Chapter Two The Ambush
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It was a ten minute drive to her dad’s house, but Brie stopped by her landlord’s place first to drop off her key, then by a favorite family restaurant to pick up takeout on the way. She drove the streets on autopilot and realized this was the last time she’d be able to do so for a long while. Geography and spatial orientation were not among her strengths. She relied entirely on her phone’s maps and navigator to get her to and from every new destination. She winced at the realization that she’d likely spend the next several months perpetually lost. For the first time, she felt a pang in her heart at the prospect of losing the familiar.
She turned onto her dad’s street and rolled to a stop by the curb. The grass needed mowing. She hadn’t had a chance to do that this past week. She wondered if she should call the boy who lived next door, maybe see if she could pay him a little each month to keep the place looking decent, assuming her dad didn’t frighten him off.
The old Chevy was out front, with grass growing underneath, parked in the spot farthest from the house. The area nearest the front door, where her mom’s Buick sedan had always parked, remained empty. Brie and her dad never spoke about it openly, but they both knew never to park there. It remained a shrine, as though she were going to come home any day now.
Brie walked up the cracked cement path to the porch with her sleeping bag in one hand and a takeout bag in the other, raising a finger to ring the bell. She hesitated. Part of her wanted to fetch the spare key from below the potted geraniums and let herself in. A stronger part realized this wasn’t her home anymore and hadn’t been for some time. She rang the bell.
Her father answered the door in bleary confusion. “Brie? What are you doing here?”
She offered him an uncertain smile, suddenly regretting her impulsive decision to come.
“Hi, Dad. You called me, remember? Asked me to stop by before I left? I thought maybe I could spend the night. We could catch up.”
He continued to stare in silence, and she shifted awkwardly on the porch.
“Can I come in?” she finally asked.
He blinked twice, then took a step backward, opening the door. She heard the bottle clink against the doorknob before she saw it. She chose to ignore it and walked into the house.
It had been a while.
Nothing had changed, not since that day. Things had been occasionally cleaned, but nothing had been moved — not one chair rearranged, not one painting rehung — since her mother’s death. There were no photos of life after that fateful day. It was a house locked in time. And it was a mess. Bottles and pizza boxes littered the floor. Takeout containers and unopened mail piled up in corners. Cobwebs occupied every corner of the ceiling.
A pang of guilt shot through Brie’s heart.
If this is how he’s coping now, what will he be like when I’m gone?
He returned to his place on the couch, where the cushions had worn to his imprint years ago — one depression from his elbow, another one for his thigh. She had the sad thought that the couch knew him better than anyone living.
“So, you’re off tomorrow then, huh?” he said, slurring the edges of his words.
He set the half-empty bottle on a side table, a little too hard. She moved a pile of papers and perched on the chair beside him, watching as he turned back to the television as if she wasn’t there. As if he couldn’t bear to look.
“Yes, I’m off tomorrow. Did you open the shop today, Dad?”
“Don’t you worry about the shop or about me. It’s handled, little missy.”
She set down the bag she was carrying on the coffee table. “I brought your favorite. Pastrami on rye and vegetable soup.” She tried to keep her voice light and playful, searching his face for any hint of affection, any sign that coming here had been a good idea.
“I’ll eat when I’m hungry, Brie.”
Her heart sank. “I’m going to get some water. Do you want a glass?”
“I’ll take some ice.” He shook the vodka bottle in her direction.
She tried not to react and went to the kitchen.
Her eyes were naturally drawn to the crack on the island where she and her mother had accidentally chipped the tile sword fighting with wooden spoons. And there was the place where they’d made pancake batter together with cinnamon and bananas. And there was the place where her dad had accidentally burnt her fifth birthday cake, and they’d all laughed.
Stop it , she told herself. You know where this leads, and this is hard enough as it is.
She filled one glass with water, the other with ice, and made her way back to the living room. Her dad hadn’t moved. He took the glass from her hand and poured it high. Too high.
She sat down to sip her water and watched him discreetly. When had his face become so weathered? His cheeks so sunken? His clothes seemed too big for him, and he suddenly reminded her of a small child.
She cleared her throat. “Dad, have you reconsidered my offer?”
