Angie - TG Halloween Part 1

I am going to post this on Royal Road.

Angie

I woke to the sound of water running through the pipes on the other side of the wall next to my bed. My first thought was to obey the cries of my bladder and shamble over to the restroom. Only after I was done and had made my way over to the sink did I begin to think through what I'd heard. That wall faced the front yard. There was no way I could hear pipes through it.

Returning to my darkened bedroom, I cupped an ear. Nothing now. The neighbor's motion-activated light was on. With all the cats roaming around, that happened a lot. Rubbing my eyes and figuring the sound had just carried through the house from the bathroom or something, I checked the clock.

It was after 1 AM. I glared at the clock but it refused to change its digits. I'd only slept ten minutes. Which was pretty good for me at this time of night. I needed it after my unsettling trip home.

Cracking my wrists a few times, I rubbed at the abrasive sheen of hair along my cheeks. I could shave but I would probably have to shave it again in the morning.

I worked stocking at an always-open big-box store from early afternoon to midnight. I sometimes took a nap after work and had something around the early morning for a meal. Usually it was a longer nap than this. I plopped down on my wrinkled covers and rubbed at my eyes. I could probably try for another ten.

My sleep hours were weird long before this job. Blame weird roommates in college and even weirder ones soon after. I sometimes missed the long, philosophical debates about the nature of the universe at two in the morning. I shut my eyes a little but my mind stayed right where it was and nudged me gently with a lingering thought. The pipes only made running noises when the washing machine turned on or the dish washer was finishing its cycle and had to dump the waste water. Neither of those things should be happening, especially with my current roommates (except for Matt) visiting family up north.

My throat gave a groan to my brain as my body bent up and rose from the bed. The dish washer looked cold, clear, and dry on the inside with no sign it had been used all evening. The washing machine was also dry and even had some of Matt's forgotten dirty clothes inside. I dumped a little soap in and started it up.

When the cycle came to the point I would've heard the water flowing, I was sitting on my bed. What I heard wasn't quite what I'd heard then. The flowing was far off and clearly on that side of the house, not next to my bed. Then came the epiphany moment for my brain. The yard!

I bolted from the bed, flipped on the outside light, and rushed out the front door. I expected to find deep pools of water saturating the lawn and spilling in torrents on the sidewalk. But it was completely dry. I rubbed my head and shrugged. At this point, I figured the only explanation was a half-waking state where I imagined it. I glanced across the yard. The fog was much better now from earlier.

The front light only lit an area near the porch. It dimly touched the vast front bushes and the massive tree which cloaked the front of the house. Hazy, tendril-webbed shadows from the branches laced their way across the grass. The gray, diamond-patterned metal fence separated this house from the one next door. Their tree had been cut down some time ago to expand their porch into an area where they often had meals. The harsh light from their side blasted through the fence and made another pattern which bent away.

I frowned. A bit of shadow shifted along the far edge of the house, at a small path which led back about ten feet to a large gate which separated the front yard from the back. I figured it was just the wind playing with a bit of branch but the air was still. Then I heard the gate creak, as though slowly, achingly opened.

I ran back inside, locking the front door behind me, and immediately went for the large flashlight which was always on one of the living room couches. I cradled it in my hands a moment and stopped to listen. In picking up the light, I was sure I'd heard movement around the back side of the house. Clicking the switch made the light cast a wide, harsh beam on the far wall. Motes of dust drifted in its path. I clicked it off a moment.

I took a deep breath and approached the back window. The drapes were drawn, as always. Moving to the side, I looked across one and to the backyard with a sliver of drape pulled back. The back light was off. So the whole area was wrapped in darkness, aside from an amber glimmer from a nearby street lamp. I clicked the light on and panned it across.

The beam cut through the dark, exposing malnourished grass and brick columns. The leftover beams of the previous-owner's doghouse looked like mottled mud and ice. The dense beam made me jump a few times as it cast harsh, false shadows over the area. Slowly, I approached the window and edged back the drape enough to get a better look. I idly wished I'd bought a gun or at least grabbed a long knife before taking a look.

