The Evening Man

Chapter 6

 I was greeted by the sound of Megan's agonized groans, when I arrived home. She was laying on the couch with a pillow covering her head, curled up in a fetal position. Laying on the floor beside her, was an empty bottle of wild turkey bourbon. It looked like that hangover had finally caught up to her, the poor girl. I made certain to stomp through the loft as loudly as I could, while I turned on all the lights. I would have blasted the stereo as well (I've got a great sound system), but time was short. I had places to be.

 After depositing my carryout boxes of cobbler in the fridge, and penning a death threat-laden note warning Meg not to touch my food, I headed out to my car. I was going to be taking a little trip out of town, and I wanted to get started right away. Before stepping outside, I had my shadow gently coat itself around me. It made my clothes appear slightly darker, and it gave my skin the appearance of a deep tan. Nice trick right? The best part, was that it caused sunlight to slide off me like oil on Teflon. Of course now it looked like I couldn't cast a shadow, but people generally didn't notice stuff like that.

 I buckled in, programmed my satellite navigator, and settled in for a long, boring drive. I was going to be visiting the home of a dead woman.

                                                        ***

 Alexandria was one of those cozy little middle-class towns that young people moved from, married people settled for, and old people died in. The kind of place that proudly hosted apple-picking contests, and church bake sales. The community vibes it put out were so strong, that I bet the people around here actually attended the town hall meetings. I'd never had cause to come to Alexandria before, and once my business was concluded, I doubt I'd ever return. It smelled too wholesome. I hate wholesome.

 I ended up taking a worn gravel road to my destination, a small Cul-de-sac comprised mainly of a bunch of cheery-looking cottages, many of which had open wells in their yards. “Ugh,” I muttered to myself. I personally found well-water disgusting. Have you tried it? Don't. You can mimic the flavor of it by replacing the ice cubes in a glass of water, with a handful of dirt encrusted pebbles. That's not gross, right? No, I'm kidding, it's gross.

 The cottage I parked in front of, was canary yellow, with pink-striped awnings. I couldn't tell if it was someone's abode, or a candy shop that specialized in selling marshmallow peeps. I didn't want to generalize things by saying that this was clearly a woman's home, but come on! This was clearly a woman's home. Or a guy who was really comfortable in his own skin. I owned a couple of pink t-shirts, but I only wore them during breast cancer awareness month.

 I'm a coward. I've learned over time, to accept it.

 According to Abbey, this house was the former dwelling of Amanda Warner. I had come here hoping to find clues to the nature of whatever thing it was that had hunted her down and killed her. My theory was that the Fade had sent something after her. Something Amanda must have been familiar with. After all, hadn't she tried to seal her room with that canister of salt? If she knew the nature of what had been hunting her, then that meant Amanda hadn't exactly been ignorant of the supernatural. Instead, it implied that she may have been a player.

 That sort of thing happened more often than you think. People get bored. Bored of their lives, bored of themselves, bored with everything. I could totally see that happening to a young person living in a hive like Alexandria. Amanda had been a teacher, right? Every weekday spent at work from Seven to Three, staring at the same blank faces for nine months out of the year, weekends off, late nights grading papers, trainings, trainings, trainings, and then coming to live here, by yourself. My god, if it had been me, I would have thrown myself off a water tower.