Take Me To Your Reader: An Otherworld Anthology (27 page)

I yanked the door open and stepped out into the dark, empty street. Although I was in almost the center of town, I might as well have been in a graveyard. I spun my Converse-clad feet in a slow circle looking for a light to be on or a person walking by, but found nothing.  I could call for help, but I had just been trying to charge my phone in the truck. Now, both were dead. I guess I
'd just have to hoof it. Great.

The late August days in my tiny town outside of Roswell, New Mexico were unforgiving in their humidity levels. I was looking forward to the winter, when the air would be crisp instead of heavy and thick. It wasn
't as bad as Florida or anything, but it aggravated my asthma. I was enough of a nerd without the constant puffing on an inhaler to remind people.

I knew I
'd have to take this walk slow since I didn't have my inhaler with me. I was still a good three miles from my house, but I didn't make it two blocks before I could feel the sweat dripping down my neck and back. I paused at the next block and sat on a bench as I dug in my purse for a hair tie. Long, thick hair made for great fashion sometimes, but it was hell to manage. I often wanted to cut it all off, but my mom said she'd kill me. If I heard "but people pay to have hair like yours" one more time, I might say screw it all and pull a GI Jane. It wasn't as if I could get much more unpopular, and it would save me so much time in the morning.

As I dug, a car engine grumbled to a stop next to me.
Thank heavens
, I thought.
Finally something is going my way. Maybe I can get a ride home, or at least borrow a cell to call my parents for a ride
. I found the hair tie and pulled my dark brown hair up into a messy bun before standing up and heading to the car. The sporty car looked brand new, so I didn't recognize it. And the windows were darkly tinted, so I was unable to see the driver. No matter, it was a small town, so I was pretty sure I'd know whoever it was.

The window began to roll down, and I leaned over to peer inside.
"Hey, thanks so much for stopping. Do you think you could…" I stopped, unable to get another word out when I realized who it was. My breath caught in my throat, and I stumbled back a few steps.

Sitting smugly slouched down in the seat, Tate McCallister formed a smile that slowly spread across his gorgeous face.
"Well hey there Prissy Krissy.  Whacha doin out here at this hour?"

I inhaled a deep breath and held it for a minute before slowly exhaling, trying to calm my irritation before I went off on him. Again. Of course of all the people to come by, it would be Tate.

I'd known Tate since kindergarten, and had a pathetic crush on him almost as long. He was gorgeous: tall, dark, and handsome. He was the star wide receiver on the football team, had all the muscles to back up his athletic abilities, and had the most piercing green eyes I'd ever seen. The problem was: he was a huge ass.

Throughout most of middle school, he tormented me. He
'd pull my hair when he sat behind me in class, once he'd even drawn a dirty picture of me in art class, made copies, and passed them out to all the guys in gym class. I wasn't naked in the picture and he didn't put my name on it, but it was very clear who the drawing represented and the suggestive things I was doing in the picture. Worst of all, it was him who saddled me with the nickname Prissy Krissy in ninth grade after I went on one date with Joey Fishborne. I'd pushed Joey away when he sloppily shoved his tongue down my throat at the end of the night and slapped him when he tried to grab my boob. I wasn't really prissy, but c'mon! It was the first date and the guy was a terrible kisser. But Joey went and told everyone that I didn't like guys, starting the rumor that I was a lesbian. Thanks to my best friend, that rumor died quickly, but Prissy Krissy stuck to this day.

After ninth grade, I luckily fell off of Tate
's radar and he ignored me, which suited me perfectly. I'd have the occasional class with him or see him around town and though he never said anything to me, I'd catch him watching. It made me nervous…and as much as I hated to admit it, excited.

"
Ugh. Nevermind. You can keep on driving, Tate."  I stood up straight and clutched my purse, turning away from Tate. I'd take the heat and humidity over him taunting me during a ride home—or worse, enjoying the ride home sitting next to him—any day. Yeah, his was a kind of heat I needed to keep bottled up and far, far away.

******

Tate

I almost hit the curb with my new car when I saw Krissy Montgomery sitting on that bench. We were in the middle of Main Street after eleven at night, so what was she doing walking around alone? It wasn
't safe. It didn't matter, she wasn't alone any longer. I wouldn't let anything happen to her.

I still remembered the first time I saw Krissy way back in kindergarten. She wore a bright yellow jumper, which made her dark brown, almost black hair really pop. When the teacher told us to gather
'round the story-time mat, she noticed one girl hiding in the corner. Everyone ignored her and went to sit, but Krissy didn't hesitate; she walked right up, grabbed the girl's hand, and smiled warmly as she told the girl, "C'mon. You can sit next to me." I had gone home that first day of school and told my mom that I would marry that girl one day.

Krissy only got more beautiful as we grew up, but somehow I always managed to screw it up with her, and she
'd hated me for years. I'm sure the nickname the punks at school gave her didn't help, and I know she blamed me for it though I didn't start it. I just couldn't get it right with her and always managed to make it worse.  I finally decided to keep my distance, hoping to screw It up any more than I already had with the hopes I could make it up to her one day.

Maybe today was that day.

"Krissy, it's not safe for you to be walking around out here this late. Hey, will you stop for a second?" I put the car in park and hustled to catch up with her and heard her huffing in irritation in front of me.

"
Take a look around, Tate. What exactly am I supposed to be afraid of? Mrs. Lopez's Chihuahua getting out? Or maybe Old Man Pollard shuffling out here with his rolling walker to get me?"

She spun away from me and continued down the street. She looked so good in her tight little shorts that I almost wanted to let her keep walking. The view was incredible. I shoved my hormones aside and remembered why I chasing her in the first place.

