Don't Come Home

by Bea Bledsoe

  “Go and walk into the river.”

  Tears ran down Leigh’s face as she watched saw them turn and march toward the river, never even looking up as they approached the bank; they moved like mindless robots towards the icy water. She watched as her parents stepped slowly into the freezing water, ice buckling under their feet as they sank downwards. Her father whimpered as he went under, his hands clenching desperately, as if he was trying to make them do something. It was terrible. Slowly, she watched the water rise up to his eyes and she watched him struggle to breathe, his body fighting his mind. Finally, after he rocked violently back and forth, they blinked one last time and then stayed open, lifeless. Leigh wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. Just like her father, she had no control.

  Then Winnie’s view turned to her mother, and Leigh whimpered helplessly as the memory played in her mind: her mother walking in and then struggling backwards out of the river, fighting all the way back to the bank before Winnie focused in on her.

  “You bitch!” She managed to scream at Winnie, who flinched. Then she was angry, and so she made her crawl. Leigh watched her mother crawl forward on all fours into the water, until the river swept over her body, her head slowly submerging first until all of her simply disappeared, her grey dress floating around her body when it popped up a few minutes later, rolling in the current. When her face rolled up, there was ice on her lashes and frozen blood on her nose.

  The rest of the town went in. No one tried to swim, no one tried to fight. With shivering bodies, Leigh watched as the entire town of Blackriver slowly drowned themselves. The river slowly became clogged with bodies; a mass grave of floating hair and bright clothing. And there was Winnie, standing at the edge of the bank with a smile on her face, taking deep breaths as the voices quieted one by one. She was finally free of the noise, truly alive in her monstrous silence.

  Through Winnie’s eyes, she watched as a few days later the Pathfinder Collective arrived with their trucks. Watched as they hauled the bodies out of the water and knocked down the town. Watched as they planted new trees and hid the road. She felt Winnie hiding from them in the trees, desperate not to be found. And then she saw herself, driving up and climbing out of the car, screaming and falling to her knees when she found her town missing. And then, Henry…She could feel the way Winnie had wanted Henry; a desire racing through her, a jealousy when he touched Leigh, when he longed for her.

  And then it was over. Like stepping out from under a waterfall, the memories suddenly ceased and Leigh was herself again, blinded with rage.

  “You’re a psychopath!” She screamed. “You monster!”

  “Am I?” Winnie tilted her head. “I’m honestly asking. I only treated them as I had been: something to be used and cast away when people were finished with me.” She shrugged. “And I was done with Blackriver. Correction: I was done with the people of Blackriver. Besides no one cares that this town is gone. No one has come looking for it. There are no news vans here. This little town, it doesn’t matter to anyone, because that’s how you people are. Watch how you run.”

  She raised her hand and Henry began pushing the knife into the side of his neck. Leigh watched as a rivulet of blood made its way down his neck.

  “It’s time to say goodnight. Get up, Leigh – we’re going back to the river. Either that or I’m going to make Henry take off his own head.”

  Leigh could feel herself surrendering to Winnie’s control. It was too hard; it was like trying to hold back the sea. It was easier to just let go. She could feel the pull; surrendering felt easy, peaceful. She let out a long breath to let Winnie in when she felt her own mind slam back in furious anger. More and more, the anger at what she had seen blazed out toward Winnie’s creeping fingers, pushing them further and further back away from Leigh’s conscious. Her fury roared in her mind, and when it finally pulled back, the anger revealed something even stronger there: her strongest memories, like a cornerstone of who she was.

  Memories as strong and unshakeable as Leigh herself, the memories that she had buried deep within herself when she had left for school. She remembered her mother, swaying back and forth with a feverish Leigh who was only four years old, her hot forehead resting against her mother’s shoulder. Leigh, learning to make biscuits with her mother, flour drifting through the air like snow. Her ninth birthday, when she had walked outside and found Napoleon waiting, her father trying his best to hide the tears in his eyes at his daughters joy. The memory of the fight they had when they had found out she was leaving for college: slammed doors, screamed insults, and the hurt on her parents faces. Words that wounded being flung carelessly.

