Young Writers Society

Chapter 2: The Shack

The TV blared with a 90’s cartoon as I sat slumped on the couch in yoga pants and a blue tank top. My father finally got home from work when the sky had gone from grey to black.

“Hello, hun, how was your first day at college?” he asked as he passed through the living room into the kitchen.

“Fine,” I replied. “Guess who I saw on the bus?”

“Who?” his distant reply came.

“Jack.”

My father’s figure appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, body tense. “Who’s Jack?”

“He was, like, my best friend in grade five.”

“Grade five?” he relaxed. “Oh. What a coincidence.”

“And I made friends with the girl next door who also knows Jack, and they invited me out to dinner with them and some other friends at the diner… Can I go?”

He thought about it for a moment, then said as cheerfully as he could, “Sure. Need some money?”

“Yes, please. And, we’re going to the arcade after so I might be out late. Don’t wait up.”

My father pealed a fifty dollar note from the roll in his pocket and handed it over. “Have fun.”

*

Pentagrams and other symbols I didn’t recognize were spray painted all over the sturdy bricks and huge rusted metal roller doors of The Shack. The abandoned-warehouse-turned-night-club loomed over me in the darkness, oozing a thudding baseline of dance music.

Figures in the darkness all made their way around the back. Hoots of laughter with no locatable source went into the air from all sides as the local teens swarmed in to party. Laura led me by the elbow through the gloom towards the back door labeled fire escape. Inside the music was loud and lively, people danced and made out under the flash of strobe lights in the haze of a fog machine.

Laura leaned in to yell in my ear over the music. “Sometimes they put weed in the fog machine to get everyone high.”

I looked to her with a sly smile.

“Not tonight though,” she added. “They’re too scared.”

“Scared?”

“The cops just brought in new recruits from all over the country to help crack down on drugs around here.”

“But the local drug dealer is in prison now.”

“That doesn’t stop us.” Laura produced a small bag of heroin.

“Jessica!” Jack’s voice cried. I turned to see him emerging from the fog, his body glowing with the green and blue lights behind him. He pulled me into a hug, his manly aroma wafting around me.

“I see you’ve met Laura,” he smiled. “Don’t let her date rape you.”

They laughed at the look on my face. “He’s just joking, don’t look so scared,” Laura assured me.

“Let’s go get our booze!” Jack cried. He took my hand and led us back outside and to the next building over. It was a rundown-looking café, closed for business at this time of night. He led us around the back, where the music reduced to a dull thudding and alley cats fought and yowled.

“We’re not breaking in and stealing it, are we?” I wondered, hoping I wouldn’t have to be the kill joy.

“Hell, no,” Jack grinned. He knocked on the door and though from the outside the café looked dark and void of people, when the back door swung open light poured into the night.

“Hey, kids,” an older man with graying hair grinned. “You’ve got a new girl,” he looked down at me, smiling with kind blue eyes that were being swallowed by sagging, wrinkly skin.

“I’m Jessica,” I shook his hand. “I’m an old friend of Jack’s.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he said, kissing my hand lightly. “I’m Ronald. First drink is on the house.” He handed me a half-finished bottle of tequila.

“Thanks, Ronald,” Jack beamed excitedly, eyeing the bottle greedily.

The night became a blur of lights and dancing and laughing with Jack and Laura. Everyone was interested in the girl new girl; I didn’t mind, but when they asked the simple question of why I moved to this god forsaken Town, the half-truth of “for my dad’s work” got twisted around my tongue and made me want to flee.

Boys hit on me, girls were jealous of me for coming from the City, some people liked me and some didn’t, but one thing everyone had in common was their interest in the Stash. The rumor was especially strong in The Shack where the young came to get drunk and high and party; it was like a child’s fairy tale they desperately clung to give them hope that their youth was far from over and the party would never end. I told them I had searched my house and found nothing, I told them no, they could not search with me because my dad would not be happy with that, and eventually I told them to stop asking.

After another dance to a high energy song that chanted the mantra of sex and drugs into our young and impressionable minds, Laura wiped the sweat off her face, but it still poured down her chest and arms. “I’m exhausted. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Jack, Laura and I retreated down a corridor past room that may once have been offices, and found one empty to chill out in. There was a couple of bean bags and crates to sit on and soon we were joined by some of Jack’s female friends. He seemed popular among the ladies, and it was no wonder why. A guy called Erik came in, interested in meeting the new girl. He welcomed me to The Shack and said if I ever needed anything I could come to him. It stuck in my mind that his offer seemed calculated not genuine.

As we headed back to the dance floor, the lights came on, the music cut out. The absence of pounding music left a ringing in my ears. “What’s happening?” I asked. Jack’s face was grim.

Screaming and shouting echoed up from the dance floor. People ran past us. We jogged into the main room to see the fog lifting, revealing police officers swarming the dance floor, grabbing kids to handcuff.

“Shit,” I muttered. What would my dad say if I got arrested? This was bad- oh fuck.

I turned to go back the way we came, away from the cops. “There’s no way out that way,” Laura told me. “Just run, there’s so many of us they can’t catch us all. Just run and hope for the best.”

I looked to Jack and he nodded, then ran straight across the dance floor, straight between two cops. They lunged for him, both missed marginally. It was the distraction Laura and I needed; we bolted.

A young cop met my eyes from across the room, then even though he wasn’t even nearly the closest to me, he ran straight for me. He was young and fit, trained to run like this, whereas I hadn’t run much since sports day in grade five and had been smoking since fourteen. To my utter embarrassment and dismay, he caught up, and strong arms wrapped around my abdomen and yanked me backwards. I went limp in his arms hoping he would drop me, but he just carried me easily outside into the cool night air.

