Tor.com Short Fiction Summer 2019 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor.com
Published: 2019-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

She waited a long hour, and then started the car. “Sorry,” she said into the humid, oppressive air. And: “I’ll come back.” Elizabeth had the GPS. Elizabeth had it, and they both had the coordinates of where Ailey and Piper were. And Piper was sick.

There was no cell signal, not anywhere, and the road was deserted. There weren’t even road signs. The sky was low and scowling, but holding back, holding its breath—there was no wind. Motionless, gravid, and a sense of being watched.

May stopped at the first little grocery she saw. It was half–boarded up but it had an Open sign in the window, and maybe something moved in the dim inside, but the door was locked and there was no answer at her knock. Behind her, a crow lighted next to a puddle in the parking lot, its reflection playing against the glass door like a mirror. It dropped a twig from its beak.

She drove endless minutes, checking her phone for bars. None of the other structures tucked into the woods seemed alive. Some of the buildings tumbled in at the roofline, others were barricaded with junk. She stopped once where an old truck sat in a driveway, and banged at the door of the trailer until her knuckles hurt.

Back in the car. The sky was darkening, the storm shoving closer to the ground, but no rain yet. In the dark fur of pines she saw a glint of light. A big house, set back, A-frame roof glowing golden at its windows.

Its narrow driveway wound into the woods. May felt her pulse in her skin. Maybe she’d get to take a shower today. Maybe whoever owned this house would be awesome, and the emergency personnel would come and take her information and the GPS coordinates, and then she’d be tucked into a bed with cocoa and pillows and cable TV.

The driveway was long. Overgrown branches dragged thick fingers along the windows like nails. Despite the neglect, the house the driveway spilled out in front of was ostentatiously nice. Celebrity nice, and gloriously lit. Nobody left this many lights on if they weren’t home.

Her boots thudded the porch boards. She pushed the doorbell. She pushed it again, and when nothing happened, she knocked. Her knuckles ached from the knocking she’d done before, so she used the side of her fist instead.

Somewhere in the house a small dog barked. No one came to the door. May’s head began to throb. Inside, upstairs, there was a muffled bump of wood against wood.

Frustration burned between her vertebrae. She banged harder, this time on the glass. She wanted to kick the door. “Hey!” she yelled. “Is someone home? Goddammit!”

Overhead, on the face of the house, something slid and clicked. A woman’s voice rang out. “Go away!”

“Hey!” May scrambled down the porch steps to find the origin of the voice. “Hello! I need help!”

“I’m not alone in here,” the woman’s voice said. The little dog barked again, louder through the open window.

May looked up.

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