by Ted Hill
Straight ahead, two doors were spaced ten feet apart, barred with two-by-fours. Scout grew excited, guessing that inside each room he’d find his girlfriend and the little girl. He chose the left first and lifted the board out of its braces. The door swung wide on silent hinges.
“Finally,” Catherine said from inside pitch-blackness.
Scout moved forward filling the big closet with candlelight. Startled by an unbelievable sight, the candle slipped from his hand, bounced off the floor and the flame winked out.
“Well that’s not very helpful,” Catherine said.
Scout flicked his Zippo and relit the wick. He stared at Catherine with her arms and legs tied to a large wagon wheel propped against the wall.
She waved her tiny fingers at him. “Please untie me. I really don’t want to roll out of here on my own.”
Scout placed the candle on the floor. He unsheathed his ankle knife and quickly sliced the little girl’s bonds. “Why did they tie you up like this? Did they torture you?”
“Hardly, I’m always getting tied to those things.” She wrapped her arms around Scout in a crushing hug. “I knew it would be you.”
For someone who had been living like a mushroom, Catherine still looked and smelled like sunshine He brushed back her blonde hair and kissed her forehead.
“We have to find Raven before the house wakes up.”
“Someone’s got a girlfriend. I’m jealous.”
Scout offered her a small grin. “She must be behind this other door.” He reached for the bar, but Catherine pushed his arm aside.
“Nice try, hotshot,” she said to the door. “Did you really think you had a fifty-fifty chance of getting him to open your door? I’ve been drawing him here ever since I felt his presence outside.”
Heavy thudding shook the bar in its braces. “Your little group won’t leave town alive!”
Catherine grabbed Scout’s hand and tugged. “Let’s go. Chase will eventually breakthrough and come after us.”
Scout asked, “Is he really some kind of demon?”
“Not exactly,” Catherine answered. “Demons have pointy ears and teeth.”
Scout stared in confusion and shook his head. “We need to find Raven, fast.”
Twisted laughter echoed from behind the door.
Catherine frowned and said, “Follow me.”
She led Scout back down to the middle of the hallway and the locked door. Catherine gripped and turned the doorknob, snapping the locking mechanism. She pushed the door inside and Scout moved past her, lighting the way with his candle.
Raven covered her head and screamed, cowering in the corner of another empty room. Scout approached her speaking gently, but her screaming only grew louder and more desperate. Catherine knelt next to her and with one touch to the head, Raven’s frantic cries stalled. After another moment, the girl’s eyes closed, her faced relaxed and she slumped over to the floor.
Catherine said, “You’ll have to carry her.”
Scout scooped Raven up and held her close. He followed Catherine to the stairs, through the kitchen and out to the garage where a black Cadillac Escalade was parked. The bright sunshine washing over the driveway was a welcomed sight.
Scout opened the backdoor of the Escalade. “Climb in before someone spots us,” he told Catherine
Scout lifted Raven’s unconscious body into the backseat and rested her head on Catherine’s lap. He crawled up behind the steering wheel, using the keys he took from Patrick, he cranked the engine over and sped past the two wide-eyed teenagers circling around the side of the house.
THIRTY-SIX
Molly
“Are you sure it’s safe to be outside?” Molly asked. She wasn’t exactly thrilled, and a little grossed out, when Jimmy explained what they were about to do.
“No, but I’m sick of being indoors.” Jimmy said. He tested the ground in the backyard with a shovel. “Frozen solid. This isn’t going to be easy.” Jimmy spit into his hands and rubbed them together. He pulled his hat down tight and a giant smile stretched across his face. He drove his foot down hard on the shovel and broke ground.
Molly followed Ginger to the second floor and checked out what it was they were supposed to do. In silence, they viewed the pictures on the dresser and the decomposing couple lying in their bed. They read the note and they cried and they hugged each other.
Carefully they bundled the couple into their blankets and secured them together with rope that Ginger had found. They carried the couple downstairs.
