Midnight in the Mountains

There was never much to note about Pearl, West Virginia. Like the rest of the state, it was scarcely populated and stood, dejected, among the long since mined-out mountains. Pearl was a ghost, frozen in time. 

The rumbling of the truck on the unkempt road mimicked the uneasy turning of June's stomach. She used to keep the windows down, but after the second cheese splattered wrapper had found its way into the brown coils of her hair, she decided the drive was better with the windows up. Town was just the way June remembered it. The two gas stations still had flickering lights, the McDonald’s (the only fast food restaurant that had been successful in Pearl) hadn’t been updated since the 80’s, and the Payless still had the “now hiring” sign in the window. The moon sat high in the sky. Its pale light cast over the buildings turned the town into an empty stage, props set up before the show and the spotlight waiting on the actors to make their entrances. 

Her scene here ended many years ago, after the coal mines had closed and the miners left her Papa’s body buried in one. 

She drove past the magnolia tree where there had once been a child sitting on every limb. It wasn’t long before she felt the trucks front wheels hit dirt, and she knew she was home. The old house stood like a memorial in the night. Tree branches hid boarded up windows. Plywood and graffiti covered the front door. If anyone had lived there after June left for the final time, they kept the ugly pale green paint on the outside of the house. 

June pulled free some boards from a side window with ease, the old wood crumbling in her hands. She’d left the keys to the truck in the ignition. The old beat up relic of a vehicle wasn’t worth stealing, not that there was anyone around to steal it. 

She set the box in her arms down on the dusty carpet of the living room, stepping past bunches of leaves and one disgruntled raccoon. Spiders had built their own homes in the corners of the room, and she decided she’d rather not disturb them. Besides, if they were brown recluses, they’d come to disturb her on their own. Unnatural condition or not, they were mean little bastards. 

One by one, she removed the candles from the box and began to arrange them in formation on the old rug. The room still smelled faintly of rosemary. Momma had cooked with it so much that June suspected the smell was permanently trapped in every surface of the house. The last thing in the box was a faded pink teddy bear, its stuffing unevenly distributed and lumpy. June had taken care of it for decades now, but could never bring herself to slice the plush toy open to replace its insides. The soft filling had, after all, gone lumpy from Lou-Ann’s many hugs. Who was she to erase the traces of her sisters love for the toy? 

It sat in the center of the circle of candles like a tired spectator, nubby blush arms by its sides. 

“Okay buddy,” she chuckled nervously, “you ready to do this thing?” 

It looked on, unblinking. She kneeled before the unlit candles. Cautiously, June began to speak. “Hear this now, a demons call. Let it reach your hallowed hall.” 

The candles began to light. She continued. 

“From the Silver City send one here, the one I name, I hold most dear.” 

With all the candles now glowing, she could see the teddy bears fur begin to move in the breeze. 

“Give me Lou-Ann, for just one night. Then by Gods mercy, it shall be right. This I pray from down below, here I stay, and there I’ll go.” 

Then came the voice that had always been just a little deeper than hers, and always much louder. “‘Where did you come from, Cotton-Eyed Joe?’ is how it goes, I think.” 

June turned, and there she was, perched in the windowsill with one hand on a cocked knee like they were teenagers again. She’d cut her hair at the shoulder at some point, it fell straight down now. 

God, June had almost forgotten what she looked like. How had she let that happen? 

Lou-Ann’s large round eyes surveyed her expectantly. “Well?” she said, half smiling, “Are you going to give me a hug, or are you just gonna stand there and cry all night?” 

She hadn’t even realized she was crying. She almost knocked a candle over in the rush to stand. When she at last pulled her little sister into an embrace, Lou-Ann was as tall she was. 

“You really got to be this tall?” 

Lou-Ann pulled back, beaming. “Absolutely. And I would’ve gotten even taller if it weren’t for the, um…” 

“The dying thing,” June finished. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve been, I haven’t gone a day without regretting it.” 

Her sister crossed her arms and shrugged. “Yeah, you should’ve. Where were you?” 

June had imagined telling her sibling a thousand times, and none of the methods she thought of felt appropriate now. And so, with her heart in her throat, June let her mouth drop open, and allowed the hidden set of razor sharp canines slide out of her gums. 

“Dealing with this,” she confessed. 

At once Lou-Ann was grabbing June’s face and tilting her head so she could look in her mouth. “Oh my God, this is what you were doing?” 

June swatted her hands away. “I wasn’t doing this. I was handling this. You remember how you and the neighborhood kids used to call me a vampire as a joke?” 

June had always been paler than her sister, and wasn't very social, either. Lou-Ann guffawed, “You didn’t come home when I was dying because of a joke?” 

Of course this is how her first (and last) time seeing her sister on this earth would go. “No, I didn’t come home because I was busy ripping the Ottomans a new one somewhere near Serbia.” 

She’d had a whale of a time, actually. Turns out that participating in a war effort was a great way to hone the new skills that she gained from being undead. June had found her way there after an arduous debate with her mentor about what she should do. He insisted on her seeing the world, and so she had joined a volunteer nurse corps that happened to participate in the First Balkan War. Only unbeknownst to her, her family had been sending her letters that she never received. If she’d gotten them, she would’ve known that Lou-Ann was gravely ill, and would have come home at once. 

Her sibling dragged one tanned hand down her face. She started rubbing her temples. “You abandoned me with our nut-job mother because you were doing vampire shit in the Balkans, got it.” 

