Happenstance ⌱ Jim Hopper

[ 6 ] (JODIE) CAN'T FAIL

[ 6 ]

"HOLY FUCK; what the hell was that?!" 

     Jodie and Joyce scrambled out of the house, the lights inside flashing on and off, the creature clawing out from the walls. Jodie's heart was thumping in her ears, and she wielded her switchblade knife out in front of her like a little, useless sword. 

     Throwing open the door to her car, Joyce motioned for Jodie to follow her into the dismal safety, hunched over and hands quivering. "Get in! Get in!" She waved frantically, eyes wide and scouring the area as the house continued to flicker.  

       But, Jodie's mind was racing. They needed help, and they needed it fast. 

       They needed the police, as much as the thought sickened her. Jodie turned back to the ominous house. The only phone was inside, and it was probably fried from the coursing electricity that had rocked through Joyce. Jodie felt sick. The thing in that house wasn't natural, and she didn't want to get close enough to it to find out what the hell it was: a ghost, a daemon, or otherwise. 

     She tightened her grip on her little blade. 

      "Jodie?" Joyce whispered out the window of the car. 

      Frowning, Jodie quickly pat down the pockets of her jeans, looking for change, heart beating inside her like a caged beat as she tried to think, tried to think, tried to think. The thought that she had been trying to form finally popped into his mind. "Joyce!" Jodie lowered herself down to the window and peered at the desperate mother. "Where's the nearest call box?" 

       "Th-there's one down the highway a little—"

        "—Stay in your car!" Jodie yelled to Joyce, running down the road, knife swinging in her clenched fist. The adrenaline in her veins helped combat the alcohol, and while she hadn't drunk enough to be plastered, she was a little buzzed. And, buzzed Jodie didn't run. Buzzed, scared out of her mind Jodie, however, apparently did.

       Joyce called out in shock, trying to get Jodie to seek cover in her car, but Jodie was already at the end of the road, and she wasn't planning on stopping until the police came.

        Her lungs were burning by the time Jodie reached the call box on the highway, sweat pooling against the back of her thick sweater. Jodie's fingers trembled as she set her knife, still open, on top of the box, just in case something snuck up behind her. Yanking the phone from its hook, Jodie fished a couple coins from her pocket and pushed them into the machine. In the little drawer beneath the machine, Jodie eyed the phone book with a pause.

      A single, quivering, pale finger hovered over the '9' on the dial pad, but Jodie quickly changed her mind, tossing the phone book open and scanning down the list of names. She found the number almost immediately and punched it in, heart in her throat.