Bone White Page 15

  As soon as I felt I was out of sight, I veered left and ran parallel with the driveway for another twenty yards or so. At least I ran when I wasn’t ducking and weaving. I’d definitely gotten my wish. The woods were as thick as black-clad teenagers at a Marilyn Manson concert. The trees themselves were like zombies, constantly reaching out for me, snagging me, carving up my bare arms. I passed a large clump of thorny brush that was overtaking a fallen tree and cut back to the right, toward the lake again. I figured a zigzag route would be better than a straight shot. I’d heard that somewhere, but couldn’t remember where.

  The footing on the water-logged soil wasn’t great, but the layer of pine needles and fallen leaves provided decent traction over the mud, allowing me to navigate the maze of trees and brush with only minor slipping and sliding. Still, the slick soles of my tennis shoes weren’t the best option for running through the sloppy landscape. Had I known what I’d be doing, I would have worn my trail shoes, which were made for terrain like this. But, then, let’s be honest, had I known what I would be doing, I wouldn’t have come on the trip in the first place. I would have spent my Friday night either playing video games with Cricket, or hanging with Claire while she babysat the Kitner twins.

  As I slid on my ass over a slimy, moss-covered log, the thought of my friends took me back to a world that seemed so very far away. It was my world, and I hoped like hell I’d get back to it. I didn’t want to live in this world any longer, didn’t like it. Though, even if I did make it back, I knew I would be taking at least some of this world back with me. Whether I wanted to or not.

  With a sky full of rainclouds and treetops to block out any chance of a stray moon ray, the nighttime inside the woods was nearly pitch black, which was both a good and a bad thing. The fact that I couldn’t see him, and didn’t know where he was, added a little more tension to the situation. But hopefully that meant the bastard couldn’t see me, either. And if he couldn’t, maybe he’d give up eventually, if he hadn’t already. Hopefully, I would soon be left alone within the trees. But, I realized that was a hell of a lot of hoping on my part. Even so, I was at least feeling like I’d made the right decision by running into the woods. Finally, things were starting to go my way.

  Chapter 42

  Her father wouldn’t be back for awhile. Not without the boy, at least. He was persistent that way. Her mind flashed back to the night her father brought home the second girl. The first one that was still alive. The blonde. It had taken her the entire following day to clean up all the blood. And not all of it was the girl’s. Some of it had been her father’s. The girl had foolishly fought hard to live, but Father had fought even harder for her not to. He never gave up, and she had been so proud of him.

  But, that’s how it had to be now. They had to live, and some things had gotten more difficult and more dangerous because of it. When the harvesting of old cemetery bones came to an end and the harvesting of new bones began, Father really stepped up trying to hide the fact that they were living in the church. Not that he’d run out of old bones. Plenty still rested in the gravesites in that old cemetery. But the old bones didn’t get as pretty and white as the new ones. That’s what Father said. And she had agreed. New bones were much prettier. They also brought more money, so that settled it, and it suited her just fine. She didn’t like him bringing caskets into the church. Something about their oldness creeped her out.

  She paced the well-worn floor of the church’s entryway, wondering many things. She wondered if she should turn off the lights. If it even mattered anymore. More importantly, she wondered how much longer it was going to take. It was late, and she was tired. She wanted to go to sleep. But there was no way she could, not with all this energy running through her. They’d had a lot of excitement for one day, and now she was both exhausted and exhilarated.

  She was also angry. Blisteringly mad. The boy had tried to take Becca away, forcing Father to kill her in order to stop them. And she’d liked this one. Becca. She knew what her father had said about the names. Not knowing made it easier. But, this girl had looked very much like her mother, from what she remembered at least. Having Becca to play with and talk to made it seem like her mother was still around. So she’d had to ask the girl’s name, and didn’t regret it.

  But now, Becca was dead. Like her mother, if she was truly honest with herself. And it was all that boy’s fault. She didn’t know his name and was glad for it. Father was right. It did make it easier. She hated the boy for causing this. For having the nerve to come here and cause these problems. Hated him just as much for hurting her father. But, he would pay. Father would catch him and he would pay. Of that, she was certain. In her imagination, she played out how it would go down, and the thoughts brought on a smile. Her father was really good at making people dead.

  Chapter 43

  Raindrops trickled through the treetops, dripping onto my head as I stood in the mud peering through a rusted chain link fence. Rising eight feet into the air, it cut through the trees, separating me from where I needed to go. I’d nearly run right into it in the darkness. I imagined the metal cutting me into tiny slivers like a French fry press. I wasn’t sure if the fence was there to keep people out, or to keep people in. Given everything I’d seen, the reason for the fence could have really gone either way. At this point, it didn’t matter. All I knew was that it was not about to keep me in. This wasn’t the first time Garrett and I had been caught somewhere we weren’t supposed to be. And being chased off someone’s property, more often than not, meant scaling a fence or two.

  As my old friend entered my mind again, I realized that thoughts of his safety could only be fleeting at this point. I hoped he was somewhere safe, but that’s all I could afford him. I was in deep trouble myself, and was finding less and less time in my busy schedule to worry about him. Whatever was to be, would be. Though the thought had crossed my mind that my keeping that psycho occupied could only benefit Garrett. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping my friend would be at the boat waiting for me when I got there, but I wasn’t counting on it. If the last couple hours taught me anything, it was that I was alone. No one but me was going to save me.

