“You’re both sickos, you know that?” one of them says.
There’s a few seconds of silence and my brain races through the possibilities. Should I walk into their camp and beg for help? What if they’re perverts, or criminals? The conversation starts up again and I listen some more, trying to narrow down my opinion of these strangers.
“Awww, Butch, go sit your fat ass down and get those hairy boobs away from me.”
Gruff voice says, “Don’t be a tease. You know I can’t take rejection.”
“A woman. I was talking about finding a woman.”
“Now you’re just insultin’ me,” the one with the rough voice says. “Best give me fifty dollars so I won’t flatten your face.”
“Touchy old broad isn’t he?” one of the others says.
“Expensive too.”
So far, I can distinguish three voices, maybe four. I decide to go tell Corrine we have campers near us and ask her what she thinks. In light of the fact that I couldn’t hear a single female voice, and I don’t have clothes on, I’m definitely leaning toward staying away from them, at least until morning. Daylight provides a certain level of false security the dark of night lacks.
Taking cat-like steps back to where I’d come from, I suddenly find myself shrieking with surprise.
“Who’s out there?” a man asks.
Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him at all. My firewood falls to my feet in a jumble, all but one long branch. I brandish it out in front of me like a sword.
“Who are you?” I ask in an accusing tone.
“Uh-huh, I asked you first,” he says.
“I was collecting firewood,” I stammer. “My friends are waiting for me,” I add.
His voice seems to be coming from the ground, but I can’t tell for sure, or he’s very short, like a child, but he doesn’t have the voice of a child. Then I see is his outline under the shadows of a tree. My heart thumps inside my ears. I know how vulnerable I am right now. He doesn’t make a move. Neither do I, and I don’t want to give him any advantage over me, so I hold my ground.
“In the dark? In your skivvies?” he asks.
I can hear the skepticism in his voice.
“That’s right,” I say curtly and with as much confidence as I can.
“Well, you have a real nice night then, ma’am,” he says, still not moving away from his tree.
Why won’t this guy just leave? I don’t want him to follow me, and or jump on me, and I can’t see his face. What is up? And why is his voice so familiar?
“Who are you?” I ask again. The perturbed sound coming out of me is more annoying to my own ears than anyone listening, but I can’t get past the fact that I know who this guy is.
“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a real disadvantage. If you wouldn’t mind takin’ up your firewood and moseyin’ on along the way, I’d be much obliged.”
I digest his words and can hardly believe it. I’m in my underwear, alone in the dark, and he’s telling me to scat. I bend down and grab a couple pieces of the wood from the ground, intending to make a break for it, but my brain can’t stop wondering what this guy is doing? The next thing I know, the phrase, “Does a bear shit in the woods?” plays like a recording only I can hear. I feel my face flush with heat as embarrassment sends me scurrying away like a startled mouse.
Then, like a brain fart letting loose, it hits me, a repulsive bubble of stench, but also, oddly relieving. “Oh God, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmur under my breath. I don’t turn around, but I know he can hear me. “Is your name Eli?”
The unmistakable sound of his fly zipping makes me want to bite back my words and take off. What the hell am I doing? This couldn’t be the same group of bikers that rescued Corrine and me before. Even as I deny the possibility, my gut knows it’s them, the deer killers.
“It is, Ma’am. And you are?” he asks, his southern accent more clear than ever.
My eyes close for a brief moment. Of all people, why this guy? I silently ask the mysterious universe. I hadn’t exactly made the best first impression and Corrine had all but put her hand in Eli’s pants at our last run-in. Oh hell, how many levels of embarrassment can there be? A sigh of disbelieving resignation escapes my lips and then I answer him. “In desperate need of your help. Again.”
∞
Do I dare try to come up with the right adjective to describe the mortification of walking into Eli’s camp partially dressed in the middle of the night with a story no one would ever believe? There isn’t an appropriate word. Thankfully, Eli saves my nearly naked butt some humiliation by giving me a shirt to wear and a camp blanket before his fellow bikers see me.
