The Slender Man (10 page)

“Now Mario Douglas is wanted for questioning since his
disappearance from the hospital, but we have credible reason to believe that if
these are kidnappings we are dealing with that he would be unable to commit
them in his current physical state, and that he indeed may have been kidnapped
as well,” explains the sheriff.

“So? That doesn't make him innocent. I could kidnap a kid
with a stubbed toe too,” she argues.

“We will look into this, but we believe it is more likely a
third party to-”

“Third party?” she interrupts. “Well who's the second party?
Kids just don't go off missing on their own,” she continues.

“Well we are also looking into the possibility that some of
the first missing students- the ones that disappeared shortly
before
Mario did, may be partly responsible.”

I wince. That is not the thing to say to Rita if you want
her to shut up. She catches on to what he's saying, and I savor that brief
pause she takes before she releases her outburst.

“How dare you accuse my son of- anything? I will find some real
policemen and lawyers to put you down,” she begins. As she continues shouting,
I see Deputy Yew leave his position in the background and walk forward. He
steps down from the podium and approaches Rita, who's sitting in the front row.

“Ma'am, I need to escort you from the audience,” he says. I
didn't see the sheriff issue a formal order or even wave, so the deputies must
have received instruction to remove anyone who caused a scene. Whatever it is,
the sheriff isn't objecting.

Rita sizes up Deputy Yew, who is only about her size. “Oh
no, you have absolutely no right. In this country we have freedom of speech,
and I will say what-” she protests, but he interrupts.

“Ma'am, in the country we also have laws against disturbing
the peace. Now I'm going to ask you one more time to exit the building with me,
or I will remove you from the premises by force.”

 I smile when I hear those words. If there is one good thing
during all of this strife, it's hearing Rita Larch being put in her place. I
can hear her objections as Yew escorts her through the hall, and then the
sheriff resumes speaking.

“Like I said we have reason to believe that if these are
kidnappings, that there is an unknown third party involved. Now we are doing
all we can with our limited police force to put a stop to this. We’ve even
notified the adjacent counties as well as the state police department,” he
finally says.

“Now one thing I have to say and another one of the main
reasons I have brought you all here is that due to the multitude of students
missing from this area, and the fact that an unknown third party is suspected
to be responsible for their disappearances, the Cherokee County Board of
Education has permitted a temporary district-wide suspension of educational
activities,” he announces, and you can tell he had to practice that one in the
mirror.

 Due to the grim situation, no one openly cheers, but I can
see smiles cross the faces of many, even mine. It's not that I'm for skipping
school, but with the losses I and those around me have suffered, I'm not fully
able to focus on school.

“Are there any questions?” asks the sheriff.

“Yeah,” says one parent, standing up.

“I understand the need for our children's safety, but how
will we ensure the education of our children remains unaffected?” he asks. My
smile fades.

“We've already worked this one out with the board, and we
all agree that the teachers will issue a week's worth of their curriculum to be
done at home. I understand that this still puts a dent in their education,
particularly physical education and group functions, but I am not against
meetings in private, supervised places and exercise at home. Our main priority
is to keep the children of our community safe, and that’s a lot easier to do
when they’re with their parents than at a school,” he explains. I have to
admit, aside from Rita, the sheriff knows how to plan ahead to give people what
they want. Maybe that kind of leadership is why he's been elected.

“How long do you anticipate that this will take?” asks
another parent.

“We are hoping to solve this issue immediately, but hoping
to and doing so are two different things. To ensure operational security, will
be giving limited updates to the public, but if we find any priority suspects,
or any of the children, we will let you know,” he answers. A few more parents
ask random and sometimes redundant questions, but the sheriff eventually closes
the school assembly with one final note.

 “One more thing I'd like to add is, people close to the
missing children noted that shortly before the child disappeared, they
complained of hallucinations. If anyone has hallucinations about seeing missing
relatives, please notify the police, as that may something to do with their
disappearances. Thank you.” After saying that, he steps off the podium and
leaves the crowd to be excited and somewhat bewildered. I can see why he would
wait to say that until after the barrage of questions were answered. After all,
even I'm seeing things.

