Gilchrist: A Novel

by Christian Galacar

  Grace Delancey pretended the white painted line was a gymnast’s balance beam. Her arms were out straight at her sides as she walked heel to toe down Town Farm Road in her blue plaid skirt, tipping from side to side, losing and regaining her balance. It was a silly thing to do, but she liked being silly. Recently, she had begun to feel her childhood slipping away from her, and while she understood it was the natural progression of things, she didn’t like it very much. The reasons were many, but one in particular stuck out: everything got so damn serious when a person became an adult. Mainly, people took themselves too seriously, and that just seemed stupid. Growing up wasn’t the stupid part—that was unavoidable. No, the stupid thing was that people acted as if they got serious for no other reason than they thought they were supposed to.

  These types of trivial games—pretending she was a gymnast or other childish things—were something she did only when she was alone. It was her own way of making sure she never took herself too seriously. Perhaps, in a way, she was holding on to the childhood foundation upon which all future versions of her would be based. If she fed it every once in a while, watered it a little from time to time, it wouldn’t die completely and would always be a part of her.

  A crow alighted on the road ahead of her and started to pick at the flattened carcass of a dead squirrel. Another swooped down beside it. They both cawed, and Grace thought it was the sound of hazy summer days in New England.

  It was just before noon, and it was hot. Sweat stippled her forehead and upper lip. She should’ve worn something lighter. It was a long walk. What had she been thinking? She was on her way to the library to check out the last book on her summer reading list: The Sun Also Rises. She didn’t mind doing the reading, but she wasn’t thrilled about Hemingway. She thought his writing was a little boring, which was why she had saved that one for last.

  She was passing the Gilchrist Cemetery when she heard a car coming and stepped onto the grassy shoulder. In a deep place inside, she sensed a dark thing coming for her. Whatever it was, the little bit that remained of her fleeting childhood cowered at its looming presence. She turned to look behind her, and when she did, her heart sank.

  Not this… not right now.

  The whine and chug of the engine lowered as Ricky slowed and pulled up beside her. Hooch sat in the passenger’s seat, and for a split second, the look in his eyes made Grace’s stomach do an end-over-end roll. Hooch looked afraid. Uncomfortable.

  Something’s very wrong here, an internal voice warned.

  “Hey there, Gracie,” Ricky said, leaning out the window. “Where’re you headed?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Nowhere? I think I know that place.” Ricky laughed. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”

  “Leave me alone, Ricky.” She picked up her pace, but didn’t want to show him she was scared. Kids like him could smell fear, and it only seemed to make things worse. She didn’t even know what she was afraid of, but that same deep part of her advised that she should be.

  He prowled along beside her, the car barking at her each time he fed it a sip of fuel. “C’mon, where you headed?”

  “None of your business,” she said, eyes straight ahead.

  He flattened his tone to one of false sincerity, but acid still flowed beneath the surface. “What, are you still mad about the other day? Oh, come on. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anybody. Honest. Sometimes I just act like an idiot.”

  “You got that right.” Another internal warning quickly came on the heels of her comment: What are you doing? Don’t provoke him. He’s not someone to play with. She didn’t know why she had said it. Maybe because she was the daughter of the town’s police chief, and occasionally that made her feel a little untouchable. She knew that was a dangerous way to think, but she couldn’t always help it.

  “C’mon, Ricky. Let’s just go. This ain’t worth it,” Hooch said timidly.

  Ricky turned to him, and from the corner of her eye, Grace saw his face bend into a mean, twitchy scowl. “Shut the fuck up. Stop being such a fuckin pussy,” he said with a low, clenched-teeth hiss.

  Grace’s throat started to tighten. Her chest needled with budding fear as her vision went white in her periphery. Panic was coming. The crows in the road took flight as Ricky’s car approached them and passed over the roadkill.

  Leaning back out the window, Ricky said, “Just hop in. I won’t bite. It’s hot as hell out here. You wanna pass out on the side of the road? What kind of a guy would I be if I let that happen?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Then, hoping it might help her situation, she added: “I’m only going up to Rockhopper’s. I’m meeting my dad for lunch.”

