Desires of the Dead
Page 68
Now the echo felt intrusive, and Jay’s presence soothing.
“We’re getting close,” Mike announced from the back. “Up ahead is the store where we can stop to get some snacks and anything else we need. Last stop. If you need to make a phone call, now’s the time to do it,” he added.
Violet pulled her phone from her purse and checked to see if she had service. Mike was right; there was no signal up here.
“Oh, thank God. Violet, will you get me some crackers? And see if they have some 7UP or Sprite? I feel like shit.”
Violet turned around to look at Chelsea, who still had her head back and refused to open her eyes, but it was Jay who answered. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out and maybe stretch your legs a little?”
“Don’t worry, Captain Concern, I won’t ruin your precious leather,” she snarled. “But if you’re so worried, leave me a bag or something.”
Violet saw Mike lean down and whisper something in Chelsea’s ear, his face etched with concern. Chelsea grimaced and turned her head away from him. She didn’t even make an effort to be polite about it.
She must really be sick, Violet thought, to turn on Mike like that.
The outside of the convenience store was rustic and charming; the exterior walls were rough-hewn logs, giving it the illusion of being a quaint country store. The inside was cluttered and disorganized. The owners—probably out of necessity and in an effort to stock as many items as possible—somehow managed to fill every inch of shelf, floor, and countertop. Even the walls were crammed with items for sale. And where there weren’t actual wares, there were signs with products that could be ordered.
It was almost as cold inside the store as it was outside. Violet was glad she’d worn her snow boots and her heavy winter coat on the ride up, and that she’d put her hat and scarf back on before getting out of the car.
It was easy to fill Chelsea’s requests, and then it just took a few more minutes for the rest of them to stock up on chips, beef jerky, pop, and an assortment of snacks, including the pack of Oreos that Jay bought for Violet.
Violet thought briefly about calling her parents, just to let them know that they’d made it up the mountain safely. She’d seen the pay phone lodged tightly into an open space between the ice cooler and a shelf piled high with motor oil and propane tanks. Just above the phone, there was a small corkboard littered with colorful sticky notes and scraps of paper.
But she dismissed the idea almost immediately. Her parents weren’t expecting her to call unless there was a problem, and Violet was trying to be more independent, to prove to them that they could trust her to be safe on her own. Calling them to “check in” felt like it would defeat that purpose.
So she passed by the phone without a second glance on her way to the cashier.
If she would have stopped, she would have noticed the message pinned there.
Addressed to her.
Jay had decided to park his car down by the road rather than to risk the steep and winding driveway leading up to the cabin. He was afraid it would get trapped in the thick layers of snow there.
And even though Mike’s dad’s truck was gone, it was apparent that he’d already been there, by the newly plowed tracks he’d left. But Violet agreed with Jay that it wasn’t worth taking the chance. Jay’s car wasn’t equipped, even with the snow chains, to make it up such a treacherous grade. Not in this weather.
So they’d been forced to carry their things up the hill to the cabin. It wouldn’t have been that difficult had it not been for the nearly two feet of snow they had to wade through. Fortunately, they were able to walk in the tracks of Mike’s dad’s truck.
It seemed that the crackers and Sprite had worked their magic on Chelsea’s upset stomach, because she was back to herself again by the time they’d arrived. Violet even heard her apologizing to Mike for being so “grumpy,” a word she’d never heard Chelsea use before. Especially not in that octave.
Mike’s family “cabin” was less the picturesque mountain lodge that Violet had imagined and more a shelter-from-the-elements kind of structure. Like a shack, sort of. With plumbing.
But what it lacked in electricity, phone lines, and heat, it made up for in sparse furnishings, a tiny kitchen, and a generally musty odor. Its saving grace was an oversized fireplace, with a fire already blazing when they arrived, filling the space with warmth that Violet could feel inviting her inside even before they’d stepped over the threshold.
“Wow,” Jay breathed appreciatively, and Violet recognized immediately that rustic was his kind of place. “This is so cool. How long have you guys had it?”
Mike shrugged, dropping his worn duffel bag on the floor, and Violet could have sworn she saw a puff of dust rising around it. “I think it used to belong to my grandparents, and when they died, my parents got it.”
“So where’s your mom? You never talk about her. Is she coming too?” Claire asked as she prissily brushed her hand across the seat of a wooden dining chair before setting her expensive suitcase on it. Leave it to Claire to bring a designer bag into the woods.
Chelsea glared disapprovingly at Claire, answering for Mike. “Mike’s mom doesn’t live with them anymore. And he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
But Mike just shrugged and added, “It’s okay. She took off a while back, and we don’t hear from her.” And then he put his finger up. “Hold on a sec.” He glanced toward the short hallway at the corner of the large living space. “Megan?” he yelled.
