M.I.A.

Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Corey

I sit on a scratchy hotel coverlet, facing Sydney with the Ouija board in between us. John stands, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

"Is this going to work?" he finally asks.

Sydney flashes him an annoyed glare. He's been questioning the legitimacy of this method of communication since he saw me using the board, even though seeing should be all the proof he needs. Despite that, he purchased the board from the pawn shop and brought Sydney here so no one would see her using it.

Now, in the cheap motel room, the air conditioner buzzing, the shades drawn against passers-by, and the sound of the television blaring over the sound of sex next-door to us, I prepare for my interrogation.

Sydney places her fingers on the end of the cursor in proper Ouija board fashion. She gives an uncertain glance at John. "What should I ask it?"

Sighing heavily, John drops his arms and comes toward the bed. He crawls up and nearly sits on me as he puts his fingertips on the other side of the cursor and says, "Where is Mia?"

I find a place for my own fingers and shove them along, showing them the address. Halfway through John says, "I think it's an address."

Sydney's face brightens. "Oh, that's what those numbers were before!"

I finish the address.

John pulls his fingers away. "That's it then. This is where we need to go." He moves as if to get up off the bed.

Sydney reaches out and grabs his wrist. "Wait a second. I want to ask some more questions."

He shakes her off. "What for? We already know everything we need to know."

She frowns at him. It's obvious that she's disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm. I probably would be, too, if I was him. This is really creepy shit to a normal teen boy. "No, we don't. We don't know anything about what's going on at that address, what kind of situation we're walking into. We could end up getting killed or captured. We need to make a plan."

John stares at her for a long moment, his mouth open in stunned silence.

I smile at them. Wasn't he supposed to be mister careful and she the impulsive one? Strange turn of events.

He drops back onto the bed. "Okay."

Sydney licks her lips and puts her fingers back. "What is at that address?"

I say, "Farm," through the board. Then in the best shorthand, text-speak I can manage—because spelling everything out is obnoxious, "Cutter. Bad. Blood."

"Blood?" Sydney chokes, her eyes flashing to John's.

He hunches in, suddenly intent. "What? Is she hurt?"

I slide the cursor to "yes." Then at his expression of dismay add, "A-L-I-V-E." At least, I hope she's still alive.

Sydney says, "You said prisoner before. Were you talking about Mia?"

"Yes."

"She's being held captive, being hurt by someone? Who?"

"Cutter." Then for good measure, I add, "Bad. Evil. Killer."

Sydney makes a whimpering noise and I add, "Save Mia." Just in case she's starting to get cold feet.

John stares down at the board for a long moment. "How?"

I tell them my plan, which is very simple. "Noon. Cutter gone. Take Mia. Save."

John looks up at Sydney. They stare at each other for a long time before Sydney says, "We should tell the police."

John scoffs. "And say what? 'Oh gee, Officer, we were communing with the spirits last night and they've offered us ample reason to assume that your culprit is this guy Cutter who lives at this address? Oh, by the way, one of us is also a certifiable lunatic.' Fuck, Syd," he says, rising again and turning away from her, "I don't even believe this."

Sydney is quiet for a long time and when she speaks, there are tears in her eyes. "I'm not a lunatic."

John lets out a long sigh. "When are you going to admit you have a problem?"

She gnaws her lip. "I've done everything I'm supposed to. Gone to the doctor, taken the meds," she reasons, her voice a whine of frustration.

John rubs his eyes, shoving his hands through his hair. "I know. But it doesn't help our case for the cops. You're not a credible witness. You know that."

She puffs up a little, her eyes fiery. "This isn't my psychosis, John. This is real."

He shakes his head. "I just...this is too weird. Too convenient. I'm gonna wake up...I can't believe it."

"Well I do," Sydney blurts. "Besides, we have no other options, right?" She sits forward. "It's at least worth a try. We're going to at least try, aren't we?" Her expression is so desperate, she looks as though she's going to cry again.

John gives her an acid glare. "Of course I am. I'm just saying that without probable cause, there's nothing to go to the police with."

Sydney hugs herself, goose bumps breaking out on her skin despite the air conditioner's inability to properly cool a room. In the next room, a man groans in ecstasy over the whimpering of his female counterpart. Sydney looks down, hiding behind her curtain of dreads. "We're on our own then."

John slumps down on the other bed. "Yeah. We are."

***

Later that night, when Sydney thinks John is asleep—though I know he's not because no one in their right mind could sleep the night before breaking into a killer's house to save a torture victim—she grabs the Ouija board and tiptoes into the bathroom.