Swamp Monster Love

Chapter 6: Disappearance

At the pond, it was pretty obvious, after a few moment's reflection, what had happened. I just couldn't imagine how Chip had gotten Todd to agree to something so stupid and cruel. (Without me noticing, I mean.) I raced back toward the cars, branches whipping my face. Twice I tripped headlong into the mud. By the end it was less like racing and more like brisk limping.

All the better for Chip. I was sure he was back at the cars, laughing, practicing his stupid voice. Maybe he'd even brought Christine along to show her how hopeless I was, to humiliate me completely. It's exactly the kind of thing he would do. And why else would her car be there when she was not?

I tried to compose myself before coming back into the open space of the parking lot. I even managed a crooked smile, as if I found it very funny that I was bruised and covered in mud and slime and centuries-old decaying Neanderthal/girl scout/taco remains.

I needn't have bothered. Both cars – Christine's and Todd's – were still there. No people were. I checked the jeep. Todd's phone was still under the seat, so I knew he hadn't gone far. The thing's like his umbilical.

"Todd?

"Christine?

"Stupid jerk Chip?"

Nothing.

After a brief twinge of conscience, I checked Christine's car. It was unlocked. It smelled really, really good inside, like vanilla and some kind of berry I think. Passion fruit probably. It was a lot cleaner than the jeep. A pile of clothes and a towel sat on the passenger seat, neatly folded. An envelope was taped to the steering wheel.

To be read in the event of my disappearance.

Disappearance?

I whipped around, checking behind me, now actually wanting this to be a joke. It was a horror-movie moment, my body and blood and soul shivering uncontrollably. If this was a joke, it was far beyond anything Chip could come up with.

I took the envelope off the steering wheel, then hesitated. It was sealed.

Hansen's Pond is at least a mile from the main road, another five from town. There are no buildings nearby. The dirt lane leading out is nearly as scary as the boardwalk. Todd had his keys. Christine probably had hers. Anyway, I couldn't see them.

Opening the letter would have meant accepting the idea that Christine, and Todd too, had disappeared in a permanent and possibly otherworldly way. I shoved the envelope into my pocket, muttered a few curses to steel my courage, and walked back toward the pond.