Evening in the Yellow Wood

by Laura Kemp

  “I know Johnson and his ma wanted you to marry her.”

  He stopped, looked at me and for an instant, I saw the man he had once been—proud and simple and unable to understand why she had chosen Butler over him.

  “Johnny was a fool and his ma not far behind.”

  I reached for the doorknob, which was ready to come away with my hand, and looked into his black eyes. “But it must have been painful for you to lose her, after everything with Cal.”

  He grunted again, blew a breath out. “I stood by her all right. Took her side when folks called her a whore for havin’ that boy outta wedlock. An’ me a preacher, ready to give her my last name.”

  I turned the knob, felt the door give way and shifted my weight away from him.

  “An’ what does she do but spit on it like it wasn’t no better than those fleas what lived on her Injun.”

  “So, you had reason to hate him, to kill him—”

  Red Rover turned, his eyes on me again and I did not see Henry Younts, only the wicked creature Butler’s bad medicine had created. “Reason enough to bury him where he’ll never be found.”

  The next second the door gave way and I moved, striking him in the jaw as he lost his grip on the gun. Next up was his big toe and I stomped on it, felt his bones crunch as I dove for the medicine bag.

  “Bitch!” I heard him curse as he caught a fistful of hair. Slamming my head against the doorjamb, I saw stars.

  Twisting in his grasp, I brought my good knee into his groin as he pulled, taking a clot of blonde hair with him but releasing the rest of me.

  The next second, I was scrambling for the second floor while shoving the gun into the waistband of my shorts, the medicine bag in my hand. A quick glance behind told me he had no intention of following but seemed content to wait at the bottom of the staircase, his voice rising upwards like a death knell.

  “That smarted a bit, Muffet. You’ve got a mean right hook.”

  “I appreciate that, Mr. Younts.”

  “That gun ain’t gonna do you no good so why don’t you jest come back down.”

  “Why don’t you come up?”

  “Mayhap I will. Take the sass outta ya.” One step followed by another followed by a creak that told me he’d reached the seventh step, and I scampered for the southernmost bedroom, ran to the window and looked out at the oak ablaze in the morning sun—a red bird in its branches.

  A place that doesn’t die…

  And I realized that the same thing that had kept the tree frozen in time had also been keeping Jonas and his father alive.

  I remembered my dream, how my fingertips had bled while I dug beneath the tree for something I couldn’t name.

  The snakeskin.

  And I had a pretty good idea who had hidden it here.

  I felt a weight lifted and began to search the room for anything that might give me an advantage and realized the only way out was down.

  “I’m comin’, Muffet,” he called, at the top of the stairs now. “An’ when I ketch you, Law Dog ain’t gonna like what he sees.”

  I gripped the frame, swung my legs out, and dropped onto the roof. Still, the ground was a good twelve feet below and a broken leg wasn’t something I could afford with a lunatic on my tail.

  I dashed to the edge, felt his presence behind me, and didn’t look back. I jumped, my cell phone taking flight, my body curling into a position I’d seen Joey nail a hundred times. I landed with a roll, my legs folding beneath me and still my knee held out without the brace to support it.

  Looking up, I saw Red Rover at the window, watching. The next instant, he disappeared, and I got to my feet, racing for the tree and the spot I remembered from my dream. Moments later I was on my hands and knees, digging as fast as I could.

  I felt my hands burning, my fingers catch fire as blood appeared on the tips and still I glanced behind, ready to shoot with the useless gun if he dared to show his face.

  But he didn’t.

  A few seconds later I came upon a small piece of burlap. Snatching it to my chest, I stood up and limped across the lavender field and towards the forest.

  Once inside the tree line, I looked back at the house. All was silent, still—like a picture my father may have painted.

  I wondered where Henry Younts was and why he was waiting now that I had everything he had ever wanted in my hands.

  I stood for a moment, then took a step deeper into the forest. Another step and I remembered the clearing from my dream—the temperate valley that smelled of pine and springtime. It was there, I knew it—just beyond where the red bird had perched in the high branch of a maple tree while Dylan and I made love below.

