The Scales

Chapter 2 (Draft)

(The full novel is available on Amazon now: amazon.com/dp/B08128VN9N) 

2

"I knew something was wrong. I felt it in my bones. What in the heavens did you two do?" Ida Dorsey snapped. Her short frame filled the room with an air of dominance.

Serenity swallowed hard, like choking down a baseball. Her mother had that effect on everyone, though Serenity got it daily since Jerrod left for college. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to meet her mother's eyes. Doing so was like staring into a deep cave. You knew there was an end to the darkness in there somewhere, but no one dared to explore its depths.

Ida stared--no outrage, no chain of questions, no accusations. She didn't have to. The small room was filled by her presence, not even five and a half feet tall, but feeling like a colossus just the same. Her legs spread wide as if she was readying to tackle the largest football player in town, hands on hips, Ida Dorsey was a force that moved the world. Serenity fidgeted.

"Momma," Jerrod whined.

Serenity ground her teeth, wondering who he thought his act fooled. He was a grown man, a college student. Did he think this air of innocence fooled anyone? Nothing fooled Ida Dorsey, who folded her arms across her chest.

Serenity couldn't deny the sliver of pleasure she felt at his defeat, even though she had more important things on her mind right now.

Like that thing at the Scales.

Serenity spent the entire trip home trying to find the words to explain the monstrosity. But how did you explain something that shouldn't exist? She was still struggling with why the creature hadn't chased them down. The Gator wasn't that fast. In fact, it was a piece of garbage, beaten by years of joyriding abuse at the hands of Jerrod. If that thing had wanted to attack, it could have caught them.

What that monster was capable of doing to them wasn't something she needed to think about. If she did, the details of the trip to the Scales might just slip out, and admitting what happened at her only retreat in the world was the last thing on her to do list. She wasn't giving her mother any more ammunition. No sense in dwelling on it. They were safely home.

Ida stood like a mountain. The most powerful force in the room, The most powerful force in all of Rotisserie.

"The next time your lips part." Ida leaned toward Jerrod. "An explanation better fall out."

Outside, a lark chirped its own threat as Jerrod did the smartest thing at that moment; he stayed silent, a rare case of good judgment.

Serenity looked out at the brown front yard where Jerrod parked the Gator and shook her head. He wasn't thinking when he'd raced it to within feet of the house, skidding to a stop and leaving two trails in its wake. Did he not imagine, even for a second, driving like that would clue their mother that something was amiss? The entire race away from the Scales, she thought about what she would say. She needed to approach her mother with extreme caution unless she wanted to be watched like a hawk for the last few weeks of her high school life. Jerrod didn't have that concern, home temporarily from the stresses of college. He didn't give any consideration to the consequences.

"Serenity?" Ida possessed a laser focus with her gaze and her words. A cataclysmic combination. Serenity's throat clamped. Telling her mother what happened would be the end of her already-pathetic social life. Dodging Ida was such a chore though.

"We were at the Scales."

"What?" Ida's tone went icy. "I told you to stay away from there."

Jerrod burst into the conversation. "We were bored, and I'm an adult, Ma! I can do what I want."

"What did I tell you about the next thing that needs to fall out of your mouth?"

Jerrod retreated. Serenity wanted to shake her head but didn't dare move. "The both of you are way too old for us to be having this conversation... again. You do not go out there, got it? There is nothing at The Scales for you but trouble. Don't you remember Chancey Hoskins?"

Everyone remembered Chancey.

Chancey used to live in their neighborhood. A boy who didn't have a single remarkable thing about him, he became a legend nonetheless. For most parents, Chancey was a tragedy. To Ida, his sole purpose in life was to serve as the cautionary tale for the rest of Rotisserie's children. He'd gone to The Scales with his father, whom he hadn't seen for weeks because of divorce. It was a bonding trip, his father later said, but instead of growing closer, Chancey never came home.

He was climbing on a pile of rusted equipment when he slipped and fell, impaled by a jagged strip of twisted metal. Chancey's father swore his son didn't slip, but that something pulled him into the crevice.

Regardless, Ida stressed the danger behind Chancey's tragic story. Again. What was next? A parable about not talking to strangers or taking chocolate from men in vans? Leaving for college would be the end of Ida's oppressive mothering.

"We found something." Guilt forced out the admission.

Ida blinked. "Found what?"

Serenity rocked on her feet. How could she put words to what she didn't understand?

"Porkchop found an...animal in a dune. It hunted her, Ma," Jerrod said.

Serenity closed her eyes and grimaced, waiting for her mother's reaction. Stupid Jerrod!

"What?" Ida's yell reverberated down the hallway.

Serenity involuntarily backed away. "We don't know what it was, Ma. But we're okay. We weren't hurt, so it's no big deal."

"No big deal? The two of you acted like you'd seen the ghost of your Nanna when you rolled up in here. Don't tell me this isn't a big deal!" Ida rolled her top lip under her bottom, her fire stoked. "What did you see?"

How do I explain...that? A quick look at Jerrod confirmed he was as lost as she was.

"Whatever it was, it was massive," Serenity croaked.