Melinda rasped through clenched teeth, “What do we do?”
“We go the other way, and if they follow, we duck into the woods on the far side of the road.”
She looked to her left at the wall of foliage. No break in the undergrowth offered entrance to the woods, much less a visible means to escape a town full of Jesus freaks. Then a dark patch caught her attention—a depression in the leafy barrier with a muddy patch of standing water carpeting the area.
“Got it,” she said, her pulse beating rabbit-fast.
Jason turned to the old man in the parking lot just as the fat woman emerged from the church. “Where's the service being held?”
“Don't you even speak to them, Ezekiel! Their evil ways smote Michael!”
“Smote,” Jason said, “doesn't that mean ‘kill?’” His hands started shaking uncontrollably. “I...I didn't kill anyone!”
A thunderclap ripped through the sky overhead followed by a deluge of water. Melinda pulled free of Jason and ran for the tree line. She plowed into the standing water and trudged into the forest's access. The shower's roar deafened her to any sign of Jason's, or anyone else's, pursuit. Sneakers filled with runoff, muddy sludge soaking into her socks with each step. Further she plowed, branches raking across her face and shirt, tearing fabric and drawing blood. Dozens of steps passed, and then suddenly the undergrowth thinned, held at bay by the carpet of pine needles blanketing the ground. She stumbled, then a hand grabbed her forearm, jerking her back to her feet. A scream escaped her.
“Shhh,” Jason said. “Keep moving! They're right behind us!”
Melinda fell into step behind her husband, content to let him lead after her experience with getting into Fellowship's woods. Ten steps became twenty—twenty became forty—after seventy she lost count in an effort to keep up with Jason. Behind them, an occasional call echoed out over the rain's din, sometimes far away—but never far enough. They stopped to catch their breath, which came to both in great heaves.
Melinda spoke up, gulping air before each word. “We...should...circle...back.”
“We can't,” he whined.
She stared at him in disbelief. He actually whined.
“They said I killed him.” Jason dropped to his knees before falling onto his side. He grasped a handful of muddy needles in his right hand, letting fingertips burrow into the soft soil.
Melinda looked down at the man she married, unsure how to deal with this broken representation of the dreamer she loved. After a moment of watching him, she knelt, “You didn't mean it. We both thought that guy was getting up to hurt us. You did what you had to...to keep us safe. But,” she put a hand on his hip, “you need to get up. We need to circle around and get our car.”
Jason sat bolt upright. “No.”
“Honey–”
“No.” He turned to her and grasped her still outstretched hand in his muddy grasp. “That's what they're expecting. We need to continue north.” He pushed himself to his feet using her as balance. “We'll come back after dark.”
“What we need is to call the police.”
“With what?” he spat. “The cell phones haven't worked for the past hour. Do you really think that one of those nut jobs is going to let us use their phone? They want blood, Mel. My blood.” He looked into her eyes, “Yours too.”
“Jason–”
Another call echoed, closer than before.
“C'mon.”
Melinda pulled free of his hands and brushed the soil on her jeans. She sighed and waived him on, following close behind.
They continued in what they hoped to be a northerly direction, but with the dense trees it was hard to tell anything beyond the fact that it was slightly brighter to their left on such a cloudy day. Evening light on the left meant they were going north, right? She pondered this as the growth thickened once more.
A river? A road maybe?
Suddenly Jason wasn't in front of her and nature's roar grew in intensity. She stumbled, right foot slipping on mud worthy of a pigpen. Arms pinwheeled and she lost her balance, tumbling down the hill in a nursery rhyme parody of Jack and Jill. An icy splash of water broke the fall and her senses went from a vertigo-strewn fall into an uncontrollable spin in the water. Facedown, she fought to right herself. Foam splashed up, filling her open mouth and stealing what little air she'd managed to hang onto. Melinda splashed her hands down in an attempt to get her head above water. Her body slowed and pulled against the current. I'm hung up, she thought. She splashed a second time, drawing in a lungful of air before sinking once more. Foreign fingers tangled in her hair and with a root-ripping jerk, she was pulled onto a rock by Jason.
While vomiting and coughing helped clear the water Melinda had taken in, it didn't help the overwhelming sense she was going to choke to death any second. No clear lungful of air could be gotten at any cost. She lay on her back, legs still in the icy river and stared at the sky. The rain continued with a steady serving of water. Jason lay beside her, his own expulsions more evident than hers with white residue both on the rock and down the front of his polo shirt.
“There they are!”
Instinct took over and they pulled themselves the rest of the way out of the water, numb legs slowly responding to commands given them. Jason stopped her and stared back across the river. “They can't get to us.” He pointed excitedly. “Look, Mel!”
Melinda stared at the boulder-strewn waterway. A clutch of seven townspeople stood at the far bank's edge, fifteen feet away.
“Murderers!”
“Sinners!” cried another.
Jason stood and yelled back at the overall-wearing old man they'd seen in the restaurant, “You started it! You hurled–”
A baseball sized rock thwapped right beside Melinda's leg.
“Stone them!”
“Jesus,” Jason said, unintentionally infuriating their religious pursuers.