  I moved again, one hand on the barrel of the 9mm. I could only remember shooting a gun once before when Brad had insisted I go to the range with him. He wanted me to be prepared in case a weirdo tried to rape me in the newspaper parking lot—never stopping to consider that weirdo might be him.

  I remembered the sequence: pull back the slide, load the chamber, safety off, and squeeze the trigger. Brad had taught me never to close both eyes when I looked through the sights. My peripheral vision was an edge, he said, and that’s where the weirdos always came from. Even though it had made me dizzy, I shot that day with both eyes open, my elbows bent to absorb the kick, and I’d hit my mark.

  I could do it again.

  Moving on through the woods, I saw the river to the west and followed its progress, watching for the bird as it swooped in front of me, Odessa’s words reminding me to rely on more than just my eyes.

  I made my way towards Ocqueoc Falls as the light withered and still I felt like I was ahead of Red Rover.

  Until I saw Karen.

  I stopped, unable to believe what I was seeing.

  She stood in the forest in the clothes she had died in, khaki pants and a white top smeared with blood. The left side of her face had been crushed, but not enough to dull our resemblance.

  HE SENT HER HERE TO MESS WITH YOUR HEAD

  I took a step backwards, my legs wet noodles.

  HE’S DOING A DAMN GOOD JOB

  Karen came closer and I noticed how her good eye watched me like a lioness stalking a gazelle. I saw her slender fingers clench and unclench, dark liquid staining her knuckles, oozing between them as though she’d been picking blackberries.

  I pulled the gun from the waistband of my jeans and flipped off the safety.

  “Get out of here,” I ordered, the feel of the gun empowering.

  SHE’S NOT REAL

  I wanted to tell him to shut up because from where I stood, she looked pretty fucking real.

  “Give the medicine bag to me,” she reached out that stained hand, smiled, and I fought the insane urge to drop the deerskin pouch and run like hell.

  Instead, I put my finger on the trigger and said, “Come and get it.”

  She smiled again, worse than any ghoul from my nightmares, and lunged at me.

  I squeezed off a shot that hit her in the shoulder, propelling her sideways but not dropping her. Another shot found her neck, the flesh exploding in a spray of red mush.

  And still, she staggered forward.

  I knew I had about eight rounds left and aimed for her kneecaps.

  The first one missed her altogether. The second hit her just below the thigh as she came closer, her fingers reaching for me as I stumbled backwards—falling.

  I cursed, trying to get my bearings when I heard a loud bark. Looking up, I caught sight of a black lab zipping through the trees in a mad beeline for what appeared to be me.

  “Rocky!” I screeched as she lunged again, the smell of putrefaction making me retch, her black fingers finding my ankle and twisting.

  Seconds later the dog leapt into the air and came down with her neck in its mouth, tearing at flesh and bone, breaking her arms into little pieces. I looked away, not wanting to see what would happen to that decaying body.

  But Adam was right. She wasn’t real, and before I knew it Rocky was tearing at
dirt and air instead of her, until what was left of Karen disintegrated like ash in the wind before vanishing altogether.

  I sat watching, my breath coming in terrible pants before sliding the gun back into my waistband.

  “Shit,” I ran the back of my hand over my mouth and started to shake.

  I was in disbelief one minute, sobbing the next, the medicine bag still in my hand. Seconds later I took hold of Rocky’s fur and buried my head in the softness.

  “Good boy,” I whispered, and moments later felt his head on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  The forest seemed to breathe with me and then I heard it.

  SAME HERE

  I opened my eyes and saw Adam standing beside us.

  “How did you get here?” I asked, forgetting for the moment that he wouldn’t answer in a typical way.

  I FOLLOWED THE DOG

  “But Red Rover killed him in the woods,” I touched Rocky again, unable to believe he’d survived, speaking aloud to my brother for the first time. And it felt so good to not have to hide it anymore.

  ROCKY SAYS YOU SHOULD HAVE MORE FAITH IN HIM

  “Rocky says—” I began, struggling to my feet. “Should I even ask?”