  “That so? All right, then. Suit yourself.” Ricky started drumming the side of his car with his fingers. He looked her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. “Don’t say I never tried to do anything nice for you. Adios, Gracie.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” Grace said, aware that she sounded as though she were mocking him. She hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. It was just something she did when she was nervous.

  Ricky slunk back inside his car. “Fuckin bitch,” he said under his breath, but loud enough to be heard.

  Grace thought it was probably intentional, but she bit her tongue.

  He gave the Biscayne a full shot of throttle. The engine wound up; so loud that she could feel it in her chest. The tires spun and smoked. Ricky flew up the road, leaving two black streaks of burnt rubber on the asphalt.

  “Asshole!” she yelled after him when she thought he was out of range.

  Relief washed over her as he sped away. But the relief was short-lived. He slammed on the brakes a hundred feet up the road and squealed to a stop. He sat there for a moment, the smell of exhaust and bitter scorched rubber hanging heavy in the air. The crows had returned to pick at their carrion feast. And the fear she had felt washing away returned with them and was just as black.

  Why did you say that, Grace? He was gone, and you had to open your big, stupid mouth. You’ve done it now.

  She checked her surroundings to see if anybody else was around. She was alone and still at least a half mile from the library and a quarter mile to Rockhopper’s, where her father was not actually waiting to meet her for lunch. Town Farm Road was a beautiful drive, but it was beautiful because it ran through a desolate part of Gilchrist. Besides the cemetery, there was nothing but deep woods, with a canopy so thick the road often looked like a green tunnel.

  Run into the cemetery, that voice said. Who cares if you look stupid—you run. He is unpredictable and dangerous, and there is no one here to help you. You really think Christopher Collins, a kid who prefers the name Hooch, is going to stop anything Ricky starts? He is too scared of Ricky to help you. And guess what? He should be… and so should you.

  Grace was frozen. A heavy stone in her throat slowly settled into her stomach.

  Ricky’s car switched into reverse with a dreadful clunk. Then the transmission began to whine and moan as he backed up. Seventy-five feet. Fifty feet. Thirty. Twenty.

  And she just stood there, unable to act, regretting that she hadn’t just let him drive away without saying a word. What was he really going to do to her, though? She was the police chief’s daughter. But she wasn’t finding much comfort in that, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that offered her some sort of protection.

  She watched the rear end of his car grow bigger and meaner, its lightless taillights looking like a cold pair of eyes—a murderer’s eyes. She took another step back from the road and folded her arms.

  Please, God, let someone come along. Let me see one car come around that corner.

  If Ricky tried anything, if he got out of the car or tried to make her get in, Grace decided she would run. She was fast, and she doubted he would take chase, not on foot. He wouldn’t just leave his car sitting in the middle of the road.

  Or was she just being a scaredy-cat, as Beverly sometimes called her? A small par
t of her—a naïve, hopeful part—thought maybe she was. Maybe she was letting her imagination get the best of her. Ricky was a bit of bully, but he was probably all bark and no bite. Bullies often were.

  Then again, she thought, what the hell do I know at all…

  Ten feet from her, Ricky revved the engine, and the next thing she knew, the back of his car was pointed at her and coming fast. She tried to move out of the way, but a great force clipped her hip and knocked her to the ground. She scraped her elbow and her knee as she landed on her side in a patch of gravel. Before she could process what had happened, the brightest pain of her life exploded from her foot as Ricky ran it over. There was a loud crunch, followed by a pop, and white-silver stars burst across her vision. At some point she had started to scream, although it didn’t feel like her voice screaming at all. This couldn’t really be happening, not to her.

  The car had stopped, but her leg was still underneath it, between the front and back tire. The heat from the undercarriage wafted up her skirt, then hit her face. It smelled of gasoline and exhaust. She was on her side but managed to steal a glance down. Big mistake. Her left foot didn’t look the way it had when she’d woken up that morning. She couldn’t see the damage inside her shoe, but it felt wet and warm in there. Her ankle was already purple, and things looked shifted around in a peculiar way.

