Unlucky Uncle Ungus's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Ungus never reached the forest that night. The road to Tilly's dwelling ran long and dark, and before he found it, the calendar turned. He woke in a borrowed bed and counted the date twice. Friday the thirteenth. The first one since the shirt went on his back. He looked down at the faded number and felt his stomach drop. His brother had died face down on a kitchen floor. Ungus did not plan to die on any floor today. He decided to hide. If the curse struck hardest on this day, he would give it nothing to strike. He found a cabin far from any town, built of plain logs, with a stone chimney and a narrow porch. No neighbors. No stairs to fall down. No kitchen he had to walk through. He locked the door and sat on the floor. In his fist he gripped a rabbit's foot keychain, soft and pale. Luck against luck. He felt foolish holding it, but he held it tight anyway. The quiet was worse than noise. Every creak of the logs made him flinch. By noon his nerve was gone. He pulled out his phone and called the one man who worked when the world slept. Marty drove nights in his cab and feared nothing. Ungus had ridden with him a dozen times. Marty's cab rolled up an hour later. He climbed the porch, hands in his jacket pockets, and looked at Ungus crouched by the door. "You called me out here to watch you sit?" he said. He did not smile, but he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "Fine. I've babysat worse fares than you." Ungus told him everything. The shirt. The brother. The curse. Marty listened without blinking. "So you're hiding from a day," he said. "A day comes whether you hide or not." He pulled a chair to the window and sat facing the road, like a man standing guard. They waited through the afternoon. Nothing came. No fall, no fire, no cold hand. Ungus began to believe he had beaten it. Then, near dusk, he loosened his grip on the keychain to stretch his fingers. The rabbit's foot slipped and rolled under the chair. He bent to grab it and cracked his head hard on the table's edge. Blood ran down his face. Marty was up in a second. He pressed his sleeve to the cut and held Ungus upright. "Easy. You're fine. It's just a knock." His voice stayed flat and sure. He wrapped the wound and sat Ungus against the wall. Ungus pressed the cloth to his head and understood. Hiding did not work. The charm did not work. The curse found him in a locked cabin with no stairs and no kitchen. It would find him anywhere. He threw the rabbit's foot across the room. "No more running," he said. "I go to Tilly. Tonight." Marty pulled his keys. "Then get in the cab."