Hunting Witches (2 page)

It wasn’t an ultimatum. There wouldn’t have been nearly as much conversation in that case. He stared at the ceiling for a while, thoughts churning, going down blind pathways that led to crossroads that all circled back onto each other. As he listened to her snores, which sounded like baby birds crying, he understood what was going to happen. He was going to start putting his resumé on line, applying for jobs he probably wasn’t qualified for, possibly even taking a pay cut and yet he would not stop until there was a good result. The job hunt was a hellish process, often demeaning, yet he would do it. Not because he felt pressured, and not because he was trying to avoid a fight. He would do it because he loved Nika. That one singular, solid truth overrode everything else. That settled it. He would do whatever it took to get them both the hell out of Atlanta.

After about two or three weeks of combing job boards and filling out online applications even after he had already uploaded a resumé, companies started calling. Mark talked to them all, even if he knew he wouldn’t take a position with them. One never knew where a conversation could lead.

Phone interviews were all right. Mark knew enough buzzwords and hot business phrases to fake his way through. “I am adept at maximizing landing page hits through a combination of social media marketing, keyword placement and search engine optimization.” He said things like that, keeping a straight face, time after time.

After a while, it all started to sound like gibberish.

“Once the algorithm is placed into the defibrillation matrix, the spray cheese becomes lucid, and the project is fiduciary sugar beet foghorn.”

Video interviews were a little better. He could read the faces of the people asking the questions, interpreting every little smirk and eyebrow twitch. When those sessions were over, Mark already knew if they were going to make an offer or not. It was usually “not.”

When he got the email from the start-up company in Bell Plains, Tennessee, it seemed too good to be true. He had applied for a simple analyst position. They were offering him a job as Chief of Research and Development.

“Hey, Nika?” Mark called, not looking up from his laptop. “Where is Bell Plains, do you know?”

“Never heard of it,” Nika called back.

“It’s somewhere in Tennessee,” he said.

“Tennessee is nice,” she said.

He sent an email back, stating that he was flattered and would like to hear more about the position. He was sure, though, that once they talked to him, they would realize he was nowhere near qualified enough for the job.

There was a reply in his inbox ten minutes later, asking for a video interview the next afternoon.

The great thing about online interviews was that Mark could manipulate the environment. He arranged the room so that his framed degree was visible, hanging on the wall over his shoulder. He put on his best shirt and tie. He looked smart. He appeared professional. Thanks to the internet and careful webcam placement, pants were an option, one which Mark often chose not to exercise. He had to amuse himself somehow.

When the call came through, Mark was greeted by four guys around his age, wearing T-shirts. The one in charge of the interview was named Bo.

“Yeah, man,” Bo said, “the four of us worked for companies in Knoxville and just, I don’t know, got sick of it. So we said fuck it and we moved out to Bell Plains. Started our own company. Dynagraph. Like ‘Dynamic Graphics.’ Now, not only are we doing websites for local businesses, we’ve got some international clients as well, and we’re starting to venture into smartphone apps.”

“Well, my background is in statistics analysis, Bo,” Mark said. “I don’t know if I’m going to be a good fit for the position you’ve offered.”

Bo wrinkled his brow. “What? Nah, fuck that, man. I get feelings about people, you know? And I’ve got a feeling about you, man. A good feeling. That’s why I want you for this position. It’s time for you to break out of that mold, man. Let your imagination run free. My experience has been that some of the most creative, freaky people are stuck in jobs where they can’t make freaky creative things. That’s society bullshit. Come on, dude. You’re ready. Take this chance.”

Mark frowned. “It’s a big move, Bo.”

Bo clapped his hands. “It’s a big opportunity, Mark! And you’re ready for it. I’ll prove it. Stand up.”

Mark grew pale. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve got a theory, Mark, and it involves you, right now. Do it, man. Stand up.”

Mark cleared his throat and stood. The guys at Dynagraph now had a clear view of where his tie ended and his white shirt.

“Back up,” Bo said.

Sighing, Mark did as he was asked. Now, his potential future employers had a face full of Mark’s boxers, bright red with a pattern of tiny electric guitars and amplifiers all over them.

The professionals at Dynagraph laughed and clapped.

“I knew it, man! I fuckin’ knew it!” Bo said. “Look at you, man! You’ve been doing the no pants dance this whole time! And you’re a rocker! You rock, but you think you have to hide it. Half suit, half rock star. Come on, man. Rock out with us. I mean, keep your cock in your pants, but still, totally rock out! Come up and spend the day with us. See how we work. We really do work. You married?”

“Yeah,” Mark stammered. “Nika. Her name is Nika.”

“Bring her, dude! We’ll take the two of you out for lunch at this awesome place we know. You can poke around and see what’s what. I really think this is going to work, man.”

Mark laughed. “This is not what I expected at all, Bo.”

Bo smiled. “Thank God for that. Next Friday. Be here around eleven in the morning. We’ll put you up overnight and you can take the weekend to think it over.”

“That sounds great, Bo. Thank you! I’m overwhelmed.”

“Awesome. High five.” Bo held his hand up to the webcam. Mark reciprocated, lightly smacking the built-in camera on his computer with his palm.

“Fuck, yeah!” Bo said. “See you next Friday, bro!”

The house was silent then, and Mark was a bit dizzy. “That was weird,” he said aloud to himself, just to hear some sound. Then he picked up the phone to call Nika.

“Hey, babe,” he said when she answered. “Can you take Friday off? Maybe Monday, too. We need to take a trip.”

***

It’s always rush hour in Atlanta, and getting out of town was a white-knuckle nightmare. Mark was driving, and to him, the average speed of the cars around him was the speed of light.

“I thought you were going to drive,” he said, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t care to drive,” Nika said. “You want to pull over?”

