Her own voice—no, Samantha’s—tiny, childish, full of doubt.
The fairies will leave something for us—an acorn or something like that, so that we’ll know they used the house and want to say thank you.
And the next morning they’d gone out—still wearing their pajamas—and ran in their bare feet over the damp grass to the edge of their lawn. The lawn went right up to the woods—they didn’t have a fence, like some other people did—and they had been careful to build the fairy houses in the grass because Mom didn’t let them go into the woods alone.
Mattie remembered flattening herself against the grass—the morning damp seeping through her favorite My Little Pony pajamas—and peering inside the fairy house.
“There’s something here! Heather, look!”
Her own hand reached carefully inside to pull out a tiny, perfect pinecone.
Of course, no fairies had come. Mattie knew that now. Her mother must have gone out to the yard in the night and put the pinecone inside so that her girls could hold on to their belief a little longer, so that their world would stay dusted with magic.
Griffin and C.P.—they were like Samantha and Heather when they were small, still believing in the possibility of something, hoping for it with all their hearts.
But they think they’re going to find some benign creature, something that will wave at them while they take photos and sketches. They don’t know there’s a real monster out there.
William had been walking around the cabin stuffing objects into his pack while Mattie drifted away in her mind. She was lucky he was so preoccupied with the creature in the woods, else she surely would have been punished for woolgathering.
She squeezed the water out of William’s trousers and pinned them to the line, trying very hard not to think about the roll of money that had been in the pocket. If she thought about it, she might look at the place where she’d hidden it, and if she looked then William might wonder what she was looking at.
Keep calm, keep safe. Hide in plain sight.
Mattie noticed William stuffing some of the grenades into the backpack.
“William,” she said, very carefully, very respectfully. “If you detonate those bombs, won’t people hear and come investigate?”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The only place I’m going to use them is up in that cave.”
That got Mattie worrying about a cave-in, or a landslide. It didn’t seem like a good idea to set off a grenade in the side of a mountain.
What if Griffin and C.P. are up there and William blows them to pieces? Surely they have families that will come looking for them, and those families will find us.
(If they do then you can tell them that William killed their children and then the police will take William away and you’ll be free, free, free)
No, that was a terrible thought. Mattie didn’t want to build her freedom on the bodies of people who’d only tried to be kind to her. But she was concerned that the group would run into William while he was out hunting the creature, and that the strangers would come to harm.
If the creature hasn’t killed them already.
“I can tell you’re worrying, Mattie girl,” William said.
He stopped what he was doing and put his hand on her cheek, a gesture that nearly startled her into stepping away. William was never tender, or he hadn’t been in so long that she didn’t think he knew how to do it.
“I can see by the way your brow is furrowed,” he continued. “But I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m going to take care of that demon and keep us safe, and then I’ll come home to you just like I always do.”
Don’t come home, she thought, but she made sure that the words stayed behind her eyes, deep inside where he couldn’t see them.
“Of course,” she said, and pushed a smile out so that he would know she believed him.
“Things are going to be better for us after this,” William said. “I see that now. God sent this demon to try me, and when I defeat it, He’ll finally bless us with sons as a reward. All things are as He means them to be. And when we have sons, Mattie—when you’re finally a mother as you’re meant to be—I won’t have to punish you so often, because your heart will be content as all women’s hearts are when they fulfill their purpose.”
“Yes, William,” she said, and lowered her eyes modestly to the ground and hid the fierce and burning sickness that had suddenly bubbled up in her throat. She didn’t want his sons. The idea of being chained to him by another human being was repugnant. And she didn’t want to think about how he might raise such a son, how William might train the boy to be just the image of his father.
I must get away before he manages to get me pregnant again.
“You’re a good girl,” William said, and kissed her forehead. “I know that God will bless us soon.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to go set a few other traps in places where we saw its tracks,” he said.
“Like snares?” Mattie asked, doubtful that a feeble piece of rope could capture such a monster.
“No, I’m going to dig a few pits,” William said. “It will probably take me most of the day. I’ll do one close to the cabin, back behind the outhouse, in case it decides to come back that way. The tracks led away in that direction after it left its unholy message in the snow. After that I’ll head up the way we went yesterday and dig out another one.”
Pits, Mattie thought. Pits were dangerous to people walking in the woods, people who didn’t know that there was a madman living on the mountain trying to catch a demon.
She didn’t have any way of warning them. There was nothing she could do.
“I brought some fresh bread and cheese yesterday,” William continued. “You could have it as a treat for your lunch today.”
Mattie half-wished there’d been a monster on the mountain always, for William had probably never been so nice to her as he was today.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re always so good to me.”
“I’ll bring the food in from the storehouse and then I’ll head out,” he said, slinging his pack over his shoulder.
