American Monsters

“I think you have my bag,” said Amber, looking down at her.

“Holy crap!” the blonde said, not even trying to get up. “How did you do that? You nearly gave me a heart attack! How did you do that?”

Amber picked up her bag. “This is mine.”

The blonde lay back, flattening herself out on the ground. “My nerves are shot. Gimme a second.”

Amber couldn’t help but smile. “You okay?”

“No. I’m really not.”

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be.”

“But you did steal my bag.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to scare me.”

“Kinda does, though.”

The blonde sighed, then sat up. “You’re lucky I didn’t pee myself.”

“I think you’re the lucky one in that regard.”

“These are my only pants. You’d have had to buy me a new pair.”

“I don’t think I would have, but okay. Do you need a hand?”

“I don’t accept charity.”

“I meant, do you need a hand up?”

“Oh. No, but I’ll take some charity if you have any.” She got up, rubbed her butt. “That hurt. You’re faster than you look.”

“I’d have to be.”

“So what are you gonna do? Turn me in?”

Amber frowned. “Turn you into what?”

“Turn me in to the cops, dummy.”

“Oh,” said Amber. “No, not really.”

“Right,” the blonde said, and looked around. “Then do you want to buy me dinner?”

“Uh … is this how you treat everyone you steal from?”

“Just the ones who look like they might say yes.” The blonde grinned. “Go on, say yes. I haven’t eaten all day. Just buy me a burger. A cheeseburger. And fries with ketchup. And a Sprite. And maybe some pie for dessert. And a sandwich to go. You owe me at least that.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Shush now.”

“Listen, I’ve had a long day, and I’m really tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I … well, yeah, but—”

“Then it’s settled,” the blonde said, clapping her hands. “I won’t steal your bag and, in return, you buy me food. What a wonderful bargain we’ve struck.”

Amber said goodnight to Milo, dropped her bag in her room, and joined the blonde girl in a badly upholstered booth in the diner. They ordered, and looked at each other.

“Name’s Clarissa,” the blonde girl said.

“Amber.”

“I like your name.”

“I like yours, too.”

“Thanks,” Clarissa said. “It’s not my real name, but I picked it because I always liked it. There was a show I used to watch on reruns, and her name was called Clarissa and she had a happy family and friends and everything, so when I left I said I know, I’m gonna be like her. She always seemed to have her life in order, in a Clarissa Explains It All kinda way.”

“You ran away from home?”

“Home is a bit of a stretch. House with abusive stepdad is more accurate. What’s your story?”

“I guess I ran away, too.”

“That guy you’re with,” said Clarissa. “Boyfriend?”

Amber laughed. “No. Friend.”

Clarissa shrugged. “That’s cool. Must be nice to have someone watching your back.”

“It is. How long have you been, y’know …?”

Clarissa widened her eyes, like it was a scandalous notion. “Homeless? A year. Well, just under. It’s really everything you’d expect. You get to sleep under the stars, the world is your bathroom and the people are … peachy. Non-stop fun is what it is.”

Amber searched for the right words. “I guess you’ve met all kinds on the road.”

“That I have, Amber,” said Clarissa.

“Same here. Some of the people I’ve met have been scarier than others.”

Clarissa nodded. “I can relate.”

“You meet some real monsters out there.”

“Yep,” said Clarissa. “Some complete jerks.”

The drinks came, and Amber watched Clarissa pull the straw out of her glass and gulp the Sprite down. It had been so long since she’d spoken with someone who hadn’t been, as Glen would have put it, touched by darkness, that it now seemed weird to conduct a normal conversation.

Weird but nice.

Clarissa drained her Sprite and Amber pushed hers over. “Here. I’m not thirsty.”

Clarissa didn’t argue, but this time she kept the straw in and sucked at a more civilised pace. “Where you from?”

“Florida,” Amber said. “Orlando.”

“Disney World.”

“Yep.”

“Always wanted to go,” said Clarissa, “and my dad always said he was gonna take me. But then he got cancer, the kind they don’t cure. And, when he was gone, no one wanted to take me anywhere.”

“My parents are evil,” said Amber.

“That must suck.”

