Snared wd-3

by Stefan Petrucha

  They talked for about fifteen minutes before Doyle decided to end the conversation. He danced forward and put his hands on Lindsay’s hips, held her tightly so she couldn’t get away again.

  “You can let me go now.”

  “No,” Doyle said. “I can’t. You’ve been a part of me since we met.”

  Oh please, Lindsay thought. He was looking at her with sad puppy eyes, totally fake. Did this crap really work on other girls?

  “Hey, Doyle,” the pudgy kid said.

  What’s his name? Lindsay wondered. Burt? Bart?

  “Move it, short round,” Doyle said angrily. “You so don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

  Lindsay tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “Okay, Romeo, that’s as far as this rolls.”

  “Come on, just a few minutes. We’ll go someplace quiet. Have a beer.”

  Lindsay looked around for help. Bart or Burt just gazed at the sand, backing away. Mel and Tee were dancing with guys by the bon’. Char was ignoring the boy talking to her. She watched Lindsay’s predicament, grinning from ear to ear with evil glee.

  Doyle pushed in closer and slid his hand up Lindsay’s waist, until his palm was suddenly cupping her left breast. That was it!

  Lindsay stomped down hard on Doyle’s foot. The sand gave a bit and she stumbled to the side, but she righted herself in time to get in a flat-handed blow to his nose before he recovered. Doyle skittered back, making a wet snuffling noise. He tripped and landed on his ass.

  Finally, something she’d learned in school paid off. She’d thought the self-defense class was a total waste of time, but it sure worked well enough on Doyle.

  “Night,” Lindsay said sharply. Then she walked away.

  Her wrist hurt from striking Doyle, but Lindsay felt good. She’d spent a lot of the evening chatting with Mel and Tee. Both girls had tried so hard to be friendly, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. She didn’t even know if she liked them or not. The pity got in the way. Mel was kind of quiet, but nice enough. Tee was more outgoing, but still subdued. Char just didn’t like her, and Lindsay was fine with that. She knew the girl was jealous, though of all of Ev’s entourage, she actually seemed to understand that Ev was going to leave them.

  Lindsay approached her uncle’s house, walking through the sand and smiling. When Mark’s house came up on her right, butterflies erupted in her stomach.

  Lindsay slowed as she reached the alley separating her uncle’s house from Mark’s. She glanced along the sandy trail and stopped dead. A block of ice dropped into her belly when she saw the girl creeping along the side of Mark’s house.

  Ev! The platinum hair, the bikini top. That bitch.

  She crept along the side of the house toward the glowing light of Mark’s window. He was still awake. The shade was up, and Ev was going to make her move. Lindsay felt so stupid. She’d almost believed all of Ev’s “don’t waste your time on him” stuff. She wanted Lindsay away from Mark because Ev wanted him for herself.

  Lindsay thought about yelling at Ev to get away from the house and the window and the boy next door, but she stopped herself.

  If Mark was the kind of guy she believed he was, he’d send Ev away.

  Please don’t bring Barbie back.

  If he was just another classless hick like the boys at the bonfire, Lindsay wanted to know it.

  Lindsay quietly hurried across the alley to her uncle’s porch. She tiptoed over the deck and leaned against the siding, listening, praying Mark didn’t flirt with Ev. Her heart was already aching to think he might invite her into his room.

  But that didn’t happen. A sharp gasp came up from the side of the house. It was followed by another sound. Shrill but controlled. Muffled and quiet. Lindsay inched forward, wanting to see what was going on.

  Ev raced along the sand, looking desperate. Her platinum hair whipped from side to side, slapping her face and shoulders as she stumbled and righted herself. She tore out of the alley, the sound of stifled sobbing rising from her. Wild eyes shone over hands clasped tightly to keep the cries in her mouth.