I can't seem to get any sleep. Whenever I try to rest I end
up with my face buried in a pillow; sleepy but not sleeping. You'd think that
with my health and all of the drama going around that sleep would be the
perfect escape, but I just can't seem to reach it. I lay here on my bed
listening to the sound of dishes clanging as breakfast is being made. When I
feel blood running down from my nose again, I have to force myself to get up
and take care of it. I grab a tissue from the box that's been lying on my bed
all night. I wipe up the blood and then throw the tissue in the trash can that
has been sitting beside my bed all night as well. By now you can see nothing
but bloody tissues inside.

I come up to a sitting position and take in just how gross I
feel. Well, not necessarily gross, but the dryness isn’t just in my throat and
nose now. Now I feel like it has spread to my skin and I'm getting even worse.
I sluggishly walk downstairs to get breakfast, maybe that will help. Mom has
made muffins and eggs. When she sees I've entered the kitchen she begins fixing
me a plate. I grab the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and pour
myself a hefty glass. I'll have enough Vitamin C to last a week. Mom sets my
plate on the table and I sit down. Adam is in the chair next to me and he's
already eating. He looks like he's fully recovered from the crash, aside from
his broken arm, but I can tell he looks just as sickly as I do. One thing I
notice about him is that he's all dressed up.

“Are you feeling any better Lyss?” asks Mom. I shake my head
after taking a big gulp of orange juice so my throat is clear enough to answer.

“I feel worse,” I say.

“Have you taken your medicine?” she asks. “Yes,” I lie. The
last medicine I've had is Nyquil, and I'm supposed to be taking some
antihistamine tablets as well, but they don't do any good. In fact, the
antihistamine makes me feel more dried out. As I eat, I feel some buildup
around my labret and notice that blotches of dried blood have clotted around
it.

“Maybe you should fight through it?” Mom suggests.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, mouth full of eggs.

“You don't have school today. Why don't you go out and
exercise? You know? Power through it?” she explains. Exercise would be the last
thing to cross my mind at a time like this, but I ponder it and the cardio at
least would help get my mind off things. Heck it might even help me get to
sleep.

“Yeah I'll go for a run,” I finally answer.

“Oh, but not before finishing your schoolwork, I don't want
you to get your work piled up at the end of the week,” she adds. Correction,
schoolwork would be the last thing to cross my mind at a time like this.

“Alright,” I sigh. After breakfast I head upstairs to wash
my face. I use cold water and follow up by slathering on lotion to try to help
the uncomfortable dry feeling. I notice that the area under my nose is cracked
and irritated from all the tissues. I really wish we had some of those
lotion-enhanced tissues or whatever they're called. I notice that my complexion
isn't the only thing that looks out of sorts. My hair is a mess and even my
nails need work. It may not be the time for vanity but I do take pride in my
appearance, and I don't want to end up looking like a crazy old hag. I brush my
hair out thoroughly and work on getting it into a ponytail since I'll be
running later. I decide not to worry about makeup since I'll be showering off
after I run anyway.

Today is Tuesday, which means Lionel Willow's birthday party
is today, so I need to look... sane. I get dressed in some warm weather
exercise gear; in fact I choose almost the same outfit I wore out on my last
run with Shana. After dressing I open my backpack to look at the bulging folder
of homework. I didn't bother organizing them when I received the papers. All
the teachers really gave us were instructions to read a set amount of chapters,
and then the homework for each chapter. I decide rather than going one day at a
time, I'll go one subject at a time.

I'm feeling tired so I am not in any mood to try and
memorize anything. I start with algebra. Many people complain that algebra is
hard but the truth is, all you have to do is remember the formula and then
answer the questions using the formula that’s right there in front of you. I
can do it almost absentmindedly.

