Adermoor Cove Part 2: Love Hurts - 1. Chapter 1

He opened his eyes and saw the right side of the bed was empty - Charlie was gone.

The terror was still there, as stark and raw as the smell of blood. He could still feel his father’s hand on the back of his hair, shoving his head under cold bath water; the helpless feeling of not being able to fight back. And then the feelings of guilt and fear when the smoke cleared and he found his mother sobbing over his father’s dead body and he realized he was a killer.

Charlie was gone.

Lane tried to fight his way through the panic but it was like trying to push through a cornfield. Where had that nightmare come from? His father would never have hurt him. He had been twelve when his father had died from a terrible stroke…

And Charlie was gone.

Calm down. He’s probably just in the garage working on a car.

He took in a deep breath and threw the covers back. His skin was covered in sweat. He remained still, taking in the familiar details of the bedroom. I’m in a cabin in the middle of the Missouri countryside. It’s just Charlie and me; there’s nothing out here that can hurt us.

And yet he found himself crossing the room and grabbing the Wesson 36 they kept in the top dresser drawer. It was fully loaded already. He saw his reflection in the mirror and felt his heart leap into his throat. His eyes were colorless, as if a white cloud had misted over them, but when he blinked and looked again they were the same dark blue they’d always been - just wide and startled.

He stepped out onto the front porch, dressed in the clothes he’d worn the night before, with Charlie's tweed jacket wrapped around his slender shoulders. The pond to the right of the cabin was completely still. The air was cold and misty with rain. He could sense winter on the approach. At the end of a dirt path was the garage where Charlie kept the Mustang and whatever current project he was working on. Once it had been a shed but Charlie had converted it into a garage - there wasn't anything he couldn’t take apart and build into something new, something better.

He could hear Charlie’s radio playing some classic rock tune: Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath. “Charlie?” Lane called. When Charlie didn’t answer he felt the panic threaten to engulf him.

He probably didn't hear you because he’s got the music playing...Don’t freak out.

Easier said than done. With the gun in hand, he began to creep towards the garage; the door was open. He could actually hear Ozzy’s voice now, high and mournful: “I’m going through chaaanges…”

He stepped inside. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling. A moth fluttered frantically around the bulb. Charlie’s legs, thick and hairy, poked out from underneath the skeleton of an old truck.

Lane let out a sigh of relief; he felt ridiculous - and a little guilty - for having the gun. Of course Charlie was okay. Why wouldn't he be? He set the gun on top of the metal shelf. What would he tell Charlie when he asked why he was standing there with the gun?

“Charlie,” he said.

He heard the thunk of metal and a curse. “Goddammit Lane, you scared the shit out of me.”

Lane snickered.

Charlie scooted out from underneath the truck. A welt was growing on his forehead and his hands were covered in oil. He pointed at the shelf with a grimy finger. “Hand me that rag over there, will ya? Thanks.” He rose to his feet and began wiping the grease off his hands. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early. Usually you sleep in - like a sloth.”

Lane laughed, punching him on the shoulder. “You’re a dick.”

“I’m your dick.” Charlie cupped Lane’s ass with his hands and pulled him into a kiss. He smelled pleasantly of oil and gas and rain. “I could just kiss you and play with your ass all day.”

Lane smirked. “Well we can fool around tonight but when my mom gets here we’re going to have to be on our best behavior.”

Charlie pretended to look disappointed. “Right, I almost forgot about that.”

“C’mon, we’ve been together for almost a year. I think it’s time you met her. Besides she’s only going to be here for the weekend. We can keep things copacetic for that long.” Lane brushed his hand along Charlie’s beard. “There’s more grey in your hair old man. You might want to shave a little - impress my mom.”

“You make her sound like a nun.”

“She’s a psychologist, which is about the same thing.”

                                 …

Lane was in the middle of changing into a new outfit - a black T-shirt that said YOUR DRAMA IS MY TRAUMA in red dripping letters, black jeans, and black converse - when Charlie came into the bedroom.

“Going somewhere?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to walk to the general store and pick up some things to make Eggs Benedict. It’s Mom’s favorite breakfast.”

Charlie frowned. “It’s too cold outside to be walking. Let me drive you.”

Lane grinned at him. “Thanks, but I want to walk. It’s just up the road, not even a half mile. If it will make you feel better I’ll make sure to grab my hoodie on the way out.”

Charlie sighed. Lane knew he wanted to insist on driving him to the general store, but he also knew Charlie knew it was no use. When Lane wanted to do something in a certain fashion there was little chance in talking him out of it. “Promise?”

Lane made an X-mark over his heart. “Promise.”

He pecked Charlie on the cheek and grabbed his hoodie from the coat stand by the front door. Outside, rain had begun to fall in misty sprays. The sky was slate-grey. The air smelled of rain and autumn leaves. Lane pushed his earbuds in and began to walk in the direction of the general store; he made sure to stick to the side of the road as far as he could from passing vehicles.

There was a brisk beauty to Autumn in Michigan.

The general store had once been a log cabin not unlike the one Lane and Charlie lived in. There was a phone booth and icebox outside, as well as a small patio area where people could sit if they got food from the deli inside - of course it was far too cold to sit outside.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Lane said, waving at the man behind the register.

Jeremy looked up from a tattered paperback novel. As always his long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. “What up Lane?”

“Just came to pick up a few things.” Lane squinted, trying to catch the title on the side of the spine. “Whatcha reading?”

“Stephen King - it’s the one about the killer St. Bernard.”

Lane gave him a thumbs up. “One of my favorites.”

He went over to the cooler with a shopping basket. He grabbed a carton of eggs, a package of ham, bacon, and a half gallon of milk. He went back to the register, paid for his purchases with cash, and wished Jeremy a good day.

Just as he was stepping outside, Lane’s cell phone began to ring. He went over to one of the tables and pulled it out. Mother was showing up on the screen. An odd mixture of excitement and dread passed through him. It had been almost a year since he’d seen her and he was looking forward to the weekend. He wanted her to meet Charlie, the love of his life. But he was also nervous. What would she think of him dating a man who was twenty years older than he?

And there was something else…

(“I want you to close your eyes...Take a deep breath...I’m going to count to three and when I reach three you will be asleep...”)

He pressed the phone to his ear and forced himself to sound cheerful despite the sense of nausea that had flooded over him so suddenly. “Hey, Mom...”

“Hey!” she sounded excited. “How are you?”

“Good. I’m just at the store. I had to pick up a few things.”

“Oh okay. Well I just wanted to check in and make sure we’re still on for this weekend.”

“Definitely. I’ve got the guest bedroom set up for you. I can’t wait for you to meet Charlie.”

(“When you open your eyes you will forget...”)

“I can’t wait to either.” Was there a bit of strain he heard in her voice or was that just his imagination? “Well listen I just thought I’d call and check in. I’m going to finish packing up. I’ll call you when I leave Indianapolis.”

The line went dead and Lane could only stand there for a moment, wondering what had come over him. Why was he so frightened all the sudden? Why did he feel something bad was getting ready to happen? He could see his reflection rippling on the surface of a water puddle. His eyes were staring back at him...but there was something different about the reflection...something wrong.

Against the small voice in his head that screamed for him to walk away, Lane took a step closer to get a better look.

His reflection looked back at him with eyes misted over. The pupils were completely gone.

“You need to remember what you’ve forgotten before it’s too late,” it said.

Lane jumped, letting out a yelp. With the handles of the plastic bag twisted around his fingers he broke into a run and didn’t stop until the general store was no longer in sight.