Necromancer - 3. Seeking

I finally had the leverage I needed with Simon. Friday afternoon he'd been desperate and agitated, I was there and so he confided in me. It didn't matter that he didn't know why I was taking an interest in him. Maybe he figured I was a nosey busybody. But I was glad he'd confided in me, even if it was just about the crazy idea that he'd seen Tommy Phelps, running around the forest at night as the undead.

Usually I would have never believed Simon. I didn't actually know him that well, despite my distant obsession. But I saw firsthand his fear, and it made me believe that he was sure of what he'd seen. Not only that... but with chilling clarity I recalled what I'd seen, outside my bedroom window. It wasn't a face-to-face encounter, but I could imagine why that would have Simon so shaken.

It wasn't only the two of us, talk was spreading throughout the entire school of students who'd seen Tommy Phelps's corpse running around town last night. Though it was difficult to determine who might have actually seen something and who was just bullshitting. Teens wanting to add more fuel to the fire...

I would've tracked down the Language club girls, maybe even talked to people who'd talked to the roughhousing footy guys. Listen to their accounts and decide if they were sensationalised. But it didn't occur to me until I was already driving out of school. I couldn't even get more details from Simon. After telling me what he'd seen he got up and slinked away, gripping one arm, body as tight as a cork about to pop.

Seeing as it was Friday me and my friends decided to go straight to our favourite diner on the edge of town. Lidgerwood Café. Melanie drove Jane, Erin and I drove separately and pulled into the little parking lot within thirty seconds of each other. The sun was in its winter position - too far from the Earth and too close to the horizon for only four o'clock. It rarely snowed in Scone, but it was often just a few points off freezing, which is the worst place for a thermometer to be in my opinion.

The little bell tinkled as I followed Erin's thermal pink jacket inside. The four of us went to find a booth by the frosted window wall. It was warmer in here but the girls kept their beanies on. I dropped my hoodie and ran fingers through my curly hair.

"I can't believe what people are saying." Melanie's eyes dropped to the table after the waiter left with our orders. She started fiddling idly with the pepper shaker.

"It's like living in a real-world horror flick." Jane giggled.

"Do you really think someone dressed up as Tommy and tried to scare everyone last night?" Erin asked with too casual nonchalance.

"I wouldn't put it past anyone at our school." Melanie sighed.

"You'd think after everything people would show a little more sensitivity." I agreed.

Jane raised her eyebrows at me "Seriously? People still hold vigils on Lindsey street. They leave candles there and everything. Scone is fucked."

I gave her a conceding nod – couldn't argue with that point.

"You know, maybe it wasn't a bunch of guys from our school." Erin fiddled with her beanie, speaking in an offhand way. "My parents were talking at dinner, saying it could've been some crazy newcomer."

"Could've been a relative of his." Jane chirped.

"Let's stop now." Melanie had enough, she raised both hands looking exasperated. Erin immediately closed her mouth while Jane pouted.

"Whyyy?"

"Cause I'm over it. Let's talk about something else."

Over it for now, but she was the one to bring it up. I stretched myself out, leaning my back against the glass. My friends started talking about school work while I mostly daydreamed. Anyone who was taking this seriously was trying to figure out who dug out Tommy and why. It was a lot of effort to go to, and honestly far too insidious for a prank.

I thought about Simon, who I'd managed to keep from bringing up at school today. Just talking to him had been the antidote for that. It was too crazy to think that we'd both caught glimpses of Tommy last night. What were the odds that the night after his body was dug up, I'd see something outside my bedroom window? How many witnesses were there?

Our food came in little wicker baskets on paper spotted with grease. Chips, burgers and milkshakes - strawberry for Melanie, chocolate for the rest of us (Jane always asked for extra chocolate). We ate in silence, wiped the salt off our fingers. Melanie asked Erin about Allan Derringer, a guy she'd been hanging out with. With talk of doing homework and promises of seeing that new Avengers movie and maybe shopping on the weekend, the four of us skulked our way out of the diner.

"Hey guys..." Jane began, like she'd come up with a great idea. "Why don't we go take a look at the cemetery? Just a quick look? I want to see it!"

"Jane!" Erin whipped around to scold her, a chilly gust flicking her lank hair.

"No, Jane." Melanie answered coldly. "I'm dropping you off on the way and then I'm going home."

"Fine." She pouted at her shoes.

