The Cure

The girl handed the camera to Pitt when they crossed the grounds of his house again. While he busied himself with it, Sola sat down on the steps and wrapped her arms around her knees. Resting her forehead against them, she twirled a thick lock of hair around her finger and once again gave herself over to her speculations, which made her lose track of time and allowed the dreary events to pass by faster.

“Please, I really need this job.”

Across the street, she saw the guy who had been left without a job in the middle of the day. Clinging to a street payphone, he desperately tried to convince the person on the other end of the line to listen to him.

“I’ll take overtime. I’ll arrange other side jobs. I’ll show up on time.” — His persistent pleas rang out across the whole neighborhood, fading away just as pathetically as the guy’s confidence in himself. The lull set in the moment he gave up. The girl thought that if she were in the stranger’s place, she would be unbearably mad. She also thought about looking for a part-time job during the next school break.

“Hey, here.”

She flinched when Stu’s voice sounded behind her. The charged camera was in her hands again.

“Oh, cool. Bye.”

Without even bothering to look at the boy, she went down the steps and put her precious possession away. Picking up her bicycle, she was about to get on it and start riding along the sidewalk toward home.

“Wait!”

Sola didn’t want to turn around, already guessing what she was about to hear.

“Can I walk you home?”

“It’s far.” — That phrase was supposed to sound equivalent to a polite refusal, in the opinion of the one who had uttered it. She didn’t want to be rude to someone who had done her a favor out of pure selflessness, though his persistence might have tested the patience of even the most serene Buddhist monk.

“Then I’ll ask my mom. Wait.”

“God, you don’t have to…”

And indeed, after dialing Mrs. Pitt’s number, he could barely get permission to go. The girl could hear him trying to explain that she was sane and wasn’t part of any bad company. If Stu hadn’t been talking almost right next to her, she would have ridden away without looking back.

In the end, the boy’s bulk squeezed onto the back of the seat. Sola didn’t tell the boy the amusing story about how, just a couple of hours ago, she hadn’t known how to ride and later knocked down a passerby, because she only remembered it toward the end of their ride. If it had occurred to her earlier, she might have gotten rid of one talking tumor. But unfortunately for the girl, the ride went without any collisions or falls, which meant that Stu would probably keep calling himself along for the ride. She even deliberately tried to ride over protruding surfaces to throw her passenger off, but he held firmly onto his spot and babbled uncontrollably.

“And over there is the Masons’ estate. I wonder what Mayor Mason thinks about the disappearance of the people? Has it managed to leak into the press?”

Sola didn’t answer, continuing to pedal. The image of the older brother, who had set off into some uncharted wilderness because of his principles, flashed through her mind. What if he had disappeared too, like the high school kids? She thought that the world would more likely turn upside down than that Arameo would be gone, to everyone’s delight.

“He has a niece himself, Victoria. She’s the same age as the missing kids. I can imagine a whole bunch of police units here if she went missing!”

Passersby ignored the flyers on the banners, walked past, or merely glanced at them for a moment.

“And nobody needs this pair. Besides, I don’t think anything happened to them.”

Sola couldn’t hold back an ironic chuckle.

“Seriously? It’s just like you to spout some nonsense about aliens abducting them.”

“You’re just unaware of everything that’s going on. Bridget and Ethan are dating. There have been rumors going around the school for a long time that they’re planning to run away together.”

A story about a unconditional love affair wasn’t nearly as impressive as an abduction by an intergalactic race. But at least for now, she could enjoy the silence that had settled in, lasting all the way to their final stop. When they arrived, the two immediately got off the transport and stepped onto the empty road. A broken sigh made Sola turn around.

“You live with Satana?!” – The muffled cry seemed to surprise even the boy who had let it out. It made him hiccup, and momentarily covered his mouth with his hand. Sola might have thought that jerk had simply misspoken while saying her grandmother’s surname, but his reaction afterward unmistakably had some deeper meaning to it. She didn’t leave, demanding an explanation with her whole demeanor. None came, as Stu, glancing toward the crumbling house, hurried back.

“Well, bye! I’ll… get… back… somehow. Bye!”

And he hurried off, not even seeing where exactly he was going.

Sola, having shed the invisible weight from her shoulders, was finally able to breathe out calmly for the first time all day and go into the house. Having climbed the porch, the girl didn’t hurry to go inside and dug into the pocket of her pants. Inside, she found one empty gum wrapper and a button.

“Here we go.”

