Condemned

by Christopher Renna

  When she dropped him off at home, there was an awkward moment in the car. But she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and they smiled, then said goodbye.

  On the sidewalk, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and glanced about the neighborhood. As he was about to turn toward the house, a shadow on the neighbor's driveway caught his eye. He shuddered at the sight of the human-shaped darkness growing longer and bigger. Then he saw the neighbor's small terrier appear from behind the hedge, followed by Mr. Williams holding its leash. Relieved, he smiled and then walked to his house.

  * * *

  Alone, Trevor sat at the breakfast nook, eating the last piece of the lemon meringue pie. He and his buddies had tossed around some ideas about their plan. They hadn't worked out all the details, but they'd at least agreed on the basics. A pair of shoes they could throw away so the tread pattern wouldn't match any shoes they owned. No coat or jacket with buttons that might fall off. Nothing that might be dropped at the scene: phone, wallet, watch, or jewelry of any kind. They'd wear black clothing. And rather than lugging around a five-gallon gasoline can, they'd use water bottles to squirt the fuel onto the tree. And they'd use matches so that they burned in the fire.

  Spending the night at Adam's house was the best choice since his parents were less likely to check on them before morning. The trip to Lake Bantam and back would take two hours. They'd allow themselves one hour to park, walk to the field, and burn the tree. Therefore, they'd have a three-hour window to complete their task. To accomplish it all, they needed to leave Newman around one o'clock.

  Their plan seemed easy. Too easy, they worried. But they were only burning a tree. The only foreseeable problem they considered: discovering that the tree had already been chopped up, supposedly releasing the demon.

  Then what? Call Lou and Stella to ask for advice or assistance? Or hope that the demon wasn't on the hunt for them after all?

  At that moment, Trevor visualized their plan in action. He wanted to work out each step of the process so they could be performed quickly without complications or detection. The only thing they hadn't thought of, which he now contemplated: what if the neighboring trees also went up in flames? Would the other trees burn easily once the demon tree burned?

  * * *

  Adam tossed himself onto his bed and yanked the comforter over his body. Staring at the textured ceiling, he tried to think about anything but the demon. Yet he couldn't help but imagine the tree burning to charred ruins.

  He was excited by their plan. It made him feel like they were doing something important by fulfilling Jared's request. Once the tree was gone, maybe he'd finally be able to move forward without the weight of guilt and sorrow like concrete on his shoulders. Then he'd finally feel like his usual self again.

  A thump in the hall outside his bedroom caused him to twitch with fright.

  Adam glanced at the door, listening for another thump. Instead, he heard footsteps on the hardwood flooring. Lacking the typical stomp of his father, Adam listened for his mother to pass by his bedroom. But there was a soft knock on the door.

  Whatever she wanted to talk about could wait until morning. So, he didn't respond.

  Then the knock, knock, knocking softly on the door returned.

  Jumping out of bed, he hurried across the room and opened the door a crack. "What? I'm trying to sleep."

  The sight of his mother with blood smeared all around her mouth caused him to recoil in terror.

  "Nothing bad ever happens, right?" she asked.

  Adam slammed the door and locked it before rushing to his bed. "Mom!" he called out. "Mom, what's wrong? What happened?"

  The doorknob frantically twisted left and right. "Nothing bad ever happens, right?"

  "Mom!"

  The door bounced in its frame as the doorknob twisted and she screamed, "Nothing bad ever happens, right?"

  "Mom, please!"

  Eyes wide with terror, Adam bolted upright in bed. His chest felt like it might rupture from the force of his hammering heart. Clutching the comforter, he looked at the door and then scrutinized the room. No noise. No frightening sight. Nothing but a nightmare.

  But it had scared the hell out of him nonetheless. He swung his feet to floor, pulled on a pair of basketball shorts, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and then darted out of his bedroom.

  Conner's first thought when his phone rang: I've only been asleep, like, ten minutes. His second thought: Who the hell is it?

