Into This River I Drown

“After the sunrise?”

“After the sunrise.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, Cal.”

He looks dubious. He kisses me again and steps back. “There’s something I want to talk to you about tonight,” he says. “Something important. Just us two, okay?”

I tell myself I don’t know what it could be, but the heat of his gaze makes me a liar. “Sure,” I say, turning before he can see anything else on my face.

He walks around the counter and stands beside Rosie, who grins up at him. “I’ll take care of you, and make sure you get delivered safe and sound back to Benji. Deal?”

“Safe and sound,” he echoes, looking out the windows, undoubtedly searching for threads. He must see none, because he looks back at me. Calm, Cal. I’m safe and fine. We’re okay. He nods as if he hears.

Rosie puts her arm through his and starts to pull him toward the door. “Oh, before I forget,” she says, her hand against the glass. “Those storms coming in? Supposed to be real bad, from what I understand. You may want to consider putting up some plywood against the windows.”

“You think the storms will be that strong?” Abe asks.

She shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt. Having Dougie do the same up at the diner. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any out-of-towners this year. Probably would get stuck here if they tried. Roads are supposed to close all over the place.”

“No way in or out?” Abe says with a frown. “I don’t know why they just don’t postpone the festival until next weekend. It’s not like it’ll do anything for the economy if no one shows.”

“I thought the same thing,” she agrees. “But you know Walken. A stickler for tradition, that one. Third Saturday in May, just as it’s always been. Eh. The town’s seen worse, and I’m sure the weather reports are being overblown as it is. We’ll survive.”

Cal looks agitated and is about to open his mouth—to say what, I don’t know. “We’ll see you down there,” I reassure him. “Maybe I’ll even close up a bit early. Probably won’t be too many others coming into the station.”

The bell rings overhead as Rosie pulls him out the door before he can protest. She says something that makes him chuckle softly, a sound I can hear before the doors shut and they disappear down Poplar Street.

Abe huffs out a laugh before staring at me pointedly.

“What?” I say.

“Boy, if you don’t know, then I don’t know what to tell you,” he says with a smirk. “I just wonder what Cal wants to tell you tonight.” He starts walking back toward the office, most likely to pick up the old half-finished crossword book he’s been working on since 2006. “I just hope you’ll say the right thing back.”

I gape after him.

It happens sixteen minutes later.

Only a couple of people come into the store after Cal and Rosie leave, grabbing a few last-minute necessities. Soda. Ice. Potato chips. It’s twenty past eleven, and I think I’ll close up the store. Abe is bent over the counter, trying to figure out what twenty-six down is with a clue for an eight-letter word that means a certain angel. He has the first letter G and the last letter N. No wonder he’s been working on this book for six years, I think with a shake of my head as I walk toward the front door, getting ready to switch over the sign to “Closed.” “Hey,” I call over my shoulder. “Let’s head down and—”

A Strange Man stands across Poplar Street, watching me.

He’s different than Dark Man and Light Man were. He’s completely bald and his white skin is luminous in the weak sunlight that appears from behind a drifting cloud. His face is smooth, and for a moment he reminds me of Nina with her sweetly cherubic face. But the Strange Man is nothing sweet. Although I can’t quite place if he actually looks menacing or if it’s just the memory of his counterparts that comes roaring to the forefront of my mind. He’s dressed in the same dark suit and skinny tie over a white shirt. He looks to be a bit taller than I am, and even with the distance between us I can see his eyes look flat and black, like they’re dead.

He’s flickering in and out of view, like he’s a malfunctioning projection. For a split second he disappears, and then he’s there again, on and off, on and off, just like the lights were in the freezer that stored my father’s body so long ago. I don’t know why my mind makes this connection, but it does and my skin feels instantly clammy. For a moment, I wonder if the Strange Man will suddenly flicker out of existence, only to reappear right next to me, his fingers turning to claws, his face stretching into a horrible shape.

But he doesn’t. He continues to flicker in and out and cocks his head, watching me.

Once you catch sight of the Strange Men, Michael whispers in my head, his voice a memory, you will know I have assisted you and that you should follow.

Michael’s sign.

“Abe,” I say, not turning around. “I have to run home for a minute. Do you mind closing the store?”

Silence from behind me. Then he says, “Why do you have to go home?”

The Strange Man holds his hand out in my direction as if silently asking me to take it in mine. “Need to get some plywood to board up the windows just in case.” It’s easy, this lie.