Melinda stood beside him. “We've gotta go!”
One man carrying a hayfork, younger than the others, took a running jump at the river. His legs pistoned through the air as he crossed the majority of the distance before crashing chest-deep into the river. As the man landed, he stabbed his fork into the water, using it to gain better purchase. A volley of rocks flew from the far side of the river, showering all around Jason and Melinda.
Jason grabbed a stone of his own and hurled it side-armed at the wading aggressor. It arced high and, to the surprise of everyone, struck the man in the collarbone, knocking him off balance and into a heavier part of the river's current. The river whipped his flailing form as it shot out of sight. He bobbed like a cork as he disappeared from sight.
“They're trying to kill Ethan!” Julia, the waitress from the restaurant, screamed.
Melinda yelled, “You crazy bastards! You're trying to kill us. What did you expect?” She backed up further on the bank, careful not to catch her foot in one of the ankle-breaking holes boulders left. Her husband followed, scooping up two more rocks as he went. They watched, warily, as the old man said something to the group and pointed up river. Their gaze followed his and Melinda felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach with what they saw.
The highway's bridge was less than two hundred yards away.
“Shit!” Jason yelled. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”
Backs turned, the two scrambled up the rocky bank and plowed their way back into the woods. Smells of decaying plants and mud assailed their nostrils. Waning light gave the surroundings a more ominous look and Melinda couldn't help but to expect a crazed townie to jump out from one of the trees they ran past. While none did, they did have a near miss with a wild pig, its surprised screech matching her own.
Without warning they burst from the woods and back onto the road.
Melinda bent over, hands on her knees, and worked to catch her breath. Blood wept from a half dozen places where branches snagged both shirt and skin during their escape. She rubbed at one on her left shoulder, mindful of the stinging sensation radiating down her arm,
and watched Jason as he stared nervously back in the direction they'd come.
“I figure…" he said, his own breaths coming in gasps, "we've got...ten...maybe fifteen...minutes on them.” Jason bent at the waist, mimicking Melinda's stance. “They'll have to go back...into the woods to...get to the road. The bank was too steep...on their side.”
“That's if they don't...go after Ethan.” She felt her teeth chatter and wondered with disjointed curiosity if it was from the onset of hypothermia or simply shock.
“Good point.”
No double yellow line marred the asphalt on this side of the bridge. Trees hung over the road, giving only a little more light than when they'd been in within the tree line. Flowers and grass grew in the increasing number of unsealed cracks in the pavement. The rain eased to a fine mist, and while it still pelted their exposed skin with icy aggression, the numbing effect eased.
Jason started across the road to the opposing tree line.
“Wait,” Melinda said.
“Hon, we've got to keep moving. They're not that far behind.”
“…on the road.”
“What? No!” He shook his head, emphatically.
Melinda stood and crossed the half dozen steps to meet him on the far shoulder. “Just for a couple of minutes. The mud's killing my feet and I can't keep up with you. We'll stay on the shoulder so we can just pop in.” Pop in, she thought, plowing into this excuse for woods was more like trying to navigate a Cuisinart.
Jason looked back down the road and then north. “At some point we're going to have to either try to flag someone down or climb a tree and try to call for help.”
“The phones!” Melinda grabbed at the holster on her hip and pulled the phone free. Water dripped from the unit's jack and the LCD display offered nothing save a dark gray smear along the right side of the screen.
“Just put it back.” He started walking along the shoulder, as she wanted. “Maybe they'll work once they dry out.”
Re-holstering the device, Melinda followed, picking up her pace until she stepped in time with her husband. “North, huh?”
“We really need to be going south, back to the car.”
A laugh escaped her.
“What?”
“Think Tommy's pissed?”
“Tommy? The tow truck guy?”
She mimicked his Mainer accent, “Back in two hours. Stay here.”
“Best God damned advice I've heard all day.”
Up ahead the road petered out, going from painted pavement to dirt. Though still hard packed, the diminishing aspects of modern society fell heavy on the two. They continued along the road, each taking an unspoken turn to glance warily in the direction they'd come. Thirty minutes passed without incident. No visible pursuit ensued. Only the road, red clay beaten to a respectable impersonation of rock, lay before and behind them.
Jason stopped. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Shhhh.”
Melinda kept walking, but craned her head and listened. She could only the softer hiss of the mist impacting everything around them.
“There it is again.”
“You're imagining things.” Then she heard it—an engine, driving slow and getting closer. Fear grabbed hold and she stepped off the road and into the undergrowth, following Jason's retreating form. They watched from the embrace of two pine trees as a patrol car rounded the bend and passed.
“It's Haskel!”
“Hoskel,” she corrected and pushed from their hiding place, emphatically waiving her arms. Jason followed suit.
The patrol car skidded to a stop in time with the bubble gum lights flicking on. Strobing red and blue shot fiery colors against the woods. Officer Hoskel stepped out, pulled her sidearm and drew a bead on the two of them.
“Freeze!”
Both did, already having their hands up in the air.
Melinda took a step forward. “Oh, thank God you found us.”
“I said freeze!”
