PINELIGHTforkindle

by Jillian Peery

  Beneath the towering castle clock

  A state of darkness will unlock

  The owls of time will take their flight

  When evil seeps into the night.

  The next page had the same dried liquid marks, smudging all of the writing except for the first two lines.

  On high tides will the ocean bring

  The nightingale who’s lost her wings.

  The poem stopped there, and so did the rest of the book. The other pages were completely blank other than the colorful red stains.

  Every class seemed to whiz by—the bell would ring as soon as I had gotten comfortable in my plastic chair, and then I would silently walk down the hall to the next class. I didn’t talk to anyone, I didn’t meet Jean in our usual greeting spots, I didn’t sit with anyone at lunch, and I didn’t stop by my locker. I simply kept my first-period books with me and walked down the crowded halls of the school, like a zombie, to each class. I was going through the motions just to get through the day—just so I could get home and try to figure things out. The only things on my mind were Erik, Maytide, and the book of poems. I couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

  On the ride home, the silver sky began to shower the road with a light mist. I was having trouble concentrating on Jean’s daily ramblings. Normally, I was considered a good listener. I always took in her dramatic stories and gave perfectly acceptable feedback, but ever since the fight with Erik—ever since he left—my world was a muffled mess. All I could think about was the last day I saw him. His words still lingered in my mind. His touch still tingled on my skin. And now, after meeting Maytide—after reading the book—I felt completely disconnected from the world I thought I knew. I was still trying to take it all in.

  Jean turned right onto the long, bumpy road that stretched to our house and then killed the engine of her MINI Cooper. I was still staring at the windshield wipers when they came to a halt in the middle of the windshield. Jean broke my daze.

  “Earth to Clara.”

  “Yeah?”

  Jean raised both eyebrows and shot me one of her notorious looks. She only gave this look when she knew she’d been ignored. “I’m not really used to talkin’ to myself. It makes for a long drive.”

  “Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Stop apologizing.” Her eyebrows dropped to a more serious shape, and then she turned in her seat to face me. “You know, you’re startin’ to worry me. I wish you’d tell me what you’re thinkin’. You say you hate Erik, but I can tell you miss him.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “So you’d rather sit and think about him?”

  “No. Jean—look, I don’t understand what happened with Erik. I’m beginning to think I never will. So, let me figure this out on my own.” My tone came out snappy.

  I turned to open the car door, but paused when Jean’s voice cut through the car.

  “Clara,” she said. I moved my head just enough to see her worried expression.

  “I’m your friend, remember?”

  “I know, and you always will be. Just give me space on this one.” I pushed the door open and slid out with my backpack in hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine in a few weeks.” We both forced a fake smile while the small car woke from its short-lived nap. In seconds, she was rolling down the highway and I was heading home—alone, through the soft rain. This was becoming an annoying reoccurrence.

  -8-

  RUN

  My attention focused on the Coupe. Our white ’65 Mustang Coupe was parked next to the house, under the shadow of the giant cypress tree that overlooked my bedroom window. The sun had already moved to its resting place behind the blue and gray clouds, leaving only a few beams of light to illuminate the Coupe and the newly glossed front yard. Alice is home already? Strange. Maybe she was able to get out of work early for our weekend road trip. That would be a very unexpected, but pleasant surprise for the both of us. I really wanted to pick her brain—to see if she knew anything about Erik or Maytide or the book. Anything.

  From a distance, the shadows hung over the house and Coupe, hiding the peeling paint and giving both a youthful, more restored appearance. It was a good look for both. As I neared the front porch, I noticed Alice’s heart-shaped keychain, the one that held keys to everything imaginable, next to the prickly welcome mat. I took my first step onto the porch. There was a loud shattering sound inside the house, followed by another shatter. My skin ran cold and my heart thudded hard and fast against my rib cage. I was momentarily paralyzed by the sound. Something was wrong.

  “She’s protecting her,” said a low, raspy voice. “She’s not going to tell him where it is.”