As I work through each problem I force myself not to think
about Shana because it will only distract me. Every time the name “Shana” pops
into my head I think of random words until I'm back on track. With my mind
bouncing around with phrases like ‘pie’ and ‘I just ate’ fluttering through my
mind I get my homework done a little more slowly than I'm used to, but it's the
most progress I've made in any kind of work since the accident, and when I’m
finished a little smile crosses my lips.

“Productivity,” I say to myself, and on that note, it's time
to be even more productive and get some exercise. Let's fight this sickness, as
my mom put it. I keep mentally reassuring myself that I can do this. I won't
have to jog the whole course. Maybe because I'm sick, I'll do intervals of
walking and jogging. I make sure to bring a full bottle of water to prevent
dehydration. I'm sure I can persevere, and my only real worry is that my nose
will bleed uncontrollably so I carry plenty of tissue in my backpack.

I head out the door and start into a slow jog, but immediately
I feel the leaden weight brought on by my sickness and I find myself jogging at
the average speed of a brisk walk. I stare at the ground watching the white
cement sidewalk pass by. This way I don't pay too much attention to just how
slow I am really moving. When I see the shadow of the stop sign I look up at
the tree line.
Am I going to be able to handle this?
I think as I
already feel tiny beads of sweat on my clammy hands. I do some brief stretches
just in case. If there's any bad time to twist an ankle, it's when you're sick
and haunted by a ghastly static apparition.

After a few stretches I look both ways and take off. I throw
my knees forward to carry my weight through. I hit the tree line and descend
into the forest. I try to ignore my dry throat as I stomp through fallen leaves
that have covered the whole ground at this point. I look around at the trees
while I'm running. Most of them have been stripped bare at this point. Now all
of the once beautiful trees are naked and gloomy. It looks normal in late
autumn but at this time of year they just seem off. Is it the season or the
current events making this seem so strange?

By the time I reach that first true incline I'm walking. I
don't have the strength to run up the hill this time. I'm already sweating
pretty badly and am constantly wiping my eyes on my jacket sleeve to stop the
sweat from burning my eyes.

I'm grateful that my nose isn't bleeding right now otherwise
I might have just gotten blood all over my favorite hoodie. When I reach the top
of the hill, I find it's harder to throw my knees forward again. I've heard
that for cross country runners the trick is to not stop running. I use that
little bit to motivate me to press forward once more.

I feel weaker now, like the resting pace and water didn't
rejuvenate me at all, and keep getting the idea to just call it a day.
No, I
came out here to fight this. Let's finish the whole course. I won't let this
illness run my life,
I think to myself. I keep using those thoughts to
motivate me, and hope to God that I don't stop running and then not have the
energy to start up. Sweat keeps pouring into my eyes- well my right eye. I am
constantly forcing my right eye shut, only looking with my left. I should
really invest in a head band. I keep running on and finally reach that last
slope that marks the clearing. I'm going to sprint this one. Each bound takes a
severe toll on my strength and by the time I reach the hill I have to bend over
to catch my breath. “Head above the heart. Always keep moving,” I say to
myself. I put my hands on my hips to keep my back straight and walk in a circle
around the clearing.

I realize I’m circling that strange tree. I stop and look up
at it. It seems a little taller than before. If I'd remembered the scare this
tree gave me last time, I probably wouldn't have been able to motivate myself
to come out here again. I am about to look away from the tree when something
catches my eye; the branches. I remember last time there were how many
branches, five or six? I count them this time.

“Nine,” I say aloud. It has those two jointed branches
hanging toward the ground like before, but seven of them are angled up. I only
remember four branches angled up last time. Trees don't just sprout new
branches like this. It's eerie to see this. I may be no good at memorizing
schoolwork, but when a strange tree appears full grown on my jogging route and
then sprouts new branches suddenly I tend to take a mental note. There are nine
branches on this tree. I repeat that thought aloud too. Next time I come on my
run I'm going to count the branches again.

