The ARC Chronicles Collection

Chapter 3

Still fuming, Eva made short work of depositing her documents and leaving the hospital. Her mood was tempered somewhat by the gorgeous afternoon, but she still appeared stained. She turned once, glaring at the clock tower, a monolith thrust amongst a sea of greenery, turned, and walked off.

Her house was only a half-hour stroll from the hospital, so most days Eva walked. Prudence kept her to the roads that snaked through the bio research park, but feeling belligerent, Eva took a straight line through the remains of the woodland that had once formed a great forest over much of Worcester.

The grove of American Linden towered over Eva as leaves crunched underfoot, the thinning canopy a riot of bright yellow. In the breeze, small nuts, disturbed by the motion from their casings, dropped to the ground. Chipmunks scampered around in a frenzy amidst the fallen leaves collecting the treasure, twittering warnings at her as she passed. She had not been in the woods long, on the path that led to one of the many parking lots, before Eva sensed she was not alone. Turning slowly, she saw a figure sitting on a bench, facing away from her. The figure was hunched, shoulders shaking. Anger broke like a wave against a cliff of compassion, and Eva walked over to a sobbing Jenny.

Sitting beside Jenny, Eva put her arms around the girl, but Jenny pushed her away.

“I don’t deserve comfort. I’ve done terrible things.”

“Would it help to talk about it?”

Jenny wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. “No, not particularly. You warned me. I was not ready. He was right. There are some things that are unforgiveable.”

“You mean your father? You cannot be held responsible for the acts of others, if that is what happened.”

“Well, he was right. I am a slut. If I am allowed to dwell in this kingdom of self-loathing, it is because it is a realm of my own making. He r***d me as a child, but I think I wanted him to, even though he was my own father. The memories are beyond horrific, now I consider them as an adult. Can we leave here?”

“Certainly. Where do you live?”

“Wells Street, though I spend more time with my boyfriend a couple of blocks away.”

“I’ll walk with you, if that’s okay. You live two streets down, and I’d rather make sure you got home than wake up to hear someone else has jumped in front of a car on Belmont.”

Jenny shrugged and set off. The girl did not want to talk, and, after the recent revelations, that was understandable. Eva walked alongside in silence, enjoying the late afternoon air despite everything that had happened. They passed the huge white bulk of the research center, looming above the trees like some huge squatting spider. Every time Eva saw the building, she got the chills. There was something unwholesome about the place, something sterile and unnatural. She did not know what went on in there, but had heard stories about vivisection and worse. It was what kept her on the roads rather than taking this more direct route.

At length they reached Belmont Street, the main road that bisected Worcester, and waited to cross the six lanes of traffic.

“Steady now,” Eva warned. “No dramatic gestures.”

This brought a laugh from Jenny. “You know what I just figured? Be very careful when a trained psychologist asks you if you are okay.”

“True, but we don’t always ask for professional reasons. I’m concerned for you, personally, not professionally.”

A further guffaw from Jenny coincided with the lights changing, and then they walked across. The arterial traffic faded into the background very quickly as they walked down a very quiet Plantation Street, and then Jenny made a turn.

“This is me. Thank you for walking with me. I’m afraid I am not much of a conversationalist on days like this.”

Eva looked past her up the road. “Your father…”

“Is dead. I pushed him down some stairs and something inside him broke. I sat with him and watched him die as he tried to call for help. It’s not something I am proud of, but he got what he deserved. The police only saw a dead fat man with his small daughter. It is certainly not something you are going to get me to admit in front of anyone else. Come to think of it, I may be leaving anyway.”

“Don’t make a hasty decision,” Eva warned. “You could have a good career ahead of you.”

“My time is limited.” Jenny countered. “That much will become obvious soon enough. Thanks for the company.”

Leaving her standing at the end of the road, Jenny trudged off without looking back. Amused at the impulsive tendencies of youth, Eva smiled and headed home.

Northboro Street was a typical example of the affluent Worcester suburbs. The houses were large, and, for the most part, spread far enough apart to give decent privacy. Eva did not see it this way. It instilled in her a sense of isolation. There was no community spirit, and everybody kept to themselves, with furtive glances or twitches of a curtain being the only methods of communication. The gardens were all huge, and the gnarled trees betrayed evidence of the ancient woodland that had been invaded by the city.

Since Eva wasn’t feeling particularly sociable, today she was glad of the quiet nature of the place. Strolling down the road, she paid scant attention to the other houses, instead concentrating on her own.

About halfway down the road, on the left, loomed a white house with green roof; her husband’s utility truck parked out front across the path. The house was shrouded by birch trees on one side, and giant spruces to the rear, leaving it gloomy even in the afternoon sun. In the silence outside, Eva could sense something was amiss. An insistent banging was coming from within her house, and it appeared several of the windows had been boarded up.

Worried, Eva walked round the side of the house and entered the utility room. “Brian?”

The banging stopped. There was no movement, just silence. Eva looked around, seeking some cause of this odd behaviour. Nothing was amiss in the kitchen, aside from a smattering of unwashed dishes. However, there was nothing unusual with that. The house stood empty for most of the day. Eva was at the hospital, and Brian was the manager of a local sporting goods store.

Their lifestyle suited them. Eva had fallen for Brian at school, where he played football. Despite his marked intellectual inferiority, and his tendency during the early years to embark on a series of affairs, they had remained together. Many times Eva had asked herself ‘Am I attracted to bad boys?’ and could not see beyond the simple answer that she was. They answered a call in her. They were everything she was not: rugged, primal, dependent. Brian had dropped out of the College of the Holy Cross, where he had been awarded a football scholarship, in order to work at Modell’s, where his athletic prowess had earned him status, and the aforementioned female interest.

Still, he had provided for her, and while she had studied, he worked. When a nervous proposal of marriage had come along, Eva felt obliged to say yes, even though deep down she knew she could have done better. ”Sometimes you just accept what life deals out,“ her father used to say, implying she would never amount to anything.

“Brian?” Eva called again. Still nothing. Moving from the kitchen, she glanced in the study. Nothing, but the windows were indeed boarded up. The living room, bedecked with antique fireplace looked like it, too, was set to be a refuge from an external assault, wooden slats nailed haphazardly across the window panes.

Eva climbed the stairs. Afternoon became twilight in the reduced light. In silence, she put her hand to her mouth as she saw one of the walls had nearly been completely torn down to provide wood for the windows. With a slowly mounting sense of dread, Eva checked the rooms. Still nothing. The windows were all boarded in the same untidy fashion, but of her husband, there was no sign. Curtains had been torn asunder in their bedroom in haste. Nails strewn across the floor suggested this was the latest site of her husband’s mysterious activity, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Brian. Where are you? Why are you doing this? Come out and we can talk.” Eva stood in silence, trying to gauge any sound of movement.

The banging resumed, as loud as if it were next to her, and she realised the reason was the laundry chute to the basement. Unintelligible mutterings accompanied the noise.

Not waiting for her husband to move again, Eva flew down the stairs, two at a time, and screamed.