No one would take this in exchange for a train ticket or any other means of transportation. She had no valuable things left that were worth selling, since she had given everything away at the school sale a few months ago. That was when her mother later found the money her daughter had earned hidden away, then took it for herself and never gave it back. Sola didn’t know how her grandmother felt about personal savings. But unlike her mom, the old woman didn’t know what the girl wanted to spend them on.

So, all Sola could think of was to quietly wait for the right moments and make use of them. By the beginning of the next school year, she had set herself the goal of saving enough money for her future independent life. But for that, she would have to spend a year sharing one space with an unpredictable old lady and a hopeless idiot.

“Don’t even get me started, this is already too much.”

The almost inaudible noise coming from inside the house didn’t carry beyond the porch. Sola cracked open the unlocked front door, becoming drawn into someone’s emotional outpouring.

“They’ll only carry me out of this house in a coffin.”

Gabriella stood with her back to the entrance, pressing the dynamic to her ear. Once again, Sola found herself eavesdropping on someone’s tense phone conversation.

“Every pound here is soaked in my sweat and blood. Just let those monsters try to take it away from me!” – With her commanding voice and crisp diction, she could have successfully led entire revolutions or rallied soldiers’ spirits. At some points, Sola’s grandmother shouted so loudly that Sola silently felt sorry for her deafened conversation partner. – “I’ve lived here for this many years, and I’ll live out just as many more. No one will dare just come and tear down all the years I’ve lived in this place.”

It was unclear how much longer this heartbreaking story would have gone on if Gabriella hadn’t turned toward her granddaughter, who had appeared in the doorway.

“My fam’s here already. That’s it, go on. Enjoy your retreat.”

With a single press, she ended the call.

“Old fool. I wasted so much time because of her call.”

Limping slightly and muttering her complaints, the grandmother sat down in the armchair by the small table. Sola only then noticed the changes in the living room. On the table itself sat an already-prepared deck of cards, illuminated by peculiar candles made of multicolored glass in the shape of twisting human bodies. Beside them stood two cups with saucers, filled with ground coffee. The fragrant aroma rose with the steam from the bitter drink, making the girl’s empty stomach clench.

“Go see what’s in the fridge. Eat a good meal, bonita.”

The agate in the ring on the woman’s plump finger shimmered burgundy with every movement, including when she pulled out one of the cards. Giving it a hostile look, the woman shoved the card back in and began shuffling the entire deck.

“Come on, come on, off you go.”

The girl was already heading farther down the hallway when the door behind her flew open and nearly swept her away. The shoes neatly lined up in the entryway scattered in all directions, and her grandmother’s shawl hanging on the key rack fell to the floor.

A trembling woman burst into their house, sobbing her heart out.

“Gabby! You were right!”

Uncomprehending, Sola watched as this unwelcome guest made her way from the entrance to the spot next to her grandmother, ostentatiously puffing and dramatizing every movement. She unceremoniously sat down next to the old woman on a low chair, now flushed with anger.

“I found a red hair on his jacket! He’s definitely cheating on me!”

The grandmother barely reacted, thus taking neither side. The guest noticed this and immediately pulled several decent banknotes from her clutch.

“So, will you take a look? What am I supposed to do next?” And, puffing out her plump lips, she begged, – “Ah, how am I supposed to go on living?!”

“Calm down first, take a sip of coffee down to the grounds, and start from the very beginning.”

The grandmother glanced sideways at Sola, who was still standing there with them in the living room. That was enough for her to understand what she was hinting at — to leave them alone. But at least Sola learned how her grandmother made a living.

After her classmate’s room, her own seemed far too empty. Some changes had taken place here while she was gone. Judging by the neatly arranged clothes, the washed floor, and the missing cobwebs, someone had tidied the place up. But whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was impossible to say for sure, since for some reason the bed linen was now missing.

Soon, an open backpack landed on the bare mattress, and Sola settled down beside it. Rummaging through it, she pulled out, along with her belongings, several posters. She had accidentally torn these while trying to put them up and hid them inside, intending to throw them away later. After taking off her shoes and making herself comfortable, she pulled out her diary to make a new note.

“Plans for the summer:

Finish high school, save up some money, get as far away from everyone as possible, and start my own business.”

The limits of her dreams, it seemed, were endless, just like Stu Pitt’s chatter. But the girl had no clear idea of what exactly lay at the heart of her goal.

From a young age, Sola had learned one important lesson that she would follow for the rest of her life — without material possessions, you are nobody. Her mother repeated it to her every time her father spent their dwindling savings on gambling. And her brother said it as a side note when he woke her up early in the morning and made her skip classes so she could help him carry baskets, stuffed with groceries, to the market.

