Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

Minutes go by with no sign of Cujo. It has to be about time for him to arrive. I go to the car to check the time, making sure to watch my back. It’s a quarter after six. If he’s going to come, it should be very soon.

Feeling more daring, I go out of the garage to look around. Maybe he’s hiding. I wait for what seems like forever, my heart beating out of my chest with nervous excitement, but he never comes. I go back to the car and see it’s now six thirty. I know for sure in previous days he came before this. It looks like he isn’t going to come.

Since I have my gun, I might as well have some fun while I’m out here. I really want to shoot this thing no matter how much my arm hurts. I go out of the garage and look for something to use as a target. I don’t see anything other than trees and cabin to shoot at. Cabin it is!

I make sure to get a good distance away and aim for the corner of the garage. I’m tired of shooting trees.

I put the gun into my right shoulder and stretch out my left arm as far as it will allow me. When I pull the trigger, my shoulder blasts back. The sound is much louder than I anticipate as smoke goes up in the air. When it dissipates I get to see the damage I’ve caused.

“Awesome!”

There’s a decent little hole in the side of the garage. This is what I’ve been waiting for! I’ve even managed to avoid shooting my eye out. It’s tempting to go on a shooting rampage, but I better not press my luck, so I head back inside.

As I eat a wondrous bowl of cereal for the umpteenth time in the last few days, my mind drifts to Cujo. I really thought he’d come back to life and attack me again. After all, he’s always been there around six o’clock, as I painfully know. It doesn’t matter how far I travel — from Ohio to Tennessee to… wherever the hell I am now — he’s somehow managed to follow me.

The same thing with Tabby, who has her head rested against my foot sleeping. I’m loving this precious little kitty more and more. It’s so strange how she seemed to appear out of thin air in the woods. I wish I’d had my eyes open to see if that’s exactly what happened.

What will happen if she’s with me the next twenty-four hours? At four o’clock will there be two kitties? I don’t think I can handle twins yet.

Then there’s the black car. That black fucking car with nobody inside of it. At first, I thought it was some self-driving technology car programmed by a human being messing with me. Now I would bet more money that it’s another magical mystery with no good explanation.

If I see that car tomorrow, I plan on crashing into the damn thing just to see what happens. If this is all a prank, somebody is in for an entertaining day tomorrow.

Darkness sets in so I put my bowl in the sink, still too lazy to put it in the dishwasher, then make my way upstairs to the master bedroom. My furry friend is still scampering beside me.

My king size bed is there waiting for me, sheets untucked just as I like them. Before I lie in bed, I go out to the balcony and think about the day and the last week. As I sit on the chair and look out at the full moon, Tabby hops onto my lap and begins purring while I pet her.

I wish I had a functional alarm clock. I want to make sure I have enough time to pay my black car a visit. I get the idea to shoot at one of their tires. This seems better than slamming into it with my car. I’m a lousy shot but if it drives right past me I’m sure I could at least hit it.

“How does that sound to you, Tabby?”

She looks up at me with a confused look.

“Come on, let’s go inside and go to bed.”

When I tuck myself in, I still sleep on the right side. Even though I have all of this extra space, I can’t break the habit of sleeping next to Abby. The cat hops up to bed with me and lies down on the left side, giving me another reason not to sleep in the middle.

I thought today was going to be a relaxing day of recovery but, again, it was for from it. As my head hits the pillow, my thoughts about the day and the week seem to fade. All that’s left are thoughts of Abby. I have more and more doubts if she — like everyone else — is on this planet. I know she’s somewhere out there though, even if it’s only in spirit.

And with that thought, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep, Tabby lying by my side.

I’m awakened in the morning not by the sunlight coming in, but by the feeling of a cat licking my face. Most people would find this gross, but I think it’s adorable.

“What do you think, Tabby? Is today going to be a good day?” I ask as I look at her.

I wouldn’t call it a meow, but she does give off some kind of chirp sound. Of course, that could be her way of telling me to put her down.

Holding her makes me realize my left arm feels much better today. It still hurts but at least I can extend it all the way out. My entire body is much improved. If yesterday was a nine out of ten on the pain scale, today is more like a four.

With no time to waste if I want to see the black car, I make my way downstairs to check the time. Seven thirty in the morning — just enough time to eat and get my supplies ready.

Tabby comes downstairs and it occurs to me she hasn’t eaten anything since I’ve seen her. She drank what seemed like the entire creek yesterday, which was filled with six days worth of my body odor. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her lick my face.

“Poor Tabby, you must be starving.”

I grab an extra bowl and fill it with cereal. To my surprise, when I put it down she doesn’t seem too eager to dig in. She gives it a sniff then walks away.

“What, are you not a cereal fan? I’m sorry; I don’t have any other food for you. I’ll see if I can get you some later.”

I wasn’t planning on going out to find a grocery store today but with the way my arm feels, I might. First I have a date with the black car, though.

I eat my cereal as quickly as I can and start rounding up my supplies. Ax — check. Gun with ammo — check. Water and aspirin — check.

What else do I need? If I still had my siphon I could make sure I’m all topped off, but unfortunately I don’t have that option. I’d almost forgotten about my car’s mysterious disappearance. I still have no good explanation for that. Like murder mysteries, I’ll probably never find out.

Unable to think of anything else to take with me, I make my way to the garage. As I do, Tabby rushes ahead of me to the door.

“Hey girl, I’m not sure it’s a good idea that you come for this.”

I use my foot to try to push her away, but she’s a sneaky little gal. When I close the garage door behind me she manages to get past me and jump in the car.

“You little twerp,” I say affectionately. “Alright, I guess you can come. ”

Tabby sits in the front passenger seat. When I get in I put my loaded gun and other supplies next to her. It feels very unsafe; I’m the worst parent EVER!

Anxiousness builds inside me and I tell myself to relax. After all, if I shoot and miss I can always come back the next day. This is assuming the car even comes (which there’s no guarantee of).

I turn the car on and make my way down the long gravel driveway. I check the time and it’s only eight o’clock but I want to give myself plenty of time. Most people agree it’s a good quality to be punctual, and I agree. But it can be stressful never being late.

As I make my way toward the highway, I approach the turn that leads to Cujo’s house. Waiting by the highway for an hour will drive me crazy so I decide to check up on him. When I get there, it’s hard to see where he is until I get right up next to the driveway. When I do, I see Cujo is now gone!

I have no doubt I’m looking in the right spot. As traumatic as that event was, I can probably get out and point within one inch of the spot he was laying in only a day before.