Devil in Ohio

by Daria Polatin

  “No!” I scooted over to her across the slippery grain. “You were only trying to help,” I assured her. “You tried to help your sister escape from torture and cruelty.”

  I remembered what my mom had told me. “And her death wasn’t your fault. It’s the monsters’ who did this to you.”

  Mae’s face turned to me.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You have to forgive yourself.”

  Mae shook her head. “No, I’m ready to die. At least that way I can see Amelia again. And maybe I can save you—it’s my fault I brought you into this.”

  The fact that this whole trip was my fault was hanging around my neck like an anchor. I had to confess. She had to know the truth.

  “Those white roses on your bed—I put them there. It’s my fault you came back here tonight.”

  Mae’s wet eyes widened. “You put them there?”

  “I shouldn’t have done it. I was upset. I’m so sorry; it is all my fault and not yours.”

  Mae took that in, then shook her head.

  “No, it’s not. I ruined everything for you—your family, Sebastian. I know I did. I’m sorry. I copied you—I admit it,” she went on. “I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be in your family. I wanted to be close to you. Close to all of you. You think your life is so normal and boring, but it’s special, Jules. You don’t even know what you have. I wanted it. I wanted it all.”

  Finally, an admission that I wasn’t crazy—that Mae had been trying to take over my life. I guess I understood why she’d done it, but it was such a huge relief to hear that it hadn’t all been in my head.

  “Thank you. For saying that.”

  I appreciated the sentiment, but we had to focus. We didn’t know when Haskell would be back, or what he would do to us. We needed to leave.

  “We have to get out of here, Mae. Both of us. Mom’s waiting in the car. Come with me.”

  Mae didn’t answer. I could hear her whimpering. If we were going to get away, now was our chance.

  “I need you to turn around. Scoot your back so it faces mine.”

  She didn’t move. Action Mode Jules sprang into gear.

  “Mae!” I nearly yelled. “Move! We need to do this!”

  Finally, she started to turn around. I propelled myself over to her, and we pushed our backs toward each other.

  “I saw this in a movie once. Untie my hands,” I demanded.

  “What?”

  “Do it!” I whisper-shouted. Confidence trumped my fear. “Haskell will be back any minute.”

  Mae hesitated, the thought of her brother weakening her will.

  I made my final plea: “Mae, do it for me. You owe it to me to at least try.”

  Mae heaved a breath, then obeyed. Following my directions, she worked the rope around my wrists until I felt it start to loosen.

  I slipped my fingers out of the ropes, then untied Mae’s hands.

  Then we sped to unbind our feet. Neither of us spoke, our hearts pounding so hard I could hear them both.

  When our legs were free, we stood and stumbled across the slippery grain. Moving again made my head ache even more, but I pushed through it. We had to get out of the silo.

  As we reached the door, it opened.

  Mae and I both crouched down on opposite sides of the door.

  Haskell stepped in past us. He held something in front of his face.

  “I made it myself,” he beamed, holding up a “wreath” he’d made—a barbed wire crown of thorns.

  As my breath caught in my throat, I pressed on. I nodded at Mae across the doorway, behind Haskell’s back. Since it was so dark, it would take him a few seconds to notice that we weren’t there. This was our chance.

  She nodded back, and we—

  Bolted out the door.

  CHAPTER 48

  WHITE-HOT TERROR FILLED SUZANNE AS THE SHERIFF STOOD before her.

  “Trespassing,” he scolded. “Tut, tut.”

  Suzanne tried to discreetly slide the phone into her back pocket without him noticing.

  “Take him down,” she returned. Using her crutches, she tried to move around him, but he blocked her path.

  “Shame you got yourself injured. Lord only knows how that happened,” he said with a wry upturn of his lips.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” Suzanne assured.

  “Trouble,” he said as he took a slow step toward her. “That’s about all you’ve caused.” His dark eyes stared her down. “You have something that belongs to me.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by that,” Suzanne replied, avoiding eye contact.

