Sonder (Rise of the Omni Book 1) Read online

  The curtains rustle from the movement of the vines growing at a rapid rate. Shuttering, the fabric parts in its weave by small grasping leaves. A vine creeps across the floor and embeds itself into small gaps between the wooden boards.

  The man sits up abruptly, only now hearing the words of his mistress. “What? What do you mean, you’re sorry? Is everything all right?” he asks, holding her at arm's length to scan her face.

  “I am so sorry, Love. I can’t really explain it, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry…” Her voice trails off as she looks away from his gaze, ashamed. The man’s mouth gapes wide in shock. He drops his hands from her arms and appears to be deciding what to do. “We still have tonight. We do,” she insists. “Let’s take tonight and just enjoy it together.”

  She looks up at him, apology and hope in her eyes. “Please, hold me one last time, Love. Be with me one last time,” she pleads.

  The man scoops up his mistress and pulls her onto his lap, his own salt and peppered hair falling forward to graze his eyebrows. A vine loops its way up the nightstand leg, spiraling upward toward the lamp resting on its surface. Slipping his fingers under the small strap of her dress, he slides it off her shoulder. Tilting her head to the side, she welcomes his mouth on her neck, his breath on her skin. She lays her body down, sideways across his lap, and looks into his eyes as he gathers up her figure with his. The dress clings to her assets, thin and revealing. Her perky breasts press into the fabric of the dress teasingly. The light in the room fades away, shadowed by the vine climbing the lamp shade to cascade down from the lamp, the leaves stretching onto the mattress.

  “I just wanted you to look at me like this. I just wanted to see you smile at me,” she whispers, changing the mood with her rushed words. The vine that has crept its way around her leg snarls and she realizes it is too late. “Please forgive me! I just wanted you to see me again, the way you used to!” She slides off his lap and lowers herself onto the covers. He brushes her hair behind her ears and looks at her face with concern.

  “What is going on, what do you mean?” As he removes his hand, her hair pulls away with his fingers. The breath wavers in her body and she fades away, too many transformations having drained her of her years. Her skin turning pale and sickly.

  “I didn’t know it would take so much out of me when I started. But when I did and saw how you looked at me…” Her eyelids flutter and the woman he holds in his arms begins to gray and age at an astounding rate.

  The man looks down in shock, understanding at last what she means. He now holds his wife in the stead of his mistress. He cradles her body, the room spinning with comprehension, as her spirit leaves them.

  The vines unfurl from around the wife’s leg and once again recede slowly back out the window. The house moans and creaks with the weight of all the foliage returning to the forest. A silence fills the air and leaves the man to hold his wife, seeing her for the first time in so long. Seeing his wife too late.

  Chapter 6

  Waitresses rush around Calista while her new boss hovers somewhere close behind. She works hard to absorb all the new information, the foreign context trying to find a doorway inside her head. She stands still and looks around her. The day swallowing her whole, she moves from task to task until the clock nears the end of her shift. She wipes down the tables from customers just departed and refills the salt and pepper shakers. Other workers bustle around, taking food or drink to smiling faces or people who have drunk one too many before stumbling in for some pancakes and hash browns. Untying her apron, she folds it up and stuffs it in her bag kept under the counter.

  Most everyone is too busy to take time to give her more than a nod as she clocks out and heads toward her car. It’s Friday night, and she debates whether she should have just stuck around, but is hopeful she’ll find something else to do instead. With no plans ahead of her, she decides to make something up. The reverse lights of her car brighten as she backs out of her stall and makes her way toward the nearest superstore.

  As she drives into the store parking lot, she goes slowly, looking for the usual crowds that form on the weekends. Coming up empty, she drives around the store and searches for a spot closer to the doors.

  As she puts her car in Park and gets out, distant music comes closer and the revving of a large engine echoes around the lot. A truck pulls in, waving an American Flag from its bed, the pole taller than the cab itself. She guesses the truck to be white but is only assuming as whatever color it is, it’s hidden under layers of caked on mud and dirt covering the entire vehicle. A moment later she notices a small patch that’s been cleared away where the windshield wipers are and grins to herself.

  That new recklessness and disregard for her own safety surfaces. On impulse, she makes her way over to the jacked-up ride and waits for the occupants to climb out. A guy opens the door and looks down, an expression of confusion on his face.

  “Can I help you?” he asks. Calista sees he’s wearing tattered jean shorts that hang long past his knees and a heavily-used t-shirt.

  “Have you been mudding?” She looks up at the two men who’ve emerged and waits for their answers.

  Finishing their climb down, they both study her and finally, the driver replies. “Yes?” he says, in a simple and sweet tone, although the single word comes out as a question.

  “If you go again soon, would you mind taking me with you?” She lets her lips turn up just slightly in a grin and puts her hands in her pockets.

  The two guys glance at each other then back at her. The driver answers again. “We’re just coming back from it. We need ropes to pull another out of the mud that got stuck. What are you doing right now?”

