Bone White Page 16

  Chapter 46

  She had just started down the driveway, slipping in the mud, when her eye caught the tiny wooden shed behind the church. With the weak floodlight mounted on its side, it looked lonely sitting under the falling rain. Lonely like her. Only the shed still had a friend, and she no longer did.

  She found herself torn, knowing full well she shouldn’t waste any more time. The boy from the coffin already had a considerable head start, and if her father hadn’t caught up to him yet, her chances of catching him were dwindling with every minute she let tick by. If she was going to prove herself to Father, she would have to hurry. But, she also wanted to know. Had to know. Who was the other boy? What had her father done to him? He hadn’t had time to harvest the boy, if that was even his plan. And she was pretty sure that it was. What else could be done at this point? Too much had been found out. Too few options remained. Regardless, the boy in the shed was a mystery to her. A mystery begging to be solved. A mystery she was quickly finding herself unable to let go of.

  Chapter 47

  Only a couple of more hours of darkness remained, of that I was certain. Soon, the sun would be coming up and this night would be behind me. According to the clock, at least. The dark woods, with shadows deeper than the night itself, would lighten and the shadows themselves would be forced to retreat for another day. Navigating my way toward the lake would be so much easier in the daylight.

  But then, I thought, so would tracking me.

  The rain was letting up just as exhaustion was setting in. My body was begging me to lie down, to close my eyes for at least a few minutes. But, would it be for only a few minutes? The weariness in my bones and muscles said there was no way I could rest my eyes without completely dozing off. When I finally got the chance to sleep, it would be for a very long time. Days maybe, and now wasn’t the best time for that.

  But the sun would help. It would keep me awake. I knew that as my plan changed in the half hour since banging my shoulder into the tree. As much as I needed to stay ahead of the game, I was also on the lookout for someplace to hide. Someplace to lay low until the sun lit the sky. The fact was, I should have reached the lake long ago. In addition to being tired, or maybe because of it, I feared I was going around in circles. At any moment, I might stumble upon that chain link fence again. And if that happened...

  Yes, daylight would help me stay on course.

  Besides, I was just so weak, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I lacked the energy needed to ignore the pain in my ankle and press on. I hadn’t eaten anything since the gas station hot dogs Garrett and I bought on the way to the lake the day before. We’d left the rest of the food back on the boat. Not that I really felt like eating. Hunger and food were tied in the competition for the farthest things from my mind, though it would have been nice to have the fuel. When faced with possible extinction, the will to survive is a powerful force and can push you farther than you would normally have the endurance for. But, without food and rest, your body will inevitably break down and give out at some point. Those action movies where the characters go for days without sleep? Yeah, that’s all bullshit, and I was learning it firsthand.

  I was just about to collapse, to let the last remaining drop of energy in my body spend itself and cash out, when I saw the crevice in the ground. I almost stumbled into it, actually. It was just a V-shaped depression in the ground, as if the hull of a boat had sat there for ages. The narrow trench followed the slope downhill, growing wider as it went. The sound of running water gurgled from its bottom several feet below. My brain started processing. Like the narrow rivers I’d seen flowing across the churchyard, all this rain had to be going somewhere. And that somewhere was exactly where I wanted to go. My bet was that, if I followed the running water, it would eventually lead me to the lake. I didn’t know where on the lake, but it had to be somewhere not too far from the sandy stretch where the boat waited.

  Once I hit the shoreline, going left would get me to the boat. With the motor’s busted prop, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get back to the truck once I’d found the boat. But the truck wasn’t necessarily the only option. Just being out on the lake would put me one step closer to safety, creating some much needed distance between me and the man. And who knows? Maybe there would be houses farther down the shore and people who could help.

  Finally, I had a plan that was giving me an ounce of confidence. It gave me a direction to follow. The exhaustion I was carrying in my shoulders and neck eased slightly, and I breathed a little easier. Things were looking up. But, first, as much as I hated to take the time, I needed to rest my leg.

