BEFORE THE STORM

To my left? Trees. To my right? Trees. As I drive along these twisting roads the trees turn into beautiful walls of different shades of green. It’s about midday, and it’s quite nice out. I have my window down, letting the wind blow through the car. I love the smells out here. It’s so different from the city. It’s refreshing. There’s something freeing about being alone in nature. I suppose I’m not really alone. I’ve passed a few cars, but just hearing the frogs and the crickets is relaxing.

The man at the car rental place that was connected to the airport talked me into renting a Hyundai Sonata. He said since I would be driving a while that this car would save me money due to having great gas mileage. He was right. It is a nice car. It’s shiny and silver. It’s very comfortable. And it has been good on gas, and I’ve got a few more hours of driving to go before I reach the little town. After that it’s only about ten miles to my house. Well, my family’s house.

I haven’t been to this house since I was really young. My family used to come out here for weekends when they could. I hardly remember it. I remember my dad would always clean his guns when we were there. Actually, now that I think about it, my uncles did too. I can remember the smell of the cleaner. It smelled horrible. It smelled like car oil mixed with soured milk. I wrinkle my nose up and the wind has to remind me that it is just a memory. My dad used to tell my cousins and I all these stories about the things that rest in the woods around our house. He would get so into it. He was a great storyteller. He really knew how to entertain people.

My dad passed away 10 years ago. He was diagnosed with cancer and two months later he was gone. One minute he was up and talking, and then he was just unconscious. The doctors said that it was due to the cancer reaching a certain area of the brain. He started hallucinating the week before he died. He knew who everyone was though. I remember sitting on my parents front porch and he started talking to me like I was a child again. He told me the stories he told when I was younger to scare us into bed. His stories were very vivid and detailed. They all had one thing in common though. They always involved someone or something in the woods that would stalk it’s victim and mess with them mentally. Sometimes there would be more than one. I told him that he should have written a book instead of me. He laughed. I’ll never forget that. My father’s last laugh. He had the best laugh.

I grab my cup of coffee from the cup holder and take a sip. It’s almost cold, which means I’ll have to stop at one of those small, sketchy gas stations and pray that they have a coffee maker. They should because I’ve seen a lot of truck drivers on this road. At least I think they would have one. Tired truck drivers equals lots of coffee stops. I know this because my mother is a truck driver. She delivers products to out of state stores from a factory. I hardly ever know what state she’s in. That’s what she’s doing now. She’s in Michigan. Maybe. She’s been behind that wheel for ten years strong and still loves it.

I haven’t been here since I was very young so I don’t recognize any of the scenery. It’s all just so beautiful. I can’t get over the lush green trees, and the fresh air. It’s so clean. Pure. I know that there is a lake somewhere near the house. There used to be a path in our backyard. The path lead to a hiking trail that lead you to the lake. No telling if it’s still there though, the path that is. Hopefully it’s still there.

I plan on hiking out there. It’s a long hike, but worth it if the lake is anything like I remember it. My cousins and I used to have stone skipping contests. I never won because I was so young, but it was still fun. I don’t remember much else about the lake, but thinking about the hike reminds me that I forgot to pack bug spray. The one thing I forgot to bring. I’m hoping that a gas station carries bug spray so I can bypass going through downtown Townsend. You’d assume that they would around here. If so, I can go straight to the house. Who knows what condition it’s in.

My uncle and his family spent all of last summer there remodeling and updating everything, but I don’t much trust my uncle’s taste in home décor. So I’m hoping that he let my aunt or cousins do most of the decorating. Who knows what I’m in for when I get there. The house itself, though, is very nice. It has two stories and this big deck. I hope that’s still there at least. It’s a big house on the inside as well. Big rooms, big windows, and high ceilings. There are bay windows almost everywhere. I hope they left those in too.

I absolutely love the scenery. I would enjoy waking up to a big view of the woods. . . or forest? Is there a difference? It would be much more pleasant than the view I have from where I live in the city. I’d much rather have all these trees. I’m just about to finish my thought when I think I see flashing lights. I can’t make out what kind. I take another drink of coffee and push up the sunglasses that had been shielding me from the bright beams that shine down through the tree cover. The lights are definitely police lights. I squint my eyes, trying to make out anything, but I’m still not close enough to tell what’s happening.