  WE ALL HAVE OUR GIFTS

  “And one of yours is talking to animals?”

  ROCKY ISN’T JUST ANY ANIMAL. HE’S MY PROTECTOR. LIKE DYLAN IS TO YOU.

  Like Dylan… I knew I couldn’t let my thoughts linger on him or I would lose all the courage I’d gathered in the last half hour. And still I wondered if he had been able to trace the phone to the farmhouse and if he was on his way here because sooner or later I was going to have to cut myself.

  “So, what happens next?” I asked, my eyes scanning the woods for Henry Younts, Dylan, Jamie Stoddard, Esther, the red bird…anything.

  WE NEED TO GET TO THE FALLS

  “Where Butler performed the first ritual?” I asked, “I saw it in a dream. It’s an island—”

  I KNOW WHERE IT IS

  I reached for my brother, pulling him along as Rocky circled behind, looking for Henry Younts. And I was glad he was.

  “I’m scared, Adam,” I said, “What if—

  WE CAN DO THIS

  I looked down at him, his dark curls just reaching my shoulder, and ruffled the top of his head.

  “You’re something, you know that?”

  YOU SHOULD TALK

  I just managed to smile as we passed the trailhead for Ocqueoc Falls. Stopping, I bent a branch backwards, one I seemed to remember swiping Dylan in the face the night before, hoping it would help him find us. The next minute we were running down the path, the next minute veering off into the wilderness until we came to the place in my dream—a small island in the middle of a marsh.

  I stopped, wondering how we were going to get to it and when we did if it would support our weight or sink to the bottom of the river.

  One jump told me Adam was into the quick and easy route, and so I followed, my toes just reaching the spongy edge.

  Once on solid ground, I opened my mind to my brother’s and saw what was waiting inside, what my father had given him when he couldn’t do anything else. I took out the medicine bag and used my finger to draw the wheel with four spokes, the same mark Dylan had between his shoulder blades, then sat back on my haunches and watched my brother as he gathered wet earth with his hands.

  PUT THE TOTEMS INSIDE

  I reached for the bag, drew out the antler, jawbone, shell, and feather. Placing one inside each quadrant, I saved the snakeskin for last, carefully pushing it into the hub with the tip of my finger.

  NOW FOR THE FIRE

  I watched him gather more mud, work it with his hands again in a way that seemed karmic, and after some time had passed I saw the mass begin to glow, spark, and catch fire until Adam’s hands were nothing but a ball of flames.

  And while I should have screamed or carried on or thrown a bucket of water on him I had to admit I’d seen stranger things in the last twenty minutes and so sat back and waited while he set fire to the wheel I’d drawn.

  “How long will it burn?” I asked, the totems inside beginning to wither and curl as his own hands rematerialized without so much as a blister.

  UNTIL YOU PUT IT OUT

  I looked towards the trail, the realization stealing my air and all the while I thought of Dylan, wondering if he would get here in time or if we should wait.

  But there was no time. My whole life had been leading up to this moment and I had to believe that the powers that had entrusted me with the gift would also lead Dylan where he needed to go.

  YOU NEED TO USE THIS

  I watched as Adam reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a hunting knife with a white bone handle—something I would have admired under different circumstances.

  “Did this belong to Butler?”

  Adam nodded, his face pinched and I knew he was wondering the same thing I was.

  WHERE IS HE?

  “He’s coming.”

  WE CAN’T START WITHOUT HIM

  “We have to,” I glanced towards the forest. “Red Rover’s coming.”

  I CAN’T STOP IT. YOU’LL BLEED TO DEATH.

  “He’ll be here!”

  Adam sat back, watching the flames and I closed my eyes, willing Dylan to find me as I drew the blade across my left wrist.

  Pain—at once sharp and aching spread up to my elbow and I bit my lip to stifle my screams. I dropped the knife as the blood came quickly, running down my palm and to the end of my fingertips where it met the hungry fire.

  WE NEED MORE

  I didn’t understand at first, not until I saw him pick up the knife and take my right wrist in his hand. He hesitated, his face a mixture of terror and resignation.

