Chapter 1

With the hiss of a mechanical dragon which had been kicked in the testicles, the semi shook to a stop.

She put her hand on the handle, but the driver shook his head.

“Ain’t stopped yet.” The girl looked at him tentatively. “Trust me,” he said.

A few seconds later, the semi lurched, then another, then a final tortured hiss before lurching again and stopping for good. The action was enough to make the guitar the girl was holding give off a slight, distant, haunting strum.

The girl was still looking at the driver, eyebrows raised.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s safe now.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, opening the door, grabbing her gear, and climbing onto the hot pavement.

“You sure this is where you want to be?” the driver asked, looking around. This particular exit seemed to offer nothing but scrub brush and inescapable heat.

The girl nodded and put on her sunglasses. “Yeah,” she said quietly, walking from the semi.

The driver looked at her in the mirror for a few seconds. The girl offered ball-aching beauty, but she could hold a conversation like a sheet of paper could hold the weight of a skid of concrete. During the entire ride, she had said probably five words, none of them being her name.

He looked around the landscape again. He had wondered for a long time why there was an exit here. It had nothing to offer if those had been their thing: a couple of old, run-down, and unused buildings, some farmland which had not been farmed in decades, and enough scrub brushes to fill seven national forests.

He shook his head, put it into drive, and quickly got onto the entrance ramp and the highway, gladly leaving behind a place he had never visited before and never wished to visit again, even for so short a time. Quite simply, the place gave him the creeps.

Gina was dressed in her running gear because she knew it would be most comfortable here. Sure, the sports bra and tiny shorts left little to even the most simplistic imagination, but she knew the area would be hot this time of the year.

She was right.

It was the kind of heat that gave you that warm, cuddly embrace from your aunt that you did not want, but from which you could not escape. It was so hot that even the birds had given up any activity and flown off to someplace cooler.

Gina grew up here many years ago. Now, she returned, unwillingly but necessary.

She walked on the shoulder of the road, though there was no need, because there was no traffic. She knew that the long-abandoned town of Ludlear was behind her, but it was to a house on the outskirts that she was more interested in. The walk was to be a long one, she knew, but she did not mind. She was used to travelling far on her feet.

Even in this weather.

The sun followed her like a honeybee stuck in sweat. Even though trees were draped over the road everywhere, somehow, they managed to offer no relief from the sun.

Occasionally, Gina would see a house in the distance, knowing it was abandoned like the others.

She turned from the main road – if this deserted piece of asphalt could be referred to as that – and began walking on a side road. Behind her, she knew, was the high school and community college. She had attended both and wondered what their abandoned shape was. But she wanted to hurry home. Though the sun still beat down on her like an overactive child on a toy drum set, it was tentatively approaching the horizon, almost like it was afraid to touch the surrounding landscape.

She walked along the road, deserted houses occasionally flipping by as she walked.

She paused when she heard the sound, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her.

They were not.

Another truck was approaching.

She glanced behind her, at it, and saw it was not the same car that had dropped her off. This one was much older and bright red.

Slowly, it rumbled past her, ignoring her, until turning into a driveway shortly up the road, where it lumbered towards a large, bright red building so far away from the road, she had not noticed it.

With a sigh, she continued her walk.

She arrived at her old home with the sun still barely hanging onto the horizon.

Her old childhood home had been abandoned for a couple of decades now. From the road, should anyone dare to wander down the broken asphalt, it was not even visible, covered in ivy and scrub brush.

The key to the front door was under the worn-out welcome mat, which now read “-e-co-e.” The door opened with no resistance.

Gina expected to be greeted by a slam from the normal odors of a long-abandoned house: Decay, rot, animal waste, the encroachment of nature. There was none of this, though. There was no odor.