  Moments later, the door of Mark’s house flew open and Doug, the leaner of the two guardians, charged out onto the porch. He jumped the stairs, hit the beach with a dull thud, and kept running, kicking up small clouds of sand as he sprinted along the shore. Lindsay watched the chase, her pulse thundering in her ears. Jack appeared a moment later. He similarly ran and jumped. He hit the sand and paused, looking up the beach. Doug stopped, too, forty yards away. He put his hands on his hips and just watched the girl’s flight.

  Far down the beach, Ev looked back at the guardians. She screamed, a piercing, terrible sound.

  But she never stopped running.

  What the hell is happening? Ev was terrified by something. Something she had seen in Mark’s room?

  Lindsay silently backed to the door. She didn’t want to be caught by Doug or Jack. No way did she want in on that. She slipped inside the screen door, then locked the heavy wooden door behind her.

  Heart fluttering, she raced up the stairs to her room. At the window seat she cautiously leaned forward to look down.

  A black shade descended over Mark’s window.

  And Lindsay knew she was right, knew what drove Ev away in such a panic. Ev had seen Mark being punished. She’d crept to his house, hoping to hook up. She looked through his window and saw…whatever it was Doug and Jack did to Mark. The sounds Ev made weren’t loud, so there was no way the guardians could have heard her. No way. They had to see her looking in, witnessing their abuse. Once she was seen, Ev freaked.

  It must have been so awful.

  They’re capable of things you can’t even imagine.

  9

  The next morning.

  “Are you okay?” Lindsay asked through the open window. She hadn’t even waited for Mark’s invitation to open it. She had to speak to him.

  “What are you doing here?” Mark whispered, his voice breaking with anxiety. “Doug and Jack are in the next room.”

  “You have to let me call someone for you. This isn’t right.”

  “Lindsay, you can’t get involved in this. I told you. Go home. We’ll talk if they leave again.”

  “If?”

  “Something happened last night. I’m not even sure what, but they’re on red alert out there.”

  “I know,” Lindsay said. “I saw it. Look, take this.” She handed Mark her cell phone. “Hide it under the bed or something. I programmed my number into the first speed dial. I’ll have my Treo. I can use that. You can call me anytime or call for help if you need to.”

  “I can’t take this,” Mark said, lifting the device toward the window.

  But Lindsay wouldn’t take it. “You have to,” she told him. “I want to know you’re okay.”

  Lindsay sat in the kitchen, staring at her coffee. Her PDA rested on the table in front of her. When her dad came in and said “You’re up early,” Lindsay muttered “Couldn’t sleep.” Her dad bent over and kissed her forehead, stroked her hair, then went to the coffeepot.

  “Your mom will be down in a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  She watched her dad pouring milk into his coffee mug. Last night at dinner his face had been red from a day in the sun, but now it was brown, and he looked more like a bear than ever.

  “What are your plans for today?” he asked. “Your new friends dragging you off again?”

  “I don’t think so.” She hoped she never saw those creeps again.

  “You’re welcome to join us on the beach if you want. That is, if you won’t be too embarrassed being seen with your parents?”

  “Of course I’ll be embarrassed,” Lindsay said, trying to make a joke. Her heart wasn’t in it, and it came off dry and nasty. So she added “How could I NOT be?” This time she put in enough flare to her voice to get the playfulness across.

  Her dad chuckled, but it was a courtesy laugh at best. “You okay, honey?”

  No, she thought. “Fi
ne,” she said. “Just a little tired.”

  “Well, some sun will do you good.”

  Such simple answers to everything, Lindsay thought. According to her dad, a little sun, some sea air, and a piece of pie were all anyone needed to cope with anything. The world could be crumbling down, and he’d be there handing out beach towels and slices of Dutch apple to everyone, telling them not to panic.

  What was she going to do? What could she do?

  Nothing, a small voice said to her. You can’t do a damn thing.

  She rarely listened to this annoying voice. It was a downer, a shot of pessimism she just didn’t need. For most of her life, she’d been able to fix things. Fixed them for herself. Fixed them for her friends. Even helped her parents every now and then. Why couldn’t she fix this? Why wasn’t there a simple answer? A plan to follow? Something?

