Running With the Shadows of the Night (Chapter 2)

You came back!

Of course I did. I promised I would, didn’t I?

Yeah.

But you wondered if I would keep my promise?

I’m glad you did. I want to know what happens next to the shadow woman and the guy.

Well, I’m not going to tell you about that tonight.

What?! Why not?

That’s not the way the story unfolds.

But you’re telling the story. Why can’t you make it unfold that way?

Stories have to tell themselves.

Really?

Really.

Okay, I guess. What happens next?

Are you ready for me to begin?

Yes, please.

Do you want your teddy bear?

Is he going to be scared?

He might be.

Okay, then. I better hold him.

Here you go.

Thanks. Okay, we’re ready.

Sarah Sommers strode down the narrow hallway, her messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

Wait, who?

Sarah Sommers.

Who the heck is that?

She’s who the next part of the story is about.

What about Senka and Silas and Luna?

We’ll get back to them, but you have to learn about Sarah Sommers first.

Is it still a ghost story?

Yes.

And it’s still true?

Yes, it’s still all true.

Okay, I guess. Go ahead.

Sarah Sommers strode down the narrow hallway, her messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

In her bag, in addition to her script, a highlighter, several pencils, and a water bottle, she had the clothes she was going to change into before she left to meet her husband, Kenny. The indoor-outdoor carpeting she walked along had seen better days. Still, it was cleaner than a lot of others she could remember. She passed a door with a brass plate marked, “Brazilian Body Waxing.” Across from it she saw a matching brass plaque that read, “Esther Smith, Marriage and Family Therapist.” That’s convenient, she thought, clean up both ends in one easy stop.

I don’t get it.

Never mind. Forget I told you that part.

She was about to duck into the women’s room when she heard someone call her name. She turned back to see an older man loping towards her, Birkenstocks flapping. He caught up and, resting one hand on her shoulder, leaned over panting. “Let me…catch me…breath,” he rasped in a voice that betrayed a three-pack-a-day habit. Sarah watched him with concern. “You have got to quit smoking, Stan,” she scolded. He straightened up, hand to his heart. “Darling,” he growled, “tell me about it. Peter has been nagging me since the day we met. Every time I think I’ve quit, I go back into rehearsal for something or other, and my nerves just can’t handle the stress without a little nicotine pick-me-up.” He coughed wetly, then said, “That’s better. Listen, darling, I didn’t want to say this in front of the rest of the cast, and I had to say it before you left for the weekend. This show would be nowhere without you.”

“Stan, that’s not true!” Sarah protested. “It’s a great project and you’re doing amazing work with all of us. Just you wait till Emmy season comes around again.”

“You’re kind, darling, but there’s a reason we’re rehearsing in this godforsaken shit hole.”

“I know, I know.” Sarah couldn’t help laughing, though she didn’t want to hurt Stan’s feelings. “You’re terrified someone will drop by, see what a train wreck it is, and cancel us. But, Stan, it’s way better than you think it is.”

“Because of you, Sarah.” He looked her directly in the eyes, and she couldn’t tell if he was being his usual melodramatic, insecure self, or as sincere as he appeared. “I’m telling you, this show would die without you. No, it wouldn’t even have breathed its first breath without you.”

“Stanley, where is all this coming from?”

Stan leaned against the wall and rubbed at his forehead. For a moment, he just looked at the floor. “Stanley!” Sarah put a hand on his arm. “You’re starting to worry me.” Stan took her hand and looked at her, then looked away again. “I’m afraid to say it,” he murmured. “You’re not going to like it.” He looked back at her, his eyes pleading. “Promise me you won’t hate me forever!” he asked.

“Jesus, Stan!” Sarah said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall next to him. “You’re my oldest and dearest friend, for god’s sake. Of course I’m not going to hate you forever. I might be mad at you, but I’m never going to hate you!” Suddenly conscious of the weight on her shoulder, Sarah dropped the messenger bag on the floor next to her. Somewhere in the building, someone was microwaving fish. When she thought about this moment later, the smell always came back to her with a nauseating force.

“I don’t want you to go away this weekend,” Stan blurted.

“What are you talking about? Why not? Stan, I cleared this with you weeks ago.”

“I just don’t want you to go.” He pushed himself away from the wall and turned to her with a stubborn expression.

“That’s not enough, and you know it.” Sarah couldn’t understand what was going on. This was so unlike him.

“Darling, Peter and I…Well, we decided I needed to be honest with you about our feelings.”

