Page 78 of Zombies, Satyrs and Vampires, Oh My!

finding joy (bonus story!)

chapter

one

Malcolm

Six months ago, I was one of those guys.

You know, the ones that have everything: a fancy car, a nice house, a hot wife.

Yeah, that was me. I had it all. Of course, the only thing that really mattered was the hot wife. Joy. That's her name, Joy, and it fits her perfectly. She is the epitome of joy.

I never really knew what happiness was until her. Never knew what contentment was until she came into my life. And we were happy.

We were so fucking happy.

Then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

She went on a girls’ trip, just a weekend away with her best friend, Amelia. They’d gone on trips before, but this time she didn’t come home.

For an entire week, I called every hospital and police station I could, doing everything I could think of to find her. Was she hurt somewhere? Lost and unable to get help?

At my company, I put everyone I employed on the task. Even offered a sizable bonus to anyone who found her. No one could find anything. Seemingly impossible, considering we're a security company.

Then, a week later, I came home from work to find a note from her. Her clothes and belongings were gone, and on the counter, she left me a note and her wedding band.

A Dear John letter, if you will.

Dear Malcolm.

“We had a good run. But things have changed for me, and rather than prolong the pain, I'm just ripping off the proverbial bandage and leaving now. I hope you have a great life.

Joy.

That had been six months ago.

I haven’t heard from her since.

But I haven’t stopped looking for her. Not by a long shot. I’ve hired every private investigator I can find. Even some that weren’t that reputable. Any and all roads led to nothing, as if she simply vanished into thin air. The most bothersome thing about it is that her best friend, Amelia, disappeared too. They just never came back from that girls’ weekend.

Fuck, I miss her. Miss her laugh and her smile. Miss the way she hums while she bakes. And how she is in a horrible mood in the mornings until she’s had at least two cups of coffee. I miss cuddling in bed together on Saturday mornings and watching wretchedly bad science fiction monster movies. I’ve never laughed so hard and so often as I have with her.

Then, last night, I got a call.

Jones, an old friend who had been in intelligence at some point. I thought he’d been a long shot, considering he hadn’t given me a scrap of hope when I asked him to look for my wife. Not sure if that’s what made him different, or his background as a spy, but he called last night and told me to meet him today.

So here I am waiting at a hole-in-the-wall bar called The Devil’s Den, about two hours from my house. The floors are sticky, and the walls are dark and covered in old license plates. I’m not even sure where I am, other than the last sign I saw said that I was fifteen miles away from Stream in the Woods. Though all of the signs for the town I’ve passed have been graffiti-ed and the name changed to Screaming Woods.

Small towns can be strange, though.

I’m down to one finger of my two-finger bourbon when Jones walks in. He definitely looks the part of the nomadic biker with his black leather jacket, black shades, and heavy boots. He spots me in the corner booth and makes his way over.

“Malcolm,” he says as he lowers himself onto the bench.

“Jones,” I say. I’ve never known if that’s his first or last name. Though it doesn’t actually matter. “Why the hell did I have to drive all the way out to the middle of nowhere for us to meet?”

He pulls his shades off and sets them on the tabletop. He levels his pale blue eyes at me. “I found them. And we’re close.”