My tension ebbed as the beam traced the area and showed nothing out of place. I scouted the side window where I could see the garage. The door was secure. Well, secured meaning it was closed by the small boulder we always used to keep it closed because it never seemed to close any other way. But the boulder was propped right up against the door.

Dipping my shoulders, I gave a few more shines out the window and made my way around the small bar area and to the dining room. I was about to turn back and set my light down when I noticed that was a small gap in the side sliding door. This sometimes happened because it was old and usually only secured with a loose latch and a long bar in a metallic depression. Pulling aside the thin, manila blinds and being careful not to disturb the loose one, I glanced at the latch and down at the depression. The bar wasn't in all the way, it was to the side with enough space to push the door open. I put my hand on the latch, it was also undone.

I took a breath, tried to avoid looking through the openings in the door to the carport outside, and pressed the latch together as securely as I could manage. Then I tucked in the bar so firmly that it looked almost impossible to remove it. I brushed my hands and smiled at my handiwork.

Nagging thoughts plagued me. If this door was open, then it was quite possible someone could've gotten into the house. It wasn't as though this was a scary neighborhood but I had plenty of horror stories from Matt and his family about always locking your doors. To set my mind at ease, I made my way around the dining room and over to the side door, which was right next to the computer room. The room itself was dark. Flipping the switch on, I glanced around. All seemed in order. The door was at the far end.

I gave the knob a test turn and it slipped in my grasp. I stared at it. I shook my head and tried to rationalize it. Maybe Matt went out this door when he left and just forgot. Didn't seem likely. The small cloth we put in front of the bottom of the door to keep out the cold in winter was still there. No one could've used it lately. But it was open. I whirled around in place, sure that there had to be something standing behind me, something scary. But it was all computer equipment and nothing more.

Making my way back to the dining room after securing the lock on that door, I sighed and tried to think of all the ways this could've happened without someone breaking into the house. I cursed to myself. I eyed the long knives and grabbed one as I made my way through the kitchen. I set the light on the drain board and gripped the knife tightly. As I walked, I started to turn on the lights, one by one.

The one which lit the dining room. The dimmer for the bar area. The overhead florescents. I walked towards the living room and gave only a glance at the front door. I jerked back on my knees and nearly tripped.

The front door, the one I'd run through and locked, was wide open. A gaping hole of blackness from the front porch was only dimmed by the gray screen door and the fuzzy glow of the dusty street light. I nearly threw up right there.

I rushed to the front door and sealed it shut. I turned the deadbolt, hooked the chain, and pushed the latch we never used across. It was fucking locked.

I clenched the knife in my fist so tight I could feel the rough ridges of the handle. I turned back and looked down the hallway, hoping against all hope I wouldn't see anything the least bit weird. The lamp over by the couch was blazing like I expected.

I had to check everything from the front to the back and make sure. I took a deep breath and eyed the front room a little in the dark and quickly flicked on the light. Half of them were burnt out but there was enough to see into all the dark corners. I checked behind a couch just to be sure and glanced back to the hallway to make sure no one tried to sneak up on me. Once satisfied, I kept my back to a wall at all times and went room by room. I glanced into the laundry room with its single, frail bulb in the ceiling. Clear.

I checked the coat rack and the closet just to be safe. As I made my way through the rest of the house, I felt my heart settle down and I only kept my knife at my side instead of pointed out in front of me.

All the bedrooms and bathrooms were fine and undisturbed. I kept glancing back to see if someone doubled back on me. I eventually rechecked the side doors. The rod was firmly in the same place and the deadbolt set. Another check of the front door gave me just what I hoped for, a sealed and locked door.

I settled onto the edge of the hallway and bent my head down. Tiredness crept over me and I clenched shut my eyes a moment. I sat there, half-expecting to hear something terrible. But the house was still. It didn't even make any settling noises. I cracked my neck a bit and sighed.

