The Lake in the Red Truck - Short Story - 2023

Nothingness was vast in the blank countryside, especially as the sky grew dark, sprinkled with stars that made the nothingness a little less lonely. Charlotte was just as alone in her car as the sky was in a city. Her face was dimmed with grief as she scanned the passenger seat that was unusually empty. She wanted to close her eyes and open them once more to see Ruby sitting there, just like it had always been before. That was the funny thing about death; it can only happen once and it can never be reversed.

As she drove towards the wall of trees that climbed up the horizon, her first stop emerged from lampposts that lined the building. She took one last sip from her tea until she fully looked around her. It was a small shack that contained a register and a woman to check her into a cabin to stay the night. The chime of bells rang when she opened the door accompanied by the sound of radio static.

“Evening, sweetie, you need a home for the night?” she asked. Her voice was sweet enough to call forth the birds.

“Yes, please.”

The old woman leaned in, “Dearest, can you speak up? My old ears aren’t helping me much these days.” Charlotte never had a loud voice and was muted more by the static.

She smiled a light chuckle as Charlotte spoke up, “I would like a cabin, please.”

The sound of a clanky keyboard surpassed the radio. “Sherry” was scribbled on the woman’s name tag that was pinned loosely onto her pink cardigan. Sherry looked like the kind of grandmother who would always have a fresh batch of cookies ready on a platter and a hot cup of tea on her own knitted coaster. She would ask about Charlotte and any love interest that may or may not exist and she would share the kind of wisdom only found engraved on ancient ruins.

“Can I have your name, dear?”

“Charlotte.”

Sherry typed quickly and no less quiet until she looked up with a key in hand, “Charlotte, your new home for the night is Cabin 13. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to come back here and knock on that back door.” Next to the counter was a green door with peeling paint. There was a sign on it that read Please Knock.

“Thank you, Sherry,” Charlotte said. She turned the doorknob with a creak until a voice called her back.

“Oh,” Sherry continued, “I know the forest can be scary when you’re out here all alone. Don’t let the little critters scare you; remember that they are more scared of you. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight,” Charlotte said as she turned on her heels.

The cool night welcomed her in open arms as the crickets played her a song. It was the kind of night that was near perfect. There was only one thing that could make it truly perfect, or only one person. Ruby.

A red truck with scratches on the side was spotlighted in one of the near lampposts. It stood there alone, just like she was. Down the path, Charlotte passed old cabins that were covered in leaves and pine needles until she found Cabin 13. As Sherry would say, her new home for the night. There was something about the word home that felt so comforting, so permanent, compared to a place to stay. Maybe this was what she was looking for; stability, comfort, a home.

She put her hand on the screen door and the wind pushed it open and forced her to jump back. It was dark inside and cobwebs filled the corners. There were two twin beds that both had their own quilt and pillow. With one pat to the colorful and messily stitched quilt, a cloud of dust emerged. This cloud reminded her of the fog on the night Ruby went missing. Charlotte was looking for her without being able to see a few feet in front of her. They were at a party and Charlotte hadn’t seen Ruby for nearly an hour. That was the kind of thing you weren’t supposed to do, especially at a lake house in a foreign, woodsy area. It was late and it was loud and Charlotte couldn’t stop fiddling her fingers. Only when she heard a scream did she start to run.

It was getting late as most of the other cabins had turned off their lights. Charlotte walked outside and let the cold air embrace her. Near the check-in building was the bathrooms building. The walk wasn’t long, but it was long enough to make bumps grow on her skin. A car horn beeped out of nowhere and forced her to turn around. Still, the red truck stood alone under the lamppost without a singular person in or near it. Around her, the ground was covered in leaves and gravel so Charlotte knew that she would’ve heard anyone that could be nearby. She thought that maybe there was someone playing some kind of sick joke on her so she approached the truck. She attempted to look through the window of the truck but only ended up seeing a reflection. This reflection wasn’t of her, but was Ruby.

Was this Ruby’s way of haunting her? Was this her way of blaming her for what happened that night? The reflection from the lake rippled while sirens wailed in the back. Sobs were heard from every direction. Still, people screamed Ruby’s name and for some reason, Charlotte’s. Ruby was the reflection in the water, but it only took a second to realize that she wasn’t a reflection, but a floating body. Charlotte looked down, her hands red and scratched. She was crying but she also felt this burning pain in her chest. Her fists were clenched in the dirty sand next to her knees.

Back at the truck, she looked at the reflection and saw herself. Her body was shaking, not shivering. Her cheeks were wet and rosy. The leaves on the ground crunched as she ran with her hair blowing behind her. It seemed like her lungs were failing her, her eyes dotting black. The bathroom approached quickly and she locked herself in the room full of stalls. Blood was pulsing through her. Despite the cold, her body was hot and sweat speckled her forehead. This happened once before when she was with Ruby and she remembered what Ruby told her.

“Ground yourself,” Ruby had said. “Tell me what you see, Charlotte.”

Charlotte looked around herself now, alone. She whispered to herself, or maybe Ruby’s spirit, “I see three sinks, four beige stalls, a brick in the corner.” She wondered what else there was, those things weren’t enough. The world was still spiraling away. “There are water stains on the ceiling, mold in crevices, and a dirty window that I can’t see out of.”

As she looked around her, she breathed in, forcing her lungs to work. In for four seconds, hold for four, out for four, and hold for four seconds. Over and over she did this until a loud knocking from the bathroom door disrupted her.

For only a moment she froze until she called out, “Who is it?”

It was quiet outside the door except for the whisper of the wind. “It’s your fault,” it taunted. “Why did you hurt her?”

Charlotte fell to the ground, her hands gripped her hair as she rocked back and forth. “It’s not my fault,” she said between her teeth, “Ruby wanted to die. I couldn’t stop her.”

The wind roared this time, “How did you know? How did you know that she wanted to die?”

The brick in the corner stared at Charlotte so she picked it up. She stood in the middle of the bathroom, spinning with her thoughts, looking for a way to make the wind stop talking and for the brick to stop staring.

“I saw it in her eyes, she was begging,” Charlotte said, nearly pleading for peace to rejoin her.

In her ears, the wind started screeching and the room started spinning out of control and the brick was staring into her soul. It was too much. There was no way she could ground herself. There was no way to control her breathing. In the corner of her eye she saw the window. Breathing was not a choice and her blood was not pumping into her heart. It was difficult, truly difficult for her to see.

She snapped.

With the brick in her hand, she threw it as fogged glass shattered onto the floor.

Charlotte imagined the green peeling door, she imagined Sherry in her pink cardigan. Would Sherry be the one to find her? Would the poison in her tea work? She didn’t want to be alive without Ruby. She didn’t want to live with just memories and regret. She didn’t want to live with the blaming wind and the cruel stares.

The world fell on her as she fell onto the floor. “I’m sorry, Ruby,” she whispered.

Her heart slowed and the last thing she saw was the red truck through the windowless hole. Inside the driver's seat was Ruby, her skin purple and her eyes bulged. Slowly, the truck filled with dirty lake water as Ruby’s mouth was open, sending bubbles into panic. Just as slowly, Charlotte let herself drown in grief and regret and guilt. It was her fault. She knew that now but it was too late. It was too late to save herself and it was especially too late to save Ruby. All Charlotte could do was save the rest of the world from her despondent fury.