Brighter, a supernatural thriller

Brighter
by V. J. Chambers

BRIGHTER
© copyright 2010 by V. J. Chambers
http://vjchambers.com
Punk Rawk Books
Kindle Edition

Please do not copy or post this book in its entirety or in parts anywhere. You may, however, share the entire book with a friend by forwarding the entire file to them. (And I won't get mad.)

Brighter
by V.J. Chambers

Part One
Five Years Ago…

Ben Helzey watched Blair Casey out of the corner of his eye, anger seeping up his torso and into his skull. The summer heat felt like it was boiling Ben's brain.

Blair stood outside The Brass Frog, the bar in town, hunched against the wall, rubbing her elbows with her hands. Rows of antique houses with painted bricks stared out at the dark street. Above them, the moon looked bloated in the starry sky. Ben had Garrett Hillard by the collar of his shirt. He wrenched his eyes away from Blair and looked at Garrett. Garrett looked terrified and confused. Owen, Blair's boyfriend, and several of their friends, surrounded Ben and Garrett. Their fists were clenched, their faces fixed in angry snarls.

This was all Blair's fault. All of it. As usual, Ben had to fix Blair's screw ups. He gritted his teeth. He might as well get this over with.

Ben pushed Garrett into Owen and the other guys. Owen moved forward, began punching Garrett in the face, the stomach. Owen's fist caught Garrett's nose. His head whipped backward. Blood gushed from it, arching across the pavement.

Garrett was yelling, "I didn't touch her! I never touched her!"

The other guys closed in on Garrett, screaming. Ben let it go on a few moments. He guessed Blair's accusations were as good as any. But he wanted this over. He had plans tonight.

Ben tugged Garrett backward and threw him down face first into the sidewalk. Garrett threw out his hands to break his fall, but Ben had thrown him hard, and his chin and cheekbone collided with the concrete. Ben was starting to sweat. He rolled his shoulders, irritated.

Ben strode forward, put his foot against the side of Garrett's face and applied pressure.

He bent down, and in a tightly controlled voice, hissed, "Get the fuck out of town, bastard."

Ben moved his foot and backed away. He was done. He'd scared the guy. He knew it. He looked at the rest of his friends and started up the sidewalk, expecting them to follow. But behind him he heard the sounds of feet making impact with flesh, and he turned around. The other guys were kicking Garrett's body, still screaming at him.

"Let's go," Ben said to them. They looked up at him and reluctantly backed off.

Blair moved in closer to Garrett's inert body. She knelt by him and whispered something.

"Let's go," Ben repeated.

The bartender appeared at the door of The Brass Frog. "Break it up," he yelled.

No one moved.

"I'm calling the cops," said the bartender.

"Let's go," said Ben.

And finally, they followed him. They ran away from the broken body of the boy they'd just beaten, Owen pulling Blair along with him, holding her hand tight. They ran up the street to Ben's house. Ben slid inside the door last, pulled it closed after them. He slumped against the closed door, catching his breath. His shirt was soaked in sweat.

Blair collapsed on Ben's sofa. She was crying. Owen sat next to her, gathered her into his arms. She buried her face on his shoulder. Ben pulled in a sharp breath through his nose and looked away. He yanked his sopping shirt over his head and went into the kitchen for a beer.

With an open bottle, he returned to the living room. He glared at Blair. "I'm sick of cleaning up your messes," he said.

"Hey," said Owen. "This wasn't her fault."

"Whatever," said Ben. "I had a date tonight, you know?" He took his phone out of his pocket and began searching through his contacts for Ramona's number.

"Oh, fine," said Blair. "Call your little freshman."

Ben half-laughed in disgust and flipped her off before starting towards his bedroom. At the door, he turned and looked out at the group of his friends. "Don't be here when I come out of the room, okay?"

And he slammed the door in their surprised faces.

* * *

Across town, in a dorm room on campus, Ramona Brinks was waiting by the phone. She was supposed to be going to see a movie with a guy she'd met named Ben Helzey.

When he did call, he sounded out of breath.

"We missed the movie," she said, irritated. She should have known that an older guy like Ben wasn't really interested in a little freshman girl like her.

"Sorry," said Ben. "My friend Blair called me crying. She said some guy raped her. I had to take care of it."

Chapter One
Five years later...

"Did you hear?" said Dawn Trimbley.

Ramona Brinks was seated on a bench outside The Holy Grind, sipping from a cardboard coffee cup. It was late afternoon, so the coffee shop was closing in a half an hour or so, and the crowd was dwindling. A group of four people sat at the table next to Ramona. They were an eclectic bunch: each member sporting dread locks, torn fishnets, oversized ripped pants, Misfits t-shirts, or corduroy patches.

"No," she said to Dawn. "Hear what?"

"Garrett Hillard," said Dawn, "is coming back to town."

Ramona raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her drink. "The Garrett Hillard that raped Blair? That Zane and Owen and Ben kicked out of town?" she asked. "That Garrett Hillard?"

Dawn nodded.

"Oh my God," said Ramona. "Does Owen know?"

Dawn nodded. "He's pissed. He says that when Garrett left, they told him never to come back here."

Owen was Blair's boyfriend. He worked the counter at The Grind and sported three inch blue spikes on his head. Ramona could hardly picture him angry, however. He always seemed so laid back.

"But he's back," Ramona said. Despite herself, a little thrill went through her. She'd always been curious about Garrett Hillard. He was somewhat of a legend in Elston. The only guy she knew of that had ever been run out of town. "Blair should have him arrested," she said.

"I don't think she wants to involve the police," said Dawn. "But you're right. He should be in jail. When they threw him out of town, they let him off easy."

