Part 1

It was past midnight when Segun began to pack his things in the gloom of his bedroom. A fish tank in the corner cast a wavy purple glow across the walls, green aquatic plants shimmering in the clear water while small dark fish circled the tank. He looked at his rock collections scattered along his shelves, maps pinned on the walls he had traced from textbooks, and history literature on his shelves, and a stone began to form in his chest. He did not bother to make the bed, one pillow was on the floor, and extra clothes were tossed over the desk chair. He tried to imagine the sorrow in his chest as a balloon he could release into the night, never to bother him again.

Segun looked away and opened the bedroom window, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and jumped onto the roof below. He walked low across the garage roof to the drain pipe and gripped it on his climb to the ground. He hit the grass with a heavy thud and paused in place, waiting to see if he had awoken his father. Everything remained still. He got to his feet and pulled the chain off his bike that was leaning against the fence.

Segun looked down the street as he turned off the sidewalk. Lampposts stood in even division down both sides of the street, a wide sidewalk sticky with matted autumn leaves. Cars were parked in driveways, trash bins out on the curb, and nothing moved among the pine trees speckled across the front lawns and backyards. His backpack bounced behind him as he started pedaling fast to speed through the stop sign at the end of the street. He focused on the feeling of his heart thumping against his chest, fingers tightly gripping the rubber handles of the mountain bike. He lifted off the seat and let the cool air wash through his thick curly hair. His loss of attention almost brought him into a lamppost and he swerved to miss it, dragging onto the curb, and running into a trashcan that cast rotting garbage across the pavement. Segun stumbled out of the mess, pushing his bike upward, trying to rid himself of moldy ice cream sandwich wrappers and used napkins.

He passed the elementary school as he turned down Northeast Dunand Trail, the building long and dark, hilled background behind lit by the moonlight. The sign out front held faded letters announcing parent-teacher conferences next week, the structure coated in uneven white paint from the vandalism performed by middle schoolers over the years.

He began to petal faster.

Segun passed the gas station at the corner of South Sard Croft where a street lamp cast a yellow ray on the sidewalk, fuzzy blue glow of a sign in the window. The lights inside were on, giving a view to the few rows of snacks and candy, bottled soda in the back.

The first day Segun moved to town he took his bike and rode down every street, making a map of his new surroundings. It had not been his choice to come here—it had been no one's choice—but with his mother back in Harmony Heights Mental Institution for the 4th time this year, it was clear she could not take care of him or herself. With no one else to take him in, he was forced to move in with his father, a man he had not seen in 6 years and who lived halfway across the country. Segun was used to cramped streets and busy shopping centers, long varieties of takeout and places open past 8 p.m. He was disappointed when he mapped out the town in a single afternoon, realizing the minimalism of his environment. He was not used to so many trees and commented to the gas station attendant when he stopped in to buy a soda.

"These aren't just any old trees," said the attendant. He was in his early 20's, acne still pestering his features, his sclera stained red.

"Oh really?" said Segun with fabricated interest.

"You're not from here, are you? Go out there in the middle of the night. Go far enough until you can't see the town lights anymore, and you'll see some weird stuff. People here are in denial. They think if they ignore it, it will not bother them."

"What's 'it'?"

"You have to find that out for yourself."

Segun was not impressed with the man's claim, paid for the soda, and biked back to his father's place before he came home from work.

He could see the same attendant at the station as he biked past, head down on the counter with earbuds stuffed in his ears.

Segun turned his bike light on when he hit the road that led out of town. Massive pine trees lined his path, large black spikes in a dark backdrop. Small nocturnal insects fluttered through the cool air and the clouds rolled slowly overhead, gaps allowing momentary bounces of moonlight onto the road. A beam of light gave way to the cracked road, the divider paint faded and the surface rough enough to bounce his bike slightly as he tried to pick up more speed. His horizon sat before him and he felt a rush of energy coursing through his muscles.

