Trials of Emersten
Chapter 1
We had been driving for hours, only stopping when absolutely needed. After the funeral, Dad had piled us into the over-packed SUV as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so, giving his sister, Teresa, one final death-grip of a hug and a quick, strained “thank you” before taking his place behind the wheel. We had been on the road now for a good 12 hours, and no one had spoken since Dad's half hour long rant about how “this change would be good for us” and how “the new scenery would make us forget faster, and, in turn, make living a normal life that much easier for us.” Since then, the silence had been nothing, if not palpable.
Dad didn't seem to get it. He didn't seem to think that maybe some of us didn't want to forget. That maybe some of us didn't want to leave the lives we had just because Mom was no longer there to share it with us. But you try telling Dad that. You try telling Dad that it wasn't bad enough that Mom had to die, so lets take everything else we knew away, too. It wouldn't have done us any good if we had, because once Dad makes up his mind, that's it—it's final. That's how he's always been. So when Dad told us that after the funeral we were moving, Danny and I packed up our things, said our good-byes, and climbed in the car without argument—without saying anything, really.
It was dark now. The rain had subsided, leaving the roads slick and the sky covered in clouds. From the back, I could hear my brothers quiet snores—the ones he got only when he was sleeping uncomfortably. Smiling weakly to myself, I unbuckled my seatbelt, grabbed up the pillow I had by my feet in case I got tired, and turned around in my seat so I could stuff the white, fluffy padding under Danny's head and cease his nasal motor. I may find his snoring mildly entertaining, but it just wasn't worth Danny's grumpy attitude that usually followed when he slept uncomfortably—at least today it wasn't. While I was back there, I decided I'd be nice and grab both my father and I something to drink. Unfortunately, Danny gets really bored on long car rides so now, all the items he had been using to entertain himself and eventually discarded, sat piled on top of the cooler on the floor in front of the seat next to him.
I let out a deep, semi-frustrated sigh, and began to demountainify the small, red and white box. After about five minutes of throwing random things random places, and grabbing the back of Dad's seat to steady myself a few times as he hit various sized bumps in the road, I was finally able to pull open the lid of the cooler. Most of the ice had long since melted, so I gabbed a handful of paper towels off the roll next to Danny's feet and dried off a still-cool bottle of water that I had pulled out. As I twisted in my seat to place my water in one of the empty cup holders in the front, I asked Dad if there was anything he'd like me to grab out for him.
Jumping slightly at the sound of my unused voice, he cleared his throat before saying, “Uh, yeah, sure. Coke please—I could use the caffeine.” He chuckled slightly at this, while I simply nodded.
Paper towel still clutched in one hand, I twisted back around and plunged my free arm into the cold depths of the ice water, searching for my dad's preferred drink. After a few failed attempts, the red can was just about to break the surface when the car jerked to the left, flinging the soda out of my hand as my dad yelled, “Hold on, Cassie!” over the screech of the tires. The can hit the side of the cooler before dropping back down into the icy pool, but not before a good amount of water was splashed in my brother's direction, making him jolt awake with a sharp intake of air. Quickly registering the dangerous movements of the car, Danny abruptly grabbed my upper arms, bracing me as our vehicle finally came to a stop.
“What the hell, Dad?!” he yelled, still holding me steady as I greedily sucked in the air I didn't realize I had been keeping from my lungs.
Dad seemed just as out of breath as I was when he answered Danny's question, as Danny, himself, scanned the area outside the car for any probable cause for his rude awakening. “I...I saw...a m-man...run across...being ch-chased...by big...d-dog...wolf...like...th-thing,” he managed to gasp out.
“What are you talking about? There's nothing even out there—there's barely even any trees!” Danny screamed back incredulously.
“Don't you take that tone with me, young man. I know what I saw,” Dad scolded, his breath seeming to have caught up with him. He glanced at me then, still being held up by my brother, and his tone softened. “Come on, Cass, turn around and buckle up. Are you all right?”
