American Elsewhere - By Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,59

and they begin to creep around the area the sound came from. As they pass through one glen Joseph looks up through the branches, and he sees something at the top of a tree, near the trunk. It is dark, but he thinks he sees the silhouette of a man, balanced perfectly on a high branch like a rooster on top of a barn. In the starlight Joseph thinks he can make out the edge of the man’s face, and while he can discern a nose and a mouth, he cannot see any ears, or eyes… as he looks closer, the dark figure shifts a little on the branch, settles back its shoulders, and it lifts its head, and as it does the horrible buzz fills the forest again.

Joseph feels his heart ratchet up its rate until he can feel his pulse in his eyes. The shadowy figure in the tree trembles as the buzz dies to a close, and he can see the thing begin looking around from the top of the tree, searching for intruders…

Gracie takes Joseph by the shoulder. “Come on,” she whispers. “Hurry.”

“I thought you said nothing in the woods would hurt you,” Joseph whispers back.

“I think so, but I don’t want to test that.”

They slip around the thing in the tree and come to a path down to the lake. The path is very steep, but Gracie seems to have no issue seeing in the dark, and with her to guide him Joseph has no problem. Soon the trees draw back and the lake emerges: it is not really a lake, but more of a pond, fed by an underground spring. It is long and thin, a gash in the mountain’s side. The waters are so still they are like a mirror, a puddle of stars among the rocks. On the far side is the elderly Miss Tucker’s house. He notes that she is awake, apparently without concern: all of her lights are on, and he can see her moving in the windows. But then, he has heard she has an arrangement, just like Gracie.

Gracie sits down on a stone shelf beside the lake, and Joseph joins her. “What is it?” he asks.

Gracie just stares at the pink moon in the skies. Then, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Joseph is startled by the question. He is not sure what to say. He has never even considered the question. He longs for her, needs her, yes, but that’s quite a bit different from love.

“I hope you do,” she says. “You are the only good thing in my life, Joseph. The only normal thing. The only thing that reminds me that I’m a person. My parents don’t, not anymore. Everything changed after they made my arrangement. And Mr. First… God. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking he’s… it’s…”

She falls quiet. Joseph watches apprehensively, not sure what to do. “What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone needs to know,” she says. “And I want to take care of you.” She steels herself. “You remember the last time you came to see me? When I went to go see Mr. First, and Mr. Macey caught us?

“Yes,” says Joseph, who honestly wishes he could forget it.

“They let me stay when they talked. I guess they didn’t think I could hear them, or understand them. It’s not… normal when they talk among themselves. They don’t talk like people.”

“I don’t know if I want to know this, Gracie,” Joseph says. “I know too much already. I know I used to laugh about things like that, but… but ever since Macey found us…”

“Macey doesn’t care,” she says.

“He doesn’t?”

“No. He has bigger things to worry about. He’s been walking out into the countryside, every night. I’ve seen him.”

“Why?”

“He’s been talking. Letting everyone know the news. Gossiping, I guess.”

“To who?”

“There are many of them that look like us, Joseph,” she says. “More than you think, probably. That’s what they’d all do, if they could—look like us. But some can’t. Like Mr. First. And others. And they can’t stay in town. They have to find their own way wherever they can.”

She looks into the waters. Joseph follows her gaze, staring into the starlit lake. It takes him a moment to realize he can see beyond its surface: there are rocks down there, spectral and silvery, and some plant life, like moss or reeds. But some of the plants do not look like reeds. They’re too fleshy, too pale. And they all seem connected to something,