Mattie watched through the window as he went out to the storehouse. He unlocked the door with the key on his key ring, went inside, and emerged holding a loaf of bread and a hunk of yellow cheese wrapped in a cloth. Mattie went to the door to take the items from him so he wouldn’t have to track snow inside.
“Eat as much as you like today,” he said. “You need to get strong so my seed can take root.”
And then he went off around the back of the cabin. Mattie closed the front door, placed the food on the table and went to the back window. William took his gardening spade out of the small wooden trunk that held their tools and slung it over his shoulder. He went off behind the outhouse. Mattie wondered how far he’d go, and if it was safe to try to fiddle with the lock on his special trunk again.
She cracked the window despite the cold, in hopes that she would be able to hear William working. Sure enough, the sound of the shovel scraping through snow drifted in. He wasn’t far enough for Mattie to feel safe trying the trunk.
She placed the bread and cheese on the table.
I used to love cheese sandwiches. American cheese on white bread with yellow mustard. I wouldn’t let Mom pack anything else for me.
She had a sudden, distinct memory of unzipping a hot-pink lunchbox and inside was a cheese sandwich wrapped in waxed paper and an apple and a Twinkie.
“A Twinkie,” she murmured. “I’d forgotten about Twinkies.”
She’d forgotten about so many things, and all those forgotten moments would emerge so abruptly that it sometimes made her feel sick and dizzy, the past lying over her present like two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit together.
Mattie could almost taste the soft yellow cake with the cream in the middle, that first burst of
sweetness on her tongue. She’d take very small bites to make her dessert last for as long as possible.
William never bought sweet things. They never had a cake or a pie because Mattie didn’t have the flour or sugar to make them. She’d never asked, never thought to ask because after a while she’d forgotten about sweets, but she was sure that the reason they didn’t have dessert was because it was not godly.
The sounds of William digging nearby continued, so Mattie busied herself with various chores around the cabin. She tried not to think about the money she’d hidden beneath the couch. How long would it be before William discovered it was gone? Would he even say anything to her about it? He generally seemed to pretend that money didn’t exist, or at least that Mattie didn’t know about it.
William had told her to eat as much as she liked, and the previous day Mattie would have, but now she was so nervous about the money she’d discovered that she didn’t have much of an appetite. She forced herself to swallow a slice each of the bread and cheese, because he would be upset if she didn’t eat when he told her to do so.
After a while the sounds of William’s shoveling ceased. Mattie wondered if he’d moved on to another location yet, and if so, how far he’d gone. It wasn’t safe for her to try to open the trunk if he was on his way back for lunch or to take a nap. He might have changed his mind altogether and decided not to dig the second pit today.
He didn’t tell me not to go anywhere. He didn’t say I shouldn’t leave the cabin.
(It’s implied, though. You know it’s implied. You’re not supposed to leave when William isn’t at home.)
She could make him a cheese sandwich and wrap it in a cloth and go out to the place where he’d just been digging, and if he was resting there she could say that she thought he might be hungry from his work. Surely he couldn’t be angry with her then. She was only trying to be a good wife, to look after her husband as she was supposed to do.
Mattie sliced off two thick pieces of bread and several slim pieces of cheese. William usually preferred sandwiches with meat in them, but any meat they had was in the storehouse and the storehouse was locked.
No it isn’t.
Mattie’s hands stilled. She’d watched William unlock the storehouse that morning and emerge holding the bread and cheese. She hadn’t seen him lock it back up again.
I could get some food and hide it somewhere for the night I escape.
But where could she hide it? It would have to be somewhere outside, where it could stay cold. She couldn’t put food underneath the couch. And it would have to be something she could eat without cooking—slices of ham and cheese and bread. It wouldn’t do her any good to hide a hunk of venison. That kind of food would only attract a bear, anyway—a real bear, not the thing in the woods that was pretending to be a bear.
Pretending to be a bear. Is that what the thing is doing? Is it copying other animals it has seen?
That didn’t make any sense at all. Why would a creature copy animal behavior?
“And where did it come from, anyway? It wasn’t on this mountain with us all along. We would have known.”
Griffin and C.P. said they were on the mountain because of a “sighting.” Who had seen the creature besides Mattie and William? The animal must have migrated from somewhere nearby, and Griffin and C.P. had followed its trail somehow.
She tried to think about what all of this information meant, but she couldn’t pull it together. Anyway, it wasn’t time for her to worry about the creature or the strangers on the mountain. She wanted to leave William. She had to have a concrete plan.
Chance had given her that roll of money, which would help her when she reached a town. William’s own preoccupation with the animal he called a demon had given her a second opportunity—to take food out of the storehouse and hide it away for the day she escaped.
She wanted to rush out to the storehouse right away, but she needed to think this through. First, she should continue with the plan to bring William a sandwich. Whether she was opening the storehouse or opening the trunk, she still needed to be certain that he was gone from the immediate area.
