Shadow's Turning- Part 3

***Sorry for the delay- was busier than expected.  Got diverted writing paranormal erotic shorts under the pseudonym Dawn Wilder, in case anyone's interested in checking those out.  Hopefully, I can stay on track this time :).***

I woke up a few hours later, feeling only slightly better.

Forcing myself off the bed, I staggered into the bathroom to take a shower.  Feeling somewhat more revived, I squeezed myself into the only clean pair of jeans I had left.  They felt like they were strangling the blood flow to my lower half, which was why I only wore them when nothing else was left.

I pulled on a t-shirt and shoved my feet into sneakers, grabbing my keys and pushing some cash into one of the pockets.

Locking the door behind me, I walked over to the elevator.  I heard a door shut in the hall as I waited, and then the sound of shuffling feet.

Mrs. Hendrix turned the corner, using her walker for support.

“Hello, Sara.  Where were you last night?”

Mrs. Hendrix was a world-class busy body, though she tried to hide it under a sweet old lady façade.  She certainly looked the part.  Her pretty dark skin was only lightly lined, her snowy white hair always perfectly set in the curled cap that was so popular after a certain age.  She liked to dress in velour jogging suits tending toward pastel colors.

Today’s was a pale yellow.

“Out,” I said with a strained smile, urging the elevator to hurry up.  I wish I’d taken the stairs.

She squinted at me suspiciously before smiling at me sweetly.  The smile didn’t match the greedy look in her eyes.  She probably smelled some gossip she could impart to her equally nosy group of friends.

The ding of the elevator’s arrival was a welcome distraction, though now I had to be stuck in an enclosed space with her.

I held the doors open as she slowly inched in next to me.  They closed smoothly behind her.

“Would you mind taking my trash out tonight, dear?”

I was tempted to say no because it was probably just another opportunity for her to pump me for some information, but…

“Sure,” I said resignedly.

Luckily, her daughter was waiting in the lobby so I was able to escape her presence.  I swallowed the urge to ask her why she never took out her mother’s garbage.

I had more important things to worry about at the moment.

I entered the bright light of the day, squinting.  Was the sun brighter?  I fumbled for the sunglasses I habitually slipped into the collar of my shirt.  Better.  At least my eyes didn’t want to water anymore.

The same streets that had seemed so ominous by the fading light of day were welcoming and busy.  Everyone was focused on what they had to get done before sundown, but fear wasn’t really a big issue.

We’d become somewhat desensitized to it.

I didn’t know anything different, though my grandparents’ generation grew up in a time when the biggest threat they feared in the dark was a mugging.

Then things changed.

It happened gradually.  Nobody really knew why.

Missing persons reports began increasing.  At first, the change was subtle, so people thought maybe there was a new serial killer on the loose.  Police warned citizens to keep their doors and windows locked.  To avoid going out at night alone.

But the numbers kept climbing.  And the problem wasn’t localized.  Reports of a spike in unsolved missing person cases started coming in from around the world.

And then people started seeing things.

Eyes in the shadows.  People vanishing in full view of others.  Panic set in.

The police and the military tried to fight back, but whole squadrons would go missing in one night.  Roughly half of the human population was wiped out in a matter of months before it was decided we needed to move to defense.

The streets became deserted at night.  Whatever they were, they were nocturnal.

That’s when people started going missing from their homes.

Every form of religious symbol was used to try to protect ourselves.  None of them worked.

Until some did.

Homemade symbols created by a small segment of the population seemed to actually work.  There was a hereditary aspect to it, judging by the fact that it tended to run in families.  And those few soon figured out that it wasn’t the type of symbol that mattered, just that the intent was there during its creation.

And the wooden ones seemed to work best.

Charms became a booming business.

Everyone had them.  Some of the extremely wealthy even had entire houses armored with massive charms.  The price of quality wood sky-rocketed.

I looked up to see I’d crossed over into the Charm District.

It didn’t seem like much from the outside, the little red awning and crowded windows not exactly high-class.  But Mindy was one of the best.  She would probably be able to move into the higher-end area a couple of blocks down in another year or so.

At which point I probably wouldn’t be able to afford her anymore.

The little bell tinkled merrily as I let the door swing shut behind me.

The interior was dimly lit and crowded, every available shelf and wall covered in merchandize.  The pleasant scent of freshly carved and sanded wood saturated the air.

“Just a minute!”