  Her heart races and her mind flips over itself, running in circles inside her skull. What is she thinking? She doesn’t know these guys!

  “Hopefully, I’m going mudding,” she says and puts out her hand. “I’m Elara,” she adds, testing out the new name on her tongue.

  “Wayne,” the driver answers her, shaking her hand and nodding in the direction of his companion, "and this here is Randy.”

  They invite her to walk with them into the store to get the ropes they need, and further their introductions. After securing their purchases, they help her up into the front seat. Excited and exhilarated for her new adventure, Elara looks down at her feet as she gets situated and she sees that mud has caked the floorboards and dash. Something about the energy of the situation fills a hole in her that calls out for home.

  They travel along the highway in the dark until the driver slows to turn onto a dirt road. They bounce over bumps and the deeper they go down the uneven path, the more grass and mud cover the way. Trees close in tighter and they take sharp turns, both Wayne and Randy bumping into her occasionally. Neither apologizes, instead, they laugh and cheer as they go deeper and deeper into the thickening brush.

  A clearing opens before them, and a huge light dances over other trucks and SUVs parked in a horseshoe around it. Music blasts from the biggest truck near the fire and a group of people crowd around, holding cups and swaying to the melody. The headlights of the truck she is in raises the attention of the people and they lift their drinks to the new arrivals. Without a look over his shoulder, Wayne puts his vehicle in Park and leaps down.

  “Got em!” he calls out and he swings a leg up over the truck bed to toss out a mass of ropes and ties.

  Randy opens the door for Calista, now Elara, and helps her down. “Welcome to Lake Sticks,” he announces.

  She looks around, and for the first time in a long time, she feels good. A good that does not come with expectations or conditions. She makes her way around, introducing herself and making new friends. The night couldn’t last long enough, she thinks a while later and loses track of who she’s even with anymore.

  They let her drive and hit the roads, squealing as her head almost hits the roof and mud flies in through the windows. They find an abandoned trailer falling apart in the woods and scavenge pieces to toss on th
e fire. She takes a turn tossing chunks of scrap metal and trash over the heat to race across it through the flames. Sparks jump into the sky and she looks up as they blend with the stars.

  Someone calls her name from beyond the line of parked vehicles and she walks over, conversation still strong behind her. “I wanted to show you why they call this Lake Sticks,” Randy says, and he points out into the darkness.

  “Um…” She squints hard but can’t see anything beyond the glow of the fire behind them. He pulls a flashlight from his pocket and shines it out over the water, the beam too dim to see much of anything. She looks over, about to throw out some witty comment, just as the clouds move and the moon reveals its face to assist. A reflection of the moon wavers in the lake below, pockmarked by leafless trees reaching out from the surface of the water.

  “This used to be part of the forest,” he explains. “No one really knows why, but it flooded and has been this way ever since.” He holds his hand out palm up, curving his fingers to the sky, and gesturing in a jabbing motion with his fingers. “It looks like sticks poking up from the lake, see?”

  “It’s actually kinda beautiful.” She soaks up the scene before her.

  “Legend has it, this lake is magical.” He puts his hands in his pockets and leans in, speaking in a storytelling voice.

  “Oh, does it now?” she says, her tone full of humor.

  “Yup. It’s supposedly a portal or something. I don’t really remember the whole tale. There're stories of people going for a swim and never coming back, but also stories of people coming out of the lake that never went into it, to begin with. That’s why the locals don’t go in the water.”

  He returns his gaze to the lake and his expression becomes serious. “I lost a brother to this lake. The sticks make it impossible to dredge, but divers searched the entire thing. I never saw him again.”

  “Were you with him when he went in?” Sympathy covers her face.

  “Yeah, we were younger, just reached our teens. He challenged me to a swim across. We’d heard the legends but wanted to be tough and impress some girls. At the last minute, I was too afraid, and when he jumped in, I didn’t follow him.”

  Elara simply nods, her throat too tight to utter a sound.

  “Do you see that bend over there?” He points to a portion in the lake where land juts out and foliage hangs into the water. “He went around that corner and that was it. He was an amazing swimmer; I still don’t believe he drowned.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, that’s awful. I know this might sound insensitive, but if that happened to you, what makes you keep coming back here?” she asks.

  His face lightens a little, the somber expression lifting. “Nah, it’s okay. I guess because the energy of this place is like crack. It’s been a hangout for everyone since before I can remember. You come down here and something in you just fills up. This is, like, just the ‘spot’ to be. If that even makes sense.” He looks down at his boots and slowly turns. “I’m gonna head back. You coming?”

  She trails behind him, trying to put the story out of her head. The music gets louder as they get closer to the fire where a group of guys are stoking the pile and crumpling up cans to toss in the midst. One guy gets his hat ripped from his head and Elara watches as it sails into the fire. He turns around to attack the thief and then reaches into the flames to save his hat.

