CHAPTER 10
September 25. Ten Years Earlier.
“Good God, Jim! Why did you hit him?!” his mother’s voice reached Rick from somewhere deep inside the house. “Ricky! Where are you going?!”
But he didn’t even turn around.
“Ricky!”
“Going for a walk!” he threw back angrily over his shoulder.
“Get back in this house right now!”
Rick wasn’t listening anymore. Didn’t want to.
He knew exactly how it would end. The moment he stepped back through that door, his mother would start defending his father again, pretending things weren’t really that bad, pretending this was normal.
And right now, looking at Jim was the last thing he wanted.
Slamming the door behind him, he stormed outside wearing exactly what he had on — a thin black sweater, jeans, and sneakers completely unsuited for this damp, miserable town.
He still couldn’t get used to the weather here.
After the warmth he’d grown up with, the cold felt almost like a personal insult.
The cut on his cheek throbbed unpleasantly. Blood roared in his ears, and everything inside him was boiling so fiercely he either wanted to scream or smash something to hell.
And on top of that, he desperately wanted a cigarette, but, as luck would have it, he was completely out.
Rick shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the empty street, hoping to stumble across some all-night convenience store.
The damp air settled unpleasantly in his lungs. At the same time, it helped clear his head.
Little by little, his thoughts began to untangle.
Rare reflections of headlights drifted lazily across the wet asphalt. Somewhere in the distance, traffic hummed along the highway. The town itself felt so foreign and indifferent, as if it couldn’t care less what was happening inside the people who lived there.
More shouting.
More fighting.
More threats of divorce that nobody ever followed through on.
Nothing new.
Rick didn’t even notice how far he’d wandered from home.
Time had gotten lost somewhere between the empty streets and identical intersections. Maybe an hour had passed. Maybe several.
The cold gradually worked its way deeper beneath his skin. His fingers had begun to go numb, and the thin sweater barely protected him from the damp wind anymore. Still, he had no desire to go home.
“Shit...” he muttered through clenched teeth, hunching his shoulders higher. “It’s fucking freezing.”
Without realizing it, Rick had wandered to an old, run-down gas station on the edge of town.
The air smelled heavily of gasoline and wet asphalt, while the bright neon sign above the twenty-four-hour convenience store stabbed at his tired eyes.
That was when his gaze caught a familiar bright-red convertible parked near the corner of the building.
Even surrounded by dampness, dirt, and miserable weather, the car looked outrageously expensive and completely out of place. Like a mockery of the entire town.
Rick clenched his jaw.
Just what he needed.
Running into that idiot from Horror Night — John, if he remembered correctly — was the last thing he wanted right now.
But he needed cigarettes badly enough that turning around wasn’t an option.
Rick licked his dry lips and headed toward the store.
Warm air hit him the moment he pushed through the door.
A bell jingled overhead.
After the freezing street outside, it felt almost stuffy inside. The place smelled of cheap coffee, sugary syrups, and something fried from the aging food display.
Rick rubbed his frozen forearms with both hands, trying to warm up, and only then looked up.
He regretted it immediately.
John was standing by the refrigerators.
Perfectly styled hair. A light-colored jacket that probably cost more than all of Rick’s clothes put together. The relaxed posture of someone who knew exactly how to make people like him.
Leaning against a refrigerator beside him stood Misty. She had been lazily telling him something while twirling a piece of gum between her fingers, but the moment she noticed Rick, she fell silent.
King turned around too.
And instantly broke into a grin.
“Ohhh,” he drawled with open amusement. “Please don’t tell me that’s our newcomer.”
Rick walked past without saying a word. Without even looking at him.
“You know,” John continued louder, clearly enjoying himself, “are you aware this isn’t California? Or did you make a personal commitment to dying of hypothermia?”
Misty snorted with laughter.
Rick only clenched his jaw harder and walked up to the register.
“A pack of Marlboros.”
The older cashier lazily reached for the cigarettes.
“Wow,” John continued. “He smokes too. What a bad boy.”
Rick slowly turned his head.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
John’s grin only widened as he stepped a little closer.
Up close, he smelled of expensive cologne and mint.
“Actually, I do,” he answered calmly. “But watching you wander around town in the middle of the night looking like that is pretty entertaining too.”
Rick exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Then find a better hobby.”
For a second, tension hung between them.
But then John unexpectedly smirked. Easy. Almost lazy. As though he’d finally lost interest.
“Relax, newcomer,” he said, turning away. “You’re about two seconds from exploding with anger.”
He grabbed an energy drink from a shelf and nodded toward the exit for Misty. She gave Rick one last strange look before silently following after him.
The bell above the door jingled again.
Rick watched them leave with irritation before taking his cigarettes and muttering under his breath:
“Asshole...”
