Chapter Thirty-Two

The drive to Marley's farm was nerve-wracking. I found myself whispering comfort words to Ellie, not sure if he needed to hear them or not. He even turned to me once and said, "I am under control."

I didn't want to take any chances.

"Just know," I say to him, "That Marley seems like a really nice guy. He wants to help us, and that is what he's doing, so he is absolutely no threat at all, alright?"

"I understand."

"Do you?"

He blinked at me the black in his eyes slowly dissipating, "I do."

And I decided to trust him, because there isn't any other option, and because I really, really wish I could trust him without overthinking it.

The truck pulls down a dirt road that led through a large field before a farmhouse came into view. There were cows in the pasture, and still crops in the field despite the storm last night.

When the truck came to a stop, I hopped out the back, and Ellie followed right behind me.

Marley exited the truck and came up to us with a warm smile. "You two survive the ride?"

I nod to him, "It wasn't so bad."

"Glad to hear it." He said, and moved towards the direction of the house, "House is a bit of a mess." He says with a clear of his throat, "Hope ya don't mind, I don't usually get visitors this time of the day."

I smile, "Trust me, I prefer a messy house over a clean one." And it was the truth.

He begins to walk up the pathway to the house, and I follow him. Ellie immediately grabs my sleeve, and I try to be quiet as I whisper, "What's wrong?"

"He is lying."

"What?"

"I."

"I don't understand." I shrug off his hand from my sleeve, "What are you talking about? I? What does that mean?"

"I."

I give him a confused look but was unable to say anything as Marley piped, "Everything alright?" He was standing by the door of his house, staring at the both of us as if we were the oddest pair he's ever seen. I don't really blame him.

"Yeah." I quickly reply, "Sorry, it's, uhh, been a long two days." I rush up the pathway, and Ellie follows, never moving an inch away from me, no matter how quickly I walk.

We enter the house and I was taken back by just how cluttered it was. It wasn't messy as he stated, it was just full of things. Many things, bookshelves were full of different statues, and ornaments, and books and tiny figurines filled up every corner and crevis of the house. The walls were blanketed in different paintings, and pictures, all of opposing scenery and settings. Nothing matched in the house, but it incongruously worked.

"I enjoy antiquing." Marley confessed, "Always did have a soft spot for the old days."

"I can tell." I say, noticing an old crate of empty soda bottles that definitely dated back before my own father was born. "Some of this stuff looks like it'll fall apart any moment."

"That's because some of this stuff has been around since the 1800's." He walked over to a large, iron rusted hook that hung on the wall. It looked heavy, and bigger than both mine and Ellie's hands put together. "This here is a mine shaft hook, dating back to 1812. I look at it occasionally and mull over its history. A fascinating time it was." He moved to a table that had a wooden box of tools all wrapped in separate cloths. He grabbed one and unfolded the cloth, presenting the item in front of me, "This here is a carpenter's socket," I had no idea what a carpenter's socket is, but it looked like a knife, but with a flat tip. "Some of the furniture in this house was carved by this tool."

I pretended to look interested, it's not that I didn't appreciate antiques myself, but I was too exhausted and hungry to even process what Marley was saying. I noticed Ellie was staring not at the item Marley was holding, but at Marley himself.

His eyes were a very dull grey, darker than what they were before. I wasn't sure why he was so suddenly on edge, but the very thought that he's being bothered, concerned me.

I elbowed his arm, and he slowly looks from Marley to me, "Alright?" I ask and he simply nods.

Finally, Marley concludes his history lesson by offering us a seat in the dining room, which was just another room full of things, but in the middle was a common wooden table and chairs.

Ellie and I sat together, and Marley pulled out a seat opposite from us, but didn't sit down, "I'll go check on the wife. Not sure when dinner will be done, but I ain't gonna make you wait here and starve." He left through a doorway that I assumed led to the kitchen.

Ellie turned to me the moment Marley was out of sight, "I am concerned."

"Why?" I ask, narrowing my eyes, "Marley is a bit strange, but he's seems very nice."

"I do not think he is nice."

"You don't think anyone is nice."

"I think you are nice, Ripley, but I do not think Marley is."

I frown at that, "Okay, tell me why you don't think he's nice."

"I." He stares at me and I wait for him to explain but he doesn't. He quickly grabs my hand from underneath the table when Marley walks back in, as if he was expecting Marley to attack us.

He doesn't.

Instead, he's holding a bowl of blueberries, two empty glasses, and a carton of milk. "Dinner isn't quite done yet but I got you two something to satiate yourselves for the time being."

