In the field

By Seagull Editions and Rich Cole

A couple, James and Rita, are city hipsters who are on their way to a wedding when they become lost on a never ending mysterious road pleated between a great, expansive grass, their car stops in the middle of nowhere. As night gathers, they must make choices to survive together in the grass. Together they persevere in the back drop of strange happenings. All isn't right in a world where they feel eyes in the grass, watching them. A story of horror and despair in motion, they must find their way out before it is too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223029236

Book preview

IN THE FIELD

© 2021 Seagull Editions s.r.l.

www.seagulleditions.com

CHAPTER ONE

We have driven quite far from the city, the hum and thrum of it absorbed into the distance between us. I can tell you that I miss it, being lost in the chaos of it. I can tell James misses it, too. The way he keeps looking into the rear mirror, as if trying to draw in the city back to us. In reality, we’re city people, never one to travel far away from it, to take road trips and travel to conventions held in some distant village. James grew up in a small town just like the one we’re going to, but once he left, he never went back. The city called to him, embraced him and swallowed him whole.

You think we should stop for a cup of coffee? He says now, not looking my way, his eyes pinned to the road.

No, I think I’m good. I say, my fingers tapping my thigh lightly. Are you tired?

Not really. He says then turns around and smiles at me. Jake is my boyfriend. We have been dating for close to six years now. We met at a convention for therapist—some company was releasing a new drug and giving it to us to use on patients who were comfortable using it for free. Then I had just started my practice in the city. I had a small apartment right in the middle of the city. There wasn’t much space in it but I loved it. It was mostly crammed with books I studied in med school, books I wouldn’t dispose of.

When James and I started dating, I left those books behind. I left my small apartment and moved into his loft. There wasn’t much I carried with me, I bought everything else, like I was starting afresh. It’s the small concessions, the spaces you make in your body that turns into giant whirling holes that swallow your other choices. James practiced from the house, his office right in the middle of our apartment, sound proof and cordoned off the other rooms. Sometimes I feel I share him with this other room, even I know what it is like, I still feel I’m a small attachment to his life.

Are you okay? He says, smiling, this time turning to look at me. He is handsome, tall, charming and beautifully blonde. Sometimes I feel he is too good looking in the way that it is half his personality, half his entity. He is also a brilliant therapist which means we rarely argue, everything is to be dissected, analyzed. It is for this reason that I sigh deeply now, look out the window and into the small towns we pass—a baby swinging cheerfully from a swing, a woman sitting on her porch, rocking back and forth from her chair stairs at us until our car disappears from her view.

I don’t want to talk about it. I say now. Time has passed since he asked me the question but I know it hangs in the air between us, waiting to be dissected, analyzed.

You know it is important for us to talk. James is thirty five which means he has been in enough relationship to be weary of the passive non engagement. He is patient, but tired. He is a good listener, but a good speaker too. Our car jolt, runs over an already dead and decaying animal lying flat on the road like a two dimensional thing. We’re driving a Mini Cooper. We have had it for years now, the only car we have. In a way it was James’s car before I came into the picture but we drive it together now. It is painted navy blue and hums deeply inside of it.

Sometimes it’s also important to let the silence sit between us, ferment. I tell my patients this when their arguments grow volatile, compulsive. James is not one of my patients and I know this, sometimes I feel he forgets am not one of his, either.

I’m not one of your patients, Rita. He says now, swerving the car and avoiding passing over another dead animal.

And I’m not someone you will want to marry, apparently. I say, seething. My eyes burn, with anger, disappointment.

God, this is what this is about? Again? He says, breathing through his nose. I look through the rear mirror, into the distance behind us. The roadkill lies flat on its back, tuft of hair flaying in the wind.

If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it, either. I say now, adjusting the strap of my gown. I’m wearing a deep blue gown, with black floral prints. This morning I thought I looked pretty in it, the blue bringing out the shade of my eyes. Now I feel old, like a carcass in a blue dress. I’m thirty years old, older than I look. I’ve only worn this dress once but now I feel clammed up inside of it, like I wouldn’t be able to breathe soon.

Let’s just get through this ridiculous wedding and we can talk. James says.

Excuse me, but this is my brother’s wedding we’re talking about. I correct him.

And he is marrying his Shrink. His Shrink for God sake. He says.

His former Shrink, and she makes him happy.

She is ten years older than him. What do you think he is doing there, what do you think he is exhibiting doing something like that? He says.

Do not dare analyze my brother. He has made his choice, and he is a grown man. All I can do is support him.

And also feel pressure by him getting married. We have this conversation two years ago, you seemed to be fine with it. What happened to the whole marriage is an archaic system that only breeds unhappiness? Did you change your mind? He says, turning and looking at me.

Yes. I want to get married, have kids, the lot of it. I don’t want to date forever, that is what is ridiculous. The idea that I will be with you and have nothing solidified.

Rita, what makes you think that marriage solidifies anything? He says. There’s a look in his face, something I’ve never seen before.

Are you saying you could just leave me someday, James? Is that what you’re saying?

I’m saying, nothing is assured in life. You’re a therapist, you should know that.

Don’t patronize me.

I’m not. Rita, our relationship is as solid as it will ever be. Adding a fancy ribbon like a ring to it does nothing to solidify it. We would just draw attention to us and for what? He says.

To make vows, James. To celebrate our love for one another.

Rita, everyday I’m with you, I make vows. Everyday I’m with you, I celebrate our love.

We’re driving in silence, the radio turned on. We haven’t spoken in a while in the car, growing into the silence of it, the quietness growing roots deep inside of us. I dozed off for a while but now I’m awake, wide awake.

The navigator says we should turn to this road. I say to James. He frowns deeply, peers down at the navigator.

Are you sure this is the way to the wedding. It feels off the path. He says, while turning into the road.

Honey, this is West Virginia, everything feels off the path. I say and chuckle. We have sunken back to our familiar space. A space where we can share a laugh, a joke. We drive down into the path, the road pleated between fields. Looking out, the field is filled with high grasses, tall above the car on both sides. Ahead, the road is long, rising straight into the horizon. The air has changed in the car, more humid, the rich smell of soil infused into the atmosphere.

The radio keeps twitching, changing from one channel to the other. The volume rise and falls on its own, so I decide to connect my phone to it, to play songs from my phone.

That’s strange.

What is? James says, looking straight ahead.

There’s no service on my phone. I say, peering down at my phone.

That is strange. Take a look at mine. James says as he drives further into the road.

I open the glove box where he kept his phone and turn it on. I wait for it to fully turn on while I reach out of the car with my phone in my hand, searching for a streak of service. There’s nothing. His phone turn on and I take a look.

There’s no service on your phone either.

Give it a while, maybe it will come back on. He says, takes his right hand off the wheel and places it gently on my thigh. I place my hand over it and squeeze it. We are farther down the road now. I look through the rear mirror and I don’t see the road we took out from. I don’t see an end to this road either. It sort of feels comforting, being in a middle of something.

Eric is going to be calling us if we get late to the wedding. I say, worried.

We’re not going to get late, James says. Check the navigator, are you sure we’re on the right path?

Yes. I’m sure. It said ‘turn right’ and we turned right.

Just check, okay baby? James never turns his eye off the road when he drives, except to look at me.

Okay, this is strange. I say, a deep frown forming on my face.

What is again? James