Eli's Town Read online

  “It's totally not creepy in here,” he continued, taking her all the way to the top and then leading her to one of the doors, which opened into a room with a double bed in the far corner. “Don't worry, most of the stories about this place are just garbage that gets tossed about by idiots at school. Like that Tatty girl and the way she's always spreading dumb conspiracy theories about the town.”

  “But you said -”

  “I was trying to scare you.”

  “Why?”

  “It's fun, isn't it? Being scared, I mean.” He led her over to the bed and then turned to her. “Do you ever feel like everyone else at school is the same? Like they're just clones of each other?” He paused, his face just about visible in the darkness. “That's what made me notice you, Brit. You're different. You're... I don't know, you're you.”

  “Thanks,” she replied. “I think.”

  “I mean it. It's rare for someone to be an individual in this town.”

  “Are you sure it's safe?” she asked, looking down at the bed. For a moment, she felt she wanted to tell him she wasn't ready to go all the way, but at the same time she also didn't want to seem like a dumb kid and she figured no-one was ever really ready. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she felt a tightening sense of anticipation in her chest as Jordan sat next to her, and a moment later she felt his hand on her knee.

  It doesn't have to be perfect, she told herself. Just get the first time over with.

  “You know,” he said finally, “I've been keeping an eye on you.”

  “You have?” She couldn't help but smile, even though she knew he couldn't see her properly in the dark.

  “You're reaching that point,” he continued.

  “What point?”

  “You know. Where you become a real woman.”

  She let out a sniff of laughter, but a fraction of a second later she felt his hand moving a little further up her leg, squeezing tighter. His skin was rough, rougher than anything she'd felt before, but she didn't mind so much; it was just nice to be touched.

  “Really?” she asked, as the sense of anticipation tightened in her chest.

  “Things change when you get older,” he continued, the silhouette of his face just about visible against the window's dark rectangle. “In your body, I mean.” He paused, before reaching up and putting his hand on the side of her head. “In here too.”

  “I guess so,” she replied, as her nervous smile grew. Her eyes were becoming more accustomed to the darkness now, but she still couldn't see much more than the basic outline of the room. Still, she'd decided: no matter what, she was going to go through with it. She'd worry about everything else once she got to the other side. “I didn't think you'd been watching me, though. Until about a week ago, I didn't think you even knew my name.”

  “Oh, I knew your name a long time ago,” he continued. “I make it my business to know the names of everyone at school. I just felt the time wasn't right, I felt I had to wait for you to be ready.” He looked down at her waist, and then slowly up across her chest. “I waited and waited and waited. Each day, I could tell you were getting a little closer, but I knew you weren't done, not yet. It was like watching a steak cooking slowly. You have to wait until it's juicy and tender and pink on the inside.”

  “Jordan...” Looking down at his hand, she realized for the first time that several of his fingernails were missing.

  “It's so hard to be sure,” he added, clearly mesmerized as he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed tight, feeling the bone beneath. “I promise you, Brittany, this isn't an exact science, but the thing is...” He paused, blinking furiously for a moment, his face just about visible in the darkness. “I can afford to be a little early,” he whispered finally, “but I can't afford to be one second late. I really hope you understand that.”

  She waited, but he seemed lost in thought.

  Looking at her shoulder, she saw his hand resting on her shirt and she realized that something imperceptible had changed, something she couldn't even define but which was now telling her to leave. Gut instinct, maybe, or common sense.

  “Jordan,” she said finally, tentatively, “I'm not sure I'm really feeling this right now.”

  Again she waited, but again he seemed not to hear her, almost as if his mind was elsewhere. After a moment, however, his lips began to move slightly, as if he was silently telling himself something. His hand, still resting on her shoulder, felt like a dead weight now.

  “I think I want to go,” she told him, making to get up from the bed but finding herself quickly held down by his hand on her arm. She didn't want to make a fuss, not yet, but she felt increasingly uncomfortable and she was starting to wonder if Jordan was on drugs. “Maybe we can do this again,” she suggested, even though the idea made her feel nauseous. “I really don't want to...”

  Pausing, she realized she could hear his voice now, just about whispering.

  “What are you saying?” she asked, leaning closer.

  The whispering continued, almost loud enough to be heard as words but...

  Not quite.

  “Jordan,” she continued, reaching up and trying to gently push his hand off her shoulder. “I don't think -”

  “Coming up the stairs,” he said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the wall.

  She stared at him, waiting for him to say something that would help that last sentence to make sense. “What?” she asked finally.

  “Careful,” he continued, sounding a little out of breath. “Don't trip.” He frowned. “This is harder in the dark.”

  A fraction of a second later, there was a sudden creaking sound from the stairs, almost as if...

  Brittany turned and looked over at the door. “Is someone else here?”

  “Someone else?” Jordan turned to her as a smile spread across his face. “No. No, I swear on all that's holy, on all that matters in the whole world, that you and I are the only ones here. You believe me, don't you?”

  She shook her head, sitting up as she heard another creak on the steps, closer this time. “I heard someone,” she continued, her heart pounding in her chest. “Jordan, I'm not joking, there's someone coming up. I don't think this house is empty.”

