Luke lounged against the bus stop bench, trying hard to look bored in the summer heat. His brain had felt disconnected from the rest of him during the bus ride here, watching people come and go until the highway had run out of bus stops for a solid hour. He’d almost managed to convince himself that it was just a regular day, where he was on his way to the music shop to pick up his bass after repairs, or maybe to meet at Tony’s garage for practice, or see how many times he could catch that blonde barista staring at him from behind the counter.
But now, watching the bus pull away with a whine of brakes and a cough of exhaust, it was beginning to feel uncomfortably real.
He was stranded in the middle of nowhere.
Idyl Springs, California. A place that most GPS services hadn’t bothered to learn, much less set up with a decent cell signal. It looked like the kind of out-of-the-way town that sprung up by accident, or where a vampire might decide to hide for a couple hundred years before the locals got wise.
Luke couldn’t spot anyone, but he definitely felt as though he was being watched. A curtain moved in a window. A door latched shut before he had a chance to see who had been there. A car engine started from somewhere out of sight across the street. Luke had the ridiculous impression that everyone was hiding specifically because he was there.
He finally caved to the feeling and pulled out his phone. No service, so no way to check texts or messages or scroll mindlessly on social media. He found himself scrolling through sound files, most of them snippets of his own voice.
“I’ve got an idea for a song, starts with heavy guitar, like, na na na na-ni, na na-ni. Nothing for the verse yet but the chorus goes, So you’ve got it in your head you’re winning, oh yeah—”
Another voice jumped in. “Hey try it this way. Bwah, bwah bwiii—”
Luke jolted upright and quickly paused the recording. He hadn’t heard that voice in a while.
Alfonso.
The name jarred him like a tooth ache. Luke muttered every curse word he could think of before stowing the phone.
He went back to bouncing his leg, slouching a little deeper on the bench. He hadn’t been given further instructions, and with the lack of bars on his phone, he wasn’t expecting any more. Hopefully someone would see him and send a carrier pigeon to his uncle.
This main street might be the only street in town. He had tried and failed to find photos of this place, but looking around, it seemed to have just enough to foster civilization: a liquor store, a bakery, a rustic-looking coffee shop that was a few moldy spots shy of looking run down, a grocery store with a cart of tomatoes parked out front. The only duplicate of anything was a church: one steeple stared daggers at another from across the street.
Luke forced himself not to fidget, even though it was far too hot for this leather jacket. His mother had tried to talk him out of wearing it, though she wouldn’t admit exactly why she was against it.
It’ll be hot up there, she had insisted, before holding up his North Face jacket. Take this instead.
For that, he had worn the leather jacket while leaving, despite the fact that it had been eighty-two degrees. Now, the guilt for his pettiness was finally starting to needle. The heat was just an extra kick in the teeth.
Luke sat for a good ten minutes before getting impatient. Should he start knocking on doors? Ask to borrow a phone to make a call? It seemed possible, but there was a not-zero percent chance that he’d get shot on sight.
The distant rumble of an diesel engine echoed off the hills before a dusty red truck appeared at the end of the street: a bulbous hood, yellow headlights, a bumper that rattled precariously on the front. The truck bed was framed with thick black railings, where straps and buckles clattered loosely. It was something you expected to see in a museum about firetrucks.
Luke half-wished, half-dreaded that this thing would pass by him without stopping, but he watched as the cowboy hat-wearing driver glanced at him, drove past him, then made a U-turn and pulled up just in front of him.
Luke stood, catching his guitar case before it slid to the ground. He felt immediately awkward and uncomfortable, and then felt frustrated with himself for feeling that way.
A grizzled man stepped from the car and walked around. Flannel shirt, unkept beard, cowboy hat. He was dressed nothing like Luke’s father, and yet the long nose and beard were disconcertingly familiar. Luke’s hand tightened on his guitar case for a second.
“Luke,” Ray said. “I hardly recognize ya.”
“Hey, Uncle Ray,” he said.
Ray held out his hand for a hand shake. Luke tried to match grip strength, but it was no contest.
“You’re a bit shorter than your old man, huh?”
Luke’s insides bristled. “Guess so.”
“Let me help you with that.”
“I got it,” Luke said, but Ray was faster. He snatched the duffle bag and tossed it into the truck bed with a bit more gusto than Luke would’ve liked.
They both climbed in the truck, climb definitely being the operative word. The pungent smell of gasoline and what might’ve been old fast food hit Luke first. Various stains and rips spruced up the tan leather seats, and one of the cupholders gleamed with a mysterious, probably sticky stain. Luke wrestled the seatbelt into a chunky and possibly rusted buckle.
Ray started up the truck with a roar of power and a black gasp of exhaust. Climate activists everywhere wept bitterly.
