Cash

I told myself I didn’t want to know. That I can unknow. But all the way home that piece of paper was just about burning a hole in my pocket.

I was sweating and tired and all I really wanted to do was shower, chow down on a burger and take a nap. But I kept thinking about those dates. All those accidents and disappearances. Carrie and her cat. The cat she gave to Mr Bryson because she knew. And now she was dead.

I made a snap decision. I hurried down the stairs, hopped on my bike and cycled back downtown. The stationery and copy shop was open till six-thirty. I darted in, copied the log and the list of dates, bought a roll of bubble wrap, then climbed back on my bike and cycled home.

Mrs Grayson always had a nap after supper. I waited till I could hear her snoring and then I padded down the stairs and into the hall. In the cupboard under the stairs, there was a small toolbox. I grabbed it and tiptoed back up to my room. I looked around.

Under the window, the flooring had risen a little.

The window frame had leaked a while back (I’d fixed it with some wood filler since) and the damp had got under the boards.

I knelt and wedged a screwdriver in the loose section and prised up the laminate floor.

It came up pretty easy and I put the flooring to one side.

Next, I used a small handsaw to cut out a section of the underlay, revealing a small gap between the joists.

Just big enough. I took my photocopied papers, bound with elastic bands and wrapped in the bubble wrap, and wedged them into the gap.

I stared at them for moment and then I came to another decision.

I grabbed a writing pad, sat on the bed and I wrote out a note:

To who it may concern,

If you’re reading this, then I guess maybe something bad has happened to me.

I hope not. I hope I’m just being paranoid.

But if it has, then you need to take this stuff to the police out of town.

I think some bad things are happening here.

People are disappearing and dying in accidents, and it doesn’t seem right.

Take care,

Cash Leonards.

July 7th 2011

I peeled back the bubble wrap and slipped the note under the elastic bands. Then I stuck the floor back down as neatly as I could. It looked all right, if you weren’t looking too closely.

I had another idea. I dragged and pushed my bed across the room, so it was now against the wall by the window, covering the prised-up flooring.

Then I shifted the wardrobe and chest of drawers over to the wall where the bed used to be.

It kind of worked. I paused for a moment, listening for sounds of movement downstairs, worried I might have woken Mrs Grayson. But all was quiet.

The list of dates I put in my work pants for tomorrow. After my shift I planned to visit the library and look up some old newspapers. See if I could find any events that might match up with the dates.

Satisfied that I had everything covered and feeling pretty darn clever for once, I washed and brushed my teeth and slipped my pyjamas on. When my head hit the pillow, I fell straight asleep.

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