  “Forget about the woman. Let him deal with her,” a woman replied. She spoke with an unusual accent, far from being Southern. Her dialect was crisp and proper, but harsh all the same. “We will find the book and bring back the girl, as instructed. No exceptions.”

  When I looked through the window, my heart sank further into the pit of my stomach. There were countless books and papers covering the living room floor. Erik was in the middle, frantically shoveling through one of our many built-in bookcases. He was wearing his sunglasses.

  A tall red-haired woman stood to his left, adding to the pile by flinging knickknacks from the ledge of the fireplace. She matched Erik, wearing dark clothes and sunglasses.

  I felt the stinging fear like I had felt in my dream. I tried to grasp the concept of what was happening. Erik was back. He was in our house. He was not alone. Where is Alice? I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard something heavy fall to the floor near the window. The house was being wrecked.

  I glued myself to the outside wall of the house and then slowly bent down until my butt sat against the damp porch. This can’t be happening. I reminded myself to breathe. Is this the danger I was warned about? I would never forgive myself if anything happened to Alice. I had to get inside. I had to find her.

  I was afraid one of them would hear me, but I was able to grab Alice’s keys and glide through the door undetected. Keeping my body as close to the wall as possible, I slid into the wedge between the staircase and the wall of the next room and then squatted in the shadows. I raised my head slightly to peek through the space between the wooden rails.

  They were moving toward the kitchen, to make a bigger mess, I presumed. Cabinets opened, and then pots banged against the kitchen floor. This was my chance to get upstairs—to look for Alice. I had no clue what constituted a good plan—this just seemed like my only option.

  I crept up the entire flight of stairs without being heard. I ran straight to Alice’s room. Her room had been turned upside down. Clothes. Papers. Books. Photos. Pillows. Everything was tossed on the floor. But there was no Alice. I ran to her bathroom—no Alice. I tugged open her closet door—no Alice. Maybe she was in my room. I quietly tiptoed my way out of her bedroom, but paused just before I made it to my room.

  He saw me. He met my frightened eyes, looking pleased to see that I was standing at the top of the stairs, frozen like a deer in headlights. I had to tell my body to move. Just move. Move. Move, now! The words came out in the form of a meager grunt as I sprinted toward the door to my bedroom.

  “She’s here!” I heard him scream as he trampled up the steps.

  He got up the stairs faster than I anticipated. I slammed the door and turned the lock just in time. My belongings had been tossed around like a tornado had touched down—all my posters were ripped from the wall. I waded through my things until I reached the window. Still, no Alice.

  I flung open the window and heaved myself to the veranda. I’m not sure how I managed to get to the ground so fast, not sure if I jumped or fell, but either way I landed on the metal roof of the Coupe.

  I rolled to the side of the car and yanked at the door handle. Thankfully the car was left unlocked—the key pushed right into the ignition. I turned the engine over again and again. It groaned, but it wouldn’t crank. I smelled gas. I had
flooded the engine.

  A loud thud came from the metal roof of the Coupe. Erik had followed me down—he was on the car. He was grinning when he looked down through the windshield. We were only separated by glass. Just glass. He knew that, and I knew that. I frantically slapped the door locks down. I stomped the pedal to the floor and twisted the key again—the car finally rumbled to life. My foot slid from the clutch, causing the car to jump forward. The wheels spun mud and gravel everywhere, but it didn’t matter. I was moving.

  I kept my foot flat against the pedal and jerked right on the steering wheel—the car soared around the old cypress, fishtailing inches away from the large tree trunk. I was taken aback by the excitement—with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I almost felt light-headed. I knew he was still on the car; I heard him pound against the metal. The woman started to chase after us, her hair bouncing as she ran from the porch. She was fast, really fast.

  The gears of the transmission grunted and grinded as I accelerated down our dirt road. I steered into every pothole, hoping to see him fly from the car. His arm slipped to the windshield, and I could tell that he was scuffling for a better hold. But he still held on. I had one more shot to lose him. If I could turn hard enough onto the freeway, I might just sling him off.