As I start to get closer I notice that there is some kind of road block, or maybe a checkpoint? Why would they be checking in the middle of the day? I toss my sunglasses into the passenger seat on top of my purse. There’s a car already stopped by the parked police car that’s sitting parallel to the road. There’s an officer talking to the driver. He glances in my direction as I am pulling up. I stop just behind the car, and put my car in park. It’s blue and old. The driver of the car in front of me is a man. I can hear his voice. I hear him say something about someone making noises outside his house, or someone is banging on the walls of his house.

I can make out very little, but I am straining to hear. I lean my head closer towards my rolled down window. He says that he has seen lights or fires in the woods from his window. The last thing I can make out is that he thinks that someone or something is in the forest and that the officer should be searching in the forest instead of harassing him. The officer says something back and the guy pulls away. The officer is shaking his head as I put the car back in gear and pull up to him. I look to the police car. It’s the typical Helena area cop car. It’s black and white, and has a brush guard on the front. I also notice a spotlight on the car. I have to remind myself that this isn’t like the city.

I stop right beside of the police officer. He’s dressed in the usual tan button up shirt and chocolate brown pants. I put the car in park and he bends down to look at me.

“Hello, sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m going to need to see your license and registration.” He has an accent. It’s nice. I like it.

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Just one second.” I pull my purse onto my lap, sending my sunglasses into the floor, and extract my little wallet. I slide my drivers license out from behind the plastic cover and hand it to him. He takes it and begins looking at it. It dawns on me that I am in a rental car. I have no registration. I remember the rental guy telling me something about the rental contract. I feel a little panicked. I don’t handle anxiety well.

“I am in a rental car. I’m not sure exactly what my registration is, but the guy told me something about my rental contract is my registration?” The cop looks at the car and then to me.

“Yes, ma’am. When using rental cars, presenting the rental agreement states that you have legal usage of the vehicle.” It’s not in my purse. I stuffed it into a pocket on one of my suitcases. That’s just great. I always have to make a scene. That’s just my luck.

“It is actually in my suitcase which is in the trunk. Can I. . . get it?” I don’t know anything about police and there rules. I do know that in the city, anytime someone starts to get out of the car the police get jumpy.

“Okay. If you could just retrieve it for me I would so greatly appreciate it.” I can’t tell if he’s being nice or if he’s being a smart-ass. I turn the car off and unbuckle my seat-belt, tossing my purse back to the passenger seat. When I open my door he grabs the top of the frame and holds it open for me.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for taking so much of your time. I knew I should have put it in my purse, but I just was in a hurry. I don’t like airports all that much.” I stand. I don’t look at him directly. Any kind of authority figure makes me a little nervous. I walk to the back of the car, not even bothering to close my door. I hear him close it though. I reach the back of the car and push the key into the lock. The trunk pops open. I grab my suitcase and start pulling it out.

“Here. Let me get that for you.” The police officer is at my side. He pulls my suitcase out effortlessly. I thank him as he places my suitcase in front of me. I unzip the front pocket quickly and pull out the papers. I place them in his hands. He looks at them for a moment and then speaks to me. I’m still not really looking at him.

“Okay, I need to go run these and then I will be right back.” He starts walking away, and over to his cruiser. This is the first time I take all of him in. He’s kind of tall. He has short brown hair. His ears stick out a little. I’m only looking at him from behind. I’m too awkward with people with authority to look directly in his face. I zip my suitcase back up and start shoving it back in the trunk. This is no easy task as I have three suitcases stuffed in the small trunk. As I am closing the trunk, I notice that he is walking back over towards me. He stops in front of me and reaches the papers out to me.

“Abagail Watson, New York. What brings you all the way out here?” I notice his accent again. This is the first time I look him in the face. He has the brightest green eyes. They’re kind. I notice the tip of a tattoo coming out of his collar onto his neckline. That’s odd, but I like tattoo’s. I have one myself. A small heart on my ankle. His eyes kind of draw you in.

“My, uh. My family actually owns a house just outside of Townsend. I’m on my way there.” He hands me my license as he looks me over.

“I actually am an officer dispatched from Townsend. I live just right on the edge of town. What brings you out here?” His voice is kind also. He seems to genuinely be interested to know. There’s no undertone.

