"What?"
"You heard me!" the man shouted. "You're going to see if the snake is still in there. I checked a few nights ago, and it wasn't too happy about being disturbed."
"What the hell?"
"Snakes usually hibernate during winter. Stick your hand in and see if it's still in there."
"But—" Conner flinched at the loud click of the gun being cocked. "What if it's not?"
"Just stick your hand in. If you piss it off, you better be real quick. Otherwise, you might die from a rattler bite." He tapped the gun on the crown of Adam's head. "If you're lucky, you'll pull out snakeskin."
Any fear Conner had experienced in his life paled in comparison to that moment. A terror throbbed within him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to break down in tears or vomit. His hand trembled with a shake that he didn't think he'd be able to control.
The man yelled, "Do it!"
On all fours, Conner peered into the hole, hoping the moonlight illuminated the tree's hollow enough for him to see inside. But no such luck. He didn't want to feel along the bottom, so he opted to insert his hand slowly by keeping it suspended in the air. An icy flutter glided up his spine.
Could he lie and say that he'd felt the snake? What would the man order them to do next?
He slipped his hand into the darkness. Cautiously moving it from side to side, he felt for the width of the hole. Then he lowered his hand, carefully waving it from one rough-textured end to the other.
The man groaned. "Dammit, stop fucking around. Is the snake in there or not?"
Conner dragged his fingertips across the soil, his hand scraping the woody root-like threads of the hole. When he touched something thin and papery smooth but with veiny ridges, he jerked his hand out into the open air.
"What?!" the man demanded. "Did it bite you?"
"I don't think it's in there."
"Did you feel anything?"
"Yeah. The snakeskin, I think."
"Pull it outta there."
Confident the snake no longer resided in the hole, Conner reached in and yanked the snakeskin out. "See? The snake's gone."
"Holy shit!" The man excitedly danced around. "Give it to me."
He tossed the skin to the man, who snatched it from the ground and eyed it gleefully as if he'd discovered buried treasure.
The man rushed to the tree and knocked Conner to the side. "You're sure the snake isn't in there?"
"I didn't feel anything, and it didn't bite me."
"The fourth skin!" The man stretched the skin from end to end and pressed it against the symbols etched into the tree. Then he glanced around frantically as if searching for something. "Um. Okay. So, what I need to do . . . We need to pin this over the symbols. And then I need the oil to rub on to it." He suddenly froze and then glared at Conner. "You're sure the snake is gone?"
"I told you, I didn't feel anything."
The man dropped to his knees and shoved his hand inside the tree.
Remarkably, the man was more interested in the snakeskin and tree, as though the boys were no longer a concern.
Trevor nodded at Conner, and they both raced forward, ramming the man's body against the tree. Adam immediately joined them, pressing the man's face into the ragged bark.
"You son of a bitch!" Adam yelled.
Flailing about, the man screamed in anger. As he struggled in their grip, he managed to pull the trigger, shooting a bullet into the distance.
Conner shouldered all his weight into the man, pinning him to the tree while Trevor repeatedly slammed the man's hand against the bark until the gun fell to the ground.
Adam seized the weapon and pressed it to the back of the man's head. "Maybe you're just a crazy fucker," he hollered. "But you're not finishing your damn ritual tonight."
The man grunted. "You guys are fucking up big time. You don't know what the hell you're doing. But you're gonna pay."
Conner leaned into the man. "We know more than you think we do. We came here to end this. Your ritual failed."
"It didn't fail your friend."
A distortion of colors blurred Conner's sight, fueled by his rage. He elbowed the man's head. "Go to hell."
Trevor tossed the man to the ground and then lunged on top of him. "Burn the tree!" he yelled.
Conner and Adam scrambled about the ground, searching for the water bottles. At the tree, they squirted the gasoline around the base and as far up the trunk as possible.
Sucking in cold air, Conner plucked the box of matches from his pocket. He struck the match against the box, and it instantly ignited into a billow of fire. Startled, Conner dropped the match and staggered backward.
The man shouted, wrenching himself from Trevor's grasp. He crawled toward the tree, wailing, "No! Look what you've done. No. No. No. Papa!"
Leaping flames climbed higher and higher along the trunk. The tree snapped, cracking and popping loudly.
"What do we do with him?" Adam asked.
Conner watched the grief-stricken man sway on his knees.
"I don't know," Trevor said. "We never thought about him showing up here."
"We should run," Adam said. "He doesn't even know who we are."
The man wailed, "I'm so sorry, Papa."
Conner shook his head. "He's effing crazy."
Snatching a water bottle from the ground, the man suddenly rose to his feet. "This is what you did." He wildly shook the remnants of gasoline onto himself.
The fire lapped at his body, engulfing him in flames. Yet he didn't scream in agony. At the base of the tree, he raised his hands to the sky.
"Son of a bitch!" Adam shouted.
"Where's the flashlight?" Trevor asked.
Adam slipped it from his pocket.
"Okay. No evidence left behind. Let's get the water bottles and get the hell outta here."
The three frantically collected the bottles and then regrouped.
