Jason nodded, but his heart chilled. It hadn’t been said in so many words, but the reason for calling them all back was clear in his mind. That night wouldn’t let Ronnie go, and it sure as hell hadn’t released Jason. They needed closure, though a word like closure would be as foreign to Ronnie as a real smile.
“Frank ought to be here before we really get into it,” Jason replied at last. “No reason to talk it over twice, you know?”
“Frank’s thought about it plenty, Jason,” Ronnie frowned. “Don’t you read his books? I know, and you know, where a lot of that came from. Been meaning to ask him about a couple of those characters. Hell, been ready to black his eye more than once.”
Ronnie took another drink, and Jason watched him carefully. This was something new. Reading? Ronnie? And if the big man had been reading Frank’s books all along, he’d met Roger Simmons, and Bert Taylor, probably others more subtle, who were modeled on himself. Hurtful bullies, bigger and stronger with less compassion than other characters. Characters who invariably came to a bad end. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to come back. Maybe even more so for Frank.
“They’re just characters,” Jason said softly. “Frank has his own way of dealing with things.”
Ronnie drained his beer and turned to Jason, eyes blazing suddenly. “I know that, Jason. I said I wanted to kick his ass because he wrote it too close to the truth, you know? Hell, I was every bit the bully he made me in those books. He didn’t pull any punches on any of us.”
Jason nodded again, again surprised. This adult, reasoning Ronnie wasn’t living up to Jason’s nightmares. It was almost enough to make you feel sorry for the characters in the novels.
Lizzy looked up suddenly.
“Frank wrote about me too,” she said softly. “Sometimes, when I look back at Richard, and the kids, and how all that ended up, I think I should have listened more to what he was writing. It used to piss me off, the things he wrote.”
Lizzy sipped her coffee, then looked straight up into Jason’s eyes. “I called him once, screamed at him for changing the ending to my life. He was right.”
Jason’s heartbeat had speeded nearly double. He knew which book it had to have been. “The Crying of the Trees,” and in it, the long-time bachelor computer engineer gets a call from the girl back home he’d always loved. They meet after her life has tumbled to chaos and despite a run-in with a seriously demented, redneck, Ronnie-acting serial killer, manage to live happily ever after. Frank had always believed Jason and Lizzy were the perfect couple. Looking into her eyes just then, it was easy to believe he might be right.
“You two knock it off,” Ronnie growled suddenly. He leaned, flipped open his cooler, and tossed Jason another beer without asking if he wanted it. “I didn’t call you back here to see if Frank was a good matchmaker.” He twisted the top off the beer with a hissing pop and took a long drink.
“We have to go back.”
Jason nearly dropped the beer he was opening, and Lizzy’s tea sloshed out of her cup as her hand started to shake. There it was, just like that, and now that it had been said, it had to be dealt with, one way or the other.
“Why?” Jason asked quietly. “Why would we go back to that place. What do you expect to see, Ronnie? Ashes? Christ, no one’s been there since we were kids.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Ronnie said, glancing out toward the road and the town beyond. “So I went back. Knew it was silly to say anything to the rest of you, so I just got in my truck, drove out there, and walked back to the clearing. Didn’t think I could do it, but when I got closer, it seemed sillier, and by the time I was actually in the woods, I was almost laughing. Right up until I saw it, that is.”
Ronnie fell silent, and tipped his bottle up again, not looking back to where Jason and Lizzy were staring at him, waiting. Jason’s brow was coated in sweat, very suddenly, and Lizzy was shaking, trembling so violently that her cup nearly fell from her fingers.
Finally, Jason couldn’t stand it.
“What the hell did you see Ronnie?”
Ronnie turned back suddenly. “That damn cabin, that’s what I saw. I came up close, so there was a break in the trees, and there it stood. Not a bit different than it was last time I saw it. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, wood piled by the door. Jason, the damn thing is back!”
“What did you do?” Lizzy’s voice quavered, nearly breaking.
“What the hell do you think I did? I ran like hell. Don’t think I’ve run that far or that fast since the last time we were there. All of us. Together.” He grew silent again, then spoke, but in lower tones.