“I’m actually a writer, and I decided that I need a break from the city. I needed some good ol’ fresh air and a whole lot of inspiration.” I notice that he’s smiling a bit when he speaks next.

“You know, it’s true what people say. ‘People from the city wish they lived in the country, and people from the country wish they lived in the city.’ I wish I could go to New York.” He sighs.

“Anyway, you can go on through. And sorry for the inconvenience.” He starts to back away towards his car. I stop him.

“I have a question. If you don’t mind.” I step towards him. He stops.

“I’ll do my best to answer.”

“What was that man just talking about? He said that something was banging around on his house?” He gives me a look. I’m not sure what it means until he starts talking.

“That man is a little off of his rocker. He lost his wife a while back and now he lives alone. He’s just losing bits of his mind and memory. I take it easy on him whenever I can. He likes to get into spats with a lot of people. I usually have to drive him home. You can’t take anything he says seriously.” I look at him for a moment, studying his expression before I speak.

“So you don’t think there was anything out there? That he imagined it or just hallucinated it?” He can tell I’m intrigued.

“I’m going to assume that you’ve heard about the murders. Those attacks are in no way related to anything going on in Townsend. All the attacks have been in Helena. There is no evidence to suggest that whoever, or whatever, will leave that area. You have nothing to worry about.” He gives me another smile. I replay the conversation in my head. The old man sounded serious, or even scared. Maybe he is just a crazy old man. I look at the time on my watch. Time is catching up to me and I want to get there before dark.

“Alright. I was just curious about the details I heard on this news report. But I really should get going. I’m trying to get there before dark.” I start moving towards the drivers door of my car and he mimics my movements as he is moving towards his car.

“You should make it just in time if you go now. Be safe and drive carefully! I’ll be back in Townsend tomorrow if you need m- If you need any assistance for any reason.” I laugh.

“Okay, thank you! I, uh, I never got your name?” I put my right hand above my eye-line to block the sun so I can see him.

“Jonathan Jones.” He waves as he opens his door and starts getting in.

“See you later, Officer Jones!” I laugh as I get in my car and close the door. Officer Jonathan Jones. I glance at him once more before I start the car again. He’s speaking into his radio. I’m not going to lie. He is handsome. I put the car in gear and start off down the twisty road again. The police cruiser and Officer Jones growing ever smaller in my rear-view mirror.

It’s only when I’m a few miles down the road that I start thinking about what that, for lack of a better word, strange man was telling Officer Jones. He said that someone or something was banging on the outside of his house. Did he mean that something was trying to get in? Maybe it was an animal, then? What kind of person goes around just banging on houses? Then I start thinking about the news report I listened in on at the airport. What if whatever had gotten those other people WAS in Townsend, and was trying to get into that strange, old man’s house? Could he possibly be in danger?

No. The police officer clearly said that whatever was happening was isolated to the city of Helena. How could he know that though? How could he really, really know for sure? I push the thoughts out of my head. I end up turning the radio on to help ease them out. I’m not afraid of being out here by myself. Not that much anyway. I start coming up with different scenarios of what is actually happening. I start imagining the strange man in his house late at night and some ignorant teenagers messing with him. All that does is make me angry at these imaginary teenagers for harassing the strange man. He was pretty old. There’s no winning with my brain. Either I’m nervous or angry.

As I look up from my speedometer, I spot a sign that displays that there is a service station in half a mile. If I remember correctly that means I am almost to my turn off. Then it will only be ten more miles. A few seconds pass before I see the small service station. I pull off the road and up to one of two pumps. As I was pulling up I ran over a small line that triggered some sort of dinging. It’s only when I’m getting out of my car do I realize what the dinging is. I’m closing my door when a teenage boy approaches me. He’s wearing dirty work clothes, possibly covered in oil or some other dark liquid. He smiles.

“Hello, ma’am. Do you need any services such as gasoline or maybe your oil checked?” He looks about eighteen or nineteen. I look at him for a moment. I almost get a little flustered thinking that he is one of those ignorant, imaginary teenagers. I realize how ridiculous I am and laugh a little.

“Yes, please. If you could just fill my gas tank up I would be very grateful.” He seems to have noticed that I am laughing at myself. I just shrug and move out of his way. I am leaning against my trunk when I realize that I had things that I needed to get. He doesn’t look to me when I speak to him.