Jimmy tossed the shovel out of the grave he had just completed. He smiled at them before running his sweaty arm across his face, leaving a streak of mud on his cheek.
“It’s not quite six feet, but it’ll do,” he said. “You guys did a nice job wrapping them up like that. I think Jonathan would be pleased.”
Molly exchanged smiles with Ginger. For such a grizzly task, Jimmy’s compliment left Molly satisfied about what they were doing for Jonathan and his Jane.
The sun heated the day from straight overhead, making the world bright. Molly found it odd that she felt happy when everything else going on around them was out of control, and for some strange reason that was okay. She peeled off her sweater, leaving behind her white T-shirt; the day having grown too hot for layers. She enjoyed the warm sun on her skin again. This winter had been the longest one ever, even longer than the winter when everyone died.
“I have an idea,” Ginger said, and ran back inside the house.
Jimmy settled the remains gently into the bottom of the hole, and then reached up so Molly could help him climb out. He grabbed the shovel and began burying the couple together in their grave.
Ginger walked out with her arms full of boards, a hammer, a screwdriver, and a can of paint. She set everything on the wooden deck.
“Can I help?” Molly asked.
Ginger handed her the small can of paint. “Shake that up.”
Molly shook the paint as though it were a birthday present. “Wasn’t that the sign hanging over the bed in the guestroom?”
“Yep,” Ginger said, sawing a board at one end.
Molly watched amazed at how confident Ginger handled the tools. The other girl was always trying something new and that’s what made her so good at everything. Molly wasn’t jealous over Ginger’s many talents any longer, she just felt inspired. Ginger finished sawing off two corners so now the four-foot board had a pointy end.
Molly switched hands and continued shaking. The sound of Jimmy shoveling added a nice steady rhythm. Scoop-plop-scoop-plop-scoop-plop. That and the gentle swooshing of her paint can maraca reminded Molly of “The Little Mermaid” they had watched last month on “Generator Movie Night.” Now all they needed were some singing fish.
Ginger hammered a nail through the sign, attaching it to the board. She pounded in a couple more for a sturdier connection.
“Okay. Now it’s your turn.”
A thrill raced through Molly. “What do I get to do?”
Ginger produced a paintbrush from her back pocket. “You get to paint.”
Molly pried the lid up with the screwdriver. A thick, navy soup waited inside. She dipped the narrow bristles into the can and allowed the excess to drip off.
“What do I paint?”
“Just change that one word to read ‘From,’” Ginger said.
Molly smiled with understanding. She made the changes with careful brush strokes and then sat back, happy with her work.
“Perfect,” Ginger said. “Now we wait a minute and let the sunshine do its job.”
Jimmy scooped on the last load of dirt and started smoothing out the mound with the back of the shovel. When he finished, he leaned the shovel against a tall tree whose limbs were speckled with green buds and grabbed his water bottle. He took a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he washed the dirt off his hands and face. When he looked up and caught Molly staring, he gave her a little wink. Her cheeks flared with warmth and she tried to think of other things—li
ke Hunter. It wasn’t too difficult.
“Are we ready?” Jimmy asked.
Ginger handed the grave marker to Molly. “You do the honors.”
Molly carried the cross to the head of the burial mound. She pushed down on top, sliding the pointy end into the turned earth.
Jimmy read, “From Our Guest, A Place to Rest.”
“You should keep this.” Ginger handed Jimmy the note that Jonathon had written.
He nodded, read the note aloud for them to share one last time, and pocketed it. “I’m thankful for my time well spent,” Jimmy said.
Ginger followed. “I’m thankful we found this house so we could bury Jonathan and Jane together the way he wanted.”
Molly knew what she was thankful for right away. The old Molly would probably laugh and say she was being a stupid bitch. “I’m thankful for my friends,” Molly said. The old Molly never knew what it meant to have friends, because she never took the time to be one.
Ginger wrapped her soft arms around Molly in a tight embrace. Jimmy joined them and kissed Molly’s forehead.