“We have to go back, all of us.”
Jason frowned. “How do you know it isn’t someone else?” He asked. “I mean, we saw her in that fire, Ronnie. Saw the whole place up in flames. They had a funeral, for God’s sake. Who do you think they buried? It’s probably someone else completely.”
Ronnie shook his head. “I asked around, Jason. Most folks looked at me like I was crazy. Hell, maybe I am. No one here has seen anyone new. Where would they buy clothes, or food, if not in Random? How the hell did they get lumber and roofing and paint out into those woods and build that cottage without anyone noticing? You tell me that, and I’ll believe there’s someone else. The damn place is just back, that’s all. I think she’s waiting for us.”
“She’s dead!” Lizzy hissed from the corner, rising in a single fluid motion and running quickly to the door. She fumbled with the latch, cursed, and was nearly inside when Jason rose beside her and drew her back into his arms.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “Let him talk, okay? If it’s someone else, we all get a pleasant walk in the woods, and maybe we can put this behind us for good. You want that, don’t you Lizzy?”
She turned then, releasing the door with a soft sob. Jason found her suddenly pressed to his chest, head on his shoulder, crying softly, and he held her.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Ronnie said, grabbing his cooler and stepping off the porch. “You let Frank know what’s up. I’ll get everything together and bring the truck around after supper.”
Jason didn’t turn to say goodbye, and Ronnie didn’t wait. Moments later, the sound of a final beer-top hissed through the darkness, followed by the truck’s engine catching. Quick spurt of gravel, and Jason and Lizzy were alone on the porch.
Without a word, Jason turned and drew her down into his lap, still held tightly to his chest. He leaned in close, brushing her hair with his lips and whispered.
“I’ve missed you.”
Jason’s shirt was damp with her tears, but he felt her nodding against his chest, and he tightened the hug. They sat there for a long, long time before Lizzy uncurled sleepily and took his hand. Jason let her pull him to his feet, and through the door. They didn’t even pause outside his room in passing.
TWO
Jason walked alone down a darkened trail. Tall trees closed in on both sides, low-hanging branches looming like long arms with skeletal fingers groping. He ignored them. Ahead was a light, flickering in the darkness. The fire. Her fire.
Jason hurried his steps. He called out into the darkness. “Lizzy!”
“Frank!”
“Ronnie!”
Nothing. No answer. Bursting from the line of trees at a full run, he entered the clearing.
In the center was a fire, a small fire, no bigger than you’d use to roast hot dogs and marshmallows over—no larger than you’d have in your fireplace, or a park barbecue. Beyond that fire she sat, waiting. Jason couldn’t make out the old woman’s features, but his memory pieced them together. He could hear her rasping, heaving voice.
“For an evil past, no deed atones; to know the future? Roll them BONES.”
Jason’s throat was dry, and his feet moved as though kicking their way through molasses. He could see her eyes now, glittering like two brighter coals beyond the flickering light of the fire. She didn’t move, and there was no sign of the others, but he knew they were
there. They’d all come into the woods together. He remembered.
“Where are they?” he croaked. The words stretched, echoing endlessly, going nowhere and everywhere at once. Her eyes glared at him through the flames, but she didn’t speak.
Then he saw it. Something shifted within the flames, slowly, then more quickly, rising and swaying from side to side. Jason stumbled forward, arms outstretched and his mouth twisted into a scream that wouldn’t cut loose of his throat.
Lizzy. Lizzy was in the flames, dusty with ash and eyes pleading, rising like a Fourth of July “snake,” flaking away in the breeze. Beneath her, Frank’s head popped free of the coals, and a voice croaked through parched lips.
“Don’t let her get away this time, Jason. You two, are like THIS,” fingers twisting and snapping, popping in the flames and Ronnie’s massive shoulders break the hot, glowing surface. Lizzy is half gone, her fingers first, sifting away toward the elbows, the remnant of her reaching out to Jason. Her lips move, but there was no longer any sound.
