The next day, I spent all morning hoping the car would return. As Zack could not talk to or message me until later, trying to avoid his father's inquisitive eyes, hours passed with me in a state of worry. Hopefully, I thought I could call him when lunch hour came.
I couldn't wait to know.
It was strange. The car had disappeared several times before, but I never worried about it until last night. It was probably because I had witnessed the theft and had done nothing to stop it. Even when the car had been stolen, and that police officer had been run over, I told Zack to go get his dad, and I knew the police van was on the chase. But now, if the Thunderbird went away, the fault would lie on my and Zack's shoulders, and I didn't know if I could handle that.
Lunch break came, and I sat with the girls at our table. I tried to call Zack twice, but he never answered. This made me extra nervous, but thankfully, my friends were there to help me vent my worries and frustrations.
"I mean, I get what he's saying. You need the footage. Both to get the guy and to see what's going on with the car," Lucy said, eating some pieces of sushi she had packed.
"Besides, people got hurt the last time someone tried to stop the dude."
"I know. But I still feel guilty, you know?" I said. "What if this time he takes it for good?"
"Don't serial killers have a modus operandi or something like that?" Asked Lola. "They don't tend to change what they usually do."
"I guess," I said while eating my mashed potatoes and corned beef.
"Think of it like this. If he takes it, at least you'll have footage of his face. Just give it to the police," Camilla said, sipping on her juice box.
"That's true," I nodded. "It's a bummer no one has seen what this guy looks like."
"Well, hopefully, you'll know now," Lola said. "Then, when you are done, you give me the cam back."
"Did your dad notice you took it?" Lucy asked Lola.
"Yeah. But he doesn't know I'm aware there's a camera in there," Lola giggled. "He thinks I lent it to Tammy for our presentation."
"By the way, talking about that, should we get some video?" I asked the two of them.
"If you can find some clips online, that could be cool," Lucy said.
I looked at my cell phone again to see if Zack had decided to text me, but nothing. So I placed it back in my sweater pocket and continued having lunch with my friends. Zack wouldn't send any texts or call me the entire day, which made me utterly miserable.
I spend the day thinking and overthinking about the night before. I was terrified that my father would arrive and tell us something horrible had happened. The whole time, I constantly struggled with myself, telling myself to relax and that everything would be alright. Meanwhile, another part of me was screaming that something was wrong.
I wanted to call Zack and yell at him for making me wait and torturing me with his answer.
After I finally finished working on my homework, I walked out of my house and placed a small plastic chair in the backyard. There I sat and closed my eyes, trying to distract myself from everything by listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. I even thought a few times of going to my parents' room and stealing one of Mom's cigarettes.
This is how Mom found me as she arrived home a few hours later. She laughed and sighed in relief, as she had gotten scared for a second that someone had kidnapped me.
"No, I'm fine," I told her as I sat in the chair, covering my eyes.
"Why are you outside?" Mom asked, walking toward me. "You don't usually do this."
"I know," I said, looking at her as she placed her hands on the plastic chair. "I just wanted to relax. I've been so busy with the project and homework. I needed a breather."
"Alright," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "Do you want me to make you some food or a drink?"
"No, I'm good. Go rest if you want," I told her, and she returned to the house.
"Oh, I will. I've been walking all day in these heels," Mom said as she entered our home. "My feet are killing me."
I stayed in the garden till nightfall, then went back to my bedroom to check for any messages. Lucy had sent me some possible videos for our project, Camilla had sent me a message talking to me about her grandparents, and Lola, a message reminding me of returning the Teddy soon.
I responded to all of them, but then, as I moved back, I entered Zack's chat, which still had messages from days before and nothing new.
I shook my head, frowning, upset.
I walked nervously to dinner, hoping nothing wrong had happened to the repair shop and its members. Mom and Dad were finishing setting up the table, and as we all sat to eat, I looked at Dad to see if there was something he was trying to hide. He looked serious but pretty calm.
