Stay Away

by Ike Hamill

  “Well, jumped up Mary and Josephine!” Mr. Del Rossi said. “What in the heck do we have here?”

  It had happened. Nicky saw what she had feared. The fire had come from the woods after all. Now, as Mr. Del Rossi slowed to inspect it, it would finally take her.

  Blinking at the fire through the rainy window, she saw that this fire wasn’t in the shape of a man. This was a burning tree. A limb popped and cracked as the fire consumed it.

  “Consumed,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?” Mr. Del Rossi asked.

  When she blinked, the shape of the flames almost looked like a man again. Nicky realized what she was really looking at. This was the Trader’s tree. It was burning like the rest.

  “Must have been kids,” Mr. Del Rossi said.

  Nicky turned to watch the tree slide by as he stepped on the accelerator again.

  “They see a fire and start a fire. I’ve seen it a dozen times. Monkey see, monkey do,” he said.

  The real fire was up the hill. Even with the hoses trained on it, the flames were reaching for the sky. The clouds above were painted with their orange light.

  “Holy Christmas,” Mr. Del Rossi said. He pulled over near the cemetery and got out. Leaning back in, he said, “Don’t worry about the seat. It’s vinyl. Don’t get lost on your way home.”

  He shut his door and left her there in his car.

  # # #

  She sat for a few minutes, warming up in the heat that lingered in the car. Mr. Del Rossi’s emergency light continued to spin, throwing out a red beam. Nicky tilted the rearview mirror so that she could keep an eye on the tree behind her. Knowing that the Trader’s tree was at her back unsettled her, even if it was burning to the ground.

  In front of her, the firefighters were an anthill of activity around the Carroll house. Neighbors stood on porches in bathrobes while the firemen dragged another hose to unload on the flames. Nicky sighed, thinking that she should alert someone that there was nobody to be rescued. It would be horrible if a brave volunteer rushed in, risking their life for one of the corpses inside.

  Nicky dismissed the idea. None of the firemen were rushing in. There was hardly anything to rush into. They must have known that anyone in there would be long dead.

  Her eyes drifted away from the firelight—it was difficult to look at it for long.

  There was another tiny fire across the street from her. This one belonged to the end of a cigarette. It flared for a moment and then returned to waist height. Someone was smoking in the dark.

  Nicky pushed open the door and felt the damp air drive a chill into her again. The desire was stronger than her discomfort. She walked behind the vehicle and crossed the street.

  “Hey! Can I bum one of those?” she asked as she drew closer.

  “Nicky?” a voice asked.

  She kept walking even though she could remember that same voice calling her a sow.

  “What happened to you?” Brett asked from the darkness. Then, the cigarette in Eddie’s hand erupted in sparks as Brett knocked it to the ground. “Put that thing out before someone else spots us.”

  “Relax,” Eddie said.

  Nicky was close enough now to see the shape of them. They were hanging out under the low branches of a black willow, watching the fire.

  Eddie pulled out his pack and shook a cigarette loose in Nicky’s direction. She took it and he put another to his lips.

  “We’ll cup them. Nobody will see,” Eddie said.

  “That’s what you said last time,” Brett said. “If someone spots me here, watching Lily’s house burn down, they’re going to drag me in for suspected arson.”

  When Eddie held out his Zippo, Nicky dragged so hard on the Lucky Strike that the flames ripped right through cigarette. She imagined hot embers burning down into her lungs and planting themselves in her tissue. Coughing, she almost threw the cigarette away.

  “No filters,” Eddie said. “An acquired taste.”

  There was a crack from across the street. They all looked over in time to see the bell tower fall to the side. One of the neighbors let out a bark of surprise.

  “So, where’s everyone else?” Brett asked. “The ambulances haven’t taken anyone away, so I figured that nobody was home.”

  Nicky didn’t look at them. She took another drag, trying to not think about the flames that were probably spreading inside her lungs. She tried to block out the mental image of Eric boiling the water around him as he transformed.

  She heard the slapping footsteps on the wet sidewalk before she saw who was running towards her. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. They were all back together again—the remaining conspirators.

  “Hey,” Ben Trout said, “we heard about the fire. Where’s Jessie? Where’s everyone else?”

  Nicky finished the hot cigarette with one more drag. She threw it down where it hissed in a puddle.

  Her voice came out as a croak, devoid of color.

  “Dead.”

  # # #

  “Jessie is dead?” Charlie Holdt asked.

  “What about Lily?” Brett asked.

  Eddie was already holding out the pack in her direction. Nicky took another one with a nod of thanks. After he lit it, she glanced back to make sure that the Trader’s tree was still on fire and that it was staying put where it was. She could only see the top of it from where they were standing. It burned right up to the tops of the branches. One of the volunteer fireman stood at the corner, looking down at the tree. Maybe he was wondering why just that one tree was burning but none of the others were. Maybe he was remembering a trade he had made down there. Nicky kept an eye on him too. There was no telling what debts he might try to repay, or what that would entail.

  “Nicky?” Brett asked.

  She looked at his dark eyes. They reflected just a hint of the flames from the Carroll house. She wondered if that orange sparkle would be there even after the house was extinguished.