  Grace sobbed. “Oooow. Whyyy?”

  Hooch got out and ran around the back of the car. He stopped and laced his hands atop his head when he saw her lying there on the ground. “Oh man. Ricky, she’s hurt bad.” He looked at her, sincere regret on his face. “I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

  He knelt down and put his hand on her shoulder, but she snapped at him. “Get away from me! Don’t come near me!” Screaming made the pain flare.

  He jumped up. “Okay, okay. Relax. I only wanted to help.”

  The door opened, and Ricky stepped out. He hitched his pants and hawked a wad of phlegm onto the ground.

  Grace looked up at him. “Luh-leave m-me alone,” she said, and sniffled. She started to push herself away from the car so she wasn’t underneath it. Her whole body ached. “Wuh-what’s the matter with you? You hit me.”

  “I hit you?” Ricky said. “Oh, is that what that was? I thought it was a pothole.”

  Hooch went over to Ricky and spoke in a low voice with his back to Grace. “Jesus, man. What’d you do? You said you were just gonna scare her.”

  Ricky grinned. “Well, she looks plenty scared to me, doesn’t she?”

  He started toward her, but Hooch stepped in his way and put a hand on Ricky’s chest. Ricky glanced down at it, then back to Hooch. “Get your fuckin hand off me. You crazy? You want to spend the rest of your life wiping with a hook?”

  Hooch dropped his hand. “Sorry, Ricky. It’s just—”

  “Just what?”

  “I’ll say it was an accident. No matter what she tells anybody, I’ll say she’s lyin.”

  Ricky looked coldly at Hooch. “You saying I did this on purpose?”

  “No. I just meant… No.”

  Ricky broke the tension with a smile. “Don’t worry, Hoochy baby, we’re gonna help her. I’m not an animal.” He reached up, patted Hooch’s cheek, and went around him.

  With a seasick look on his face, Hooch turned and watched him go.

  I told you he couldn’t stop him, Grace’s internal friend said.

  She lay on her back, looking up at a sea of complex, blue polygons in the canopy of trees. She was dizzy. The world was spinning. Two hot tears rolled down the sides of her face. She was only vaguely aware of Ricky coming toward her.

  “You all right, Gracie?” he said. “Me and your old man had an interesting talk this morning. He tell you about that yet?”

  She looked over just in time to see Ricky’s boot lifting off the ground. Then the heel was coming down. It grew and it grew, crowding her vision until there was only black tread. The crows cawed. A flash of red blinded her as the kick landed.

  Then there was nothing.

  4

  Grace woke up on her side on a hard, uneven surface. She heard moving water. Her head throbbed. As she came further out of unconsciousness, all the pain spots in her body began to register, but her foot was by far the worst. She opened her eyes as best she could. One was blurry; the other offered a slit of vision. It was swollen almost completely shut. She tried to move her arms, but they were bound behind her back.

  Somewhere nearby, two people were talking, but she didn’t focus on what they were saying. Her mind was still rattled, but it was coming back to her.

  He must’ve hit me and knocked me out. How long have I been unconscious? I left the house after an early lunch, but now it feels like afternoon. And oh God, did Ricky do anything to me while I was out?

  She didn’t think Hooch was the kind to do that sort of thing. But Ricky… Had he…?

  Without moving, she focused her mind on where in might hurt, tried to see if she could feel anything. To her relief, she felt nothing to suggest she had been raped. Then her mind played devil’s advocate: Not yet, you haven’t. Who says this is over?

  The last thought made her sick to her stomach.

  She tried not to move too conspicuously. She didn’t want to alert anyone that she had woken up. She looked around with her one good eye, trying to figure out where she was. She lay beside a river, probably the Gilchrist River. If that was the case, she had a pretty good idea of her location. She craned her neck back slowly until she could see up the river. In the distance, a black line stretched across the water. Silver Bridge. Sometimes kids went there to jump off, but right now it looked empty. If she had seen someone, she might’ve screamed for help.

  The sound of talking grew louder and clearer. She moved her head down again, looking past the tips of her feet. Hooch and Ricky were about fifty feet away.