"Why did you have to walk so much today?" I asked Mom.
"What?" Mom asked, a bit distracted.
"You said your feet hurt."
"Oh, there was a mess at the bank regarding clients," she said. "And as a senior employee, they sent me to fix it."
"What happened at the bank?" Dad asked her while drinking his glass of beer.
"Some big client, I think someone messed up their account, and they were all panicking," Mom explained. "Thankfully, we fixed it before the client really got angry."
"That's good," Dad said, eating some rice.
As I couldn't see in his expressions anything that would hint at something of deep concern, I decided to just ask my father how things were.
"Things are not good," Dad said and sighed.
I gulped, afraid, kinda regretting asking him. But I kept going as I needed to know if the car had returned.
"Why?" I asked, worried. "Did something happen?"
Dad looked at me, a bit confused about my concern, but then shrugged and said that it was because one of the mechanics had taken a leave of absence, which meant more work for the group.
"Why, baby?" Mom asked him, sipping from her juice.
"The virus," Dad said, "his mother got sick."
"Oh, damn," I said, a bit ashamed. I was so worried about that old car, I had forgotten that people were starting to get sick from that weird disease. "Will she be okay?"
"I don't know, she's in the hospital now," Dad told us, "so he has to leave for a few weeks to take care of her and her house."
"I'm so sorry, Dad," I said, patting him on the hand. "How is Mr. Vinton taking it?"
"Not well, especially because The Thunderbird left again last night," Dad said, and I stopped breathing for a second. But when Dad said they knew because they had arrived this morning to find it with a broken headlight, I sighed in relief.
"Do you think something bad happened?" I then asked, hoping for the best. "A new crash?"
My father shook his head and told us Mr. Vinton had called the police after noticing the broken headlight. The police then informed them that the surveillance chopper had caught the Thunderbird driving around South Soto again, but lost it after chasing it for a few minutes. The next day, there were no reports of any accidents. So Dad said that Mr. Vinton and he assumed the car had become damaged on the way back.
"How? I have no idea," My father then said.
"Well, it's back. So that's good," I said. "It's a bummer you'll probably have to change that light again."
"Yeah, but I don't think it will be a problem anymore."
"What do you mean, sweetie?" Mom asked him.
"After calling the police, Cam decided to take the wheels off the car," Dad said, cutting his corned beef.
Mom and I looked at each other, and I asked Dad why Mr. Vinton had come to that decision.
"Cam had thought about it before, but he had thought the police would have caught the guy by now," Dad said.
"Where did he leave the wheels?" I then asked, curious.
"Oh, he just placed them next to the old Hot Rods," Dad said, "he'll put them back when Mr. Lewis comes to pick up the car. Hopefully, it'll end all this."
Knowing that the car had come back safe and might not be at risk in the near future, I walked back to my room after dinner with a calmer disposition.
I sat at the edge of my bed and checked my phone one last time before lying in bed while playing some fun videos. I spent the next hour learning some food recipes and looking at Let's Plays, finally achieving the level of relaxation I'd been looking for all day.
I still thought about Zack and wondered why he hadn't messaged me, but at least I was not worried about the car anymore. I hoped the thief would not know how to use a jack, and even if he did, it might take him enough time for Mr. Vinton to alert the police.
Then, as I watched a video about how to make a peach cobbler, I finally received a few texts. I saw they were from Zack and pressed to see what he had sent me. The first three were just short texts.
"Sorry for not calling. I'm in a bad mood."
"I saw it. Now you have to see it."
"Call me later."
Then, the fourth message was a clip.
I assumed it was footage from the nanny cam, but the strange way Zack's texts were written made me a bit nervous.
"What had he seen that I needed to see?" I asked myself. "Was he in a bad mood because of the video?"
For a moment, I thought of not seeing the footage, but then I rolled my eyes and told myself I had to. This whole thing could be the answer and conclusion to the problem.
