Clawing Free

by Josh Roberts

  As she drew nearer, she realized it was actually a large group of birds. There were at least thirty of the creepy things, wet and shining as they moved around something in the grass at the edge of the lake. Lissy was rattled by the way they focused on whatever they’d gathered around. They would hop, glance around with sharp, jerky movements, and then stab their heads back down toward their prey.

  The stench in the air was unmistakable now. No doubt it had been what drew the birds in the first place. They were in a pecking frenzy, bobbing and darting around as if mad with hunger.

  Her throat tightened. She knew she should leave, but she was overwhelmed with a sense of interest. No, not interest, it was deeper than that. Lissy felt she had no say in the matter. She had to see what these animals were digging at. The urge emanated from deep within, a primal instinct that refused any attempt at denial.

  She edged toward the dark flock, identifying them as Common Ravens. The recognition made the moment feel that much more ominous. Ravens were disgusting creatures that preyed on the rotting corpses.

  The smell was unbearable as she came up on the swarm. She covered her mouth and nose with her arm, trying not to breathe it in. Her eyes were burning, and she jumped when the birds all suddenly took flight. Lissy thought how it solidified her hatred for the birds, willing to dine on the dead, but only if uncontested.

  She dry-heaved when she saw what the birds were congregating around.

  The unmistakable form of a woman’s body lay bloodied and mangled, facedown in the muddy grass.

  3

  August 16, 2019

  Lissy stared at the body, unable to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. The woman had a petite frame and long, dark hair—like Mia’s. She stifled a sob as she dropped to her knees beside the mangled remains. The skin was pale white but flecked with black spots—burns, Lissy thought—and there were bloodied peck marks scattered everywhere. She couldn’t tell if the birds had tattered the woman’s clothes or if their destruction had been caused by whatever killed her. But her jeans, puffer vest, and thermal top were all but obliterated. The gaping fabric having given the birds easy access to the woman’s decaying flesh.

  Lissy knew she shouldn’t touch anything; she knew she should call the sheriff and leave the body alone. But something ate at her. It was the hair, that jet-black hair. Hair color was one of the few ways she and Mia differed in appearance. Lissy was a dirty blond like her father, and Mia had hair as black as the ravens she’d just scared away. She imagined her sister, dead on the rock where David found her, and wondered if the ravens had made a similar feast of her. If so, David had never mentioned it.

  Then she imagined flipping this body over and seeing Mia’s face blankly staring back at her. She needed to know that it wasn’t Mia lying in the mud being pecked at by those despicable black demons. Without another thought, she reached over, placed a hand on the woman’s bloody arm, and rolled her over.

  She screamed and dropped back, attempting to scurry away from the disfigurement. The wet grass caused her to slip and fall back into the mud. In her twenty-five years of life, she’d never seen anything so disturbing. The woman’s eyes were gone, as was her nose. As the magnitude of the image set in, Lissy realized the woman’s whole face had been ripped off. Huge gashes ran vertically from the top of her head to the bottom of her chin, lacerations far too large to have been inflicted by birds.

  Sitting up, she fumbled in her pocket and extracted her cell phone. Then, after two minutes of searching frantically for the number, she finally found it and pressed Send.

  “Sheriff’s department, what can I do for you?” a woman’s voice announced on the other end.

  “Kathy, I need you to send Porter over to the bluff right now.” Lissy’s voice cracked as she was barely able to get the words out.

  “I’m sorry, who is this?”

  “It’s Lissy—Elisabeth—Ouellette. Tell him to hurry. Someone’s dead.”

  Lissy ended the call and sat in the wet grass, glaring at the woman’s body that had been ravaged and left to rot. A hundred questions played through her mind, and chief among them was, Who could have done this? Or, more aptly, What could have done this? Once again, she glanced up at the top of the cliff, recalling the odd vision from the night before.

  Only thirty minutes had passed since she’d called the sheriff’s office, but Lissy was becoming a nervous wreck. Not only was she sitting alone, ten feet from a dead body, but the sun was setting, and the darkness felt like it was overtaking her. The frogs around the lake were beginning to sound off-key, and every other sound that emanated from the night might have been caused by the person or thing who killed her big sister.

  Minute after minute she tried to expel the image of the faceless body from her mind, but it wouldn’t leave. And, while it was a completely insane idea, not knowing who the body belonged to with any certainty was antagonizing her. Lissy’s brain teetered between thoughts of the faceless form in front of her and that of her sister, eleven years earlier. Mia had been clawed and burnt. While the body wasn’t charred in the way David had described Mia’s to be, she couldn’t stop herself from forging the bridge between the two.

  A slight breeze rustled the pines at her back. She whipped around, half expecting to see whatever ravenous beast had decimated this poor woman. There was nothing. Nothing. She remembered how, in her vision the night before, she’d been encircled by some invisible force. In light of that recollection, the nothing she saw as she stared toward the trees didn’t feel so advantageous.