“Peter and you? This is getting ridiculous.” Sarah grabbed her bag and threw the strap over her shoulder. “Stan, I love you, but I’m late. Kenny’s picking me up and we’re heading out of town for the weekend.” A chatter of voices came to them from down the hall as several actors left the rehearsal room and started towards them. Stan grasped Sarah by the elbow and pulled her through the door behind them. It was the women’s restroom, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Stan locked the door and leaned against it. Sarah gaped at him. “Stanley, what the hell?”

“Alright,” he said. He looked suddenly bolder, more confident. “Here it is. I don’t want you going away with Kenny.”

“Um, why? He is my husband, you know. As of exactly one month ago today. Which, as you know, is why we’re going away this weekend.”

“Darling, I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t—”

“And neither does Peter. We’re agreed on this. Don’t go.”

Sarah could feel pressure mounting in her head. If she listened to this much longer, she wasn’t going to be able to keep her temper; she would blow like Vesuvius. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Reaching deep within herself for all the patience she could muster, she kept her voice level. “So let me get this straight. You and your husband do not trust my husband of one month. You came to my wedding, you drank the champagne and ate the fucking canapes. You had your pictures taken for the gossip rags. And all of a sudden I’m hearing that you don’t like Kenny. Is that it?”

“I didn’t say we don’t like him. I said we don’t trust him.”

“Oh, what’s the difference, Stan? You butter me up with all this the-show-would-die-without-you bullshit—”

“That wasn’t bullshit!” Stan exclaimed. “That’s the truth. I want you to see that if anything should happen to you, it would affect a lot of people in so many different ways. I’d be devastated. Not because of the show, because you’re you. Peter would be, too.” Stanley’s voice softened to a quiet rasp. “Sarella, Darling. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t trust Kenny. He’s charming and a real smooth operator. He’s too smooth. Where did he disappear to on the morning of your wedding? He didn’t have a good excuse for why he was gone so long, did he? That groomsman and his girlfriend. Why did they leave so early? And what was he so mad about? What do you know about Kenny’s business?”

“Stop!” Sarah held her hand up as if to ward off the torrent of words. “I’ve heard enough, Stan. My life is not our television show. There really isn’t danger lurking around every corner. I don’t actually spend my days staking vampires or melting down silver to shoot werewolves. I will spend this weekend hiking in the woods with my husband, who loves me as I love him. When I come back on Monday, you and I will sit down and have a good, long discussion about this. Don’t interrupt!” She held both hands up and turned her face away as if not seeing him would prevent her from hearing him. When he didn’t speak, she turned back. “Stan, I love you. But I’m leaving now. Have a good weekend.” She gently pushed him out of the way, unlocked the door, and left the bathroom.

When she got outside the building, Kenny was waiting in the rental car.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, leaning over to give her a kiss. “You’re late. Rehearsal go long?”

“Sorry,” Sarah replied as she reached behind herself for the seatbelt. “Stan wanted to talk about something.”

“Oh yeah? What?” Kenny navigated the car into the stream of traffic. “He got some new camera angles for the next vampire staking scene?” Sarah found herself not wanting to tell him what Stan had said. She wasn’t sure who it was she was trying to protect, Stan or Kenny. She’d like to think that Kenny would just laugh off Stan and Peter’s concerns, but she suspected he would be upset. She told herself that she just didn’t want to start the weekend with an argument. Before she could come up with an answer, Kenny said, “Oh, hey, Babe. You didn’t change. I thought you wanted to get into your hiking gear before you left.”

“I didn’t have time.” Sarah patted the bag at her feet. “I’ve got everything here. I’ll change on the road.” She turned in her seat to face him more comfortably. “So, how was your day?”

Kenny merged expertly onto the freeway, then glanced at Sarah. “Oh, you know,” he said. “Same old same old. Not very interesting. Tell me about rehearsal. That’s way more fun!”

Sarah suddenly realized that this was how their conversations about work always went. Instead of answering her questions, he tossed the topic back to her. And she was always willing to go along with it because, truth be told, she had always been far more fascinated with her own experience than with his. God dammit, Stan! she thought. You’re right; I don’t know a goddamn thing about my husband’s business. She reached out and gave Kenny’s earlobe a squeeze. He glanced at her and smiled. She said, “I want to hear about your day. You never talk about that stuff.”

“Only because it’s not very interesting. I mean, I think it is, but most people would be bored to death. It doesn’t lend itself to stories the way your work does, you know?”

“Right,” Sarah replied, tapping a finger to her lips. “That’s why you never see a courtroom drama on TV. What was that series that died after the first episode? Oh, yeah. I think they called it ‘Law and Order’ or something like that.”