  “Oh, ya don’t? What were you doing in here? This is private property.”

  “That child is in danger.” Suzanne felt her anger rising.

  “I was just coming to take him down. Bring him in for his first confession.”

  Suzanne literally bit her tongue to withhold herself from commenting.

  “Give me the photographs,” he demanded.

  She didn’t answer. Her eyes darted around her, assessing whether there was any other way to get out than the exit behind him.

  “I saw you taking them on your telephone.”

  “I’ll just make my way out and let you get back to your business.” She could call an ambulance to come and get the child.

  “Give me the phone.” He wasn’t asking.

  She needed the photos. It was her evidence—proof that these people were abusing children. These photos would make a strong case, and combined with Mae’s testimony, she could make sure the townspeople were punished for the child abuse they’d caused. Since there was no signal anywhere in town, the data hadn’t had a chance to back itself up to the Cloud—she needed the phone.

  “I asked nicely,” he warned, treading toward her. She could feel his hot breath on her neck.

  He reached his hand toward Suzanne’s back pocket.

  She smacked his hand away with her crutch.

  He snickered. “You’re a feisty one.”

  Suzanne held her crutch out and tried to push him away, but he grabbed the end of it and yanked, pulling Suzanne off balance.

  She tumbled to the floor at his feet.

  Groaning as she hit the hard wood, she could feel her ankle pounding in its cast—the fall made her injury hurt even more.

  She forced herself up onto her hands and knees, keeping the weight off her injured ankle, and began to crawl away from him.

  THUD! She slammed to the ground again—he’d pulled her leg out from under her.

  He laughed again.

  Now lying flat on her stomach, Suzanne frantically flailed at him with her good foot. She heard metal clanging.

  Her shoe had knocked over a set of fire pokers that stood next to the hearth.

  Now she felt his weight on top of her. She tried to squirm herself free, but he flipped her over right side up. He kneeled over her, and pinned her wrists to the floor above her head with one hand.

  She stared up at his dark eyes, terrified of what he might do next.

  With his free hand, he reached around to her lower back and slid his hand into the back pocket of her jeans.

  She gasped at the contact of his hand on her body.

  He slipped the phone out from beneath her.

  Still kneeling on top of her, he released her hands and opened the door to the woodstove to throw the phone in. Suzanne hurled her fists at him, but it was no use.

  He tossed her phone into the fire.

  “No!” Suzanne screamed as she saw her precious photos melt into the vermillion flames.

  “Now,” he said, looking back down at her. “What do I do with you?”

  Suzanne was paralyzed with fear. Then her past came flooding back to her: flashes of her father beating her, her mother trying in vain to wrench him off, her brother sobbing in the corner.

  “Time to teach you not to go meddling in other people’s business.” He reached for the thick leather belt at his waist.

  Suzanne’s body pumped with
terror, anger, rage.

  He unbuckled his belt and snaked it out of his pant loops and—

  THWUNK!

  The sheriff’s eyes bulged wide, his jaw slackened. He looked down at his chest, bewildered.

  Dark red trickled from the center of his shirt, the bloodstain blooming toward the edges of his open jacket. His face contorted in horror as he saw:

  A thin shaft of metal protruding from his chest.

  Suzanne had speared him with a fire poker.

  CHAPTER 49

  “OVER HERE!” MAE WHISPERED AS WE SPRINTED OUT of the silo.

  I followed her through a warehouse, which was attached to the silo, as fast as my legs would carry me.

  The big barn wasn’t far, I believed, but we had to get there fast because Haskell was already coming after us.

  As we passed heavy machinery used for processing grain, we reached the end of the warehouse. It connected to another building—a long barn with rows of sleeping cows in stalls. I could see that the animals were branded, with five-pointed stars on their haunches.

  I signaled to the far end of the barn, where I was pretty sure the car was.

