Shadow Valley. Michael R. Collings
call. And no light click-click-click of shoes on hardwood flooring, neither downstairs—where it was obvious that Lila was alone—nor echoing from upstairs.
Turning, she made her way back to the front door. Perhaps Ella had been overcome by the dust, or spooked by the silence. Perhaps she had stepped outside for a breath of clean air.
Lila opened the door.
To her surprise, the afternoon sun seemed to be resting on the crest of the distant mountains. The shadows crisscrossing the yard already had the misty tinge of twilight.
And yet they—she—had only been inside for a few moments. Out here, it was as if hours had passed. She could almost see the sun sinking as she stood there.
“Ella!” Her voice was tinged with concern, even with fear. “Ella!”
Suddenly she remembered her cell phone, snug in her pocket. She retrieved it and punched redial yet again.
Two rings.
Static.
Just as before.
“Ella! I hope you aren’t playing some kind of game with me. Please answer me. Are you out here? Ella!”
The only response was a faint, half-hearted echo, la-la-la, that faded too soon into silence.
Lila took the ramshackle steps in two strides, and in two more was beside her car. She yanked the front door open—the handle was cooler now, almost clammy—and slid onto the driver’s seat. She inserted the key, said a silent prayer, and turned.
Nothing.
Not even a click to tell her that there was life somewhere in the engine.
She got out again.
The disk of the sun was now partially obscured by the mountains. It was getting darker rapidly.
She punched the redial button on her cell again, more from anger, fear, and frustration than from any hope that her call would get through.
Nothing. Not even the two initial rings that she half-expected. Not even any static.
“Ella!” This time there was no missing the quaver of fear in her voice. “Ella, answer me!”
She shivered.
She looked over the top of the car at the wild-rose thickets that would lead her back to the road and from there back to Shadow Valley proper.
They were in full shadow...and to her imagination, the shadows seemed to shift and move as if alive.
No, she couldn’t walk between those thorny barricades, alone, at night, in an unfamiliar place. Anything would be better than that.
The car, then. Safely ensconced inside with the doors securely locked and the windows up.
Okay, she could justify not walking out of here by herself. But somehow she just couldn’t stomach the idea of hiding away in the car, terrified by every sound, by the high-pitched wail of a distant coyote or the scrape of a twig, caught up in the wind and dragged across the roof.
The house, then.
At least she could lock the front door from the inside, and the shattered panes were probably too small for anyone to crawl through.
What am I doing, she thought. Preparing for war?
Yes, the same half-familiar voice responded. Yes, you are.
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