  I could see the highway coming up in the distance. I fastened my seat belt and held the steering wheel for dear life. I fumbled with the clutch and shifted once more before shooting the RPM into the red. I used both hands to cut hard onto the highway.

  His body flew over the windshield, splintering the glass down the middle and bouncing off the side of the car. I had won.

  My hands wouldn’t stop shaking while I sped along the misty highway. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Why are they after me? Was Alice kidnapped? My mind couldn’t wrap around either idea. We didn’t own anything of real value, and Alice didn’t have an enemy in the world. What did they do with her? What do they want? And why are they after me? Think. Think.

  I needed help. I didn’t have a cell phone, and the nearest phone was across the river. I didn’t see them behind me anymore—I could make it.

  The mist thickened to a hard rain. Of course. I felt blindly for the lever to turn on the wipers, then flipped on the headlights. I just need to concentrate on driving. Focus. The speedometer was steadily increasing. Fifty mph. Fifty-five mph. Sixty mph. I would have help in no time, I thought. But I was wrong.

  My eyes slowly fluttered opened, but all I could see was an upside-down world. There was a loud ringing in my ears and pressure building in my head. I looked up. My hair dangled from my head and rested on the ceiling that was battered and beaten into the muddy earth. I looked to the shattered driver’s side window. Rain pounded in and formed puddles on the metal ceiling. I glanced up at my white-knuckled hands. My hands were bleeding now, but were still clinging to the grooves in the leather steering wheel. I loosened my grip and slid my shaky hands along my sides. No broken bones, but a nice whelp had already formed on my ribs where the floor shift had detached and pushed against my side. I was still strapped against the leather seat. I reached to my right side and forced my thumb into the release button—nothing happened. I yanked the seat belt while I jabbed at the release—nothing. The belt was jammed.

  Only seconds ago, I had slammed on the brakes too fast and jerked the steering wheel too hard. I had flipped the Coupe off the road and rolled clear down the ditch. But why? Erik had been in the middle of the road with the girl, perched on a black and silver motorcycle, blocking my way out. They were just sitting there in the rain—head turned sideways with their black shades in place. How did they catch up to me? It didn’t matter now. I needed to get loose. I needed to get out of the car. I needed to run.

  I pulled at the seat belt, throwing the weight of my body into it, until something snapped. I didn’t take time to see what had broken I just grabbed my bag and crawled my way out of the metal heap. My side was hurting now.

  I took a step away from the car to look through the rain. I didn’t see them. I didn’t see anyone. I took another step away from the car and used my hands to shield my eyes from the rain. That’s when I saw them.

  They were standing next to the motorcycle, studying the land. Fortunately for me, the ditches of Louisiana were too soft for any machine to drive through—that’s what caused the Coupe to slide so far away from the highway. They would have to catch me on foot.

  I placed a hand on my side and began to stagger away. I looked over my shoulder to see them sliding down into the ditches.

  I started to run. If I could just make it to the swamp, I would have a chance. I weaved through the high grass and inches of mud until I reached the edge of the woods. I clung to the first tree trunk in the path and squeezed it tight while I caught my breath. They were getting closer, but I was almost there.

  A beam of moon cut through the branches of the trees and shone on the path before me. Faded green moss hung from the tree branches and swayed like dark tinsel on an eerie Christmas tree. The spongy land began to sink below my feet to form pools of algae-filled water. Each time I lifted my foot from the soft soil, suction from the mud would pull at my shoes. It didn’t take many steps before the mud had sucked them completely from my feet, but I kept moving.

  Branches snapped in the blackness of the forest, followed by the sound of splashing water—they were near. I looked at the algae-blanketed water before me and then plunged forward into the floating greenery. The warm water quickly rose from my ankles to my chest as I waded through the marshy land. Through the trees I caught a small shimmer of light; a small shimmer of hope awaited me. Just a little bit further. I gritted my teeth as my bare feet slid across slippery surfaces at the bottom of the swamp. No telling what creatures or trash my feet were coming in contact with.