  We sped through the odorous barn as heavy footfalls thumped behind us, getting closer.

  Closer.

  I had seen the sequence in North by Northwest where a man was being chased by a crop duster enough times to know that it was impossible to outrun things that were bigger and faster than you. I had to think of something.

  Running past the stalls, I glanced to my right and saw an opening that led to another, parallel row of stalls. I quickly grabbed Mae’s arm and ducked down around the corner of the opening to the other side, behind a stack of crates.

  My heart was pumping so hard I thought it would explode.

  Mae and I were kneeling close. She turned to me, and our eyes locked. My anger toward her, my frustration, melted away. She had been willing to give her life for me. And a few months ago, the last thing in the world I thought I’d be doing was rescuing a runaway from an angry cult. Albeit scary as hell, it was exhilarating. Spending time with Mae, and everything I’d gone through at school, had challenged me to be bolder, take more action, and here I was being that new person. I might not make it till tomorrow, but I was proud of New Jules.

  Haskell’s heavy treads whipped around the corner toward us.

  And then.

  Past us.

  I had a millisecond of relief. If we doubled back to the aisle we had been in and kept our bodies low, we could hopefully make it out of the barn without him seeing us.

  I prayed to God my mom would be ready with the car running.

  Mae peeked around the edge of the crates to see that Haskell was far enough past us to make a run for it. Now that he was in the second aisle, we crept back to the first. Hunched low, we sped down the row, careful not to slip on any wet piles of cow shit or wake any of the bovines.

  When we reached the far end of the barn, there was a heavy door. Glancing to the right, I saw Haskell glaring around in the other aisle. We’d need to open the old wooden door to get out, which he was sure to hear. We had to do it fast and race to the car before he caught on.

  Mae and I made eye contact, then looked at the door. Quickly, she turned the handle and heaved the door open.

  It creaked loudly, causing Haskell to turn toward us. We fled out of the barn to—

  An empty dirt lot; no car.

  I was sure this was where we’d parked it. Mom should be here!

  “It was right here!” I panted.

  Had my mother left us? Where had she gone? How were we supposed to get out of here? Haskell would make his way out to us sooner than—

  THUD THUD THUD, came his heavy boots.

  Mae and I turned to him. Seeing us, he smiled, stopping to catch his breath. He was holding the razor-wire crown.

  Shit, shit, shit. Where the hell was Mom? How were we supposed to get out of here? We’d have to make a run for it into the woods and head for the highway. Maybe there we could hitch a ride to safety before Haskell caught up to us.

  I nodded toward the trees and she nodded back, silently agreeing to head for the highway. We took off sprinting.

  MEEP MEEEEEP, Isaac’s aunt’s minivan blared.

  The car reeled around the corner of the barn, my mother at the wheel.

  Mom pulled the car up in front of us. Haskell was closing in. I hurled open the door before the vehicle stopped moving. Mae and I threw ourselves in.

  “GO! GO! GO!” I yelled.

  As I yanked the door shut we sped off in the minivan. A sliver of Haskell’s image—a mere few yards away—disappeared as the van door swung closed.

  We bumped down the dirt road as fast as the minivan would carry us, and barreled onto the highway.

  As we sped away, whining cop cars passed us, headed for Tisdale.

  EPILOGUE

  “LIGHT OR DARK?”

  The knife glinted in the candlelight, perched waiting for me to make my choice.

  “Dark meat, please,” I requested of my mother, who dove into carving a drumstick off the turkey for me.

  It was our traditional Thanksgiving meal, which was one of my favorite holidays because it revolved around eating. And I was relieved to have a few days off from school to relax and binge as many classic films as I could stream.

  “Marianne, what can I get for you?” my mom, now hobbling around in an air cast, offered to our guest.

  “Oh, I’ll have light, please,” the woman said, her voice velvety soft. She wore a white silk blouse and long maroon wool skirt, which I admired.

  “Oliver, what about you?”