“To move to Virginia with you?” He took a swallow of vodka and wiped his chin before turning his attention to the wrapped sandwich he pulled from the bag. “No, thank you.”
“Well, maybe you could plan to visit a few times?” she pressed hopefully. “Come see where I’m living? Who knows, maybe Virginia will start to grow on you.”
“I am never leaving my shop, Brie, and I am never leaving this house.”
She fell silent, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her lip quiver or the years of emotion clouding behind her eyes. Her only solace was that she wouldn’t cry. She hadn’t cried in years. She didn’t even know if she could.
She recovered herself and retrieved her sandwich from the bag. They ate in silence, watching mindless TV and avoiding eye contact.
Just like old times.
After a while, she yawned and realized her foot had fallen asleep. The grandfather clock struck ten. She got up and paced downstairs a few times before circling restlessly back to sit on the arm of the couch. She cleared her throat softly. “I’m a little tired, and I was thinking I’d sleep in my old room if that’s alright.”
His eyes never left the screen. She tried again.
“I was going to try to get an early start. I don’t want to wake you.”
He gave her a curt nod. “Goodnight, Brie.”
They sat inches from each other, yet worlds apart. “Goodnight, Dad.”
She turned and walked to the stairs.
I love you.
With a feeling of profound fatigue, she trudged up the stairs, threw her sleeping bag onto her childhood bed, and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
She didn’t see the little shimmer of golden light float to a corner of her room and settle in for another in an endless series of watchful nights.
She never saw it. It made sure of that.
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“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord…”
Brie woke the following morning to the dulcet tones of Johnny Cash singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” She blinked in confusion, then groaned.
I’m never letting Sherry borrow my phone again.
She splashed some water on her face and rolled up her sleeping bag, casting a final look around the room. It was frozen in time, just like the rest of the house. A child’s room, filled with neon nail polish and old paperbacks she’d long outgrown. The room of a child who had started out with great purpose then lost her way.
She tiptoed downstairs as quietly as possible to find her dad asleep on the couch, right where she’d left him. She put down her things, eased the empty bottle out of his hand, and put it in the empty takeout bag along with all the trash she could fit. She disposed of it silently in the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. She put out an empty mug on a saucer for her dad, then filled a glass with water and placed it on the coffee table with two aspirins, where he’d see it as soon as he woke up. Another childhood routine. One she no longer questioned.
She picked up her bags and turned to leave, then hesitated and came back.
After another parting look, she gently kissed her father’s forehead, whispering in the quiet room, “I love you, Dad.”
A second later, she was walking out the door to her car and turning the key in the ignition, suddenly anxious to get to her new apartment and her new life as quickly as possible.
She told Siri the address and asked for directions, which it started disseminating straight away, as though she couldn’t be trusted to get out of her own driveway. The street rolled away beneath her, but when she looked around for a final glance at her house, she was surprised to see her dad on the porch, staring at her with a fathomless expression.
She rolled down the window quickly, thinking something might be wrong. “Dad?”
He stood there for a moment, then held up his hand in a gesture she hadn’t seen since she was a child. It was sign language — all fingers extended except the middle and ring, which were pointed down towards the palm. I love you. They used to make it all the time. Her throat tightened, and she held up her hand in reply, offering him a tentative, hopeful smile. He returned it tightly, as if his mouth had nearly forgotten how, then more naturally as he gave a little wave.
“Good luck,” he mouthed.
She nodded, then accelerated away, driving off towards her new life.
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Alright. This is good. Don’t worry about him. You’ll call and check up on him. You need to DO this, Brie. You need to move forward and live your life. This is a good thing. Onwards and upwards. A new chapter, new possibilities, a brand new—
A light flashed on the dashboard, and her newfound momentum suddenly paused.
Out of coffee. Out of gas.
She bit her lip, slowed to a stop, then reluctantly veered off the main road and towards the nearest gas station, vowing to edit this bit in later memoirs of her life.
After this, things will be good. Right after this.
After two stops at Texaco and Starbucks, she was back on the road, latte in hand, feeling significantly more prepared to meet the challenges of the day. Hours passed as she listened to music and let every single car pass her while she stayed in the slow lane, as far away from large trucks as possible, opting to take frontage roads and backcountry routes whenever available. Call it a trauma response, but she had a thing about oncoming traffic and avoided large, fast-moving highways whenever she could.