Ray pulled into the street, the truck rattling like it was considering falling apart. Luke glanced back at his stuff. It bounced and shimmied but hadn’t flown out of the trunk yet. He noticed that someone stepped out of the liquor store, glancing in their direction. Luke couldn’t help but think the guy had waited specifically until he had left.
“So,” Ray said. “Got into some trouble, huh?”
Luke’s insides bristled at that, but he smothered the urge to defend himself. There was no point.
People will believe what they believe, his mother would say cheerily. You just keep telling the truth.
Luke had tried more than once to peel away all the fakery from that statement but couldn’t quite manage it. Sure, people were difficult to convince, but it was worse than that. It was more like they wanted to believe the worst. Like they enjoyed the fact that a literal villain was in their midst.
“You could say that,” Luke muttered, though the silence had gone on too long, and Luke wasn’t sure he could be heard over the engine anyway.
“So,” Ray said. “How’s your mother doing?”
“Fine,” he said.
“She seemed in good spirits when I talked to her yesterday.”
She always seems that way, Luke thought. Instead he just said, “Yep.”
“Her job at the office doing good?”
No clue. “Yeah. She got promoted a few months back, so things are better. She earns commission now.”
“Hey, that’s great.” Ray took a hard right turn up a barely paved road. “How’s school going for you?”
“We’re on break, so great.”
“Ah, right. Elsie is homeschooled, so we don’t really go by that. She’s almost reached high school level with the rate she’s going.”
Luke grunted, not sure what to say. He barely remembered his younger cousin; last time he’d seen her was for Easter Sunday, he thought, or maybe that had been a funeral for some great aunt or other. Maybe she’d been six at the time, and she’d been fascinated by unicorns and secret codes, not necessarily in that order.
Ray looked at him. “I’m gonna ask now before we get to the house. Are we gonna have a problem?”
Of course.
Of freaking course.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Luke said, counting on his fingers. “Was thinking of robbing a bank, maybe hot-wiring a Ferrari while I’m here—”
“All right.”
“You don’t mind if I set an outhouse on fire, do you?”
“Real funny—”
“I mean, if I’m gonna murder people, this is the place to do it, right?”
“That’s enough,” Ray snapped, his voice loud even against the roar of the engine. “Don’t be smart.”
“Not a problem,” Luke muttered. No one expected that.
A long silence followed, smothered ruthlessly by the truck engine. Luke stared out of the window, dead set on looking casual and unbothered. I don’t care, let him think what he wants, I don’t care.
Another sharp turn brought them onto a rocky, narrow dirt road. Luke glanced to the right in time to see a wooden sign that was painted with bright colors, featuring three figures hugging each other under a name: The Kinleys.
Redwoods sliced through the noonday sun, casting sharp shadows across the dirt road that was apparently a driveway. The path was so uneven that Luke instinctively clutched the door handle, getting tossed against the door despite wearing his seatbelt.
The driveway mercifully leveled out as they reached the house. The trees gave way to a large lawn (that was mostly dead) that circled a house. It had a definite cabin-ness to it, though it was a bit bigger than Luke had expected. Fencing marked off a stable, where chickens and a horse milled about.
Ray led them around near the house and parked, shutting off the engine. Luke’s ears breathed a sigh of relief.
Ray turned in his seat. “All right, here are the ground rules.”
Luke scoffed. “Here we go.”
“Number one, you help out. We got morning chores outside and in the house, and you’ll do it without complaining.”
“Not a problem,” Luke said.
“Number two, you’ll come into town with me when I tell you. You be polite to people and help out where you see it. They’re nice people.”
“Uh huh.”
“Number three, you will not wander around by yourself. Ever. You want to go into town for whatever reason, you ask and I might say yes, but don’t ever just start walking around the property. Especially at night. Got it?”
Luke looked up. For some reason, Ray’s tone had gone severe on the third rule, even though it seemed the least extreme of the three. “Why? You worried I’ll find your life savings buried under a tree or something?”
“I got bear traps set up,” Ray said. “If you got a problem with any of these, we’ll find accommodations for you elsewhere. Got it?”
“Bear traps,” Luke muttered. “You get a lot of bears around here?”
“And foxes, and sometimes mountain lions,” Ray said. “The forest is more dangerous than you think it is.”
“Sure.”
Ray slid him a look. “Got a problem with these rules?”
Luke sucked in a breath. Once upon a time, that kind of challenge would’ve immediately made him uncomfortable enough to apologize for even suggesting negative emotion. Now though, his frustration was just enough to overcome all that.
“No, no problem,” Luke said.
“I think they’re pretty reasonable, all things considered,” Ray said.
“And what things are being considered?” Luke said. “Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“I ain’t accusing you of anything other than being a cheeky brat,” Ray said. “You keep up this attitude, and your time here’s gonna be a living hell, got it?”
