Page 264 of Heart So Hollow

I’m walking along the side of the road next to a dense forest. It’s early in the day, when the sun is just showing over the trees. When I look to my left, I realize Evie is walking next to me. She’s wearing the same clothes she had on the last time I saw her—neon yellow running shorts, grey tank top, Adidas sneakers, and her fiery red hair is pulled back in a long braid hanging from the crown of her head.

She keeps the same leisurely pace as me, with this peaceful, half-smile on her face while she enjoys the sounds of the birds and the wind rushing through the trees. She doesn’t say anything at first, only tilts her head back and closes her eyes to feel the wind on her face.

I keep trying to ask her the same question, over and over, but my mouth won’t open and my throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. All I can do is shout in my head. Evie keeps glancing over at me with the same shit-eating grin she used to get whenever I’d get in trouble, but not her.

Like she knows something I don’t.

Eventually, she slows and then comes to a stop. We’re still on the long stretch of road, and when I follow Evie’s gaze, I see Grumpy’s, the old motorcycle shop decaying into the cracked asphalt lot on Grisham Road. The same place I almost beat the shit out of Bowen and we all ran from the cops.

I’m still trying to speak and, finally, when it feels like my chest is about to split open, my voice bursts out of my mouth with a gasp, “Where are you?”

Evie turns to me and a relieved smile spreads across her face, “I’ll show you.”

Her blue eyes, deeply luminous now, lead me across the pavement to a wall of honeysuckle and birches just beyond the white line denoting the shoulder of the road. The longer I stare at the trees, a break in the brush materializes. There’s a clear path down into the forest, camouflaged from a distance. I follow Evie down the hill, through a carpet of dead leaves. I make it two steps from the bottom when something bright red catches my eye, standing out against the patchy dirt and grass like a flashing road cone.

When I glance back up, Evie’s giving me the same excited look as when we’d play Hot and Cold when we were kids.

Warmer…warmer…

I continue following her through the trees, the subtle path disappearing into nothing the further we go. Finally, the dense brush reveals a clearing where the trees are thinner and the terrain dips down into a shallow creek in the distance. She lets me pass her and as soon as I step out of the brambles and honeysuckle, I come to a halt, staring straight ahead.

For some reason, I know what I’m looking at carries great significance. This is why I’m here.

“Hotter!” Evie comes flying past my shoulder through the brush, “Burning up, Col!” she calls into the air as she bounds into the clearing ahead of me, her crimson braid swinging back and forth with each stride.

I wake up with a rush of adrenaline and bolt out of bed, so excited I’m about to bust out of my skin. But once I’m upright and I play the dream over in my head, I have to face a sobering realization; if Evie’s answering me somewhere in my subconscious, then she’s probably not here anymore.

But that part doesn’t seem real yet. I can’t process it because there are more important things to do.

My phone says it’s 7:06, and I call Mason, waking him up, “I had a dream. I know where Evie is.” I don’t bother waiting for a response before ending the call and driving straight to his house.

As soon as I stop my Civic in the middle of the crumbling lot at Grumpy’s, I feel a jolt run up my neck and my arms explode into goosebumps. I can see it in my mind’s eye, and I know we’re in the right spot. Mason follows me to the middle of the deserted lot and watches me search until I find the path hidden in plain sight.

“It’s over here.”

He follows me across the road to the woods, “Didn’t they already search over here?”

“No,” I sweep the wall of honeysuckle aside as we descend down the hill, past a NO TRESPASSING sign nailed to an ancient poplar, “This is private property. It’s not the park anymore.”

As soon as I get to the bottom of the hill, my eyes sweep across the moss-laden dirt and I see it—a bright red flash against the earth. It’s a shredded pair of red lace underwear. I crouch down and pick it up between my thumb and forefinger.

“Shit…” Mason murmurs with dread from behind my shoulder.

My heart starts pounding. But I’m not surprised because I’ve seen them before—before I knew what they were. I drop them where I found them and rise, continuing into the forest. After slogging through the thick brush, the trees finally thin out and we stumble into the clearing. Everything is the same, down to the patches of moss and grass undulating over the bare earth.

And then I see it. It’s a culvert, five feet across, rust running halfway up the inside walls, with the same shallow creek running through it. The water can’t be more than a foot deep. A surge of adrenaline tears through me and I take off running toward the creek.

“Col!” Mason’s voice echoes behind me, but it’s nothing more than the buzz of a gnat in my ear.

I fly off the edge of the ditch and land with a splash in the cold water. When I stand up, I realize the water only comes up to my shins. As soon as I turn, I see the pitch-black opening of a corrugated steel pipe staring back at me, like the maw of some ancient monster. Mason is right behind me, hopping into the murky water with a splash. Once I reach the opening of the pipe, I brace one arm on the top edge and duck inside, trying to make out anything in the dark.

“I need a light,” I say over my shoulder.

Crouching down, on my hands and knees, I start crawling into the pipe before Mason can even reach for his phone. Broken branches and clumps of soggy brush bump my arms and legs and my sneakers scrape through silt and pebbles the further I go. Finally, the light from his phone flickers over the metal wall and I can vaguely see where I’m going. Creek water soaks into my jeans, seeping up my legs until they’re plastered to my skin. I move to one side so Mason’s light can shine further into the darkness. And when it does, I find what I’m looking for.

I’m not sure what I’m seeing at first. There’s a jam on the left side of the pipe, choked with branches and debris. I reach for the biggest one, a thick, leaf-laden limb tangled halfway beneath the water, and rip it loose along with another clump of soggy leaves. And when I do, I see an elbow jutting out of the dam, Mason’s light dancing across its sickly greenish grey skin—Evie’s skin…

I let out a long guttural howl that echoes through the pipe and start frantically tearing at the jam. Clawing the brush loose, I wrap my arms around whatever I can and start pulling. It’s her body, hanging limp and wet over my arm as I thrash around, scrambling backward out of the pipe with a barrage of screams and curses. As soon as I’m close enough, Mason grabs the waist of my jeans and start dragging me the rest of the way out of the pipe.

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