Afraid of the Dark
Montana
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of
Laurell K Hamilton’s wonderful characters, Brooks and Dunn, 93.7 the Bull, or
the E-town Firefighter’s Back draft Rodeo. I hope I own myself, and I suppose
all the rest is fair game. Lol.
Brooks and Dunn and other
country favorites pounded on the loud speakers. There were four of them stacked
high, each at least five feet tall. The bustle of the crowd and the noise
emitted from the speakers manned by the local radio station 93.7 The Bull made
the horses nervous, and the canon fired after singing the national anthem made
them fidget even more.
However, I doubted the horses
were as nervous as I was at my first rodeo. I was the youngest cowgirl there at
the E-town, 16 years old, and I was competing in bull riding and barrel racing.
Bull riding was first, and if things went badly I wouldn’t make it to barrel
racing. But the adrenaline rush made it all worth it.
It was my turn to go. I had
drawn a tough ride named Ol’ Red. He jumped up on the gate twice while the
cowboys were helping me get my fit on the bull. He was mad, and ready to throw
me off. Lucky for me, I didn’t feel like getting thrown.
My left hand gripped the rope
that was all that attached me to the bull. I had ridden mechanical bulls before,
but this was real, and it had horns. I nodded, ready as I would ever be, and
the gate opened. I held all the fury in the world between my legs as that bull
thrashed in circles, hind legs flailing. Time slowed to a drip as I waited for
that 8 second bell to ring.
I could feel my grip slipping,
every joint and bone in my body jarred. Just as the 8 second bell buzzed loud
for all to hear I lost my grip, and was suddenly flying in the air. I landed in
front of the bull, and before the clowns could rush in the bull’s head
violently flung me up in the air. I did a full flip in the air and hit the
ground hard on my back and shoulder. My next instinct was to roll away, and I
rolled in the dirt until I could gain my feet and jump up on the railing.
Somehow I didn’t get hooked.
As soon as I was sure the bull
was back on its way to be herded back into the pen I dropped to the ground,
starting to the back gate. “Damn,” I wheezed, relearning how to breath. My back
was sore, and a few ribs might have been bruised, but I doubted it. I listened
for my score through the clapping and whistles of the crowd. “81.6,” said the
announcer.
With a grin I took off my hat
and waved to the crowd even though it hurt, and waved to my friends. They were
clustered together on the bleachers nearest the park playground and make-shift
souvenir shop under the old park gazebo. Except for my 18 yr old best friend
and boyfriend who stood out from the whole crowd because he was nearly 7 feet
tall, they all were 10 years older than me or more, but they were my friends
all the same, the e-town townies.
Mingling next to the bleachers,
blending in with the crowd, for some reason a man caught my attention. He was
dressed like most of the rest of the people around there. Jeans, silver belt buckle,
white shirt, white hat. It was his eyes that caught my attention, even across
the arena. They were pale blue, and cold as his stare met mine. I could have
sworn Edward was at the E-town Firefighter’s Backdraft Rodeo, but when I
glanced again he had disappeared.
Shaking my head, I went into the
gate. It turned out I had gotten a high score, but not high enough to win. The
same happened with the barrel racing. My time was 13 odd seconds. Not bad, but
not fast enough. I wasn’t too bummed though. I tried, and I was happy.
Hanging out with my friends over
by the horse trailers on the other side of the small park by the parking lot, I
spotted the man again standing by a big Doge 2500. It looked like he was
watching me, inconspicuously. Out of the corner of my eye I studied him. The
resemblance to Edward was uncanny. But when I saw him wander off and hop up
into a Hummer, that was the last straw. I had to know.
Pecking my boyfriend on the
cheek, I said, “I’ll be back,” and sprinted off towards my truck. He had to
have been confused as hell, and I was surprised he didn’t follow. Firing up my
black Chevy 1500, I pulled out of the parking lot, the Hummer’s red taillights
still barely in sight through the trees heading down Maple Way. Locking it in
4WD, I pulled through a muddy ditch to get to the road, because it was faster.
It seemed to piss off the traffic directors in their garish orange vests, but I
didn’t care.
I followed the Hummer all the
way through The Legends, which was a ridiculously priced subdivision in E-town,
full of huge expensive poorly built houses and just as poorly mannered people
with more money than sense. There had been a meth-lab bust there not too long
ago, which was still a laughing topic for the rest of the normal people in the
town.
The road going through the
Legends led to another older outer road, which depending on your route, could
lead to the heart of the woods of Allenton by the Meremec river, or to the
heart of the town. When I followed the Edward look alike onto the highway
headed out towards Pacific and Gray Summit, small towns like E-town, he must
have figured out I was following him, because he sped up to about 80 on the
highway. I followed, the Chevy easily keeping up.
Pulling up next to the Hummer, I
looked over at the Edward look alike. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I
couldn’t help but feel a chill like someone had just walked over my grave. He
smiled slightly, nodding to the side, indicating that he was going to pull off
of the exit ramp into Pacific. I nodded as well, and followed.
He led the way to a side road,
and then off road, going up a steep rocky hill and into a stand of conifers.
The Hummer pulled into a clearing and a halting stop. I pulled up beside him.