  Marianne’s husband opted for light as well. His brown tweed jacket and khaki pants were a respectable combo, minus the pleats.

  The young couple had joined us for dinner. Mom had invited them, seeing as they were going to be Mae’s new foster parents, and I was curious to meet them.

  “Mae loves turkey,” my mom informed them.

  Marianne stretched her lips into a smile. “That’s very good to know. I want to learn everything you like,” she said, gazing at Mae.

  While the sentiment was nice, she seemed really into Mae—kind of overly so.

  But Mae seemed excited to have a new family to live with, and happy that they were looking to foster and hopefully eventually adopt her. Although of course, she was sad to leave us, and Remingham.

  “You’re only moving a few hours away,” I’d offered to soften the blow of the move. “And we can video chat.” I’d grinned, knowing that I’d been the one to show Mae how to use it.

  I was bummed she was moving away, but I knew it would be good for her to get farther away from Tisdale, although still staying in state because of foster care laws.

  And it would also be good for my family. The events of the last few months had caused a lot of strain on us, and I was glad to get some time back all together so we could become a close-knit family again.

  Although I’d miss her, Mae leaving was kind of a relief.

  “Pass the casserole, Jules?” asked Dani. I handed her the plate of green beans. The crispy onions on top wafted to my nostrils, making me so ready to eat this meal.

  “Save some for the rest of us,” Helen snapped at Dani as she piled green beans onto her plate.

  “Jules, can you spoon some gravy on this?” Dad asked, reaching out his plate, heaped with stuffing. I was glad that he was living in the house with us again. It felt so much better to have things back to normal between my parents.

  “Mae, would you like light meat or dark?” my mother offered.

  Mae looked at the gigantic turkey on the table.

  “I’ll have light, please. Thank you, Suzanne,” she smiled.

  “Mae, we painted your room lavender,” Marianne grinned. “That’s your favorite color, right?”

  “Yes.” Mae nodded. “Thank you.”

  “And you’re all signed up at the local school. A church friend of mine’s daughter’s going to show you
around,” Oliver added, pleased with himself.

  “That sounds great,” Mae replied, sipping her ginger ale.

  “So do you have other children?” Dad asked the couple, adding mashed potatoes to his plate.

  Marianne and Oliver looked at each other. “We don’t,” she said, sadly. “I’m not able to.”

  Oliver put his hand on his wife’s leg. I noticed his hand fell pretty high up her thigh for being in front of other people.

  I felt bad that they couldn’t have their own kids. But then, being a young couple, why were they choosing to foster Mae? Wouldn’t they want a baby so they could raise it like their own?

  “That’s why we’re so happy to have Mae,” Oliver replied, turning to Mae with a smile.

  Mae had been happy when she’d met with the couple—she and Mom had gone to spend time with them on a few occasions, to make sure it was the right fit. Now, all the paperwork was finally signed, and after our meal, they were going to whisk Mae off to her new home.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about them was kind of weird.

  “Marianne, could I have that gravy right near you?” Mom asked, extra kindly to our guest.

  “Sure thing,” Marianne replied, reaching for the porcelain.

  As Marianne’s thin arm stretched to pick up the gravy boat, her shirtsleeve lifted, revealing a small tattoo on her wrist of the delicate letters:

  o.t.o.

  It was a strange combo of letters. I wondered if it was someone’s initials, or maybe it stood for something. But I brushed it off and enjoyed the rest of the meal with my family.

  After we’d finished, Oliver and Dad loaded Mae’s things into the young couple’s car. I still thought something was strange about them, but maybe I was just sad that Mae was leaving. Saying good-bye to her was hard, especially after all we’d been through. However, I knew she’d be better off starting over somewhere else.

  When all her things were packed up and the car was running, I hugged Mae.

  “Keep in touch, like, every second, okay?” I made her promise.

  “Pinkie swear,” she grinned back. Then she bounced down our stone walkway to her new foster parents’ car.