"Don't be stubborn, Krissy. Just let me give you a ride home. Do you hate me that much so you can't be in the car with me the few miles to your house?" She ignored me and kept walking, so I increased my stride and reached out to touch her arm. She shivered and stopped walking. "Let me take you home. You can continue to hate me tomorrow, okay?"

*****

Krissy

I stared into his pleading eyes, and just couldn't say no. Hell, I might have agreed to marry him and bear his children with that look his was giving me. I could drown in that look, but oh what a way to go.

This was such a bad idea, but I couldn
't resist.

"
Fine, you can drive me home. But don't touch me. Or talk to me."  Because if he did, I wasn't sure I could keep hating him. And I really, really wanted to keep hating him. It was always easier to remember the reasons he was a total doucheburger when he wasn't standing so close to me, smelling of leather and soap and making me want to lean into the crook of his neck and never leave.

I took a breath of clean air to clear my head and began walking toward Tate
's truck. His hand brushed against the small of my back, guiding me. The touch was like hot coals igniting me, and I hated that I loved it. I walked faster, but he still somehow managed to get to the car first and hold the door open for me. I started to slide in, but paused at the edge of the seat.

"
Should I just plug my address into your GPS here or…"

I was cut off by a low wail coming from the alleyway behind the Quik Pick.
"What the hell was that?"

The sound—the wail—happened again, louder this time. Tate spun around and pushed back against me protectively.
"No idea. Sounds like someone's in a shit load of pain." He turned around into me, suddenly so close that we were breathing the same air.

I closed my eyes and leaned back. I needed away from the now almost overwhelming temptation. It was one thing when we were a classroom apart and I could remember why I hated him, but it was a whole other ballgame when he stood this close. My brain became mush and wanted to make up with him. And make out with him.

A crash brought me out of out of my head and I instinctively grabbed onto Tate's shoulders. "What was that? Did something fall? Someone has to be hurt; we need to help."

"
No, you need to stay here. We don't know what that noise was. It could be a junkie comin' down from their high or someone trying to break into the store." He reached into his trunk and grabbed his hunting rifle. "You stay here and call 911 just in case. I'll go check it out."

Tate took off running before I could explain that my cell was dead. God, he was infuriating.  I had no choice but to follow him. With each step I took down the alleyway, it became darker and darker. I could barely see my feet in front of me, and had completely lost sight of Tate. It had become as silent as it was dark, and chills ran down my spine.

"
Tate?" I whispered, inching my way forward.  "Where are you?"  I waited, but heard no reply. Taking two precarious steps forward, I tried again. "Tate?"

Before I could take a third step, a large hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed my wrist, pulling me and causing me to stumble. I didn
't even have the chance to scream before another hand covered my mouth, preventing me from making a sound.

"
Shh. It's okay, Krissy. It's just me." I let go of the panic seizing my chest and sunk back into him. "There was something—or someone—over there behind the dumpster, but it just disappeared. Into thin air. It was the craziest fuckin' thing." He paused for a second, gently brushing the hair from my neck and leaning in. "Sorry, I forget my manners sometimes." I could feel his warm lips caressing my ear. "Something just feels off. Unnatural," he whispered.

"
Are you sure?" I knew I should be frightened by the situation, but I wasn't. Not until his words began to sink in.

Tate
's arms tightened around me. "Enough to tell you we need to get the hell out of here! Like, now."

I didn
't stop to argue because even without the strange noise, an abandoned alley in the middle of the night still gave me the creeps. Tate's hand slipped into mine and he began to lead me out of the alley. We didn't make it ten steps before the wail sounded again, louder and more frightening. And this time, a small orange glow emanated from behind us, lighting our path. We stopped dead in our tracks, frozen by the grating and pained sound of the wail.

Tate cocked the rifle and pointed it down the alley as we slowly pivoted toward the sound, curiosity winning out over fear this once. A figure was huddled beside the dumpster. It was small, maybe a child, but the glow silhouetted him or her, and I couldn
't make out much more than the vague, hunched-over shape.

"
Oh my God, it's a kid. We have to help them!"

The glow disappeared, shrouding us in darkness once again. Tate passed the gun to me, but it fumbled in my shaking hands and I dropped it as Tate opened his cell, turning on the flashlight app so we could see. I shrugged out of Tate
's hold and we both stepped toward the child, but as I approached I realized it wasn't a child at all. Although she was built like a child, she stood no more than three-and-a-half or four feet but had the features were those of an adult woman, full of wrinkles, grey hair, and all.

"
Are…are you okay?" The woman-child's face was scrunched and her eyes were closed in agony, but I could see no obvious injuries.

The woman stilled, surprised as if I
'd scared her somehow. When her eyes opened, they glowed bright orange.

*****

Tate

I'd never seen anything like it. Not in real life, not on TV, and not in any sci-fi movie I'd ever watched. I blinked repeatedly and rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was hallucinating. The creature's eyes—I wasn't sure I could call it a human—burned so bright they lit the entire area.  I was simultaneously intrigued by their beauty and freaked out of my mind. What the hell was this thing?

With her eyes open and illuminating the area, I could now make out the extent of her injuries. She had been beaten, badly. I could see heinous purple bruises up and down her small arms and legs: several lacerations oozed thick trails of blood, and given her labored breathing and hunched position, I guessed she had a couple of broken ribs too.

"Ppp…please. Help me," the woman spoke, pausing to cough up blood.

Krissy didn
't hesitate, leaving the safety of my side and rushing toward the creature. "You need a doctor. Should we call 911?"