  “Do it,” I whispered, already feeling weak. “I can’t.”

  He drew the blade quickly and this time I couldn’t stop the screams that radiated through the forest, alerting Red Rover to our location.

  FOLLOW THE FIRE

  I did as he told me, and as I followed the outline the flames began to sputter and die, my blood killing what water should have.

  STAY WITH IT

  I heard him but couldn’t answer because the blood was coming faster, rolling off the edge of my fingernails and down past my elbows and filling up my ears and twisting my stomach and I knew—

  “Justine!”

  I looked up, saw Dylan running through the woods as fast as his bad ankle would carry him and almost forgot what I was doing. I tried to stand, my pulse pounding in my arms as Red Rover stepped from his hiding place and into Dylan’s path.

  I opened my mouth, tried to scream, and found I was too weak.

  HELP HIM, ADAM!

  One nod and Rocky was off, charging his old nemesis as he jumped at his throat, his teeth sinking into meaty flesh. I heard the preacher howl, heard him curse as he tried to get hold of the dog with his enormous hands. Three wild grasps and he had Rocky by the head, flinging him into the underbrush while turning his attention to Dylan, who had just reached the water’s edge.

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Law Dog,” he growled, pieces of flesh hanging where his chin had once been. One lunge and he knocked Dylan to the ground. I saw him rip at the necklace, tearing the talisman off while throwing it into the underbrush.

  He was right about getting stronger, and now Dylan didn’t stand a chance.

  I was beginning to see spots, my skin chilled as I slid into a seated position, Adam supporting me, holding me—a quarter of the circle still burning.

  FINISH IT

  The next second Dylan had broken free and was struggling to his feet. He swung at Red Rover, his fist connecting with the latter’s gut in a way that seemed as useless as the gun I’d thrown aside.

  And then I began to pray—something I hadn’t done since the day Mom had handed me that piece of paper over the front seat of our brown Pontiac.

  I prayed for Dylan to live, for Red Rover to lose his grip and sink
into the earth, for my blood to put out the fire. I prayed that Iris and I would share another glass of lemonade and that Mom would someday teach my daughter the difference between a Black-Eyed Susan and a Coneflower.

  I prayed that Pam would be able to sleep at night and that my brother would grow into a strong young man who would come over to my house for afternoon barbecues.

  I prayed that I would live to see a second spring come to this forest. That I would dream every night of Dad and his silver canoe.

  I prayed all these things in my brother’s arms, my blood flowing down my hands when a sound startled me. Footsteps—measured and deliberate—made me turn as a third figure emerged from the woods and took hold of Red Rover by the scruff of the neck.

  It only took a moment for Dylan to get free—and when he did he wasted no time.

  “It’s over, Pa,” I heard the familiar voice through my stupor and fought to continue, the circle extinguished as I moved to the hub.

  “After all I done for you?” Henry spat at his son and I crawled on, Adam at my side, the earth rocking up to cradle me. “This is how you pay me back?”

  “I never wanted any of this,” Jamie Stoddard spoke, his form and face reminding me of an angel in these last moments as Dylan jumped the water. “I only wanted Esther.”

  “Too late for that,” his father said, and I wondered if it was ever too late for anything.

  And then Dylan was there, shoving Adam aside as he scooped me into his arms.

  “Stay with me,” his words were firm. “I’ll get you through this.”

  I smiled, very calm. Very cold. “I trust you.”

  He put pressure on my wrists and at first, it felt lovely, warm and exhilarating. I smiled again, turned my face into his chest and let his heartbeat lull me to sleep. Because that was all I wanted.

  “Look at me,” Dylan ordered, his tone losing some of its strength, its certainty. “Open your eyes.”

  I wanted to, but the blood was still coming and his fingers were starting to slide as he fought for a grip, fought for us and I knew he would have to take it from here. That I would have to let him.

  “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his face close to my ear and I couldn’t make my mouth open, couldn’t reassure him in the tiniest bit as he rocked me, whispering the words I’d been waiting for.