Page 99 of So Thirsty

I look around. The trees sway. Only some of them, which means the disturbance isn’t from the wind. There’s something out there.

“Henry?” I say, though I know in my bones it’s not him. The night coils around me. My heart plummets. “Naomi?”

She would answer. If it were her, she would say so.

I slowly turn on my heel, prepared to walk fast in the opposite direction, back toward the camper, but I’m met with an obstruction. Way down the track, between me and the ghost town and the vampires and Naomi, there’s a pair of red eyes glaring out from the dark. Just floating there.

I go rigid.

For a moment I let myself believe that the eyes are not eyes but something else. For a moment I let myself believe they belong to an owl. For a moment I feel no fear because I remember what I am, but then I realize, if I am what I am, if I exist, what else does?

The eyes move toward me, two floating red orbs coming closer and closer until they belong to a face, until the face belongs to a body. Until there’s a very old woman before me.

She smiles, her eyes no longer red but a watery blue. “Are you lost, dear?”

She speaks with a thick Southern accent.

“Um…”

“Let’s not stand on the tracks. Wouldn’t want to tempt fate. Not after we’ve already spat in her face. Suppose I should introduce myself,” the woman says. “I’m Ms. Alice. What’s your name, little bird?”

“It’s, um, Sloane.” My name comes out more like a question than like a statement. I’m not sure how to interact with this woman, if she’s friend or foe. “Hi.”

She’s a little taller than me, though her spine and shoulders curve in at the top like a candy cane. Her hair is white and flossy, and her sweet face is deeply lined. She wears a red flannel shirt tucked into cargo pants, which are tucked into some rugged snow boots.

If it weren’t for the red eyes that I watched magically turn blue, I might wonder why she isn’t wearing a coat. But I know she’s not cold because she’s not human. If the eyes didn’t give her away, her smell would. She doesn’t smell human.

“Are you…” I start the question but find it’s too ridiculous to finish. And maybe rude?

“I work for the park service,” she says in her sugary drawl. “A volunteer. That’s what I tell people, anyway. Ordinary people. This land is managed by the National Park Service. It’s a historic landmark. Get the occasional visitor. The curious. The adventurous. They come out here, and some of ’em get lost. Some of ’em just don’t ever find their way home. Such a shame.”

Since she knew what I was getting at, a simple “yes” would have sufficed.

“I’m figuring you’re not out here alone, are ya, birdie?”

“No,” I say, but the word lodges in my throat. I cough.

“Poor dear,” she says, putting her hand on my back as she starts to walk me toward the camper. “I’ll take care of you. Always nice to have visitors.”

It’s bizarre to watch someone who looks so fragile move so nimbly.

The smell of smoke lets me know we’re getting close to the camper, and soon I hear Elisa’s and Ilie’s and Henry’s voices.

Ms. Alice clucks. “Now, where are my manners? Would ya like a drink?”

“I—I’m fine,” I stutter.

“Come on, now. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.” She points to the coaling tower. “You can go on and help yourself if you don’t like an audience.”

She starts to rub my back, her bony hand pressing into me.

“I’m not…” I start, but my voice won’t lie on my behalf. Its allegiance is to my throat, which aches in need.

“But you are, aren’t ya, birdie?” she says. “I can tell.”

“We have some. At the camper…Can we— Let me, um, ask Henry.”

She puts her hands on my shoulders and turns me around. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind. Ilie. Elisa. All of ’em. We’re old friends. Besides, whatever you have will only get you so far. Trust me, birdie. If someone’s offering, you take it.”