“So must losing a dad you actually love.”

“Yeah. Anyway, toilet break.”

Clarissa slid out of the booth. The moment she was gone, Amber’s demon-self slid in. Amber immediately looked at her hands.

“Think you’ve found a new friend, do you?” her demon-self asked. “I wouldn’t bother getting to know her. She’s going to abandon you. Like Kelly abandoned you, and Imelda abandoned you …”

“Milo’s still here,” Amber muttered, not raising her eyes.

Her demon-self grinned. “Did you really buy that bullshit? He’s waiting for payday. The moment he gets his money, he’s gone. Just like all the rest. But then they’re the lucky ones, aren’t they?”

“Shut up,” Amber mumbled.

“Unlike Glen,” her demon-self continued. “You meet this poor Irish boy in the woods, he thinks you’re going to help him, and what happens? He dies anyway, and comes back as a bloodthirsty corpse. You feel that gnawing sensation, in your belly? That’s what guilt feels like. Honestly, with a friend like you, does anyone really need enemies?”

Amber looked up to argue, but her demon-self was already gone.

Clarissa got back just in time for the burgers, and Amber ordered more Sprites.

“Something happen?” Clarissa asked.

“Sorry?”

“It feels like something happened while I was gone. You okay?”

Amber forced all thoughts of Glen to the back of her mind, and smiled. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Just thinking about stuff, that’s all. So do you have plans?”

“For world domination?” Clarissa responded with a mouth full of cheeseburger.

Amber smiled – genuinely, this time. “Or just in general.”

“Dunno.” Clarissa thought as she chewed. “Wouldn’t call them plans, I guess. More like hopes. Such as, I hope I don’t spend the rest of my life homeless. I hope I don’t die on the streets. I hope I get rich somehow. The usual hopes and dreams and idle fantasies, y’know?”

“Totally.”

Clarissa’s burger started to slide out of its bun. She frowned, tried to poke it back in with a French fry, then resorted to using a finger. “What about you?” she asked. “You ran away from home, you’re with a friend who watches your back, you’re staying in motels … You seem to be keeping it together more than most. What’s your plan?”

Amber looked puzzled for a few moments before she answered. “I … guess I want my freedom back. I agreed to do a job I didn’t want to do, and now I have to figure out how to trick my way out of it.”

“And how do you manage that?” Clarissa asked.

“I don’t have a clue. It’s a whole lot of trouble.”

Clarissa peered at her. “You’re, what, sixteen?”

“Seventeen tomorrow, actually.”

“Well, happy birthday for tomorrow, then. And you’re young – you’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you. You’ll be fine.”

“And how old are you?”

“Turned seventeen three months ago,” Clarissa said, grinning. “There’s no hope for me.”

They ate, and chatted, and Clarissa used the bathroom twice because of all the Sprite. Then Amber paid and they left the diner, emerged into the night air. They looked around, a little awkwardly, before Clarissa wiggled her eyebrows.

“Hey,” she said, “thanks for the food.”

Amber gave her a thumbs up, then felt stupid. “Sure,” she replied.

Clarissa nodded to the Charger. “Don’t suppose there’d be any room in that car for one more, would there? It gets pretty lonely out here and … Naw, forget it. The look on your face says it all.”

“I’m sorry,” said Amber.

“It’s fine,” Clarissa said, waving her hand dismissively. “It was a crappy thing to ask.”

“No, it wasn’t,” said Amber, “and I wish I could say yes. But the last person to hitch a ride with us … it didn’t end too great for him. We have a habit of getting into trouble.”

“I’m used to trouble.”

“Not like this you’re not.”

Clarissa shrugged. “Hey, forget it. Thanks for the food, and I’m sorry I tried to steal your bag.” She started walking.

Amber called after her. “Where you going?”

“Moving on,” Clarissa said, turning and walking backwards. “I’m that little doggy, y’know the one? Wherever I go, I make a new friend? That’s me.”

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

Clarissa spread her arms wide. “The world is my bedroom.”

“I thought the world was your bathroom.”

“It can get messy, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I’ll get you a room here.”

Clarissa laughed. “No, Amber, really, it’s fine.”