Behind them all, cackling, old Tara had risen. She shuffled back and forth, muttering under her breath and cackling like a hyena.
“KNOW that future boy,” she cried. “Know it and live it, I ain’t NEVER gonna die.”
“Jesus CHRIST!”
Jason sat bolt upright in the bed, the sheets clutched tightly to his chest, body bathed in sweat. He was trembling uncontrollably. The sheet was soaked, but he clutched it tightly about himself.
Lizzy was nowhere to be seen, and the morning sun was pouring in through the window. The clock, ticking loudly on the nightstand, read 8:15. Jason stared at it, not really comprehending what he saw. He sat, and he rocked, hunched over and so tense his body twitched, until the door slid open quietly.
A soft breath of perfume floating around him, a brush of air, and Lizzy was sitting on the edge of the bed, her fingers on his cheek.
“Jason,” she said softly. When he didn’t immediately acknowledge her, she raised her voice, gripping his shoulder gently. “Jason!”
Jason turned his head slowly, blinking. Lizzy’s face came into focus and he stared at her. He wanted to grab her, to draw her into his arms and hold her so nothing could part them, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t unwrap his own arms from the cold, wet sheet, and he was suddenly aware of the stench.
“Jesus,” he said softly.
“What happened?” Lizzy asked. “Jason what happened?”
He shook his head gently. “A dream,” he said softly. “Just another dream.”
She took in his drenched, shivering form. “That wasn’t just a dream, Jason. Dreams don’t cause—this.” She reached out and grabbed the damp edge of the sheet, holding it up where he could see, and smell.
Jason turned away.
Lizzy slid in behind him, and before he could flinch or pull away, she’d wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the sweaty sheets, and pulled him back against her.
“I have the dreams too,” she whispered. “It’s okay. You’d better get cleaned up though. Frank will be here any minute, and I’d like to have some time with him before Ronnie gets back.”
Jason was shaking again, suddenly, but he nodded. Lizzy let him go, and he slipped from the bed, letting the sheet trail behind him as he slipped into the bathroom.
When the sound of steaming water echoed from the tiles, Lizzy rose, reluctantly, and left. As she gripped the door, her hand trembled.
~ * ~
Breakfast had long been cleared away when Jason finally joined Lizzy and Mae at the table. There was coffee, in a chrome carafe that kept it fresh and hot, and, despite her hard and fast rules about being on time for meals, there was a small plate of muffins in the center of the table. Jason almost smiled.
Mae was looking him up and down, her smile half formed. Jason had the sudden sensation of being inspected, and he stood a little taller instinctively.
“Your bed don’t need much attention this morning, I’m told,” Mae rumbled at last.
Jason blushed, then grinned and reached for the coffee.
“I’m a light sleeper,” he said half jokingly.
“To hear the story,” Mae continued, “you are anything but. I’ll be charging you double if those sheets are sweat-stained.”
There was a momentary uncomfortable silence, then Lizzy broke it.
“I have those same dreams, Mae.”
There it was. Out in the open, and where someone not involved could see it, hear about it.
Jason reached for a muffin, not raising his eyes from the coffee as he poured his cup full.
“I didn’t think you kids came back here just to spend Halloween with Ronnie, or even ol’ Mae. Frank too? He has the dreams?”
“Don’t know,” Jason said softly. “If he does, he never says so. Frank is different. He has the words, the writing. We all have our nightmares, Frank captures them and shares.”
Mae nodded. “I read those books. I’m surprised he’ll come back and face folks after some of the things he wrote, but damned if I can find fault in anything he said about me. There’s others feel differently.”
Jason shrugged. “I read them too, Mae. They can bitch all they want, Frank’s a good judge of folks, and most of what he wrote is right on the money. Sure had me pegged.”
Jason glanced sidelong at Lizzy, who was watching him carefully. They’d never spoken to a soul about that night. None of them. It wasn’t a rule they’d made, just a thing they’d done. As far as anyone in town knew, there had been a fire in the woods. Old Tara’s cottage had gone up in flames, probably from some overturned cauldron or incense burner. Odd that it happened on Halloween, but never associated with any other event of that long ago night.
