A short time later the waitress placed my order in front of me, a look of disapproval on her face. I almost said something rude to her, but instead asked if she had a phone book I could look through. A moment later she placed one on the counter next to my plate and I eagerly flipped to the C’s. Running my finger down the page, I saw there were a lot of Campbell’s. My finger stopped when I reached
Campbell, Steven and Roxanne
. My gaze followed my finger as it moved to the address listed across from the name.
I blinked to make sure I had read it correctly and frowned as I confirmed that the address was the address of the house I had so recently left. The house with the woman who said she didn’t know where my family had gone.
I stared at the page without seeing it, my thoughts racing, then pushed the phone book away. I looked at my veggie burger and found my appetite had diminished. Knowing my funds were limited and that it might be a while before I had the chance to eat a hot meal, I forced myself to eat half of the burger and asked for a box to put the rest in.
The waitress smiled with apparent approval that I hadn’t eaten the whole thing and I decided I wouldn’t leave her a tip. She placed an empty box next to my plate and turned away to refill a customer’s coffee mug.
Before I left I decided to look at the address once more, just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I looked at all the Campbell’s near my parents’ names and didn’t see any others that were similar. My gaze wandered to the next column and settled on a name that I recognized.
Candee, Mitchell and Tiffany
Those must be Rochelle Candee’s parents, I thought, elated. There were no other Candee’s in the listings. I didn’t know Rochelle very well, but she sat next to me in two of my classes and had been reasonably friendly. I tended to keep to myself so I hadn’t made many friends since we’d moved here. Okay, let’s be honest. I’d only made acquaintances, not friends. I didn’t know anyone all that well.
But still, seeing a name I recognized gave me the tiniest bit of hope, hope that I desperately needed. I wrote down her phone number and address in my notebook, then called the waitress over and showed her the address. “Do you know where this is?”
She touched the notepad with her long red nails. A red that matched her lipstick, I noticed, then smiled at me. “Sure, hon. I know right where that is.” She pointed out the window in the general direction I had come from. “You go on down Main Street until you get to the Green Leaf Bookstore. Then you make a left and go two blocks. Then you take a right and go three blocks. There’s a little park there and you’ll find that street right by the park.”
I wrote furiously in my notebook, knowing there was no way I could remember the directions otherwise. “Thank you.” I placed the box with my leftover hamburger in my backpack, hoping I would regain my appetite before the bacteria started growing on the warm food. I wondered if bacteria grew slower on a veggie burger than on a real hamburger.
I paid for the meal and ended up leaving a tip since the waitress had been helpful after all, then left the diner and headed in the direction she had pointed out.
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Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1)
Also by Christine Kersey