I shake out my limbs, rotating my neck and ankles for the
home stretch. I am about to descend when I remember what happened last time. I
thought I'd seen the entity, but it was just the tree. Or was it the fiend
after all? Now I feel uncertain and a shiver runs through me. Now I'm just
scaring myself. Maybe I should sprint back like last time? No, that would have
been impossible for me to do if I hadn't thought I was about to die in the
woods. I'm just going to run, and I'm not going to look back at the tree this
time. I bite the back end of my labret, and then I'm off. I run a little faster
than I did on the way here, but I think it's a pace I can sustain. I'm going to
conquer this. I keep running, far past the clearing, but that level of fear I
had last time keeps creeping up on me.

I start seeing things out of the corner of my eye. It's like
my mind is purposely trying to scare me. It's showing me the fiend, except not
as vivid as it usually does. Then I see
him
again. He's far in front of
me this time, but as I clear more trees he disappears again. Then he reappears.
It's as if I'm following him, except I'm only catching glimpses.

Surprisingly, my fear recedes, as if I'm not really scared.
Good, I think. There's something off about the way I keep catching him. First,
I see this dark spot past a small tree ten meters from me. Then, it's the same
thing fifteen meters. Now I can hardly see him. Maybe he really is here. Is he
moving? If he is, then why isn't he coming for me? The fear begins to rise
again. What if he
does
come for me? He's ahead of me so I would be easy
to intercept. I detour around, trying to move in an angle on the way home. I
can't see him anymore.

I trip and face-plant myself into ground. The leaves cushion
my fall, but in my condition, getting up isn't so fun. I push myself off the
ground and see a few drops of blood. Great, the collision triggered my
nosebleed. I reach into my pack and pull out some tissue. I look around the area
and don't recognize it. I'm not really lost though, and I walk east until I see
the end of the tree line. I emerge onto the road. I look at the paved road
boarded by the forest that leads south to my home neighborhood. I walk toward
my neighborhood, which is only a kilometer or so away when a thought dawns on
me. Why would he be going directly ahead of me, unless it was trying to beat me
to my destination? “Adam.”

My feet are running faster than I tell them to. The first
time I saw the static shadow he was looming over Adam. Does that mean he's
finally come to collect him? I feel weakened already from the exercise mixed
with the sickness, and the lag I'm suffering only increases my worry. I have to
get home! My feet thud against the ground and it feels like I'm kicking through
molasses to move them forward. When I finally get to my front door, it's ajar.
“Adam!” I call. I run upstairs, the loud thuds of my footsteps blocking out the
sound of the creaking floorboards. I go to his room, empty.

“Adam!” I call again. I check Bubbe's room, empty also. I
run downstairs and see that no one is present.

“Mom?” I call. Worry sets in further. Would it take both
Adam and my mother? I hear a noise. It's faint at first but then I realize just
how close it is. I turn around, but the sound is still behind me. I listen
again. It's coming from my backpack. It's my cell phone vibrating. I remove my
backpack and open it. I look at my phone and see that I've received a text from
Mom. I read it.

“Went to the party early with Adam help set up. Dad and
Bubbe went to get Lionel’s present and have it wrapped. They will be there to
pick you up soon, bring the camera. It's on the kitchen counter.”
A wave of
relief sets in. All this stress, worry, and relief can't be good for my health,
I think.

I look at the time. It's a little after one-thirty and the
party starts at three, so I have plenty of time. I head upstairs and drop my
backpack onto the rest of the mess on the floor. I kick my shoes off in random
directions and yank out my ponytail. I grab a few toiletries and head to take a
shower. I turn the water on and while the temperature is moderating I take a
look in the mirror. I grimace at what I see. I know the sun isn't too bright
but I'd hoped I'd at least have a little more color in my skin after the run to
hide just how sick I am. I remove my clothing, and after I see steam rising
from behind our translucent shower curtain I stick my hand in to test the
water, making sure it's not too hot.

I get inside, but instead of immediately washing off I lie
down as if I were taking a bath, letting the hot water rinse the sweat and
other ickiness off my skin. I almost don't feel up for a party after that run,
but I think it's mutually understood that something small like a child's
birthday party will help liven up everyone's mood, even if just a little.