“Why not?” Amber said. “They’re cheap rooms, Clarissa, and I have the cash. What, you’ll take food off me, but not a bed for the night?”

Clarissa stopped walking, but shook her head. “I have principles.”

“Do your principles hate pillows?” Amber asked. “One night where you can sleep in a bed, behind a locked door? One night when you’re safe? Are you really going to turn that down?”

“Safety does sound nice …”

“Come on,” Amber said. “I’ll even get you a room with a shower.”

“A shower?” Clarissa said, skipping back to Amber. “For realsies?”

“For realsies.”

“Golly!”

They stepped into the manager’s office and Amber got Clarissa a room key.

“Meet you for breakfast in the morning?” Clarissa asked, swinging the keychain around her finger.

“We’ll probably be gone by then,” Amber said. “We tend to leave early.”

“Oh,” said Clarissa. “Well, okay then, so I guess this is goodbye.”

“Guess it is.”

They looked at each other.

“You’re a really nice person, Amber.”

“And you’re pretty cool.”

They hugged, and Clarissa went to her room and Amber strolled back to hers. But, right before she slid the key into the lock, she heard the fluttering of clothes from somewhere above.

Glen.

AMBER SHIFTED AND CLIMBED on to the Catching Z’s roof. She saw him watching her, pale in the saturated night. Thin. Had he always been this thin? She couldn’t be sure. The weak breeze didn’t stir so much as a strand of his brown hair. His face, frozen now in his eighteenth year, was mournful.

She moved towards him and he turned.

“Stop,” she commanded.

He hesitated, one foot over the edge of the building.

She bit her lip, and reverted. All horned up, she had a tendency to shoot her mouth off, but something like this required a little more empathy. “Why are you doing this?” she asked gently. “You’ve been following us since Cascade Falls. You followed us to Alaska and back. I’ve checked online. I’ve seen the reports in the towns we’ve passed through. I know you’ve been killing people.”

Glen didn’t move. Didn’t turn. Didn’t answer.

“Milo thinks you’re following us because Varga’s dead, and you don’t have a – a vampire family. Is that true? Is that why?”

She moved a little closer. “Glen, you helped me in Desolation Hill. You took care of Kirsty. Thank you for that. But you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep killing and you can’t keep following us. You helped me, but I can’t trust you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re going to do – if you’re going to help me or attack me. Maybe if you’d talk to me, you could make me understand.”

Glen offered no response.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be where you are right now,” Amber said, softening her voice. “Milo says … he says vampires don’t have a soul. Glen, if he’s right, I have no idea what you’re going through.”

A whisper passed on the breeze. She couldn’t be sure where it came from.

“I want to help you,” she said, “but I don’t know how. I don’t know if I’m able. Glen, I don’t even know if this is still you. I want to believe it is, but I’ve got no way of telling if you’re here because you feel you belong with us, or if you’re just obeying some vampire instinct. Help me. Talk to me.”

A moment passed, and Glen stepped off the edge and vanished.

Amber waited to see if he’d return, but after a few minutes she started to feel silly, and she went to her room and locked the door.

She showered, finally washing away the last of the bogle juice, and put on shorts and a T-shirt. She sat with her back against the headboard, iPad on her lap, and logged into the Dark Places forum.

TempestROCKS said …

Anyway, I gotta go to bed. Peace y’all!

Sith0Dude said …

Night, Temp!

Mad Hatter99 said …

Bye!

Ima gonna go 2.

The Dark Princess said …

Hiya

Sith0Dude said …

Don’t go, Hatter, there’s no one else chatting. I’ll be all alone.

Mad Hatter99 said …

Princess! Welcome back! Haven’t seen you in AGES!

The Dark Princess said …

Been busy! How you doing?

Sith0Dude said …

Hi, Dark Princess.

Mad Hatter99 said …

I’m good! Will I be seeing you at the con? It’s only 2 weeks away!

The Dark Princess said …

Don’t think so. I’d love to but might be on the other side of the country by then!

Hi, Sithy.

Mad Hatter99 said …

That SUCKS!

You spoken to BAC? I keep missing her.

