The Root of Misbelief

‘Courage is knowing what not to fear.’ Clementine wondered what Plato would say if he saw his words stamped on a t-shirt worn by the most easily intimidated person on the planet. He’d be less than impressed by the endless list of her current fears.

The oppressive darkness of the night swallowed every mile she drove, and the barely visible road in front of her winded through deserted fields. She thought of all the terrifying answers waiting ahead and the lost opportunities she had left behind.

Like a mantra, Clementine repeated the words ‘I can do this’ to take courage. Between deep breaths, she did her best to ignore the cold sweat trailing down her back and the slight tremor in her hands. She needed to do this. There was no turning back. She better woman up and do it.

Tightening her hands on the wheel, she pressed on the pedal and gained speed. At four in the morning and traveling through unfamiliar territory, her recently acquired driving skills were being tested.

“Eyes open,” she muttered, scrutinizing the pavement.

Despite the darkness, the road was clear and easy enough to travel, so the conditions weren’t the worst for a late-night trip. However, Clementine was wound up so tightly that she was one scare away from driving off the road.

Her ramshackle, second-hand car had only known the well-paved roads from her apartment to the campus, so this journey was an endurance test for both of them. Hours earlier, she had hung up the most dreadful phone call of her life. Immediately after getting off the phone, she packed a messy bag, spent a small fortune on gas, and jumped in her car to set course to the town of Mooresville.

Driving with only the company of a worn-out map and a grim radio station, she navigated the rural roads of Montana, heading to a place she had never visited before.

A little over five years ago, her father had spent all his savings on buying the place he always wanted. A beautiful piece of land in the middle of the woods, where he could build a cabin, fish, and grow some seeds. Right after Clementine moved away to college, he took the plunge and followed his dreams.

She was fond of that memory. The day he departed for his new home, Charles had a big smile on his face and a million ideas he wouldn’t shut up about. Father and daughter dreamt of the day they could be reunited to enjoy this new chapter of their lives.

As a scholarship student, Clementine’s studies occupied most of her time and the part-time jobs took over the rest. It was only thanks to the daily video calls and the unstoppable thread of pictures she knew every nook and cranny of his home.

What she didn’t know was the route traversing through the mountains.

“I’ll get there soon. Stop imagining the worst. Dad is fine.”

A puff of breath floated in front of her and Clementine wondered if her car could withstand turning the heating on. It was early October, but the night’s low temperature had numbed her hands. Too stressed to try her fortune, she endured the chill while the last conversation with her dad crossed her mind.

She barely understood a word. Most of it was incomprehensible driveling, and the slurring in Charles’ voice warned her about his drunken state. Her father never drank. But what alarmed Clementine the most were his sobs. The last time she heard her father cry was eighteen years ago when her mother abandoned them.

Before he could explain anything, the call disconnected, leaving her with nothing but fear and a very vivid imagination.

“Hang on, Daddy. I’m coming.”

The next couple of hours were a constant struggle between focusing on the road and allowing her mind to follow the darkest paths. Charles had to be all right. He had to be. After years of being apart, graduation had come and gone, and they both planned a million things they would do together before she started her new job. The job she probably would lose, because her first interview started in four hours. This is an emergency. They have to understand.

In terms of dreams, Clementine didn’t ask for much. A part-time job as a vet assistant sounded romantic enough, even with the sketchy schedule, the laughable pay, and the horrifying daily commute. She was eager to work and save some money.

Seeing her father happy and free of worries was another of those elusive dreams.

When the first lights of dawn brought out the shape of trees, she rolled out her shoulders and glanced at the surrounding beauty. Opening the window to allow the breeze to enter, Clementine took a deep breath of sweet air.

She snuggled deeper into her seat, relieved to see in the distance a sign informing the town of Mooresville was almost within reach. A faint fog enveloped her car, giving her surroundings an eerie atmosphere that made her consider how alone she was on this road. Not an unpleasant thought.

Despite her concerns, she smiled. “Don’t worry, Dad. Whatever it is, we will solve it. You’ll see. I’ll get there soon, hug you, and I’ll prepare us the biggest pancake—”

She slammed the brakes so hard it was only by a hair she didn’t smash her teeth against the steering wheel. Clementine could have sworn a scream left her lips, but she didn’t remember hearing it. As her blood rushed away from her face, all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

As soon as the backlash crushed her against the seat, her eyes shot open to stare at the immobile hooded figure in the middle of the road. “Oh, shit.” Her voice quivered.

Hands trembling, she unfastened her seatbelt and climbed off the car, disregarding any safety measures. She needed to know if the man was all right. I didn’t hit him, did I? She had no memory of a crash, but adrenaline had overridden short-term memory and apparently, her common sense.