"That's it, right?" Trevor asked. "We got everything."
"Yeah," Conner said. "Let's go."
"Run like a mofo all the way to the car."
The three sprinted through the grass, across the clearing, and then along the path to the road. Reaching the asphalt, Conner glanced at the man burning against the trunk of the tree. Then Conner ran for the car.
Trevor grabbed their backpacks from the trunk and then jumped into the driver's seat. "We need to change our clothes."
"If someone called 911," Conner said, "we can't speed away like we're fleeing the scene of the crime. So we need to park close."
The burning flames of the tree could be seen from the car.
"Drive to the lake," Conner said. "Maybe the cabin we stayed at is empty. We can park there and change."
The cabin was occupied. Two cars were parked in the driveway. But the house next door appeared to be vacant. Once they parked, Adam muttered, "I can't believe he set himself on fire."
Thinking of the burning body at the base of the tree, Conner would have been more horrified had the man not been crazy and responsible for Jared's death.
"Get undressed," Trevor said. "Shove the black clothing in the red backpack. We'll throw it away at the rest area on the way to Newman. We'll toss the sneakers too."
The flash of police lights sped along the main road toward the Forest Lake Passway.
"Small town, fast response," Conner said. "We should wait, like, five minutes to make sure no more cops or fire trucks pass by."
"What time is it?" Adam asked.
Trevor popped open the console and handed out the phones.
"Almost three thirty," Conner said. "If we wait much longer, it'll be five o'clock by the time we get home."
"Let's get changed," Trevor said. "Then we'll hit the road."
"You okay to drive?" Conner asked. "Are you tired?"
"Are you kidding me? I'm wide awake now."
A moment passed before Adam released a loud, boisterous cackle. "Sorry. I shouldn't laugh now. But that was effing funny." He slumped on the back seat and repeated Tr
evor's energetic tone. "I'm wide awake now."
The car filled with laughter, and when their laughs had dwindled to a lingering chuckle, Conner said, "Let's get the hell outta here."
Initially, the drive home was quiet. The transient scents of gasoline and smoke lingered in the air, although Conner was certain that the fumes were stronger in recollection than actuality. The shock of the burning man had diminished as though the rough, jagged edges of the image had worn smooth by the passing of time and detachment. The more Conner watched the scenery outside the widow, the more the bright orange flames faded from his mind.
Trevor never once drove over the speed limit. At a rest area, the three sauntered to the men's room to wash up. On the way back to the car, Adam casually tossed the red backpack into a rusty dumpster.
Once they were within miles of home, Trevor said, "We're never telling anyone about tonight. Not Lou. Not Stella. Nobody."
"Of course not," Adam replied.
Conner agreed. "This is our secret to keep forever."
Their experience that night only further solidified their bond, strengthening their friendship in a way no one could understand. Still, Conner understood that no matter how well kept or infrequently thought, their secret would always linger like the light, discolored outline of a scar.
The three bumped fists. "Always and forever."
"Always and forever."
"Always and forever."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
When I was young, two horror films that freaked me out the most were Stanley Kubrick's The Shining and William Friedkin's The Exorcist. As an adult, they still freak me out. I consider both masterpieces, and I don't believe either can be duplicated or surpassed in achievement. So, I never toyed with the idea of writing my own version of either story.
Yet one night, I found myself watching Youtube "first time reaction" videos to both films. While the reaction videos were interesting and entertaining, they reminded me of why I would never attempt to write a similar novel. I could never write something that was equal to what I considered untouchable classics.
I write stories primarily about people and relationships while dealing with supernatural or other horror elements. Therefore, I recognized that I wouldn't want to write a typical possession/exorcism story anyway.
The seed of the idea for Condemned came to me once I understood that I'd much rather write about how the possession/exorcism affected the people close to the victim. Could I write a novel about possession and exorcism without having the actual possession and exorcism in the novel? I instantly thought of Conner, Adam, and Trevor. From the friendship of those three characters, the idea for Condemned blossomed into a full-fledged plot.
Most of my stories begin with an introductory scene that leads into the buildup of the plot. And my endings typically feature a bit of a character's life following the climax of the main plot. However, I liked the idea of beginning Condemned with the moment that the plot kicks into gear and then ending with the moment that the climax concludes. I know it's a bit unorthodox compared to a lot of novels. I also realize that some readers might be turned off by the sudden conclusion, but I truly believe it was the best way to end Condemned. The experience—the scar—that Conner, Adam, and Trevor share starts with the first line of the novel and ends with the last. And that's exactly how I want readers to experience the boys' story.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my wonderful editor, Angela Houston. It's always a pleasure working with you. I'm already looking forward to the next project.
Thank you, Dr. Julie Sellers for assisting with the proper Spanish and French in this novel.
A thank-you to those of who you gave me early opinions on the synopsis and cover drafts. Your feedback was very much appreciated.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In addition to being a published author, Christopher Renna is also a developmental editor with a focus on the work of young writers and indie authors. He lives in New York with his husband, two children, and their rescued dogs.
For more information, visit his site www.christopherrenna.com, or connect via social media on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
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