He was not sure how long he had been biking when Segun finally looked back, the town only a few small specs of light in the dark. His heart had been pulsing for so long that he did not realize he was tired. Segun slowed his pace, cruising down the empty road as it began to curve through the landscape. He rested back on the seat and removed his hands from the handlebars, letting a breeze catch beneath his unzipped jacket.

Movement caught Segun's attention amongst the trees, his eyes following down the road and up to the sky where a barred owl was stretching its wings across the clouds. As he continued to watch the woods, he saw other shapes among the trees—shapes that cut through the pine needles with long, human-like bodies. He could suddenly hear sounds like scampering feet beside him, and Segan began to collect an unsettling feeling in his gut. He shook his head. Imagination. He did not want to stop and hoped he would be coming to the fork in the road soon that would lead him to another town 5 more miles away. He told himself to continue, keep his heart rate steady, and save his energy so he could make it to a motel. He turned his attention to the road and tried to keep it there.

Throughout his entire ride, Segun had not seen a single car, so when he saw headlights coming towards him he tried to control the unsettlement wiggling beneath his skin and pulled as far to the side of the road as he could. He kept his head down as a dark SUV rolled by, tires worn as it rapped across the cement. Segun was telling himself not to panic after the car had passed, but the hair on the back of his neck began to rise when he saw the red brake lights flash behind him. He continued to petal as he looked back, seeing the car make a large U-turn and sped towards him.

Segun jumped into full gear, moving his legs as fast as he could, the headlights behind him growing quickly. He could feel the car approaching, heat rushing behind him and bright lights blaring. Suddenly, he shut off his bike light and swerved off the road and into the trees. He did not look back as he peddled over the dense roots and piles of pine needles. Small patches of moonlight flickered through the needles, Segun moving in and out of the shadows, refusing to stop. He thought he could hear footsteps behind him, but he told himself it was his pulse pounding in his ears. He refused to look back. 

Suddenly, the sky opened above him and Segun realized he had been biking towards a cliff. The steep incline took hold of the bike before he could stop the wheels, spinning swiftly before a rock caught the front wheel and he went flying through the air. He was not sure how far he had fallen before he felt an explosion of pain erupt from his back, sure something was broken as he continued to tumble head over heels. He kept rolling as the incline leveled out, finally stopping on a flat dirt road centered in the middle of nowhere.

Segun tried to catch his breath with his face pressed against the dirt. He wiggled his fingers and toes, surprised he could move them, though they felt numb and inflexible. After a moment of groaning, he pushed himself to his feet, aches deepening across his body. His bike came sliding down the cliff, landing on the dirt road with a broken handlebar and one wheel. His backpack had landed beside him, torn in the fall, and most of his things scattered down the cliff. His wallet and a flashlight were the only things that had made it down the incline in one piece.

Moonlight breached between the clouds, lighting the road. There was a small path that led to a sign cast in shadow. Segun grabbed his wallet and the flashlight, an impulse taking over that forced him down the road. It was a sensation new to him, feeling like his body was doing something his mind was telling him not to do. But he kept walking, following the moonlight until he could see a sign planted ahead.

Thoughts cycled through his mind as he limped towards the sign, wondering what he was supposed to do next. He had a map in his backpack, but it had been lost in the fall, likely ripped to shreds. He saw lights in the dark and walked slowly, body crying out in pain, head throbbing, and a terrible feeling making him shiver as he approached the sign and turned on the flashlight.

Welcome to the Quartermaster Tavern was painted across the sign, faint orange lights behind the letters that helped him see it in the dark. There was a thin path that led to the lights that shone through the windows of the 3-story tavern. A dark roofing pointed sharply to the sky, dense black smoke swirling from a chimney. The walls were made of bricks, a deep purple shade that blended into the night.

Segun trembled at the thought of warmth, feeling his body begin to freeze more by the second. He walked quickly towards the front door; eyes sharp on the destination in front of him.

