Hereafter

Movie night

“This movie’s stupid,” Darcy grumbled, snuggling further into the couch cushions.

“Bite your tongue,” my dad shot back, his arm slung around my shoulders. “This is one of the greatest films of all time.”

We were watching Superman—the original one from the 1970s—on his laptop, which glowed brightly in the center of the coffee table. It was ridiculously cheesy, but it was one of my father’s favorites, so at the moment, I didn’t care.

“Fine, but we’re watching Footloose next,” Darcy muttered.

“Kevin Bacon?” Dad said hopefully.

Darcy gave him a look, as if she was embarrassed to share the same air with him. “Please. Do I look like I’m forty?”

“Okay, fine. We’ll watch your version. What about you, Rory?” my dad asked. “What’s your pick for this little all-nighter you’ve got planned?”

“I don’t care,” I said honestly, tugging the musty afghan up over my shoulders. “I’ll watch whatever.”

“The Natural it is, then,” he announced.

Darcy groaned, and I stifled a laugh. Dad could have whatever he wanted as far as I was concerned. I hadn’t been forced to fake illness to make him leave the party. The mayor had mysteriously disappeared on him, and he said he was more than ready to “blow this Popsicle stand,” as he put it. Darcy had been the harder sell, but my dad put his foot down. Joaquin was right. He didn’t want her walking home alone in the fog.

So now here we were, ensconced in our little house, the fog still clouding the windows as we indulged in a family movie marathon. As Superman struggled with his kryptonite necklace on the screen, I rested my head against my father’s chest and listened to his improbable heartbeat. I hadn’t done this in so long—cuddled with my dad on the couch—not since I was a little girl. Now it was the only place I wanted to be. He was still warm, still breathing, still here. And that was all that mattered.

I gazed through the living room window at the grayness outside, and a pair of sinister, glittering eyes stared back at me.

“Dad!” I shouted, jumping up.

“What?” he asked, startled to his feet. “What is it?”

“Outside! I saw—”

But when I looked at the window again, the eyes had vanished. I walked to the front door, shaking, and yanked it open, met with a swirling wall of wet gray air. In the distance a crow cawed.

“Who’s out there?” I demanded, as my father and Darcy walked up behind me. “Who’s there?”

Silence. Nothing but the hissing of the fog.

“It was probably just a bird or something,” Darcy said, trudging back to her seat.

“This fog can really mess with your imagination,” my dad added, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get back to the movie.”

He waited for me to close the door, then walked me back to the couch. We settled back in together, but this time I found I couldn’t relax. While my dad and Darcy watched Superman save the planet, I kept my eyes trained on the window and the swirling fog outside.

Someone had been out there, watching us. I was sure of it. And whoever it was was out for blood.