by BJ Hoff
His hands felt boneless. He was shaking so badly by the time he took the reins he could scarcely hold onto them.
It was a clear night but bitter cold with a sharp wind. Their breath steamed as they headed for home, and no matter how tightly she burrowed into her coat, Maggie couldn’t seem to get warm.
Ever since the night Billy and Orrin had jumped her on the way to Summer’s, she didn’t like being out after dark. At least not alone. Tonight wasn’t so bad, though, with Kenny and Pip on either side of her. Not that Pip would be much protection in a pickle, but his chatter helped to dispel her jitters.
Kenny didn’t have much to say for several minutes, but when Pip started trotting quite a ways ahead of them, he finally spoke up. “It’s a nice thing Mr. Stuart does, isn’t it? Making popcorn balls and all, and sending a gift bag home with us.”
Maggie nodded. “Seems like it would be a lot of work, though. Especially with him being so poorly.”
“Yeah,” Kenny said quietly. “It was a lot better, all of us being together without Gaffney or Macken there for a change. Don’t you think?”
“I sure didn’t miss them.” Probably her attitude was neither Christian nor charitable, but as far as Maggie was concerned, school in general would be a lot better without Billy or Orrin.
Pip had found a fallen branch and was now pretending it was a sword as he jabbed it toward the trees and barbed wire fence along the road.
“Hey, Pip—slow down a little,” Kenny warned him. “You’re getting too far ahead.”
The boy glanced around with an ornery grin. “Let’s go this way,” he said, pointing to the dirt run veering off from the road. “It’s shorter.”
Kenny looked at Maggie. She was cold and getting colder. Cutting through the Tapscott farm would save them at least ten minutes, though the path was rougher that way. “I guess that’d be okay,” she said.
Seeing that they were going to follow, Pip took off again.
“Do you think Christmas vacation will make a difference with Billy and Orrin?” Maggie said.
“What do you mean?”
“I was thinking that maybe after a few days of being out of school, they’ll forget about us and lose interest. Then when we go back, they might leave us alone.”
“Maybe,” he said, not sounding in the least convinced.
“Do you ever wonder,” Maggie said, as much to herself as to him, “what makes some people so mean and others so good?”
“Not really.”
“I do. I mean, think about the difference in someone like Billy Macken compared to Mr. Stuart. What do you think accounts for Mr. Stuart being as good a man as he is and Billy being so completely different?”
“My dad would say ‘bad blood.’”
“What’s that mean?”
Kenny shrugged. “He says some people are just born bad.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s possible. But I’m more inclined to believe they have a choice in how they turn out.”
“According to Mr. Stuart, there’s a choice in just about everything.”
Maggie noticed Pip had taken to running again, and he’d gone a considerable distance ahead of them. “Pip! You wait for us. Mr. Stuart said you’re to stay with Kenny and me.”
But Pip didn’t wait. As if he hadn’t heard Maggie, the boy kept going, still brandishing his tree branch and conquering imaginary enemies.
They ducked under the fence that outlined Samuel Tapscott’s farm and then picked up their pace. After a couple of minutes more, they came out near the place where the road narrowed and branched off, with the left fork going toward the railroad tracks and the right, which they would follow home, leading to the tipple and running the rest of the way through town.
Suddenly, an owl hooted. It sounded close by. Maggie stopped to look, as did Kenny. It was perched on the branch of a tree right beside the road, looking down at them with a bored stare.
It hooted again, and Maggie laughed. “I think he’s telling us to go away and let him sleep.”
“Nah. They mostly sleep through the day,” said Kenny. “He’s probably just waiting for supper to come along. A nice fat mouse or a rat, maybe.”
Maggie pulled a face. “Eww. That’s disgusting, Kenny!”
“Not if you’re an owl.”
As they left the path and turned onto the road, Maggie suddenly realized that Pip was nowhere to be seen.
“Pip! Come back here with me and Kenny!” she called out.
There was no reply, but Maggie wasn’t alarmed. Not until she called twice more, still with no response. This time Kenny yelled for him too, but the only reply was silence.
They had reached the fork in the road and stood looking around. Both of them gave a shout and then another.
Nothing. No answer. No Pip.
Maggie’s insides began to tremble. “How did he disappear so fast?”
Kenny looked, first toward the left branch of the road, into the dark trees that ran the entire length of the railroad tracks, and then to the right, where the tipple rose above the road.
“Pip!” he shouted again. “Where are you?”
“I don’t understand how he got so far ahead,” Maggie said, her voice breaking.
Kenny didn’t answer, but stood listening, so still he looked to be holding his breath.
Maggie felt sick. Pip was just a little kid. A little kid with one hand.
“Kenny—” she looked toward the tracks. “Do you suppose it’s true, that there are bears in the woods?”
“I’ve been back there plenty of times,” he said, not looking at her, “and I’ve never yet seen a bear. Besides, he probably didn’t even go that way.”
“But he might have,” Maggie said. “We have to find him, Kenny!”
“He’ll come back in a minute. He probably just saw a dog or something and chased after it. He’ll be all right.”
But Maggie could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t believe what he said.