  And finally, a quiet memory, the strongest one she had: her parents sitting together on the porch, silently watching the sunset. Her father had been lazily tracing a finger through her mother’s stubborn curls when it got tangled. He mumbled awkwardly and tried to untangle it without her noticing. With a smile, her mother had rolled her eyes and playfully batted his hand away. Leigh had been standing behind them, watching them together and simultaneously dreaming of a time when she could escape. She loved them. And even then, she knew she would leave them.

  These memories, these precious treasures were walled off from Winnie by something stronger than her will, stronger than diversions or mazes or Evelyn. Love had protected those memories. Her heart wouldn’t let Winnie eviscerate them, and so it had clung to them. Protected them out of self-preservation, because memories were the only things she had left. Her grief was stronger than Winnie’s anger. And Leigh knew as long as she hid behind them, focused on these spots of sunlight, that she had a few remaining seconds before she wasn’t herself ever again. And that was all she needed.

  Leigh lunged for the rifle on the ground in front of her. Dirt flew as she wrapped her hands around the cold metal of the gun, it’s feeling as familiar as home. She knew rifles, had held one from the time she was six years old. Leigh spun on her knees to face Winnie and rested the butt of the gun against her shoulder. With a short breath, she raised it up, her hands and eye steady. Winnie let out a surprised scream and began sprinting towards her, but it didn’t matter. Leigh felt Winnie breaking down the wall in her mind like a wrecking ball, cracking away at her resolve with an animalistic desperation, but it didn’t matter. Leigh took a breath. Her daddy had taught her how to hunt a living thing.

  And Blackriver girls didn’t miss.

  She felt Winnie coming through her mind, bursting apart the memories of her parents. She felt her limbs freezing and heard a scream that wasn’t her own. The last thought that was her own wasn’t words, but a number. One hundred and sixty-two. Leigh pulled the trigger.

  Winnie flew backwards from the impact, her feet leaving the ground as blood exploded out from the center of her forehead, dead before she even hit the ground. Her slender legs gave a single kick and then they were still. Blood pooled underneath her head, a bright crimson stain on the dark Blackriver soil. Leigh watched her body, waiting for the regret to hit.

  It didn’t.

  After a second, Henry let out a cry as he yanked the knife away from his own throat and raised his hands to his head, shaking it back and forth. Then his head jerked up, his green eyes frantically searching for her.

  “LEIGH!” He screamed her name embarrassingly loud as he ran towards her. She dropped the gun from her shoulder, her thundering heart pounding so loud that it muted everything but him. She lurched to her feet in time to stumble into his waiting arms, and together they fell to their knees and wrapped themselves around each other in disbelief. He pushed the hair out of her eyes.

  “I’m here.” He said, taking her in. “We’re here.” Leigh tightened her arms around him, knowing she would hold him as long as he would let her.

  After a minute, she looked over Henry’s shoulder at Winnie’s still body. Her eyes were pointed at the sky, and Leigh let a shudder pass through her body. But then Leigh saw her mother’s head slowly sinking under the water and knew that she wouldn’t lose sleep over kil
ling Winnie. It was over. She clutched Henry’s shirt and together they climbed to their feet. Behind them, they heard a shuffle, and Leigh whipped around in time to see Dr. Saratoga climb to her feet, back from the dead.

  Without hesitation, she raised the rifle once more. “Put your hands up!” She yelled. “Don’t move an inch!” Dr. Saratoga did as she was told, her face paling when she saw Winnie dead on the ground.

  “You killed her.” She stammered.

  “Yeah, well, we thought she had killed you.” Henry retorted.

  “I let her believe that she did.” The Dr. said, her eyes still on Winnie’s body. “But I still had another Faraday Cage in my other ear, a newer model of my own making. I let her think I snapped my own neck. That’s the thing about Winnie: She never doubted her own powers, even when she should have.”