I wandered over to take a closer look at a charm carved into the shape of what appeared to be a teddy bear.  I caught myself right before I was about to touch that deceptively soft looking belly.

“Sara!  How are you?  Looking for anything in particular?”

Mindy was maybe five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet.  She was an interesting mix of Asian and Nordic ancestry, her hair gleaming white blonde and a distinct Japanese slant to her eyes.  She also had more energy than any one person should.

Just watching her flit around was exhausting.

“Hey, Mindy.  I was actually wondering if I could talk to you in the back,” I asked, looking around nervously.  The store looked empty, but I couldn’t see the whole interior at a glance.  There were dozens of nooks and crannies people could hide in.

“In the back?”  Mindy hesitated, her usually animated face going still as she gave me a long look.

I could see her weighing the possibilities.  I’d never asked for a private meeting before, and I knew I hadn’t disguised my nervousness well.

The fact that I looked like I’d pulled an all-nighter didn’t help either.

“Follow me.”

She turned and led me to the back store room/office space.  She dragged a heavy doorstop away so that she could shut the door behind us.

Gesturing to the beat up chair across from the dented metal desk, she settled into the patched up leather swivel chair on the other side.  Leaning forward, she folded her arms on the dull surface, giving me an expectant look.

“Do you have any charms nearby?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow, but leaned down to pulled open one of the desk drawers with a grating squeal.  Rummaging around, she sat back up with a small sunburst pendant hanging from a chain.  Setting it down with a light clinking sound, she pushed it over to me.

I took a fortifying breath, feeling her curious gaze focused on me.  Reaching out, I settled my hand palm-down directly on top of the charm.

At first, nothing happened.  I almost breathed a sigh of relief.  Maybe it had been a freak occurrence…

Flash.

The charm lit up under my hand, bright white light shining out between my fingers.

With a startled yelp, I yanked my hand back, waving it around in an attempt to cool it off.  Turning it around, I saw that I now had a little sunburst burn mark next to the star in my palm.

“What the fuck!?”

Mindy leaped up from her chair, sending it rolling back to crash into a filing cabinet with a rattling bang.  She backed up into the corner, her hands held up in front of her.

Awkward.

I held my hands up too, and leaned back in the chair.

“I’m not going to hurt you.  Look, I just need help.  Obviously, I have a…problem.”

When I did nothing else, she slowly lowered her hands, but didn’t sit back down.

“What…how did it…happen?” she asked shakily.

“I didn’t make curfew last night.”

She stared at me dumbly.

“You…were outside…after sunset.”  She seemed to be weighing the words as they were leaving her mouth.  Like even she couldn’t believe what she was saying.

I nodded.

“You should be dead.”

I nodded again.

“Do you remember what happened?”

I had thought about it hard, but could only summon a vague memory of footsteps.

She read the denial on my face.

She reached up to rub her forehead with one of her hands, the other arm folded across her stomach.

“I don’t know anything about this.  You should turn yourself in.  Maybe they could learn something from you.  Maybe help you.”

She lowered her hand and gave me an assessing look that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.  The authorities were a last resort for me.  Once I went to them, I could kiss my life goodbye.

Nobody would fault them for taking me into custody.

Indefinitely.

“But I do know someone who might know a little more.”

She stepped closer to the desk with obvious reluctance.  Flipping open a notepad, she scribbled something on the page before ripping it out and setting it on the desk.

Retreating back to the corner, she watched expectantly.

I slid the paper toward me on the desk, moving slowly so as not to spook her.  She’d written a name and an address.

Simon Birch.

The address was a few blocks from here, near the park.

“Tell him I sent you.”

I nodded.  Standing up, I shoved the scrap of paper into my pocket.  Mindy made no move to come any closer, her wary eyes locked on me.

I didn’t want to do this, but I needed some assurance she wouldn’t run out and report me as soon as I left.

Hell, this Birch guy could be a trap.

“It would be…unfortunate…if I came to the attention of the police when the only person who knows about this is you.  It would be even more unfortunate if they found out about some unregistered property.”

It was an educated guess.  It cost money to register trees, not to mention the property tax that applied to them.  Mindy was always well stocked with charms and pieces of wood, when many others who set up shop at around the same time as her were struggling.

Having a cache of unregistered, untaxed trees would explain the difference.

A quick flash of anger lit her face, confirming my suspicions.  I waited for her to nod stiffly before I turned to leave.

This bridge was definitely burned.  I’d basically doused it in gasoline and lit a match.