Chapter 8

Danny looked at Clay. He could tell the guy thought he was a nutcase. He tried to think of an explanation for why he’d said he’d seen his dead cousin in the window. He came up with nothing. Except…

He wiped his sweaty palms on his chest. A person out of their mind would say that. A crazy homeless bum would say something just like that, peering out from his cardboard box on the sidewalk, screaming, “My dead cousin is alive! Look, there she goes!”

Danny looked at the window where he’d seen Gloria. There was nothing but a dark empty street. He cringed, remembering Gloria’s face pressed up against the window, her broken cheekbone showing through the torn flesh under her left eye. How she’d looked straight at him and smiled.

Hadn’t Aunt Marie said that the left side of Gloria’s face was injured in the accident?

A tingle went up his back. That’s exactly what he’d seen. The left side of her face, all smashed up. Her funeral was a closed casket. He’d never actually seen her face after the accident, so how had he conjured up her injuries? Was it possible she wasn’t dead?

He remembered when he got home after the funeral, how he cracked a beer, sat at the kitchen table, and told Linda he couldn’t believe Gloria was dead. She was such a good person. He’d loved her for so many things.

How she’d show up on random Friday nights, holding a pizza in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

How she’d drag him and Linda out to watch a movie——something scary or a chick flick.

How she’d laugh and act like nothing in the world could touch her.

Those were the days.

He looked at the front window and touched the side of his face, the side that Gloria tore up in her accident.

Her face had looked so messed up. So…

“What are you doing?”

Danny broke out of his reverie. He lowered his hand slowly, staring at it.

“You’re freaking me out,” Clay said. “You okay?”

He looked at Clay. “I don’t know.” He pointed at the window. “I swear, I saw my cousin. Gloria. She’s dead, but she was right there, looking at me. Her face was all messed up and she…”

Clay walked toward him, slow and careful, hands raised. “Just take it easy. It’s been a long night, man. Could’ve been anything. Probably your reflection.”

Danny could tell Clay was spooked. It was there in the way he kept nodding, his eyes shifting from Danny to the window and back again. And in the bravado he tried to bring into his voice as he said, “Listen, it don’t matter what you saw. Vincent’s coming. He’ll be here any minute. He’s gonna open that front door and I’m gonna give him his money and you’re gonna go hide in the back until he leaves. At least that’s my recommendation. But, until that happens, I don’t want to hear no more ‘bout no dead cousin looking through the window, got it? Things are weird enough in here without talking about seeing dead people.”

Danny nodded. He lifted the trash can off the floor. “I won’t say another word about it.” Setting the trash can upright, he picked up spilled garbage, stuffing it in the can. When he was finished, he straightened and looked around the store. The fluorescent lights buzzed. The compressor cooling the beer, wine and soda cases hummed. Everything had the semblance of reality. But it was too quiet. There were no customers. The doors wouldn’t unlock. The phones didn’t work. Blood appeared on Clay’s face when the lights flickered. And someone—maybe Gloria, maybe not—had appeared in that window. A spooky vibe ran through him, tingling up his spine.

Something was off.

He walked to the window to pick up a styrofoam cup and felt a stab of pain in his side. His pulse pounded in his ears. He went down to one knee. He braced his hands on the floor, overcome by the strange feeling that he was dissipating. That his molecules were spreading out through the room. The far-off sound of Clay saying, “Hey, you alright?” focused his attention. It gave him something to hang on to. He lifted his head and felt his weight sift back into him, settling into his bones. He looked at Clay. “That was weird. I felt like I was, I don’t know, not here.”

Clay’s brow furrowed. “Well, you are here. Drink some water or something. You don’t look good.”

Exhaling a big, cleansing breath, Danny picked a used coffee cup off the floor. He shoved it into the trashcan, dragged the can past Clay and set it next to the brewing station. Then he walked over to the counter and grabbed the brown paper grocery bag.

“Long as we’re here, why don’t we talk about this?” he said, turning the bag upside down. Thick, rubber-banded stacks of money spilled on the floor.

