Chapter 8

1. I gazed out the window as a blistering bolt blazed through the sky and struck the Silver Birch from its roots. This is no day to go to the woods. They're not haunted. Dave drivels nonsense, especially when Lee's around. 'Elma' Dave called her. Seriously? He said that she had an orphanage hidden in the woods, where she boiled the orphaned children alive and bathed in their blood. When the townsfolk caught her, they burnt her alive. He said you can still hear her blood-curdled screams at night. Nonsense. I looked to the right and there he was, thumping his feet as he walked, mud splattering up his striped joggers.

Drenched, Dave stood at the door. "Come on the Mike, let's get going."

"Just a minute, mate. I need to find my boots. I'm not going out there in my new trainers." I replied with a slight annoyance. Where are they?

"Mom," I yelled up the stairs. "I'm going out."

Mom yelled even louder. "Make sure you're back at 9 o'clock."

"I'm sixteen, mom," I shouted back, slamming the door on my way out.

I felt a redness fill my cheeks as Dave glanced a sly grin. Dave's got a shifty look in his eyes and with angst in his voice said, "Come on Mike. We need to meet Lee. He said to be there for six."

I still can't find my boots. I put my new trainers on. Mom's going to go mad when she finds out but what she doesn't know now can only hurt her later. We better hurry up though. Lee's unpredictable.

"Come on then Dave," I said with a huff.

We'd just got to the gated entrance of the nature reserve when I noticed a wavering light from a lamppost. There was a flyer there. Is that Buster?

"Hold on a second, Dave," I said. I didn't know he went missing. "That's John next door's dog. He used to love me giving him left-overs at Dad's barbeques."

A mocking voice, repeating what I said came from the bushes. At least the sky stopped pissing on us. Dave shivered.

"It's only a dog, Mikey," Said Dave.

"Yeah, but," I stuttered.

Lee interrupted, "Shut the fuck up and come on. And you Dave, did you get some fags from your dad?"

Dave quickly replied, "Yeah, mate. Here's a twenty box."

Dave's bottom lip trembled. He had a keenness in his dark eyes. As the light flashed, the freckles shone his beetroot face.

The sun dropped beneath the horizon as any last light was swallowed by the greyness of the sky. Dave and Lee were slightly ahead, talking quietly. Dave turned around with a wild look in his eyes. He's not acting himself. Maybe he is more scared than he lets on. Lee looked as grotesque as always, his eyeballs sunk even deeper inside his unnaturally swollen cheeks.

"Here we are," announced Lee.

"I'm not going first through the undergrowth." Said Dave.

"Michael, take your skinny arse and make a path for us. You're not scared of the witch, are you?" Lee mocked.

I didn't reply to that. I knew better not to. As we got further in, I could hear a faint cry.

"Did anyone else hear that?" I asked.

Dave and Lee now just behind had a giggle and seemed to share a joke.

"Stop being a baby and get on with it." Said Lee.

"Yeah. It's getting dark now and I can barely see anything" said Dave hesitantly.

The wind blew red leaves down which bounced off my clothes. I've never been this far into the woods. I can hear the water though so we must not be far from the river. I spotted a smoke filling the air and an unfamiliar smell. It stunk. It was like something had been left in the fridge to go moldy then set on fire.

"What's that smell?" I asked.

"Smoke" replied Lee.

I shook my head, stopping when I realized Dave was looking at me. As we got closer the smell got stronger. Now I could see it. It was dark here, but I could make out the grey ashes burnt to dust. Ok, this feels real now. I can feel my hands twitching, barely able to make a fist. Dave still looks terrified, but Lee, he is loving this.

"Shit. What's that over there?" Dave said in an unconvincing tone.

As I turned to look, I felt a nudge in my back. My head hit the mud and a sharp pain erupted in my face. I winced, unsure of the damage. The adrenaline rushed through my veins as I clawed my fingers into the floor.

"We didn't plan it like that." I vaguely heard, unsure who spoke.

I look up and there is no sign of Dave and Lee. I can't see much beyond the fire. Who makes a fire here? Another sick joke from Lee probably. I started to crawl and felt a sharp pain shoot up my left side, then I spotted a filthy, soaked blanket stained yellow and red. Something is underneath it. A rancid smell filled the air as I desperately tried to cover my nose. My left arm was no use now, but I must endure. I lift the blanket and a swarm of flies darts out. The smell consumes my nostrils and enters my taste buds, making me vomit over the blanket. My face hits the mud and I force my left hand to yank the blanket. Something wriggles out spurting jets of puss to my face. What is it? Blurry eyed, I squint. A brightness flashes on to the body as the words 'BUSTER' illuminate.

I gasp and muster the words, "Buster?"

A dark figure appears in front of me. I look up - all I see are two black holes staring and a mocking grin as the figure leers forward, "It's only a dog, Mikey."  

2. The translucent egg-shaped shuttle glided silently to the curb. A bright light flashed my face, causing my vision to blur and a second later a woman's gentle voice said, "Welcome aboard, Andrew."

The interior of the shuttle was Airbnb-sparse but inviting. I sat on the gray leather bench and pulled out my phone. There were several bottles of water next to a box of Kind bars and some succulents. Smooth jazz oozed from hidden speakers.

But the shuttle stayed stationary, and my phone was dead, a black rectangular void; the Company's shuttles were essentially rolling Faraday cages: no wireless service allowed. They had to be for what came next.

The mood lighting suddenly shifted to a spastic, woozy display of neon pinks, blues, and greens as an advertisement for the latest energy drink consumed the shuttle's interior. All trips via the Company's shuttles this month were subsidized by the energy drink. That's why they were so cheap. Next month would be underwritten by a dandruff shampoo. The month after that, the US Army.

The ad was way louder than it needed to be. The flashing, staccato lights were starting to make my eyes burn. I remember a time when you could skip after five seconds. I remember being able to opt out.

Eventually, the shuttle began to drive. It knew where I was going because it had all my metadata, including my search history. Over the course of the trip, I was bombarded with targeted ad after targeted ad. The shuttle's AR windshield became a tapestry of wish-fulfillment: images of my face on a more sculpted body in an ad for a barre class, an image of me with a beautiful woman purring about a dating app. Did I know there was available real estate in this neighborhood that was within my price range? My phone was still bricked. I tried shutting my eyes, but infrared sensors picked up on that and the shuttle slowed to a crawl. These ads were mandatory viewing.

Opening my eyes again, I was startled by the sudden appearance of a hologram of my mother on the armrest. "Don't forget to buy life insurance, darling," she wailed, her face frozen in anguish. The shuttle was using a funeral home photo plucked from my cloud as a reference for the hologram; I could tell because she'd never in her life worn that candy-apple-pink blush the mortician applied. The algorithm was primed to look for an old photo, but of course, the funeral home photo counted as old, all these years later. I flinched as her tiny, translucent hand reached for mine. Was I dreaming, or was it getting colder? "Fifteen minutes saves you 15 percent," she moaned.

My dead mother stayed with me until the end of the ride, imploring me to buy life insurance, Yankee candles, and a new air freshener called "Avocado Breeze." Finally, the ride concluded, and she morphed back to her reference photo before vanishing. I felt cold and wanted to step into the sun, but the shuttle door remained closed and locked, trapping me inside. Three more ads in exchange for my freedom.

The techno music began to peak, building and building and building. They were cramming in as many images as possible. It became an unreadable blur, but the tempo kept ascending. I felt dizzy, nauseous, near death. In despair, I waited for the beat to drop. Finally, I implored it to, screaming at the flashing screens, begging for relief. But it never came.