  I reached up, slid my fingers through the metal wires, and after sliding the toes of my tennis shoes into the gaps, hoisted myself off the ground. The toe of my shoe was too wide to go in very far, but it was enough to get some leverage, albeit precariously. I repeated the process, carefully coordinating my hands and feet, until I was almost at the top of the fence. It didn’t seem to take nearly as long to scale the fence as it normally would. But, then, I had an incentive this time that I’d never had before. The threat had never been so severe, the consequences so final.

  I swung my right leg over the top of the fence, and after a few blind attempts, finally found a place for my foot. It was only when I was swinging my other leg over that I was able to glance back in the direction I’d just come. About twenty yards behind me, a flash of white cut through a shadowy space between the trees. It was immediately followed by the loud snapping of a twig, loud enough even to be heard over the gentle rain falling on leaves. I wasn’t sure if it was the man or not. Could have been a deer. I wasn’t even sure it was heading in my direction. But, seeing it at that moment was enough to rattle my concentration.

  My foot slipped out from under me, bringing the ground up fast. In the fraction of a second I had, I instinctively shot out my hands, grasping at the fence as I careened toward the forest floor. Failing to latch onto anything but air, they skidded down the crisscrossing links, the rusted metal scratching and slicing the skin of my fingers all the way down.

  I landed on both feet, but not softly or gracefully. My left ankle buckled under my weight, and a loud pop rang out just as a red-hot pain seared up my leg. I knew the sound I’d heard wasn’t the snapping of a stick, but bone. My left leg was bent at an awkward angle just above my ankle. It was broken. There was no doubt. I’d never broken a bone before, and I couldn’t have imagined the pain. As it was, it t
ook all I had to keep from wailing like a baby. But as I lay there, broken on a muddy carpet of pine needles and leaves, I gave in and the tears flowed freely. At that point, there was simply no stopping them.

  Chapter 44

  She was worried. A feeling she rarely experienced living in her secluded little world. Although she had grown accustomed to it over the past year or so, she knew how secluded it was. And how little. She hadn’t forgotten about going to school, the grocery store and a number of other places with her mother. Been a part of the outside world. But, all that was behind her now. Father insisted on doing all of the errand running alone. Getting the groceries and the supplies he needed. Picking up the girls. It was safer for the both of them that way, he said, and she tried to understand. Couldn’t argue. He protected and provided for her, and like he always told her, that’s all she could ask for. It was his work, and he did it for them. Someday they would have lots of money to travel, to visit far off places. That’s what he promised. To live the life of a king and queen. Someday, he told her. Someday.

  Now, though, it had been over an hour, and he still wasn’t back. She wondered if she should go out and help find the boy. Father had told her to stay behind, though, to ready things for the harvest. But everything Father needed for the harvest – the plastic, the buckets, even the lawnmower blade she’d found tucked in the shadows of the basement – were laid out and waiting. All she could do now was wait. And for her, the waiting was always the hardest part.

  She wrung her hands as she paced the floor. Wrung them until they were sore. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what else to do with them. It made her antsy, the waiting. She hated it. Despised just sitting here while her father was out searching. Especially since she’d become the woman of the house. She should help out more. She needed to be more involved. Wanted to do more than just get things ready and clean up after. Had felt that way for awhile now. After all, she was sixteen, if her math was right. But, Father always told her “someday.” Always someday. But, she was ready now. Ready to help. Ready to do his work.

  When she could stand it no more, she slipped into the faded jeans and maroon sweatshirt Becca had been wearing when she’d arrived and took the stairs from the loft down to the sanctuary. Even though her own stink had recently crept into the material and replaced the floral scent of her friend’s perfume, she still liked wearing Becca’s hand-me-downs. Still liked being close.

  In the mudroom, she slipped on a pair of boots that were three sizes too big and her father’s slicker that hung on a hook beside the boarded up back door. The wooden boards that stretched across the door caught her attention. She wasn’t surprised to see them. On the contrary, they seemed fitting enough for her to wonder why the door hadn’t been boarded up before now. They also reminded her how her father had told her to stay behind and remain in the church. Like always.

  But this wouldn’t be the first time she’d explored the surrounding woods while he had been away. Only the first time he would be aware of it. There had been more than a few times when he’d made a run into town, leaving her behind, and she had snuck out the back door for an adventure of her own, comfortable in the fact that he would be gone for hours. In fact, she might even know the surrounding area better than he did. Besides, all would be forgiven if she were to find the boy and bring him back. Then Father would know she was ready and things would be different. Perhaps she would even be rewarded. Maybe she would be allowed to do the harvesting this time. Make the boy dead. The thought brought a smile to her lips, a flicker of excitement in her belly, a warmth between her legs.

  Atop the narrow ledge above the church’s front doors, she knew her father kept a small hatchet hidden “just in case.” She reached up and ran her fingers along the length of dusty wood until they finally brushed against cold, sharpened steel. Pulling the small ax down by the handle, she assessed the heft of it and allowed herself a full smile. Then, making sure they weren’t going to lock behind her, she closed the front doors on her way out.

