Page 34 of In Her Memory

Loyalynne’s head turned with that unsettling fluidity, the movement too smooth to be human. “Your sarcasm doesn’t help either of us.”

Emma looked away from her companion, focusing instead on the road stretching across the Missouri countryside.

She’d spent less than five hours in the town of Piltdown—a blur of careful scavenging while memorizing escape routes. What was left of her money jingled in her pocket—a mere $7.35.

Her hand rose unconsciously to her hair, feeling the uneven strands that she’d cut with cheap scissors that were designed for a child. The drugstore dye had transformed her chestnut locks to deep black. The bathroom at the gas station where she’d done the transformation still haunted her – the flickering fluorescent light, the way her hands had trembled as she’d combed through the remains of her hair. Staring into the mirror she noted that her eyes were still green.

Just like hers… she thought, but Emma couldn’t remember the name she was reaching for.

“Stop touching your hair,” Loyalynne said sharply. “You’ll draw attention to yourself.”

“There’s no one here,” Emma protested, gesturing to the empty road stretching in both directions. Fields of harvested corn created a maze of stubble on either side, occasional farmhouses punctuating the landscape like islands in a sea of agriculture.

The thrift store clothes she’d bought felt foreign against her skin – a faded blue hoodie two sizes too large, jeans that sagged at her hips, and a plain gray t-shirt with someone else’s memories washed into the fabric. She’d changed in the same gas station bathroom, stuffing her old clothes into a dumpster behind the building.

“Someone is always watching,” Loyalynne insisted. “Always. That’s why we keep moving.”

A truck rumbled past, headlights briefly illuminating both travelers – though the driver would have seen only a thin woman walking alone at dusk. Emma hunched as it passed, turning her face away.

“You should have listened to me about the money,” Loyalynne said once the truck had disappeared around a bend. “Panhandling would have brought in more than those bottles.”

Emma shook her head firmly. “I won’t beg. Not from strangers.”

“Pride is a luxury for people with options,” Loyalynne replied, her voice carrying that dry-leaf quality that always sent shivers down Emma’s spine. “And you’re running out of those.”

The argument was one they’d had throughout the day. At the edge of town, Loyalynne had pointed to a busy intersection where Emma could have stood with a cardboard sign, but Emma had refused. Something in her rebelled at the idea, though she couldn’t articulate why. Instead, she’d spent hours scouring public spaces for recyclables, avoiding eye contact, becoming as invisible as possible.

“Where are we even going?” she asked, changing the subject. “You keep saying we need to run, but you never say where to.”

Loyalynne’s glass eyes caught the fading light, reflecting it back with an unsettling gleam. “Away. That’s all that matters. Away from those phantoms who tried to confuse you.”

“You mean the people who called me Piper?” Emma asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

“They weren’t people,” Loyalynne corrected sharply. “They were manifestations. Tricks of the light and mind. They wanted you to believe you were someone else – someone with that other name. Someone with a family and friends and a whole history that never existed.”

Emma kicked at a stone in her path, sending it skittering ahead. “But if they’re not real, why do we have to run from them? Phantoms can’t hurt me.”

“They can if you believe them,” Loyalynne replied. “They can make you forget who you really are. They can make you give in to a life that was never yours.”

The light continued to drain from the sky, stars appearing overhead like distant pinpricks in black velvet. Emma’s stomach growled. She still had an apple and a package of crackers in her backpack, but she was saving those for later.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Emma muttered. “None of it does.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense to you,” Loyalynne said. “You just need to trust me. I’m the only one who can see the truth clearly.”

Emma shuddered. Sometimes, in moments like this, she questioned everything – her decision to run, her trust in Loyalynne, even her own identity.

“Where are we going to sleep tonight?” Emma asked, practical concerns overwhelming any others as darkness continued to settle around them. “I can’t walk all night.”

Loyalynne’s painted lips curved into what might have been a smile on a human face. “I know what I’m doing, Emma. You need to stop questioning every step of the journey.”

“I’m tired,” Emma said, her voice cracking. “I’m hungry and I’m tired and I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

“You can because you must,” Loyalynne replied, her tone softening slightly. “Just a little farther. Trust me – I have a plan.”

Emma fell silent, conserving her energy for walking. The stars multiplied overhead as night claimed the landscape. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called, the sound lonely and haunting in the growing dark. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, guided by the strange companion that only she could see, running from phantoms that might not exist, toward a destination unknown.

An abandoned homestead began to emerge from the darkness. First, Emma spotted the leaning fence posts, bone-white in the moonlight, then the hulking shadow of the main house with its sagging roof and empty window frames. A barn stood off to one side, partially collapsed, silvered by years of exposure. Crickets fell silent as they approached, as if the very ground beneath the old property had forgotten how to sustain life. Emma stopped at the edge of what had once been a front yard, her exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by apprehension.