“Are either of you girls hurt?” Eli asks.
“No, nothing serious.” My little finger isn’t throbbing as bad since I wrapped a crushed plantain leaf around it. Even at night the herb wasn’t too hard to find. It grows just about everywhere. I also know that my nail being torn off isn’t life-threatening. I wish I could just forget about it, but at some point I’m going to have to look at the damage. My other bruises, scrapes, and sore parts are numb. All I can feel right now is relief at finding help in the middle of the night.
“If ya’ll can wait ‘til mornin’ then we’d be happy to give you a ride to town,” he says as we step out of the trees and walk into the circle of light cast from their fire.
All eyes watch us enter the campsite. Bandanas, facial hair, and leather are apparently mandatory to be a member of this motorcycle crew.
“If you want to shed a little light on your situation, we could get you out of these hills tonight.”
“Morning’s fine,” Corrine says before I have a chance to say anything about our situation.
“Our car’s broken down, that’s all, so we decided to try to walk out.”
I see Eli eye me up, down, and back up again, but he doesn’t call me out.
He’s more friendly and personable than I remembered him. In the firelight, he has a soft golden and white glow around him, which instantly comes across to me as feeling safe. Which is completely opposite of how I thought of him from before, with a handgun pointed at an innocent deer. I push the memory aside — he’s offering his help now — and I don’t have many options.
“See, Crash, ask and you will receive,” one of the bikers says.
Crash, a man with a narrow nose, and a thin mustache and goatee, stirs the fire with a long stick and answers back. “Those are girls. I said I needed a woman.”
“They look of age,” the other one says back.
“Cut it out, Mike. You’re makin’ them nervous,” Eli says.
And he is. I can’t spend the rest of the night here wondering if we’re about to be manhandled at any second.
“They’re harmless,” Eli says to Corrine and me.
I wish I could believe him, but then Butch, the hairy giant, spots me and any trace of reassurance is snuffed out like a dying candle.
“Hello there, Dolly. Eli said we’d meet up with you again,” Butch pats his rotund middle. “I’m a big ol’ warm bear and you look like you’re in need of some warmin’ up.”
“Thank you. No,” I say, and grab Corrine’s hand and then turn to leave this less than desirable camp.
“Butch, you stupid boar,” Eli swears. Then to my back, he continues, “We’ve all sworn an oath to Christ. We’re not your typical bikers, Jules. I swear on the Bible, you and Corrine are safe here with us. No matter what those fools say.”
“He ain’t lyin’,” one of the others adds. “Eli’s even ordained. If you don’t believe it, just look at us. We all wear the patch of The Savior Rides MC.”
MC, MC? I try to work it out quickly. Master of ceremonies? Motley crew? No silly girl. My brain slaps me a big ‘duh’ — motorcycle club. I had seen the patches on Eli’s vest. I stop my retreat. Corrine hadn’t really moved anyway. I had been tugging at a motionless blob.
“Bet y’all could use a bite to eat,” Eli says to my back.
&nb
sp; My shoulders sag with resignation and the two tons of responsibility weighing me down. Do we have any choice?
Corrine eats a hot dog, but I decline, and instead, eat a cookie from a bag, and then share freshly popped smoky flavored popcorn with the whole lot of them. When Crash hands me orange mango pineapple juice in a smooth curvy plastic bottle, I decline, remembering what I overheard in the woods about fondling. I gratefully accept a brand new unopened bottle of water from Eli.
Shortly after our midnight snack, Eli insists Corrine and I take his tent as he was planning to tend the fire all night anyway. Corrine doesn’t hesitate as she climbs into the tiny space and lies down. I crawl in next to her, seriously doubting I’ll be able to get any sleep at all.
