Two Worlds of Blood and Power

Chapter Seven - From Cub to Lioness

Whispering Woods
June 2006

I've been driving as fast as I can, five over the speed limit. The lone highway into Whispering Woods is overlong and void of any streetlights or exits, a one way shot to the sticks and beyond.
     When I finally turn on our street, I immediately slow down to nearly cruising speed and turn on my high beams. Squinting into the darkness to no avail, I become frustrated. As usual, there's not a soul around, nor a flicker of light. Avery could be lying dead in a ditch six feet away from me and I wouldn't be able to see her. Before I decide to panic, I make my way home.
     When I park under the carport, I waste no time rushing to the backdoor barefooted, concrete biting at my soles. It's dark and empty inside, the lack of noise kickstarting my heart into a frenzy. Avery isn't here.
     I rush upstairs two at a time with my dress skirt clenched in my hands. Her door is open, her light is off, and that worries me enough to slow my steps, apprehensive about what I'll find. If she's lying on the bed unconscious, or worse, I don't know what I'll do. I can't fathom the thought.
     When I flip the switch and her room alights, bittersweet relief washes over me. She's not here either. I stroll inside, looking over every inch of her messy room until one mess in particular catches my eye. Bits and pieces of plastic and wire, the base and receiver of her phone strewn about. That's not a good sign, but I have a hunch about what may have caused it, and where she might've gone.
     I hustle back downstairs, slipping on some dirtied white flip-flops left beside the backdoor, then I make my way over to the shed several yards from the house. It's also empty, just as I anticipated.
     After reacquiring my car keys, I'm rolling back down my driveway and turning right onto my street again. Brightest headlights on, I cruise until I spot a small tin mailbox on the right-hand side, then pull into Roman's driveway. There's no gravel to quell the potholes and erosion, but when I finally get past the bumpy drive and pull into their parking square, my heart drops before it soars up my throat. Avery's motorbike isn't here.
     Once parked, I practically jogged up to his tiny porch that's only big enough for one person to stand. My knuckles frantically knock on the door with not a care in the world about what time it is, half past eleven, and I'm praying that his mom isn't jarred awake.
     I can hear heated, stifled voices beyond the paper-thin front door, but I can hear well enough to make out the phrase, "I swear to God, if it's that crazy bitch, we're fighting." My hands clutch to my chest as panic courses through my blood like a swarm of bees. Avery isn't here either.
     The door violently swings open as if it's about to be ripped off its hinges. Rose appears before me, dressed in navy gym shorts with a loose hanging, dingy white tank top that has a sunset scene printed on it. She cut her hair into a pixie style since the last time we saw each other in passing during school, and I rather like the new edge to her. She's a year younger than us all, and she never cared to hang out with us or other peers her own age. Since graduating in May, she's no longer shy or withdrawn, and her husky voice is more direct than it used to be, not so hushed. Her face morphs from riled bobcat to inquisitively passive.
     "Zoella," she says breathlessly. "I didn't expect to see you here so late... and dressed like that. Come in," she moves aside to let me enter, then softly closes the door.
     Roman is sitting up on a disheveled bed that pulls out from the couch in the living room, the tiny kitchen is shadowed to my right, and a short hallway to a couple of bedrooms leads to the left. There's a small round table with four fold-out chairs surrounding it, and Rose takes a seat. I'd sit down for tea and pleasantries, but decorum be damned right now.
     I rush forward and Roman rises to meet me, dressed in sweatpants and nothing else, concern etched in the soft lines of his face. "What's going on, Zoella?"
     Tears begin to well up, but I hold them back from spilling for now. "Have you seen Avery... since earlier?" My voice comes out strained.
     "No offense, Zoella, but I told your sister to fuck off. We no longer welcome her," Rose says casually.
     "Zip it, Ross," Roman scolds, and she puts her hands up in mock surrender with a smirk. I look at his sister, then back at him, then back at her, confused but not caring to question it right now.
     "She called hours ago, but it didn't go well," Roman says as he rubs at the back of his neck, shoulders tense. "Why, what's up?" he asks, taking a seat next to who I now suppose is Ross.
     I slump into the closest empty metal chair, borderline hyperventilating on the way down. My chest feels steamed inside, face heating too.
     Roman sits up straighter, eyes piercing mine. "Zoella, tell me what's wrong. Now."
     He's never seen me under such duress, having only been around me when I'm under Gavin's arm or around the house with Avery.
     "Mr. Hamby called me and said Avery didn't show up for work. She's not at home, and that bike you got her isn't there either. Something's wrong, Roman. I feel it." I toss my cluttered keyring on the table in exasperation, attempting to breathe evenly, and struggling not to be hysterical. "She's gone, I just know it, and she knew it too. We talked about Tammy, remember Tammy the singer? Well, she's been missing, a lot of people have been missing lately. And Avery knew, she said she wouldn't be surprised if she were next and... and the last thing I said to her was that she's hopeless." I choke on a sob.
     Roman listens intently, and surprisingly, Ross does too. They both share a look of concern, but also a bit of disbelief.
     "Are you sure she didn't just arrive at Hamby's later than usual? Maybe after boss-man already left," Roman asks gently.
     "Yeah, or maybe that rust bucket broke down on the way. We heard it drive by earlier," Ross remarks.
     "He would've called me if Avery showed up to get the keys to get in, but..." I look to Ross as a sliver of hope crawls over me. "That could be plausible."
     I grab the fluffy, pink poof ball attached to my keyring and fumble around for the key that starts my car. "How many flashlights do you have? The bigger the better. I can drive while y'all hang out the windows—"