  Thoughts of sprinting to her car and driving away from the lake had taunted her the entire time she waited. If only she’d driven back through the woods and not parked in the lot. She’d considered it, but the walk through the forest had always served as a time of preparation to see the lake again. Regardless, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the dead woman alone, no matter how scared she felt. Whoever this woman was, she deserved to have someone care enough to stay by her side until someone came to claim her.

  As the sun sank below the trees and night set in, she became more frantic. And she couldn’t keep herself from taking short, darting glances toward the top of the cliff. She shivered at the thought, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them up to her chest.

  Then it hit her: whatever had killed this woman might still be around. But before she could even bring herself to stand, let alone run, she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching through the trees. Turning, she saw two bright beams cutting through the twilight. The truck emerged from the forest and she could see the big star on its side. It was the sheriff, Jack Porter. And his chief deputy, Logan McNamara, was arriving in a second truck right behind his.

  As Sheriff Porter climbed down from the truck and knelt at her side, she suddenly realized how incredibly weak she felt—weak and afraid. The fear of sitting alone in that place had, unbeknownst to her, drained the energy from her body.

  Porter spoke with a thick Southern accent while pointing a flashlight first at her, then the body. “How’d you find her?” The frogs were almost deafening, and the wind gusted, much stronger than earlier in the day. Or perhaps she’d only just noticed.

  “You okay, hon?” Porter prompted again. She didn’t respond. In that moment—that place—she found herself unable to speak.

  “How ’bout,” Porter said, “I have Logan drive you back to town. I’m sure you could use a little rest. Then maybe in a couple hours we could bring you back in for questions.”

  The thought of getting away from the lake soothed her a little, enough to momentarily break through the fear-induced paralysis.

  “Yeah. Please.” She hadn’t realized until then that she was shivering violently, her skin covered in goosebumps. And she hadn’t unclenched her jaw since she found the body. That level of anxiety was simply more than she was equipped to handle.

  “All right, hon. Let’s get you standin’ up here.” Porter put one hand on her shoulder and one on her elbow. The gesture startled her and
she screamed, jerking away.

  She looked up at the sheriff, who looked on with concern.

  “Sorry.”

  “Not a problem, hon. Don’t see but a few jumpers every year. Seeing it up close is bound to put you in shock. You’ll feel better with a little sleep in ya and some food after that.”

  Logan approached, offering Lissy a hand. She grabbed it, and he pulled her up with a firm yank. She struggled to her feet as her legs began to buckle, not having moved for almost an hour. Logan caught her and slipped her arm around his shoulder. “I got ya, Lissy.”

  The sheriff shined his light on her face.

  “Ya okay, hon?”

  “Fine. Just need to get out of here,” she replied.

  “Let’s get ya to my truck,” Logan instructed gently.

  “Thanks.”

  Logan helped her into his large Ford pickup, the spinning red light on its roof serving as the only indication that it was a police vehicle.

  “Heck of a thing,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s side and started the truck.

  She never replied, only watched out the window as they drove through the trees, making their way back out onto the main road.

  “Anyone I can call for you? So you’re not alone tonight?”

  Lissy thought about it. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to see. But her not wanting to be alone outweighed the need to keep people at bay. Neil flashed through her mind.

  “I’ll text him. Thanks.”

  “Sure.” Logan tapped the wheel a couple of times. He was awkward around her, always had been. Although they’d gone to the same high school, he was in Neil’s grade, a year ahead of her, so they had never talked much. Not that the grade mattered anyway. Lissy hadn’t really spoken with many of the kids in her own grade either. But when they did talk, it was generally clumsy and uncouth.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at it for a long time, typing nothing. Finally, as they neared the city and she couldn’t bear the thought of coming home to an empty apartment any longer, she texted Neil.

  As the Ford pulled up to the back of the market, Neil was already sitting on the stairs to Lissy’s apartment. He jogged over, opened the door, and reached up. “You okay?”

  She took his hand and used the running board to climb down. “I’m okay.”

  The streetlights illuminated her face.

  “Oh my—” Neil said, not finishing his thought.

  Logan had made his way around the truck. “Think she might be in shock. Probably needs some sleep.”

  Lissy was in a daze. She couldn’t think of much to say in response, so she remained silent. The exhaustion was taking over.

  “Okay, let’s get you upstairs,” Neil said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

  “Real quick!” Logan ran closer. “Lemme put my number in your phone in case you need anything.”

  Neil grinned as Lissy handed Logan the phone. He input his number and gave it back to her.

  “Let me know if you need anything. These things can be really hard.”

  She tried to force a smile, although it never really formed.

  “Thanks, Logan,” Neil said.

  The chief deputy nodded and walked back to the truck. As he pulled away, Neil helped Lissy up the stairs and held her steady as she retrieved her keys and unlocked the door. She turned the knob and Neil pushed it open.

  “Where you want to go?”

  “Couch,” she replied hoarsely.

  “Got it.” He swooped down, lifting both of her legs off the ground, and carried her to the sofa in the small living room.