Melinda did as she was told. “The town, they're full of crazies.”
“Just keep your hands where I can see them.” She took two steps to the side to get a better view of Jason, who unlike his wife, had stayed frozen in place upon being told to. Her gun lowered some, but still pointed in their general direction. “You two look like a couple of drowned rats.”
“The town–”
“I heard you, ‘full of crazies.’” Officer Hoskel's stance eased. “The way they tell it, you,” she motioned to Jason, “bashed some poor guy's face in with a computer.”
“They threw a napkin thing at me first. Smashed my system's screen.”
“So that gave you the right to–”
“They acted like they were going to hurt me,” Melinda cut in. “They'd already thrown the dispenser and this huge guy started to get up.” Tears, so unlike Melinda to shed, started to fall. “Jason threw it so we could get out of there.”
The gun lowered, now pointing at the ground.
Jason lowered his hands some, still keeping them above his head. “We're just glad you found us.”
“Okay, okay.” She holstered her weapon. “They yelled at me for driving a car on a Sunday in their little town. Either way, you two get in the back of the car and we'll see exactly what hap–”
A rock flew out from across the road and struck Officer Hoskel in the temple. Her right eye suddenly bulged from the impact. Her hand grabbed the pistol, but seemed unable to draw the weapon from its housing.
Bam!
A shot rang out from the holstered weapon and a spatter of muddy clay erupted in the soil by her feet.
Bam!
Another shot fired down, this time striking the officer in the foot.
Melinda stared at the fresh gunshot wound, expecting to see a fountain of blood fly up. None did.
Officer Hoskel staggered forward, trying to keep on her feet. A mask of confusion marred the woman's face as another rock flew out and struck her in the same spot. The eye burst free from its socket and offered the law woman a decidedly unnatural view down the side of her nose. Knees buckled and the Maine patrolwoman fell, twitching, onto the road.
Jason lowered his hands and ran to his wife's side. “C'mon!”
On queue, townsfolk emerged ahead and behind them, effectively blocking the road in both directions. The number of hayforks and lengths of wood reminded Melinda of a gathering of movie extras from an old Frankenstein film.
“Angry villagers,” she whispered.
The people of Fellowship closed in around the two and the car, stepping carefully.
Jason shoved her towards the open driver's door. “In!”
Melinda dove into the front seat, jamming her pinky finger as she struck the center console. Jason piled in behind her, forcing her legs out of the way as he fell into the seat and slammed the door behind him. One knife split the passenger-side glass and severed the skin between Melinda's middle and ring finger. She jerked her hand away and screamed. A hayfork handled by a middle-aged man with jet-black hair thrust into the front driver's side tire. Jason pulled the lever into drive and stomped on the gas, the tire's momentum jerking the fork from the man's grasp and slamming it back to strike a woman’s forearm with a bone-crunching thwack before continuing its journey and slapping against the ground.
The patrol car lurched forward, knocking into the angry mob, which parted rather than be mowed down. Rocks smashed against the glass, spider webbing them. A sickening grinding sound emanated from the car's left front. Men and women followed alongside the vehicle as it picked up speed, slapping whatever they carried, bare palms in the few cases where no weaponry was carried.
“Oh God, it hurts!” Melinda screamed, holding the split hand together.
Jason ignored the cry, “The pitchfork must still be in the tire.” A second thwap came from the flattened tire and this time a clunk followed by constant metallic scraping screeched through the vehicle. The steering wheel jerked to the left and Jason fought it back t
o the right, fishtailing the car as he sped away from the psychotic foot traffic behind them. They rounded a curve and smashed through a logging gate. Steam started to billow from around the buckled hood.
“A gate? A friggin' gate on the highway?”
Melinda snaked around in the seat until she was upright. “This isn't the highway then.”
“It's got to be the highway.”
They slammed into something. Air bags released, snapping Melinda's head back painfully against the seat. Jason beat against the bag, trying to force the safety device aside. A handful of seconds later, all of the air bladders deflated and lay flaccid against their housings. The car's hood had buckled further, erasing what little could be seen through the shattered glass.
Opening the driver's door, Jason stepped out of the patrol car and placed both hands on its roof and rested his forehead against the exposed weather stripping. Melinda climbed across the seat and started to push past him.
“What's wrong with your door?”
Melinda looked at him a moment, then at the passenger side door before holding up her bloodied hand.
“Oh crap. Mel, what happened?”
“The mob...back at the car…” She corrected herself. “…back at where the car was.”
He helped her out of the vehicle, lifting firmly on her good arm as she extricated herself.
“What in hell?”
Jason looked in the same direction she did. They'd slammed into a parked car...one of many parked cars...a veritable parking lot's worth of parked cars. The hilltop clearing had been filled with vehicles of all years and makes, though most didn't appear to be in junkyard condition. Granted, there was a lot of mud and rust on ones further back in the clearing, but most had more of an abandoned appearance—neatly positioned alongside others—all with windows rolled up and doors closed.
Yells came from the direction they'd retreated.
Jason, still holding onto her arm, jerked her along. “Move! Into the lot!”
Blood and Blasphemy Page 26