  Her eyes met Leigh’s. “May I see her?” Leigh nodded but kept the gun trained on her as she stepped over toward Winnie’s body. Claire Saratoga knelt, brushing the golden hair back from her young face, folding her hands over her chest.

  “One more dead person in Blackriver.” She whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. “We never meant for this to happen. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. She was supposed to walk away. We never thought…”

  “That’s what happens when you cage a wild animal.” Snapped Leigh. “They go a little mad and have to be put down, but it’s often someone else’s fault.” She raised her chin. “This is your fault. And hers.”

  The doctor nodded as a sob escaped her throat. “I’ll bury her. Here, where she loved the quiet. My poor little girl. Will you help me?”

  Leigh shook her head. “No. This poor little girl committed a massacre. So, no, we won’t help you. Winnie probably could have had a different future, probably could have used her gift for so much good, but instead I’m guessing you were hoping to use her for something else.”

  “Like a weapon.” Adding Henry. “That’s what I’m guessing that little experiment on Blackriver was ultimately about. That’s where your support comes from – am I right? The hush money, the goons. That’s how you paid off the Tensleep police department to stay quiet. That’s why you scared Ford and her family into silence, because you are protecting those people above you.”

  Leigh nodded as she began walking backwards, her boots sinking into the mud. “You wanted to use her just as much as anyone else did. So yeah, Dr., you can bury your monster. With your own weak hands.” She took a breath, never letting the gun leave her shoulder.

  Behind her, the sun was going down, outlining the mountain ridge with a sliver of violent gold. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Henry is going to change our tires and then we are leaving this valley. Forever.”

  The doctor stood up, a new fire burning in her eyes. Leigh was glad to be holding the gun. “You can’t tell anyone, ever, about what happened here.” She said. “Neither of you. You don’t need to fear the Pathfinder Collective, but you do need to fear those who fund us. My deal is this: You won’t tell anyone what happened here and in return, you both can return to your lives.” She neared Leigh, her eyes blazing. “I am offering you a trade, Miss Montgomery. Your life for my silence. And my life for your silence.” She paused and stuck out her hand. “You won’t find a more generous offer from the men already on their way here. The ones with real badges.”

  Leigh thought for a moment. There was a time to be clever, and the window was opening. “Fine. But there’s one more thing. A non-negotiable in return for never speaking of the murder of my parents and all the people they loved.”

  Dr. Saratoga raised her chin, her eyes red-rimmed and guilty. “Anything.”

  “I want my education paid for, and Henry’s as well. I want a deposit made into our accounts at Harvard, enough for the rest of undergrad. That is the cost of our silence. And I want it to be there when we get back.”

  “Leigh…” Started Henry, but she silenced him with a hand, guilt curling out of every pore. A sad smile crossed the doctor’s face.

  “Well, Leigh you are quite colder than I thought.”

  Leigh shook her head. “Not cold. Just a girl used to doing what it takes to survive.” Her eyes lingered on Winnie’s body. “And after you bury her, don’t come back here. Ever.” She spit at the doctor’s feet. “You don’t deserve to walk this sacred ground.” With that, she finally turned away as the sight of Winnie’s blood - like a blot on a landscape painting – carved itself into brain forever.

  25

  The tires were quickly mended; only two of them had been shot out, and there were spares. While Henry changed them, Leigh said a swift goodbye to Napoleon, kissed him once on the nose and rested against his side for a minute before slapping his flank to send him on his way. She couldn’t linger, and he made that hard. She watched as his beautiful grey and black hide disappeared under the trees near the end of the basin, where she knew a field of delicious grass lay on the other side. He would be okay; this valley would provide more than enough for him, and he would find his wild friends soon enough. He could stay; she could not.

  Henry didn’t hesitate. As soon as Leigh climbed into the car, he was hurtling away from the center of the valley, the car bouncing towards the mining trail that would take them out of town. Leigh looked back as they drove away, to where Dr. Saratoga was struggling to pick up Winnie’s body. The girl slid out of her arms the first two times, until Dr. Saratoga finally was able to get her on her shoulder, blood dripping down her shirt. The scene, Leigh knew, would carve its way into her brain forever. She wanted to watch it all pass by as they drove: the stark pines and the white pockets of snow, the wildflowers and the looming peaks above, but she couldn’t look back; not ever.

