Near the Bone

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Near the Bone Page 19

by Christina Henry


  “Martha!” William barked. “You do what I say now, girl, or it will be the worse for you later.”

  “Don’t answer him,” Jen whispered.

  “I know you’re in there fornicating with those men. You’re a sinner, Martha, and it is the duty of a husband to discipline his wife and save her soul for heaven,” William said.

  Mattie would have laughed if she hadn’t been so terrified. William still thought she was having affairs with strange men? When was she supposed to be doing that—before or after she’d trekked through the woods in the night, certain that at any moment the creature would appear out of the trees and snatch her away like it did Griffin?

  “You can’t hide forever. When you open that door, I’ll be here, Martha. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  She heard the rustling of clothes, saw the door shift again. William must have sat down on the porch in front of the door.

  “No,” she moaned. What were they going to do now? They couldn’t escape with William right there. There was hardly any food in the cabin because William hid it all from her in the storehouse. And Jen could barely walk, so even if they managed to get past William, they would be unable to run if he chased them.

  Why had she thought she could get away from him? She should just give herself up now, hope that she could bargain for Jen and C.P.’s safety. Surely William would let the other two go as long as he had her. Surely they would be safe.

  Don’t be stupid. He can’t let them go. They know what he did to you. They know he kidnapped you. They heard him say he killed your mother. He can’t risk them leaving, telling the police, bringing them back here to arrest him.

  This was Samantha again, bossy Samantha who always made Mattie feel slightly stupid.

  Then what am I to do? She heard the plaintiveness in her own thoughts, could feel defeat slumping her shoulders, rounding her back.

  Stop letting him grind you up under his heel, Samantha said. There has to be a way if you’d only think.

  Mattie felt the wall of the cabin press against her back. She’d retreated from the door as she thought (no, you weren’t thinking, you were panicking), her body moving as far from William as possible.

  “Now what?” C.P. whispered.

  He couldn’t sit there by the door. Anything could happen to him there. Mattie felt sure that William would find some way to reach through the door and hurt him—break it down with the axe, or shoot him right through the wood.

  “Come . . . here,” she said, beckoning him toward her.

  He carefully levered his body out of the chair, trying to make as little noise as possible, and started toward Mattie.

  Jen had stopped moving around on the floor. Mattie turned the flashlight toward her and saw she was completely still, her eyes closed.

  “Shit,” C.P. said. “I think she’s passed out.”

  He knelt beside her and felt for her pulse, then put his hand on her forehead.

  “She’s still alive, but she feels like ice. She’s probably in shock or something. Let’s put a blanket on her.”

  Mattie dragged one of the handmade blankets off the couch and covered Jen with it. Jen was so still and cold that Mattie felt certain they were covering a corpse.

  “Probably we should disinfect her cuts,” C.P. said. “But we can’t clean them unless we cut her pant leg off, and I don’t want to move her around now. So, what are we going to do?”

  He was staring at her so expectantly. He seemed to think she had answers. Did he know that she didn’t know anything, that she was hoping he would have ideas? Didn’t he know that her whole world had been in this room for twelve years?

  Stop. Panicking. Stop right now.

  It was so easy to say this but so hard to do. She’d spent more of her life afraid than not.

  Mattie swallowed hard, because it was still difficult for her to talk. “Can’t . . . leave . . . with . . . William . . .”

  “With that guy out there. Yeah, I figured that much out.” He spoke in a low whisper, his shoulders rounded and his head bent so the words stayed in the space between the two of them. It felt uncomfortably intimate, but since Mattie was already pressed up against the wall there was nowhere she could go to make space for herself. “So what are we going to do about it? Is there a gun in here that we can use?”

  William had two rifles—the deer rifle and the large one he’d just acquired to kill the giant creature in the woods. It was probable that the deer rifle was still in the cabin, leaning next to the wall on William’s side of the bed. It was so much a part of the furniture that Mattie never really thought about it. And she only remembered seeing him take the larger rifle that morning, though she supposed he might have returned to the cabin for more firepower after the events of the day.

  “Maybe,” Mattie said, and started toward the bedroom. Her boot heels rang out on the floor even though she was trying to be quiet.

  Mattie paused. She didn’t want William to know what she was doing, or where she was moving to in the cabin. She was certain he was listening hard at the door for any sounds that might indicate what they were doing, and that he was calculating how he might take advantage.

  She handed the flashlight back to C.P. and crouched down to take her boots off.

  “You’re worried about the floors?” C.P. said. “I don’t think the finish is a priority, you know.”

  Mattie frowned up at him. “Noisy.”

  “Right,” he said. “Sorry. I’m just really wound up, I guess. First Griffin is taken and then Jen got caught in the trap and now we’re stuck in this place with a psycho outside. I don’t know how we’re going to get to Griffin or what kind of state he’ll be in when we find him.”