I hear Ellie mumble the word, "I" under his breath, and I pretend I didn't hear him.

Marley placed the blueberries in front of us, and I couldn't help but notice they were a bit overripe and soft. He poured us each a glass of milk which smelled sour.

I reached out for the glass just to be nice, but Ellie gripped my elbow, pulling my arm back. Marley noticed the action, and frowned, "Something wrong?" He was looking at Ellie, which meant the was asking him the question. I opened my mouth to speak for him, because I didn't think Ellie would respond, and of course, he didn't.

"He's just tired." I half-lie, "I don't think either of us are thinking straight."

"There's a spare bedroom in the back, if you both would like to rest before it's time to eat."

I ponder the offer, but to my surprise, Ellie shakes his head, "No." He says, but nothing more comes out of his mouth. I would have accepted the invitation to sleep on a bed, but I wasn't going to make Ellie anymore uncomfortable than he already was. If he said no, then no it was.

Marley's eyebrows lift, but he doesn't object, "Well, you're welcome if you change your mind."

"Thank you for the offer, though." I say, "Ellie isn't one to trust people so quickly."

Marley smiled, "I get it. It's a dark world out there."

I wanted to tell him he had no idea, but I stayed quiet.

We talked for a bit about irrelevant subjects, really to pass the time. Ellie was still, and his eyes were locked on Marley like he was ready to lunge at any second.

I kept my arm on his, just in case.

I did find it strange, however, that his eyes never bled any deeper black than the minor grey that they were. In fact, if you didn't know Ellie's normal eye-color, you wouldn't even realize they were unnaturally grey to begin with.

I hoped, for only a while longer, that he would contain himself.

Marley was talking about how he and his wife were planning a minor vacation down to Florida for a few days. Something about having kids down there and visiting family. I pretended to seem interested, but my mind drifted to the many things sitting in the room, to Ellie's posture, to the smell of smoke that filled my lungs.

The moment I breathed it in, Marley seemed to have detected it too, as he stood up quickly, "Shit, smells like something's burning, I'll be right back."

Ellie stood up the moment he was gone, in an urgency I've never seen him have, "We should leave."

"What? Wait-" He grabbed my arm so suddenly that I was taken back, "Ellie what the hell are you doing?"

Our eyes were leveled, "Leave." He said so sternly that I failed to argue. Wide-eyed, and taken back, I just nodded, and let him guide me to the front door of the house. I reached out to open it, but strangely enough the doorknob refused to budge. There were no locks on it, which was strange for a front door, but surely it couldn't be locked.

"It won't open." I say to Ellie, who tried to open it, but fails as much as I. If he can't even open it, then it is no usual door.

"Ellie." I breathe, feeling my heart suddenly pick up in anticipation, "Why don't you trust Marley?"

"I."

"What does I mean?"

"He did not say we, he said I."

I want to rip my hair out as I turn to twist the doorknob, "I still don't know what you're talking about." I grit my teeth, trying with all my strength to twist the knob.

Nothing. It will not move.

"I don't usually get visitors this time of the day. That is what he said. I."

"And?"

"He does not have a wife, or else he would have said we, it is English grammar, Ripley, I know English grammar now."

"That's an absurd speculation, and oddly specific." And yet, thinking about it, we still haven't met his wife. And what did the time of day have to do with getting visitors? I stop trying to twist the knob and began to think. We haven't seen his wife, haven't heard her, and there's no way two people could live in this house together, it's too crowded. The food he fed us was sour and rotten, no normal person would think that was okay.

I look around the room. Dust coated nearly everything, along with dirt in the corners of the room, and a strange smell that I had first assumed to be the abundance of antiques, may just be mold.

I lean against the door, feeling stupid for being so oblivious, "You're right," My heart is running at full speed now, "He's lying to us."

"We should leave."

"Yeah, but how?"

I see a shadow to my left, and I hesitantly look over to see Marley standing in the doorway of the dining room, he's holding three empty bowls, and looks genuinely baffled, "Are you leaving?" He sounds shocked.

"Your door won't open." I tell him, pretending to be a lot more confident than I am. Ellie takes a very clear step in front of me, as though he was my shield.

Marley sighed, and placed the bowls down on a small light stand. "That's because it's locked."

"Then unlock it."

"Let's just eat some dinner, you are clearly exhausted, and probably starving."

"I said unlock the door, Marley." My voice gets louder, "We are leaving."

"No." He contradicts, and I feel my heart drop, as I watch him pull a small pistol from the back hem of his pants. It was completely hidden underneath his shirt; I would have never seen it. "I'd like you to stay for a bit."