Pushing aside possibilities that someone was in the house and hiding very well, I tried to come up with explanations which didn't require an intruder. I added onto thoughts of roommates leaving doors unlocked with misremembering whether I closed the front door behind me or not. Or just closing it right or securely. I had run in terror and shock. But my muscle memory was there. I was absolutely sure I'd closed it completely.

Rubbing my lips a bit, I walked over to the big, woolen-feeling black couch and settled in. It was all-consuming and deep. Perfect for hiding from all my worries. No one from the door would see me in it. And, my traitorous mind whispered, I wouldn't see anyone coming at me from behind. I could see the other, longer same-color couch against the wall with an ocean painting hanging above it and a couple of crumpled gray blankets from where Matt liked to snooze when he got home.

Digging myself into the cushions, I settled a bit and let the tiredness be swallowed up by the couch. I shut my eyes a little and gave a silent yawn. I just rested my eyes. For how long, I didn't know. But it felt like a while.

When my eyes bent open, the first thing they sighted was the other couch. I watched it a bit. Same as always. Then I frowned. Not the same. Something was different. I wondered if I'd shifted a bit and that was it. My waking mind was clear enough to tell something was wrong. I edged back on the couch and surveyed the other one carefully.

Yes, something had changed. The blankets. They had been wrinkled and bunched up before. Now, they sat swollen, rounded. Like something was under them. Or someone. The shape. I looked over the shape and wondered where I had left my knife. It wasn't a huge form. Not obvious. But it was big. Large enough to be a person.

But it wasn't moving and the mass was completely covered. I took a slow breath through my nose. I wanted to have the knife. Where was the damn knife? I tried to think. Maybe by the hallway. Too far to go back for. I couldn't turn from the mass. Again, it wasn't huge.

I tried not to make the springs squeak as I rose up from the couch. Still, I could feel a little groan slide past my ears. It felt like a scream broadcast everywhere. I watched the mass. It didn't stir at my noise.

I kept crouched and tried not to scuff the carpet. Standing over the mass, I tried to sense if it was breathing. I couldn't tell but it was ridged and a bit loose in spots. I didn't take a breath. My lungs ached.  

Reaching a hand down, I felt my thumb quivering. I wasn't sure where to touch the material. What would happen if I did the impossible and actually pulled it back? I tried not to think about it. Just act, just pull it away. I could feel the coarse fabric of the blanket against my hand. Was there warmth? I wasn't sure. Before I could debate or fear, my fingers seemed to act on their own, they gripped the mass of blankets and pulled them aside.

The couch was bare. Mostly. There were a few damp spots near the back. I cursed to myself and wondered if Matt had left a drink on the couch again. He'd done that before and it took forever to get the smell of cola out of the material. With a sigh, I searched the rest of the blankets. They were a bit wet too but there was nothing underneath.

Bunching them up so the wet part was inside, I dumped the blankets in the wash and checked the couch. There were some dark, wet stains. I took out the cleansers and treated the material a bit. I couldn't smell any particular odor. Probably was just water but it was hard to tell and rubbing it didn't leave behind any traces I could see. When it dried a bit, I turned over the cushions and sighed.

Cleaning up had taken my mind off the unfounded fear of someone underneath there. As I heard the washer go, I sighed and wondered if I should attempt to rest some more. It was just after two in the morning. I was beginning to feel a little hungry.

I chuckled to myself and sighed. I should've called someone. Even if it was the cops, to set my mind at ease. But my memory of the events nudged me and told me that nothing had actually happened but too much imagination and some dumb mistakes in not locking doors. And the shadow was probably just a light-exaggerated cat shadow. Some part of me didn't believe a word of those explanations. Still, I could only shrug.

Grabbing my wallet, my reliable cell phone, and my keys, I stood before the front door for several long moments and stared it down. It didn't do anything. I half-expected it to growl.

I rested my hand on the knob but didn't turn it till I had a few seconds to really absorb the sounds around me. The washing machine was slowly going through the motions, which meant the pipes groaned a bit but that was all.

