Adermoor Cove: Atonement - 3. Chapter 3

Moira and Lane spoke little in the car. The mutual tension they felt was palpable as Lane drove down Donovan Road, towards a mission that could potentially be dangerous. Moira, more than anything, dreaded seeing Ramona's house. Even though it had only been a week and a half since the last time she'd seen it, it felt longer. More like a decade.

She tried to distract herself, think of other things. Like how Lane had gotten this car for one, but Moira resisted the urge to ask. So she watched the passing of trees, the way the sunlight made the pine needle seem to glow. Trying to trick herself into feeling calm but failing. At last the line of trees ended and Lane slowed, turning into the driveway.

Gravel popped beneath the tires and the car bounced slightly. Moira forced herself to look at the house and the painful events that had transpired there. Once she had seen this as a place of refuge, the one place she felt she belonged on this island. Now it was a haunted house. She didn't know if she could ever bring herself to step inside it again.

Beside the house, stretching on for miles, was the woods.

Once Lane pulled the key from the ignition of the Mustang the engine went silent. Moira was vaguely aware of the primal song of the locusts. It wouldn't be long now before that song ceased. Looking at the sinister edifice of the old Sterling home, Moira slowly got out of the car. It was almost impossible to look away. Lane was already in the back of the trunk, digging around.

"Here," he said, holding something out to her.

Almost relieved, Moira turned her back to the house and took the bottle of water he had offered her. It was warm but she knew it was important they stay hydrated on the hike. Lane had just slid his skinny little arms through the straps of a backpack; his beloved leather jacket was folded neatly on top a stack of CDs. Now he grabbed a gun, a small Wesson, and was loading the chamber with bullets.

"Two out of three of the times I've come into these woods something bad has happened," Lane said to her as if he needed to explain. "This time I want to be prepared."

Moira briefly wondered if the shotgun was still in the house. Strangely the idea of going inside the house to search for it was far more frightening than venturing into the woods to search for the island's source of evil. I'm a bad shot, Moira thought. It's not like it would do us much good in that case.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Trying to appear confident, she smiled and nodded.

With the house at their backs, they began to walk towards the trees.

They'd been walking for the better part of an hour, only stopping to drink their water or rejuvenate by eating a small snack - Lane had brought several granola bars with him in his backpack. Moira was reminded why she was not a nature girl, no matter how hard she might try to be; not like Ramona had been.

Sweat trickled down her forehead and stained the front of her T-shirt. She wish she'd thought to change into a long sleeved T-shirt. She took delight in knowing there wouldn't be anyone around to bother them with autumn coming. This also reminded her if Ramona was still out here, still alive, she just might freeze to death.

Lane led the way without preamble, stopping often to let her catch up. He moved with the speed and grace of natural athleticism. Or maybe it only seemed that way to her. She could tell, mainly for her benefit, the younger man was exerting a false sense of calm; but she could tell by the way he kept glancing around nervously he wanted to get this over with. He’s frightened, Moira thought. He’s honest to God frightened. It was strange to see someone else react to fear, an emotion she had felt nonstop since the day she encountered the bear on Donovan Road. It also made the recounting of his own experience all the more believable. The fear was something they shared.

She found herself respecting Lane more and more because he had let her come along instead of questioning her ability to make decisions for herself the way she was sure Carlos would have done.

After a while she could hear the steady roar of the ocean and the hungry cry of seagulls, which meant they had reached the edge of the island. They broke through the last of the trees, standing at a shelf of rock and grass which ended in a cliff after several feet. The sight before her was breathtaking. In the distance, a dozen miles out or so, she could see a sailboat cutting lazily through the water, the sail rippling in the wind.

“Well,” Lane said with false cheer, “if it was here this is where it would be. But of course it isn’t and now I feel like a fucking nut.” He smiled at her apologetically, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I still believe you.” And this was the truth.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and then falling. “You do?”

“I do.”

Another shaky inhale, another exhale. “Okay. We should head back. I don’t want to be here when it gets dark.” He turned so he was facing her directly. “I’m not giving up on her though. We can come back here and keep looking.”