  After an hour on the beach, Lindsay decided to get something to drink and get out of the sun for a while. So she sat in the shade of her uncle’s porch, sipping an iced tea. She could still see her parents, who were closer to the water. Her dad’s belly rose and fell steadily as he napped with a baseball cap over his face. Her mom lay on her stomach, reading a paperback. The light trill of her Treo brought Lindsay out of her revery. She fumbled with the PDA and finally answered.

  “Hey,” Mark said, his voice quiet and sounding very far away.

  “Hey.”

  “Can you hear me?”

  “Sure,” Lindsay replied.

  “I have to be quiet. Doug went out for a while, but Jack’s napping in the next room. I can hear him snoring. Sounds like a hog with asthma.”

  Lindsay laughed and threw a look at the porch of the neighboring house.

  “So what are you doing?” Mark asked.

  “Sitting on the porch, having some tea.”

  “Not out with Barbie?”

  “After last night…I don’t think so.”

  There was a brief silence on the line. “What happened last night?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Lindsay, I haven’t been out of the house in a week. I’m a little out of the loop.”

  So she told him about seeing Ev between their houses, how she was sneaking up to his window. How she totally freaked at what she saw.

  “Well, that explains a lot,” Mark said. “I was in the living room, watching TV, when Doug and Jack went charging through like a couple of startled water buffalo. I didn’t know what was going on, but the cops showed up in the middle of the night and really made a stink.”

  “The police were there?”

  “Yeah. I thought Jack and Doug called them. I figured they caught someone trying to break in. I didn’t know.”

  Lindsay felt awkward saying what she was about to say, but she had to. “I thought Ev might have seen them…you know…hurting you or something. She really looked scared.”

  “No. Nothing like that. They did send me back to my room though, like I was the one that did something wrong.”

  “What do you think she saw?” Lindsay asked.

  “Don’t know. Jack and Doug have done some really weird stuff. They perform these rituals sometimes. I don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish, but it can be pretty creepy to watch.”

  “Rituals?”

  “Yeah. They’re both totally into the occult. I’ve never seen them sacrifice a goat or anything, but they take it seriously. Like I said, some of that junk is just full-on creepy.”

  Suddenly Lindsay thought about the burner with the dreadlocks. He’d been on that side of the house, moving close to Mark’s window. What if he’d seen the same thing as Ev?

  They’re real! God protect us. They’re real.

  “But why were they doing it in your room?”

  “I don’t know,” Mark said. “But I’m kind of freaked out now. I mean, especially if your friend was all psych ward over it.”

  Lindsay didn’t know what to say. The occult? She remembered the tattoos on Jack’s back. Were they magic symbols? Some cult pattern?

  “You know, Lindsay, it might be better if you took this phone back. If they find it on me, you could get into some real trouble, and I don’t want that. Things have always been weird around here, but it feels like something is going to happen soon, something bad, and I don’t want you to be hung up in it.”

  “No,” Lindsay said. “You keep it. You might need it.” “I don’t think it will help, but I do like chatting with you.”

  “Me, too.”

  10

  For two days, Mark’s guardians didn’t leave the property, but he managed to find time—when they were outside or napping or watching TV in the next room—to call and quietly chat with Lindsay.

  She was thrilled every time the Treo rang. Whether she was on the beach with her parents or in her room, IMing with Kate or Trey, she stopped everything to take his calls. Her parents commented several times on her good mood, and she did all that she could to assure them it was the vacation and nothing more. No way could she tell them about Mark.

  And he was so great. He was funny and romantic, and one day, when Jack and Doug were out tinkering with their car, Mark played another song for her on his piano. It was a simple tune, but really pretty. “It makes me think of you,” he told her.