“Looks like someone got better at geography.” 

“Don’t start. I got better at it because maps were all Momma would let me look at. I can’t believe she let me learn to read them, to be honest.” 

Their mother had loomed larger than life, and not in the good way. Momma had a habit of drinking too much and saving too little, a habit that didn’t improve once Daddy died in a mining accident. Prone to religious fanaticism, she was constantly raving about how the world was going to end unless everyone followed the bible to the letter. As such, she believed thoroughly in raising her daughters to be subservient. This was, unsurprisingly, not taken seriously by neither June nor her sister. That didn’t stop Momma from trying, though. 

Lou-Ann strolled out onto the back porch, with June following close behind. She was careful about where she stepped. Lou-Ann may not have much weight here, but June did. And she was not eager to fall through any rotten floorboards. 

With the same clunky gait she had when she was alive, Lou-Ann sat on the back steps, looking out into the dark tree line.

“I waited for you,” she said quietly, “as long as I could. Momma didn’t trust the doctor, maybe if she had I would’ve been here when you got back.” 

June sat down beside her. “I didn't come back until Momma died, Lou. I didn’t know how I could explain to you— much less her— what had happened to me. Why I hadn’t grown older after ten years, why I couldn’t go out in the sun without getting sick, why I got so strong all of a sudden.” 

She nodded. “She would’ve had the town coming after you with pitchforks.” 

“Yeah,” June agreed, “probably.” 

Coyotes whooped off in the distance, their sound echoing through the trees. 

“It was pneumonia, in the end.” 

She always was a sickly child. When June had found out it was a sickness that killed her little sister, she hadn’t been surprised. June wrapped an arm around Lou’s shoulders. “ You deserved better than this place, you know.” 

“I would’ve liked to see the ocean. Everybody talks about it.” 

If she’d known back then, June would’ve taken Lou to see all seven of them. But she didn’t know. Instead, her little sister died in the same tiny town she was born in, before she got to do much of anything. The thought of it made her chest hurt. 

“Hey, you know who I’ve been taking care of all these years?” She asked, dashing inside the house and back out with inhuman speed. 

Lou-Ann looked at her incredulously, “You’re faster than me now, too? That’s not fair. I always won the races when-“ 

“Lou, shut up and look at what’s in your lap.” 

She turned around with a huff and gasped when she saw the pink bear sitting in on the fabric of her dress. “Pinky Berry?!” 

June was glad that she reinforced the seams on the toy, because with how hard Lou was squeezing the thing, it seemed to be a good decision. 

“Oh my god you kept her!” She squealed, hugging the plush toy tight. It was crazy to think that back when she was alive, a girl Lou’s age was considered an adult. June was grateful that in modern times, children could be children. The idea of a girl like Lou already being married with kids made her cringe. 

June smiled until her cheeks hurt. “I couldn’t toss that thing out, so it’s been hanging out with me ever since you and Momma died.” 

Again, she felt tears begin to flow down her face. Then she couldn’t stop. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should’ve left without you. I should’ve taken you with me when I started changing, but you were too young to be turned into something like me,” she tried to explain between sobs, everything was coming out at once. All of the guilt, the nights she spent huddled in the rain on Lou’s grave, the what-ifs she’d been playing in her head over and over for the last century. “You were my responsibility, ever since you were born I knew that it was my job to take care of you. I should’ve stayed, Lou, and I’m so sorry I didn’t. I know I failed, you’ll never be able to understand how sorry I am. If I had stayed, I could’ve found work or something to get money for medicine. Then you never would’ve gotten so sick, and you could’ve grown up. I could’ve saved you, but I didn’t and you have no idea how much it eats away at me that you died because I wasn’t there.” 

Lou’s hand was on the top of her head, in the exact same way she used to do when she was little and wanted June’s attention. She kept her hand there, resting on her hair, until the shake in June’s shoulders settled into small tremors. 

When she could again look her sister in the face, Lou-Ann didn’t look angry or sad, she was looking at June warmly. “That’s why you called on me, isn’t it? To apologize.” 

June nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “I spent so much time trying to find a way to reach you.” 

June sniffled and coughed. A mosquito buzzed by her ear and she swatted it away. 

“Firstly, totally like you to pull me out of heaven because you have a personal problem.” 

They both laughed. 

“Secondly,” Lou continued, “it wasn’t your fault. If you had stayed, Momma would’ve found a way to get you killed. I’m glad I got pneumonia instead of having to watch people burn you to death in the front yard.” 

June chuckled. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

They looked at the starry night sky, where bats were dancing in the sea of blue. 

“You can only be here till dawn, you know. Then that’s it. I won’t be able to see you again for a long, long time. ” June informed her sister, who was still holding onto Pinky Berry like she was going to vanish any second. 

“I’m taking my bear with me,” Lou said simply. 

That was okay. June had been holding onto that thing long enough. She wasn’t sure she could keep it in secure condition for much longer, anyhow. She could stay and search the house for other keepsakes, but she wasn't sure what all was left. Time would have claimed most things, and looters would have probably taken the rest. 

“Hey Junie?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can you tell me a story like you did when I was little? I bet you’ve got some kick-ass stories by now.” 

Lou-Ann rested her head on June’s shoulder, and June resolved to tell her as much as she could before the sun rose. After all, she’d learned that there was a giant world out there that she had unlimited time to see. Her story started in Pearl, and who knows, maybe it’d end there one day, too.