Page 2 of Not This Night

Instead of the dull ringing she hoped to hear, there was no response as the phone’s signal indicator pulsed between one bar and zero. "Come on, come on," she whispered, as if urging the signal bars to climb.

Nothing. Not a single bar. She tapped the screen, willing it to life. But the digital silence was unyielding—the desert indifferent to her urgency.

"Damn it." Heather glanced over her shoulder, the isolation pressing in. Every shadow seemed sinister now, every whisper of wind a threat. She shoved the phone into her pocket and retreated back to her waiting vehicle. There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation, but she’d wait to hear it tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to be away from here.

Heather's fingers curled around the door handle, the metal cool and unyielding. She yanked it open and slid inside, the familiar scent of leather and dust a small comfort as she slammed the door closed behind her.

Tossing her phone on the passenger seat, the device mocked her with its lifeless screen, winking out as she jammed the key into the ignition.

Click.

"Come on, baby, come on." A twist of her wrist, a silent prayer for the comforting roar of the engine.

Click-click.

Heather’s heart sank. “No. No, no, no. Start!" Desperation laced her voice. But the car remained stubbornly silent.

"Damn it," she spat out, pounding the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Her chest tightened, breaths quickening as the reality set in—she was truly alone.

"Okay, Heather, think." She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the wheel.

Heather's breathing turned shallow and rapid, and she took a shuddering gulp as she tried to steady herself. Maybe she could get help at the old building? Would there be a phone line connected? She looked up again.

The badger was gone.

She went still, blinking.

The badger was no longer there… where the hell had it gone? It had been dead. She was certain it was dead. What was going on?

Eyes wide, she scanned the desolate landscape through the car windows. The last rays of sunlight bled away, leaving a canvas of shadows. No lights, no houses, just the vast, unending desert stretching out in all directions.

"Get a grip," she whispered, the sound feeble against the silence that pressed in on her. Every rustle outside sounded like footsteps. Every whisper of wind seemed like a hushed conversation just beyond her reach. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, a relentless drumbeat to the rhythm of rising panic.

"Think, damn it!" She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened. But with each passing second, her tactical mind, usually so sharp, felt dulled by fear. Someone could be out there, watching, waiting.

"Enough!" She couldn't cower in a dead car. She needed to act, to move.

The client was still coming, most likely, and she was jumping at shadows. Just an injured animal she thought was dead and a bit of car trouble—she’d laugh about how nervous she felt in the morning. The badger… she was probably wrong about the knife marks. What was more likely? An animal attack. It had likely dragged itself away, playing possum when she’d approached. Did badgers play dead? Maybe. Yes, the more she thought about it, Heather was sure that would be it.

With a shaky exhale, Heather forced her door open, stepping into the chill of twilight. The ground felt unsteady beneath her heels. She cursed silently for choosing fashion over practicality. She hadn’t accounted for the gravel walk into the building.

"Hello?" she called again, her voice carrying a bit more strength now.

She pivoted slowly, eyes straining to pierce the dusk. Every slight movement was a potential threat—a bush, a rock, a... person? No, just a cactus. She took a tentative step forward, then another, distancing herself from the false sanctuary of her car and moving towards the wooden house.

And then sound.

She stiffened, staring, certain she was seeing things.

A shape coalesced from the obsidian backdrop, solidifying into the form of a person. A chill skittered down Heather's spine as the figure edged closer, each step deliberate, unwavering.

The person was coming from the direction of the house. Her client?

“H-hello?”

They were supposed to wait to be let in. She frowned, but something felt off and robbed her of the frown, replacing it with unease. The desert's stark moonlight draped over the stranger, casting elongated shadows that seemed to reach for her.

Heather's pulse hammered in her throat. She took a sharp breath, her step back crunching on the dry earth, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. Her mind twisted with scenarios, none of them good.

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