Opening the door slowly, I looked out. The light was off. I went over to the switch and flipped it. It blasted the front porch with light. Moving slowly, I felt the lock and turned it securely before closing the door. Then I tested the knob a few times before I was satisfied. That done, I looked over my shoulder at the porch. Nothing but me. I gave a glance over to the side area. The neighbor's lights were off, which left that area a total mass of darkness with only a dusting of light from the porch light and the street lights. Not nearly enough to show anything. The moon was a nail sliver and not much help either.

For two long breaths, I considered checking over there to see if the gate had been opened recently. But I really didn't want to do that. My car was closer than that unknown space of trees, roots, dirt, and who-knew-what-else. I backed away till I was right next to my car.

It was an older one and a deep, dark green which looked closer to navy at night. I usually only had good memories of my car. Zooming across endless desert with the zen of a steady wheel. Tracing the darkened streets for food after everyone has gone to bed. But tonight was different. I'd had a scare on the way back.

The memory already felt dreamlike in so short a time. It was foggy after a bit of drizzle leaving work. I decided to take the old road because no one ever took it, especially at night, and that meant very little traffic.

The slow journey had been uneventful. My eyes started to blink for longer and longer. I thought about a coworker who offered to drive me home but I didn't want to impose.

I could feel the machine-gun thumps of the lane markers and my eyes darted open. I groaned. I needed something to keep me awake. I flipped on the radio and let it search a bit till it came to rest on an old Rolling Stones song. I listened but I still felt just as drowsy. So I rolled down the window a bit to catch the cool night air on my head. That helped but I still gave long blinks as the mottled haze of the foggy night passed by. I slowed a little more and yawned. The song crooned in my ear and the melody actually made me even sleepier. For a long moment, my eyes closed completely.

WHAM! I felt that all through my body. The car shuddered and swerved off. I clenched the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The song played on. It sounded so loud. I tried to turn it off but I was flailing for the buttons and I couldn't find the right one. Forgetting the radio, I looked out the window and all around. There was nothing.

I looked behind. Nothing as well. I backed up gingerly along the side of the road, realizing it was probably the wrong thing to do. I wondered if my car was all messed up. I pondered the possibilities. My heart raced all the while and my eyes stared back. I knew I had to be careful because this side of the road was right next to a main storm drain of the local river. I could hear a swift, flowing sound of water very close by. I stopped and realized I'd have to get out.

Carefully, I stepped out of the car and looked behind. I couldn't see much beyond the red glow of my parking lights. There were a lot of dense weeds which looked like piled static. The frail fence separating the road from the wash area looked like a crushed human rib cage. It was in a sorry state. Countless drunk drivers had completely disregarded it or broken it in places. I wondered if I had curved so far over as to glance against it. I couldn't see anything else I could've hit. I paced a few steps away from my car but it was nothing by blackness and the moist soup of the fog.

Walking back, I made sure to check the side of my car. The same song still played on the radio. I traced a hand along the side but I didn't feel anything out of place. My side mirror was a little back but then I sometimes forgot to put it in the correct position. All the junk in the back seat was undisturbed. I checked slowly along the bumper. It was wet but then it was sitting near a large puddle. It dripped quietly. I blinked against the blaze of the front light.

The bumper did have a mashed place across the front and it was coming off towards the back. But then it had that before. Reminders of old fender benders in the parking lot. I couldn't honestly tell if there was anything new on it. The lights were fine. The other side didn't show any damage either. And, yet, the harsh sound was still reverberating in my head. I had to have hit something. At worst, I figured I'd glanced a deer. They were common around here. And it had run off. At best, I'd just glanced the fence and bounced off. Actually, neither idea left me feeling all that great. But I settled back into my car. The song ended. I drove off.