The Dark Princess said …

Not surprised. Australia’s a day ahead of us or something.

Sith0Dude said …

BAC is from Australia? I thought she was from Austria.

Mad Hatter99 said …

Stupid timezones.

Sith0Dude said …

I keep talking German to her. No wonder she never replies.

Mad Hatter99 said …

You know German, Sith?

Sith0Dude said …

Sort of. Not very well. My uncle works part time as a Hitler impersonator.

Mad Hatter99 said …

Is there much demand for that?

Sith0Dude said …

Not really. It’s why he only works part time.

The Dark Princess said …

It’s late, guys, so I’m gonna go. Just popped in to say hi! Night now!

Amber powered off the iPad and raised her eyes to the TV. The son of a New York police chief had gone missing. Reporters feared the worst.

She switched off the TV, climbed into bed, turned off the light, and let her eyes close. Her thoughts drifted in the oasis of quiet in which she now found herself. So very quiet. So very incredibly, impossibly quiet.

Amber opened her eyes and looked at the window. Headlights swooped by. She couldn’t hear any engines, though. It must have been one thick window to block out that noise. Thick door, too. Hell, thick walls. In every cheap motel she’d been in, the walls were so thin the only thing keeping the ceiling from collapsing was the mould.

She turned over, closed her eyes again. Sleep caught her like a hand around the ankle, and dragged her down.

And, as she slept, she dreamed and, in her dream, Amber had a birthday party. They were in her house, back in Orlando. It was hot, and everyone was sweating.

Her parents were there, and a boy and girl around her own age that she didn’t recognise.

Her demon-self was also sitting at the table, looking bored. “Why do I have to be here?” she asked. “Your dreams are as dull as you are.”

Nobody paid her any attention. This was Amber’s special day, and Amber was beaming.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” said Betty. She started cutting the cake. Blood spilled out but nobody cared.

“Our little girl has grown up,” said Bill. “This is a big day. A momentous day. An important day. A succulent day. A mouth-watering day. A big, juicy day.”

He talked on, and Amber’s smile failed and she turned to her demon-self. “Who are they?” she asked, indicating the boy and girl.

Her demon-self sighed. “Don’t you know anything?” she said. “It’s James and Carolyn. Your brother and sister.”

“Oh,” said Amber.

James sat at the table with his head down. He had a collar around his neck, with a chain attached to it that Bill held like a leash. “I live in the attic,” he said.

Carolyn sat with a faltering smile on her face. She was wearing a light summer dress, and white gloves. “I live in my head,” she said.

“Where’s Molly?” asked James.

“What did they do with Molly?” asked Carolyn.

Betty pushed a plate across to Amber, spilling blood on the tablecloth. The slice of cake had a heartbeat, and, with every beat, more blood pumped out.

“Are you ready for your present?” Betty asked. “I know you wanted a pony.”

Amber frowned. “I never wanted a pony.”

“So we got you a pony,” said Betty.

“I don’t want one.”

“Bill, go fetch the pony, would you?”

Amber’s father, who had shifted into his demon form without Amber noticing, let go of the chain and went into the kitchen to fetch the pony.

With their father gone, James tore off the collar and bolted for a door that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Amber got up, went to the door, glanced into the kitchen to see her father eating a dead pony. She stepped through. She wasn’t in Orlando anymore. She was outside. The sun was shining and it was pleasant, and Amber wasn’t sweating.

She found James sitting beneath a tree with a blonde girl wearing an old-fashioned dress. She was teaching him to read.

Amber’s demon-self stood beside her. “They found each other,” she said. “He escaped and hopped on a train and off he went, exploring the outside world, and they found each other. Do you think it’s love? I think it’s love.”

A voice drifted by on the wind, someone calling for Molly.

The girl got up quickly. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll meet you back here tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, please,” said James, and held out the book for her to take.

“You keep it,” said the girl. “Practise.”

She smiled, then she ran off, and James smiled and looked at Amber.

“Her name’s Molly,” he said. “She likes me and I like her.”

“So I see,” said Amber.

“Tomorrow someone is going to snatch her,” said Amber’s demon-self.

