We Used to Live Here

by Marcus Kliewer

Eve hesitated. “Inside the house?” “Just a quick look around,” the father said. “Only if it’s not a problem. We’d need maybe ten, fifteen minutes. Tops.”

And the book would have ended here because there ain't no way

Mo was a crazy-eyed monkey with cymbals.

Girl

Three tones rang and then, “Hello?” “Hey, Charlie, I—” “Hello. You’ve reached Charlie. Leave a message, or don’t.” A single tone beeped.

I'm already annoyed

“Wait,” she called out, almost reflexively. The father stopped in his tracks and looked back over his shoulder. Eve cleared her throat. “Fifteen minutes?” He nodded. “Tops.”

Right

Eve bent down to see. An odd symbol had been carved there. A circle, divided by intersecting lines of varying lengths, all meeting in the middle. It looked cryptic, like some kind of ancient glyph.

Oh i'm sure!

He tilted his head, pretending to consider the suggestion. “I’ve seen this pattern before,” he said. “Jenny finds a spot, sets up camp, and she won’t surrender unless we give her space.”

I'm calling the cops

“Eve?” Charlie prodded. “Do you want me to boot them out right now? Just say the word and—” Eve swatted away the offer. “You being late made me worry, that’s all. Mountain roads. The weather.”

The weather is why they need to leave now