He said, “Not just friends, Molly…”
“…We’re family now,” Ginger finished.
Molly found it funny, discovering true joy at the foot of a grave. Finally, she felt complete. This was the perfect moment.
“They’re over here. This way,” Catherine’s voice floated over the fence.
“How do you know?” They heard Scout call. He sounded tired and strained.
Catherine opened the gate from the alley and led Scout into the backyard. He carried Raven’s unconscious body in his arms and a large amount of worry in his eyes.
“Because, silly, my friend told me so,” Catherine said.
She headed straight for the tree and hugged the trunk. All the thousands of buds dotting every limb, branch, and twig suddenly unraveled and expanded into a brilliant green canopy that spread its comforting shade over the silent grave. Everyone gasped in shock and awe as Catherine appeared to be listening to something the rest of them were unable to hear.
“Oh, wasn’t that nice,” she said.
“What?” Jimmy asked with stunned eyes.
“He told me what you did for the Fletchers. He really liked them. Mr. Fletcher and his son planted him here when he was just a little sapling and helped him grow big and strong.” Catherine smiled at the backyard assembly and opened her arms wide. “So, who wants firsts?”
Ginger ran and dropped to her knees and the contest for who could squeeze the hardest began. Molly placed her wages on the little girl. Jimmy stood next in line. Molly helped Scout with Raven, knowing she would get her chance with Catherine in a bit. She was still unsure of how she would greet the little miracle worker.
Scout nodded to Molly as they moved toward the house. “I don’t know what Chase did to her. She was hysterical when we found her. Catherine used her powers and calmed her down, but who knows if that will last.”
Molly frowned. Catherine used her power whenever the little girl saw fit, but Molly guessed she was a better choice if Chase was the other alternative. Images of the possible things Raven suffered through sent shivers racing through Molly’s arms and legs. She half considered putting her sweater back on and staying in the sunshine.
Jimmy came up behind them. “Let’s get her inside. Can I help carry her?”
Scout said, “No, I got her.”
Molly knew Scout was fading fast the way his legs wobbled climbing the three steps to the deck. She held the backdoor as he negotiated Raven through the narrow opening.
Jimmy followed. “Scout, I’m sorry if my delaying you caused this to happen to Raven. Thank you for finding Catherine.”
Scout hurried through the house and laid his sleeping girlfriend on the red couch. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sorry I ran out like I did. I either got really lucky or someone up there gave me a big hand. I was crazy to go alone.”
“Love makes us do funny things,” Jimmy said.
Scout caressed Raven’s brow. “Was that a song?”
“Who knows?”
Molly stood behind them, watching Raven’s chest rise and fall in her sleep. When a little hand slipped into hers, she looked down into eyes of blue sky. Catherine guided her back into the kitchen.
“Are you mad at me for what I did to you?” the little girl asked.
“No, I guess not. Thinking back on it, I’m angry mostly with myself. But it was like I was trapped inside someone I didn’t want to be and couldn’t find my way out.”
Catherine nodded. “I was in a position where there was little choice. I guess I left you with little choice as well. I’m sorry. If I had done nothing to help you, then you would be stuck with Chase—and probably worse off than that poor girl.”
“What happened to her?”
“Chase happened, only this time she saw how truly evil he is because she had time away from his power and influence.”
“He’s like how I used to be, right?”
Catherine reached up and brushed Molly’s cheek. “You were never like him.”
Molly knelt down and opened her arms. Catherine walked into them, tenderly wrapping her little embrace around Molly. Molly smiled as Catherine’s warmth seeped into her, giving her courage and strength and hope.
“It’s okay, Raven,” Scout said from the front room. “You’re safe.”
Catherine and Molly rejoined the others. Raven sat up with a nervous flicker in her eyes, scanning the faces in the room. “Is he here? Where is he?”
“He’s not here,” Scout said. “You’re safe. He’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”
Raven’s forehead knotted, then her eyes cleared and she shook her head. “I’m not talking about Chase—Hunter. Is Hunter here?”