  “He killed them all,” she said with a sigh. “Mr. Carroll, Mrs. Carroll, and then Officer Libby and Wendell. Jessie and Lily went next. Eric…”

  Nicky couldn’t finish the sentence.

  She heard Eddie whisper to Brett. “She’s flipped her lid.”

  “Nicky,” Brett said. He almost sounded caring and sympathetic. To hear him say her name like that—like he really cared for her—made Nicky understand in a flash why Lily had taken him back so many times. When someone so hard to the world was soft to her, it made her want to do whatever he said.

  “Nicky, Reynold and Zinnia are dead and buried. What are you talking about?”

  “They might be dead,” she said. “But I can guarantee that they’re not buried anymore. They came back and Zinnia was pregnant with the baby that the Trader stole from Eric’s mom. The baby was a monster. It killed them all.”

  This time when Eddie whispered, Nicky didn’t hear it. She didn’t need to. He was probably postulating about her degree of insanity and whether it made her dangerous.

  Ben Trout simply stared at her. Charlie Holdt walked away. Halfway across the street, he started to jog. Ben Trout ran after him.

  “Listen, Nicky,” Brett said. “You saw Lily? You saw her get killed?”

  Nicky sighed and told the bare bones of the story—how Reynold had come back followed by Zinnia. She told of how she had run and found Officer Libby. She didn’t lay any blame or explain how close she had come to bailing out. Brett wouldn’t have cared. He wanted to know how his ex-girlfriend had died and Nicky took the shortest path to that ending. Brett took that all in and then leaned heavily against the trunk of the tree. Nicky wondered if that was such a good idea.

  “But what happened to you?” Eddie asked. “Eric smashed it in the kitchen, right? Why do you look like you almost drowned in the river?”

  As soon as he asked the question, he straightened and tensed.

  Eddie slapped Brett’s shoulder and then pointed at Nicky with the end of his cigarette. “She’s like that man from the ba
rn, Brett. She’s like a zombie or something now.”

  “No, she’s not,” Brett said. He sounded tired.

  “But what if she is? She won’t say what happened.”

  “I never said I wouldn’t say,” Nicky said. She opened her mouth to tell them the rest, but she didn’t get the chance.

  Ben Trout and Charlie Holdt came running back across the street.

  # # #

  “She’s right,” Charlie Holdt said, panting.

  “Right about what?” Eddie asked.

  “Someone dug up the Carrolls. There’s nobody in their graves,” Ben Trout said.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Eddie said.

  “Dug up?” Brett asked. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. What’s to be sure about?” Charlie Holdt asked. “We saw it.”

  “No, I mean, did it look like someone dug it up, or that they dug their way out?” Brett asked.

  The boys looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Nicky,” Brett said, “you better tell us the rest of what happened.”

  It was cold, wet, and the cigarettes had pumped her up for a moment, but the effect was beginning to wear off. All she wanted to do was slog home, dry off, and crawl into bed. That would be a mistake though—she promised herself that she was done making mistakes.

  “I’ll tell you while we walk,” she said. “My car is on the other side of the bridge.”

  She felt in her pocket to make sure that she still had her keys.

  “Fine,” Brett said. “But we take the long way. I don’t want to parade past all those cops.”

  Nicky nodded. They were going to have to take the River Walk, but it didn’t matter. One way or another, she was going to have to cross the river. It might as well be with four bodyguards. They flanked her on either side. Nicky told them about the trip back to the barn, but she left out the part of Eric’s arson. If they had asked, she would have revealed it, but she didn’t want to put that knowledge in their heads in case they were questioned later.

  They were done openly doubting her. They took in all the information that she presented as fact and held their questions to the end.

  “You’re convinced that Eric is gone?” Brett asked.

  “The thing that came out of the water didn’t seem like Eric at all,” she said. “It called itself Levi, as far as I could tell. I believe that the Trader’s son got into him. It took him over.”

  “Holy Ghost,” Ben Trout said.

  “Don’t say that,” Brett said. “There’s nothing holy about it.”

  “I should have looked back,” Nicky said. “But I’m almost certain that he’s still out there by that pond.”

  On her right, Charlie Holdt was walking close enough to her that she could feel his shoulder brushing hers. At that spot, the River Walk strayed pretty close to the edge of the water. He was frightened by the water and she didn’t blame him. It was good to have a healthy fear of that water.

  “We’ll go check it out,” Brett said.

  Eddie coughed.

  “In daylight,” Brett added. “There’s the bridge. You’re on the other side?”

  “I hope it’s still there,” Nicky said.

  The fog was gone. As soon as they climbed the hill up to the base of the bridge, she could see across to where her car was still parked. It hadn’t been towed away even though she had left it on the side of the road, partially blocking the lane. The boys still flanked her and they took up the whole sidewalk. When a car went by the other direction, headlights splashing across their faces, they all looked down. Nicky saw the water rolling beneath them and thought about what might still be under that surface.

  “My great uncle said that spirits couldn’t cross running water,” Charlie Holdt said. “If he was still alive I would tell him that he’s full of shit.”

