Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Half an hour later, seated in the one restaurant in town and digging the most delicious chicken salad sandwich I’d ever had in my life, I was willing to admit that maybe my first impression of Goldwood had been a little too harsh.
The inside of the Sunshine Cafe was bright and cheery with just the right amount of old-fashioned touches, like I’d always imagined a grandmother’s kitchen would be.
There were floral tablecloths and vintage salt-and-pepper shakers.
The wallpaper was white with yellow stripes, and blue calico valences hung above the giant, airy windows that lined the front of the seating area.
More importantly, the people who ran the place were friendly. From the second the bells above me chimed when I pushed open the door, I was greeted with a smile from a woman who looked to be in her early sixties.
Vera, the owner of the cafe, showed me to a table, apologizing that the ones with the best view of Main Street were already taken, and then promised to bring me a freshly brewed cup of coffee to make up for it.
The woman was so genuinely welcoming that by the time I sat down in my solid but creaking wooden chair, my shoulders had started to relax back down to their normal position.
“So what brings you out to Goldwood?” Vera asked when she returned, placing a white earthenware cup in front of me. Deliciously fragrant steam rose in tendrils from its top. “Excuse my curiosity, but we don’t get many visitors to our town.”
No, I didn’t imagine they did.
Of the four other tables, two were occupied by farming families, another by a woman wearing a polo shirt emblazoned with the logo of the town’s general store, and the last was taken by a couple of MPs from the local military outpost.
I regurgitated the lie I’d told Deke about the photography project and watched as the woman’s gently lined face lit up. And she wasn’t the only one. The rest of the patrons hadn’t been subtle with their eavesdropping, and once they heard my story, they turned around in their seats to face me.
“Do you just want pictures of the town or people too?” The store clerk’s question didn’t surprise me. If there was one thing I knew, it was how much people loved having their picture taken.
“Actually, I specialize in portraiture.” It was the truth. Maybe not the kind of portraits they were envisioning, but portraits all the same.
Besides, the more I was around the people in town, the more questions I’d be able to ask about the Wilds. And who knew? Maybe someone here held the key to the mystery that had haunted my life for the past seven years.
“Are you only interested in Goldwood?” one of the soldiers asked, a guy with the name Franklin embroidered on his fatigues. He looked to be around my age and was kind of cute in a babyface way. “Or the whole area? You know, the Wall and the army base and everything?”
Before I could answer, the second soldier playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “Why? You looking to become famous? You want your picture hanging in some fancy gallery?”
The guy’s mocking laughter filled the cafe, giving me a brief second to think.
These soldiers lived and worked right alongside the Wall. If anyone here knew secrets about the ferus living behind it, it was them. I’d be a fool to not find out what they knew.
“Actually, yes,” I answered Franklin’s question with a smile. “I’d like to capture all I can about life up here. Down in the cities, we don’t see much representation of life in areas like this. I’d like to show people the truth.”
“The truth?” The jaded soldier scoffed. “Well, I hope you didn’t come up here with hopes of filling your camera with action shots, ‘cause let me tell you, everything about this place is dead boring. Ain’t nothing but dirt and trees and other green shit. Nothing ever happens.”
Vera visibly stiffened at the soldier’s insolent tone. “Some of us like the quiet life.”
“James.” Franklin’s eyes narrowed as he tried to shush his unruly friend. “Remember what the sergeant said about not pissing off the town folk. One more complaint and you’ll be stuck digging latrines while the rest of us are out drinking.”
The other soldier shot Franklin a dirty look, but shut his mouth.
And honestly, I was with Vera on this one. Boring was fine by me. Especially when it came to the Wall and the monsters behind it.
All I wanted was answers. Not action.
Speaking of answers…
“Do any of you happen to know a guy named Tauren?” I asked the room at large, letting hope take root in my heart. “I was told he lived in or around Goldwood.”
But that hope was quickly squashed as series of confused looks shot back and forth across the room.
“Tauren?” Vera asked, her brows pulling together. “What kind of name is that?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “I’ve never actually met the man, but I was told he could help me…with the photo shoot, of course.”
“Well, there’s no one by that name in town.” The older woman sounded certain of that. She looked over at the farming families. “Have you heard that name?”
They all shook their heads.
“What about out on the base?” she tried with the soldiers.
“Who knows, ma’am,” Franklin answered. “We’ve got about a thousand troops stationed there right now. There’s no way I can know all their names.”
I tried not to let disappointment take over. There were still plenty of people in town to ask: residents of Goldwood, customers at Deke’s Tavern, soldiers on the streets.
He had to be here somewhere—the man I’d called out to every night. The only man I trusted with my life.
The hours flew by. Vera insisted that I stay and sit until Deke was ready to open the bar. I probably downed a whole pot of coffee before I finally spotted him striding past the cafe window. Jumping up from the table, I thanked Vera, promised to see her tomorrow, and rushed out the door.
I caught up with Deke as he was unlocking the tavern door.
“Hey, thanks for pointing me toward Vera,” I said as he nodded his head in silent greeting. “She was invaluable.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Deke mumbled, struggling with the rusty lock mechanism on the old glass door. “This town would fall apart without her.”