  What wasn’t so great were the calls she got from Tee and Mel. At first she didn’t recognize the caller ID, so she let the calls go to her mailbox. When she retrieved the first one—from a Christie Molson—it took her a few seconds to realize it was Tee’s voice. “Hey, Lindsay. Can you call me and Mel? It’s like about Ev. We don’t have cells, so just call my mom’s. The number is…”

  Lindsay didn’t return the call. Or the next one, or the one after that. In fact, she erased the later messages without even listening to them. She so didn’t care what Mel or Tee had to say about Ev. More than likely, they were just speaking for Ev, who wanted to feed Lindsay some story about what happened that night at Mark’s. Whatever the case, she didn’t trust Ev or her friends. Besides, she was enjoying her conversations with Mark and didn’t want any annoying memories of the bonfire club interfering with it.

  It was hard enough not being with him. So after he called late the second afternoon, she was happy. Mark sounded tired and upset, but his guardians were out, and he wanted to see her.

  “What are these things?” Lindsay asked, running a finger over one of the metal corner pieces in the window frame.

  Mark looked up from the piano, which he had been playing, and said “Ugh. Doug and Jack have them all over the house. They picked them up at a magic shop years ago. They’re supposed to keep out evil or something stupid. I think they just like the way they look. What do you think?”

  “They’re okay,” Lindsay said. “I mean, they’re small, so it’s not like they’re a total eyesore. I thought they might be part of an alarm or something.”

  “Nah, go ahead and wiggle one around. You’ll see. No sirens.”

  Lindsay gave it a try. She grasped the metal. It was incredibly cold to the touch. Once she had the corner piece pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she gave it a tug.

  It didn’t budge.

  “They’re in really tight.”

  Mark stood from the piano bench and walked over to Lindsay. He put his arms around her waist, sending electric tingles up her spine. “Old-world craftsmanship,” he said. He leaned down and nuzzled her hair. Then he kissed her neck.

  She turned slowly and met his lips with her own. The kiss was hesitant and tender. But it was nice. He pulled away too soon.

  “So, I wanted you to come over to tell you something,” Mark said. He crossed the room and sat on the bed.

  Lindsay joined him, sitting down with her hip touching his. “What is it?”

  “I’m going to leave.”

  The news brought a thick nausea to her stomach. Her throat clenched tightly and her hands began to shake.

  “W-when? Why?”

  “Something is wrong here,” he said. “Jack and Doug are
losing it. The other day they took all of my clothes except what I’m wearing. I think they burned them. They’re getting totally paranoid, and it’s all coming down on me.”

  “But where will you go?” Lindsay asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. Anywhere but here. I’m only telling you because I like you a lot, and if things weren’t so screwed up, we might have…” He let the sentence trail away. He fell silent for a moment, then said “The thing is, once I go, that’s it. I can’t come back. I can’t see you anymore, and I can’t call or anything. So, I guess this is kind of good-bye.”

  “Good-bye?” Lindsay felt incredibly ill. Never see each other again? “When are you leaving?”

  “As soon as I can. I thought about taking off the minute Jack and Doug left, but I wanted to talk to you first, you know? I’m never sure when they’ll leave or when they’ll come back. It might be days before I get another chance, but I’ve got to get away from here. They’re really scaring me now.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Lindsay asked.

  Mark pulled the cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her. It felt like a hot lump of coal in her hand. “You’ve already done enough.”

  She tried kissing him again, but he pulled away, shaking his head. “It’ll only make things worse.”

  He stood and walked back to the piano. Solemnly, he sat down and began to play.

  As far as Lindsay was concerned, it couldn’t get any worse than this.

  11

  The first time Lindsay got into real trouble she was nine years old. One day after school, Kate talked her into smoking a cigarette. They were in Lindsay’s room watching television, and the babysitter, Mrs. Kharn, was napping on the sofa downstairs. Kate produced the Marlboro and a book of matches, and though Lindsay’s first response was “No way,” a minute later she was drawing the nasty smoke into her throat. She only managed to take two puffs before feeling totally high—her head was spinning and light as air. They flushed the evidence down the toilet and swore to each other that they’d never touch another cigarette. Kate went home, and Lindsay brushed her teeth twice to get rid of the gross taste in her mouth.