“Besides,” he added, “we don’t know which way he went.”
Maggie frowned. “We should have been watching. We shouldn’t have let him run off that way. If he’s over there—” she motioned toward the trees —“he might get lost.”
After a moment they continued up the road a short ways, stopping beneath the tipple where its track and dump shafts crossed the road overhead. The aging structure butted right into the side of the hill, its slightly crooked hoist leaning toward town.
In front of the slag pile nearby squatted an old abandoned coal car. In the shadows of the hulking tipple and tramway, it looked like an enormous ugly bug.
They stood looking all around, seeing nothing. The night was darker than before, a cloud having pocketed the thin slice of moon. More clouds were gathering too, swallowing up the stars a few at a time. The wind had picked up even more and seemed to whip right through Maggie’s coat.
“What are we going to do?” she said. “We have to find him. We can’t go any farther without him.”
“We’ll find him,” said Kenny.
“How?” Maggie was close to panic now. “We don’t know where to look. Maybe we’d best split up. One of us can go over by the tracks—” she swallowed at the thought—“and the other look around the rail yard.”
“No!” Kenny shook his head. “We stay together.”
Relieved to hear him say it but ashamed of her own cowardice, Maggie protested. “He can’t be very far off. We’d better split up.”
“No, I said. We’ll look over here first. Start yelling for him again.”
They circled the rail yard and checked behind the tipple and the toolshed and other buildings, all the while calling out Pip’s name. Finally, they started across the road toward the trees.
As they went, Maggie saw Kenny pull something from his pocket and close his hand over it.
“What’s that?”
Not looking at her, he said, “Watch your step here. There’s a bunch
of rocks and broken track.”
“Kenny? What is that?”
Still keeping his gaze straight ahead, he finally answered her. “A pocketknife.”
Maggie stumbled, and he caught her hand. “I told you to watch out.”
“Why do you have a knife?”
“I just do,” he said. “Let’s call him again.”
They stopped, both of them shouting Pip’s name as loud as they could, over and over again.
Maggie felt lightheaded with fear. “Where could he be, Kenny?”
“Don’t worry. Just keep calling him. Once he hears us, he’ll come.”
Pip didn’t come.
But someone else did.
Twenty-Seven
The Cabin
The bravest heart no more is brave.
William James Linton
From his hiding place among the big pine trees, Pip watched the two boys coming across the road from the tipple. They were headed right for him, but he knew they couldn’t see him.
Not yet.
These were the bad boys who didn’t like him. They made fun of him when they thought Mr. Stuart wasn’t looking, making faces and pulling their sleeves down over their hands. They didn’t like Mr. Stuart, either. When his back was turned, they made fun of him too. Other times they looked at him as if they’d like to hurt him real bad.
He didn’t know what to do. He’d gotten off the path somewhere when he ran ahead of Maggie and Kenny, and instead of coming out on the road to the tipple, he’d ended up in the woods on the other side. Now he knew where he was, but he wasn’t about to come out where those two boys could see him.
Maggie and Kenny had come into the woods too, calling for him, and they didn’t sound very far away. He was afraid to answer, though, for fear the bad boys would find him first. But if he didn’t answer, they would hear Maggie and Kenny and probably find all of them.
He would have to move deeper into the trees. They were coming his way, whispering behind cupped hands, stopping every few steps and standing really still, as if listening, trying to tell which direction Maggie and Kenny’s voices were coming from.
He glanced behind him, and then he began to snake backward on his belly, watching the boys as he moved. A branch snapped from somewhere nearby, and Pip stopped, not breathing, waiting…
They stopped, turned, and looked his way.
Oh, no, no, no, don’t let them see me… please, no…
Just then the wind carried Maggie’s voice, and then Kenny’s, through the trees. They were close, real close! Pip wanted to stay where he was so they’d find him, but feared the other two would find him first.
The boys started in walking again. Fear pounded at Pip’s heart, and his breath stuck in his throat. He scrambled to his knees, clamping a fist against his mouth to keep from crying out.
Then he saw them. Kenny and Maggie, heading directly toward him, though he knew they didn’t see him. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed movement from the bad boys. In that instant, they began to run, fast, their feet pounding the ground as they crashed through the trees toward Maggie and Kenny, tackling them and throwing them to the ground.
Maggie screamed and Kenny yelled. Pip bit down on his knuckles to keep from crying out. Again he flattened himself on his stomach, fighting to silence his ragged breathing.
If they heard him, they would see him, for he was no more than a few feet away from where they stood. He mustn’t be captured! If they caught him too, he wouldn’t be able to get help for Maggie and Kenny—and the gooseflesh rising on his arms told him they were going to need help and need it soon.
Pip fought to swallow the thick taste of terror rising up from his throat, struggled against giving in to the wave of panic slamming through him. Shame scalded his skin and squeezed his chest. Should he break free of his hiding place and try to fight them? But he was only nine and puny. And he had only one hand. How much help would he be?
Something held him back, warning him to wait, to watch and remain silent until he could get away and go for help. He huddled against the ground, feeling as if the quiet of the night would surely give up the sound of his breathing and make known his presence.