  The morning offers itself to the crowd and everyone packs up their vehicles to leave. Elara looks around as sunlight touches the clearing and she scans around for her ride.

  “You coming?” Wayne asks as she hears the engine turnover. Climbing into the truck, they return her to her car at the store parking lot.

  The store is nearly deserted at this hour and everything is quiet. Pulling out onto the road, her thoughts take her back to the lake. At first, she had meant to go home, but with little thought, she drives toward the dirt turnoff leading to the clearing. Once she realizes where she’s heading, she doesn’t stop herself. Not tired yet, she intends to take her paints out from the back of her car and paint the lake in the morning sun.

  Hoping she truly remembers the way back, she is a little surprised to see she can navigate the way to her destination on the first try, but immensely grateful for her all-wheel drive. Remnants of the fire lay in the middle of the clearing looking abandoned and forgotten. Small embers still smolder, and the lake reveals itself to her how large it really is. As far as her eyes can see, the water of the lake touches the horizon and meets the sky. She wonders how deep it is and sees the tops of trees and sticks poking out from the surface.

  Parking her car with the rear facing the lake, she opens the hatch and sits down. Dangling her feet, she breathes in the smells and listens to the water quietly lapping at the rocks and earth, and the leaves rustling in the surrounding forest. Gathering her painting supplies, she sets up her easel and canvas.

  A voice carries across the wind to her ears and she looks up from her painting. The words are inaudible, but enough to know it’s the sound of someone’s voice. Looking around, her arm hovering in the air and paintbrush still in hand, Elara answers. “Hello?” she calls out toward the lake. The air stills and crickets mock her question. Thinking she is possibly certifiable, she looks back down at her work. She tries to get back to the peaceful feeling from before but a wind blows over the lake again and hits her in the face, carrying a single word with it. “Come,” the voice calls, the word clear this time.

  Suddenly uncomfortable knowing that she is no longer alone, Elara tosses her supplies back in their bag and leaps out of the car. She glances around, agitated and worried now, and slams the hatch closed. She clambers around the car, clumsily tripping on a rock, and grabs onto the hood for balance. She hastily climbs in the driver’s seat, her hands trembling as she inserts the keys into the ignition.

  Her car's tires leave the ground as she speeds over bumps and through portions of the roadway covered in mud. Watching from her rearview mirror for anyone following her, she makes it back onto the main road and drives straight for home.

  Chapter 7

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Her fingers play restlessly on the table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Fffphw.

  She blows upward at the hair that has fallen over her forehead. It’s neatly pinned up, yet somehow still finds its way back into her face. She waits patiently for the manager to get to her training. A grumpy old woman with mixed patterned clothes, and a body so large her hips fall over the edges of her chair. The manager attends to her paperwork ignoring Elara. Clink. Tap. Clink. She tosses her keys calmly around in her hands. Fffphw. Damned hair.

  She wants to get started; she’s eager to work again. Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she thinks to reach in and silence it. But before she has a chance, again, the phone rings in her pocket. Frustrated, she pulls it out. The screen lights up with the message Call from Mom, preceded by 2 missed calls and the message icon in the corner of the phone flashes 5 new messages. Worry heats her cheeks, and she excuses herself from the small back room where she waited for the manager’s attention.

  Swinging open the doors into the back kitchen, she leans against the cold brick and punches in her mother’s number.

  “Hello?” Worried, she questions the message of her mother’s voicemail, wrongfully assuming her to have answered. She presses the end call button, wishing silently for a flip phone she can slap shut. Pushing herself away from the wall, she paces back and forth, stepping in discarded cigarettes and smelling the reek of the dumpster. Her phone vibrates in her hand and she fumbles to answer. “Hello? Mom?”

  “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized my phone was on silent. Did you get my messages?” Her mother’s voice fills her ears, and she sits down on the half wall.

  “No, I saw you messaged me, but I’m at work today. That’s where I am now. Is everything all right?” Rolling a cigarette under her shoe, she holds the phone tight.

  “Oh honey, no it’s not. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but…” Silence hangs between them and a
fter a long pause her mother continues, her words hesitant. “It’s your father. He’s in the hospital. We aren’t sure what’s going on but he isn’t doing well. At all.”

  “Wait, what happened? I don’t understand.” Elara’s voice shakes.

  “We don’t know much, just that he was found at work unconscious and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital. My first thought was he had a heat stroke because the machines get so hot, but the doctors are saying it’s much more than that. They’re waiting for tests to confirm exactly what’s going on with him, but they’re thinking it might be Huntington’s Disease.” Her mother talks fast and fear lies heavy in her tone of voice. “All we can do right now is pray.”

  “Huntington’s?” Gasping for air, tears race down Elara’s face. “Wait, isn’t Huntington’s Disease…hereditary?”

  “It is, but you don’t have it. And besides, we don’t know if that’s what it is for one hundred percent, yet,” her mother says with haste.