This Was A Bad Idea

chapter 5 - the creek

I follow the address that Xen plugged into my phone, towards this obscure street. The air is brisk and smelling of fall as the crisp leaves shift underneath my feet. The houses are more run-down here, the wood siding on the outside faded and washed out to a muted gray.

The thin porches sag on their foundations, the front lawn consisting of scrubby patches of yellowed grass. It's like the clean intersecting lines of suburbia have faded here, leaving sad, sullen houses. A patched american flag waves at the front of one, hanging limp like an old dishrag. I grimace. The tiredness is so imminent here, the exhaustion so prominent.

I wonder if I've been set up. If their kindness was just a ruse to dump this newcomer in a crappy street. I turn around in a slow swivel. I haven't seen anyone yet. Dead leaves scuttle across the pavement, their thin spines cracking in the wind.

Fear starts to work its way through the edges of my brain, chewing through my nerves like acid. I approach the spot that the red dot on my phone points towards.

A thin alleyway crunched between two crumbling houses. The walls of each tired building form the sides. A few overstuffed trash bags sit idly at its entrance. I can see the thin line of torn fencing at the end and what leads into a small, overgrown path.

This looks like a setup. A dare to see if I'm stupid enough to go into this run-down alley, this sad little path through a brush of pathetic woods.

I take a shuddering breath, the toes of my shoes brushing up against the curve. I take a step forward, square my shoulders, and descend into the narrow alleyway.

"Hey, Onion!" a voice cries out just as I approach the line of torn fencing. Sam. I surveyed the broken wire. The edges are sharp and roughly cut, revealing a jagged space that a person can slide through.

My head snaps towards the direction of the voice. I cringe at the awefull nickname. I take one last look at the cramped street and push my way into the overgrown crevice. The path is small, only big enough for a single person at a time. I have to sidestep curled tree roots and branches that scratch at my exposed hands and neck. The air seems to drop ten degrees, a chill descending into the tight space. I step over sticks that crack under my footsteps like bones.

"Sam?" I venture aloud.

"Hey, you're almost there!" I hear her call out. My steps carry me forward, heart pounding with uncertainty. There's a break in the foliage. I emerge in a thin clearing, the trail sloping down into a smooth carpet of loose gravel and rocks that forms the bank of the creek. A smooth flow of water cuts through the gray. An actual creek, one that's seemingly hidden.

"Onion, huh?" I raise an eyebrow.

"You don't like it?" Sam's standing there, arms at her sides. Xen is with her.

"No, not at all." I laugh. "You suck at nicknames."

"You made it!" Xen exclaims. "I was worried you'd think we set you up. It's creepy as hell, the entrance to this place. But we've got it all to ourselves." She extends a hand, the edges of her short hair gelled into little spikes. I give her a tentative grin.

"Elliot's late. As always." Sam rolls her eyes. We all stand awkwardly, staring at the smooth flow of water over rocks

"How'd you cut the fence?" I finally ask, looking for any words to fill the silence.

"Oh, we didn't cut it. We found it like that." Sam explains, dropping a blue backpack to their feet. It hits the ground with a muffled thump. "A bunch of seniors used this place as a party ground, or so I'd heard. When they all graduated, no one else took over it. So we come here occasionally. No one ever comes here, which is weird. It was so popular like a few years ago, when I was a freshman." Sam gives a slight shrug and starts digging through her backpack. I can't see what's inside.