  Whispers came from behind. I quietly veered off into a pile of floating shrubbery and sunk down into the water until my head poked just above the surface like a turtle. They were getting closer.

  “Is she still out here?” the redhead questioned.

  “Oh yes, she’s still here—I can smell her fear,” Erik said. “Check the borders of the swamp. She couldn’t have gone far.” His voice made my skin crawl.

  Something in the shrubs moved, and I reacted with a sudden jerk in the water.

  “Did you hear that?” The woman spoke again. “Give me your flashlight.”

  I quietly waded out from the shrubbery as a beam of light skimmed the water’s surface. As the light neared, I took a deep breath and lowered my face underwater. I kept my eyes tightly shut to keep out the muggy water, but through my lids I saw the light pass over the surface. I held my breath as long as I could before resurfacing. A mutter and a crackle came from the muddy shore—they had moved down the edge of the swamp. There was no way I could get ahead of them on land now, but if I stayed in the water—I just might make it.

  I waded out into the middle of the water, completely away from the shrub-lined edges. At this time of night, the snakes and alligators rested near the banks and the fallen cypress trees. As long as I kept my distance, they shouldn’t bother me. I just needed to push my way through the muck, to the shack. Fergus had already moved into the Swamp Tours shack—he would be there, and he would help me. I began to swim.

  I heaved my weight out of the water and rolled my aching body onto the wooden deck. I laid flat on the rough surface while I steadied my breathing. It was a relief to be out of the dark water. I looked back to the bank—I could see the faint light from the flashlight still skimming the earth. I had maybe ten minutes before they would be here; I had a feeling they would thoroughly investigate the shack.

  I crawled over to the old door of the shack and peeped in through the fogged window. Fergus was sitting by a small fire, reading, like always. I tapped on the glass.

  “Fergus!” I lowered my voice a bit more, “Let me in—hurry.”

  I saw a small twinkle in his eye as he hobbled from his quiet place by the fire to the
door. As soon as the door cracked open, I slid in and grabbed his shoulders.

  “I am so sorry I’ve put you in danger. I-I need your help, Fergus. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re soaking wet, child. Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not.” I was still breathing heavy from the swim. “Alice is missing, and Erik and this woman, they were in the house. They took her, Fergus. I don’t know where, but they took her. And now they are after me—and I flipped the car, and they followed me. I don’t know what they want. I just kept running. I waded over here—but they are on their way. We have to go.” I paused, still frazzled from everything that had happened. “I know this must sound crazy, but you have to believe me—it’s not safe here.” Nothing I said made sense, even to me.

  “I believe you. Just take a deep breath. Let me get a knife.”

  “A knife? Did you not hear me?” I bent over slightly to calm my breathing. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Everything will be okay. Let’s first take care of these leeches.”

  “Leeches?” I immediately looked down to my feet. A slimy brown tube was wedged in the crease by my big toe. I glanced to my other foot—two more leeches were stuck to the top of my foot. I flinched and let out a gasp.

  “Get them off. Get them off,” I begged while I slapped my hands at the top of my feet.

  “Now calm down—if you slap them off, the leeches will regurgitate into the wound. We don’t want you to get an infection.” Fergus quickly shuffled over to the small kitchen part of the shack, grabbed a knife, and motioned for me to follow him to the table. “Sit, sit. We will take the airboat to town. Just let me get these suckers off your feet.”

  I sat in the chair, eyeing the window, while he slid the knife under the anterior sucker of each leech. I cringed in disgust as he popped the squirmy worms from my skin. After the leeches were off and stomped dead, Fergus limped over to the cabinet in the corner of the room. He opened the lower cabinet drawers and grabbed a brown sack. In my peripheral vision, I saw his aged hand toss a set of rattling keys into the bag, along with something wrapped in a woolen cloth.