I stayed where I was while I thought about his question and how to answer it. I thought about what happened which, in turn, made me think of the only other accident [even though this one really wasn't an accident] I had been in. The one that had killed mom:
***
I had stayed late after school, for band; I play the flute. We had been practicing for this small, rather meaningless concert that was scheduled for the weekend. Ms. Deacon, the band teacher, obviously, wanted us too do our best, so practice ran a bit longer than usual and the late buses had already left. I called Mom and she came and picked me up on her way home from work. She told me that after I called her, she had decided to call up and order a pizza, so we had to swing by and pick that up before we headed home, as well. We pulled in the parking lot, I went in, paid for the pizza, and brought it out. We were about five minutes from home, passing the last light before our turn off, when some idiot to our left decided to run a red light—they slammed right into Mom's side of the car. Me and the passenger in the back of the other car were the only ones to survive; me, with only a few scars from where glass had lodged in my skin and I had to get stitched.
***
Now, I've never really been much of a crier, but, seeing as how realizing ones mortality is a pretty emotional thing, it should come as no surprise that I bust into tears right there. Danny quickly released his grip on my upper arms, instead, choosing to embrace me tightly over the headrest while I clung to the front of his band-tee and cried my eyes out in the crook of his neck.
We sat like that for another fifteen minutes as both he and my father tried to comfort me and calm me down. Finally I was able to compose myself enough that I was able to sit back down in my seat and put my safety belt on, and we were soon back on the road. We drove for about ten minutes before we came to an exit, which Dad took in hopes of finding someplace to finish out the night—we were all still shaken from what happened, and Dad didn't want to be on the road like that, though he said were were pretty close to our new home, now.
We pulled into a Howard Johnson and got a standard room with two full-sized beds. As soon as we got to our room, Dad collapsed on the bed nearest to the door and was out in a matter of minutes. Danny, now that he was awake, changed into some dry clothes and left the room in search of a vending machine. I took advantage of the quiet room to curl up on the unoccupied bed and finish a few pages of the current book I was reading—some vampire-mystery novel. Some times it's good to just leave your problems in the real world for a while and dive into something that could never happen (because, let's face it, vampires don't exist). Unfortunately, I didn't get very far before I passed out from the sheer exhaustion that only a good crying spell can bring on.
Dad didn't seem to get it. He didn't seem to think that maybe some of us didn't want to forget. That maybe some of us didn't want to leave the lives we had just because Mom was no longer there to share it with us. But you try telling Dad that. You try telling Dad that it wasn't bad enough that Mom had to die, so lets take everything else we knew away, too. It wouldn't have done us any good if we had, because once Dad makes up his mind, that's it—it's final. That's how he's always been. So when Dad told us that after the funeral we were moving, Danny and I packed up our things, said our good-byes, and climbed in the car without argument—without saying anything, really.
It was dark now. The rain had subsided, leaving the roads slick and the sky covered in clouds. From the back, I could hear my brothers quiet snores—the ones he got only when he was sleeping uncomfortably. Smiling weakly to myself, I unbuckled my seatbelt, grabbed up the pillow I had by my feet in case I got tired, and turned around in my seat so I could stuff the white, fluffy padding under Danny's head and cease his nasal motor. I may find his snoring mildly entertaining, but it just wasn't worth Danny's grumpy attitude that usually followed when he slept uncomfortably—at least today it wasn't. While I was back there, I decided I'd be nice and grab both my father and I something to drink. Unfortunately, Danny gets really bored on long car rides so now, all the items he had been using to entertain himself and eventually discarded, sat piled on top of the cooler on the floor in front of the seat next to him.
I let out a deep, semi-frustrated sigh, and began to demountainify the small, red and white box. After about five minutes of throwing random things random places, and grabbing the back of Dad's seat to steady myself a few times as he hit various sized bumps in the road, I was finally able to pull open the lid of the cooler. Most of the ice had long since melted, so I gabbed a handful of paper towels off the roll next to Danny's feet and dried off a still-cool bottle of water that I had pulled out. As I twisted in my seat to place my water in one of the empty cup holders in the front, I asked Dad if there was anything he'd like me to grab out for him.