The opportunity that had appeared with her arrival in America now looked like a chance for a normal life. After a year spent here, she could either stay in that poor neighborhood forever or gets benefits from her time here. Lost in thought, she unconsciously underlined the words: “get as far away from everyone.”

Then the switched-on camera came to rest on her knees. Sola carefully examined it, pressing unfamiliar buttons along the way and checking that everything was functioning properly. After pressing something, the camera began playing back photos taken by its supposed owner. Former owner, now.

The gallery was mostly filled with landscapes. It would be a crime to call them simply spontaneous photographs, because even someone like Sola, who knew nothing about this field, recognized them as real art. The author’s signature could be seen in almost all of them: striking angles and interesting compositions, presenting ordinary objects in a fresh, original way. The color palettes and choice of locations grew more refined with every photo she scrolled through. Sola, involuntarily captivated, would have continued examining every detail of the next photograph if she hadn’t found something more interesting. In the latest photos, there were no picturesque places or random passersby. The promising photographer had found his muse. A whole spectrum of feelings was expressed through the lens of his work, eventually narrowing down to one feeling and one person. A young girl, at first glance about the same age as Sola, filled both the photographer’s thoughts and his memory card. As she flipped through another photograph of an unimaginably beautiful girl, captured sometimes in profile and sometimes in full length, Sola could feel the intimacy of every moment lived during the photoshoots. And although Sola didn’t know her, for some reason, the girl’s laughing face flashed before her as if it wasn’t the first time.

Judging by the dates displayed, the girl was getting closer to the present day. The series of photographs of the freckled girl showed no signs of stopping, turning the photographer’s slight infatuation into a genuine obsession. And when Sola reached the last photograph taken by the camera’s owner, she froze.

On the screen was the face of the young man whose face had been drawn on the poster lying opposite her.

Ethan Rivers.

*******

The viscous sludge enveloped and clung to the people who were knee‑deep in the swamp. The search team remained in the halls of the eerie forest day and night, trying to sniff out any trace, like search dogs. Apart from mud and slush, nothing had been seen for the past week, and the local police were already losing hope. There had been disappearances and unnatural deaths here before, but they had happened so rarely that no one could even remember the last incident resembling this one. Now the search had reached the part of the forest where even the most reckless thrill-seekers never wandered.

Before them stretched a black expanse of endless swamp, filled with bog water and buzzing insects. In the impenetrable darkness, getting stuck in one like this and suffocating beneath a blanket of moss would have been all too easy. One of the search party pointed the blinking beam of a handheld flashlight ahead, illuminating what he had found. In the distance stood a building, most of it submerged beneath thick, murky liquid, while the rest was overgrown with greenery. The structure resembled an old Catholic church that had stood here for several generations. But among the abandoned forest and polluted bodies of water, they were searching for any clues that might lead them to the missing children.

The town sheriff, desperately eager to retire and hand the job over to some younger, sturdier man, was forced to extend his years of service. So when the toe of his boot got caught beneath another submerged branch, he started cursing out loud.

“Goddamn punishment…”

Certain factors in the case forced him to search everywhere. Whether he found the missing people alive or their bodies made no difference to him personally; he just wanted to find them as quickly as possible. The radio clipped to his belt crackled and gave way to an indistinct human voice.

“Second line, do you copy?”

The middle-aged man hauled himself out of the swamp and brushed the slimy grass off himself. His entire uniform was smeared with wet mud, and his fingers had been rubbed raw from gripping the flashlight for so long. After a full day of patrolling, the sheriff was worn out by every ache in his aging body.

“I hear you, damn it. Quit squealing like a woman.”

“We need backup on Central Street. There’s some kind of scuffle going on.”

The sheriff gripped the radio tighter, burning with the urge to drown it.

“Those little punks probably couldn’t agree on which chick to share again.”

Leaning back, he climbed out onto solid ground again, brushing off the dirt and muck with disgust. He walked a short distance, making his way up the slope toward the road. A strange clinking beneath his boot made the man stop. He bent down to inspect what he had found, though he would have much rather left it there and gotten the hell out of there.

A silver dagger was almost completely buried in the loose soil, its sharp tip glinting faintly in the moonlight. The sheriff crouched down to pick up the find. And just as he reached for it, he noticed that the entire blade was covered in blood.

“What the?”

A sticky pool of blood, black as tar in the darkness, had already seeped into the ground, leaving smeared traces across the steel. The dagger looked like something out of that movie about ritual sacrifices the man had watched with his colleagues on one of those Friday the 13ths when they’d been forced to spend the night at the station.

“Shitheads, turn around and drag your asses over here.”

He stood up, folding his arms across his chest.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do.”