Zivah
Legacy Name: Zivah

The Motel 8 was about a ten minute drive from the house and while my Ram was still driving real smooth, I couldn't think about it anymore so I drove without thought. I was so tired, confused, angry...mostly tired. That had to be it.

The Motel was run down, the parking lot almost completely empty when I pulled up to the front doors. There was another pickup truck off to the other side of the lot, and I vaguely wondered if that poor fucker also got kicked out of his house. There was no good reason to be at the Motel 8 unless it was for drugs or prostitutes, for their sake I hoped that was why they was here because the walk of shame up to the front door felt real humiliating.
Kicked out of my own goddamn house. Great.

The lady at the desk was old and withered, her crypt keeper like hands typing slowly on the old boxy PC computer in front her. "How many nights will you be staying with us?" She croaked, or maybe creaked fit better.
I shifted my weight under the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. God, this was embarrassing, "I don't know."
She glanced from her computer to me, raising an eyebrow before she typed something else and slid a plastic card across the table to me, "Room 384." She said simply.
"Thanks," I pocketed the card and made my way down the dingy, poorly lit hallway to my room.

The room was exactly what I expected it to be. Dimly lit, dusty, cold with a grim view of the highway out of the smudged window. I tossed my duffel bag on the bed. It landed with a sad thud on the creaky mattress.

Home sweet home.

I was too tired to care about the head lice or bed bugs I'd probably acquire from the bed. I curled up against my duffel bag and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I awoke sometime later; It was still cold in the room, but much darker. I reckoned it was sometime in the middle of the night and there was a terrible tapping noise in my head that made me squint against a migraine forming behind my eyes. It took me a few seconds to find my bearings.

Ah, yes...That.

I didn't have a whole lot of time to reflect on what landed me here because the tapping was getting louder and it wasn't just in my head. Someone was at the door. I clumsily swayed across the room to open the door just to get the terrible tapping to stop. When I opened the door, I had to look down to meet her eyes.

She wasn't young but definitely not old; very short, skinny, pale, and....?
"Who are you?" was what I settled to ask.
The girl tucked a lock of shine less brown hair behind her ear as she ruefully looked down at the ground, then back up at me.
"The ice machine just went down. I was wondering if you had any ice?"
I blinked for a minute before responding, "I don't, sorry."
I went to close the door but her hand shot out stopping it.
"I saw you come in earlier." She blurted out with a weird tinge to her tone, like she was accusing me of something.
I gently pushed her hand away from the door frame.
Her skin was ice cold, but I persisted, "Miss, I don't have ice, and I'm not interested in any...services. Please go away." I tried once again to shut the door and again her hand shot out to stop me.
"I'm not a prostitute!" She huffed.
"Good for you." I wasn't sure where this was going,
"Sir, please, "she insisted, "May I come in?" and there it was.
"No." I pushed her hand aside once more, with more force, and shut the door quickly.

I shook the weirdness off of me with a shrug of my shoulders and went back to bed. I had just gotten laid down when the phone on the nightstand began to ring. It was all too weird for me. Something was attaching itself to me and I hated it. There it was again, the liminal feeling I just couldn't shake.

I picked the phone up and slammed it back down. A few seconds went by as I stared at the phone waiting- and it was ringing again. I snatched the phone up with a growl, "What do you want from me?"
"I just want to talk to you." It was the girl from the door, very obviously her voice.
I slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

Rolling onto my side so my back was to the phone. I put my hands over my ears and clenched my eyes shut trying to stop the noise. Block it out, block all of it out. I receded so far into myself that nothing could touch me. Not Anna, not the motel girl, not Boogey.
No one, not even himself.

By the time I woke again, it was light outside. Well as light as November in Oklahoma was anyway. Light streamed through the crooked blinds casting dust into a spotlight in horizontal beams to the carpet. I rubbed the grit from my eyes and just laid there on my back, staring at the ceiling.

It felt almost like a fever dream, all day and night. I wondered when that lingering liminal feeling would leave, when it would stop hanging above my head and leaving a bitter taste across my tongue.
There was a glaze of dried cold sweat all over me, deciding a shower should be first priority. I could worry and mull over this shit later, after my shower. I slipped into the tiny bathroom.