When I got home, after doing my chores, working on my essay for Ancient History and even driving my little sister to and from her dance recital, I had nothing to do but lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I thought about putting on a movie, but could hear Dad watching another of his game shows. I thought about going over my lines for the play, but that didn't give me the motivation to sit myself up.

There were so many things I did want to do, so many people I wanted to talk to about Tommy. Or just talk to, in general. Thinking about Simon I turned over in bed and frowned into my pillow. My guts squirmed – the pleasant brooding of infatuation was addictive. Now that it was the weekend it was too late to do anything. I had a long two days of nothing ahead of me. I felt strung, like I needed some more excitement to keep me going. Simon and I had both seen something, even if it was just a trick of the mind. What could I do that'd be exciting?

I suddenly sat straight up.

One phone-call later my energy was back. I went downstairs to ask Mum's permission to do a sleepover at Melanie's, just an excuse to explain my absence. She was in her office with the sewing machine, surrounded by wreaths of colourful fabric. After reiterating again that chores had been done I was allowed. Then I snuck around the back and snagged two torches from the garage – the bulky security ones we keep in reserve for a black-out. I piled them in the back of my car and drove to Jane's house.

"Oh my God! This is so exciting!" she combed her loose curls behind her ears, diving into the passenger seat beside me not ten seconds after I pulled up into her driveway.

"Remember. You can't tell Melanie or Erin about this." I reminded her for the second time.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Melanie and Erin would be furious; I could picture the fury on their faces. They'd pretend it was because they were disappointed in us. Really they'd be angry that they weren't involved. If I'd asked them they'd be angry too though. It was the principle of things.

"I can't believe we're going to drive around looking for Tommy Phelps!" Jane squealed as I backed out onto the road. Her excitement was making me feel a little guilty, and a little disgusted at myself.

"Shh. We're just going to drive around and see how many kids from our school are still out and about. By the sound of things last night wasn't going to be a one-off."

"You think there are going to be more kids out tonight?"

"Maybe. It's Friday night. The populars don't need any better reason than that to get drunk and walk around town at night."

I turned onto the main road, away from the happily-gardened retirement homes on Jane's street.

"...can we drive to the cemetery?"

"Fine." I agreed with a sigh.

"Yesss!"

There weren't many cars out. It was going on ten at night, I peered through my windshield carefully for any sign of cops. Considering everything I bet the local police department would be happy to give out fines for loitering. I crept the car toward the graveyard and surprisingly... found nobody. Distant streetlights made the police tape around Tommy's grave barely visible. The hole he dug out from was a black mound in the darkness.

"Wow..." Jane said between shivers. She didn't have her licence yet, I wondered how she'd react if she knew I'd already seen it in broad daylight. Night time did make it spookier. "No wonder nobody's around! It's zero degrees outside!" she pointed to my radio display. "Doesn't this heater get any hotter?"

"Nope."

"Christ." She snuggled into her hoodie.

"I think nobody's around because it's too early. I'd say give it till midnight and this place will be crawling with underage drunks. That is, if the police aren't doing their job."

"Why would police watch the cemetery at night? They got to sleep too. We don't exactly have a big department in Scone."

I peered out into the darkness "Well, if you're right there'll be jocks guzzling and spewing all over the place. I guarantee it."

I let the car idle while we sat and took in the view for a few minutes. The dry rasping of my car's pathetic heating occupied the silence. Then Jane turned to me, eying the torches in the back.

"Are we going to look through the forest?"

"Well..." I hesitated "We shouldn't."

"We should totally check out the forest! We don't have to go far."

"Jane you said yourself how freezing it is."

"Come on, Peter! Don't be a wuss!"

I shifted the gear stick and turned us around.

"I'm not a wuss..." I grumbled. Another moment of silence passed. "Your parents said it's okay for me to sleep over right?"

"Yeah, yeah." She waved a dismissive hand. "But we're gonna stay out late, right?"

"Sure thing. I don't feel like sleeping tonight anyway."

There was a twenty-four/seven convenience store attached to one of Scone's twin petrol stations. I wondered if nightshift catered specifically for my drunken schoolmates. I drove there after a while and bought a heap of crap: soda to keep us awake, sour lollies and redskins. Jane yanked the sticky candy apart with her teeth, then picked bits out with her fingers as I drove. She kept her eyes out the window, 'oohing' and pointing when she thought she'd seen something, only to realise a second later it was something else.

