Tanya's fingers itched. When she got home, she washed her hands. Some of the glistening substance from the TV had stuck to her pants, so she took them off and ran them under the hot spray of the shower, watching the jelly slurp down the drain. Then, she threw her pants in the dryer and went to her room. None of the ooze remained by the time she sat in front of her computer. She had no hives or rash on the pads of her fingers. The itch came from somewhere beneath her skin.
That can't be good.
She opened her dashboard and checked the comments on her latest video. Lots of people told her to get well soon. One guy told her to get some help. Another said she was full of shit, saying what she said for attention. It made her think of VV and Rusted Blood.
She thanked the well-wishers, ignored the unsolicited advice, and gave the scolder a thumbs down. She closed her browser and rubbed the pads of her fingers. She looked again for any sign of irritation, but her skin was still unblemished. Just in case, she went to the bathroom and put some CeraVe on the affected areas.
Downstairs, the house seemed unusually quiet. Tanya peeked out the window to check for her parents' cars. Both were parked in the driveway, her mother's seldom-driven Prius covered in a coat of fallen leaves. They could've been sleeping, but it was mid-afternoon, and they weren't the types to take naps during the day.
The weirdness of her last few days compelled her to check the rest of the house. She didn't see them in their room or either of their offices. Neither parent was out in their vegetable garden or working in the garage. Tanya's pulse throbbed between her ears. It felt almost like a hangover, a wine hangover—the worst kind.
The first time she got drunk, she and Athena had killed a magnum of white zinfandel and another of chardonnay. She'd gotten all weepy about her shitty week at work and how Uncle Bentley's disappearance had affected her childhood. In the moments before she woke, a cataclysmic flash of light exploded through her mind. She visualized it as the detonation of an H-bomb, ravaging the world, reducing buildings and people alike to ash. When she opened her eyes, she felt like she'd lived through such a disaster, but the light had come from the sun shining through Athena's bedroom window, punishing her for the previous night's decisions.
It wasn't that bad now, this pain in her head, but it felt like a ghost of that pain, or an omen of pain to come. She got her phone and texted her mom.
Where are you guys?
She peeped out the window again. The cars were still there. She checked the other rooms again, even looking under beds and in closets. This wasn't like her, and she didn't like it. Despite her fascination with darker subjects and conspiracies, she never viewed herself as a paranoid person. More than once, she reminded herself (and anyone who questioned her) that she didn't believe any of the more outlandish theories she examined on her channel. Every case, no matter how bizarre or inexplicable, had a logical explanation.
But now she found herself wondering when she'd last seen her parents. Had they slipped out of reality the way others seemingly had? Were her memories of their presence in her life even reliable? What if—
The front door swung open, and she sprinted out of her parents' closet to check who'd come in. Both her mother and father stood in the living room, wearing workout clothes.
"Tanya," Mom said. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," Tanya nearly squeaked.
Her father wrinkled his brow. "Where are your pants?"
She looked down at her bare legs. Her cheeks got hot.
"They got dirty," she said. "I'm washing them."
"Are you sure you're all right?" Mom asked. "You seem a little … I don't know. Does she seem a little peaked, Richard?"
"Probably working too hard, as usual," Dad said and flashed his daughter a smile.
Mom looked at her, eyes flooded with worry.
"That's probably it," Tanya said. "Where were you guys?"
"We went for a walk," Mom said.
"We're trying to get our high school figures back," Dad said.
"Oh, stop." Mom gave Dad a light shove.
It was nice to see them smile.
"Well, I gotta get back to work," she said.
"The life of a celebrity never stops," Dad said.
"Don't embarrass her."
"Yeah, what Mom said."
"Should we do dinner tonight?" Mom asked, looking from daughter to Dad.
"I think that sounds splendid," Dad said. "I'll make gyros!"
