Weaver of Darkness

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Ben fixed his smock as he walked down the canned food aisle. How could Sarah feel like that? Why was her attention always someplace else?

He stopped, straightening a few cans on the shelf. He was used to her always being with some other guy, but for her to treat him like she did, that was new.

Maybe Sarah really did like this one.

He frowned. He didn't want to think about that. It would only ruin his mood for the rest of the evening. He checked his watch. Six pm. Three more hours, then he could head home and continue wallowing in his pain as he finished his homework.

He headed up front and grabbed the broom.

"Hey, Ben," Jackie, the night checker, called to him. "I'm out of plastic bags. Do you think you could grab some from the back?" She smiled sweetly at him, batting her eyelashes.

He laughed, putting the broom down. "Sure. No problem."

"Thank you. You're so sweet."

He blushed. "I'll be right back," he called, heading into the aisles.

Maybe he was stuck on the wrong girl. Maybe he should give up on Sarah. There was no way she was ever going to think of him as anything other than a friend. He should look for someone else.

Maybe Jackie? She was always flirting with him.

He turned the corner, daydreaming of what might be and collided with something. "Oh, excuse me. I'm so sorry, sir," he muttered, embarrassed when he realized he had run into a customer. "Are you okay?"

The guy turned around, staring at him with intense eyes.

He'd never seen that blue of eyes on a person before. It was like the crystal depths of the frozen arctic had melted and pooled in this guy's face.

"I'm really sorry," Ben spoke, trying to breathe. The world threatened to go dark as all the events of the last few days poured through his mind. There was something different about this guy. He gave off the air of something dangerous, something feral

Was this the one who was after Liss? Was he the monster that killed Andy?

Ben backed up as the guy stared at him, the twin pools boring into his soul. "Sorry," he muttered again, walking past him.

"You should be more careful."

The guy's words echoed in Ben's ears as he made his way into the backroom of the store. He pushed through the metal swinging doors and turned a corner, where he stopped and leaned against the wall.

"Breathe," he whispered to himself, his body desperately trying to suck in the oxygen around him. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, as he tried to stop his heart from pounding a hole through his chest. He'd never been this terrified before in his whole life.

Well, once, at that woman's shop. She'd spoken of a shadow walking behind him, but that had been only for show, right? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Part of him doubted Liss' tale. Dead people coming back? Mirrors exploding from the wall? Some dark being coming for a teenage girl from Night Oak? Stuff like that didn't happen.

He looked at his trembling hands. He'd been wrong. When he looked into those eyes, he knew everything Liss spoke of was true. Even the things she'd left unspoken now rang true with perfect clarity.

They were all in trouble. All of Night Oak would bow down in the wake of what was to come. Ben took a deep breath and looked around. Hiding in the back room wasn't going to do any good. When this thing decided to come for him, it wouldn't matter where he hid.

He stepped away from the wall as a strange calm swept over him. What Fate had planned, would happen no matter what he did. All he needed to worry about was the here and now.

He walked to the storage room, next to the loading doors. He needed to get bags for Jackie.

He didn't know what else his future might hold, but he'd make sure working the rest of his shift was first. He grabbed the box of bags and stepped out of the room. With grim determination, he placed the box under his arm and started back to the floor.

The loading doors shook as if God himself decided he wanted in. Ben jumped, causing the box to slip to the ground. He stared at the doors for a second, but they remained still.

Nervously, he bent over and picked up the box. "Must have been the wind," he whispered. "That's all."

He started walking, keeping his eyes on the doors. He felt as if the air around him had turned to glue. It clung to his arms like a drowning man seeking purchase. His breathing slowed to a raspy sigh as his legs came to a stop.

He eyed the doors, breathing as shallowly as he could. He forced his arms to drop the box. "You want me to see something?" he tried to yell, but only managed a hoarse whisper. "Fine. I'm here. Show me."

The doors crashed open, wind whipping through the corridor. It sent boxes flying in all directions. As the wind swept across Ben, the breath surged back into his lungs. Relief washed through him as he took a step forward. The crisp night air outside beckoned him.

A crisp chill surrounded him as he crept forward. It reminded him of peppermint ice cream, thick and creamy with a stab of ice that you longed for again and again. It was the ice cream his grandmother always made for him.

Stopping in the doorway, he inhaled deeply. Breathing never felt so good. He smiled as the chill surrounded him again, wrapping him in arms of ice, like a mother welcoming her child home.

He closed his eyes and felt himself become unanchored. He wanted to drift away, to follow the minty coolness that called to him. He would become the chill. He was ready to follow where it might lead.

A trash can lid skittered across the ground. The metal groaned as it rubbed the asphalt.

Ben's eyes snapped open. What was he doing? His gaze darted to the dumpster where the lid came from. A shadow ducked behind it, merging with the darkness.

He recoiled in horror. What had he been thinking? Was he really so ready to hand himself over? "I don't think so," he shouted into the dark alley. "You tried to take me, but it didn't work."

Watching the dumpster, he waited for the shadow to make another move. "I'm not scared of you. That's the way you like to play, isn't it? You like to taste the fear." Shaking his head, he turned back to the store. "All you offer is death, and I'm not afraid of it. Not anymore. When my time comes, I'll go to it with my head held high. But," he said, shutting the doors, "now is not my time."

Padlocking the door, he smiled to himself. He wasn't afraid anymore. When his time came, he'd spend eternity with the mint. It was that simple. Grabbing the box, Ben headed to the sales floor. He had work to do.