Company's Coming, Dear by Imajiru imajiru@mindspring.com imajiru@unicorn-x.net September 18, 1995 {{Flashback: oh, I dunno, fifteen, twenty years ago?}} It was a perfect sunny Saturday, and all her friends were getting together to hang out and listen to the new Anna Lydell album; and what was her fate? She was stuck with Tray-ceeee, annoying little Tracy who was years too young to be interesting company. Her parents expected it of them both, to spend time with their friends' children when they were entertaining -- but Richie was off the hook this time, because Tracy was a girl; he was off with *his* friends, he didn't have to waste a weekend afternoon playing hostess to an eight-year-old. Borrrrrrring... Grumbling, Natalie finished brushing her hair and headed downstairs to face the music. Her mother shot her a brief 'did-you-have-to-wear-those old jeans?' glance as she came down the stairs. And yes, just as she'd expected, little Tracy was all ribbons and bows and pink ruffles, the type of girlish girl Natalie despised. "I'm sure the girls will have fun together," said her mom to Mrs. Vedder, and for just a moment, Nat wished she dared utter one of the forbidden curse words that was running through her mind. She ushered Tracy upstairs, letting her face show the disgust she felt at the situation just as soon as she was away from her mother's sharp-eyed scrutiny. "So," she muttered, "whaddaya want to do?" "I dunno," said the blond girl, and her voice was at least as glum as Natalie's. "There's not much I *can* do, dressed like this," and she tugged at her frilly dress with distaste. "I hate it when they make me get all dressed up!" "Yeah, me too," Nat sympathized, beginning to feel the smallest hint of empathy; it was obvious that Tracy wasn't any happier about their enforced companionship than she herself was. Somehow, that made it easier. "You could borrow something of Richie's," she offered, "you'd fit into his clothes, I think. And then we could go outside, maybe out to the creek," for she had no intention of bringing Tracy around to any of the places her friends might have been; that was all she needed, to be seen hanging around with a child... The other girl thought about it, shrugged. "Okay," she said unenthusiastically. ------- Wearing normal tomboy-type clothes, climbing around on the boulders down by the creek, Tracy was a much easier pill to swallow; she seemed less like a spun-sugar confection than a real person. If she'd been a decent age -- say, fourteen instead of eight -- she might have been worth knowing. Nat had brought a book, and sat under a shady tree reading as the kid explored the woodsy area; apparently, she was only familiar with the neatly-manicured greenery of her parents' palatial home. She grew accustomed to tuning out the child's incessant cries of, "Hey, look at this, Nat!" - - after all, she'd seen it all before. All at once, Tracy shrieked; then, there was silence. Natalie shut her book quickly, looked around. Far, far away, 'way down by the narrow little creek, Tracy was standing very still and staring down at the ground. "Tracy, what is it?" she called, but the kid didn't seem to hear her... She hurried to investigate, rushing down the slope to the girl's side. "Don't touch it," she said, as soon as she saw what had drawn Tracy's attention. "Don't worry, I won't," the kid retorted. "It's a crime scene, evidence... My dad taught me *that* much." Nat had never before seen a real gun, and studied it in fascination; it didn't look at all like Richie's friend Joey's BB gun. And blood had always been red, before; she'd never before seen it like this, in great sticky drying pools on the dirt and the rocks and the fallen leaves, crimson deepening to black. "I wonder what happened here?" she said, almost to herself. "Somebody got attacked," said Tracy at once, not missing a beat. "Not shot, at least not by this gun, 'cause I don't think it's been fired. And two people came here..." she pointed a chubby childlike finger at two sets of adult- sized footsteps imprinted in the muddy creek bank "...but only one left," and she indicated a pattern in one of the patches of drying blood. Amazed, Natalie stared at her. "How d'you know all that?" "I talk to my dad," said Tracy promptly, "and I read a *lot*. I wanna be a detective when I grow up, just like Sherlock Holmes. C'mon," she said, and began heading off, in the same direction as the bloody footprints. "Tracy. Tracy!" Nat hurried after the girl. "Listen, uh, Tracy, this is not exactly safe..." "But I want to know