“Stand up, would ya?” he grunted with effort. His voice was young and fresh, barely broken like a man’s.

I admitted defeat and let my feet find the pavement. The noise of chaos died away and it was just the two of us in the crisp night. He handcuffed me and led me gently towards a long line of cop cars parked on the street.

“Aren’t you gonna read me my rights?” I asked bitterly with a slight drunken slur.

He just shrugged. “I bet you know ‘em. I bet this ain’t the first time you’ve been arrested. I can tell by the look of you.” His gaze slid down and sideways to look at me with a sly smile from the corner of his eyes. He broke away and grabbed a breathalyzer from a cop car and held it up to me. “Blow me,” he grinned. Was he flirting or he just a dickhead?

“I’m not underage,” I said. “You can check my ID. I haven’t done anything wrong, let me go.”

“Oh really?” he said, cheerfully not skeptically. “How old are you?”

“Almost nineteen.”

He removed the handcuffs. “What’s your name, Miss I’m-Almost-Nineteen-So-You-Can’t-Arrest-Me-Even-Though-I’m-Tresspassing.”

“Jessica,” I told him, chagrinned. I should’ve realized I was trespassing.

“How about you let me drive you home, Jessica? You seem a little too drunk to be walking these streets by yourself.”

“Don’t you have kids to arrest?” I asked.

“I could arrest you if I wanted to,” he reminded me, opening the passenger door of the cop car for me. His face was young and kind, neatly shaven, brown hair, tanned skin, brown eyes, fit body.

I got in and shut the door. He walked around to the driver’s side, climbed in and started the engine. We rolled down the street, away from the Shack where frightened teens fled from the building. I watched it disappear in the rearview mirror, hoping my friends were ok.

I realized I had just gotten into a car with a total stranger, a cop who was not acting like a cop, and thought maybe wherever my friends are – arrested or not – they’re better off than me, because maybe this guy isn’t driving me home. He didn’t even ask for my address. My heart beat a little faster, adrenaline secreting into my veins.

“You new here?” he broke the silence. His tone was friendly and conversational. I snuck a look at him out of the corner of my eyes; there was no blood under his finger nails to suggest he regularly kidnapped, raped and murdered teenage girls.

“Just moved in on Paradise Parade with my dad,” I replied.

“Oh, the drug kids house?”

I looked darkly out the window. “That’s something the real estate agent failed to mention.”

He chuckled. “Killed some poor sucker in his basement, then three on the street, in broad daylight.”

“In the basement?”

“I hear his soul still haunts the place…” he said, mustering up a campfire horror story tone. “Ooooh.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re making record time for falling in with the wrong crowd in this town. I’ll blame that on the fact that you’re living in a drug house, though. Let me guess, everyone’s asking about the Stash?”

Panic rose in my chest. Did he know I found it? Is that why he chose me from the crowd of teenagers? “What stash?”

“Oh, there’s some rumor that he left his Stash there when they shipped him off to prison.”

I shrugged, looking back out the window. We were getting closer to my home, houses rolled by the window, the soft glow in the windows to show families at home in their living rooms. “Who’s stupid enough to believe rumors these days?”

“The cops, apparently.”

“I could be on drugs for all you know,” I said, turning to him. “Why didn’t you arrest me?”

“Because you look lovely,” he said smoothly without hesitation, “so I want to get to know you.”

“Oh, it’s a sting operation.”

He laughed. “What?”

“You pretend to be nice and flirt and then I’ll tell you I’ve found this Stash everyone’s going on about and then you can prove I’m the new drug dealer in town.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you’re all wrong. We’re working on getting a search warrant for your house, and even if we found something why would we think you’re the new drug dealer? We already did a background check; you and your father have no connection what’s so ever to the drug dealer. Do you even know his name?”

“No,” I admitted. “So, you knew who I was when you grabbed me?”

“Yeah, I knew. You’re name’s Jessica Parker, you’re eighteen, you’ll be nineteen next month. You’ve got a criminal record – possession, underage drinking, bridge jumping. You were cleared of all charges.”

“I have a good lawyer,” I replied. “So, I’m a criminal and you’re a cop, I still don’t understand why I’m sitting in the front seat and not the back.”

“I told you. I think you’re pretty. Here you go,” he said as we pulled up beside my house.

As I got out he grabbed my wrist gently. “Jess, the Shack is a bad place. If you’re smart, you’ll stay away.”

“If your background check was thorough, you’d know if I’m smart or not. And you’d know no one calls me Jess.”

“You graduated high school two years early and are in your second year of college. You’re flunking all of you classes though, looks like from total lack of attendance.”

This guy knew me better than I wanted anyone too. No one was supposed to know I was bunking off college. No one was supposed to know I was afraid.

“Good bye, Jessica.”

Relieved to be home, I headed inside. Dad was asleep on the couch in front of the TV. I snuck past him and up to my bedroom.

Laura was waiting in my bedroom for me when I entered. She almost gave me a heart attack, I would never get used to having a secret passage way into my new friend’s house.

“What happened to you?” she demanded. “I was worried sick. Are you in trouble?”

“No. That cop was kinda nice,” I grinned. “He was really cute.”

She made fake gagging noises. “Well, I just came to make sure you’re ok. Bye.”

“Thanks. You’ve been really great to me. I had fun.”

“Same again tomorrow,” she said with a sly smile as she slipped through the back of my cupboard into the passage way.