Under the Overtree

by James A. Moore

  Heart too low in his stomach for health, the deputy looked towards the roof and prayed for a miracle, anything to avoid having to arrest all of these men. A miracle showed itself to him, in the form of Chuck Hanson. Dave decided that God had a twisted sense of humor in that moment and knew in his soul that today the joke was on him.

  3

  Lisa was most of the way to Tyler’s home when her tire blew. She held the wheel tightly and gently pumped the brakes on her car as she pulled over to the edge of the road, cursing fiercely all the way. After the argument she and Tyler had just had, she didn’t need anything else going wrong.

  Tyler was acting like a little boy; ignoring her phone calls and acting like the search for some stupid book was more important than being with her. Well, she had had more than enough of that and she intended to let him know it. She cared about him, suspected that she might even be falling for him, but she wasn’t going to tolerate his treating her like shit just because he couldn’t find a book. Nossiree, that wouldn’t do at all.

  With a sigh of epic proportions, she switched on her hazard lights and stepped out of the car. Happily, her father hadn’t hesitated to put a little extra money into buying a real spare for her car, instead of one of those cheap little donut tires most companies now used. After fighting for several minutes with her trunk key and then with the spare tire and jack, Lisa set about actually replacing the shredded mess that was once her right front tire.

  Lisa was not a horribly physical person, nor was she gifted with a great amount of patience. After about five minutes of struggling with the lug nuts and getting absolutely nowhere, she threw the jack away from her and crossed her arms for a proper pout. The day just kept getting worse and worse.

  It took only a second or so to realize that the tire iron hadn’t made a clanking sound after she tossed it. Confusion getting the best of her, she turned in the direction of her ill timed toss and saw the dark figure of Mark Howell standing not four feet behind her to the right. He was holding her tire iron in his hand and smiling brightly in the twilight. “Lose something?”

  Lisa let slip a little squeak of fright, before she could stop herself. “What are you doing here, I thought you were off in Denver?”

  Mark’s smile increased in wattage as he came over to where she squatted next to the treacherous tire and helped her stand using his free hand. As always, his touch left her feeling slightly weak-kneed and she immediately chastised herself for the thoughts running through her mind. Oddly, the look on Mark’s handsome face seemed to reflect the thoughts she was having, or maybe it was just the way the scar on his face made his mouth smirk. He brushed back a stray lock of hair, as he replied to her question with a laugh. “We just got back. I saw the lights from my little spot in the woods and figured I’d see what was going on. Looks like this is my chance to help a lovely damsel in distress.” He winked slowly, as his grin increased again. “I never could resist a damsel in distress.”

  Lisa was fairly certain she was reading the look on his face properly at this point and she frowned slightly, puzzled by the way he was acting. Mark was, as far as she could tell, head over heels in love with Cassie. Mark simply didn’t have it in him to play the field. He had even had a chance at this particular field once and passed it by. So what the hell was going through his mind now? As if reading her mind, he smiled broadly and responded to her unasked question.

  “Cassie had to get home, her folks left a message on the machine. I’m too bored to rest and when I saw your little problem, I thought I’d come and help.” He flashed that impish smile of his again. “Unless you’d rather fix the tire on your own…”

  Shifting her mind away from his smile and thoughts of what might be going on in his head, Lisa hastily assured Mark that she had no desire to try her luck any longer with the thrice damned invention of torment. He bowed mockingly and waited until she was out of the way before starting on the stubborn lug nuts from hell.

  Despite her affections for Tyler, Lisa couldn’t help but admire the cords of muscle on his shoulders and neck, the way that they rippled as he flexed in combat with the stubborn bits of metal. She still couldn’t quite understand the odd mix of feelings whenever she was close to him. Lust was obviously a heavy influence, but at the same time, she saw in him the exact same kindness she saw in Tyler. If only Tyler looked that good.

  It only took him five minutes to accomplish the task she had failed to even get started in twice that time. After he had settled the damaged traitorous tire in the trunk’s resting spot and had replaced the tire-jack in the proper location, he once again turned into a shy and awkward young man.

  Her heart went out to him, the way he stared while trying so hard not to, the way he blushed whenever their eyes met for more than a split second. She had long ago forgiven that awkward night so long in the past, but it was still obvious that he hadn’t. He looked like a puppy dog that had been caught piddling on the carpet when he noticed her stare; she turned her eyes away, more to let him gather his thoughts than because she herself was in any way embarrassed.

  “Uh, well, I guess I better get home.” The words were directed towards her, but his gaze was aimed directly at the ground beneath his feet.

  “Can I give you a lift?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ll go into the woods, do a little walking around.” He managed to look at her for just a second, before turning away. “See ya ’round.”

  She couldn’t help herself, she just couldn’t stand to see him looking so dejected. Lisa ran forward, managing to get in front of Mark and, as he looked up in surprise, threw her arms around his neck. He stiffened for a moment, as if struggling not to run and then relaxed, patting her back affectionately. “Thanks for the help, Mark. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “N-no problem.” She felt the warmth of his breath on her neck and ear and felt her knees trying to go all watery. Against all common sense, she turned her head up to look him in the eyes, a small part of her wondering if he would ever stop growing—the first time they’d actually kissed they were much closer to the same height—she lightly placed her lips against his. He responded with unexpected passion.