“No,” Jimmy said.
Raven looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I held out as long as I could.”
Molly’s breath caught in her chest and the shivering returned. She was suddenly very afraid for Hunter.
“I told Chase that Hunter was meeting Patrick for breakfast.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Hunter
The industrial warehouse that was the Chicken Shack smelled like death. His decision was made after plucking the second chicken—Hunter hated his new job.
Chickens clucked freely inside a fenced area, and then someone would place one of the birds on a bloody stump and lop off its head with a hatchet. The headless chickens would run circles until its body figured out something was missing. Finally somebody would tote the feathery carcasses over in a plastic bin to Hunter’s table for plucking.
Hunter understood the basic needs of a town, like food, water and shelter. He never considered the pluckers. Back home, he left the plucking to the other kids while he traveled the countryside, seeing different sights with each new mile.
He reached for his third dead chicken and gripped the soft feathers, rolling his wrist and removing the feathers from the skin the way the other pluckers had taught him. Hunter knew he would soon go crazy if he spent every day doing this monotonous routine.
Billy swept by with his broom, gathering what feathers he could into little piles on the sticky floor. He hummed a happy tune, performing his pointless job. A water hose and steel brush were the only tools capable of scouring up these bloody feathers.
Hunter scowled when he noticed that Billy was the youngest kid in the place. Billy should be doing something else besides odd jobs in this house of death.
“How do you like it so far?” Billy asked.
Hunter wiped sweat from his brow. He jutted out his bottom lip and blew a feather off his forehead. “It’s a blast.”
The comment earned a round of chuckles at the table. “Beats the Hog House,” someone said. Hunter joined the chorus of agreements before all heads bowed back to their chickens.
Billy leaned into Hunter. “I asked Phillip about oceans and continents.”
“Who’s Phillip?”
“He’s the smartest guy I know.” Billy swept s
ome more at the pile gathering around Hunter’s feet. “He said you were right about all that stuff. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
Hunter smiled. “That’s all right. It’s not your fault nobody’s taught you anything. Maybe during lunch I can show you a place where you can learn about other stuff.”
“Really?” Billy’s face beamed pure pleasure.
“Sure, why not.”
A pear-shaped kid waddled over with his beady eyes sunken behind massive cheeks. The boy’s dirty shirt crept over his belly button. He had an outie.
“Hey, you two quit screwing off and get back to work.”
“Right away, Phillip,” Billy said, furiously sweeping the sticky feathers.
Hunter refused to budge. He eyed Phillip until the fat kid turned around and headed back the way he came. Phillip climbed atop his stool next to a wall, crossed his arms and continued his search for slackers.
“That’s the smartest guy you know?” Hunter laughed, shook his head and finished plucking his chicken.
Billy fidgeted with the broom handle and glanced over his shoulder. “Patrick says to listen to Phillip, so I listen.”
Hunter tossed his naked chicken into the plastic bin, and claimed another dead bird. “Where is Patrick?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t gotten here yet. He pretty much comes and goes whenever he wants. That’s why Phillip’s in charge.”
“Why? Are they related or something?”
That brought a round of warier chuckles, but everyone stayed focused on their plucking.
“Be careful saying those kinds of things. The wrong person might overhear and you don’t want to get fired, or worse.” Billy dumped a dustpan full of feathers in the trash. “Phillip’s dad owned a chicken farm. That’s why he’s in charge. Phillip taught us what to do.”
“Then what does Patrick do?”
“He likes chopping off chicken heads,” Billy said. He grabbed a plastic bin of plucked carcasses and transported them to another part of the building.
• • •
A nearby church bell rang, signaling lunchtime. Phillip passed out casino chips and told everyone to hurry back when the bell rang again or they could find a different job. The last thing Hunter felt like doing was eating. He considered checking in with Jimmy, but that was too far away and he might not make it back in time. He decided to educate Billy instead.