She smiled at him, grateful. He continued to offer her hope when everyone else had only given her doubt and pity. She felt less like a crazy woman.

It was after seven o’clock when Lane dropped her off at her apartment. Before she got out of the car, Moira hugged him. Lane chuckled nervously, patting her back, looking surprised that anyone would want to take the risk of doing such a thing, as if being touched would somehow poison them.

That night she couldn't sleep. It had begun to storm just before midnight; while Moira normally found storms to be comforting this sounded like grenades going off in the sky. Every crack of thunder seemed to reverberate through her body, making her want to jump out of her skin. Finally when she did fall asleep, it only felt it was for an instant before she woke.

It was still storming. The storm of the century, she thought. She could see the red glow of the alarm clock across from where she was curled up on the futon. It was exactly three o' clock in the morning. Blinding blue light splashed across the wall, there one second, gone just as fast.

And she could hear something else.

It was coming from inside the bathroom.

With the murky feeling of being in a dream, unable to control body or mind, Moira climbed out of bed and walked the ten feet to the bathroom door. She stopped just outside the doorway, peering in. The apartment oddly felt very hot, like on a humid summer day.

The dark outline of a woman sat on top of the toilet. She sobbed helplessly, her face buried in her hands. The sound coming out of her throat, a terrible keening, was a sound of absolute misery and desolation. Moira didn’t need to turn on the light to know who it was. Somehow, after two weeks of being missing, Ramona had returned to her.

“Ramona?” Moira whispered.

Ramona raised her head. Her hair, tangled and clotted with dirt, framed her face. It was so strange to see it hanging down like this. Ramona had always worn her hair tied up in a bun. I hate the way my hair always hangs in my face, she had told Moira one time. It always gets in the way. I can’t have it getting in the way if I’m dealing with someone who has a gun. Now Ramona could see her face, streaked with dirt and mud except for the tears tracks trailing down her cheeks. It made her look tribal. Thanks to another flash of lightning, Moira saw her eyes were black - as colorless as space itself. But Moira could also sense, just as Lane had told her, a trace of the woman she loved somewhere deep within.

“M-Moira.” Her voice trembled she was shaking so hard. Water dripped from her sullied hair and skin, making plopping sounds on the bathroom floor. “M-Moira, I’m so-so cold.”

Before she could stop herself, Moira started towards her but Ramona flinched back. Moira at first thought it was because Ramona was frightened - she’d been gone after all this time, Moira could only imagine what had happened to her within that time - but then Moira realized it wasn’t because Ramona was afraid of Moira. She’s afraid of what she’ll do to me, Moira thought.

But she was too relieved to see Ramona alive, whatever the capacity may be, to be afraid of her.

“Don’t come near me,” Ramona gasped.

“Let me help you.”

“You c-can’t.”

“Why not? What the hell has happened to you?”

“He has me.”

“Who has you?”

“The dark king. He’s inside me, infected me. He uses me like a puppet whenever he wants. And when he does, I like it. But then there are moments...moments of clarity...and when things are clear it hurts so bad. He’s strong, so strong.”

“What can I do to help you?”

Ramona shuddered. “Lane. You have to help Lane. He’s the only Stanton left who can stop him...from spreading.” She grinned, baring her teeth. It was a grin of agony. “His mother...Nora...she’s coming to Adermoor Cove. She’s on her way right now. You have to convince her...to unlock the door she shut within Lane. Or else he will never be able to do what he needs to.”

And then she raised her head towards the ceiling and let out an ear piercing scream. Moira instinctively threw herself back, trying to protect her ears with her hands. The scream was high pitched, stretched beyond what human vocal cords were capable of. My head is going to burst open if she doesn’t stop this, Moira thought. For the first time she was afraid of Ramona.

And then it ended.

Ramona was gone.

Moira looked around. She ran out of the bathroom. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her ears rang. The fear she held for her own life was replaced by a different fear: she had seen Ramona, knew she was alive, and was afraid she wouldn’t see her again.

Lane had been telling the truth.

She had never doubted him but now she knew for sure.

But Ramona was gone, nowhere to be seen, as if she’d never been there at all.