  His hands ran across her back, his tongue danced teasingly across her teeth, his arms surrounded her like two iron bars sheathed in a thin layer of flesh. She pulled back, trying to resist what she was feeling, trying hard to think about Tyler and even Cassie. Mark leaned forward as much as she pulled back.

  Frantically, she pulled her head back from his, literally gasping for breath. “Mark, no, we shouldn’t be doing this.” Before she could continue, he lowered his head, nibbled lightly at her neck. She pushed against him with both hands, having absolutely no effect whatsoever on his oral examination of her nape. She was rapidly getting angry, thoughts of Cassie and Tyler washing away what had been the start of passion moments ago. Once it wouldn’t have mattered, now it bothered her a great deal. She realized in a far distant part of her mind just how much she had changed in the last few months, how good Tyler had been to her; how, even after all that had happened, Cassie had accepted her as a friend and she didn’t want to betray those trusts.

  Lisa started actually beating against his chest and would have tried to knee him in the groin, had he not maneuvered himself so that his crotch was turned away from her. In response, his powerful arms reached lower than they had before as he grabbed her buttocks in both hands, squeezing hard enough to cause pain.

  Lisa pulled her hand back as far as she could, determined to strike him in the nose or jaw, to get him to stop immediately at any cost. But, all power left her arm when she looked at his face. The features were the same she had seen a hundred times before, the same she had studied intently when she first thought about getting to know him better, but the expression on all of those almost girlish features was like nothing she’d ever expected to see on Mark Howell’s face.

  He looked utterly insane, a grin of raw viciousness spread across his sensuous lips, his nostrils fl
ared like those of an animal sniffing for its prey. But his eyes, God above, his eyes burned with a hideous strength, an elemental power that promised to destroy her. If she had ever doubted that the eyes were the mirror to the soul, she doubted no longer. She was certain that she had just seen the true soul of Mark Howell staring at her and she was equally certain that his soul was as empty of kindness as the cold depths of outer space.

  She tried to scream, but as she sucked in a breath for just that reason, one of Marks hands slapped across her mouth, successfully stopping the sound and breaking the full skin of her lower lip. As she felt his free arm wrap around her waist and felt the ease with which she was lifted off of the ground, she had serious doubts about whether or not she would live through the night.

  Later, after a seemingly endless trek through the woods, as she felt the clothes literally torn from her body, she fought again until she was pounded in the face by Mark’s fist for her trouble. Most of her mind was filled with pain, the desire to escape the torment that ran through her entire body. The smaller parts, as yet distanced from the searing agonies, wondered if it would ever stop, if she would ever see her family again and how she could have ever cared for the fiend that was doing this to her.

  Eventually, her mind just refused to think anymore. But it took a long, long time.

  4

  Chuck Hanson had heard the stranger’s story, had heard it collaborated by Dino, whom he knew to be a reliable source, but he had trouble believing the words.

  Oh, he understood as well as anyone that Summitville took automatic offense to any stranger in town and he understood well enough that everyone of the locals involved could have started the fight. That wasn’t the problem. It was just the thought of this well dressed stranger taking out most of his assailants that he had trouble swallowing. That the man was athletic was obvious by the way his clothes fit him; that he was capable was obvious by the end results of the fight. But, he was almost disgustingly polite. As a general rule, Chuck Hanson found polite people to be…well, wimpy; Clark Kents, not Supermen.

  The man, John Crowley, was nothing but helpful, going so far as to offer to pay for any and all damages done to Dino’s place in the fight, but something about him just didn’t quite ring true. He swallowed the thought as he turned to ask the man a few more questions.

  “How long you in town for, Mister Crowley?”

  The man shrugged, looking a little dazed as the adrenaline wore off in his system. “I honestly don’t know, I’m just here to visit an old friend, P.J. Sanderson. He gave me a call not long ago and I finally had a chance to join him up here. Seems like it’s been forever since we had a chance to talk. I’m guessing maybe about a month or so.” Again that oddly friendly smile peeked from his face, just a hint of amusement to go along with the cheerful words.

  Hanson thought about that for a minute or so before adding, “What is it that you do, Mister Crowley? Not too many people have that kind of free time these days.”

  Crowley grinned ear to ear, a light, mischievous twinkle striking his eyes. “I must confess, Sheriff, I’m just a filthy stinkin’ rich dilettante. Mostly, I enjoy the sights and pretend to paint. Big inheritance and no desire to make it bigger.”

  Hanson decided then and there that the man would need watching; something in the way the words rolled off of his tongue was simply too practiced, as if he’d used the exact same line in every town he came to for the last five years. He brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes and nodded at the man still smiling at him. “I appreciate your help, Mister Crowley. If you want to file charges on any of these boys I’ll be glad to be of assistance.”

  Crowley’s face twisted for a moment, the mischief replaced by serious thought. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Sheriff.” His grin came back, twisting upward on the left side of his face and becoming more a smirk than anything else. He shifted his eyes to where the men sat nursing wounded arms and egos. “I imagine they’ve already been taught a lesson.”

