Zero Worship: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #6

Chapter 7 - Ursa Major Pain

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Chad wears the chain like a necklace on the way to the empty lot. The walk feels more like a hike, with Zandra's bad ankle setting the pace. Bexley and Chad perk up after chugging energy drinks they brought along from "grandma's house." They neglected to grab one for Zandra, although she would've turned down the offer.

I can smell the fakey medicine flavor from here. How did these things get so popular smelling like cough medicine made in a bathtub?

Chad gathers the empties and tosses them onto a storm grate a half-block from the empty lot.

"Pick that shit up," Zandra says in a huff.

"But they're empty and there isn't a trash can around," Chad says.

Whatever sympathy I had for you a few hours ago is gone, Chad. You're back on the idiot list.

"You're basically leaving a sign that says, 'We were here.' Pick them up," Zandra says.

Bexley joins in. "Yeah, and they can pull our DNA and stuff off the cans."

Thanks, Bexley, but you're still guilty by association, too.

It's 10:30 p.m. when they arrive at the empty lot. The night does little to swallow their shadows, since the streetlights are all on. However, in Wisconsin—as with the rest of the Midwest—10:30 p.m. is considered late. Anything that happens afterward may as well happen at midnight, even in the summer.

And that means there shouldn't be too many witnesses.

"In we go," Zandra says and starts into the small patch of woods that make up the empty lot. "Keep your flashlights turned off."

"I didn't bring a flashlight," Chad says.

I didn't think you would, but I thought I'd mention it on the infinitesimally small chance you thought ahead and brought one.

The empty lot offers plenty of options to remain concealed without compromising the view of the street. Shadows cast by the trees keep the streetlights from illuminating the brush below. Zandra gets into position, with Chad and Bexley flanking either side of her.

"I feel like we're in a spy movie," Bexley says.

Zandra raises a nicotine-stained index finger to her lips.

In spy movies, they don't talk unless they absolutely need to, Bexley.

The silence only lasts for a minute.

"What are we doing here again?" Chad says in a whisper.

Making sure you're never qualified to be a spy, apparently.

I'd stay quiet, but if I don't answer him, he's only going to ask more questions.

"We're waiting for someone to park on the street and walk to the dead end where the cul-de-sac is," Zandra says.

"Oh, right," Chad says. "And then what?"

"Then we go to the house at the cul-de-sac and get a good look at whoever that person is," Zandra says.

"Right. OK," Chad says.

"Feel free to be quiet now," Zandra says as quietly as she can.

"OK, I won't talk anymore. Sorry, Zandra. Sometimes I don't know when to shut up. I'll be quiet from now on. I promise," Chad says.

Bexley does a "zip it" motion across her lips toward Chad, but it's too dark for him to see. Zandra shuts him up with an elbow to the side.

The three wait and watch. Zandra fights the exhaustion tugging at her eyelids. The energy drinks keep Chad and Bexley alert but bored. Zandra can almost feel them tense up in an effort not to fidget.