“Do you have any, like, bug spray available for purchase? I forgot to pack any with me.”

“Yes, ma’am. We have that inside.” He motions over top of the car towards what I now read is the Sacred Mountain Gas Station. I find it funny since there aren’t any mountains of significance around here. There aren’t any mountains at all really. Just hills. I start walking towards the entrance when I stop again.

“And do you have any coffee?” I turn and look back towards him. He’s watching me. I try to smile friendly at him, but I’m sure he’s wondering if I’ve escaped from some asylum. I laughed at absolutely nothing when I first talked to him. Oh well.

“I don’t know, ma’am. You’ll have to ask inside. I’m not sure.” I just nod and start walking again. It’s kind of weird being referred to as ma’am. I’ve forgotten how different it is out here. As I am about to pull the door of the gas station open, someone else bursts out of it. It almost swings into me. I jump back, but the man doesn’t even acknowledge me.

“Jesus, excuse me. I wasn’t standing here or anything.” I mumble as I reach for the door again. Before I can pull it open a hand grabs onto the door.

“What did you say to me?” The man grabs the door and pushes it out of my hand.

“What did you say?!” The man has a tone. Call me crazy, but it sets something off in me when people talk to me like that. I take in a deep breath and step toe to toe with him, which causes him to back up a little. I suspected that.

“What I said was this: Excuse me. I was standing there. Did you honestly not see me standing there, or did you think that it would be fun to try and hit me with the door?” He looks a little baffled that I even said anything back to him, but I know his type. He thinks because he is a man and I am a woman that I must be weak, or defenseless. I speak again before he can even open his mouth.

“Would it have killed you to be kind and held the door open? Or even I would have held it open for you. No. You couldn’t even say sorry!” He blinks at me a few times. I’m starting to think that he is inebriated. I think I can smell it. I don’t care at this point and I fling the door open and walk in. I glance over my shoulder and see him walking to his car, scratching his head. I, in turn, shake my head. There’s another man standing behind the counter who is shaking his head as well.

It doesn’t take me long to find the bug spray. I grab the first bottle I see and start towards the counter. There is also no coffee. I don’t really want it anymore anyway. I place the bug spray in front of the man and try my best to muster a smile. He seems to be struggling too. Just then the young boy comes out and tells him how much gas he put in my car. Neither of them say much except for the casual hello. I pay quickly and head back out towards my car. I’m unlocking my door when I notice the young boy approaching.

“Miss? Miss?” I look to him, thinking I left something or maybe dropped something.

“I just wanted to apologize for that man you were talking to. He’s a bit of a drunk, and. . .and I just don’t want you to think that we are all like that around here. He’s just got some real bad issues. He’s harmless.” I nod and grin at him, tossing my stuff into the passenger seat.

“It’s okay. I know that type. I see a lot of it where I live. It’s no problem, honestly.” He looks like he is about to say something else, but deciding not to, starts walking back towards the station. I just get in and start the car once more. I look out the window in his direction, but he’s already gone. The people are all so weird around here. I pull out and start driving.

Right down the road from the gas station, I come upon the road that leads out into the woods and to the house. I take the turn and the road turns to gravel after a while. The trees are even greener out here it would seem. Maybe I’m just happy to almost be there, but it really is more beautiful the further inward I get. The sun is still radiating down in-between the trees. It’s not a lot, but when you do get hit by a ray of light, it is blinding. I look over to the passenger seat for my sun glasses. Where are they? I know I put them over there. I am about to decide to forget about it when I get blasted in the face by another ray of sun.

I remember now that they fell into the floor. I keep my eyes on the road while leaning over a bit and trying to reach the floorboard on the passenger side. It’s just out of my reach. I lunge for them every few seconds. I feel them touch my fingers one time and decide to grab them quickly while I am on a stretch of straight road. I lean over and grab for them quickly. As soon as I feel my fingers wrap around them I jerk back up into my seat when I see it.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!?” A flight attendant stands over me, yelling. No doubt we’ve landed, which leaves me with no doubt those pills I took worked. I hate flying. I open my eyes to find that we have, indeed, landed. My flight has just landed at Helena Regional Airport in Montana. I quickly stand to grab my belongings from the over-head compartment.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realize we had landed,” I say as I collect all of my stuff. I have to stand on my tip-toe’s to reach my laptop, which has slid all the way to the back of the compartment. I finally feel the leather strap of the case in my fingers. I yank it free from the compartment and hustle down the aisle.