Ramona nodded. "I can't believe he's back. Why would he come back?" She wanted to meet him. She wanted to know why he'd done what he did. If he'd done it. Ben had always seemed pissed off about the whole thing. "Blair
claims
," he'd say, as if she might be lying. If she were still dating Ben, she would have asked Ben about Garrett. But Ben had left town years ago to go to grad school. Ramona was currently single, with no prospects, unless you counted the hopeless crush she had on a guy named Mason, who only saw her as a friend.

The guy in the Misfits t-shirt at the table next to them leaned back over his chair. "He came back 'cause he couldn't help himself," he said. "It's the vortex. You can try to leave, but you'll come back. Once this town gets its hooks in..."

"There's no vortex," said Dawn, glaring at the guy.

He shrugged and turned back around.

"I don't know," said Ramona. "I can't seem to get the hell out of here." Whenever people had problems leaving Elston, they always blamed it on the "vortex," which was supposedly underneath the library in town and emitted a supernatural beam that kept people from moving out. It was a joke more than anything.

Accordingly, Dawn smiled. "Yeah, well, there's that, I guess."

"Gosh," said Ramona, "what a mess. I hope he just turns right around and leaves." She hoped no such thing. Garrett Hillard returning to town was the most exciting thing that had happened since she'd moved to Elston. Maybe it was stupid that she wanted to meet him. Maybe she was asking for trouble. That was okay with Ramona. It would be an adventure. "What's he look like?"

Dawn raised her eyebrows.

"So I can avoid him," said Ramona.

"I've never seen him," said Dawn. "I didn't live here then either."

That was funny, because... "I thought you lived with Fiona then," said Ramona. "You told me—"

"No," said Dawn. "That wasn't me. Fiona lived with Staci then. You remember Staci. With the red curly hair?"

Ramona shook her head. "No, I don't think I ever met her. But I remember, because when you were at Fiona's party, you told me this story about when the two of you lived together—"

"No," said Dawn, more forcefully this time. "You're thinking of someone else, Ramona." Dawn stood up, tossing her half-full cup into the garbage can. "I've got to go." She turned and hurried down the street. Ramona stared after Dawn until she disappeared around a corner.

That had been weird. Those river hippies. They were strange. Too much pot. Or maybe it was Ramona who was smoking too much. She could swear that Dawn had told her that story about Fiona, but maybe... No. It was definitely Dawn. How unbelievably weird.

* * *

Garrett Hillard drove his beat-up Ford Pinto across the state line into West Virginia at seventy-seven miles per hour. He'd been away from Elston for five years. It was time to go back home. They'd changed the "Welcome to West Virginia" sign. Instead of blue writing on a white background, it was covered in photos with large white block letters. Garrett liked the new sign better. It said the same thing, but it was prettier.

Garrett began dialing on his cell phone and nearly swerved into the lane next to him. Yanking the steering wheel back, he put the phone to his ear. It rang. He was just going to let his parents know that he was in the state, only twenty or thirty minutes from home. He'd been driving for two days, and he knew they'd be happy to hear he was close. Garrett was glad too. Not because he was excited to be moving back in with his parents at twenty-seven years of age, but because he was excited to be done with driving. His old car didn't have cruise control, and his leg ached from pressing in the gas pedal.

Green leaves streamed past Garrett's windows. He gazed at them as they passed and nearly swerved into the other lane again. He really had been driving too long. He'd broken the trip up into two days, because it was a twenty-four hour drive and that was too long for him to do in one sitting. He'd driven all the way from Austin, Texas, where his girlfriend Carrie had decided the two of them weren't "good for each other." Four years of his life down the drain. He and Carrie had met in Washington, D.C., where he'd moved after leaving Elston. Carrie was attending college there. The romance had been whirlwindish, but Garrett had never been happier, especially considering his life hadn't been going too well before he moved to D.C. Within a few months, they'd moved in together. Within a year, they were talking about marriage.

Carrie graduated from college. She wanted to be closer to her family in Texas, so they moved to Austin. It was tough for Garrett. He had real trouble finding a job. He and Carrie had to depend on her parents for financial support. Once he did find a job, it didn't pay the kind of money that he'd hoped. He was always looking for other employment, simply taking jobs until something "better" came along. As a result, they never seemed to get on their feet as far as money was concerned. The wedding kept getting pushed back. Garrett couldn't even afford to get Carrie an engagement ring. At first, Carrie seemed to understand. She recognized the job market in Austin wasn't the same as the job market in D.C. She told him it would just take time. They needed to be patient. But as time slipped under doors and out windows, and the situation didn't improve, Carrie began to blame Garrett, not the Austin job market.

They would argue, late into the night. Carrie would claim that Garrett wasn't trying hard enough. She would say he needed to look harder. She'd suggest he commute to Houston. Garrett resented her accusations. Sure, he was discouraged. Maybe he didn't have the illusions he'd had when they first moved to Texas. Maybe that looked to Carrie like he wasn't "trying hard enough." But he sure as hell was trying as hard as he could. Did she think he wanted to be poor? Did she think he wanted to scrape by paycheck to paycheck? When he couldn't stand her yelling at him anymore, he'd yell back. She was the one with the college degree after all. Why wasn't she making better money? Why was she working for twelve bucks an hour as a receptionist? Why wasn't she using her goddamned degree?

Carrie hated it when he yelled. She'd yell back at first, but he'd just yell louder. Eventually, he'd back her into a corner, the rage in his voice and in his body overpowering her, making her retreat. Her face would go white in fear. She'd cower. He didn't know why he needed her to respond that way. He felt sorry about it afterwards. It was as if the anger took over his brain, white hot flooding his head like lava, taking control. He didn't think. He acted. He demanded. He intimidated. It was like in
The Incredible Hulk
. Sometimes, a big green monster just took over his body and mind. He drowned in anger. He was a completely different person.