  Mattie didn’t say anything. She was certain that Griffin was dead now, or would be soon, and that as soon as they broke out of the cabin they should head down the mountain with all possible speed. But she didn’t want to explain this to C.P. while her bruised throat made it difficult to talk. He seemed to be depending on the idea that they would find Griffin alive.

  He’s like a child, Mattie thought as she slid out of her boots and moved silently toward the bedroom. He thinks there should be a happy ending just because he believes in one.

  Mattie didn’t believe in happy endings. She didn’t even believe in happy middles. It was only at that beginning part of the story, when you were young and didn’t know any better, that you could be happy and carefree. Once life piled up on you, happiness was impossible.

  If she managed to escape William, she didn’t think all her problems would magically be solved. His shadow would chase her for the rest of her life, and she hated him for that, hated that her mind would never be completely easy, that she’d always be looking over her shoulder for a monster.

  Mattie paused in the doorway between the bedroom and the main room of the cabin. The window curtains were open here, allowing the moonlight in. The bed loomed in the middle of the room, a haunted place made of her pain.

  A man’s got to have sons, Mattie.

  She shook her head from side to side, shook away the ghosts that circled there. They needed the rifle, William’s rifle, and it was right where he’d left it, leaning against the wall on his side of the bed.

  C.P. directed the flashlight over Mattie’s shoulder and it caught the gleam of the rifle barrel. “Score!”

  She scurried into the room, her heart galloping. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close. He needed to stop standing so close to her. Every time C.P. came near she thought of William, thought of William’s hands closing around her neck, William’s fists breaking her flesh, William’s body pressing down into hers.

  He’s not William, she told herself. He won’t hurt you.

  She needed to close the curtains. She needed to do that in case William snuck around the outside of the cabin and tried to peer inside. But if she closed the curtains then
she would be alone in this room, in the dark, with a strange man.

  He won’t hurt you. Stop being such a little mouse. Samantha again. Mattie wanted to tell Samantha that if she had so much to say then maybe she should drive instead of leaving all the work up to Mattie.

  Mattie forced herself to go to the window and close the curtains. The moonlight disappeared but it didn’t really matter because C.P. had the flashlight, and of course he wasn’t waiting to menace her. He was picking up the rifle and examining it with the light.

  “It’s loaded,” he said. “Where’s the extra ammo?”

  Mattie went to the top drawer of William’s dresser. This was a small piece, only three drawers, and she was never allowed to open the top. She was, however, supposed to place his clean and mended clothes neatly in the other two drawers. He liked his shirts folded a particular way. It had taken Mattie a long time to learn how to do it right.

  C.P. followed her, the flashlight beam bouncing, and Mattie pulled open the top drawer. There were boxes of ammunition there, and several hunting knives of various sizes, and the extra grenades that William hadn’t put in his pack that morning.

  “Holy hell,” C.P. said. “Grenades? What is he going to use them for?”

  “The . . . creature,” Mattie said. “He . . . thinks . . . it’s . . . a . . . demon.”

  “For real? Like he really thinks that thing is an actual demon in the woods?”

  Mattie nodded. Their faces were just barely illuminated by the circle of light from the flashlight.

  “And he’s what, exactly? Some kind of holy warrior out to smite it?”

  “Yes,” Mattie said.

  “This is getting more fucked up by the second,” he said. He grabbed several boxes of ammunition and stuffed them in his jacket pockets.

  “Do . . . you . . . know . . . how?” Mattie asked, indicating the rifle.

  “Yeah, I’ve been target shooting since I was pretty young. My dad loves it so he taught me.”

  Now they had a gun, and someone who knew how to use it. But Mattie still wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of the cabin. William had positioned himself right by the door. If they opened it he could just pick them off one by one as they went through. Even if he didn’t manage to hit any of them—an unlikely prospect, given that William was a seasoned marksman—then he would just follow after them.

  And they had Jen, who was now unconscious. Griffin had also been unconscious, and C.P. and Jen had barely managed to drag him along. Mattie was much shorter than Jen. She couldn’t imagine supporting the taller woman, even with C.P.’s help. And William would easily catch up to them.

  Unless we kill him. The only way to make him stop coming after us is to kill him.

  But she wouldn’t be the one to do that. She didn’t know how to use the rifle. C.P. would have to kill him. Could she ask this stranger to take on that burden?

  Mattie rubbed her head. Every decision seemed so full of consequences that would lead to more troubles. She felt a sudden surge of anger at Griffin and C.P. Why hadn’t they left the mountain when she told them to? Why hadn’t they listened? If they had listened then none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t be burdened with the responsibility of their lives as well as her own.

  I can barely take care of myself. How can I save them, too?

  She swayed on her feet, suddenly lightheaded. She needed to rest. Her body was shutting down, defending itself.

  “Hey,” C.P. said, putting his hand on her shoulder so she wouldn’t tip over.

  Mattie knew he was only trying to help. She knew it, but she couldn’t help wriggling away when he touched her. She couldn’t help thinking of William, who would pretend to be kind and then hurt her in the next moment.