I shook my head as I looked my bumper over again. I gave it a hearty love tap and looked over the rest. Oh the junk in the back. I couldn't remember what most of it was but it had begun to form a hulking mass which almost seemed big enough to bury a person under. There were empty bags from meals long past. Long promised to be removed. Some old books I read when I was parked somewhere without the use of my phone. Boxes of tissue which had been long-depleted. Leftover papers of so many assortments. A massive (and half-full) jug of water. And a tennis racket, despite the fact I'd not played the sport for ages.

Looking away from the car, I watched the area near the tree, wondering if something might show itself when my back was turned. But there was nothing. I unlocked the door and slid myself in. With the door sealed, I felt much calmer, despite everything. I turned my key in the ignition.

The engine started roughly after a bit hesitation. I worried about it flooding, even though I only had a vague idea what that meant. The car felt like it was wobbling. The engine was going but it felt off. Like it was trembling. I slowly gave it a little gas. It revved but the shaking didn't lessen. I was parked on a bit of an incline but I'd never had problems before. My mind raced with worry that whatever I had struck had done subtle but significant damage. Just as I could think this thought, the wobbling cleared and things felt normal again. There was still the constant rattling that went with a ten-year-old car but it was the rattling I'd grown used to. Leaning back into the soft fabric of the seat, I smiled and reached for the parking brake.

I looked back. I twitched and jerked on the wheel, even though it didn't do anything. After a moment of shock, I was actually laughing. The shadows of the tree had spilled over the tall, metal fence which none of us had even bothered to close since we moved in. The laughs came quickly and cathartically. Smiling to myself, I slowly backed out of the driveway and onto the street.

I could see the end of the road easily despite the soft traces of lingering fog. It wasn't enough to make the amber street lights looked like mottled balls but the lines of the light were accented by sharp edges. My headlights looked particularly harsh. Leaning back, I glanced at my phone. Still not too far past two. I reminded myself it was technically Halloween.

I smirked at that. My family never really celebrated it. There were some bits at school but the usual traditions went over my head. I adopted enough of the occasion for those who were more into it than I. To me, it pretty much just meant a lot more orange and black tinted stuff to unload and sort. Tucking my phone away, I drove off down the road. Something shifted with a weighty thump followed by a sudden rush of water. I immediately thought about the possible lump on the couch. I braked and turned around. Again, it was immediately clear to me what had happened. The jug of water had tipped over and was rolling back and forth as much as it could. I picked it up and took a long sip from the top. When I set it down, I made sure it was wedged between enough trash that it was sure to stay in place.

Chuckling to myself, I continued down the road. About half the houses in this area were dressed up in cobwebs and other decorations. There was even an old, faceless wizard standing with a black, empty bowl in his hands. The paper stuff looked a bit soft but the cobwebs were nicely dew-speckled. I made a left at the end of the street, maneuvered around a few small cul-de-sacs, and past a small, nice-looking elementary school my family once considered sending me to. It was too far a trip though, even with bussing.

I rolled the window down a little but not as much as earlier. I also kept away from the radio. Call it mere superstition but I wasn't eager to do the same thing as before for quite a while. I turned left, away from a long, dark dirt road in the middle of the housing tract. Its end was so far away that the fog actually managed to gobble it up.

My road followed along the edge of the tract and crossed the nearest major road. The signal light was furiously blinking a bright, fuzzy red over and over. Drivers ambled through, barely stopping before driving off. I waited long after a guy weaving through lanes and made a right onto the road. There was a soft splash with my tires. I hadn't noticed any water and there wasn't any further up. I shrugged and pondered a bit of music but just listened to the wind crackling through the open window.

There were a couple choices for food. On my left at the corner, there was a hot dog place but it had recently closed. The other restaurants in the little strip were also shut for the evening. I could go left and see if the town end of the old road had anything open. Sure to be just fast food places though. Turn left or turn right. It seemed like the sort of night for right.

I chuckled at a house with glowing pumpkin people attached to the eaves. Just past a firehouse, I came to the main shopping center. The supermarket was closed, as were several of the places on this side. Slowing and pondering a bit, I considered the hamburger place or the taco one. Both had lengthy lines of hungry stoners and random insomniacs. But the taco one was just slightly shorter. I reminded myself they did have hamburgers too.