Luke glared. It probably wasn’t meant to be a threat, but sure sounded like one. But it also felt stupid to coax anymore animosity this early in the trip. Better to save it for a rainy day.
“Got it,” Luke said.
Ray kicked his door open and hoped out of the truck. Luke fumbled with a sticky belt buckle before doing the same. He was surprised and irritated that he felt disappointed. He had remembered Uncle Ray as a gruff, no-nonsense guy who didn’t have a problem bringing up politics over Thanksgiving dinner. He remembered his uncle insisted on giving Luke a BB gun for his birthday present, even as his mother practically wept with worry in the corner.
But clearly none of that mattered. Clearly he thought Luke was an entirely different person now.
“Elsie,” Ray shouted. “We’re here.”
Luke tried to slam the truck door shut, but the thing was heavy and the effect was unimpressive overall. He leaned over and dragged his duffle and his guitar case out of the back.
“Elsie!” Ray called again. “Where is that girl?”
The front door flew open.
“I’m here!” she announced cheerily. She was breathing hard for some reason, her jeans and pink T-shirt looking a bit dirty.
Luke was surprised she looked so familiar. She might’ve been taller, but so was he, so it was hard to tell for sure. She wore glasses now, and her wild dark hair had been tamed back into two long braids.
A Labrador bolted out from behind her and started barking, as if belatedly realizing they had a guest. Luke froze as the dog immediately ran over to him, some kind of lab mix. The dog sniffed at his legs and other uncomfortable areas.
“That’s Rusty,” Elsie said. “He’s friendly.”
“That’s one word for it.” Luke pushed the dog’s nose away from himself.
“El,” Ray said.
Elsie flinched but said cheerily, “Yes?”
“Where’d you get that twig in your hair?”
Elsie reached behind her head and pulled out a twig. “Uh…”
“Did you go into the forest by yourself?”
Elsie ducked her head. “Rusty was with me,” she murmured.
“What did I tell you?”
“I didn’t go that far!”
“How many times do I have to—” Ray stopped and inhaled sharply, glancing at Luke. “We’re not gonna argue about this now. Show your cousin to the guest bedroom.”
Elsie bowed her head, her fingers pulling at the end of one of her braids.
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Real worried about those bear traps, huh?”
Ray gave him a hard glare before marching off towards the stable, rolling up his sleeves. It was eerie to see how similar anger looked on Ray compared to his father.
Luke glanced at Elsie. “Hey, cuz.”
“Hi,” she said, suddenly looking shy.
Luke’s memories of his cousin were few and far between. They had sat at the kids’ table a few times at social events. She’d been loud and energetic then.
Did she think he was going to hurt her? Had her father warned that he was dangerous, or a criminal, or any of the other fun words you could find if you searched his name online?
“Did you commit a crime?” Elsie said.
Luke blinked. “Huh?”
“That’s why you’re here, right?” she said. “You did a crime?”
Luke smothered his temper. “That’s what everyone says.”
“Did you do it?”
There was something both frustrating and a relief about being asked so directly. He found himself irritated that he even had to answer the question, that he had to put a bunch of extra emotion in his answer in order to be convincing, when really he was so exhausted from the question that he couldn’t.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”
“Oh,” Elsie said. “Hey is that a guitar? Do you play guitar?”
“Uh.” Luke glanced down at the case. “Yeah.”
“Are you good?”
“I’m all right.”
Elsie straightened and looked up at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses. “I can show you your room.”
“Cool.” Luke hefted his stuff and followed her inside.
The house was just as much a cabin on the inside. Exposed wooden boards for the walls and rafters. Mismatched carpets covered a hardwood floor. A small table was wedged just by where the kitchen area was, with tile countertops that sported used dishes and a half-cut zucchini. An almost-level staircase on the right led to a second floor.
Elsie skipped over to the staircase and started up, glancing over her shoulder as she talked. “I cleaned up the guest room, it hasn’t been used in a long time. I used to have all my drawing in there, but Dad said I had to move them all to my room, even though I don’t have enough room on my wall.”
Luke realized quickly that he was not expected to respond. He hefted his duffle over his shoulder and held the guitar just high enough to clear the stairs. They creaked threateningly underneath him, though perhaps it was just the normal greeting in these parts.
Elsie opened the first door on the left. The room was small and cramped, the walls a neglected yellow, the closet opened to reveal a few hangars. The bed had a deep blue comforter that looked old and/or used.
Luke finally started feeling guilty for having Elsie carry the conversation. “So,” he said. “What were you doing in the woods?”
Elsie froze. “Nothing.”
“Playing hopscotch with bear traps maybe?”
She frowned. “Dad doesn’t use bear traps. Says they’re dangerous.”
Luke blinked. “Oh.”
“Dinner will be in an hour!” Elsie skipped out of the room.
Jennifer San Filippo 