First, the light didn't work. I flipped it back and forth but nothing. Then, "no towels?" I mumbled under my breath, of course not. Why would anything be easy at this rate?
I stuffed my feet back into my boots and started down the dingy hall to the front desk. I was halfway down the hall, rounded a corner and-

"Fuck," I swore under my breath. Weird girl was posted at the vending machine on the back wall. I had almost convinced myself I dreamed her, but when her eyes landed on mine I saw recognition. I tried to turn and retreat back to the safety of my room but she was bounding up to me.
"Akisen, please just listen to me." I spun around to face her, feeling as if the room dropped a few degrees and a cold settled over me.
"How do you know my name?" I demanded, "Who are you?"
The girl shrank back, "I'm Zivah, please just hear me out."
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, considering my options. Well, since Motel 8 was now my home, and this Zivah girl wasn't going anywhere, then I would have to get her to go away somehow else. Whatever, sure. I'd listen to her, I mean it was clear she knew about me already. I wasn't convinced I could get her to leave me alone at that point.
"Fine, but I want a shower first." I said crossing my arms, "Where can I find some damn towels around here?"

In hindsight, it was pretty dumb of me to think I could relax with a steaming hot shower. The water pressure was shaky at best, the water lukewarm and almost thick and I stepped out feeling no cleaner than when I hopped in. It was...something, at least? The tiny motel soaps were charming. Smelled like chalk and left my skin feeling like it to.
I got dressed in an old, sort of clean bootcuts and an ugly red knit sweater that was just as old. It was warm, which was all I cared about right now. I wasn't dressed to impress anyone, especially not a weird girl named Zivah who was apparently stalking me in a Motel 8.

I opened the door to my room and there she was. She was wearing a ratty looking beige sweater that might have been a different color at one point but had faded past that and a pair of dress slacks that looked entirely too long on her short frame. Her dull brown hair was pulled back and I started to wonder just how old was she. She couldn't be older than me, probably, but didn't look quite young enough to not be somewhat threatening.

Zivah led me further down the hall and stopped at the last room, "This is my room."
My arms crossed over my chest, "Okay? I'm not going in there."
She rolled her too-big hazel eyes. "And why not?"
I looked at her for a minute, "I don't know you?"
She put her hand to her hips clearly irritated, "What, you think I'm going to hurt you?" She dismissed, "Look at me. What could I possibly do to you?"
My brain thought of several things that she could do and none of them good, "Just so you know, I have a gun on me." I bluffed.
"No you don't." She challenged as she unlocked the door.

When I stepped into Zivah's room I was a little dumbfounded. "Just how long have you been here?" I asked hesitantly.

The room was covered in newspaper clippings pinned to the wall, clothes littered the floor, and empty food boxes strewn around some cluttering the dresser and nightstand. The newspaper were what made me feeling a weird type of way. Zivah pushed aside a stack of clothes from the bed to reveal a small pile of books, in rough condition; badly burnt with crusty covers and yellowing pages.

"Couple weeks." She mumbled under her breath without looking at me. As she rifled through the books I walked around slowly, so that I could look at the newspapers. They were all dated back to the 70s' sporting headlines like 'Family sells house for half a million in Tuska' and 'Family wins Tuska prize 4-H fair'.

I walked around trying to piece together why Zivah had so many clippings, and old ones at that, what the connection was and why exactly she cared so much about Tuska 4-H until the clippings started to turn darker. 'Family perishes in Tuska house fire', 'Investigators looking into death of Tuska woman.', 'Family of three found dead in home, suspected arson.'.

I stepped closer to a specific set of clippings, my body getting colder the closer I got. It was a picture of the farmhouse, the one I saw before...What Anna saw was the after November 1973.

I stumbled back my heart pounding in my chest as I whirled around to face her, "Who are you?
"Really?" With a sigh she shoved a book at me, already open to a well worn dogeared page. It was an old yearbook of my high school but it was from 1973. Zivah's finger landed on a photo of a pale blonde boy with eyes that smoldered even through the page. "Do you recognize him?"
My mouth went dry and I saw him. A flash of him in my mind, smoking his cigarette on the couch. He didn't like to hunt, he liked animals.

"I'm leaving." I said, ripping my eyes from the book.
Zivah threw the book aside with more force than necessary watching it bounce off the wall. "You do recognize him?" She pushed as she leapt in front of my path blocking the door,
"Akisen. Please, please tell me."
I exhaled between my teeth, "Look, lady, I don't know who you are or how you know me but I am asking you very kindly to leave me alone, alright? Now get. out. of. my. way."
My words clipped, defensive, it was all too much. Everything started to spin around me I remember trying to push past the girl when the ground came up to meet me.

