Cursed Bunny(19)

“Teacher Lee, hurry!”

“The door won’t open.”

She doesn’t know what to do.

The thin voice commands, “It’s locked from the inside. You must unlock it.”

Feeling around the door handle again, she can feel the protrusions of buttons; she presses them, one by one. At the third button, she hears a clunk. The brief vibration felt through the door is as welcome as the Savior Himself.

She pulls at the door handle again. The door seems to open little by little. But it’s blocked by something.

“The door won’t open,” she says, pushing it with her shoulder.

From right beside her, the thin voice says, “That’s because the car is lodged in mud. Let me help you.”

Someone’s finger brushes against her hand that’s pushing the door. The door opens a little more.

“Quickly. Get out of there,” says the thin voice.

Doing as the voice commands, she brings her left leg out of the car first before suddenly remembering something.

“Wait … wait a second.”

She crouches down in the seat and starts to grope around beneath the steering wheel. The long thing on the right is the accelerator, the wide thing on the left is the brake. She stretches her right hand into the space below the pedals. She can feel the scratchy mat and the mud smeared on it. Of the thing she is searching for, nothing.

“What are you doing? You must get out of there immediately!” The thin voice is getting anxious.

“Just wait …”

Extending her hand even further beneath the seat, she feels a long, thin steel rod. It's probably the lever that adjusts the driver’s seat, moving it back and forth. She feels underneath it. Again, just the mat and mud, plus a little dust.

She can feel her left leg, the one that made it outside the car, slowly start to rise. The car door begins to close with it, putting pressure on her left leg.

The voice shouts, “Teacher Lee, hurry! I don’t know what you’re looking for, but just leave it and come out!”

“But … but …” She can’t bring herself to say it.

“But what? What is it?”

“Something very important …” Her voice trails off.

She touches her left hand with her right. There’s no ring on her left ring finger. Her hands feel about the driver’s seat where she’s sitting, then the passenger side.

“What could be so important? What is it?” the thin voice asks again.

Her left hand grabbing the frame of the car, she stretches her right arm as far as she can to beneath the passenger-side seat.

“A ring …”

Her hand can’t reach as far as the other seat; all she can grasp are the gearshift and handbrake. She manages to stretch her arm a little further. There’s no one in the passenger-side seat. Perhaps because of her odd posture, her hand can’t quite reach the bottom of the other seat.

The finger from before touches her left hand again.

“This. Is this what you’re talking about?”

A small, round, and hard object against her skin. Someone’s fingers slip it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

She sits up and touches her left hand with her right. It’s still impossible to see, but the smooth touch and the slightly uncomfortable thickness pressing against her fingers feels familiar.

“Is this it?” asks the thin voice.

“Yes. How did you—”

“This is it, right? Come out, quick. It’s dangerous,” says the thin voice urgently.

With her right hand, she pushes the slowly closing door. She barely manages to squeeze the left side of her body out the door.

“Be careful,” warns the thin voice. “The ground outside isn’t solid.”

Her left foot lands on the ground with a plop. She shoves the car door with her left hand and the car frame with her right, slowly getting out of the car.

With every step, her feet sink into the ground. It’s hard to keep her balance. Just as she’s about to stumble, the frozen fingers grab onto her left hand.

“Be careful. One step at a time, slowly.”

Doing as the voice instructs, she takes one tentative step at a time, moving further and further away from the car.

Suddenly, she stops.

“What’s wrong?” asks the voice.

“Did you … hear something?”

“Hear what?” the voice asks again.

“Someone … I thought there was someone there.”

The thin voice is silent, as if pausing to listen. Then, it says, “You’re mistaken. There’s only the two of us here.”

She listens again.

The sound is vague. Somewhat far away in the distance, or right by her ear, something like a human voice, or the wind …

The sound withers into silence.

“I’m so sure there was someone there—”

“There’s no one here except us,” the voice says adamantly. “If you think you heard something, it might have been wild animals.” The fingers gripping her left hand give a squeeze. “I think … we should run away from here.”

The voice sounds afraid.

Fear seeps from her fingers through her hand, moving up her arm and into her heart.

Wordlessly, she begins to walk.