Kenny laughed. “Okay, smartass,” he said. “Oh, hey, look!” He pointed toward the side of the road up ahead of them. “Goats!” Sarah turned to look. She loved goats and always enjoyed any glimpse she could get of them. She watched the flock chomping at the roadside grasses for as long as she could see them. “It’s so good to get out of the city, isn’t it?” Kenny said. “You are gonna love this little place I found, Babe. It’s crazy! It’s in the middle of nowhere, completely off the grid. No one can bother us. Just you and me and the wonders of nature. Right?”

Sarah leaned over and gave his shoulder a kiss. “A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou beside me in the wilderness.”

“Is that a line from a play you did or something?”

“Or something.”

It wasn’t until miles later that Sarah realized Kenny had never answered her question about his work. Had he purposely deflected, or was he just being sweet in pointing out the goats to her? Goddamn it, Stan, she thought again. You’re making me paranoid. I never would have had these thoughts before you put them in my brain. But wasn’t that exactly what Stan had been warning her about? He and Peter were seeing something that she wasn’t, that Kenny was, what had he said, “too smooth.” What did that even mean? It sounded absurd. Forget it, she commanded herself. You can talk with Stan on Monday, but until then, you are going to enjoy your weekend with your husband.

It was dark by the time they reached the old logging road, and they had to creep forward to avoid breaking an axle in the ruts. At one point, a fox darted across their path, flicking in and out of the headlights and making Sarah gasp with excitement. “See, Babe,” Kenny said. “I told you that you were gonna love this place!” The woods grew thicker as they went, and the road became more and more overgrown with weeds. When they had to drive over a tiny sapling that was literally growing in the middle of the road, Sarah asked, “You found this place on AirBnB?” Kenny laughed. “God, no!” he said.

“Where then?”

By the light of the dashboard, she could just make out that Kenny waggled his eyebrows comically as he said, “Oh, I have my ways.”

“No, really.” Sarah was irritated at herself that she was actually getting worried. “Where did you find it?”

Kenny glanced at her, then quickly returned his attention to the road. “Babe! It’s okay. It belongs to a client. I mentioned that I wanted to take you away somewhere that you could seriously get some rest, and he offered us this place.”

“Oh. That’s really kind of him.” Internally, Sarah scolded herself for letting Stan’s suspicions get to her. Kenny was always thinking of her. He took better care of her than she did of herself.

The road suddenly opened up into a clearing and the headlights caught the corner of an old wooden cabin.

“Oh. my. god,” Sarah whispered. “Is that it?”

“It must be.” Kenny sounded doubtful.

“This place is really rustic. And kind of creepy.”

“It’s not quite what I pictured,” he agreed. Then his usual cheerful tone returned, “But no worries! I have all the supplies we need to make it perfect. Let’s go check it out.”

They dug headlamps out of their bags and climbed out of the car. A chorus of treefrogs greeted them in surround sound. The air smelled of pines and moldering leaves and summertime and nature long undisturbed by any human being. Looking up, Sarah could see a rough circle of open sky. WIthin that circle were more stars than she thought existed in the entire universe. Kenny stood behind her, and she pressed her back against him. He wrapped his arms around her as they both gazed upwards. “I’m so glad you’re getting to see this,” he murmured in her ear. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and pulled away, flicking on his headlamp. “Let’s take a look inside.” Although she would have liked to admire the Milky Way for a bit longer, Sarah reminded herself that she had all of tomorrow night to look at it, too, and switching on her own headlamp, she followed Kenny to the door of the cabin.

The door wasn’t locked and swung open easily enough with just a hint of a groan from its hinges. A layer of dust, decades in the making, covered everything. It swirled in little eddies where the breeze from the open door reached it. The place reeked of mouse, and Sarah could hear the scuffling of tiny feet in the corners and even over her head as the light from their headlamps alarmed the cabin’s usual denizens. Sarah stood in the center of the cabin and turned a slow circle taking in the single room. Rodent nests in one corner, a dangerous-looking woodstove in another next to some derelict kitchen cabinets, the door they came through, and an old wooden table with two rickety chairs. Dusty windows in each wall reflected the shine of the two headlamps.

“Well,” Sarah said, trying to look on the bright side, “at least there are miraculously few spiderwebs.”

“Oh, Babe!” Kenny was suddenly energized. “Hang on! I brought some candles. I’ll go grab them.” He rushed out of the cabin and Sarah saw the trunk light come on. She heard the trunk lid slam, and Kenny was back. He carried a candle, a box of strike-anywhere matches, a bottle of scotch, and two plastic cups. He set the items on the table and lit the candle. As the light spread, Sarah noticed an old dish or saucer that had clearly been used before as a candleholder, given the wax remnants that coated it. Kenny held the dish over the candleflame until the wax softened, then pressed the new candle into it. It held fast, and he put the dish carefully back on the table so that it was centered in the window. He stepped back to admire the effect. “Not bad, huh?” he said, turning to Sarah with a grin.