But if the clip showed the identity of the thief, then why had Zack not revealed it to his dad? Wouldn't that be the wiser thing to do, in hopes Mr. Vinton then would show it to the cops, and we would end this odd, vicious cycle of theft and murder?
"What if it didn't show the identity of the thief?" I then thought. But why would I have to see it if it didn't show anything important?
"Girl, just look at it," I thought. "Don't be a baby."
So I pressed the play button and stared at the screen.
The footage started like previous clips I'd seen from the garage, with sounds of the dogs barking outside and cars going around in the distance.
As the night vision was on, the image looked way clearer. I could clearly see the structure of the Thunderbird between the wheeled toolboxes and benches. Everything looked fine, but then, like I had heard many times before, the steps began.
I thought of the steps I had heard the night we left the Thunderbird escape and how the sound was now syncing to an image only the camera had caught. I then remembered that there was a long moment where nothing happened. The car door would soon be open, but it was not yet time, so I considered speeding up the clip. But then something else occurred.
Something appeared at the edge of the screen. Something dark. It scared me a little, but I initially thought it was just a fly because it appeared without a warning.
But it was not a fly.
A few milliseconds later, the dark thing moved more into the frame, and I managed to see someone's profile.
I then went pale, realizing I was looking at a person. But was it really a person? It was so bizarre and terrifying. It was a clearly defined silhouette of a man, but it was still covered in a strange kind of darkness.
And then it hit me.
It was the thing, the one Zack and I had seen inside the garage nights ago. The one who laughed.
I lay there in shock, just looking at it, not believing my eyes.
The silhouette moved around the car in circles, like in a strange ceremony. I couldn't hear any steps coming from the figure, but it was clearly walking. Then, for a split second, it looked at where the camera was, and I almost pissed my pants.
Its eyes. Crazy bright.
The light in those pupils was like how cats look when you point a light at them in the dark, but brighter, almost like looking straight into a car's headlights.
What was that thing?
I could definitely see the details of a jacket and pants. The silhouette had clothes and a face, but the way the image showed it looked distorted. Just wrong.
Finally, we arrived at the moment I remembered, where Zack and I heard the car door opening and closing. And that's precisely what happened. The figure walked to the other side of the car, and the door opened, but it did so in a way that looked like nothing had touched it. The sound came the same as before.
Then, a weird jump-cut occurred. But was it a jump-cut?
All I knew was that the silhouette was now inside the car, his shadowy hands on the steering wheel.
The Thunderbird's engine started roaring, and then the car radio began emitting its melodic sounds.
Another jump-cut.
The silhouette was now outside, slowly moving away from the car. I gulped as I saw it walk out of frame and toward the next step. The garage door would open. I knew it because it happened many times, all the same. With or without me as a witness.
I heard the sound of metal and wood being pushed, and began to feel ill. Like I was about to pass out. But I kept watching till the end. The silhouette then came back into the frame and jump-cut inside the car as before. Then, as nothing was wrong, the car drove away like it had done many times before.
Finally, the door closed, and I was left with the image of the garage with one less car.
I lay there thinking about everything I had seen and heard in the past few weeks, and as I did it, I felt a large wall tumbling inside my brain.
There was no thief.
There was only this.
I blinked several times, trying to understand what my eyes had witnessed. But there was nothing that made sense.
There was only a shape.
"What the hell did I just watch?!" I texted Zack.
My head was spinning out of the shock, the fear, the confusion, the repulsion. Everything.
I placed the cell phone against my chest while waiting for the boy to respond. I looked up at the ceiling like I had done the previous night, and I wondered for the first and last time if it would have been better if I had never gone to that repair shop to see my father.
This was too much.
Then the cell phone shook against my chest.
An answer had come.
I lifted my cell phone and stared at the message. Zack had only texted one word in all caps. And that's because he only needed one word. Nothing else was really needed to make me understand what he believed was happening and that we were truly and utterly screwed.
"CORKY," It read.
The boy from Mr. Lewis's Story.
That damn car should never have come our way.