Only then did he step back out into the cold night.
The cold struck his face the moment he emerged.
Annoyed, he shoved a hand into his pocket and was already reaching for his lighter when he collided hard with someone.
“Shit! Watch where you're —”
He automatically looked up and froze, the rest of the sentence dying halfway out of his mouth.
Aaron was standing directly in front of him.
For one brief moment, they simply stared at each other. Far too close.
Rick noticed the damp strands of black hair, darkened by the moisture in the air, the cold vapor of Aaron’s breath, and the way the collar of his dark-blue bomber jacket had been carelessly turned up against his neck.
But then Aaron’s gaze suddenly stopped a little higher.
On his cheek.
The split skin still stung unpleasantly from his father's punch, and Rick almost physically felt the moment Aaron noticed it.
A faint frown touched his face. Just barely. As though he wanted to ask something...But he stayed silent. And for some reason, that brief look made something tighten strangely inside Rick.
“You...” Rick started, only to falter immediately.
“Yeah,” Aaron replied shortly.
An awkward silence settled between them.
Rick shifted aside to let him pass inside, and at that exact moment Aaron stepped in the same direction. They nearly collided again.
Rick exhaled irritably and stepped the other way.
Aaron did too.
This time they both froze at once.
Somewhere behind them, the gas station hummed softly. The store door opened and shut.
And still they stood facing one another, somehow incapable of simply walking around each other.
For some reason, Rick could feel warmth creeping into his cheeks. Aaron looked noticeably more tense than usual too.
Then, with a faint note of irritation, he exhaled and said:
“Can I actually get through? I need to pay for gas.”
Rick blinked, as if only just returning to reality.
“Oh... right. Sorry.”
He finally stepped aside.
Aaron gave a brief nod and walked past him without a word, his shoulder brushing Rick’s lightly.
The contact was barely there. But the sensation lingered on his skin anyway.
Rick watched him for a few seconds before quickly looking away and finally pulling out a cigarette.
The lighter only sparked on the second try.
For some reason, his fingers were trembling a little more than the cold alone could explain.
The acrid smoke filled his lungs, and Rick closed his eyes for a second. Another drag.
The tension finally began to ease, spreading through his body in a heavy, sluggish calm.
The noise inside his head grew quieter.
He slowly exhaled smoke into the cold air and took a few steps away, stopping near the corner of the store when his gaze suddenly caught a familiar white jacket across the street.
John was standing beside some guy — a thin, hunched kid with a sickly pale face and a nervous, darting gaze. The guy kept glancing around as though he was afraid someone was watching him.
John said something brief and passed something into his hand, but neither of them seemed in any hurry to leave. They continued talking quietly.
Rick frowned.
For some reason, it immediately struck him as odd. They looked too different. People from completely different worlds who probably wouldn’t have crossed paths without a reason.
“Hey, Rick.”
A pleasant female voice suddenly sounded beside him.
Caught off guard, he inhaled smoke the wrong way and broke into a rough cough. Seeing his reaction, Misty laughed softly.
“Sorry,” she said through a smile. “I thought you’d noticed me.”
Now Rick got a better look at her. Tall. Beautiful. Long dark hair. Soft, feminine features. And a sly, almost foxlike look in her eyes. A lollipop rolled lazily inside her cheek.
“It’s fine... I was just thinking about something,” Rick replied, slightly embarrassed.
The bell above the store door jingled softly. Rick turned automatically and almost immediately found himself meeting Aaron’s gaze.
Aaron noticed him right away. His eyes lingered on Rick for a fraction of a second — calm, attentive — Then, without a word, he headed toward his bike by the gas pumps.
“Oh?” Misty hummed, following his gaze. Unexpectedly, she placed a hand on Rick’s shoulder.
“You’re interesting. Got one to spare?”
She nodded toward the cigarette in his hand.
Rick silently held out the pack. Slender fingers carefully pulled one free. Leaning a little closer, Misty lit it from his lighter and slowly drew in the smoke.
“So what were you thinking about so hard?” she asked lazily, exhaling smoke to the side.
Rick shrugged and slipped his free hand into his jeans pocket.
“Nothing much.”
“Mmm...” she drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You looked like you were mentally burying someone.”
The corner of Rick’s mouth twitched upward.
“Are all the people here this weird?”
“Only the attractive ones,” Misty replied without missing a beat, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “You included, by the way.”
Rick let out a short huff.
“Weird or attractive?”
She laughed quietly.
“Both.”
Talking to her was surprisingly easy. So easy that Rick found himself relaxing a little, even though people like her usually started getting on his nerves after only a few minutes.
“You know, you actually look more like a local than you think,” she continued, leaning her shoulder against the wall of the store.