  “It's just us,” he replied, grabbing her by the chin and turning her face so that their eyes met. “I swear, Brittany. It's just you and me, all alone. You really, really have to understand that. It's you and me here, and no-one else.” With that, he moved his hand to her chest and tried to push her down onto the bed, only for her to pull away and get to her feet.

  “Enough!” she said firmly.

  “Brit -”

  “Someone's here,” she continued, trying not to panic as she heard more creaking and then finally saw a hint of movement outside the door, as if a shadow was being cast across the wall beyond the door. “Jordan, look! There's -”

  Before she could finish, she was grabbed from behind and pulled down onto the bed, and Jordan quickly moved to pin her down as he swung his leg over her waist and straddled her. She fought back, but he was much, much stronger than she'd ever suspected and he quickly managed to force her down with apparent ease.

  “Jordan!”

  “Calm down!”

  “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think?” He adjusted his grip on her wrists, holding her more firmly this time. “You've just gotta give in to it a little, Brit. Just a little, not a lot. It's not like you can do anything to stop it, so why not accept the inevitable and just cooperate?”

  “Jordan -”

  “Everyone here has done it,” he continued. “You're not special. You're gonna be just like all the others.”

  “What -” Staring up at him, she began to realize what he meant. “You can't be serious,” she whispered, feeling a cold chill run through her chest. “Jordan, I swear to God, if you don't let me go right now... Debbie knows where I am! I told her I was coming here with you! If you do anything to me, I'll go to the police, they have ways they can prove it! I don't care if o
ther girls stayed silent, but I won't!”

  She tried again to get free.

  “Debbie knows where I am!” she yelled.

  “Debbie knows?” He smiled. “That's not gonna help you. I know Debbie knows.”

  “What are you -”

  Spotting movement nearby, she turned and looked toward the door, where a dark, hulking figure was now silhouetted against the frame.

  “Who the hell is that?” Brittany shouted, before looking over at the window. “Help!” she shouted. “Someone help me!”

  “You can scream all you want,” Jordan said with a smile, still holding her down as she struggled violently to get free, “but it won't help.”

  “Someone has to hear me!” she shouted. “Help! I'm in here! Help me!”

  “No-one,” he continued, “literally no-one, is gonna come running, and do you know why?” He leaned closer, until his breath was once again against her face. “Because they all know that this is something that has to happen. It's like a ritual or a tradition. I'm just lucky that I get to be so involved.” He pulled back as she tried to bite him, and then he dug his knee into her belly, causing her to let out a gasp of pain. “Trust me,” he continued, “when this is over, in an hour or a day or whatever, you're gonna have no more regrets. You're gonna be one of us forever.”

  Behind him, the silhouetted figure stepped closer, towering over the bed now with a faint wheezing sound coming from its mouth.

  “You're gonna love this,” Jordan continued, leaning down and kissing Brittany's forehead. “You're gonna be so grateful when it's all over.”

  As he got to work fixing the restraints around her wrists, he smiled, ignoring her increasingly terrified screams. Next to the bed, the silhouetted figure leaned closer, as if to get a better view.

  ***

  Outside, Brittany's screams rang out loud from the house, loud enough to be heard for several miles around. Nearby, lights were already flicking on in some of the other houses, and gradually people were stepping out from their front doors.

  No-one ran.

  No-one panicked.

  No-one asked what was happening.

  They all knew.

  A crowd had already gathered on the dark lawn, with more arriving from other parts of the town. Everyone was staring at the upstairs window, watching the darkness and listening to Brittany's terrified cries for help. No-one flinched, however; no-one even moved, no glances were shared. There were a hundred people on the lawn now, and a hundred more making their way along the street, as if the whole town was slowly gathering to listen to whatever was taking place in Eli's house, their blank faces still staring up at the window.

  And then one-by-one, as if on cue, a smile spread across the crowd from face to face, as Brittany's screams filled the night sky.

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Holly

  Three weeks later

  “Someone has to check on Eli,” she replies, her voice hissing a little over the bad connection, “and that someone has to be you. I did it last year, Brad did it the year before, so we figured this time it's your turn.”

  “Hang on.”

  Cutting the car's engine, I lean back and listen to the silence. Well, relative silence. After driving all night, the sound of the engine was almost becoming part of my conscious mind, an ever-present drone in the background. Now that I've finally reached the outskirts of Tulepa and pulled up in a parking lot on the edge of town, I feel as if I could just go to sleep right here in the driver's seat. Somewhere nearby, out of sight, kids are calling out to one another, and when I turn to look across the parking lot I see the sun's rays just poking above the horizon.

  “It's going the wrong way,” I whisper wearily.

  “What is?” Karen asks, with the sound of controlled chaos in the background. My sister is always so busy and in-control, it's tiring just hearing her life.

  “The sun,” I continue, remembering my posture and sitting up straight. “I'm exhausted. The sun should be going down when I'm this tired, not coming up.” Checking my watch, I see that it's a little before 7am. “Would it be totally wrong of me to get a motel room and sleep the rest of the day?”

