Page 2 of Curse

“Emily, this doesn’t make any sense. If Mikey is in trouble, call Franco. He can help. He’s an asshole, but he might be able to do something.”

“No, Siena.” Emily’s voice is firm. “You can’t involve Franco. He’ll only make it worse.”

“But why? He’s family, Em. He can at least make some calls, see if there’s a safe place for you to stay nearby so you don’t have to disappear.” I’m desperate and insistent, frustrated.

“Trust me, Siena. I can’t explain now. Please, promise me you won’t involve Franco. Please,” Emily pleads.

I hesitate, uncertainty gnawing at me. There must be a way to manage whatever is happening and protect her. “Fine, but you need to tell me everything, Em. I can’t help if I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

Emily sighs heavily. ”I can’t say anymore, Siena, and I don’t need your help. I shouldn’t even be calling. I don’t want to put you or anyone else in danger.”

“Danger? What are you talking about, Emily? This is crazy!” My head is spinning, and I feel helpless. I don’t know what to do. I only know I don’t want Emily to hang up the phone.

“Trust me, Si, it’s better if you don’t have details. If you see Mom, if it feels right, ask her to fix this.” The urgency in her voice is palpable. “Also, I’m sending you something—”

Noise explodes from the speaker, and I almost drop the phone. “Em, what was that?”

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Emily is yelling, but she sounds far away.

“Emily!”

Another deafening explosion blasts from the phone, and a roar of chaos fills my tiny house. Panic surges through me as I strain to hear any trace of Emily amid the rush of noise.

I can’t make out anything.

The line crackles loudly and goes dead, leaving me staring at my phone in disbelief. I redial, heart pounding, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I try again and again and again. And again.

Straight to voicemail every time.

2

Siena

Igrip the worn steering wheel of my beat-up Subaru Impreza, pressing my bare foot to the gas pedal.

The wind whipping through the open window tosses my hair—a necessity because of the broken air conditioner—and the rhythmic hum of the tires on the road is a somber bass line to my thoughts. Dread pulls at me from one direction, desperate hope from another, as I pray that somehow Emily survived whatever happened on that plane.

My car, two decades old at least, wheezes with every acceleration, a leftover from a time when CDs were still a thing. It smells musty, like stale fast food mixed with cigarette smoke and wet dog. Though I’ll eat the hell out of some fast food, I don’t smoke, nor do I have a dog, which makes the smell even worse.

I fumble with the radio dial, hoping for any information on the fate of Emily’s plane, settling on a local news station.

After the phone call with Emily, I hadn’t wasted a second. I didn’t pack anything to bring with me, barely remembering to grab my handbag as I ran out the door.

Still wearing the same clothes I wore to work, I drove through the night toward the last place my sister had mentioned: Georgia.

It’s now morning, and the sun’s heat is rapidly turning the cool, dew-heavy air into a sauna. I just crossed over into South Carolina, and outside the car window, the landscape rips by me in a blur of muted colors.

The road stretches out in front of me endlessly. I have only my headache to keep me company, that and the constant replaying of my last conversation with Emily.

Why is Emily in trouble, so much trouble that she had to disappear? Why was she so adamant that I can’t reach out to Franco?

And worst of all, the thousand questions about the last few moments of the call: were the loud noises actually explosions or something else? Did the plane crash? Is there any hope that Emily managed to survive whatever happened?

My phone is in a plastic holder suctioned to the dashboard, letting me know where to go and occasionally annoying the shit out of me with recalculations. How am I supposed to know where I’m going if the goddamn GPS doesn’t have a fucking clue?

I’m headed to Georgia, but I also want to stay off the main highways, just in case what Emily said is true and the people who are trying to kill her husband, Mikey, are following me in hopes of finding him through Emily and Emily through me. Whoever ‘they’ are.

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