“How’s that?” he asked with a smile.
“Locals usually look at Dumpfield like they can’t wait to get the hell out.”
Rick exhaled smoke softly and was about to answer when a loud engine roared from the gas pumps.
He turned automatically.
Aaron had just swung a leg over his bike and was pulling on a glove. For one brief moment he lifted his head, and that cold, sharp gaze slid briefly in Rick’s direction.
Just a second.
But somehow it was enough to make Rick’s heart jerk unpleasantly beneath his ribs again.
The next moment the engine growled louder. Aaron looked away as though he’d immediately lost all interest in what was happening. The bike rolled smoothly away from the station and quickly vanished into the wet darkness of the street.
Rick didn’t even understand why he kept watching after him for several long seconds.
“Ohhh...” Misty drawled with a faint smirk. “Now that’s even more interesting.”
Rick frowned.
“What does that mean? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” she replied immediately, hiding her smile behind her cigarette. “Forget it.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but didn’t get a chance to say anything. Bright headlights swept across the wet asphalt. A familiar red convertible glided into the gas station with a soft hiss.
John lowered the window and lazily rested an elbow on the door.
“There you are,” he drawled, looking from Misty to Rick. “I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped.”
“Well, look at that,” Misty snorted. “You noticed I was gone?”
But John’s gaze still lingered on Rick a little longer than necessary. It slid over the cigarette in his fingers. Over Misty’s hand resting on his shoulder. And for a brief moment, something unpleasant flashed in his eyes.
The corner of Misty’s mouth twitched.
Rick immediately understood that this was exactly what she’d wanted.
John chuckled quietly.
“Didn’t know you liked this type.”
“What type?” Misty narrowed her eyes instantly.
John tilted his head slightly.
“Pathetic ones.”
Rick clenched his jaw.
“Keep your hands off my girlfriend, Parker,” John said through gritted teeth.
“Pfft.” Rick gave a lazy huff. “Afraid I’ll steal her?”
An unpleasant tension settled between them for several seconds.
John slowly straightened. He no longer looked quite so relaxed. For a moment, something sharp — almost predatory — appeared in his eyes. And Rick suddenly realized with startling clarity that this guy was completely unaccustomed to being challenged.
But he had no intention of backing down now.
He only narrowed his eyes in return, calmly holding John's gaze.
Misty looked back and forth between them as though she was enjoying this more and more by the second.
Then she suddenly burst out laughing.
“God, guys, enough with the circus already,” she said lightly, pointing her cigarette toward the car. “Alright, Johnny. Let’s go.”
She turned back to Rick.
“See you around, new guy.”
Before he could answer, she slipped away and climbed into the convertible.
The car shot off, leaving behind nothing but the squeal of tires, the smell of gasoline, cigarettes, and sweet candy.
Rick stood outside the store for a few more seconds, watching the empty road where the red taillights had disappeared. Then he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and continued on his way.
The town was gradually emptying out.
Cars passed less and less frequently. House windows went dark one after another. The damp cold continued clinging to his skin even through his clothes. Dirty puddles squelched beneath his shoes.
Somewhere in the distance, the highway murmured. Above him, an old bar sign blinked lazily.
Rick didn’t even realize he’d pulled out another cigarette.
The harsh smoke burned pleasantly in his throat.
He turned into another narrow alley and suddenly stopped when he heard a sharp hiss.
Two stray cats stood frozen beside a row of dumpsters. Dirty. Scruffy. Their backs arched and ears flattened. They growled quietly at one another, ready to tear each other apart at any second.
Rick snorted to himself.
“Yeah... relatable.”
He was about to keep walking when he caught sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.
The same guy. Thin. Hunched. With that nervous, twitchy gaze.
He was moving quickly along the opposite side of the street, constantly glancing over his shoulder as though afraid someone was following him.
Rick frowned.
A sharp stab of curiosity immediately prickled inside him.
John flashed through his memory. Their strange exchange at the gas station. The way something had passed from one hand to another.
The guy turned a corner.
Rick slowed for only a second. Then he followed.
Not entirely sure why.
He kept his distance, trying not to make noise or attract attention. Simply watching as the guy disappeared deeper into a maze of narrow, dark alleys between old brick buildings.
And the farther they went, the emptier the streets became.
Most of the streetlights here didn’t even work.
Only a dim sign flickered somewhere overhead, while mud squelched beneath his feet.
Rick had already started thinking this had been a stupid idea when suddenly a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
He jerked violently and spun around at once, instinctively taking a step backward.
A tall man stood in front of him. Dark, worn jacket. Cheap knit cap pulled almost down over his eyes.
He smelled of cigarettes and stale alcohol.
“You lost or something?” the man asked with a crooked grin.
