The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [81]
“Don’t try to run again or you’re dead,” he whispered in my ear. He guided me toward his red sports car. “Now get in.”
He opened the passenger door to the red sports car and I did as I was told, fear swelling inside of me like a teacup being filled with a garden hose. I’d never been more scared in my whole life. I was too scared to even try to think of a way out of this.
He got in the car and started driving. I had no idea where he was headed, but it was out near the edge of town. He headed past the Walmart and just kept going. I looked out the window as a farm field passed by. I kept imagining Staples making me dig my own grave out in some farmer’s deserted cow pasture. Imagining your own death has a way of making you feel pretty sick.
Chapter 26
After driving in silence for a few minutes, Staples took out his phone.
“Yeah, PJ. I need you to meet me out at the Yard. We’ve got something to take care of.”
I heard PJ’s muffled reply but couldn’t make out the words.
“I don’t care who’s over at your house. This is more important than any girl, you idiot. Now get the other three and get out here!” I couldn’t be sure, but behind it all I thought I heard uncertainty or maybe even fear in Staples’s voice.
So we were going to the Yard. The Yard is this vacant dirt lot a few miles out of town where teenagers go to scare themselves to death on Halloween and drink themselves passed-out on other Saturday nights. Vince’s brother had told us about it. It’s full of junk and weeds and old cars and nobody cares enough about it to ever go out there and clean up. As far as I know, nobody even knows who owns the land. Rumor was that they were going to build a bunch of houses out there but had to stop because the land is supposedly haunted. I guess when they started digging up the land, a bunch of bad stuff happened. Like, the machines stopped working and it rained a lot, but it rained only out in the Yard and nowhere else. Also, supposedly accidents kept happening and the workers were getting hurt and hearing voices and stuff. I never did believe those stories. Still, you couldn’t have paid me to go out to the Yard alone in the middle of the night.
I did think it was fitting that I would probably end up haunting the place myself pretty soon. It was partially my fault; this was the business I’d chosen. But I wasn’t ready to just give up, not by a long shot.
I shifted in my seat.
“Don’t try anything.” Staples said. “Stop moving so much.”
After a few more minutes he turned the car on to a gravel road. Then after about a hundred feet he turned into a massive dirt lot. There was garbage littered all around, and a few abandoned cars rested under some trees on the far side of the dirt clearing. We were at the Yard. It looked just like I’d heard: a stretch of land that had been leveled for construction years ago and then was just abandoned overnight. Maybe those ghost rumors weren’t just rumors after all.
Staples got out of the car. He opened my door, pulled me out, and dragged me across the hard, hot dirt by my foot. He stopped about thirty feet away from the car and dropped my leg. I was pretty sure my back had gotten all scratched up, but I was so scared I barely noticed.
“What do you have to say now, Christian?” He smirked.
“Nice car,” I said, figuring that going out a smart-mouth would be much cooler than as a whimpering crybaby.
Staples didn’t get mad, though. Instead he laughed as he sat down on an old tire. I was just starting to realize that he laughed a lot.
We waited in silence for a while. I sat on the ground and squinted up at some clouds. Maybe he wouldn’t kill me after all. I mean, that would be pretty ridiculous. Then again, what else could happen? One thing was sure: I was on my own. None of my crew knew where I was and I had no way to tell them. Even if they did call the cops, they’d never find us out here.
Eventually PJ’s black Honda came crackling into the Yard. PJ and the other three high school kids climbed out and walked over