Then it was dark. I woke up with a groan echoing in my ears only to realize it came from me. I bolted up and was quickly pushed back down by a small hand, somewhat forcefully. "Easy now, Akisen. Don't move so fast." Her voice brought everything back all at once. The newspaper clippings, the house fire, the family. Anna. Oh, Anna. My Anna... Zivah...
Boogey.
"No" I whispered as my voice cracked.
"Akisen, listen." Zivah sat on the edge of the bed hesitating before speaking, "I don't think you're crazy."
I rubbed my face, "What happened?"
She looked away at the question, shifting uncomfortably. "You fainted...Now do you see why I need to talk to you?" Her voice exasperated.
"How did you-" I grimaced, something itchy on my forehead. Gauze, I realized as my fingers brushed against it.
"Idiot," Zivah muttered, "Cracked you head real good on the desk. You're okay now."
I rested back on the pillow, to tired to fight at this point. "How did you know?" The question that I had been holding on to.
"You'll think I'm crazy." She retorted with a humorless chuckle.
"No crazier than me."
Zivah paused then took a deep breath as if bracing her self. "Well..."

Zivah was always weird. She felt things and heard things no one else could. She never told anyone growing up of course since she would have been called insane by everyone. Hell I probably would have called her crazy too, just a little under 24 hours ago.

"I felt things I couldn't explain," She continued handing me a drink, "I would feel emotions that weren't mine."

Zivah's problems only got worse as she got older. The feelings turned into seeing things- into knowing things that she had no real way of knowing. Zivah pretty much expelled herself out of secrecy when she was old enough to be on her own. No one would accept her, but she didn't mind being alone though she realized that she never was alone. People spoke to her from the 'beyond' These were her words, yeah The Great Beyond.

"So that's how you found out about me then? I asked once Zivah's talking had slowed to a trickle.
"Yes. She told me about you."
I paused to look at her again, "Who?"
Zivah chewed on the inside of her cheek and I rolled my eyes.
"Spit it out already, I can't faint again if I'm already laying down." I joked hoping to ease the tension, she didn't laugh instead she looked solemn.
"His mother." She spoke her words sluggish.
"Okay, who?"
Another pause. "Whittaker."
I sighed, "Who's Whittaker?" I asked and she scooped the yearbook back up into her slender hands and flipped it to a page, Boogy's page.

My stomach turned, but I was sober enough to get a good look at the page. Whittaker Abernathy. I laughed. In some sick, twisted way, it was funny. "He goes by Boogey."
Zivah's brows furrowed. "Boogey?"
"Sure beats Whittaker Abernathy if you ask me."
Zivah nodded, attempting to smile. "I...I guess so. I haven't talked to him before."
I paused, "Just the mother?"
Zivah shook her head looking at the book, "Clara passed away well before the fire. But she wanted me to look into it. I dont know why. I haven't had luck talking to wh- Boogey." She corrected.
"So, that's why you need me?" I sighed as realization set in. Zivah nodded again.
"You seem to have a connection to him. I knew when I saw you that you were the one."

I was quiet for a long moment, my gaze fixed to the ceiling. I needed time to think all of this over. Good news? I'm not insane. Bad news? a dead guy wants to talk to me. Why me? I hadn't a clue of this persons existence before my truck broke down. My life wasn't perfect but it used to be normal, now it was this? There wasn't anything special about me like Zivah. I didn't have some weird ethereal connection from the Great Beyond. My truck broke down, That was it.

"Well," I shrugged, "Now what?"
Zivah looked at her hands clasped in her lap, "You will have to decide that."
I say up annoyed now, “What? Do you want me to call Boogey on my ghost telephone, see if he wants to grab a beer?"
Zivah rolled her eyes, "Don't say ghost, you sound ridiculous."
I snapped, "Sorry, but the rest of this is totally normal, not ridiculous at all?"
Zivah glared her voice sharp, "It's not, but it is your new normal. Get used to it."

Great.

It got quiet between us for a long moment before Zivah cleared her throat. "I'm sorry about Anna."
Right. Anna.
"Weird."
Zivah glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, "What's weird? I'm showing you my condolences."
"Don't make this weird."
She looked at me and I looked back, then we laughed. It was dark and terrifying, so I just laughed. It felt like the only thing I could do.