“We’re getting close,” Mike announced from the back. “Up ahead is the store where we can stop to get some snacks and anything else we need. Last stop. If you need to make a phone call, now’s the time to do it,” he added.
Violet pulled her phone from her purse and checked to see if she had service. Mike was right; there was no signal up here.
“Oh, thank God. Violet, will you get me some crackers? And see if they have some 7UP or Sprite? I feel like shit.”
Violet turned around to look at Chelsea, who still had her head back and refused to open her eyes, but it was Jay who answered. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out and maybe stretch your legs a little?”
“Don’t worry, Captain Concern, I won’t ruin your precious leather,” she snarled. “But if you’re so worried, leave me a bag or something.”
Violet saw Mike lean down and whisper something in Chelsea’s ear, his face etched with concern. Chelsea grimaced and turned her head away from him. She didn’t even make an effort to be polite about it.
She must really be sick, Violet thought, to turn on Mike like that.
The outside of the convenience store was rustic and charming; the exterior walls were rough-hewn logs, giving it the illusion of being a quaint country store. The inside was cluttered and disorganized. The owners—probably out of necessity and in an effort to stock as many items as possible—somehow managed to fill every inch of shelf, floor, and countertop. Even the walls were crammed with items for sale. And where there weren’t actual wares, there were signs with products that could be ordered.
It was almost as cold inside the store as it was outside. Violet was glad she’d worn her snow boots and her heavy winter coat on the ride up, and that she’d put her hat and scarf back on before getting out of the car.
It was easy to fill Chelsea’s requests, and then it just took a few more minutes for the rest of them to stock up on chips, beef jerky, pop, and an assortment of snacks, including the pack of Oreos that Jay bought for Violet.
Violet thought briefly about calling her parents, just to let them know that they’d made it up the mountain safely. She’d seen the pay phone lodged tightly into an open space between the ice cooler and a shelf piled high with motor oil and propane tanks. Just above the phone, there was a small corkboard littered with colorful sticky notes and scraps of paper.
But she dismissed the idea almost immediately. Her parents weren’t expecting her to call unless there was a problem, and Violet was trying to be more independent, to prove to them that they could trust her to be safe on her own. Calling them to “check in” felt like it would defeat that purpose.
So she passed by the phone without a second glance on her way to the cashier.
If she would have stopped, she would have noticed the message pinned there.
Addressed to her.
Jay had decided to park his car down by the road rather than to risk the steep and winding driveway leading up to the cabin. He was afraid it would get trapped in the thick layers of snow there.
And even though Mike’s dad’s truck was gone, it was apparent that he’d already been there, by the newly plowed tracks he’d left. But Violet agreed with Jay that it wasn’t worth taking the chance. Jay’s car wasn’t equipped, even with the snow chains, to make it up such a treacherous grade. Not in this weather.
So they’d been forced to carry their things up the hill to the cabin. It wouldn’t have been that difficult had it not been for the nearly two feet of snow they had to wade through. Fortunately, they were able to walk in the tracks of Mike’s dad’s truck.
It seemed that the crackers and Sprite had worked their magic on Chelsea’s upset stomach, because she was back to herself again by the time they’d arrived. Violet even heard her apologizing to Mike for being so “grumpy,” a word she’d never heard Chelsea use before. Especially not in that octave.
Mike’s family “cabin” was less the picturesque mountain lodge that Violet had imagined and more a shelter-from-the-elements kind of structure. Like a shack, sort of. With plumbing.
But what it lacked in electricity, phone lines, and heat, it made up for in sparse furnishings, a tiny kitchen, and a generally musty odor. Its saving grace was an oversized fireplace, with a fire already blazing when they arrived, filling the space with warmth that Violet could feel inviting her inside even before they’d stepped over the threshold.
“Wow,” Jay breathed appreciatively, and Violet recognized immediately that rustic was his kind of place. “This is so cool. How long have you guys had it?”
Mike shrugged, dropping his worn duffel bag on the floor, and Violet could have sworn she saw a puff of dust rising around it. “I think it used to belong to my grandparents, and when they died, my parents got it.”
“So where’s your mom? You never talk about her. Is she coming too?” Claire asked as she prissily brushed her hand across the seat of a wooden dining chair before setting her expensive suitcase on it. Leave it to Claire to bring a designer bag into the woods.
Chelsea glared disapprovingly at Claire, answering for Mike. “Mike’s mom doesn’t live with them anymore. And he doesn’t like to talk about it.”
But Mike just shrugged and added, “It’s okay. She took off a while back, and we don’t hear from her.” And then he put his finger up. “Hold on a sec.” He glanced toward the short hallway at the corner of the large living space. “Megan?” he yelled.