As I enter the actual airport my cell phone starts buzzing away. My agent. I hesitate for a moment, contemplating throwing it in the trash, but I can’t. My career is riding on this trip, on this book. Scratch that. It’s more than just my career. It’s my home. My car. Everything depends on this book. I decide to answer it.

“Hello?” I can immediately tell that something must be wrong.

“The people over at Richards & Brooks just faxed us some papers. They’re going to pull out of funding your new book if they don’t receive pages…by the end of this week.” Martin’s tone tells me not only is he doubting me, but he is worried for his own position. Don’t get me wrong. Martin took a risk by picking me up as a writer to his company, and I am grateful for that. But… I could use a little positive reinforcement.

“Yeah.. Yeah, okay. I can do that.” I sigh. I can tell by the sound that escapes Martin that he doesn’t believe me.

“Abbie, your career and my own are riding on this book.” I can tell Martin is frowning. I can see it in my head. Martin sitting at his big metal desk. His short brown hair ruffled. Glasses sitting crooked on his nose. There’s probably a lit cigarette somewhere, even though he “quit” a few months ago. He tells me all the time that I’m gonna cause him to start again.

“Martin. I will have you those pages. It’s not like I’ll have anything else to do here.” That’s the truth. I’m on my way to this old house that my family owns just outside of Townsend. It used to be used when all the men in my family would go on an annual hunting trip. I guess they got bored with it. They haven’t been since I was in high school. It’s completely isolated in a sense. There aren’t any neighbors for miles.

The town of Townsend is 10 miles away from the actual house. Yes, I Google Mapped it. But that’s the good thing about it, right? No distractions. No crazy people running up and down the street screaming. No loud emergency vehicle sirens. There’s also no cell phone service or internet available from the house. I’ll have to go into Townsend to fax the pages I write this week to Martin.

“Just.. Just don’t disappoint me, Abbie, okay?” Martin mumbles something to his assistant, but I can’t make it out. It sounded like he was ordering lunch.

“I won’t, Martin. I promi- OW! Shi- Jesus!” I drop my phone to the ground when I collide with a man pulling a huge cart that is loaded down with luggage. He has cropped, black hair. He looks upset initially, but upon seeing how startled I am, he apologizes.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking. I’m in a hurry.” I can tell he is being sincere, but he looks worried that it was actually his fault. When in reality I just flat out walked directly into him. I’m so embarrassed I let him take the blame.

“It’s okay, really. It happens. Don’t worry about it.” He smiles and hurries away. Most likely worried that I’ll chase him down and collide into him again. I start looking around to see if anyone is staring at me. After deciding that I’m in the clear, I realize that I can hear Martin calling out to me from my cell phone on the floor. I pick it up and put it to my ear.

“…and you better figure something out Abbie because this is it. This is your last chance. Are you even listening to me? Abbie?” Before I can even get anything out a local news report is flashing on a screen as I’m walking to the luggage pickup.

“Yeah, yeah Martin. I’ll call you from the house phone when I get there. There is only one phone in the house so be patient if I don’t answer you on the first ring. Okay? Bye.” I hang up quickly trying to catch some of the report. The news anchor introduces me to an on-scene reporter. I listen.

“Another local was found dead in his home by police this morning. It looks to be the same kind of attack as the last three. Police aren’t giving out the name of the deceased man. The only details they are releasing is that the man was brutally attacked in his home around 3AM. There was signs of forced entry.” I have to move closer to the screen as she continues due to a group of teenagers that are talking loudly about how much fun their spring break will be. I decide to hurry to the luggage pickup to hear more. When I reach the designated area I find a wall of screens and stand in front of it.

“…police still refuse to give anymore details, but we have a anonymous tip concerning what exactly killed the man. Our anonymous tipster tells us that the police cannot determine if what killed the man was a human or not.” Human or not? What does that mean? Do they think some kind of animal is going around breaking into houses? The reporter is coming to the end of her report.