“Kenny—” Sarah began. But she wasn’t sure what to say after that. How could he possibly think that anything here was, “not bad”? There was nothing about this place that was anything less than horrific. He was standing there looking at her with a goofy, expectant grin on his face, and she just didn’t know what to say. “Sweetheart,” she started again, “I–I just don’t think I can sleep here.”

His face fell. “Sarah! Why not?” He sounded heartbroken.

“Well, for one thing, there’s no bed. And there are mice everywhere. And the place is filthy. And it’s just super creepy. I swear somebody died in here. The whole place just feels wrong.”

He looked at her, stricken, then he grinned and erupted into laughter. “Babe, I can’t do this to you. I had you going though, right? I’m sorry. I know. It’s totally awful.”

Sarah was overcome with relief. She reached Kenny in two quick steps and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “You jerk!” His neck muffled her words, but he caught the gist and laughed again.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, leaning back to look at her but not removing his arms from around her waist. “I got this fancy bottle of scotch to celebrate. Let’s have a snort, then we’ll go make up a bed in the car for tonight. In the morning, we can look for somewhere else to stay.”

“What will you tell your client, though? Won’t he be offended we didn’t stay?”

“I doubt it.” Kenny opened the bottle of scotch and poured a couple of ample drinks. “I’ll just tell him we were creeped out by his cabin. Someone obviously died in it.”

“Don’t tell him that!” Sarah laughed. “He’ll fire you as his attorney.”

Kenny handed her a plastic cup and held his own up for a toast. “Here’s to a month of wedded bliss,” he said. They touched their cups together. “Down the hatch, Babe. You deserve it. Relax and leave everything to me.” Sarah downed her drink in two swallows, feeling only a small twinge of guilt at chugging such expensive scotch. She’d sip the next glass, she told herself. Already she was feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her. Before he could take even a sip of his, Kenny snapped his fingers and set his cup on the table. “I totally forgot. You sit down, Babe. I’ll be right back.” He left the cabin again, and Sarah regarded the two chairs doubtfully. She tested one, pressing down on the back and wiggling it. The chair seemed reliable enough. She sat carefully. It held her weight. She poured herself another couple fingers of scotch and leaned back with a sigh. This time, she took a sip and let the scotch spread on her tongue, the smoky, peaty smoothness of it transporting her to the first time she’d met Kenny.

She’d been slumped at the bar in the Algonquin Hotel sipping a Hemingway Daiquiri, fully aware of looking like a ridiculous cliché of the artsy-fartsy actress. It had been a long day of frustrating and fruitless rehearsals, and she was past caring what anyone thought. The bar had been virtually empty at that hour, so she’d initially been annoyed when she felt someone take the stool next to her. She was going to turn and say something snippy about there being plenty of other empty stools, but she’d only got as far as the turning part. She’d taken one look at the man sitting next to her, and the desire to get rid of him had evaporated. If she were going to make a film about a superhero whose power was to stop traffic with his looks, this would be the guy she’d cast. He had turned to her, and even in the dim bar light, she’d seen that his eyes were a shocking shade of blue. “Tough day?” he had asked. “Daiquiris aren’t gonna cut it. You need a shot of scotch.” He had raised his hand for the bartender, and she had let him.

Sarah smiled at the memory, then the smile turned into a frown. Wow, she thought, this scotch is hitting me hard. She felt oddly woozy, far more so than she would have expected, even from the stiff drink Kenny had poured. It had been a while since she’d eaten anything. Maybe that was it. Was she dehydrated? She tried to lift her arm up to the table but the muscles wouldn’t obey her. She only ended up knocking her cup over, spilling the contents. “Shi–” she mumbled. She watched the pool of spilled scotch form a tiny river to the edge of the table and drip onto the floor, creating a patch of dust-mud by her chair leg.

Kenny was standing in front of her, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. She was afraid he was disappointed in her for getting so drunk so quickly. She hadn’t meant to. She tried to say, “Kenny, I don’t feel good.” But her lips were numb and her tongue wouldn’t form the right sounds. She couldn’t hold her head up any longer, and her chin fell to her chest. Kenny squatted down so that she could see his face, and tenderly took her hand. Why wasn’t he teasing her for being such a lightweight? Why wasn’t he asking her if she was okay?