I settled in at the back of the line and cracked my neck a little. It sounded like splitting a pencil in half but felt great. Glancing out the window, I noticed there were a couple of older teens sitting by the outdoor eating area of the taco place. One of them had a skateboard and was flipping it around. One yelled randomly for what seemed like no reason and another was bobbing his head. Then there was the one on the end. The girl.

It didn't seem like she was with the rest of them. She was sitting on the curb with her legs arching up and her head dipped down. Her face was hidden in the large, gray hoodie she wore. Her legs were covered by long stockings which rose up to her thighs in a regular black and gray banded pattern to a small, clinging pair of black shorts. Her shoes were a thin, glossy pair of black sandals. Her breasts really showed despite the loose hoodie. A narrow drawstring dangled off one pinnacle. I tried not to stare much. But I frowned a bit when I noticed she had some blankets behind her. One of them was set on her shoulders and another was bunched up where she was sitting. What I noticed, however, was that they were the same type and color as the blankets on the couch.

My breath quickened a bit before I was even sure why. There were tons of the same kinds of blankets sold and Matt's blankets were just some rough cheapie ones he'd gotten at the store during a sale. Nothing weird. They probably just looked like the same ones anyway. Although, these did appear a little wet in the areas where I'd seen the ones on the couch wet. I grit my teeth, shook my head, and rolled my window back up. The car in front of me advanced a little and I moved as far as possible down the line. I needed some music now.

I searched through the stations, stopped on a classic rock one, and listened to some Queen. I relaxed a bit and softly drummed the wheel. At the peak of the melody, I bobbed my head and added some heavier beats. But the taps suddenly sounded like they were in stereo. Right by my head. My head jerked to the left. A pale, small hand pressed against the glass. Her head was down, still buried in her blankets and hoodie.

My heart raced but then soon settled. I lowered the window cautiously. She spoke in a very soft voice which almost felt like no air was passing out.

"Could…could you please give me a ride? I need to get home. Please."

Her hand drooped over the edge of the window. Her fingers were so narrow they seemed like the legs of a spider. I coughed lightly. A car had settled in behind me in line so there really was no way to drive off.

I asked her, "How far? I'm…just getting a late meal."

She bowed even more. I could see the side of her cheek. It was as pale as her hands. She assured me, "Not far. I could pay you. I just need to get home."

Chewing my lip a bit, I nodded to myself and unlocked the doors. She disappeared a moment before her hand appeared on the other door and pulled it open. The lights came on and the alarm sounded like a solemn warning.

She moved slowly into the passenger seat, the bundle of her head leading first and her legs last. The alarm silenced but the light lingered when she closed the door. She had all those blankets with her.

I turned down the radio and looked over at her. She set her blankets at her feet and lowered her hood. I could finally see her face. Her eyes were gray too. Her black hair clung to the side of her hood. It looked like it had been caught up in the wind and she'd had to brush it by hand. It shimmered a bit in the overhead light till it turned off. She adjusted herself in her seat and tugged at her shorts. Her skin looked so pale that I wondered if she was sick.

I offered, "Would you like the heat on, miss?"

She brushed a matted lock of hair away from her eyes and said, "It's fine.…and call me Angie." I raised an eyebrow but dismissed my random thought as a coincidence.

Angie bent one of her hands toward me. I touched it for a shake. Her flesh felt frigid as I touched it and left my hand feeling much colder when I let go.

I was about to tell her my name when she interrupted and murmured, "I'm so hungry…."

That was something I could easily believe. I offered to buy her some food and she gave a slow nod. The line advanced slowly. I sighed and pondered whether to chat with her a bit. She didn't provide many openings but I did ask her, "What would you like me to order for you?"

She told me, "Anything with meat."

I figured a ground beef burrito would be fine. Asking her for confirmation was met with silence as she bowed her head a little and shut her eyes.