Clay cursed and strode over. He snatched the bag from Danny, kneeled down and started shoving the money back into it, mumbling, “I told you, Vincent made me rob you. Best thing you can do is just forget about this money.”

Danny picked up a thick wad of twenty-dollar bills. It felt heavier than he thought it would. Holding it in front of his face, he thumbed through the bills.

Clay held out his hand. “Gimme that.”

Danny held the money out of Clay’s reach. “No. You’re a thief. Why can’t I be one?”

In an instant, Clay was on his feet. Danny saw bits of leaves and dirt in Clay’s hair as Clay came toward him, pushing him against the counter. The faint, coppery smell of blood wafted off him.

“I’m not a thief,” Clay said. “Your boss made me steal this money. And if he hears you took any of it, he’ll make you do stuff too. That would be… awww hell—whatta they call it?”

He leveled his gaze on Danny.

“Oh yeah,” he said, eyes lighting up. “It’ll be ‘poetic justice.’ I’m not a bad guy. I’m just a guy that couldn’t pay off a bet fast enough. Go on and take that money. You’ll see what happens.”

Then Clay turned away, kneeled, and went back to shoving stacks of money into the bag.

The thick wad of twenty-dollar bills was heavy in Danny’s hand. He watched Clay stuff the last stack of money into the bag. Clearing his throat, Danny held the money out. Clay opened the bag. Danny dropped it in.

“Sorry about calling you a thief,” Danny said.

Clay shook his head. “You have no idea about your boss. He’d do anything for money.”

Nothing in Clay’s demeanor or posture marked the possibility of a lie to Danny. He held out his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m Danny. As long as we’re stuck here together, let’s try to make the best of this, okay?”

Danny left his hand hanging out there long enough to think about pulling it back before Clay’s strong grip closed over his knuckles. “Nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout sticking a gun in your face.” Clay grinned and then pulled his hand away, touching his temple. “I got the worst headache. Do you remember what happened after I stole the money? I know I ran out of here, but I don’t know where I went or why I came back.”

Before Danny could reply, the bells on the front door rang. He stepped toward the front of the store, and then stopped as Clay grabbed his arm.

“It’s probably Vincent,” whispered Clay. “Go in the back office and lock the door. I’ll tell him I locked you in there, I’ll give him the money, and then I’ll leave. All you gotta do is say I robbed you. Act like it just happened and everything will be fine.”

Clay walked up the main aisle of the store with the bag of money.

From Danny’s vantage point, there was no way to tell who’d come in. The front door was to the right of the main aisle. Anyone coming in had to take a step around a short wall before the person at the counter could see them. Three-quarters up the aisle, Clay froze. Danny could see something was wrong. He walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

Clay spoke so softly Danny couldn’t hear him. He leaned in closer. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Did you see that?’”

“See what?”

Clay pointed toward the end of the aisle. “You didn’t see something move over there?”

The air temperature dropped. Danny shivered. “I didn’t see anything.”

Clay opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. Vapor curled out of his mouth. A strange feeling came over Danny. He felt like he was floating, weightless and invisible, while the world spun around him. Overwhelmed by the feeling that he had to hold onto something, he grabbed Clay’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Danny whispered, his voice trembling. “If someone came in the front door, that means it’s open. We should just leave.”

Clay looked toward the beer and wine aisle. “Go see if it’s open. I’ll be right out. I just gotta see who came in. If it’s one of Vincent’s guys, and he sees us leaving with this money, we’re dead.”

Clay shoved the bag of money in his coat. He grabbed a jar of salsa off the nearest shelf and shuffled forward, ready to brain someone with it as he disappeared around the end of the aisle.

Danny knew he needed to check the front door, but his feet wouldn’t move. He shivered, his breath puffing out in clouds of vapor. Someone—or something—came in here. He could feel it.

Throat tight, he started down the aisle. His side ached. He blew into his hands to warm them. If the door was open, he was out of here.

The bells on the front door rang again. Danny froze. The end of the aisle was a step away. One step and he’d be able to see who opened the door. The door shushed closed. Soft footsteps walked into the store toward him. He took a step back. Then another. A figure appeared at the end of the aisle.