  “After you've checked on Eli.”

  “After I've checked on Eli.” Sighing, I open the glove-box, only for a torrent of papers and fast-food serviettes to fall out. “Are you sure a phone call wouldn't be enough?” I ask. “I mean, the guy's not a child, I'm sure he's capable of looking after himself. He's, what, in his fifties now? Isn't it insulting the way we always come and check up on him?” I start rifling through the glove-box, searching for a power bar. Anything with sugar, basically.

  Sighing, I realize I'm all out.

  “You know the deal,” Karen continues. “Hey, Johnny, leave your brother alone!” She sighs. “Jesus, these kids are gonna be the death of me one day. Listen, Holly, you know the deal, Eli's...” She pauses, for once seemingly lost for words. “Eli's different. I know he's our uncle and that means we love him and all, blah blah, but he doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the family, or even the rest of the world. Mom worries about him, living there in Tulepa and not really having any friends, and she says he never initiates contact, she's always the one who has to call. Not that he even picks up anymore. She always swore to visit him once a year, just to make sure he's doing okay, and now she's not so mobile...” Yet another pause. “We're not really doing it for Eli, you know. We're doing it for Mom.”

  “I know,” I mutter, looking at the back seat but spotting nothing I can eat. Sighing, I realize I need sugar. Oh, and coffee. Jesus Christ, how I need coffee. And a bed. “Well,” I say finally, “I've got his address, so I'll go over once I've woken up. It'll be fun to see him again, it's been years. How did he seem to you last year when you came to check on him?”

  “Oh, you know...” There's the sound of her dealing with some minor crisis on the other end of the line. “He was fine,” she adds, clearly distracted. “Still Eli, still weird, but fine.”

  “But did he seem -”

  “Listen, I've got to go, the kids are hyper this morning and Brad's already left for work. Don't feel like you have to spend all day with Eli, just pop in, make him feel like the rest of the family hasn't forgotten him, and then we're all guilt-free for another year. And Holly... You're doing okay, right?”

  I check my reflection in the car's rear-view mirror. Wow, when did I develop crow's feet around my eyes? Am I getting old?

  “Holly?”

  “I'm fine,” I tell her. “This trip to see Eli is probably a good thing. A way to keep busy, you know?”

  “I know breaking up with Dean probably hurts,” she continues, “but it was the right move. The guy's a dirt-bag.”

  “I know,” I reply weakly.

  “You don't miss him, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And this time the break-up's gonna be permanent, right? Please, for the love of God don't take him back again.”

  “I won't.”

  “He cheated on you, remember? More than -”

  “Gotta go,” I reply, interrupting her. “I'll call and let you know when I've checked on Eli.”

  Once the call is over and I've managed to get Holly to stop fussing, I open the car door and climb out stiffly into the cool morning air. After spending the past four hours cooped up in the driver's seat, I feel as if my entire body is slightly compressed, so after pushing the door shut I take a moment to stretch, which of course brings on a yawn. The last time I was here in Tulepa, I was twenty-goddamn-one years old and I still thought I was going to be president some day. I was studying medicine, not quite a doctor at that stage, and I was convinced I'd end up happily married one day with kids and a nice house. And now? I'm a doctor, sure, but the husband, kids and house have eluded me.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, I tell myself. At least you've got your health.

  True.

  As I head across the parking lot and around the side of the drug st
ore, I can't help noticing that nothing in Tulepa seems to have changed in the nineteen years since I was last here, and in a way that feels strangely reassuring. It's nice to know that the place has just sat here for the past decade, with everything staying the same. In fact, as I get around to the town square, I realize that every single shop seems to be exactly as I remember, which I figure must be some kind of world record in terms of resistance to change. It's almost like stepping back in time.

  “Morning,” a voice says nearby.

  I turn as a middle-aged man walks past, smiling at me as he enters a shop which has an actual bell above its door.

  “Morning,” I reply, but it's too late, he's already inside.

  Damn it, I'm so not used to people being polite and friendly. Strangers in Tulepa are more outgoing than actual friends in New York, and it's going to take a while to adjust to that difference. Or, it would take a while, if I was staying more than a few hours. Feeling as if I'm in a daze, I turn and make my way across the town square, heading toward the convenience store where Mom used to take me all those years ago to buy candy.

  I stop suddenly, feeling a shiver pass through my bones.

  When did I get old?

  “Morning,” a middle-aged woman says, smiling at me as she walks past with a little terrier on a string. “Nice day, huh?”

  “Sure,” I reply, very much aware that I'm not very good at this kind of smalltalk. “Um, yeah, thanks, it is.”

  I turn and watch as she and her dog head past the bench and make their way toward the other side of the square. She's not rushing, not stressing about anything, and I can't help wondering whether maybe she's got the right idea and I'm the one who hasn't got life figured out. After all, who really needs the constant stress of New York when it's apparently possible to live a perfectly happy contented life at a much slower pace? Turning, I look around at the stores and realize that in some ways, Tulepa is the kind of place I'd like to come back to some day, and buy a nice little house so I can get a change of pace. Retire here, even.