Not by anyone else.
Jason might have said more, then. Might have spilled the whole story and let things fall as they would, but the silence was shattered by the doorbell’s insistent ringing, and Mae was rolling to her feet in an easy, fluid motion. The moment had passed.
Frank stepped into the room and sized them up carefully, as if gauging his welcome. Though he’d aged over a decade, there was little changed about him. His glasses rode low on his nose, and his pants were just a tad too short. Even expensive tailoring hadn’t changed the boy they knew.
“Hey Frank,” Jason said softly, rising and offering his hand. “It’s about time.”
Frank took the offered hand in a tight grip, covered it with his free hand and smiled.
“Halloween is sort of difficult for me,” he apologized with a grin. “My agent and publicist seem to think I should be off on a book-signing tour, or guest-starring at the Podunk County House of Horrors.”
“The lifestyle of the rich and famous,” Lizzy said, laughing. Frank released Jason’s hand and stepped closer to give Lizzy a quick hug.
“How you doin’, Liz?” he asked softly.
“Guess you ought to be askin’ the two of them that together,” Mae laughed. She slapped her hand into Frank’s back, causing him to stagger half a step, then turned toward the kitchen and was gone.
Frank stood, staring first at Jason, then at Liz, then back. His smile widened, and, for just that instant, he was the boy who’d come running into school each day, notebooks gripped tightly, and his eyes bright with the inspiration for his newest story.
“No way,” Frank said at last.
Lizzy blushed, and Jason grinned. Frank started laughing. “Guess I haven’t lost my touch,” he said with a grin.
“I’m going to get some more coffee,” Lizzy said, still not meeting Frank’s eyes. She grabbed the carafe and followed Mae’s retreat to the kitchen, leaving the two old friends standing by the table.
“You sure don’t waste any time,” Frank observed.
“I wasted half my life,” Jason said. “I’d say it’s about time.” He hesitated, then went on. “Ronnie was here last night.”
“Well, that’s why we came, yes?” Frank nodded. “I suppose he’s ready to kick my ass.”
“Surprisin
gly,” Jason replied, returning to his seat and taking a sip of his coffee, “he seems to have gotten past that. He read all your books, Frank. All of them. Damned if he didn’t understand them, if you can believe that.”
Frank looked down at his hands.
“I never really meant to write anything hurtful,” he said softly. “I just wrote what came to mind.” He hesitated, just for a second, then continued. “I used to have dreams, Jason. Horrible dreams, and always with you and Lizzy and Ronnie, always that night.”
Jason shivered. “I know. I still have them.”
“The writing helps,” Frank shrugged. “Don’t know how, or why, but as long as I write what seems ‘true,’ then everything evens out for a while. Not for long, but long enough to keep me sane.”
“Ronnie says the cabin is back,” Jason said softly.
Frank glanced at him sharply. “Back?”
Jason nodded. “Said he went out there, just to visit the place and try and leave it all behind. He never made it to the clearing. Got close, and there it was, just like there’d been no fire.”
“That’s a bunch of crap.” Frank spoke so sharply, so quickly, that Jason jerked back in shock. Blushing, Frank went on in a rush. “I mean, we fucking saw what we saw, Jason. Christ, is that what he brought us here for? A Halloween scare in the woods? That’s what started it last time.”
Frank fell silent, and he glanced down at the table, just as Lizzy returned to the room with the coffee. She held another empty cup in her free hand. Her smile vanished as she caught Frank’s expression and the echo of his outburst.
“I didn’t say I believed him,” Jason said softly. “Just telling you what he said. He seemed pretty spooked, Frank.”
“He always could get us going,” Frank mumbled. “Christ.”
“We have to go,” Lizzy said softly, setting the cup in front of Frank and pouring it full of coffee. “You knew that when you came here. It doesn’t matter if it’s just Ronnie being an idiot again,” she pursed her lips, thinking, “what matters is that we find a way to put an end to it. I’ve tried to do that for a very long time by myself, and I can’t.”
Roll Them Bones Page 2