Mom mimed barfing on the floor out of Dad's line of sight. He had only cooked gyros once, and his attempt at homemade Tzatziki sauce tasted like sour cream left out in the sun. It had become a running joke between her parents in the years since. He wouldn't be making gyros and likely wouldn't be cooking at all tonight.
"Okay, sure," Tanya said, nodding. "I'll put on pants between now and then."
They laughed, and she went back to her room. Her head still throbbed. Her fingers still itched. Seeing her parents had brought only slight relief. Frank was still missing. Athena was a mess. Tanya herself might be going crazy. She pulled out her phone and opened Instagram. She messaged Vanessa.
Hey. Can we talk?
She sat on the edge of her bed and clutched the phone in both hands. Minutes passed without a reply, and she studied the layout of her room. The occult books she'd inherited from her grandfather on one shelf. All the true crime books she'd bought on another. Eldritch Youth poster on one wall. Crusty Cory Jay behind his signature neon skull mask on the wall opposite. Black curtains and her recording setup. Candles on her nightstand and a cheap chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was a cool space, but it felt restrictive now. Maybe it was time to get her own place. Maybe she just needed—
She unlocked her phone and opened the thread between her and Vanessa. A checkmark showed her previous message had been received. With a groan, Tanya typed, It's important.
As she made to set her phone down, the reply came through.
Sure. Give me a few.
She wanted to type A few what? A few seconds or a few hours?
Instead, she typed, Thank you. I'll be at my computer, so Skype when you're ready.
Tanya plopped in her chair. The familiar tones played through her headphones almost immediately after she put them on her ears. She clicked the ANSWER button, and Vanessa appeared on the screen. The woman who called herself VV and claimed the makers of a video game somehow exploited her personal trauma was outside walking. There were trees in the background, and her shoes crunched on gravel. She didn't look happy to have her afternoon stroll interrupted.
"So, what's up?" she asked.
"Thank you for calling me," Tanya started.
"You said it's important."
"It is … I—"
"Did you leave it alone like I told you?"
"I think it's too late," Tanya said, barely above a whisper. She was unsure if she spoke this way out of shame or residual paranoia.
"Why? What happened?"
She no longer sounded annoyed, but she didn't sound warm and fuzzy either. She sounded like someone who only wanted the facts. Her voice carried an almost procedural tone, like something Tanya would hear on a cop show.
"One of my friends is missing now," she said. "It's weird how it happened too."
She went on to explain the random dick pic, the undisturbed state of his apartment, and the takedown of his socials. She left out the part about the ooze. That was too weird, even for what Vanessa had claimed to have gone through. As if her thoughts summoned the sensation, her fingers itched. She rubbed them on the edge of her chair.
"Is that it?" Vanessa asked. "It sounds pretty straightforward to me. He's probably lying low after embarrassing himself, taking stock of how much he's ruined his life."
"No, something was off. It's not like him to send that kind of message. He loves my friend."
"Unfortunately, they rarely seem like the type."
"Why are you being so fucking dismissive?"
Vanessa darkened but didn't respond at first. Instead, she focused on walking, hardly making eye contact with the camera. She hadn't frozen and didn't seem about to terminate the call. She only kept walking, mouth moving but not opening, as if she were clenching her teeth.
"I told you to leave it alone."
"I did!"
"No, I don't think so. You attract them when you think about them too much."
"How do you know what I'm thinking, and who the fuck are they?"
The screen went black. A blinking message told Tanya the call had ended. With a frustrated huff, she clicked the button to make a callback. When Vanessa didn't answer, Tanya closed her laptop and pushed away from her desk. She rubbed her thumb across her itchy fingers but stopped immediately. She felt something on the affected areas, something that hadn't been there half an hour ago. She held her index and middle fingers up to her face, and her whole body went cold. Two orange bumps had popped up on each digit. They looked like ant bites, but she knew better.
This can't be good.
"We'll do dinner in an hour," Mom called up the stairs.
Tanya looked from her door to her fingers.
This really can't be good.