  He saw Adam's contact photo on the screen before he even grabbed the phone from the nightstand. "Dude, what's up?"

  "Let me in," Adam demanded. "I'm on your porch."

  "What?"

  "I'm outside. Come let me in."

  It was after midnight and probably thirty degrees outside. Conner darted downstairs to the front door. "What the hell are you doing? It's freezing, you moron."

  Dressed only in shorts, Adam trembled as he hugged his torso. "I know," he muttered, rushing inside and up the stairs.

  Conner entered his room as Adam jumped into his bed and buried himself beneath the comforter. At the side of the bed, Conner asked, "What's wrong?"

  "I had a nightmare. A really bad one."

  "It was just a nightmare." Sitting on the bed, he asked, "You want to tell me about it?"

  "No. Maybe tomorrow. I don't wanna think about it right now."

  "Okay."

  He slipped under the comforter and looked at the covered mound next to him. Adam always sought him out when he needed comfort and reassurance. Not that Conner minded. He liked Adam depending on him for support.

  Adam shivered and groaned in discomfort.

  "Hey," Conner said, "you should put some warm clothes on."

  "I don't even wanna get outta bed."

  "All right."

  Conner relaxed more comfortably, preparing for sleep.

  "I'm freezing," Adam whined. "Hold me."

  Scooting close, on his side, Conner stretched an arm under Adam's head and wrapped the other tight around Adam's torso. He pressed his forehead against the back of Adam's head and chuckled. "You moron."

  He situated himself against Adam's cold-like-sculpted-marble body. Almost instantly, Adam's lack of heat caused Conner to shudder as well. They both lay quietly until warmth finally overpowered the chill.

  Then Adam said, "Talk about something."

  "What?"

  "I don't know. Anything so I don't think about the nightmare."

  "That bad, huh?"

  Adam nodded.

  "Okay. Um . . . tomorrow I have to help Mom clean the house because we have, like, fifteen people coming over for Thanksgiving."

  "It might be nice seeing everyone."

  "Maybe. But that many people in the house is going to be a such a pain until they leave."

  "We're supposed to go to my grandparents for dinner."

  Conner smiled. "Your grandma always bakes really good pies. You should bring me a slice or two."

  "Okay. I will."

  Another minute passed, and then Adam asked, "What if I don't make it into UCONN?"

  "You will."

  "I'll need a scholarship."

  "Adam, please. There's no way they won't offer you a scholarship."

  "You think so?"

  "Of course."

  "But if they don't, what will we do?"

  "We'll figure it out."

  Conner felt Adam's chest inflate with a deep inhale.

  "Promise?" Adam asked.

  "I promise. Everything changes at college, remember? Just like you and I talked about. We'll be fine at UCONN."

  They had lay stitched at the seams for another minute or two before Adam said, "You know, if you ask me . . . I'll always say yes."

  Conner closed his eyes and breathed in Adam's scent. "I know."

  Following a brief pause, Adam said, "Then ask me."

  There were two questions Conner knew Adam referred to. Two questions they'd asked each other many times before. And he also knew,
as Adam stated wholeheartedly, that either question would receive the pledged answer. So, he asked what he considered the most important question. "Do you love me?"

  Adam tightened his grip on Conner's hands and brought them to his lips. "Yes."

  Conner asked the second question without words.

  And Adam responded yes without speaking.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The following day was a flurry of pre-Thanksgiving activity. The three planned to go out to dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant and then return to Adam's to hang out as usual, before embarking on their mission. In the meantime, each spent the day as they normally would.

  Conner carried a bundle of his sheets and pillowcases up the stairs.

  Walking out of the master bedroom, his mother regarded him with an amused but inquisitive look, and then commented, "Nice to see you doing a bit more cleaning than I'd asked. You should convince your brother to do the same."

  "Just making sure everything's done before I meet up with Adam and Trevor."

  "I didn't expect you to do laundry. But thank you. I appreciate it."

  "You're welcome."