  Chapter 48

  Disappointment fell heavily on her shoulders when she saw the grey door’s latch. It bore a large black lock with the word “Master” stenciled in white. It hadn’t been there before. She hadn’t known her father to ever lock the shed. But, it wasn’t altogether surprising. As much as he had allowed her to see of his operation, there were probably still a lot of aspects of her father’s work that she didn’t know about. Yet, she reminded herself. She didn’t know about them yet. But, she would. Very soon.

  She took the cold and wet steel box in her hand and gave it a tug. She didn’t know why. Just the off chance that it might be unlocked. But it wasn’t. The lock was fully engaged, just as she knew it would be. It didn’t budge, and she let the lock drop back against the wooden door. The slight thud was barely audible over the nearby rustling leaves.

  With the hatchet ready at her side, and the rain still falling steadily down upon her, she leaned in and tried to look through the thin gap between the two doors. The doors were old and hanging crookedly, creating a gap between them just wide enough to be able to see between. But, the inside of the shed was too dark. Too black. She couldn’t see a thing, and her shoulders sagged even further.

  “Hello,” she said, then waited for a response. When none came, she tried a second time, only louder, making sure she was heard over the constant noise surrounding her. “Hey, you. Boy.” Still nothing, and her forehead began to wrinkle in on itself. She knew he was still in there. Her father hadn’t had time to remove him, and the doors wouldn’t be padlocked if he had. There would be nothing to hide, and no reason to keep anyone out. Or keep anyone in.

  In a last ditch effort to communicate with the boy in the red jacket, she pounded on the wooden door with the butt end of the hatchet blade. Waited, then pounded again even harder, allowing a little of her frustration out. The doors clattered back and forth against each other, at least as much as the lock would allow. But, still no response came from inside the shed. Her head cast downward, she turned away from the shed and started slopping her way once again toward the driveway. The hatchet, like a relay baton gripped firmly in her hand, swung impatiently at her side, eager to do some work of its own.

  Chapter 49

  A bolo knife sliced through my leg, waking me with a jolt. The blade ripped through the skin just above the ankle, and didn’t stop there. It severed the muscle. It sliced through the bone. Sprays of thick, black blood erupted from the remaining stump like lava spewing from an awakened volcano, filling the air with a mist, saturating the ground around me. I shot up, instinctively grabbing for the lower part of my leg, frantically searching for what I feared would be gone.

  My leg was still there, fully intact, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Once I had a chance to rub my eyes and clear the cobwebs out of my head, I realized it had only been a dream. My elevated heart rate started to back off. My eyes drifted closed again, and I allowed myself to breathe easy.

  But, I wasn’t celebrating just yet. My leg may have been safe, but I wasn’t happy with myself for falling asleep. That sure as shit wasn’t the plan, and it would have been a foolish one if it had been. As it was, I was lucky as hell the man hadn’t stumbled upon me while I was out. Had I been snoring, sending out alerts like some kind of homing device? Hell if I knew. There wasn’t even a way to know how long I’d been out. I wouldn’t swear by it, but the
woods seemed just a little lighter than what I remembered. Not much, but a little.

  With my eyes closed once again, I racked my memory and tried to think back to the last thing I remembered doing before crawling into the trench. I needed to get a sense of how long I’d been out. I remembered trying to make a phone call. My phone had signal. Only two bars, but that was two more than I’d had all night. I’d hit the retry button to call my mom. My spirits had soared at the ear candy of the phone ringing on the other end. The sweetest sound I’d heard in a long time.

  But my joy didn’t last. After two rings, the phone went silent. I’d waited a few seconds, and when nothing happened, I’d pulled the phone away from my ear and checked the screen. The words call connected spread across the bottom like a destination on a treasure map, only the treasure wasn’t there. After saying my mom’s name a couple times without response, I’d snapped the phone shut in frustration and tried again. Only this time, there was no ringing at all and the words call failed flashed in red on the screen. I’d tried a couple of times more, but got the same result each time. Even holding the phone high up in the air hadn’t done any good.