It was her. His dead cousin, Gloria. She held her hand out and walked toward him.

“Danny,” she said. “Come with me. If I got in, they can get in. You have to leave before they get here.”

Danny stood wide-eyed and silent. It was Gloria. Beautiful Gloria. He wanted to grab her and hug her so hard she’d break. She was perfect. Long, wavy, dark, hair. Big, brown eyes. Heart-shaped face. The left side of her face was fine, not all messed up like he’d seen through the window. He pressed his hand against his aching side. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like a refrigerator was on his chest.

Gloria reached out and touched his hand. “C’mon Danny. We have to go.” Her warm fingers closed over his. She pressed his hand against her chest. “Trust me. I’m here to help you.”

And then she smiled. It was all he needed. He’d seen it a thousand times before. A little crooked and a little mischievous, but all love. The same smile she showed when they’d played in the streets as kids.

His side hurt like hell as he started walking, his breath wheezing in and out. At the end of the aisle, he saw the front door open slightly from a gust of wind and then bang shut. Gloria led him to the door and pulled it open.

“We need to go,” she said.

Danny looked over his shoulder. “There’s someone else in here. I can’t leave him.” He looked over the aisles toward the beer coolers.

The aisles seemed empty. Then he caught a flash of movement in the fisheye mirror hanging in the back corner of the store. A stretched-out funhouse version of Clay, crouched in the beer aisle, still holding the jar of salsa, his head swiveling back and forth.

“Clay!” Danny yelled. “We have to go!”

Danny watched Clay straighten out of his crouch and take a step forward. And behind him, Danny saw something. Not a person. A shadow. It wavered and then sharpened and solidified. Danny’s heart pounded. It moved toward Clay. Danny bolted toward Clay and screamed, “Run!”

Danny’s hip caught the salsa display as he ran. Jars shattered behind him. He skidded to a stop next to a display of beef jerky anchoring the end of the refrigerated section. Clay ran straight into him, nearly bowling him over. Danny grabbed Clay and said, “Let’s go. We gotta…”

The thing following Clay came into view.

It was black—nothing but black. Arms lifted from its sides. The lights flickered, then dulled to gray. The thing tipped its head back and opened its mouth.

Danny’s legs were rubber. Clay’s whimpering didn’t help. The thing reached for them. A smell of rot—of two-week-old roadkill—overwhelmed Danny. The thing grabbed both of them, pulling them toward its mouth.

“They are not yours!”

At the sound of Gloria’s voice, the thing released Danny. He stumbled to the side as Gloria pushed past him and Clay to face the foul-smelling thing. She stepped toward it. One step. Two steps. It backed away. Danny marveled. She was so small, pointing at the thing, backing it up a step at a time.

“Get back,” she growled.

A keening sound came from the thing as she took another step toward it. It was an odd sound, like electrical static.

“They are not yours,” Gloria said, fury in her voice. “You know they’re not yours.”

The thing’s high-pitched scream raised an octave as she stepped toward it faster now, driving it down the aisle toward the back of the store, yelling, “Go back where you came from!”

Backed against the end of the aisle, the thing stopped its screaming. Gloria stood in front of it, holding her ground. The thing expanded, growing huge. It hunched over as it grew, its head drawing over Gloria. It extended its arms. Reached its fingers down and opened its mouth, lowering its mouth toward her. Gloria looked up and laughed, saying, “Go on. See what happens if you touch me.”

The sound that came out of the thing nearly loosened Danny’s bowels. A whooshing sound of a raging fire, sucking the air from every crevice of the room. Then the thing was gone, and there was nothing but the sound of Gloria’s laughter. She turned, her face bloody and torn on the left side as she walked toward him. With each step closer, her face transformed and smoothed. When she came to a stop in front of Danny, her face was perfect.

“We have to leave,” she said. “They know you’re here. You have to come with me. Your friend can follow us.”

She walked toward the front door.

“What the hell was that?” Clay whispered to Danny.

“I don’t know,” Danny said. Then he pointed at Gloria. “But that’s my cousin, Gloria. We should follow her.” He paused and then added, “Unless you want to stay and see what else shows up.”