“I’m so sorry!” She rushed toward him. “Are you all right? Do you need any—?”

Clementine sucked in a breath and planted her feet on the ground once she gave the man a good look. The six-foot-three hulking figure hadn’t moved an inch, but his threatening appearance froze her on the spot. From under his hoodie, Clementine spotted a scarred face covered by an overgrown beard and haggard eyes fixed on her.

She noticed his clothes—battered and worse for wear—showing clear signs of needing a good wash. The man didn’t say a word; his lips pressed into a thin line. Everything about him screamed ‘danger.’

I’m an idiot! Why am I standing here? Her self-preservation instincts kicked in, ushering her to climb back to her car and drive as fast as the wind. Too scared to act with wisdom, she remained in place and looked away from the menacing man to a truck parked farther down the road, and then back at him. At the ominous bundle of fabric in his arms.

“Did you kill it?” she asked.

From the bundle, the head and limbs of a dog hung loosely. The sheer amount of blood was enough to confirm there was no saving the poor animal.

“What?”

His hoarse voice was barely a whisper, but it carried over the mist. Clementine’s blood ran cold when she noticed the angry scowl on his face. I shouldn’t have said that! Would he be too offended if she just got into her car and drove off?

There was no one else in sight, and she was standing a few feet away from a towering man covered in puppy blood. A ‘Missing Person’ image with her picture attached flashed in her mind, and she tightened her fists to prevent them from shaking.

I need to leave! Could he catch her if she ran?

The man took one step in her direction and said, “Listen—”

Clementine’s breath hitched in her throat the moment he moved. Without a second glance, she turned on her heels, climbed back into her car, and drove around the man. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him following her frantic escape, but he didn’t make any other move.

A few minutes later, the first houses appeared in the distance, but Clementine was yet to regain her composure. “Oh, god!” she breathed out, unnerved by the calamitous drop in her driving skills. The ghastly experience left her shaken, but her dad still needed her.

It was already six in the morning, and a few early birds headed toward their daily businesses on the main road. Clementine parked as neatly as she could and opened her window wide. She didn’t trust her legs to carry her and her previous encounter had left her more than a little fearful. On the sidewalk, a decent-looking man fumbled with his keys.

“Excuse me,” she called, startling the man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry, miss.” He waved a hand, smiling. “That was my fault. I still haven’t had my morning coffee. What can I do for you?”

He took a few steps closer and Clementine sighed, relieved to see a friendly face after her not-so-friendly previous encounter. “This might be a stretch, but… I’m looking for Charles Morgan. I’m his daughter, Clementine. Do you know him, by any chance?”

“Yes! Oh my, good old Charles.” His smile broadened. “He’ll be so glad to have you here. He hardly speaks about anything but you. Clemy this, Clemy that.”

Cringing after hearing the awful nickname, Clementine pressed on. “I’m afraid I’m visiting unannounced and I don’t know how to get there.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” the man said as he searched his pockets. “Give me a second and I’ll draw you a map. Is not far, but getting there is tricky.”

A few minutes later, Clementine took one last turn on an inconspicuous entryway, driving slowly to identify her father’s cabin. The last thing she needed was to break into a stranger’s property. Cruising on the dirt road, she parked in front of a charming wooden bungalow surrounded by potted plants and fallen leaves. Relieved to see her father’s truck near the entrance and the lights inside the house on, she rushed to the door, impatient to meet good old Charles and ask him what the hell was going on.

“Dad!” She banged on the door, not caring about startling her old man. “Dammit Dad, if this is one of your weird jokes, I swear I’ll—”

Her fist flew right through the threshold when the door yanked open. Standing there and swaying back and forth, Charles stared at his daughter with glossy eyes. Clementine gaped at his disheveled state, and a whiff of alcohol drifted her way.

“Dad?”

“Oh, my Clemy! My girl, I’m so happy to see you.” He snatched her off her feet, hugging her so tight Clementine lost her breath. “You shouldn’t have come. What about your work?” he said between hiccups. “I’m so glad you’re here, my girl!”

She patted his back. “Of course, I’m here. You look like shit.”

He chuckled, parting from her. “That sounds about right…”

“What’s wrong, Dad?”

Charles walked toward the kitchen and kicked a pair of discarded boots, topping over an empty beer bottle. Clementine stepped inside and looked around the house, surprised to see it so unkempt. Her father had always been a tidy man, but now he sat with his head between his hands, surrounded by dirty dishes. The image of utter despair.

“I’m dying, Clem.”