  After convincing myself that throwing the damn phone deep into the woods wasn’t a good idea, I’d regrouped and checked out my surroundings to see where I stood. In the crevice with me were several discarded items like someone had used the trench as their own private garbage dump. A cinder block, two sections of chain link fence that looked very familiar, several masses of tangled fishing line, some empty beer cans, an old camouflaged baseball cap and a worn out car tire. Unless I was cornered and wanted to throw beer cans at the guy, there was nothing of real use. Although the tire proved to be a much softer footrest for my ankle than the cinder block. For that I was appreciative.

  Cold, soaked to the bone, and now covered in mud from climbing down into the trench, I grabbed onto a thick tree root that protruded from the crevice wall just above my head. Using it for leverage, I hoisted myself up just enough to see out over the edge. My first instinct had been correct. It was lighter out than when I’d first crawled in. Not yet dawn, but that half hour or so just before. If they had a name for this time of day, I didn’t know what it was. But, I was thankful for it. I could see farther down the crevice and had a better idea of where it led. I could make out profiles of trees from a distance that had been only black voids before. Morning was on its way, and with it came a resounding hope. Trudging through the woods in the pitch black was highly overrated and absolutely not recommended. I hoped to never have to do it again. For any reason.

  It was the subdued sound of trickling water that reminded me of the task ahead of me. The narrow stream of water at my feet continued along the muddy bottom of the trench. The diminished volume of the stream, along with the sound of only an occasional drip on the leaves overhead, told me the rain had all but stopped. Even though it was shallower and flowed slower than it had before, the stream was still leading the way.

  Likewise, I was relieved to find that the sharp pain in my ankle was all but gone, too, having been replaced by only a throbbing ache. It was still painful, but at least manageable. At this point, it looked worse than it felt. Shades of blue and purple painted the lower half of my leg like oil on canvas, and for some reason, the sight of it filled me with sadness. Swollen and cocked at just enough of an angle to look anything but normal, I could tell it was messed up. Badly. And if not treated properly, it may never be the same. But, then, what part of me ever would?

  And I was lucky.

  The image the long bone sticking from Becca’s eye socket snuck up on me like a rapist and I wondered how long it would take to erase the vision from my mind. With a deep inhale and equally substantive exhale, I prepared to move out. I’d been incredibly lucky getting through the night undetected. But, I also knew it would only be a matter of time before the psycho found me and it would mean a death sentence if he did. Regardless of what I had hoped, I knew he wouldn’t just give up. He couldn’t afford to. The desperate look in his eyes back in the basement told me that. And down here in the crevice, there was nowhere to run and nothing more than the empty beer cans to protect me.

  After relieving myself into the already trickling rainwater, I pulled my phone out to check for service once more and wasn’t surprised by what I found. What I wouldn’t give to hear my mother’s voice right now. Or my father’s. I would generally do whatever it took to escape their inquisition, but right now, I’d take it. I’d enjoy it, in fact. I’d listen to every word with rapt attention and agree with anything they said, just to hear them again.

  Using the muddy walls of the trench for support, I started making my way down the hill, following the water that flowed along the bottom. It was slow going, but the walls provided a great support system, and I was able to cover more ground than I would have if I were topside. The quicksand-like mud occasionally sucked down my feet, like it didn’t want me to leave, but I didn’t let it stop me.

  I slopped through mud and sludge, making my way toward a lake that had eluded me in the night. As I did, two significant things began to happen. First, the trench grew more and more shallow, concealing me less and less the farther I moved along. As my eye level rose higher and higher above the top of the trench, I started feeling more and more vulnerable. But, that vulnerability was tempered by the fact that I didn’t have much farther to go. It was like a deadly race, with nothing short of my very life on the line, trying to make it to the finish line before being cut down by a sadistic killer.