“Here? Shit, no. We’ll get pummeled if we pull to the shoulder!”

“Well, Mad Max, I suggest you go the legal speed limit and let these people go around you. If they’re in such a damned hurry, let ‘em pass you.”

It seemed logical. Mark drove at the speed limit. When the honking behind him began, he could ignore it. When people started whipping around him and cutting over into his lane without using their turn signals, it was scary, but he could handle it. When the eighteen-wheeler tried to drive up his ass and braked so hard, it started to fishtail, Mark sped up.

“You know, Nika, it’s important to go with the flow of traffic,” he said. “These people will run you over.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied, smiling and staring straight ahead.

The traffic began to thin out around Acworth, and by the time they hit Dalton, close to the state border, traffic was sparse and manageable. Mark slid the sunroof open and turned up the radio. The only station coming in without fading into shards of static was a classic rock outfit out of Knoxville. “Whipping Post” came blaring through the speakers. Nika began bobbing her head and singing along. She sang under her breath at first, but by the time the chorus hit, she was at full volume, face scrunched up.

“It cracks me up how much you love this song,” Mark said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she said during the guitar solo. “It’s Allman Brothers, baby! Every girl from Hotlanta worth a damn knows Allman Brothers.”

By the time they hit the split between interstates 75 and 40, Mark and Nika were both singing with the radio, regardless of how bad the song was or if they knew the words. This was becoming a road trip, not just a drive to the most important job interview of Mark’s life.

“It’s sort of like a vacation,” Nika said. “Dynagraph is paying for the hotel for the night. Maybe we can upgrade to a hot tub room.”

Mark laughed. “I can see me asking Bo that. ‘Hey, Boss, thanks for the room and everything, but can you call the hotel and see if we can get one with a trapeze?’”

“From what you’ve told me about Bo,” she replied, “he would probably do it.”

Knoxville flew by, with only a little congestion around the Cedar Bluff area. Downtown was a bit of a cluster, with some confusing signage, but all they had to do was stay on I-40 East and they would be at their destination. The road shrank from four lanes to two, and soon they were surrounded by miles of blooming redbud trees.

Mark grew quiet as they got closer to Bell Plains, going over possible interview questions in his head, wondering how he would answer. Bo was cool, but he seemed a bit nuts. He was sure there was nothing Bo wouldn’t ask, legal or not. Nika sensed his tension and squeezed his leg, then patted it. Mark grabbed her hand for a second.
It is going to be okay
, he thought.
We can do this.

Nika pointed. The sign for their exit loomed over the interstate. Mark nodded in acknowledgement and pulled into the right lane. Nika checked her phone.

“According to my GPS, we have to drive through one other town to get to Bell Plains, so we’re about half an hour out. We might be a few minutes late, but not too bad.”

“We’ll see,” Mark said. “If we need to, we’ll stop and call Bo, tell him we’re in town and give him an ETA. I hate to be late.”

“Sometimes you can’t help it,” Nika said.

Mark clicked the turn signal on and they exited the interstate.

The speed limit dropped to 45, and Nika did some quick math. “We should get there right on time, Paleface,” she said. “Maybe even five minutes early.”

“Should I speed up a little?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know what the cops are like around these parts,” Nika said. “Just keep steady.”

“Oh, hey!” Mark pointed at the green roadside sign.

ELDERS KEEP CITY LIMITS
, it read.

“Is that the town we have to go through to get to Bell Plains?”

Nika checked the map on her phone and nodded. “That’s it.”

“Okay. Oh, shit. We’re almost there. I am nervous as shit, Nika.”

“You’re going to be fine, Mark. Just relax. Be yourself.”

“I would be more comfortable being someone else,” Mark muttered.

He frowned and tightened his grip on the wheel. Nika turned down the radio so he could think and get the nervousness out of his system. She believed in him more than he believed in himself, which was annoying at times, but he always pulled through in the end. After all, they were here, weren’t they? He was making an honest effort to do what he said he would do.

Then they were driving through Elders Keep proper. Mark was unimpressed, and bothered by the lack of an apostrophe in the town name on the city limits sign. However, other signs in the town itself spelled it the same way. He still thought it was weird.

There wasn’t much to Elders Keep as far as scenery went, but something about it was charming to Nika. She marveled at the downtown, the old buildings, the sense of impending decay. She laughed at some of the names of places. Only somebody with a wonderful sense of humor would name a restaurant “The Meal Worm.” It seemed like the epitome of entropy, a town closing in on itself. It was the opposite of Atlanta, and Nika was charmed.

She cocked her head. She turned to Mark. “Do you hear that?”

Mark kept his eyes on the road. “Hear what?”

Nika shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounded like drums.”

“That’s my heart, pounding away in my chest, primed to explode.”

“No, I know what that sounds like,” she said. “This is different.”

“You’ve got a mean streak in you, babe.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t funny. She did hear drums, coming from somewhere inside Elders Keep, even if she couldn’t pinpoint the precise location. She felt the strange urge to dance, and in her mind were visions of fire.

All of these things only lasted a few seconds, and soon they were surrounded by fast food restaurants and gas stations. The Keep was behind them, and the consumer-driven sprawl of Bell Plains lie ahead.

“Jesus,” Mark said. “It’s like a miniature Atlanta.”

“At least people are using their turn signals here,” Nika said.

“What’s my next move, navigator?”

“Left at the next light, second street on the right, second building on the left,” she said.

“Left, right, left. All right.”

He checked the time. Seven minutes to go.

“There it is!” Nika said. “I see the sign.”

Mark made the left turn and pulled into the parking lot. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I have to pee so bad,” he said. “I wonder if we can do the interview while I’m peeing, because I think have to pee for about thirty minutes.”