Melissa Foster - Chasing Amanda

“Tell me, Erik,” she said.

“There’s this guy, Mom,” his voice was quiet, yet rushed. “He’s in the dark, well, mostly in the dark. He rocks—forward and back, like that autistic kid did in that show you made me watch? Son Rise? He says stuff, too, but I don’t really know what,” Erik paused, “but I think it’s something important.”

Molly gripped the phone so tightly that her knuckles were white. “What else?”

“I’m afraid, Mom. I’m afraid of the other things I saw,” he was almost whispering.

“Erik,” Molly swallowed, then urged, “there’s something big going on here at home.” She didn’t want to upset him, but every sense in her body told her that she needed to hear what he saw. “Please, Erik. Please tell me. It might help.”

He took a deep breath. Molly envisioned his worried face, the way the right side of his mouth would quiver with each word and his brown eyes would open wide as he concentrated. Molly saw the troubled face of the boy he was, not the young man he had become. “I saw a girl. It totally freaked me out.” The words tumbled uneasily from his mouth. “Oh, Erik,” Molly said. “I’m so sorry, honey.” “What, Mom?” his voice became louder as his frustration grew. “What the hell is it? Who is she?” “I think she’s the little girl who’s missing, but I don’t know that.” “Oh, great!” Erik said, sarcastically. “This is freakin’ great, Mom.” Molly could hear his panic rise.

“Well, guess what—there’s more. The little girl was in some kind of a...I don’t even know what,” he yelled, “a freaking hole! She was in a freaking hole in the goddamn ground, Mom!” his voice cracked.

“Erik, listen to me,” she paused, listened to his breathing. “Erik, you probably—”

“Don’t even say it, Mom,” he warned. “I’m not like you, Mom. I know you’re going to say it’s a vision or something, but it’s not.”

“Erik, listen. Please, don’t hang up!” she pleaded. “It’s horrible. This little girl’s been missing for a few days, and Erik,” she closed her eyes tight, hoping he would not hang up, “I had the same dream.” Her revelation was met with silence. “Erik?” she said tentatively. As the phone remained silent, Molly grew anxious. “Erik!” she demanded.

“What!” he said harshly. “Jesus Christ, Mom. What do you want me to say?” he yelled. “I just freaking saw a missing girl in a hole, and you want me to talk about it?”

“Erik, you can help her. I know you don’t really believe in this stuff, but you can help her. You have to help her. Please!” Molly’s heart felt as though it were going to burst through her chest.

“That’s just it, Mom,” Erik answered, “I do believe in this stuff,” he said sheepishly.

Molly let out a sigh of relief.

“But I don’t want to,” Erik said. “Don’t you think I’ve seen what you go through—what you’ve gone through all these years? There’s always something that you just know . Goddamn it, Mom!” he said angrily. “I don’t want to be like you!”

Molly bristled. His words stung. “I’m sorry.” She wiped her tears, wishing she could erase his memory of the images. “Honey, I know this is hard, but do you know where she was?” she asked.

“Uh-huh, sort of,” he said. Molly could hear the tension in his words, his desire not to reveal what he saw.

“Erik, please,” she pleaded.

“Fine, whatever! I saw woods and could hear kids in the background, okay? And, no, I don’t know where exactly, but it sounded like she was near a park, or a school, or some shit like that.” He took a deep breath.

Molly waited.

“There’s more. I’m pretty sure I saw Hannah Slate kneeling over her.” He spoke through clenched teeth, “What the hell, Mom?”

Molly eyes grew wide. “I’m not sure, Erik.” She tried to waylay his fears—and her own, “I’m sure it’s nothing. Hannah helped search for her. That’s probably what you saw.”

“The guy, Mom—you have to find him. I think he’s trapped somewhere. I think he needs to get out. I think he was trying to say something important.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll do everything I can to find him—and to find Aman—Tracey.” She decided to go one step further, “Erik, did you feel anything when you saw her?”

Erik didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t feel anything other than being totally freaked out when I woke up—but Mom, find that guy, please. I don’t know why, but it’s really important that you find him—soon.”

“I will. I promise to hunt him down!” She laughed, heard Erik utter, “Jesus Christ!” and added, “Really, honey. I’ll try—and if I can figure this all out, I’ll call you right away.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Good.” His voice softened, like the boy he used to be, “Mom, what if she’s…you know…like Amanda?”

Molly braced herself against the back of the bed. “She’s not, Erik,” she closed her eyes and said, “I’m sorry that you have to go through this. I hoped that you wouldn’t have these…abilities.” Molly’s sadness hung in the air.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re probably happy that you have a kid who’s just like you.”

His sarcasm was not lost on Molly, who smiled at his ability to remain positive about something that just might change his entire life.

Molly unwrapped the bandage from her hand and touched the T which had become a simple scar. She wondered how it could have healed so quickly, but like so many other aspects of her life, accepted it without too much deliberation. She poked at it, curled her fingers into a fist, and stretched them as far as she could—the scar did not tear. It had become as sturdy as the rest of her palm. The T had become a part of her—a constant reminder of the little girl who was yet to be found.

Molly showered, turning away from her own naked reflection in the mirror, Geez, I look like Mom already , she thought. Molly had always thought she’d be able to outrun the aging process, and as she took in her own image, she realized that age lays claim to a body without any fanfare; a few extra pounds here, a little less muscle there, until one day, in the mirror appears a wrinkled face that seems foreign. She turned away from the mirror to dress and began making her mental to-do list.

At her computer, she checked her email and found one new message from Newton Carr:

Hello Molly. I hope you’re feeling better. You looked rather ill the other night. I cannot take you to the Perkinson House. The Perkinson family has requested that only Pastor Lett walk the property. I do apologize, but I must respect their request. Several family members died in their house and with the rumors of ghosts on the property they’ve had issues with curious teens. I’d be happy to tell you all about it, but I’m sorry I can’t take you there.

Take care, Newton.

P.S. There is no electricity turned on as far as I know.

“Great,” Molly sat back in her chair, deflated. “Ghosts. That’s all I need.”

Molly stepped inside the Country Store, and the familiar bell chimed above the door. “Hello!” Jin called from the back of the store. Molly poured herself a cup of coffee, “Hey, Jin, how are you?” Jin came to the front of the store, “Fine, fine, and you?” “Great. Tired.” “It’s late for you. What happened?” he asked. “Don’t even ask!” Molly laughed. “I was up all night. I’m whipped!” she took a sip of coffee and grimaced at the taste. Jin pointed to the cup, “Coffee? No water?” “Not today. Today I need some fake energy!” “No running?” he asked. Molly had become accustomed to Jin’s clipped sentences. The back door of the store opened and closed, and Molly turned to see Edie slip into the office and close the door. “Tomorrow,” Molly said, distracted. “Today I’m making sure my ankle is okay.” She paid for her coffee and turned to leave. “Rodney. He did not kill that girl.” Jin’s serious tone stopped Molly in her tracks. “He did not do it.”