After another second of frustrated turning, Deke kicked the metal panel on the bottom of the door, and the hinges finally swung open, creaking like they hadn’t been oiled in decades. I followed him inside and watched as he went to a breaker panel behind the bar and switched on the lights.
The place looked just like I’d imagined a rural tap house would.
A handful of neon signs flickered to life on the walls—half of them broken in spots, the other half advertising long-gone brands.
An old-fashioned jukebox lit up behind two worn and weathered pool tables.
Half a dozen dusty bulbs clicked and buzzed above my head, pouring out just enough light to keep someone from tripping over the small collection of tables and chairs clumped together in the middle of the room.
Except for the line of cracked leather-topped stools lining the bar, the rest of the place looked to be standing-room-only, with a thin wooden shelf running along the walls for people to set their glasses.
Maybe Deke liked to keep a space clear for dancing. Or maybe it was room for fighting. Or maybe the people of Goldwood couldn’t be bothered to sit down to drink. They just wanted to down their beers and go.
I could believe any of those scenarios.
“Come on up, and I’ll show you the room,” Deke said, gesturing to the doorway behind the surprisingly well-stocked bar.
I followed him through it and up a wooden staircase that creaked with every step.
There were three doors along a hallway at the top of the stairs.
Deke pushed open the middle one. “Here it is.”
Just like he’d promised back at the gas station, there was a slender single bed pushed against one wall and a window facing down onto the street in the other…and not much else.
The space was small, but clean. No cobwebs hung in the corners. No thick layer of dust on the bed frame.
I walked over to the bed and sat on the mattress. To my surprise, it didn’t groan under the strain of my weight. In fact, it was surprisingly soft. Sure, not as nice as my bed back home, but not bad at all. I’d definitely slept on worse.
And most importantly, as advertised, the sheets looked and smelled fresh.
“Bathroom?” I asked.
“Down the hall on the left,” Deke answered. “It takes the hot water a minute to get up the pipes, so don’t be afraid to let it run.”
“And how do I get in and out of the building before you open?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key attached to a diamond-shaped plastic fob. “The room key also fits the back door,” he said, tossing it over to me. “Just make sure it closes all the way when you leave, or the critters from the alley will get in.”
Alley critters? Oh, joy.
“Will do.”
I’d hoped that was the end of the tour, but Deke didn’t leave the room. Instead, he silently stared at me for a moment before crossing his arms and leaning against the door jamb.
“So, uh, how long are you planning on staying?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I answered. “Probably until Monday.”
It all depended on how quickly I got the answers I needed. Which admittedly would be difficult, seeing as I wasn’t even sure what my questions were yet.
“Okay,” Deke huffed. “So, five nights will set you back $200.”
Oh yeah…money. I should have realized Deke wasn’t the settle-up-at-the-end type. I pulled out my wallet.
“No multiple-night discount?”
He smirked. “What do you think?”
Well, it was worth a try.
I pulled out a stack of twenties and walked them over.
“Pleasure doing business with ya’,” he said, pocketing the cash as he pushed himself off the wall.
I closed the door behind him and listened to the sound of his heavy frame marching down the steps before taking the two steps back to the bed.
Now that I was alone, the full weight of the day crashed down on my shoulders. With a deep sigh, I collapsed on top of the mattress, utterly exhausted.
Not tired. Not sleepy. But end-of-my-rope exhausted.
What the hell was I doing? Traveling four hundred miles from home on a whim, spending money I couldn’t spare on a tiny room above a dusty old bar, missing work, making promises I had no intention of following through with—none of this was like me.
They were the actions of a madwoman. Someone who’d become untethered from reality. Someone who’d lost their goddamn mind.
I stayed there, curled up on the mattress as time ticked by.
Below me, the sounds of the tavern came to life as I swirled around the edges of existential dread. Glasses clinked, and records played. Voices rose up through the floorboards while I debated what the hell I should do about this apparent mental breakdown.
Call a doctor? Cut my losses and drive back home? Make some calls and see if I could sweet-talk a small local gallery into showing my bullshit exhibition?
None of those answers felt right.
Making rash decisions was what had landed me here in the first place. I’d be better off staying right where I was, getting a good night’s sleep, and waiting until morning before taking any other action.
Grabbing my phone, I saw that it was eight o’clock—far too early to go to sleep. Especially now that there was a whole bar full of people who would hear me scream if the nightmare came early.
But not too early to go downstairs and have a beer. Hell, I might even relax and enjoy myself.
Who knew? Stranger things had happened.
Deke was behind the bar pouring drinks when I reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey, Hannah,” he called out as I climbed up on the closest stool. He tossed me something. Something soft that landed against my chest with a thwap. “I meant to give this to you earlier. Compliments of the house. I thought you could wear it at the opening of your show. You know, as advertising.”
I lifted up the gift, unfurling the ball of cotton fabric to reveal a light green T-shirt. The same color from my dream. Complete with the Deke’s Goldwood Tavern logo that had started this mad journey in the first place.
The T-shirt that, if my nightmare was right, I was going to die in.
A cold shiver ran up my spine.
So much for enjoying myself.