And there was silence aside from the rumble of the other cars and murmurs from where people were ordering. I tapped a little on the wheel but much lighter than usual. It was strange how nervous she made me.

I tried to counteract that by getting her to talk. I asked, "So…what are you doing out so late?"

Her eyes blinked open like she'd just awakened from a trance. Her head leveled and she looked out through the windshield. I was about to say something else when she said, "A party. I was at a party with some friends. Lousy friends. They dumped me. Drove off. Splashed me too with their wheels. I was angry. So angry. I wished I could grab them and throttle the life out of them. The host…of the party.. he gave me some blankets. All he had…to dry off. But I wanted to go home right away. Before I felt sorry for coming. I wanted out of there. I walked home. A long ways along the side of the road. And then…I got really tired. I guess I made it here. So tired…" She leaned her head back against the car cushion.

I noticed when she talked about her friends that there was a bit of feeling in her voice. Her mouth clenched and seemed to tremble. There was anger. But it drifted away.

All I could do was nod and tell her, "Wow. Yeah." She didn't look interested in saying anything else. I went back to slowly drumming on my wheel and put the radio back on. It was just static, as was sometimes the case at this time of night. The local stations stopped broadcasting and it was hard to get the distant big ones.

I glanced over. Her head was all the way back against the seat. Her chest very slowly rose and fell. I couldn't hear her breath. I filled the silence with a little more drumming and told her, "I just got home from work not too long ago. I usually eat late like this due to weird hours. It's been a weird night though."

Still resting on the cushion, her head turned to face me. Her gray eyes locked on me as she asked, "Oh?"

I continued, "Well..you know…just weird stuff which can sometimes happen when you're alone at night and…you know…the imagination goes."

She answered simply, "Oh…"

I could've stopped there but I added, "And some sort of near accident as I was driving home. I think I hit a fence." I chuckled roughly.

After a quiet moment of staring, she asked, "Why do you think it was a fence?"

I gave her my best shrug and noted, "Actually…I'm not sure what it was but a lot of people hit the fence by the old road in town."

She asked, "….the old road by the river?" I nodded and she looked away from me.

And that was it for a while. We moved up a few cars. Then, she suddenly started to sing to herself. It was that song.

"All the dreams we held…soooo close…seemed to all go up in smoke…let me whisper in your ear…Angie…Angie…"

Her voice became a small, rough whisper. Then she screamed an ear-splitting scream. I tensed up and glanced around, hoping that no one around thought I was trying to kill her. Her head dipped down and she brought a hand to her nose. It came away smeared with red. I swallowed and fumbled around for a tissue. None left. I handed her some old napkins from the back. She took the paper but merely looked at it as twin, red streaks of blood oozed down.

I kinda wished I'd checked her for weapons before letting her into my car. It was clear she was disturbed and those blankets could be hiding anything underneath. At least the scream had melded into the screams of some teen girls in a car right ahead and not attracted any weird looks. Although maybe it was better to get some attention…if she was a danger.

I asked, a bit of ringing still in my ears, "What's wrong?" Angie cradled her nose and looked at me as she asked me, "Was it you? Was it?" Her eyes were wide and trembling.

I shook my head and asked her, "Was I what? You're really weirding me out here. I wanna help you but I'm kinda scared…"

Slowly, her eyes relaxed and she noted, "So am I. So very much. Terrified.…"

I furrowed my lips a bit. We pulled up in line. Very close to the speaker. I wondered what I could tell her. Then, suddenly, all the tension vanished from her. She gave a slight laugh and looked to me.

"What was I saying?" She dabbed her bloodied nose with the tissue.

I told her, "You were screaming. Then you said you were terrified too."

After a quiet moment, she actually started giggling in a way which sounded more like hiccups. She noted, "Sounds like me…What a night…" Leaning back against the car cushion, she smirked slightly.

There was really nothing I could say. She gave a deep yawn and leaned her legs back under her like she was straddling the seat. She murmured, "Man…I could use some more weed."