"Sure are a lot of possums around at night." She commented. A lame excuse after shaking my arm and almost causing us to crash.

When midnight struck I parked the car on gravel by one of Scone's various parks. The long grass swayed eerily in the breeze. Drunken streetwalkers could be heard from several blocks over. This park seemed so far respected. I knew that wasn't always the case. Three years ago I remembered being here with my family and finding an old condom stuck beneath the yellow slide, next to the crawl tunnel. An interesting spot for a midnight hook-up.

I helped myself to the lollies and let Jane ramble about the rumours as much as she wanted. I could tell she was disappointed we hadn't seen anything yet. I wasn't going to throw in the towel, I was prepared to stay up all night. Lifting the litre soda bottle to my mouth I set it down and wiped my chin, a burp forced its way out my throat. I guess Tommy Phelps was like a myth – impossible to find if you went looking for him, but when you least expected it...

There was movement up ahead. I stopped mid-chew of a sour strip, Jane grabbed my shoulder.

"Peter...!"

"...it's just a bunch of kids." A group of teenagers, younger than us, crept out from the laneway and took looping steps toward the swings. "Let's get out of here." I put the car in reverse, then rolled off the gravel and back onto the main road.

Half-an-hour later we were driving down some backstreet when a solitary figure caught my eye. Pacing along the street with hands in his jacket pockets.

"Who is that?" Jane leaned forward in her seat, quick to jump to conclusions "Does that look like Tommy?"

"No..." I recognized him as we got closer. "It's Simon." We both stared at each other for a moment. I slowed down several paces behind him and pulled the car over to the curb. "I'm gonna go talk to him." I said while unfastening my seatbelt.

"Seriously?"

I didn't answer Jane. I switched the car off and reached back for a torch, it was so dark I could only see the outline of his thin body and matted hair. Then I jumped out onto the street, into the biting cold, and jogged after him.

"Simon! Hey Simon!" I saw him whip around like he did before. Beside us, away from the road was a series of leaveless trees and ratty shrubbery. They sloped down into misty forest. The white beam of my torch was pointed at the ground. As I approached I could see his eyes narrowed cautiously, so I shone the light on myself so he'd know it was me.

"Oh... it's you."

"Funny seeing you here. I can't believe you came out again." I paused in thought and he just stood there, watching me. "...are you looking for him?"

"That's not..." he faltered, his anger slipped through his fingers. He turned over his hand and I realised he was holding something. "I walk around at night because I get insomnia."

"Were you looking for him tonight?" I asked gently. He didn't answer, instead he showed me what he was holding.

"I found this with a bunch of other candles just sitting on the side of the road."

"Oh. On Lindsey street."

"It was McDowell Road."

"Ah- yeah, but everyone at school calls it Lindsey street." I could feel the confusion on his darkened face. "Last year, Lindsey Barrow was raped on this street by some guy on the football team. He's in juvie now and she changed schools, but kids still put up vigils. For her virginity. And everyone calls it Lindsey street."

"Really?"

"I don't think she was a virgin when it happened. But that's the running gag."

"That's disgusting."

"Yeah..." I looked at the candle he was holding and so did he.

"...It's got a pentagram on it." Simon murmured. I leaned forward and peered through the dark. It was a purple candle, possibly scented, and there on the side someone had scratched the symbol into the wax.

"Huh..."

"I wonder if it was used for something else... before someone left it here. Did you know there's a Pagan club at school?"

"There's all sorts of clubs at our school."

Simon looked down at the candle and turned it over in his hand "...and he's not the first. Angela Preaker went missing over the summer holidays, before I came here. They have fliers with her face on them stuck to telegraph poles on main street."

"Yeah..." I gave him a half-nod. "She used to sit at your desk at rollcall..."

"Nobody told me that." His face crumpled. Not disgust, more like betrayal.

"Well I don't think you talk to a lot of people." I told him reasonably. He didn't say anything. The nearest streetlight lit up his profile from behind, white against blackness. "...do you want to catch a ride with me and my friend? We were looking for Tommy too. You should come with us," I tried to make my voice more encouraging than pleading "You've got to be freezing out here without a hat." Our misty breaths glowed under the headlights behind me.

"Alright." Simon conceded. It really was freezing outside.

"Awesome!" I turned and led him towards my car.