Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

Amelia’s cell phone went off-a low hum. Wiping her eyes, she reached inside her purse and checked the caller ID. “It’s that policewoman again, the one you told me about,” she said, her voice raspy. “Same number as last time.”

“Don’t answer it. I don’t want you talking to her or anyone else until we figure out what really happened. Let her leave another message.” She patted Amelia’s arm. “Listen, I think it’s best you lay low and stay at my place tonight. But I need to check out your story first.”

“What, are you driving to Port Angeles?”

“No, Cougar Mountain Park.” She glanced up at the sky. “And I’d like to get there before dark.”

“You can’t go alone,” Amelia said. “I should go with you.”

“No, you shouldn’t. If something really did happen in that forest yesterday, you’re in no condition to relive it. I’ll be back by six if traffic isn’t too nuts.” Karen got to her feet, and so did Amelia. “You’ll probably need some overnight things. Let’s swing by the dorm. We’ll call Shane and see if he can take you someplace for the next two or three hours. Maybe you guys can take in a movie.”

Amelia nodded. She pressed the keypad on her cell phone, and then listened to her voice mail. “Oh, no,” she murmured. “That policewoman, she and her partner are at the dorm now, waiting for me.”

“What?” Karen asked.

“She said she’s calling from the lobby downstairs at Terry Hall, and they want to ask me some questions.”

“Damn,” she whispered, rubbing her forehead. “Okay, call Shane. Tell him we need him to do something for us right away.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Shane emerged from the crowd in Red Square, the campus’s redbrick-paved central plaza and hub. He ambled toward them with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His blond hair was covered up with a stocking cap, and he wore a T-shirt over a long-sleeved T, and baggy jeans.

Jumping up from the park bench, Amelia ran to Shane and embraced him. They kissed feverishly. Amelia broke away, nodded toward Karen, and whispered something to him. Then holding hands, they approached her together.

Karen stood up. “Thanks, Shane. Did you have any problems?”

“Pulled it off without a hitch,” he said with a crooked grin. “You were right though, Karen. The two of them were sitting in the lobby-a nice-looking black chick, and this older white guy with Donald Trump hair. They looked like total narcs. But they hardly paid any attention to my coming and going.”

“Did you remember my robe?” Amelia asked with her arm linked around his. “And my copy of Washington Square ? I need it for English Lit.”

He kissed her forehead and pointed to his backpack. “It’s all in there, along with your black jeans, the pink T-shirt you sleep in, and everything else you wanted. I called the Neptune Theater while I was in your room. They’re showing a new print of The 400 Blows at 4:15. We’re all set.”

Karen glanced up at the sky, and guessed she only had about an hour of sunlight left. She didn’t want to start hiking down that forest trail after dusk. “Um, Shane, can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked.

“Sure, Karen, what’s up?” he said, uncoupling with Amelia for a moment, and stepping toward her.

“I need you to be very, very careful,” she whispered. “This may sound strange, but-”

“Are you telling him that I’m dangerous ?” Amelia asked in a loud voice.

Karen looked at her and sighed. “Amelia-”

“You should. He won’t believe it if I tell him.” Her voice cracked. “So warn him, Karen. Tell him to watch out for me. I don’t want to hurt him, okay?”

Karen patted Shane’s shoulder. “Amelia’s right,” she said in a low voice. “You need to keep an eye on her. If you notice a sudden change or a severe mood swing, call me.”

He chuckled. “Are you shitting me, Karen?”

“I’m serious, Shane,” she whispered. “You have my number, don’t you?

He nodded. The lopsided smile ran away from his face.

“Stay in public places with her,” Karen warned. “Make sure there are always other people around. Don’t let her out of your sight for a minute. I’ll see you in two or three hours.”

“Okay, Karen, sure thing,” he murmured. He looked like a hurt, confused little boy as he backed away from her. He slung his arm around Amelia again, and gave her another kiss on the forehead.

“Whatever she told you,” Amelia said, “it’s true. Okay?”

“Sure, it’s cool,” he muttered. But he wouldn’t look at Karen. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get out of here. We’ll be late for the movie.”

They started walking away. Amelia glanced over her shoulder. “Karen, be safe, okay?”

She nodded, and then watched them merge into the crowd of people mingling around Red Square. Karen glanced up at the sky again, and saw clouds moving across the slate-colored horizon. She didn’t have much time.

All too soon, it would be dark.

The other cars on Newcastle-Coal Creek Road had their headlights on. Karen reluctantly switched her lights on, too. It was like admitting defeat. She’d hoped to reach the hiking trail in Cougar Mountain Park before nightfall. But traffic on I-90 had been miserable, and the thirty-mile trip had taken nearly two hours.

Now it grew darker by the minute. Driving along the snaky, wooded road, she’d passed three parking areas for hikers and other visitors entering the wildlife area. Only a few cars occupied those lots, a bad sign, not many hikers left. As much as she didn’t need an audience for this gruesome expedition, Karen loathed the thought of being completely alone in those woods. It would have been nice to know someone was at least within screaming distance.

Karen slowed down as she drove past the fourth parking area: only one car, and no signs posted by the trail. Amelia had said they’d pulled into the fourth or fifth bay.

Biting her lip, Karen watched for the next parking area. She almost missed it, and had to slam on the brakes to turn in to the small, unlit alcove. There were only six spaces, and no other cars. She couldn’t even see the beginning of a trail. But then it was awfully dark.

She reached into the glove compartment for the flashlight, and then climbed out of the car. She glanced over at the trees and bushes bordering the alcove, and finally noticed a gap in the foliage. She saw a sign with a cartoon of Dennis the Menace, carrying a backpack. From the distance, Karen couldn’t read it in the dark. She shined the flashlight on it: “Don’t Be a Litterbug!” Someone had crossed out the Don’t. It was just as Amelia had said.

Karen couldn’t help wondering if everything else Amelia had told her would turn out to be true.

She kept the flashlight on, took a deep breath, and started down the trail. She could hear some people talking not very far away, and that made her feel a bit safer, but only for a few minutes. Soon, she saw them heading toward her, a middle-aged couple wearing hiking gear. They gave her a puzzled look, and Karen realized how odd she must have appeared, on a hiking trail, dressed in her black blazer and slacks, and a blue tuxedo blouse. “You aren’t just getting started, are you?” the man asked with concern.

“I’m only going for a mile or so,” Karen said. “There are still other hikers around, aren’t there?”

“I think you have the place to yourself,” the man replied. “We’re finishing up.”

“Be careful,” the woman said ominously. “There are bears in these woods at night, and cougars. It’s not called Cougar Mountain Park for nothing.”

“Thanks,” Karen said with a pale smile. “Good night.”