  He flipped on the lamp perched on the thin table behind the couch and looked at her. She was already beginning to doze off.

  “You look pale.” To Lissy, he sounded a million miles away and fading. “When was the last time you ate? Or drank?”

  He stood and disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back, Lissy only vaguely sensed his presence beside her. He said something she didn’t understand, then something touched her lips . . . a mug . . . she sipped. Then she pulled back without warning and some of the tea spilled onto her arm. She barely registered the hot liquid burning her skin.

  “Sorry!” Neil grimaced. “I’ll get a towel.”

  She settled into some pillows, knowing she owed Neil an explanation, but all she wanted to do was sleep.

  He came back and pressed the towel to her arm. “You hungry?”

  Already nodding off, she shook her head, or at least she thought she was shaking it. She was so weak she wasn’t sure what she was doing.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No . . . sorry.”

  He put a hand on her knee. “I figured.” He paused, then said, “You know Logan’s got a crush on you.”

  This caught her off guard. She opened her eyes long enough to glimpse the grin on his face and then let her head drop back on the pillows.

  “Just making conversation.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “I’ll get you a blanket.” He stood and walked away again.

  She sighed, releasing the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been harboring for hours. She’d gone to the lake to mourn her sister and instead found a dead woman lying in shreds only yards from where the bodies of Mia’s friends had been discovered and at the foot of the cliff atop which Mia herself was found. What were the odds of that? She just wanted to forget about it.

  Neil came back in and covered her with the blanket. Then he settled into the leather chair beside the couch. Surprisingly, she found herself comforted by his presence as she fell asleep.

  4

  November 22, 2005

  Mia heard the familiar sound of the floor creaking softly outside her room. She’d been expecting her arrival since she’d climbed into bed that evening. It was the anniversary of their dad’s death. The event had been a lot for all three of them emotionally, especially for Lissy, who was now old enough to understand what she was missing in life without a father.

  The doorknob twisted with a slight squeal, and Lissy slipped into the room, closing it quietly behind her. Mia found it cute that Lissy still thought their mom had no idea that she often visited Mia’s room when they were supposed to be sleeping. In reality, the little girl made so much noise as she sneaked out of one room and into the other that the whole neighborhood probably knew.

  Mia slid over, making room for her sister as Lissy tiptoed to the bed and climbed under the heavy comforter.

  Arms behind her head and eyes on the spinning ceiling fan, Mia asked, “How you doin’ kid?”

  “Okay,” Lissy said quietly.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “I do and I don’t.”

  “I get it,” Mia said, not wanting to press her little sister to spill about her feelings.

  After a long silence, Lissy said, “Tell me something about him I’ve never heard before.”

  Mia smiled. “You say that every year. I’m running out of stories.”

  “It doesn’t have to be exciting. Anything. Tell me something boring . . . something he’d say . . . something that was completely him.”

  Mia hummed as she always did when she was thinking. She got that habit from her mom. “Okay, here’s something I’ve never told you.” She sat up, invigorated by the memory. “It’s not exciting though. Just the kind of thing he’d always say.”

  “Perfect.” Lissy propped herself up on an elbow.

  “So, I was in the first grade, and this kid—the class bully—said something to me that had me absolutely wrecked. I don’t even remember what it was, just how horrible his words made me feel. Dad was at the bus stop when I got home, waiting like usual, and he knew immediately something was up. He asked what was wrong, so I told him about the bully. Told him I never wanted to go back to school. And Dad, in his infinite wisdom, said to go back and “kill him with kindness.” Which was a horrible thing to tell a seven-year-old.” Mia laughed. “It took him almost the entire walk home from the bus
stop to explain that he didn’t really mean that I should kill the bully.”

  Even in the dim light, Mia could see the grin on her sister’s face.

  “Finally,” she went on, “he said something so basic, yet so profound, that I’ve never forgotten it.”

  “What was it?”

  Mia laughed quietly before answering, “He said, ‘Love always wins. You might feel afraid sometimes, or angry, or hurt—but if you respond with love, the bullies can’t win.’ ”

  Lissy was quiet for a minute. Mia wondered what she was thinking. “I like that.” She tried the words out herself. “Love always wins.”

  “You don’t even know what it means.” Mia laughed, nudging her sister.

  “I do!” Lissy replied too loudly. Then softer, “I think he meant . . . even if you’re scared, the bad guys can’t change you unless you let them in—let them take your love away.”

  Proud of her baby sister, Mia replied, “That’s exactly what he meant.” She lay down and pulled the blanket to her chin. “All right, kid, I’ve got a lit test in the morning. Love you.”

  “You too.”

  After a few minutes, Lissy’s breaths began to lengthen. She’d be asleep soon, Mia thought. Then, clearly dopey, Lissy whispered, “Mia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When you were scared—you know, like with nightmares and stuff—did he hold you?” Mia’s heart broke at the question.

  “Yeah . . . he’d always say he wasn’t letting go until I knew I was safe. And he wouldn’t either . . . I don’t remember him ever letting go before I’d stopped crying.”