  She paused at the top of the stairs. "You're going to come home in the morning, right? There might be some last-minute things to do."

  "Yeah. I'll be back early."

  "Thank you." Two steps down, she paused again. "People will start showing up around eleven."

  "All right, Mom. Don't stress. I'll be here by ten, okay?"

  "Nine, please."

  "Nine thirty at the latest."

  After making the bed and arranging books on the desk, Conner shoved black clothing and a pair of old sneakers into a backpack. He scanned his room, taking a good look as though he might not soon see it again—which he thought likely if the police caught them setting fire to the tree. They'd probably be charged with arson. If that happened, he didn't know what he and the guys would do. They hadn't discussed the possibility of getting caught.

  The three had made a pact not to talk about their plan until they were on their way to Lake Bantam. So, at Adam's, they talked about sports and Thanksgiving. At dinner, they talked about college and their wish to see Aquaman on the day of release the next month. Back at Adam's, they watched two episodes of The 100 on Netflix. Soon after midnight, they went upstairs to Adam's bedroom.

  Forty-five minutes later, they changed into their black clothing and old sneakers. For several minutes, they sat in the living room, listening for any sign of activity from Adam's parents. Once they were certain that Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were likely asleep, the three quietly walked out the back door, made their way along the side of the house, and then darted to Trevor's car.

  "You guys ready?" Trevor asked as he pressed the ignition.

  "Yeah," Adam and Conner replied in unison.

  "Good. Me too."

  The three bumped fists, and then Trevor shifted the car into gear and drove away from Adam's house.

  During the drive, they discussed their plan step by step. Two times. Then a third time. And although their plan wasn't complicated, they went over it a fourth time. For the remaining twenty minutes of the trip, they sat silently as they watched the landscape pass by.

  The moment Conner saw the sign for Litchfield, he tensed with anticipation. Taking the exit, they followed Bantam Road to Bantam Lake Road, then proceeded to make their way toward Lake Forest Passway.

  Without the benefit of nice warm, summer weather, the scenery appeared lifeless. Yet Conner recognized the tree line and several houses they passed. When Trevor turned onto Lake Forest Passway, Conner glanced back at Adam, who seemed a little nervous but smiled.

  "Hopefully this will be easy," Conner said. "In and out."

  "Uh, huh." Adam rested his head against the window, staring into the darkness. "We're doing this for Jared, but for us too."

  Trevor pulled the car alongside the field of grass, parking on the edge of the asphalt road. He opened the console and dropped his phone inside. Adam and Conner followed suit, including their wallets and watches. Anything in any of the coat pockets? Paper? Nothing at all? Good.

  "All right," Trevor said. "We each get two water bottles. Adam, you got the flashlight?"

  Adam held up the mini, LED flashlight.

  "Conner? You got the matches?"

  Nodding, Conner slipped the box of matches from his pocket and then shoved it back inside.

  "I have my car keys, which will be double-clipped inside my coat."

  Trevor was the first to step out into the chilly air. Conner and Adam joined him, careful to close their doors softly.

  It was 2:14.

  Conner pointed out the last house at the end of the road. A light shined in one window.

  "Probably leave it on every night," Adam replied.

  Trevor agreed. "It's nothing." He popped the trunk and retrieved six water bottles from a small box. Closing the trunk gently, he gestured toward the dirt path, then looked at Adam. "Don't use the flashlight if we don't need it. But if we do, let's walk as far from the road as possible before you turn it on."

  On the trail, small bits of crumbled asphalt and gravel crunched underfoot like shards of glass. Without the ambient noise of insects, passing cars, and boaters on the lake, their every sound seemed amplified. And the farther they walked the more a clinging dread wormed its way into Conner's body. It settled in the pit of his stomach like a heavy stone once they reached the clearing in the field.

  Because of the chilly weather, they didn't expect a party. Still, they were relieved not to see a small group of locals swigging bottles of alcohol and sharing a joint.