  “I was just trying to help. You looked like a bowling pin about to fall,” C.P. said, and his irritation was clear in his voice.

  Mattie shifted a few extra inches away from him. She didn’t want to be within arm’s reach, although she didn’t know where she could run to inside the cabin. He had the gun, too.

  What have I done? William is outside with a gun and the only other man is inside with a gun and I have nothing, nothing to keep them from me if they want to hurt me.

  She took a deep breath, because panic was bubbling up again and there was no value to it. C.P. wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t hit her. He had no reason to. They were in this together. They had to find a way to get past William, and safely get all three of them down to the village.

  Four. He’ll never leave without Griffin.

  “I’m going to check on Jen,” C.P. said when Mattie didn’t respond. He left the bedroom in a huff, taking the flashlight with him, leaving her standing in the darkness.

  There was a tap at the bedroom window.

  Mattie spun around, staring at the curtains she’d pulled closed. William was there. William was on the other side of the glass. If she opened the curtains he would be there, waving at her, asking her to open the window.

  Just like he did before.

  * * *

  • • •

  William waved at her and she got out of bed and pulled open the glass even though it was the middle of the night. She had to stand on her desk chair to push the window up because she was so small.

  He told her to stay in the bedroom, that he had a surprise for Mom. So she’d gotten back into bed because her feet were cold and she’d pulled up the covers to her chin and waited to hear her mother’s cries of happiness when she saw whatever surprise William had for her, but then she was curious about the surprise.

  “I want to see,” she said and hopped out of bed and put on her slippers and tiptoed toward her mother’s room. The light was off but her eyes were adjusted to the dark and she could see that the door was partway open.

  She didn’t hear any voices but she did hear strange sounds, grunts and harsh breaths and then a wet squelchy noise. The last sound made her feel funny in her stomach, sort of sick and scared, and she wanted her mom then, wanted to run and jump into Mom’s bed and feel her mother’s arms around her.

  She pushed the door open and the first thing she saw was William silhouetted against the faint light coming in through the window, and there was something in his hand, something that looked like a knife but it couldn’t be a knife, why would he have a knife?

  Then the smell hit her and she gagged. It smelled like the bathroom, like poop and pee and also something else, something metallic that left a faint film of sick on her tongue.

  “Sam,” William said, and his voice was very steady and very cold, like a frozen river in winter. She’d never heard his voice like that before. “Go back to your room. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Mom?” Samantha said. “Mom, can I come in bed with you? I’m scared.”

  “You can’t get in bed with her right now,” William said. “Go back to your room.”

  “Mom?” Samantha said, and she went toward the bed even though she was sick and terrified, even though William had told her twice to leave.

  She saw her mother’s profile just for a moment, very still, then William came around the bed in a few strides, tucking away the thing he could not possibly have into his belt. He scooped Samantha up into his arms. She’d always liked to be held by William, because he was big and tall and she was so small, but now he didn’t feel safe and she tried to wriggle away. His arms were hard as iron and his voice was the same way when he said, “Stop trying to get away, Samantha,” but she couldn’t stop because Mom was so still and she hadn’t answered when Samantha called and Mom always answered, she’d never ignore Samantha when she was scared.

  “I said stop,” he said again. “You will listen and do as I say from now on. You belong to me now.”

  “No,” she said. “I want Mom.”

  He put his hand over her mouth and there was something sticky on his fingers, somethi
ng that smelled like metal. “Your mother has decided that I’m to take care of you now. We’re going away. You will listen to me and obey and if you do that you’ll be the happiest little girl in the world. If you don’t then . . .”

  He trailed off. Samantha didn’t know what might happen to her if she didn’t listen to William, couldn’t begin to imagine it. She only knew that she didn’t want to go with him. She wanted to stay with Mom and Heather. She squirmed again, trying to escape his grip, and he sighed.

  * * *

  • • •

  The tapping sounded at the window again, firm, insistent. She wasn’t there, on the stairs with William. She was in the cabin, and William wanted Mattie to open the window.

  He wanted her to open the window like she had before and he was sure, he was certain that she would because Mattie always listened to him, Mattie always obeyed. She’d opened the window for him in the first place.

  The bedroom window was the only one large enough for William to fit through, she realized. The two windows in the main room were small, too small for his shoulders, but the bedroom window was larger. He could climb through there. He could reach her again, punch her in the face, throw her to the floor, remind her that her duty was to make sons for him.

  Tap tap tap

  He was so sure, so certain.

  Mattie’s feet moved toward the window.

  The creature roared out in the night, so close that it could have been in the cabin with them.

  Then the screaming started.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Griffin,” C.P. said from the other room.

  Mattie heard him run across the wood floor, heard the front curtains swish open. She hurried into the main room and nearly tripped over Jen, who was lying in the middle of the floor, still as death.

  “Get . . . away . . . from . . . window,” Mattie wheezed out.

  The creature roared again, and the person outside was screaming, screaming long horrible cries of pain that seemed to push inside her ears and press against her eyeballs and stop up her throat.

 

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