I couldn't smell it on her but drugs were at the top of my theories. I figured on something a little harder though. She brushed at her nose. It looked fine now.

She glanced over at me and asked, "So what now?"

I blinked at her. She looked at me without expression. I told her, "I don't understand…"

Angie touched a hand to her cheek. "Right. Sorry about that. Sorry about all this. I should go…"

She leaned towards the door. I was tempted to let her go but I worried about hearing she'd died in tomorrow's newspaper. So I said, "No, it's okay. I'll take you where you want to go…so long as it's alright."

Crouching down a little, she didn't say anything. We were right at the speaker now.

I cleared my throat and spoke. I surveyed the menu board a little and looked back to Angie. She stayed in the same position. I went about my order with my usual and picked a ground beef burrito for her.

When I was done, I nodded to Angie. Still no reaction. The muffled female voice on the other side of the speaker told me the cost then said, "Thank you, ma'am."

I coughed a bit but didn't say anything back. I knew my voice was a bit boyish and I got that from time to time. Sometimes I'd make a good laugh out of it when I came to the window. Angie didn't seem to notice what was said.

Once at the window, I fished out enough money from my wallet. The window operator had long, reddish hair tied into a tight ponytail. She took the money passively. I tried to give myself a deeper voice but she didn't seem to notice. She passed the receipt and change to me and said, clearly, "Here you go, miss."

I had to pause and looked down at the pieces of paper in my hands before I looked over at the red-haired lady. It was a little dark in the car. But still. I shouldn't have persisted. She was probably just in a weird, automated mental mode at this time of night. But I cleared my throat and called her over. A cook passed by around her.

She bent her microphone out of the way and looked at me with an almost accusing look. I thought about how I should phrase what I was about to say. After a short pause, I told her, "My name is…"

Suddenly, the radio turned on. I turned around and glanced at it, not sure why it was on. Angie was on her side of the car, far away. She could've pressed it quickly but the button wasn't even depressed. I wondered if it was some sort of technical problem. After all the stuff that had broken on my car in the past, I couldn't put it past the radio to break as well.

But I didn't have time to mull on that as the lady in the window said, "What was that? Did you need some condiments or something, miss?" That again. She cupped her ear a little. Maybe hard of hearing but she could surely see me here. I tried to say something but bags of food, my order, were passed to her. I took them from her one by one and held them out to give to Angie.

She wasn't sitting there. I glanced back and she wasn't in the back seat either. Not that there would be much room in there for someone to sit comfortable. There was also an old bottle in the cup holder which separated the front seat from the back so there was really no way she could subtly sneak back there. I hadn't heard the door close and yet it was as sealed as it had been from a moment before. However, I could never go by the door alarm or the overhead light. Neither of them worked consistently since the last electrical repair my car needed. So she could've left without me being alerted. Except I didn't hear any sound of the door opening and closing and I was sure I had a pretty good ear. I had been distracted though.

The lady in the window interrupted my thought with another female pronoun. I grabbed the last bag from her and made my way down the path. I moved slowly, wondering if I could see where Angie had gotten out. I turned right and traced the side of the parking lot. There was a massive, brown brick wall which didn't look like it had any way you could hoist yourself up it. The driveway was back quite a distance. Still, she could probably sprint all the way. Didn't make much sense to me that she would do that though. Shaking my head, the radio station switched to another song. It was that same one. The 'Angie' one. I half-wondered if something was trying to screw with me.

I checked over in the passenger's seat one last time and nearly jumped through my belt. Angie was back and right where she'd been a minute ago. Only her eyes were wide and glaring right at me. Her mouth was clenched. I couldn't imagine a more intimidating sight. My mouth hung open and I tried to find words.

After a trembling moment, she seemed to relax. Her eyes slightly narrowed and she said, "I need to go a few places. You will take me." Her nose looked like it was oozing blood again.

I wanted to say no. I was going to say no. But there was something in her expression. Not the anger of a moment before. It was something else. I didn't want to imagine what I might see if I told her no.