  At the far end of the clearing, Conner searched the edge of the woodland for the wide, tall old tree. Believing he spotted it, his heart thumped. He whispered, "I think that might be it."

  "Looks like it," Adam said.

  The tree beckoned to them like the torch of a lighthouse to a boat lost at sea. Setting out quickly through the field, they waded through the tall grass, which brushed against their jeans like stiff hay. The ground nearly frozen, it felt like walking on uneven concrete. But it was the wind Conner couldn't stand. It whipped against his face like a frigid slap of the hand.

  Emerging from the field, they stopped at the edge of forest and studied the tree. The four symbols carved into the bark were barely visible. The gap at the bottom where the snake had slithered inside, seemed to mock them like parted lips. Oh, you're here again.

  Conner readied his bottles of gasoline. "Let's get this over with."

  "Wait," Trevor said. "I want to see what the symbols are."

  Adam clicked on the flashlight and directed its beam onto the first etching. It resembled a small mountain or hill.

  "The soil," Trevor said. "That's gotta be the mound of dirt. What did Stella say? Earth. Mother Nature, right?"

  "Yeah," Conner replied. "The next one is"—squinting at the marking, it appeared to be a drop of water—um . . . oh! It's a drop of blood. That's the blood. She said something about spilling of blood."

  The third symbol was clearly the rendering of a snake.

  And the fourth . . .

  Adam knelt at the base of the tree. His eyes fixed on the symbol, he muttered, "I don't know. What the hell is that?"

  "Beats me," Conner said. "It looks like a snowflake to me."

  "It can't be," Trevor replied, crouching next to Adam. "Why would it be a snowflake? It has to be something else."

  "Does it matter?" Conner asked.

  "I guess not. But it's not a snowflake."

  "C'est un portail," a male voice said.

  Startled, Conner wobbled off balance, dropping one of his water bottles as Adam and Trevor jumped to their feet.

  It was the man responsible for Jared's torture and death.

  His sudden appearance had certainly frightened Conner. But it was the gun in his hand that scared him the most.

  "C'est un portail," the man repeated. "A portal."

  When Adam stepped forward, the man aimed the gu
n. "It will only take one shot in the head to kill you." He approached the three. "I can't believe you idiots were stupid enough to come back here." He glanced around. "Where's your friend? Was he smart enough not to come?"

  Conner grimaced. "Screw you."

  "Why are you guys here? You wanted to see something magical happen?" He lowered the gun to his side and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Hey, Papa. What should we do with these idiots?"

  So it was true. The man actually believed a ritual would resurrect his demon-father from the netherworld.

  He flippantly waved the gun at the three like it was more of a prop than a weapon. "Sit down."

  Conner sat his butt on the ground, exchanging worried glances with his buddies. They looked as nervous as he felt. He retuned his gaze to the man. "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm not sure." The man squatted, aiming the gun at the three one by one. "I've been checking the tree for a month or so, but I never expected to actually find you here. I would have brought some rope or something so I could tie you to the tree . . . let Papa do what he wants with you."

  "Your papa?" Trevor scoffed. "You really think a demon is your father? And he's coming back because you cast some spell?"

  The man grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth in the moonlight. "You don't know how these things work. You must believe it, though. You guys came back here for a reason. So why are you here?"

  When no one responded, the man stood and gestured to Adam. "Get your ass over here. Or I'll shoot each one of you."

  Conner gripped the sleeve of Adam's coat, but Adam stood.

  "Get over here," the man ordered. Once Adam was in front of him, he calmly said, "Turn around and get on your knees."

  Adam obeyed, looking at his friends with fearful, watery eyes.

  The man pointed the gun at the back of Adam's head. "Okay. Now, I need a volunteer. Or do I have to pick?"

  "What?" Conner asked. "What do you want us to do?"

  "I want you to go to the tree."

  The muscles in Conner's upper back spasmed in response, tying his nerves in an aching knot. He rose to his feet and walked to the tree while keeping his eye on Adam. "Now what?"

  "Put your hand inside that hole at the bottom."