  The second thing I noticed was that it was definitely getting brighter. The occasional glimpses through the treetops revealed a sky that was no longer black, but more of a dark, charcoal grey. Ashen clouds churned busily as they rolled overhead. Dawn was indeed coming, but it wasn’t going to be a bright, sunshiny morning, that was for sure. Too bad, too, because I could have used a little sunshine.

  Chapter 50

  Sand spread out before me like a welcome mat. A dirty, brown pock-marked welcome mat. Lying just beyond it, the steel blue water of the lake. My chest swelled as I took in a relieved breath of air. I couldn’t help but smile, and I almost started crying all over again. As excited as I got whenever Garrett and I explored a new lake or river, I’d never been so happy to see a body of water. If my ankle hadn’t been so messed up, I would have broken into a run at the very sight of the water, diving right in to wash away all the built up grime and fear. Cleanse my mind and body of everything I’d seen back at the church.

  Instead, I cautiously limped out of the woods and onto the beach, taking a quick look around as I did. The good thing about the beach was that it was empty. No psychos. The bad thing about the beach was that it was empty. No sign of anyone to help. Really, no sign of life period. Not even a squirrel or bird. It was as if someone had hit the “delete” button on any and all life in the area.

  The overnight rain and what had probably been years of neglect had firmly packed the coarse, wet sand. It was obvious no one used the beach any longer. Small groups of teens looking for a few unsupervised hours in the sun might come by and hang out now and then. An occasional fisherman might cut across on the way to his favorite spot, but that was probably it. Kids no longer built sand castles, or buried their brothers or sisters. No mothers were lying on colorful beach towels reading light summer novels as their means to get away. And no young men were spending their afternoons trying to conceal their budding erections as they applied suntan lotion to their bikini-clad girlfriends.

  Without a doubt, the beach had seen better days.

  Now, stray tufts of weeds and grass poked through the sand like acne. An old yellow nylon rope, probably used to section off the shallow area, lay half buried in a line snaking from one end of the beach to the other, the attached red buoys faded from years of summer sun. A blue plastic container lay discarded and empty, the bait that had come in it having long ago become fish food. All combined, they were sad blemishes on what was once probably a great family summer spot.

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nbsp; And then there was the snack shop. My heart skipped a beat when I first turned and saw it perched atop the small hill between sparse stands of pine. Its appearance resembled much of the beach it overlooked. Like it had been abandoned for years. The outside of the building hadn’t fared much better than the church I had escaped from, and that sent a cool shiver through my blood. Pink paint was peeling off the concrete blocks in strips, waving gently in the breeze. Several of the windows had been broken out, and the end of the gutter on the side facing the lake drooped almost to the ground on one end, its supports having rusted through with age. Sun-bleached cardboard advertisements for soft pretzels and Slush Puppies hung cockeyed on the windows that hadn’t yet seen a rock from a vandal’s hand. An equally washed out red, white and blue Pepsi sign swayed gently in the breeze. The words “Tall Pines Ice Cream and Snacks” were painted in blue at the bottom and like the building itself, the sign’s white paint was also chipped and peeling, revealing a pale grey underneath.

  With my ankle bitching about the difficult walk down the trench, I turned my attention back to the water and tried to decide my next move. I couldn’t see much of the lake itself, so I hobbled and winced my way down to the water’s edge. There, gentle waves lapped up onto the sand like they were trying to eat as much as they could before retreating.

  I looked to the left, toward the sandy patch where we had stashed Garrett’s boat. In the weak light of the dawn, I saw a tiny patch of sand several hundred yards down the shoreline through trees that jutted out over the water separating the two beaches. Just the sand, not the boat, but I was sure it was the same stretch. My heart leapt into my throat and I cautioned against my excitement getting the best of me. Garrett must have made it back to the boat and was well on his way to get help.