  Nobody said a word until they reached Nicky’s car.

  “We’re probably going tomorrow,” Brett said. “You want to come with us?”

  Nicky shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be around.”

  “Fair enough,” Brett said. He reached out to shake her hand and wished her good luck. As she closed the door and started the engine, she heard Ben and Charlie trying to negotiate an invitation to go along with the older boys.

  Nicky glanced down at her gas gauge. There was a branch of her bank as far south as Connecticut. She had a map in her glove compartment with the town circled. If she could make it that far, in the morning she could withdraw every penny and keep going south.

  “Hey,” she said, rolling down her window. “What’s your address?”

  BRETT

  EDDIE CLICKED OFF THE car radio with a wry laugh.

  “Good fucking luck,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Brett asked. He didn’t really want to hear what Eddie had to say, but if he didn’t ask, Eddie would continue to drop hints that he had a valuable opinion to share until Brett did.

  “They said the police are working to identify the bodies. I bet it takes them a good long time to piece together where some of those corpses came from. Fucking pigs,” Eddie said.

  Brett wasn’t so sure.

  “With the empty graves down the street, they might put it together,” Brett said.

  Eddie pointed through the windshield.

  “Here they come. Think about what I said,” Eddie said.

  Brett had been thinking about it. After they had walked Nicky to her car, Eddie and Brett had watched the other boys walk across the bridge on their way home. Eddie had taken the opportunity to deliver an opinion, “You know, with all them dead people, the only ones who might spill the beans are those two.”

  Brett had known what Eddie meant by that. Eddie liked to talk a big game about keeping people quiet.

  “What do you think they would say?” Brett had asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Eddie had said. “Anything that connects us with a dead cop and three dead Carrolls is bad news, especially when one of those corpses is the girl you used to fight with.”

  Brett had to admit that Eddie had a point. The cops had been all over him after Reynold and Zinnia Carroll had drowned. They had visited him at home and at work, asking him the same questions over and over. Eddie had a point, but he would never have the stomach to actually hurt Ben Trout or Charlie Holdt—Brett was pretty sure of that.

  Ben and Charlie split up and approached the car on either side, opening the doors and flopping into the back seat.

  “Hey,” Ben said.

  Brett turned around in his seat.

  “One thing, before we go,” Brett said. “When was the last time you saw Jessie?”

  Ben Trout—the one that Jessie had called Fish—was the first with an answer.

  “After the barn we caught a ride with them to…” Ben started to say.

  Brett stopped him with a raised hand and turned his attention to Charlie Holdt.

  Charlie caught on immediately.

  “No,” Charlie said. “Last time we saw Jessie was after he stayed over at my house. After that, Jessie went with Eric and Lily somewhere. He didn’t say where.”

  “Much better,” Brett said. “You two need to get straight on a version that begins and ends with that, right? First one who shows any sign of bending is going to get offered a special deal. Then the other one gets fucked. You know what we call that first guy?”

  This time, Ben was the smarter one. “A rat?”

  Brett nodded. “This is not a game. Second guy goes to prison. First guy—the rat—ends up in the ground. But if everyone stays straight, you both go home. Understand?”

  They nodded and Eddie started up the car and began to pull out onto the road.

  The trip was silent until the car slid past the turnoff to the Cornish barn. In the back, Ben said, “Hey, isn’t that the place?”

  “If you remember what Nicky said, there’s a burned up cop car next to that barn,” Eddie said. “Which the cops might have already discovered.”

  “So how are we going
to get to the place?” Ben asked.

  Eddie and Brett both ignored the question. It was answered a moment later anyway when Eddie turned left to start down a long driveway. The “For Sale” sign they passed read, “Under Contract.” The white paint was coming off the house in sheets. The roofline of the attached shed sagged so much that it was humped like a camel’s back. The new owners had a lot of work ahead of them, unless it was going to be a teardown. Eddie pulled to the left of the shed so the car would be hidden from the road.

  “Don’t look at the windows,” Eddie said. “If the ghost of Momma Cornish sees you, she’ll follow you home.”

  Brett got out. The boys got out of the rear. They were both examining their shoelaces

  “He’s just messing with you,” Brett said. “Come on.”

  # # #

  Brett had a folded up piece of map in his back pocket, but he didn’t need it. He had studied it already, and he had a good sense of direction. The key was to follow the little stream that began somewhere behind the house and led down to the pond. There was only one pond on the property, so he was certain that he had figured out where they had buried the remains.

  “These woods are creepy,” Ben said.

  “Nah, that’s just you,” Charlie said.

  Brett found a place to make it down the steep slope without getting his jeans all muddy. Eddie followed. The other two made their own way and skidded down to the creek.

  “Get your shit together,” Eddie said. “Try not to leave a damn highway of clues where we went, okay?”

  Based on Nicky’s story, Brett figured that he and Eddie didn’t have much right to talk. They had tried to be pretty careful when they moved through the woods with the bucket of bones, teeth, and trinkets, but Nicky had managed to follow their path in the middle of the night with a flashlight. Then again, they hadn’t really been wandering aimlessly. They had been following what must have been a deer path down to the pond. Nicky had found the same path.