It had taken him at least two hours to dig the nearby pit, so if he’d moved on she would have at least that long to make her preparations. Mattie finished assembling the sandwich, wrapped it in a clean white cloth and tied a knot in the top. Then she pulled on her coat and wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck. Before she went out she made certain to close the cracked-open window, because even the small amount of cold air coming in had chilled the cabin. If William found the window open he would be annoyed, especially since he’d built up the fire and left enough wood for the cabin to stay warm while he was gone.
Mattie put on her boots and stepped outside the cabin. As she pulled the cabin door closed she noticed her hands were trembling. She’d never defied William so openly before.
You can’t be afraid. You have to be brave, or at least try. William’s in such a good mood today that he’s unlikely to punish you if he finds you outside.
But finding her out of the cabin might cause his mood to change. And she knew his mood could change without warning, could flare up like a summer storm.
You’re only taking him a sandwich. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not yet, anyway. If he finds you in the storehouse . . .
Mattie would have to come up with some excuse for the storehouse. She could say she wanted to make him a special dinner. As long as she was behaving like a good wife then it would be all right.
And what if it isn’t? What if he beats you so badly that you can’t walk or run?
“Then I’ll have to get better, and try again,” she whispered. “I have to try.”
She followed the path of William’s footsteps in the snow, past the garden, past the outhouse and on. There was a little clearing after the outhouse, the fresh snow broken only by her husband’s boots. Mattie continued in his steps until she reached the cool dark of the pines.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust, especially the left one, which still wasn’t focusing as quickly as her right. She could still see William’s trail in the snow. A little farther ahead she discovered the pit.
He’d chosen a place where there was already a depression in the ground—Mattie could see the shape of it in front of and behind the pit. Then he’d dug through the layer of snow and into the hard earth to make a hole about five feet long and the same distance deep.
Mattie knew that the creature was much, much larger than this tiny pit, and she wondered how William expected to catch it. Perhaps he only wanted it to stumble, to break a limb. She supposed that the pit was close enough to the cabin that William could run out and shoot the creature if he heard it fall in.
The dirt from the pit had been spread all over the path, covering the snow. Mattie thought this was to obscure the pit at night, when the snow seemed to glow white. If there were several feet of dark earth before the creature reached the hole then it was more likely to fall in.
She supposed that he might put some meat out to lure it, and then would cover the hole with pine boughs or some such thing. It seemed very cruel to her, almost as cruel as the shiny silver trap with its snapping mouth. Both were meant to hurt, to cause suffering before death. Mattie was afraid of the creature in the woods but she didn’t think it should suffer. She didn’t think they ought to be bothering with it at all, really. It had warned them and they should take that warning seriously.
It was clear that William had moved on from this area. She should go back and investigate the storehouse while she had the opportunity.
But what if he’s only gone a little way farther? You’d better be certain.
She would walk only a little bit more, just to be sure that William wasn’t just around the bend of the path. She knew she only had a short amount of time and she needed to use it.
Mattie followed the trail William had broken in the snow, t
he cloth-wrapped sandwich gripped tight in her hand. She didn’t see any sign of him except his footprints, and after about a quarter of an hour she decided it was safe and she could turn around.
That was when she heard the voices.
CHAPTER NINE
It wasn’t just voices. It was men shouting—no, William shouting, and two others speaking loudly, but not as loudly as William.
Griffin and C.P. Oh god, what are they doing so close to the cabin? Didn’t I warn them? Didn’t I tell them they needed to go far from here?
Mattie didn’t want William to see her, so she stepped off the path and into the cover of trees, moving slowly and carefully between the trunks until she was close enough to see. She was just behind the group, with William’s back to her and the strangers’ faces visible.
William stood in the center of the path, the shovel in his hands, and it was clear from his posture that he might swing it at one of the other men any moment now.
Griffin and C.P. stood side by side, and at C.P.’s shoulder was a woman nearly as tall as he was. She had long black hair spilling out of a red cap and her lips were pressed together so tightly that they were practically white.
That’s Jen, Mattie thought. Their friend. The one they were going to meet.
“I’m saying it for the last time. You get off this mountain if you know what’s good for you,” William said.
Griffin had his hands up in a placatory manner, but his eyes and voice were hard. “And I’m telling you that you have no right to drive us off. This is public land. Your land ends back there. We saw the signs. You don’t have the right to dig like this out here. It’s dangerous for anyone passing through.”
“I have the right to do whatever I want. This is my mountain, and God has given me a mission,” William said.
Mattie saw Jen and C.P. glance at one another, their eyes saying that William was a crazy person.
C.P. gave Griffin’s arm a little tug. “Maybe we should just go.”
“No,” Griffin said. “He doesn’t have the right to send us off. He doesn’t have the right to do any of this. And when we get back down to where there’s cell service, I’m going to report him. Someone ought to report him for what he’s done to that girl he calls his wife, anyway.”
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