  That was when Dino barged into the conversation, her gravelly voice catching the attention of every person in the room. “They damn well better have,” she started, glaring balefully at the group of men who now looked rather sheepish about the whole incident. “’Cause if it happens again, I’ll press charges! You already got half the damages added to your tabs, boys and you will pay the tabs…” Hanson grimaced, knowing that the incident was far from over in Dino’s eyes and knowing that until the tabs were paid in full, he’d keep hearing about it.

  Just once, he thought to himself, I’d like to see someone other than Dino get in the last word…

  5

  William Phillips was sober, a condition he tried hard to avoid these days. Sober was bad enough, but the constant throbbing in his nose simply added to his overall discomfort. He grimaced in reflection, still shocked by how quickly the stranger had sent him into unconsciousness. He hadn’t even gotten in one good lick before the man was all over him like stink on shit. Three rapid-fire shots to his face and he was down for the count. The scary part was, he just knew the man had been holding back. The thought made him shiver inwardly, sending images of what his face would look like now if the man hadn’t gone easy on him.

  Probably like Andy’s had, on the few occasions he’d let himself cut loose on the boy…His mind did a flip-flop at the thought of his only child, now dead for almost nine months. He longed for a drink. The thought of his son did that to him these days and he thought about his son an awful lot. The wounds just wouldn’t go away; the disgrace of finding out what his son had done, compounded by the creeping guilt that told him he was to blame. He should have spent more time with the boy, he should have explained things to his son more carefully, he should have been sterner, and he should have been kinder to the boy…The thoughts simply wouldn’t leave him alone.

  Myra didn’t make it any easier. She’d been the first to lay the blame on him. That they’d been in love once was still a thought that hurt, but somehow the love had faded, replaced by a bitter melancholy that stood as a wall between them. William Phillips longed for the past to return, the past that had always seemed so bright and hopeful.

  Those were the thoughts that insisted on coursing through his brain, round and round in a never-ending circular argument, as he drove down the winding stretch of Third Street. Those thoughts were just coming back to his sobriety and desire for that condition to be gone, when he hit the naked and screaming Lisa Scarrabelli as she ran across the road in a blind panic.

  6

  Time went very slowly for Lisa after the first assault. She lay in a dazed pain-filled stupor for a span that could have been minutes or hours. And the assaults just kept coming. It wasn’t very long before her entire body felt wrapped in a blanket of hot iron that pulsed as wildly as her heart beat.

  Slowly, very slowly indeed, she became aware of the absence of new aches, the absence of Mark’s continuing efforts on her body. It was rather like being under water with weights attached to her body and then having the weights removed; she felt herself float back towards the real world as if from the bottom of a very deep lake. In a short time she became aware of how cold she was, an odd thought considering the time of year.

  It was still dark out, something she considered to be a plus. One small part of her mind realized, in a distant voice, that being seen in public as she was would be socially incorrect. Most of her couldn’t have cared less.

  What had actually occurred here, in the woods, was finally starting to sink in when she heard the voices. They were familiar voices, tone and meter she had grown to know over the last few months, the deep melodic rumble of Mark’s voice interwoven with the higher lighter clipped notes of Cassie’s. It took less than a second for the full implication of what those voices meant to sink into her tortured mind. Fear, like a rabid dog, leapt at her throat and sank its chilling fangs deep into her, locking vocal cords that otherwise would have sent the shrieks of a mad woman echoing through the woods. With less sound then she would n
ormally have managed, she scrabbled frantically to her feet and started to run.

  From a distance, she heard the voice of her tormentor, so full of innocent concern that she almost stopped her dash away from him. “Lisa? Lisa, is that you? Are you all right?” His voice was joined by Cassie’s, as the sounds of pursuit started. The footsteps gained on her easily; the sound of brittle twigs and crumbling leaves being pushed away by his powerful strides coming closer with every step she took. Two semicoherent thoughts raced briefly to the surface of her mind only to be slammed back down by the fear that now overwhelmed her; “Mark never makes that much noise…what’s wrong with him?” and “When did he learn to run so fast?”

  Even in her tortured state, she could hear the second set of steps, the steps of her friend, Cassie, falling back from those of her tormentor.

  With a desperate burst of speed, she forced herself to gain distance, forced her legs to piston and pump as they never had before. Lisa felt no pain from the thorns and branches that lashed against her flesh, drawing welts and blood both. She never felt the rocks that sliced through the soles of her feet. She felt only the terror of pursuit, the stark cold certainty that the man following her would never let her go, would use her again and again for as long as they both lived.

  Elation started to mingle with the fear when Lisa realized that he was no longer gaining on her. She looked over her bruised shoulder only briefly, to reconfirm what her ears were telling her, that he had stopped chasing her. He stood stock still, almost a hundred feet back, his right arm held out, as if to ask her to see reason, to come back and tell him what was wrong. She almost laughed at the look of fear and dawning realization on his face; probably would have laughed, had it not been for the look of growing horror on Cassie’s face where she stood only a few feet behind him and the sudden light from behind her coming towards her at a speed that was utterly inhuman.