  Chapter 45

  My left foot dragged the mud behind me like a rock tied to a rope. Like dead weight. The pain was excruciating, and it had taken all I had to get off the ground and keep moving. I tried to hop on my good foot, but couldn’t keep it up, not to mention I wasn’t getting very far. So even though putting weight on it hurt like hell and brought the salty tears all over again, I did it as best I could and eventually, grew numb to the pain. Now, as I walked in the direction I hoped would ultimately lead me to the lake, I carved a shallow, but noticeable trench in the rain soaked leaves and mud. A blind man with a scarf over his eyes could have followed the trail I was leaving, even under the cover of a blackened night.

  Above the tops of pines, oak and ash, lightning fractured the sky, followed swiftly by a low rumble of thunder. With the exception of a mild, yet steady rainfall, the skies had been fairly calm since I’d escaped the church and the rumbling sky was the first significant sound I’d heard from the outside world since leaving there. I wasn’t sure if this sudden outburst was the start of something new, or just an isolated storm cell passing nearby. My hopes revolved around the latter. As good a shelter as the canopy of trees had been earlier, there had simply been too much rain since then.

  The drizzle was finding its way through the treetops, tagging me in the process. A violent shiver took hold of me, starting in my shoulders. My jacket was back at the church, still wrapped around Becca’s dead body. My thin, now sleeveless t-shirt was soaked through, and the dark grey cloth clung to me like shrink-wrap. My sopping hair was plastered to my head, and I had to blink back the streams of water running down my face. Rain? Tears? At this point, it could have been either, and I didn’t really give a damn which.

  I just wanted it to be over. The fear. The torment. I wanted to give up. Throw in the proverbial towel. Drop down onto the soft forest floor and wait for whatever was to happen. Wanted to, but I didn’t. I trudged onward, pushing down the forces inside me that threatened to grind what little sanity I had left into dust and cast it into the wind. How long had I even been wandering these woods? An hour? Two? It probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but it was still a long fucking time.

  I used my bare arms like machetes, hacking my way through the dense brush. The talon-like branches sliced my skin with ease. The occasional rogue limb found my face, slashing it. I was sure a couple of them had drawn blood. I could taste it as it mixed with the rain and ran down into my mouth. Each scrape momentarily took my mind off my shattered ankle. But only momentarily.

  Lightning and thunder remained at bay, but the rain had picked up again, pounding everything around me. Its roar came from all directions, disorienting me like a child lost in a crowd. I didn’t know if I was going in the right direction. I didn’t even know what the right direction was. Should I make my way toward the road? Or should I try and find a house somewhere in this God-forsaken stretch of woods? And if a house, then a phone. Ultimately, my gut told me just to get to the lake, maybe just because it was more familiar. Once there, I would have more options and could figure out a more complete plan.

  The latest deluge of rain wasn’t entirely a bad thing, however. Occasionally, I would stop walking and tilt my weary head back, open my mouth and let the rain running off the overhead leaves moisten my parched throat. I found it ironic how I could be soaked through to the bone, yet my throat remained dry. I stopped now and then to drink. And when I stopped, I also listened for the man behind me. Listened for a car on an unnoticed, nearby road. Listened for any sign of life among the trees besides just mine and his. But I heard nothing except rain. Generally, not hearing him behind me would be a good thing, though it could be that I wasn’t hearing him simply because of the rain. And that could be bad.

  Very bad.

  Mud caked onto the bottoms of my tennis shoes to the point where every step I took, I slid an extra inch or two. Despite the pine needles and leaves, the forest floor was quickly turning into a real mess, and slowing my progress. I use
d trees for balance whenever I could. At one point, as I tried to gracefully sidestep a giant-sized snake hole, I slipped on the landing and fell, banging my shoulder hard against a tree. I winced from the sudden jolt of pain, but stifled the cry that rose in my throat, not wanting to give away my location. It would have been a cry of frustration as much as pain, and I bore the anger inside just in case I needed to use it later.

  As quickly as I could, I scrambled up onto my good foot, pulling on branches and ivy with bloodied hands. I couldn’t afford to stop or even slow down. My ankle ached with a pain like I’d never imagined, and with each step it grew worse than before. It would eventually go numb from time to time, and when it did, I couldn’t ask for anything more.

  A lack of pain due to shock was something I shared with Becca. She’d not felt me cutting her skin as I’d sawed the rope that bound her wrists. And if there was one thing that I was thankful for, it was that there would be no more pain for her. No more fear. I didn’t save her, but I’d inadvertently helped end her ordeal.

  As the torrent of water continued to fall, I struggled to see anything through the curtain of darkness and towering trees. Still, as if we were somehow connected by this struggle for life and death, I felt the man behind me. I knew he was still there, creeping through the same woods. A hunter stalking his prey. So far, I’d done a good job of ignoring everything I’d ever feared about being in the woods at night. In fact, I hadn’t even thought about it. Apparently, imaginary monsters don’t mean squat once you’ve gone up against a real one.