Enticed by Amy Malone Page B

road.
    Alana stopped, balanced the bike with one leg on the pavement, and smiled.
    “I was wondering when you were gonna say ‘hi’,” she said. After that, they became fast friends.
    Those summers with Alana had passed in a blur, never seeming to last quite long enough. She was from the city, and only visited when school was out and her parents were looking to vacation. Mark had always wondered why they never took Alana wit h them, but was grateful they didn’t. There was something sophisticated about her, mature. This was despite her goofy, laughing, exterior. He often felt like a bumpkin in comparison, not as well educated, nuanced, or tactful. Maybe that’s what she’d liked about him. That would be pretty ironic, as he had worked hard to become more similar to her. Yes, in time his ambitions became his own, but the seed - the very start of it - had started with Alana. He realized with a shock that, had been what had attracted him to Tammy.  It had been because of her similarities to Alana both physically and personality wise. But Tammy lacked the ease and glowing authenticity that Alana had had. Not to mention the integrity and straightforwardness.
    Mark too k one long last gulp, the ice in the drink freezing his upper lip a moment. Then he slammed the glass back down, nodding to the owner as he did so. The owner nodded back, warily. It was time to leave. But where? For a moment, he had the crazy thought of visiting Alana’s aunt down the road from his grandfather’s house, but decided against it. Mark reached into his pocket, placed a few bills on the counter, and sauntered out the door. It was time to go home.
     
    Alana tossed her bag onto the ancient bus depot bench, plopping herself alongside it. She felt worn out. Tired. To her dismay, she’d found that the local rental car service closed early on weekends, and apparently there were no local cabs, either. Her aunt was off vacationing and had probably taken a ride from one of their neighbors. The old ford pickup might still be in her driveway, but it was an hour and a half trek from the bus station to her aunt’s house. Alana sighed. If she left now, she might have just enough time to make it there before nightfall. Assuming she remembered the way.
    Leaving the bus depot and turning at the old corner store (which she was surprised to find intact and unchanged despite the years) she walked along the main thoroughfar e. She knew well what a sleepy town it was, but each time she happened to walk these streets after six p.m. it reminded her of a ghost town.
    A few miles along out of the main outcropping of buildings, a dirt road offshoot jutted to the left. Grateful for her good preparation, she took her flashlight out of her bag, turning it on. The forest was alive with the sounds of small creatures, but Alana had long ago been taught which noises were worth listening to. She remembered walking along the dirt path to the lake, following Mark’s every carefully placed step to avoid making noise.
    ‘’ Shh,” Mark had said once, lifting a finger and pointing toward a ruffling noise in the undergrowth.
    “Mark, what is it?” she’d asked in a rushed whisper. Mark, never taking his eyes off of the spot between two large pine trees responded.
    “ I think it’s a wolf,”
    Brought back to the present by a noise in the woods, Alana froze . She could hear something in the distance. It sounded like a growl, or a rumble. When it got closer, two bright lights lit up the path from behind her. It was a car. She got to the side of the road, half hoping the car would stop - half not. Sure enough it pulled up next to her, the window rolling down slowly. It was, Alana noticed, an expensive looking car.
    “Alana?” came a voice from inside.
    Alana waited a moment for her eyes to adjust, but recognized the face after a few moments. Covered in a scraggly beard and a bit older, but still with the same essential, rugge d, handsome features, sat Mark.
    “Mark?! Oh my