what *happened*," she explained, oh so reasonably. "Don't you?" And since Nat couldn't truthfully deny it, she let the younger girl lead her onward, despite the cold knot of fear twisting at her stomach. ------- It wasn't rightfully a cave, was little more than a hole in the earth, but it was big enough for a person to crawl into -- and it was dark, and forbidding; and the footprints led straight into it. Nat and Tracy hovered by the opening, glancing at it and at each other nervously. "We're *not* going down there," was Natalie's opinion. "We are not that stupid." "I'm that stupid," Tracy said, all innocence, with a wickedly mischievous gleam in her eyes. "You dare me to do it?" For just an instant, Nat considered... "No," she said firmly. "My parents'll kill me if I come home without you, and your dad's a policeman; they won't much like hearing that I lost you down a hole. I don't know about you, but *I'm* not that stupid -- and you are not expendable." She folded her arms across her chest. "We are *not* going down there." Tracy opened her mouth, presumably to reply -- but was distracted by an odd sound from that dark little hole, and turned to see what it was; her mouth remained hanging open, in shock. Nat was mesmerized by the sight: two golden, glowing orbs, fierce beacons emanating from that darkness, hot and furious -- and that sound, halfway between a hiss and a growl. Something was looking at them. Something mean. Something not -- quite -- normal. "Nat," said Tracy, in a conversational voice that held only the hint of a tremor, "you're awful smart." "I try," said Natalie, in a voice much less steady. "Tracy, how fast can you run?" "Watch me," said Tracy. Ten minutes later, when they'd finally stopped running and had paused to catch their breath, having left the creek and the woods and the thing with the glowing eyes far, FAR behind... Natalie collapsed onto a patch of soft, inviting grass, and Tracy fell to the ground beside her. As her heart pounded in her ears and her lungs struggled for air, Nat realized that she felt more exhilarated than frightened: now that she was safely away, it all seemed like an adventure. Her eyes flickered sideways at her companion, and she knew that the kid felt the same way. "Nat," said Tracy, "we should go back." She began to say, "Are you crazy?!" -- and reconsidered. "I'd like to," she admitted, "but I don't think we should. I think... I think we're getting in over our heads." "But..." Tracy's argument subsided before it had really begun. "We gotta tell my dad," she sighed. "He'll kill me if we don't." "Yeah," said Nat, relieved, "let's go home and tell your dad." ------- Their parents' social event dissolved shortly after their disheveled arrival at home; after telling the story a dozen times to a dozen people, Nat found herself in the kitchen with Tracy, drinking cocoa and munching her mom's homemade cookies, while policemen and others congregated in the living room. "They didn't believe us," Tracy muttered. "About the thing with the eyes, I mean." "You really expected them to?" Nat said pragmatically. "I hardly believe it myself." "But you *saw* it, Nat," said the younger girl, with sudden intensity. "You saw it, just like I did." "Yeah, I did," she said softly, remembering. "It was real..." "It was," Natalie confirmed. "It scared me," said Tracy, "but..." and she fell silent, unwilling or unable to elaborate further. Nat knew what she meant. One of the officers had suggested taking one or both of the girls back down there, to help locate the site; Tracy's father had quashed that idea at once. Nat had expected to feel panicked by the suggestion, though -- and instead, she'd felt only eagerness. "I wanted to go back," she whispered. "Me, too," Tracy said wistfully. The door opened, and Nat's mom came in. "How are you two holding up?" A warm hand ruffling Nat's hair, wonderfully soothing. "I'm fine, Mom," Nat told her. "Me, too," the girl chimed in. "My brave little soldiers," said her mom fondly, and went to make them some more cocoa. Natalie didn't feel brave, only curious, and she knew Tracy felt the same way; but she didn't dispute her mother's analysis of the situation. Easier that way. The issue of bravery was something to think about later, when it was time to try to sleep, in her dark, dark room... //Oh, well,// thought Nat philosophically, //at least today wasn't boring...// And she sipped at her cocoa, while across the table annoying little Tray-ceeee munched on a cookie, kicked aimlessly at the table leg and smiled. -------/end