James’s smile faded. “I know,” he said. “A tall man in black clothes. He drives a carriage for funerals.”

“A hearse?” Amber prompted.

“Yes,” said James. “A hearse. I’m going to help her. She’s the first person ever to be kind to me, and I like her so I’m going to help her.”

Amber nodded, and it was night and they were outside a wooden building with a sign that said STROMQUIST’S UNDERTAKERS & COFFIN MAKERS, and the undertaker, a tall man in black clothes, was walking towards them, his face twisted in anger.

Amber woke.

She thought about the dream, but her thoughts started to rebound in this quiet room. This unnaturally quiet room.

She got up, went to the window. Tapped it. Double-paned? Triple-paned? Something more? She went to each of the walls, rapped her knuckles against them. The sound was dull. Heavy. She stood in the middle of the room. So what? It was a motel beside a diner. Of course noise pollution would be a problem. Of course they’d have had to tackle it.

She clicked on the light and sat on the end of the bed, caught her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look convinced. She looked like there was something nudging at her thoughts.

Amber went over to the mirror. It was screwed to the wall. Okay. Made sense. Some people might want to steal a mirror. It could happen. It could even be a thing. Mirror-thieves, for example – that ever-growing threat to motel owners everywhere. Screwing the mirror in place was a perfectly acceptable thing to do and she accepted this. Although, by doing so, the motel owner did make it impossible to check behind the mirror. Not that there would be anything behind it. Nothing except more wall. Not a hole, that’s for sure. Definitely not a camera. Nope. This was just an ordinary mirror. Nothing two-way about it.

Amber sat back on the bed and looked at the mirror for another minute.

There was an ashtray on the nightstand, even though the motel was one big no-smoking area. It was heavy in her hand. Glass. Nice and thick. She threw it at the mirror and the mirror smashed.

“Yep,” she said softly to herself.

Behind the mirror was a hole in the wall. It was covered with more glass, and Amber had a pretty strong suspicion that it was glass as thick as the window. No camera, though, and no pervert standing there. She walked over and peered through. Beyond the hole was an unlit corridor.

She straightened. So the Catching Z’s manager liked to peep. Gross, an invasion of privacy, but okay. Probably liked to take pictures, too. Gross, gross, gross, but whatever. But there was still something more. Something extra.

Chasing a half-formed thought, she pulled back the sheets on the bed, exposing the mattress to the light. All the stains she would have expected, plus a whole bunch more. Darker too.

Dried blood. And lots of it.

AMBER COULDN’T SAY SHE was surprised. This was a motel on the Demon Road, after all. It was bound to have had the odd murder or two. Or three. Or whatever.

She pulled on a pair of jeans and sneakers and walked to the manager’s office. He wasn’t around. No one was. She went into the room at the back. A cluttered desk, an old computer, a broom closet and plenty of filing cabinets. Inside the broom closet were mops and buckets and a shelf full of bulbs and various bits and pieces one might need as the manager of a dirt-cheap motel such as this. But all of this stuff, every last thing, was on the left side of the closet. The right side was bare. Amber pressed her hand to the wooden wall and it rattled. She pushed, and the wall swung open.

She stepped through.

The corridor smelled of stale sweat and men. She passed the holes, peeking through each one she came to. She saw Milo, already asleep. He looked agitated. She knocked on the window, but he didn’t wake.

She heard someone cry out, and hurried round the next corner to a window as the lights came on. It was Clarissa’s room. Clarissa herself was curled up on the bed, clutching her hand.

There was a switch on the wall and Amber pressed it, and a door clicked open beside her. She pushed it wide – it was heavy – and Clarissa looked up, saw Amber come in, and jumped off the bed, wobbling slightly.

“What are you doing?” she shouted.

Amber tried to get her to calm down, but the door swung shut behind her. There was no handle. There was barely a seam.

“What’s going on?” Clarissa shouted again.

Amber turned back to her. “We may be in trouble,” she said.

“Where did you come from?”

“It’s the manager,” Amber said, “the guy from the front desk. He’s got a tunnel behind the rooms. He spies on people.”

“But why are you here?” Clarissa asked, panic edging her voice.