Page 33 of Beneath the Desert Bloom
And then, very quietly, almost smiling, “So come back.”
A warm breeze was her response. She smiled, taking in the fresh air as she closed up.
They didn’t go back outside.
Not after that.
Nora came inside and locked both the front and back doors. Lauren hadn’t said much while Nora changed into her pajamas and handed her a beer from the fridge. Her expression had been tight, uncertain. But once they settled on the couch, Miso curled in a tight, twitchy ball between them, some of the tension drained out of her shoulders.
Lauren stared at the beer in her hand for a moment, then glanced over at Nora.
“You’re sure there aren’t like… coyotes that size out here?”
Nora shook her head. “Relax. Just your standard desert wildlife. Possibly bipedal. Possibly shredded.”
Lauren snorted. “Okay, so either it was a hallucination, or I saw the actual Jersey Devil’s desert cousin.”
“I vote for high desert cryptid.”
Lauren laughed, loud and full-bodied, like she’d been holding her breath and finally let it go. “God. Maybe I was just high. Jesus, that would be so embarrassing.”
“You were definitely high.” Nora grinned. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t see something.”
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Vale. What are you implying?”
“I’m just saying,” Nora said, sipping her drink, “we’re in the middle of nowhere, in a haunted house with questionable plumbing, surrounded by things that go bump in the sagebrush. What better place for your brain to start making up stories?”
Lauren opened her mouth, then narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Are you trying to gaslight me?”
“Only a little.”
Lauren shook her head and set her beer down. “You are such an asshole.”
They both laughed. The sound filled the little living room, echoed off the bookshelves and weathered wood.
Miso let out a low grumble but didn’t move.
Nora leaned back and let her gaze drift to the old entertainment shelf. She squinted.
“Wait… is that a VHS copy ofThe Hills Have Eyes?”
Lauren twisted around to look, then shrieked. “No way. Shut up.”
“Swear to God.”
“Please tell me you have a working VCR.”
“I mean… maybe?”
Five minutes later, Nora had pulled the clunky player from a bottom shelf and, miraculously, got it to whir to life. She popped the tape in and hit play. The grainy title screen lit up the room in shades of dusty orange and blood red.
Lauren curled up with a blanket and the dog. Nora dimmed the lights.
They both stared at the flickering screen for a few moments in silence.
“Just promise me,” Lauren said, “if any weird dudes start growling in the rocks outside again tonight, you’ll actually listen to me.”
Nora raised her beer. “Girl Scout honor.”