Knock-out roses were growing along the perimeter, leaves and flowers larger than any Segun had ever seen. There was an eastern redbud growing beside the entrance. Strange hydrangeas grew in dirt-filled barrels, their red and orange flowers like nothing Segun had ever seen. Serviceberry shrubs grew along the thin path to the front door, leaves growing into one another like a small hedge. There was no parking lot or cars, the building perfectly quiet and could have easily been missed by a wandering eye had there been no lights in the windows. The doors were made of thick oak almost as dark as the brick walls, a large elk skull mounted above.

The moment Segun opened the doors he felt a rush of warmth brush over him. His head felt dizzy for a moment as he looked around the gently lit space. Intricate rugs covered the wood floors, a lounge located down a hall mounted with animal skulls where tables were scattered and a fire cackled in a corner. Lackluster lights were placed along the walls, casting shadows across the floor.

"Welcome to the Quartermaster Tavern, young man."

Segun whipped his head to the left where a man sat behind a desk carved of rubberwood. There was a thin monitor on the desk of a sleek design Segun did not recognize, the surface bare otherwise. The man behind the counter looked at him with an inquisitive look, large eyes the color of red bricks with skin pale enough to bounce light from the surface. His smile was much too wide and he looked too happy to see Segun.

"Yeah…umm…" Segan stuttered as he looked from the man to his pockets, searching for his wallet. He cleared his throat and tried to find some words that could get him some rest. "Do you have any rooms for the night?"

"We do," said the man with a wide grin, turning to the monitor. "One moment."

Segun looked back at the lounge, trying to make out the faces of any of the customers. There was a shimmer of light coming from the fire, but it only gently filled the room, smoke circling the air as he saw one man lounging in a chair with a fat cigar between his fingers. His head was turned down, looking at a newspaper in his lap. There was a woman at one of the tables eating something on a porcelain white plate, but shadow coated her expression. All faces were blocked in one way or another from his view.

"That will be one fifty for the night," said the receptionist, pulling back Segun's attention.

He looked at the man with a frustrated expression at the price. He had taken out all the money from his father's wallet as well as the stash he kept in his closet but knew he'd need to preserve everything as best he could. But he knew what he needed was a place to rest, and the tavern was hard to refuse. He felt exhaustion flood through him again and he pulled the cash from his wallet.

The receptionist handed him a key with a smile. "Room 207. Up two flights of stairs, second door on the right. The lounge is open 24 hours, the bar closes at 2 am, and food is served from 6 am to 11 pm."

Segun thanked him in a low voice and walked down the skull-decorated hall to the stairs that began just before the opening of the lounge. The receptionist watched him until he was out of sight and Segun wanted to erase that man's expression from his memory.

Sounds echoed from the doors; a long hall lined with rooms that he had to walk through to get to the next flight of stairs to the 3rd floor. The doors were spaced unevenly, and there was a small hall on the other side of the stairs as well. Some had light seeping through the cracks, others hauntingly quiet. The same dim lighting was cast across the halls, and Segun rushed down the hall to get to the next floor, the sounds sending chills down his back. He did not stop his hurried steps until he was behind the door of room 207.

In the room was a small white desk, a dresser, and a simple bathroom. There was a single window covered with long dark curtains. A lamp made out of deer antlers stood by the bed and the large head of a grizzly bear growled over the twin-sized bed.

Segun approached the window, looking out at the rustling woods that surrounded him. He could hear the wind beginning to pick up, feeling the strain of the tavern as the gusts pulled at the foundation. He shivered at the thought of still being stuck out in the cold and the dark, rubbing his arms as he moved in front of the heater against the wall. He eventually went into the bathroom, turning on poorly hot water for a quick shower, not thinking it odd that there was no mirror. The steam helped him relax but increased his drowsiness. He had wanted to take a look at his arms and torso, identify where the bruises were, and what wounds may still be leaking his blood, but he had no energy left. He was asleep the moment his head hit his pillow.