And then, in a blinding, panic-inducing flash, she understood. She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp. Her arm wouldn’t move. None of her muscles obeyed her frantic commands. Stand! Run! Get away! She was breathing hard. She could feel sweat dripping down her back, prickling on her forehead.

Kenny was looking at her with pity. “Try to relax, Babe,” he said. “The guy said it wouldn’t hurt. I told him I didn’t want you to suffer.” He sounded like he thought this was noble, somehow. What was going on? This had to be a nightmare. She willed herself to wake up. In a second, she’d open her eyes and see that she’d fallen asleep in the car and was having this appalling nightmare, probably brought on by her conversation with Stan. Oh, god, Stan. What was he going to do? Would he ever know what happened to her? Wake up, Sarah, wake up!

Kenny’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Knowing you, you’re wondering why. You always want to know why people do things. Occupational hazard, I guess. People don’t always have a well-defined why, Babe. They just do things. I mean, not me. I have a why. I’m not a savage who just murders his wife for no reason. Means, motive, opportunity, you know? But that’s not really important. Not right now.” He stroked her hair and tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “That piece never stays in your hair tie, does it?” He smiled at her, dipping his head to look up into her eyes. “I guess it’ll never get long enough now. Though they say hair keeps growing after you’re dead. I don’t know. Animals might get to you before it has much chance to grow, I suppose.”

Sarah’s mind refused to take in what Kenny was saying to her. There was no way the beautiful man she had met at the Algonquin, the kind and thoughtful man she had fallen in love with, this person who had become her companion and confidant and true love, who she had experienced such intimacy with, had woken up to each morning, there was just no way that he-—

“So today was nice, right? You got to see goats and a fox. And the beautiful stars. I’m glad you got to see that before you die. The important thing right now is that you’re not scared, Sarah. Here’s what the guy told me. He said your muscles will stop working, so he seems to be right on about that. First it’ll be all the muscles you have control over, then it’ll be your heart and breathing. Don’t worry! He promised that the decrease of oxygen to your brain will make you pass out before you feel like you’re suffocating, so it’ll seem to you like going to sleep. I’ll stay with you the whole time. You know, until I’m sure your heart has stopped.”

Sarah thought of Stan and of Peter. When she didn’t come back, they would know Kenny had done something. They wouldn’t know what, but they’d pursue it. She was sure of that. I’ll never see them again, she thought. A deep sense of loss swept through her, and she felt her eyes prickle with tears.

“Aw, Babe! Don’t cry. It’ll all be okay. It will be over soon, I promise. I’m here.”

Sarah didn’t want to share her last moments with Kenny. She wanted to be with Stan. She closed her eyes to block out the sight of Kenny’s blue eyes, his artfully tousled blond hair. They nauseated her now. She thought of Stan hugging her ebulliently after they found out that their series was being picked up. She pictured sitting with him and Peter, each of them squeezing one of his hands, as they waited for his name to be called at last year’s Emmys, the eruption of cheers all around when it was, his speech when he called her out as the hardest working, most inspiring actress he’d ever worked with. Things were getting dark around the edges. She thought of Peter’s birthday party the year Stan had given him a kitten. The three of them stayed up late, arguing over what name fit her best. The darkness was making it hard for Sarah to focus, but she clung to her images of Stan. The year he’d made oyster stew for Christmas dinner and no one would eat it. The day she’d met him in acting school. She couldn’t think anymore, but she felt Stan there with her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “Darling, it will be okay.” And when he said it, she believed him.

Kenny stayed until he was sure she was dead. He left her in the chair, her torso and head lolling across the table. He was calm when he left. He was sure to take the bottle of poisoned scotch, the glasses, his headlamp. He blew out the candle but left it standing in the window. He closed the door behind him and walked to the car. When he opened the door, the dome light came on, illuminating his emotionless face. He climbed in, buckled up, started the car. The dome light went out. He executed a three-point turn and headed down the logging road.

Deep in the shadows of the cabin, the ghost of Sarah Sommers watched him go.

Oh.

Yes.

I get it.

I thought you would.

That’s really sad.

Is it?

Yes. It made Teddy cry.

Will he be okay?

I think so.

Good.

I didn’t like that story.

No?

No.

I’m sorry.

That part was a true story, too?

Yes, I’m afraid so.

But why did he kill her?

I don’t know.

Oh. Can we go back to when she’s Senka? And she knows Silas and Luna?

We’ll do that tomorrow night.

Okay.

Will you and Teddy be alright?

Yes, we’re okay.

You’re not scared?

No. We’re just sad for Sarah.

That’s kind of you both. Good night.

Good night.

_________________

Go on to Chapter 3