The Prius in question was idling silently at the end of the long walkway that led up to the house.
“Call me when you get to your destination,” Wendy said before hanging up, probably to finish getting the rest of what I would need in order.
The Prius driver was a peppy looking college student who greeted me with a grin when I opened the door. “Hi there!”
Her car smelled potently of car freshener and I nearly choked on it as I settled into the seat.
“Doing some gardening tonight, I see,” she said conversationally as she pulled away from the curb.
I frowned, confused about what she meant.
“On your face,” her eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and I brought a hand up to my cheek. It came away with dirt.
“Oh, um, yeah my rose bushes needed some extra love and it took all evening,” I lied, scrubbing at my face with my hand to get the rest of the mark off.
“I’m a houseplant nut myself,” the driver continued to chatter, filling the space with her bright voice. “Though, as a vampire, I only ever get to see them at night.”
I hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t human. Everything about her exuded youth, but now that I looked more closely in the rearview mirror I could see the age behind her big blue eyes. Vamps had an easier time fitting in than most supernatural creatures.
Even in New Hampshire, where monsters were discouraged from settling in, vampires were able to live and thrive.
I gave the vampire Uber driver half-answers and nods, hoping she didn’t mind that I wasn’t the most engaging rider.
Finally, she pulled up to the curb of the post office and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” I murmured, shouldering my bag and scrambling out of the car.
The vampire gave me a jaunty wave before pulling away from the curb. Through my muddled thoughts, I briefly wondered about the irony of a houseplant-loving vampire, but I quickly shook it off.
I had bigger things to deal with than a vampire’s botanical hobby.
The main part of the post office was closed for the day, but the P.O box bay was open twenty-four hours. I climbed up the steps quickly, glancing over my shoulder as I opened the door.
It was impossible to shake the paranoid feeling that Mike was going to somehow appear from around the corner and drag me back to the house.
Digging in my bag, I found the little key that had been in the Ziploc bag I unearthed in the garden.
The number403was etched into the metal and my eyes immediately began to rove over the metal boxes that lined the walls.
“Four-oh-three, four-oh-three…” I whispered to myself, my brain immediately deciding that the box must not exist because I couldn’t find it right away. Even though boxes 406 and 402 existed.
Finally, my eyes found it. It was a bigger box on the end of the row. I wasn’t completely sure what Wendy had put inside. She’d just told me she was making me a go-bag.
Fitting the key into the lock, I opened it to find a nondescript black backpack within.
Then the Nokia phone rang.
“Did you make it?” Wendy asked in a loud voice when I answered.
I held the phone away from my ear with a wince. “Too loud, Wen, but yes I did. What’s in the backpack?”
“Well, your bestest friend in the whole wide world has created the ultimate‘I’m leaving my shitbag of a husband’go-kit,” she sounded proud of herself as she said it. “Now open the bag.”
The zipper to the backpack fought me as I wrestled it open, revealing the contents packed within.
“Hair dye?” I asked, pulling the first thing I saw out. It was a hot pink color. “Shouldn’t I be dying my hair dark, something that won’t stand out so much?”
Wendy scoffed. “Pffft, I don’t see why when shitbag expects you to do just that. Besides, didn’t you tell me you always wanted to dye your hair a bright color when we lived in the dorms?”
