Chapter Text
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Emily hated Roanoke. Piece of shit has-been boomtown. A railroad dump where long ago, Norfolk-Southern planted their flag and made some quaint Virginia farm town their bitch.
Star City, her Mama called the town, in honor of the Mill Mountain star—a flickering wannabe Hollywood sign on the ridge of its namesake. Like neon lights bolted onto rusted scaffolding was anything to be proud of.
Her folks couldn’t even see that poor excuse for an attraction, clinging on south of the city, in one of the few hollers still deserving the name.
Leaning on her rusted bike like a walker, she marched up her mountain with a half limp. Her bike's front flat tire slapped against the road every footstep. No patch kit was gonna save the torn, tattered rubber. One shattered beer bottle was all it took to do her in, next to a stop sign swiss-cheesed with bullet holes. Still an easy thirty minutes from home.
Muffled voices broke through the cutting winds. She spun back and snapped out of her moping. Her heart skipped at hearing the cackling of boys, not in view yet. Jacob.
“How the...fuck, fuckin’ shit!” she hissed while flinging her bike down and hopping over the guardrail.
Shoes sinking into the loamy topsoil, fresh deer tracks guided her through the dense screen of bushes. Once a ways in, she stilled. How long had they been following?
“Here’s her bike. Think she ran into the wood?”
A pause.
“Hey, look at that bush.”
A shorter pause.
“Holy shit, damn camouflaged. Good eye.” A different voice. Jacob’s. “Why you run off, Emily?” he shouted, “We weren’t finished.”
Run. She sprinted through the laurels, up the hill towards the next hairpin turn.
“Look at you go, coward! Snitch bitch. What a fucking—chase her!” A mess of screeches shot out behind her as she stumbled forward in big leaps, knees crying out for mercy on each and every uphill step.
Harsh laughter and heavy footsteps trailed her ass. She pivoted and gained a good stride. The road approached without warning; she nearly tripped over the guardrail but managed to swing over it just barely.
Emily exited the woods at a crossroads. A crossroads? A lonesome dirt path cutting through the road. In all her years, she’d never seen anything besides trees on this stretch. It set her hair on end.
A charging mass collided into her. Her head smacked against the cold asphalt, making the world shift and swirl.
“Stop bolting, jackass!” Sweat beaded down Jacob’s coal-black crew cut, one trailing almost to his pubey mustache. “You don’t get to just snitch and run.” His hands clawed her wrists. Hip pressed against…
Blinded by rage, she spat in his face. “Fuck you! I’ll kill you, bastard piece of—”
The world flashed white. The fuck, what, what…she wanted to vomit or scream but managed neither. She was dying, pretty sure, at least. For a moment, fur brushed her hands, and the sound of a dog panting bounced between her ears. Two eager red eyes stared her down whenever she shut her own. Smelled like tar and oil.
She groaned and shook off the weird ass hallucinations. Her left eye now saw the canopy in a shadowed blur.
Jacob scowled, eyes empty vats of tar. “Hey. Emily?” He hit her again, lighter this time, thank God. “That’s for ratting me out.”
She shuddered. A part of her jumped against the walls of her pounding skull to keep thrashing; the stronger part pinned that howling rage down and told it to shut up and stay still. “Stop it, stop…”
“I’ll stop it when you stop being a cunt. You got my knife taken away, it's fucking gone!” Jacob whined, “That was sixty dollars. Got it at the State Fair, one of a kind.”
A last bit of resistance broke free. “What you expect when you threatened Lucy with it?”
“Cause she was being a bitch.” He ground his teeth. “Spread rumors about me. Telling lies.” Breaths steadying, he leaned up and wiped a bit of snot from his nose, snorted the rest up.
Make nice and stop resisting. “Well, I, I’m sorry she did that. But that wasn’t me. I just, dude, you don’t bring a knife to school!”
“Yeah? You my Mama now?” He smirked and settled deeper in.
She was crying. Fuck, stop it, fucking pussy. Bitch.
Jacob sneered. “God, you look nasty.” He looked around at the six or so onlookers for reassurance.
Marcus kneeled next to Jacob, grinning at her, raking his hands through his cropped hair. “I don’t know, she’s gettin’ kinda cute.”
Her heart froze. “Wh-uh. Hey. Look. I’ll pay you back. I’ll steal cash from my Mama. Swear. I’m, I’m sorry, Jacob. I won’t do shit again.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
Through the trees, the sound of tires crunching over leaves broke through the wind.
She gritted her teeth together. Fucking faggot ass bitch motherf— “The fuck you want me to say?”
“Want you to beg,” Jacob sneered.
Headlights silhouetted the boys as a car turned the corner and screeched to a sudden halt. Emily craned her neck to see behind Jacob. A fancy-looking conversion van blinded them all with its headlights before the engine died. Door exploding open, two muddy boots slammed onto the pavement. Their owner, a tall bearded man, charged.
Jacob scrambled, giving Emily the space to kick his groin.
He howled, hands clutched around his balls.
The man caught him by his collar before he could retreat.
"Stop it!" Jacob shrieked, "Get your hands off me.”
“The fuck is your problem?”
Emily kept stock still. The tambor of the man's Southern accent felt like it’d shake her bones if he got any closer.
The back of the man’s hand crashed into Jacob’s face with a whip-like crack. “Fucking coward—hittin’ a girl like that. Don’t you have a mother, boy?”
“Shit, run, run!” The boys around her shakily slammed down on the pedals of their bikes and flew back down the road.