I listen to the night, the strange men, the crackle of fire, and refuse to sleep, even though lying down does feel like a sudden exotic luxury. A need so desperate I almost cry as my head touches the ground. I keep up my energetic wall of protection like encapsulating Corrine and myself in a vault. It helps, but fear lurks around the edges and weakens my confidence. There’s a few hours left until the sun comes up so I vow to stay awake. I’m not willing to let my guard down. Too much has happened. Before I finish counting to ten, Corrine’s breathing slows to a heavy rhythm and she’s sound asleep. I roll over onto my side clutching my hiking pack tight in my hands and try not to be envious. I can’t relax here. I don’t know how Corrine is able to. She’s the one who lost her stepfather after all. The smell of Eli’s bedroll is strong and all male. It’s a musty mix of cologne, campfire, motorcycle exhaust, and a hint of gasoline. This is the last thing I remember before the nightmare starts.
Chapter Twenty-three: The Dark and The Light
Juliana
“Nathaniel, where are you?” I call out for the fourth time. It’s completely dark. I have no idea where we are, but I know Nathaniel is close. I can hear his perfect smooth voice and I can even smell his clean fresh smell, but I can’t feel him or see him. Where had he come from? And better yet, how did I get here? I blink my eyes a few times trying to figure out if I’m blindfolded. Nothing brushes my eyelashes. Everything is pitch black.
“Where did you go, Juliana? I can’t see you either.”
“I’m right here,” I say frustrated. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. Keep talking and keep moving. I think you’re getting closer,” he says.
“I don’t like this, Nathaniel.”
“Neither do I. You’re close. Say something else.”
I say the first thing that comes to mind, a poem from a favorite book. “How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail, and pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale. How cheerfully he seems to grin. How neatly spreads his claws, and welcomes little fishes in…”
“With gently smiling jaws.”
Nathaniel finishes the poem and then I feel him. There is something like webbing all over him. There’s some kind of tool in my hand and I cut very carefully at the gauze-like film until he reaches out and wraps his arms around me. He’s solid and warm and so real feeling that I could lose myself forever in this unexpected gift.
“You know the poem,” I whisper into his chest.
“We’re all mad here,” he whispers back, continuing to quote one of my favorite books.
A tiny smile lightens my heart in this black void and I can’t resist playing along. “Curiouser and curiouser,” I say with a very bad British accent.
His arms tighten around me for a second and then he moves us one slow step at a time.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“I think you need to tell me,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I was trapped in your car a minute ago and now I’m by your side.”
“You’re saying I’m doing this,” I say in disbelief.
“I think so. Maybe I have something to do with it. Juliana, I haven’t been able to stop worrying about you since you were taken, but look down at your hand. I know I don’t have anything to do with that.”
My right hand rises in the dark. I can feel it, but I can’t see my own hand. I can only see Travis’s dagger. The metal blade catches a light that has no source. “I cut you free. I was so worried about you. He said he was going to enslave you for eternity.” My mouth stops talking as my head tries to put it all together. “Nathaniel, how is this happening?”
“I only have theories, Juliana. Are you sleeping? Are you safe? Where is Corrine and Travis?” he asks three fast questions as he holds me almost painfully next to his side.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe I’m asleep. But don’t worry about Travis. He’s dead.”
Silence fills the black space around us while I wait for Nathaniel to respond. He stiffens, holding me tighter. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with breath, but there is life in him. There’s a soul inside him. It’s heartbreakingly pure and precious, fragile but unbreakable. I want to reach up and touch his face, ease the worry lines I imagine are creasing his brows as he broods over my last words. I don’t get the chance.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and something smothers my face before I can scream.
“I am not dead, Siren,” it hisses in my ear. “My blade is part of me, you stupid girl. It pulled me straight to you the moment you used it.”
Chaos turns my world inside out and upside down. I thrash and kick against nothing but blankets, yet something is being pressed over my face and I can’t breathe. My feet hit someone and a yowl of pain pierces the night. This is quickly followed by Corrine’s hysterical screams, one after another. I rip at the fabric over my face, fighting for air, but I’m unable to pull it away or make any difference at the unbelievable weight holding it against my nose and mouth. My hands grope in all directions. What is on me! I feel the hilt of the dagger. I grab it and swing wildly. On my right, I feel and hear the tent shredding with my madness, but there’s no contact with anything more solid. Blackness creeps in around the edges of my unseeing eyes as I begin to suffocate. Then suddenly, and with a rush of air, the blanket is flung to the side. My burning lungs fill with air and I flail to get out of the confines of the shredded tent.
