Forest of Rope

Chapter 29

'Hey remember when we first met?'

'I prefer not to,' Riley replied in between strides, struggling to keep up. They'd been following the trail for at least an hour and already he could feel fatigue settling in.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Alexis stopped to pout at him, her arms folded. For a moment she was a child again. Since she barred the way forward with her enormous rucksack he was forced to confront her and waste the precious momentum he had been building.

'You know what.'

Gradually, he saw the realisation wash through her emerald eyes.

'Oh... I was talking about High School. I almost forgot about all that.'

'Yeah.'

'Sorry,' she muttered quickly, going pink. 'Man, how old were we back then?'

'You were nine, or eight maybe. I was ten.'

'Jesus,' she murmured, clearly surprised. 'I barely remember any of it.'

                                                                               *

She might've forgotten but Riley would always remember that summer. As they continued along the trail he recalled the sweltering heat (the hottest summer in years) and heard the blare of Saturday morning cartoons accompanied by the baking stench of lilac and primrose that reeked across the drive. And like background noise he remembered his parents arguing. Like a haunting he saw his father: young, healthy and carefree. His mother appeared next, his real mother that is. He could already hear her half-heartedly remonstrating him for spying on the next-door neighbours. She kept a cup of muddy coffee in one hand and a pile of laundry in the other.

'You really shouldn't do that kiddo.'

She was a writer, or so he'd pieced together from the odd conversation with his father years later after everything had happened. She'd recently been laid off from a decent job writing twice-weekly editorials for the second biggest newspaper in the state. When that crashed and burned she started spending a lot more time at home drinking coffee. Or at least it had appeared to be coffee to a ten year old.

'If I get another call from Mrs Moore about you consider your butt grounded.' She tried to be stern but couldn't quite manage it. She barely had enough energy to do anything these days.

'Mr Henshaw said they're vampires.'

'Mr Henshaw is teasing.'

'It's still true though.'

It was true though. The house was as good as a crypt. Silent. Undisturbed. No one went in, no one came out. No one except for that strange thin girl who, very conspicuously, only appeared to take out the trash after the sun had gone down and after the garbage men had already come and gone. Only they wanted everyone to think that it was plain, ordinary garbage! With an awkward, private twinge of embarrassment Riley recalled a daring midnight raid.

Slowly, cautiously, he'd slinked out in the dead of night, into the glacial white purity of the moon. As quiet as he was he'd been extremely conscious of the involuntary scrape of his soles against the cooling asphalt as he approached the trash cans. Terrified of being discovered yet determined to uncover the truth he'd expertly removed the lid and gently unknotted the black sacks that were sure to contain the inedible remains of their latest victims. Only they weren't in there, only the rot and stench of ordinary trash. Clever trick!

He resealed the bags and dropped the lid clumsily back onto the can with bitter disappointment. A harsh clang echoed across the Avenue met with a hoarse cough, a man. Riley started and sprinted back to his front porch. In the darkness of the Moore's garden a figure materialised from the shadows to inspect the noise. Riley darted behind a lawn chair and counted the beats of his racing heart. After a while he heard the muffled punch of earth splitting and the sound of soil being sifted into a pile. While remaining hidden he glimpsed the figure wield a scythe-like spade, digging the earth. In the middle of the night? So the victims weren't in the trash after all! Those poor souls...