Jacob shivered, eyes downturned.
“Well?” the man yelled, “You got a mother? Yes or no.”
“Y-yeah.”
“Tell me her address right this second. Clearly, she’s been light on you. Little brat.”
“Uh, hey. Mister…” Emily got to her feet, knees buckling. “...Just, just let him go. It’s alright. Please, please don’t go to his folks.”
The man steadied his breaths. “What’s it to you?”
“We’re friends, right Jacob? Just, just had a disagreement, that's all.” She lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows.
Jacob's eyes widened. “Yeah! It's not anything like you think. We just got stupid and tussled, that's all.”
The man tilted his head over to her. “You sure?”
She nodded, chest tight. “Swear.”
He let go of Jacob and kicked him a bit away. “Still not right to hit a girl. Bitch-ass move if you ask me,” he called out.
Her heart fell. “Sorry, Jacob! Don’t be mad, I-I’ll pay you back,” she yelled.
Jacob glared before sprinting to his bike and taking off.
Heart pounding harder and harder against her ribs, she turned to the man and spat, “Shit, man! Why’d you go and fuck me over!”
The man flinched, eyes going wide. “Pardon?”
“You, you just, what have you done…” She paced back and forth, hands shoved into her pockets.
“Saved you from a bunch of jackals is what.” The man took a step toward her, then stopped. “Sorry, am I missing something? Those boys had no right—”
“What good did that do? Oh, big strong man, my hero—they’re in my class, dumbshit! All they’re gonna do is jump me harder next time. I don’t even know when, what they’re gonna...” Her mind went back to Marcus’ leering eyes. She stumbled back onto the guard rail, shaking.
“Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re okay.” The man walked up and put his hand on her shoulder. “Talk it through to me. What's goin’ on?” He glanced around. “Want me to drop you off at your Pa’s?”
“Don’t got a Daddy. Haven’t for a while.” Her bitter words slid out before she could stop herself—stupid brat.
“Ah. Alright, well, wherever’s home. If those boys are after you, I can give you a lift.”
She raised her head to give the man a proper inspection. His electric eyes flicked around her, zapping her with concern. He inspected her bruises and scrapes instead of her chest and waist. His eyebrows furrowed up, frowning lips half-hidden by a trimmed dirty blonde beard. She kept analyzing him, trying to suss him out. Her Creep-o-matic™ always gave her an answer in her gut. But she already felt it relax. He didn’t look like a creep.
Most the creeps in Roanoke were old and ugly, for one. Couldn’t get laid, so they went to the group they knew wouldn’t do shit back. This guy wasn’t ugly.
The tinted windows and dry mud covering the lower half of his van screamed ‘Molester Mobile.’ It also screamed camper.
“You want a ride or not?” The man tilted his head while squinting.
“Uh, I don’t know.” She held her arm and considered.
He retreated and put his hands in his pockets. “No worries, I know, stranger danger. Just, you gonna be okay on your own?”
He looked at her with wild eyes, soft for her but intense for everyone else. That wasn’t a look she was used to being pointed her way. “I, I don’t know.” She glanced down the hill. “My bikes over yond-uh, down the way you came. Maybe you could help me get it?”
He nodded. “Sure. Just let me drive down, and I’ll bring it back. You stay put.”
“Okay.” She shivered, the chill gusts finally overpowering her adrenaline.
The man pursed his lips, then went to his car and pulled something out. A bomber jacket, olive green. He threw it over. “Put that on, it's freezing out.”
She stared at the jacket, then up at the man. “Oh, it’s alright. You don’t gotta do all that.”
He walked back without a second glance back. “It’s fine; not mine anyways.”
Hesitant, she slid it on, nylon lining scratching against the thin wool cardigan her Mama insisted was good enough in the Virginia fall. It helped block out the winds; she zipped it up and buried her hands in the pockets. She watched him drive off.
He could have just walked, but Emily was glad he gave her time. Time to think, weigh her options. It was already hard to see. Soon, the dense canopy and pitch of night’d cover near every detail.
Being out in the Appalachian woods after dark wasn’t some grand violation of nature. Transplant friends loved spooky stories of the hordes o’ haints a fixin’ to invade your home. Oh, better pour salt ‘round the property line, bury piss-filled jars mixed with bloody nails and chant some Exorcist shit or you're gonna get it. Though some neighbors did swear by saltwater spray on the windowsills, Emily loathed any horseshit that made a monster out of her mountain.
She spent plenty of nights running down the deer trails and soaking in the softened sounds fine as could be. Most that tall tale haint and ‘squatch crap the older folks yammered on about was just bears and bobcats in heat, she reckoned. No, she loved the mountain any time of day, the real heart of her home.
But it was cold as all get out; the boys were probably regrouping somewhere to pounce. And the man seemed nice. Weirdly nice, no roughness about him. Didn’t sound local. Was that better or worse? To her, it felt leagues better.
In the end, it was the crossroads itself that made her mind up. The intersection made no sense with the steepness of the hill, yet when she looked at the dirt path it didn’t look off. It felt off, though. Her confusion meant navigating at night could, for once, prove a hazard.
The snazzy van pulled back up. After hopping out, the man carried her bike from the back and handed it to her. “Sorry if I spooked you, dear, weren’t trying to push you to do nothing. Hope you have a nice night.”
“Uh, wait.” Emily took one last glance at the dirt path before shooting up. Blood rushed out her head, making her wobble. “Can I? Get a ride, that is.”
"'Course." The man smiled without showing his teeth. “It’d be my pleasure.”