  Eventually, Henry broke the silence as he reached for her hand. “When I was under Winnie’s control, when she was in my mind; the only thing I could hold onto was the fear that I would hurt you. There was only darkness and this one blazing light, and that was you, Leigh.” He looked over at her. “It feels like so long ago I marveled at the girl at the bar. I thought you were like a quiet snowstorm, pretty as a picture.” His fingers trailed over the back of her hand. “And now I know that you aren’t that girl either.”

  Leigh leaned her head against his shoulder, more exhausted than she had ever been in her life.

  “And who am I now?” A murderer?

  Henry pulled out onto the main road. “A strong Wyoming wind. One that has no use for still, pretty pictures.” Leigh squeezed his hand at the compliment, knowing that she didn’t deserve it but letting it fill her anyways.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, among all this.” She said it simply, and Henry leaned over to let their lips meet in the middle. In all her life, she would never understand how something so beautiful could have come so quickly out of so much ugliness, but he was here, and she would cling to that goodness. The beauty with the blood. They drove in silence for a few hours, each of them lost in their own traumatic memories of the last few days, before Leigh sat up in her seat, her feet pressed against the dashboard.

  “Henry…look!” Lights had started appearing on the horizon. The city of Cody blazed in the darkness, the light illuminating Leigh’s face as she sat forward. Gas stations and bars, motels and lighted street signs all came rushing towards them. “I never noticed how beautiful it was, the light, the people.” She murmured, her heart pulling towards the glow, to where people were living and breathing.

  As Leigh watched the town grow closer, she felt again for the unfamiliar spark in her mind. There was something there, something new. It carried no malice, but it was foreign. Somehow a tiny, dormant piece of Winnie had remained in Leigh’s mind, a reminder of how she had almost lost herself. Not just to Winnie, but to Harvard, and to the idea that she wasn’t enough. She reached into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the postcard that had somehow stayed with her all this time. She pulled it out and turned it over.

  Don’t come home. She smiled through tears.

  Henry turned to her
. “What is it?”

  “Oh, I’m just realizing that even when she was dead, my mother was still trying to tell me what to do. She was trying to protect me and of course, I didn’t listen.” With a heavy heart, Leigh pressed the postcard up against her lips. “I came home.”

  “Home is a place you carry.” Henry said softly, following the signs to the airport. Leigh smiled through blurry tears. Henry spoke truth: She would carry Blackriver with her: the place, the people, and the horror of what happened there. She would gladly bear its weight. Home was her now, a place in her heart where her parents would live. A place where she would allow others to find her.

  The Cody airport appeared ahead of them, and she watched Henry’s chest fill up with a sigh of relief. There would be time to go over everything, to talk through what they had seen and experienced. But right now, she would carry this boy out of here on her back if need be. She had to get them both out of Blackriver.

  And then, once they were safe, Leigh Mae Montgomery had a plan.

  A few hours later, they were on the first flight to Denver. As Henry slept beside her, Leigh watched as the plane rose above the grey clouds and Wyoming laid itself at her feet; a violent beauty who gave and took away, and one that Leigh knew she would never see again. She watched until the lights of Cody faded, and as the plane turned to make its journey east, she saw the ridge of the mountains, and buried below them, a town. Her parents. A dangerous mind at rest. Leigh shut the shade and leaned back in her seat, her eyes closing as she carried her home safe against her chest.

  26

  Epilogue

  Three Years Later

  Sitting in her dorm room, Leigh let her fingers drift gently over the postcard from her mother. She had held onto it for the last three years, a reminder that what had happened in Blackriver was real. It had cost her, but she had made it through with Henry by her side. Though she would never say it, their love was the only thing that had made it survivable. She didn’t sleep much, but during her waking hours, she was happy. A modern day miracle. She picked up the postcard and set it gently beside the flat black cap on her bed.