She stopped in Charlotte to grab a quick bite and ate in the car.
“Siri? How much further to Yorktown?” she asked her phone.
“ It is four hundred forty-six point four miles to Yorktown, Virginia, ” Siri answered.
Brie nodded before clarifying, “And how long will that take?”
“ The remainder of your drive is five hours and seven minutes, Sexy Beast, ” came the reply. Brie paused mid-chew and silently reminded herself to figure out how to change the settings on her phone before any of her new colleagues heard that.
She threw out the chocolate cupcake that had come complimentary with her meal and got back on the road. After the accident, two of her childhood loves had disappeared for good: her love for speed and her chocolate frosting addiction. It had never tasted the same.
Before long, pines reached skyward, interspersing themselves among the ancient oak trees as the road began to wind in earnest. Towns became fewer and farther between. She drove past giant slabs of limestone jutting from the earth, lovely groves of apple trees overlooking little vineyards, and actual amber waves of grain. Before she knew it, she passed the Welcome to Virginia sign and let out a little whoop of excitement.
“See that?” she asked her plant. “We’re nearly there. And you wanted to stop for tacos.”
The plant received this with its signature stoicism. She patted it all the same.
“I know you have your doubts, but you’ll see. I have a good feeling about this place. It’s a prestigious hospital, you know. I’m sure Sherry had to bat her eyelashes at somebody over there to convince them to hire me, or I don’t know if I’d ever have been accepted fresh out of school.” She took another sip of her now-cold dregs of coffee and looked firmly at the road ahead of her before whispering to herself, “I think Mom would be proud.”
When it happened, they were just off Highway 311, near Madison County.
The plant was stubbornly disintegrating, and she was playing with her necklace while vowing to broaden her social circle when the pendant suddenly glowed red-hot.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, looking down to see what could possibly be on fire. She stared in shock for a split second before yelling, “Ow — OUCH!”
The car itself was forgotten as she let out a screech, clawing frantically at her chest and trying to remove the metal sizzling against her skin. A simple chain, yet it seemed strangely reluctant to come off. She braced her knees against the steering wheel and attacked the thing with both hands, lifting it over the crown of her head.
The second she did, everything changed.
A burst of cold air hit the back of her neck, chilling the entire car. The windows crackled as ice slowly formed a thin film, obstructing her view. She looked around in confusion, her breath clouding suddenly in front of her.
That’s when she saw it. Through the ice, there it was — the monster from her nightmares, in the middle of the road.
Oh, my God…
Acting on nothing but instinct, she dropped the chain back over her head and swerved to avoid the creature, only to let out a piercing scream as three more winged horrors swooped down on her, attacking the car on all sides.
One ripped the trunk door clean off and scrambled its way inside. As she whirled around to look, still screaming, the car drifted for a second before hitting the curb exactly wrong. Her forehead hit the steering wheel with a sickening crack, and she went limp.
Then, all at once, the image shifted.
The world turned upside-down as the car flipped twice and landed on the roof, leaving her floating in and out of consciousness, the necklace hanging precariously from her hair.
Memories splintered. The picture began to fade.
There was a flash of white, a hellish noise, and an impossible creature dissolving into thin air. Like nails on a tortured chalkboard, shrieks ripped through the once peaceful woods. More flashes of light, a muted hiss, then quiet. A sudden, breathless quiet.
The sound of footsteps.
It felt like hours but must have been minutes later when a pair of strong, gentle hands slid under her head and shoulders, lifting her from the car as though she were as light as a child’s toy. The moment they touched her, nothing else mattered. The dizzying chill vanished, and the sun filtered warm through the trees. It felt like Christmas morning when she was five. She felt protected and loved, wanting for nothing. The hands settled her onto the street with infinite care.
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she found herself gazing up into a pair of bright blue eyes. Eyes that looked exactly the same as they’d looked five years ago.
“Hello, Brianna. I told you we’d meet again.”
Brie took a few shallow breaths, staring up at him in bewilderment, near-blinded by his beauty, stunned senseless by that perfect, impossible visage.
She punched him in the face.
Then she passed out cold.