  “Why’d we bring her here? You said we was goin to the hospital. I don’t want nothin to do with this.”

  “Calm the fuck down. I told you I’m gonna let her go,” Ricky said. “I’m just giving her a good scare, that’s all. Let’s have a little fun first.”

  “You’re crazy. A good scare? Jesus, man.” Hooch laughed humorlessly. “You ran her over with your fucking car. Her foot is busted. You wanted to scare her? Well, I think she got the message. God, man, she’s the police chief’s daughter. Do you think she’s just gonna go home and say she sprained her ankle? And look at her face. You didn’t have to kick her like that.”

  “Don’t worry, she ain’t gonna say a word. We’ll make sure of that,” Ricky said.

  “No way. Forget it, Ricky. This is too far. You went too far. You gotta let her go, otherwise…” Hooch hesitated. Grace heard the meek defiance in his voice and doubted very much that he was going to be able to help her out of this. Ricky was a wolf, and Chris Collins was a domesticated little pup. “Otherwise, I’m not gonna cover for you. I’m not going to jail for this.”

  A moment of silence passed. A moment of contemplation. Ricky was thinking. Grace started twisting her wrists back and forth to see if she could loosen the knot. It was too tight. Since her injured foot made it impossible to run, she really had only one option: she had to get her hands free and somehow hurt Ricky. There were plenty of rocks around her. Maybe if she could grab one, she could get him in the head with it. If she did that, then she would have an easier time appealing to Hooch to get help. All of it felt so impossible, though. Too risky. Perhaps letting the situation play out was the best move, a safe part of her suggested. Maybe it was like earlier: if she hadn’t called him an asshole as he had driven off, he probably would’ve kept driving. So maybe if she didn’t struggle, he would eventually let her go.

  Devil’s advocate again: You don’t really believe that, do you? This ends one way. Ricky made up his mind a long time ago.

  “Relax,” Ricky said. “No one is going to jail.”

  “This is kidnapping, Ricky. That’s r
eal-deal prison stuff.”

  The sound of the river filled another moment of contemplation.

  “All right, fine, you pussy,” Ricky said, his tone shifting. “You want to let her go, we’ll let her go. You really think they’ll buy it if we say it was an accident?”

  This sudden change in Ricky seemed to catch Hooch off guard.

  “I… I don’t know. Maybe. But if we take her to a hospital, I’ll vouch for you. Say I saw it all. I’ll say she was walkin in the road and you hit her on accident. It was her fault, and she wasn’t payin attention.”

  “What if she says we’re lying?” Ricky folded his arms as if he were really concerned about these problems.

  “It’ll be two against one,” Hooch said. “They’ll have no choice but to believe us.”

  Even in her delirious state, Grace thought it sounded like just about the dumbest conversation she had ever heard. The logic was silly. And that didn’t sit well with her, because while she didn’t like Ricky, she knew he wasn’t stupid. Crazy, sure. But stupid? No way. And she knew well that his was the most dangerous kind of insincerity.

  “Well… all right. That’s a stretch, if you ask me,” Ricky said. “But if you think it’ll work and you promise to get my back…”

  “I do. I promise. Swear it, man.”

  Ricky unfolded his arms. “So go on, then. Let’s get her back in the car. But if I lose my license because of this, you better get used to driving.”

  “Really? No problem, man,” Hooch said, sounding a touch surprised.

  “Really. You’re right. I wasn’t thinkin,” Ricky said. “I’m too pretty for jail, anyway.”

  Hooch laughed uneasily. “Okay. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.”

  They started toward Grace, Ricky leading the way with a cocky gait. He bent down, scooped up a rock, and chucked it in the river as if it were just another day in the park. Just a couple of pals down by the river, skipping stones. He picked up another and tossed it again, dropping back a little until he and Hooch were side by side.

  When they were about thirty feet out, Grace closed her eyes. She didn’t want them to know she was awake. The footsteps came closer. Every few seconds, a rock splashed in the water. Then she heard a sharp crack, followed by a grunt and a thick rumple. Instinct got the best of her. She opened her eyes again—and started to scream.