Jumping slightly at the sound of my unused voice, he cleared his throat before saying, “Uh, yeah, sure. Coke please—I could use the caffeine.” He chuckled slightly at this, while I simply nodded.
Paper towel still clutched in one hand, I twisted back around and plunged my free arm into the cold depths of the ice water, searching for my dad's preferred drink. After a few failed attempts, the red can was just about to break the surface when the car jerked to the left, flinging the soda out of my hand as my dad yelled, “Hold on, Cassie!” over the screech of the tires. The can hit the side of the cooler before dropping back down into the icy pool, but not before a good amount of water was splashed in my brother's direction, making him jolt awake with a sharp intake of air. Quickly registering the dangerous movements of the car, Danny abruptly grabbed my upper arms, bracing me as our vehicle finally came to a stop.
“What the hell, Dad?!” he yelled, still holding me steady as I greedily sucked in the air I didn't realize I had been keeping from my lungs.
Dad seemed just as out of breath as I was when he answered Danny's question, as Danny, himself, scanned the area outside the car for any probable cause for his rude awakening. “I...I saw...a m-man...run across...being ch-chased...by big...d-dog...wolf...like...th-thing,” he managed to gasp out.
“What are you talking about? There's nothing even out there—there's barely even any trees!” Danny screamed back incredulously.
“Don't you take that tone with me, young man. I know what I saw,” Dad scolded, his breath seeming to have caught up with him. He glanced at me then, still being held up by my brother, and his tone softened. “Come on, Cass, turn around and buckle up. Are you all right?”
I stayed where I was while I thought about his question and how to answer it. I thought about what happened which, in turn, made me think of the only other accident [even though this one really wasn't an accident] I had been in. The one that had killed mom:
***
I had stayed late after school, for band; I play the flute. We had been practicing for this small, rather meaningless concert that was scheduled for the weekend. Ms. Deacon, the band teacher, obviously, wanted us too do our best, so practice ran a bit longer than usual and the late buses had already left. I called Mom and she came and picked me up on her way home from work. She told me that after I called her, she had decided to call up and order a pizza, so we had to swing by and pick that up before we headed home, as well. We pulled in the parking lot, I went in, paid for the pizza, and brought it out. We were about five minutes from home, passing the last light before our turn off, when some idiot to our left decided to run a red light—they slammed right into Mom's side of the car. Me and the passenger in the back of the other car were the only ones to survive; me, with only a few scars from where glass had lodged in my skin and I had to get stitched.
***
Now, I've never really been much of a crier, but, seeing as how realizing ones mortality is a pretty emotional thing, it should come as no surprise that I bust into tears right there. Danny quickly released his grip on my upper arms, instead, choosing to embrace me tightly over the headrest while I clung to the front of his band-tee and cried my eyes out in the crook of his neck.
We sat like that for another fifteen minutes as both he and my father tried to comfort me and calm me down. Finally I was able to compose myself enough that I was able to sit back down in my seat and put my safety belt on, and we were soon back on the road. We drove for about ten minutes before we came to an exit, which Dad took in hopes of finding someplace to finish out the night—we were all still shaken from what happened, and Dad didn't want to be on the road like that, though he said were were pretty close to our new home, now.
We pulled into a Howard Johnson and got a standard room with two full-sized beds. As soon as we got to our room, Dad collapsed on the bed nearest to the door and was out in a matter of minutes. Danny, now that he was awake, changed into some dry clothes and left the room in search of a vending machine. I took advantage of the quiet room to curl up on the unoccupied bed and finish a few pages of the current book I was reading—some vampire-mystery novel. Some times it's good to just leave your problems in the real world for a while and dive into something that could never happen (because, let's face it, vampires don't exist). Unfortunately, I didn't get very far before I passed out from the sheer exhaustion that only a good crying spell can bring on.
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