Landing hard on the ground outside, I see the invisible monster, Travis. He looks like a warped version of himself. He’s still small and wiry, but he’s not in a body like mine or anyone else who is alive. His spirit is loose and it’s a darker adaptation of his physical self. Nathaniel has Travis in a full body hold with his arms locked around Travis’s throat and chest. When Travis sees me on the ground, he lurches toward me and starts to break Nathaniel’s grip.
Nathaniel yells over the ensuing chaos. “Harmony Allistair, over here!”
A rush of shadows appear from all directions and head for Nathaniel and Travis. I think I see a flash of Harmony’s green cloak. Then a body jumps in front of me blocking my view. I can’t see if Travis has broken free. My hand reaches forward to push whoever it is out of my way, but he won’t budge. I lean to the side and see Travis coming for me. Supernatural beings surround him, but he manages to slip from their grasp. The murderous hatred in his eyes and the snarl on his lips causes me to panic. I push myself off my knees ready to run, or hide, or fight.
Men yell and Corrine’s screams overwhelm my ears, but then what happens next stops everything.
“In the name of Christ, I command you to be gone from here. Lord protect us from this evil and surround us with your light!” Eli booms over all the chaos and instantly we are engulfed in a glow of golden light. Eli stands in front of me holding up his arms as if he is holding up the sun itself. When Travis doesn’t tear through Eli and begin to devour my body and soul, I dare to look at him. Travis’s face is turned away from the glow but his body is still leaning in my direction as if he’s going to pass through the protection anyway. He appears to be in terrible pain and yet he still won’t back off completely.
Nathaniel tackles Travis from the side, knocking him over. Travis roars with anger and turns to his atta
cker. Nathaniel grabs his arms and pins him down on the ground. Travis warps into liquid smoke, attempting to get away but Nathaniel does something similar, distorting his shape to keep his hold, and doesn’t fall for Travis’s trick again. Then I see Travis open his mouth and lunge at Nathaniel’s face with his teeth. Nathaniel sees him coming and twists his head away before being bitten.
In the next second, hooded shapes swoop in and surround them again. Travis’s scream is blood-curdling as they wrap him in the strange netting I had seen earlier by the wrecked car. Nathaniel helps restrain the spirit of the dead warlock and then I clearly see the green hood of Harmony.
She calls out, “Double up. We can’t let him use sorcery and mischief again.”
Nathaniel takes some kind of ethereal chain from one of the other hooded figures and moves with lightning speed as he wraps it around Travis. He makes sure to cover Travis’s eyes and mouth and then binds his wrists and arms. The others form a tight circle, holding the netting taught. When Travis is completely bound they take him quickly away from our camp, disappearing into the night.
Eli spins around and grabs me by the shoulders. “Holy smokes,” he exclaims in a whoosh of hot breath. “Let me see you.”
He turns me so the firelight shines on my face. “What was that?”
Numb with incomprehensible fear, I stand and stare at Eli, unable to speak or move.
Without waiting for an answer, he drops my shoulders and grabs Corrine by hers. Looking her over and apparently finding her satisfactory — she somehow avoided the dagger I was swinging — he half drags her over to me and wraps both of us into the protective shield of his arms.
He doesn’t let go and I can hear him praying over us, repeating verses from the Bible over and over. We stay that way for so long I lose all focus, mental or physical. Finally, Eli unwraps his arms from around us, but only long enough to drag blankets and his sleeping bag from the remains of his tent and pull them closer to the fire. He nudges us down onto the blankets and then sits next to us. The other bikers all bring something to sit on and make a circle around the fire. No one speaks. I look down at my hand, noticing for the first time I’m still holding Travis’s dagger. Eli looks down at it too and in one quick movement he reaches over taking it from me.
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