Listening to the clicking of the dieing engine after shutting off the ignition,
I paused a moment, thinking over what I had just done. I had just followed a
complete stranger to a remote spot in the boonies on a whim that he might be my
favorite book character. If I was right, he was one of the most dangerous men
in the nation. If I was wrong, and I was probably wrong, he was still a
complete stranger and could have been jack the ripper for all I knew.
Pushing that into the back of my
mind, I stepped down from the cab of the Chevy, and leaned on my bumper,
mimicking Edward’s look alike, crossing my arms. He studied me with those cool
blue eyes, curious.
Finally breaking the silence, I
asked, “Who are you?”
“I could ask the same,” he
countered, tone flat, expressionless.
“You were watching me first,” I
said defensively. “I’m sure you already know who I am.”
He smiled slightly. “I suppose
that’s a good argument. Yes, I do already know who you are, Montana. It seems
to me that when you’re not riding things you’re writing. Fan fiction, to be
precise.”
“Maybe. Are you—”
“Am I Edward?” he beat me to the
question. “Is that what you want to know? Is that why you chased me out here?”
“Yeah, I recon’ that’s what I
want to know.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’m Edward. I’m Ted
Forrester.”
I blinked a few times, grasping
the reality of the situation. Edward was real. Ted was real. He cowboyed up
pretty good, but his voice and his eyes gave it all away. The man in front of
me wasn’t playing Ted now.
The next question I had to ask
was, “Is it all real? Are there other characters that are real too?”
“Sure, its all real.”
“Anita?”
“Yes.”
“Jean-Claude?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Donna and the kids?”
Edward only paused to blink, but
answered once again, “Yes.”
“But that means everyone who
reads the books knows about you.”
He smiled secretively. “True,
but very few know I’m real.”
“Define very few.” I wanted to
know how many others knew.
“Actually, you’re the only one
I’ve told. I’ve had people second glance me before like I looked familiar, but
no one’s ever been dumb enough or brazen enough to actually chase me down.” The
last was said with a note of humor, and I smiled. Yeah, I guess it was pretty
dumb. But rewarding. Hey, he hadn’t killed me yet.
“So I’m the only one who knows?”
“Not necessarily. I can’t speak
for the other characters. But you’re one of the few, I’m sure.”
“So why don’t we ever hear about
Anita on the news for real? Or about vampires and werewolves and stuff?”
Edward just shrugged. “I don’t
know. Why don’t you?” That wasn’t much of an answer.
“So why are you here? Of all the
places in the world you could be, why were you at the E-town rodeo?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Did not.” I couldn’t really
think of any reason why he would want to see me. It wasn’t like I won anything
at the rodeo. Although I imagine it was a spectacle to see that bull flip me up
in the air like a rag doll.
“I did,” he insisted. “I’ve read
all of your fan fiction. I suppose I was just curious what the actual author
was like, who was unwittingly writing about my life.”
My eyes widened when I heard he
had read my fan fiction. “You’ve seen my website?” I asked, embarrassed.
The assassin chuckled. “Oh yes.
It’s worth a laugh or two. Especially the dear death section. I’m tempted to
try out the silver nitrate in Jean-Claude’s douche.”
I couldn’t help but smile at
that. “So how do you like my fan fiction? It’s not accurate or anything, I’m
sure.”
“For the most part. I haven’t
gotten Anita pregnant.” That last part was said with such a lack of emotion it
took me a moment to realize that he had made a joke.
“But you are in love with her.”
It wasn’t really a question.
Edward studied me, weighing what
he should say. “Of course,” he finally answered.
“Why don’t you tell her?” It was
an honest question.
“If you know me as well as I
think you do, then you know why.”
I nodded. I supposed I did.
There was a silence that lasted a few minutes. It was late September, and the
night was chilly. I pulled my brown suede leather coat tighter around me.
Surprisingly, Edward was the one who broke the silence. “So now that you know,
what are you going to do with the information?” he questioned.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, you seem pretty tough.
Now that you know they’re real, are you going to want to hunt the monsters?”
I had wished so many times
before that the monsters were real so I could be a bounty hunter. But now that
I was faced with the actual TRUTH that there really were fanged clawed things
that lived not just in the dark parts of our minds, I wasn’t sure. “I don’t
know. Lord knows I’ve thought about it before and wanted to do it, but now I’m
not sure.”
Edward nodded. “You’re young.
You don’t have to decide now. But now that you know they’re real, you’ll start
to see things others don’t. The mind puts up barriers with what’s supposed to
be reality. People that disappear without a trace won’t just be runaway
children or unstable men and women who just felt like leaving their lives and
starting new. You’ll start to notice the graceful shape shifters. You’ll start to
notice those paler than what is healthy in the night.” Edward opened the door
to the Hummer, leaning on it as he stepped up on the running board so he could
see me. Looking directly at me, he warned, “If you’re not afraid of the dark
now, you will be.”
“I suppose I will,” was all I
could think to answer.
“People who know about the monsters are rare, Montana. We always need warriors. Think about being a hunter, and not the hunted. Maybe I’ll stay in touch.” With that Edward dropped down into his Hummer, started it up, and drove away. I stood there, dumbfounded. Maybe I had found out more than what I bargained for. Suddenly aware of every rustling leaf of the woods, I climbed back up in the Chevy, locked the doors, and drove back to the rodeo.