In the spiny shadows of the pine trees, with only the faintest strands of light filtering through the branches, the two big boys looked like dark phantoms as they wrestled Maggie and Kenny to their feet and then began to drag them over the forest floor.
Maggie screamed, and then again, and they stopped. One of the boys pulled a cloth of some kind from his pocket and tied it over her mouth. Kenny was yelling at them, and the bigger of the two hit him, hard, with the back of his hand, telling him to shut up or they would beat him “to a pulp” and his “girlfriend with him.”
Pip’s stomach cramped. He inhaled the spicy odor of pine, moistened his lips, and tasted the soil dusted upon them from the ground. He had to sneeze but pinched his nose to stop it. Carefully, he craned his neck, trying to see where they were taking Maggie and Kenny.
But the trees were too dense, the night too dark to see anything other than what was right in front of him. He would have to follow them.
He stayed low, going at a crouch so they wouldn’t spot him if they looked back. The ground was hard and littered with rocks and fallen branches. Once he stumbled and smashed his toe against a rock. He had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out.
They were moving fast, stamping through the woods, whipping the branches out of their way. A darkened shape suddenly came into view, and Pip saw now where they were headed. About halfway down a slope of knobby ground he could make out a darkened shape that looked like a cabin of some sort.
When they reached it, the boys stopped. Pip ducked down just in time as they stood looking all around. Then one elbowed the door open, and the other shoved Kenny and Maggie inside.
Pip crept as close as he dared, but he couldn’t see anything. The cabin was as dark as the night, and now that they were inside, he had no way of knowing what they were doing. Still crouching, he moved in a little closer, then stopped behind a large shrub.
He could see that the front window was broken, with only a piece or two of glass left hanging on the frame.
He heard a sound like an animal in pain, and then he realized it was Maggie.
Pip stared at the cabin, shaking with fear, his heart drumming against his chest.
He knew now that whatever those boys were up to with Maggie and Kenny, it was something wicked, something dangerous.
A feeling like something crawling along his spine froze him in place. Whatever evil was creeping about the woods had now found the darkened cabin and forced its way inside.
Twenty-Eight
In the Woods
I see black dragons mount the sky,
I see earth yawn beneath my feet.
James Clarence Mangan
They had gagged her, silencing her ability to scream, hindering her breathing. But once she realized where they were, Maggie made an effort to call for help anyway.
Nothing came out except a guttural cry, like that of an animal.
Fear, and the effort to make a sound, plus the tightness of the gag, made her feel as if she would faint at any moment. No! Can’t pass out…have to fight…have to fight as hard as we can…have to get away from them…
Once inside, Billy shoved her so hard she hit the wall and then fell to the floor. Again she tried to cry out, but she could manage no sound except a strangled noise in her throat.
They hadn’t gagged Kenny, and he warned them now, in a choked, enraged voice that didn’t sound like him, “You’re crazy! You’re both crazy! Don’t you know you can go to jail for this?”
There was a thud and then something cracked. Kenny bellowed in pain.
“You broke my arm! You maniac! You broke my arm!”
He moaned, and Maggie saw him, little more than a dark shape, slide down the wall and collapse into a heap beside her. On instinct, she reached to touch his arm, and he yelled.
She pulled
her hand back, unable to tell him she was sorry, unable to help him. She couldn’t help it; she started to cry. Her shoulder still hurt from where Billy had yanked her arm behind her. She was terrified, for herself and for Kenny. They were trapped. And where was Pip? Was he lost somewhere, unable to find his way home? How had they ended up in this nightmare?
Lord, I can’t see anything in here. It’s too dark…I can’t even see Kenny’s face…but You can see us, I know You can…help us, Lord…get us out of here, get us away from them…Kenny’s right, they’re crazy…they’re crazymean, and we don’t have a chance against them, whatever they’re plotting to do…help us…please help us!
She could feel herself falling into panic, tumbling down into a pit of terror where she wouldn’t be able to think clearly or help herself… or Kenny.
She mustn’t lose control, she mustn’t…she had a sense that they would hurt Kenny even worse if she made them mad…whatever happened, she mustn’t make them mad…
Kenny knew he was close to passing out from the pain. Nothing had ever hurt this bad before. His arm was on fire. It felt as if someone had rammed an iron rod down through it and then twisted it in the wrong direction.
He couldn’t black out—he couldn’t. He had to stay conscious for Maggie. He had to try to keep them from hurting her. Maybe if he could keep their attention on him they’d leave her alone.
He was lying to himself, and he knew it. They wanted to hurt Maggie in a different way, especially Billy. He’d seen it in his eyes. Billy was the worst. Orrin was just another bully, but Billy Macken was something else. If there was such a thing as evil on foot, Billy was it.
He hadn’t been all that afraid of them until tonight. He always knew when they came after him that he was going to get hurt, but he still hadn’t been afraid. He just braced himself against the pain until it was over. He was more afraid of the pain than of them.
But this was different. Tonight he was afraid of what they were going to do, because tonight wasn’t the same. He’d seen something when they were still outside, when there had been enough light from the moon to see their faces. He’d looked into Billy’s eyes and had to fight not to shrivel up inside at what he saw there.