     "Nope. No way. Count me the fuck out. It's late, I'm tired, and I don't even like that girl," Ross says with determined eyes and crossed arms.
     "Come on dude, don't be so harsh," Roman attempts to placate.
     "No. Give me one good reason why I should take my sorry ass out there in the dead of night to play search party for someone I can't stand?" Ross says with intense eyes darting between me and Roman for an answer.
     So, before Roman can speak, I decide to give her an honest-to-heart answer. "Because she's still a person. She may not mean much to you guys anymore, but she matters to me. And I know you're a good person, and you have a heart too. I know it. You may not like someone, but that doesn't mean you wish them dead, right?" Then, I look at Roman. "Avery treated you wrong a lot of times, I know, but she has always cared about you in some confusing way and I'm sure you still care about her too...in some way."
     "I didn't need a reason," Roman says with a kind smile. "You don't have to convince me to make sure Avery is safe," he looks to Ross with an eyebrow raised.
     "Oh. Okay. Great. Now if I say no, then I'll be the heartless asshole," Ross sneers, arms opening in defeat. "Fine. Let's do this. And let's hurry it up. I'm starting my internship with the paper in the morning, so I'd like to actually sleep well for once."
     I sigh softly with gratitude shining in my eyes and a hopeful grin on my face. "Thank you," I look at them both. "Truly."
     After Ross changed into some sweatpants and Roman put on a shirt, we started walking single file out of the backdoor that stands near the sleeper couch.
     This place is so woefully cramped it feels like I don't even have enough space to cough. The all-over wood panels are stained and cracked, same as the paper-thin carpet and linoleum, light fixtures are chipped, and the kitchen—if it can even be called that—looks like it's barely bigger than a doormat. Roman's height nearly brushes the ceiling, he has to slightly turn himself to get through the door frame, and he's camped out on the couch-bed so that his mom and sister can have the only rooms in the house. When all is well again, I mentally vow to help them where I can.
     The beaten woodshed he's now rummaging around in is much worse, and barely holding up. It fits all of Roman plus half of Ross, and I'm left standing out here like an agitated garden gnome.
     "There's a whole bin of nothing but flashlights in here," Roman calls out.
     "Along with a bunch of other weird shit," Ross grumbles.
     The flashlights that work make a strobe effect that creates rays of light that I can see through the many cracks and crevices of the shack, and once they went through them all, we end up with four that work adequately enough.
     Roman and Ross crawled into the back seat of my four-door Civic holding two flashlights each, both of them on either side of the car. The plan is that I'll cruise while they hang out each window shining their lights into the thick darkness, straining eyes for any sign of Avery and calling out for her like a lost pet. Hopefully we catch her walking down the road and we can give her an awkward ride home. That's the best-case scenario.
     "Let's get this show on the road. Boot and rally!" Roman declares like a high rank captain, lessening some of the tension.
     Ross laughs like a crow, and I can't help but to lift the corner of my lip. What an odd trio we form.
     I got us onto our street, idly drifting except for the occasional tap on the gas. Roman calls out Avery! and Ross calls out Where You At Bitch! in a booming voice that could echo to the heavens.
     Should I be offended by the derogatory terms Ross hurls against my sister? Maybe it makes me a lousy twin, not standing up for her, but they're here to help me regardless of how they feel about her and I'm grateful enough for that to not care about my sister being called a female-dog in a variety of colorful ways. In any case, what another person thinks about me or Avery is none of my business nor my concern. All that matters to me is my family's well-being.
     We rode all the way to Ole Hamby's with not a soul or vehicle in sight. Any ounce of hope I once held melts like ice cream in my hands.
     I'm hugging the steering wheel, peering every which way in front of me, wishing Avery to appear like a deer in headlights. Roman and Ross maintain their positions and continue shining their lights outward and to the forest, but there is no Avery in the zoetrope of trees and mile markers.
     Every mile back home grates at my heart. I don't want to go up my driveway alone, and I can't imagine going to sleep without knowing if my sister is okay.
     "Can't we just do this in the daylight? We can't see shit, Zoella. It's not like she has her thumb out on the side of the road," Ross gripes.
     "Then we'll make a second round," I reply indifferently, already slowing down for a three-point turn in the middle of the road.
     "Have you lost your marbles?" Ross exclaims, fury lacing her tone.
     "Okay, let's all just chill out," Roman speaks like a camp counselor. "Zoella, stop the car."
     Reluctantly, and with aggravation wracking my nerves, I do as he requests, resting my forehead on the steering wheel with my hands still gripped at ten and two. I don't bother with pulling over, choosing to brake here in the middle of this barren asphalt strip.
     "We can't go back home without her," my voice comes out tired and dejected. "We just can't."
     Roman huffs as he opens the backseat door, moving himself into the passenger's seat and forcing my gaze. "It's not like we're giving up—"
     "—I am," Ross mumbles.
     "We just have to consider other options instead of running around in circles," Roman continues as if uninterrupted. "Maybe she made it home by now. Maybe she drove to Elanis. Or hell, maybe she's cruising the back roads right now. We need to figure something out before we waste any more time. That's it."
     With a deep breath through my nose, I look at them both and relent. It's not like holding them hostage here will make any difference. "Alright, I'll take y'all home."
     "Finally," Ross groans.
     "Don't worry, she'll show up. She always does," Roman says with a shoulder shrug and forced smile, as if he's trying to believe his own words.
     I nod, then we ride on.