by Wendy Wang
“Holy crap,” Jen finally said, breaking the tension. “That was —”
Lisa finished her sister’s sentence. “Terrifying.”
“Any way to keep him out?” Jason asked.
“No. Why would we?” Jen asked.
Jason shrugged one shoulder and flashed her a wry smile. “No reason.”
Chapter 12
A scream pierced the night, and Charlie awoke with a start. When she sat up and glanced around, she found herself in a simple warm bed. Next to her a boy lay snoring softly, unfazed by the blood-curdling sound. When she looked down at her hands, they were not hers. They were the hands of young man.
This is a dream.
She rose from the bed and peered through the wavy glass of the small window by the bed. It looked out onto a dirt road lined with a few simple buildings. She was dreaming about the past.
A hoard of people marched in the street carrying torches and dressed in clothes that reminded her of dioramas in museums she’d seen depicting the eighteenth century. They were all men. Some wore gray wigs beneath triangular hats. Some wore brown. Some were old and some were as young as fourteen or fifteen. Two men, one wearing all black with white preaching bands attached to his neck, held a rope that was tied around a young woman’s neck. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Charlie’s heart beat faster as she watched them drag the struggling girl toward a square. Mud caked her ragged dress and terror streaked her pale, innocent face.
Charlie closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her heart. She needed to connect with the boy, whose eyes she was seeing through. Within a few seconds his thoughts pushed to the forefront and she could hear them.
His name was Ezra Fife. He was sixteen and he knew the girl. They attended Reverend Luckett’s school together. He’d thought her pretty once, with her jet-black hair and heart-shaped face.
Movement in the front room drew him away from the window, and he slipped on his breeches and grabbed his boots. He crept down the steps taking care not to wake his younger brother Thomas, and more importantly, his mother. If she awakened he would have to deal with the disappointment in her eyes and the sting of her hand on the back of his head for wanting to take part in what she deemed a gruesome ritual.
His father moved quietly through the front room, packing his satchel with his pistol and his prayer book.
“I’m going with you, Father,” Ezra said, hopping and tugging on his boot. He tucked the tail of his shirt into his breeches and pulled his suspenders over his shoulders.
“No, Ezra, you are not,” his father said. Dark lavender shadows deepened the lines of his father’s sun-weathered face. “Go back to bed.”
“No, Father,” he said. “Someone who knows her should be there to bear witness. To pray for her soul.”
His father glanced up. His long face filled with surprise, but it quickly turned to consternation. “And you think that someone should be you?”
“Yes, sir.” Ezra nodded.
“You are too young to bear witness to such things, boy. Now, go to bed.”
He was forever too young in his father’s eyes. “I am almost seventeen, sir. You were married at my age. How were you not too young for marriage, but I am too young to pray for a poor girl?”
His father’s mouth twisted into a frown, and he scrubbed his stubbled chin. “You are too impertinent.” He sighed and glanced toward the darkened hall leading to the stairs. “Ezra, your mother would skin us both if she found out I let you watch a water test.”
“Please father, for Abby’s sake, let me go.”
“Do you know her well?”
“Well enough,” Ezra said. “We’ve gone to school together these last five years.” He didn’t mention how he’d once thought her a beautiful creature when she smiled.
His father clapped a heavy hand on Ezra’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “This is not a game, Ezra. This is a girl’s life. What you witness tonight could change you forever.”
“I know, Father. But I have faith that God will lead us through the darkness. Don’t you?”
His father opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. He cupped Ezra’s cheek, the rough calluses of his palm scraping against his skin. He sighed. “I suppose I cannot protect you forever. Put on your coat.”
“What about mother?”
“We will beg for mercy in the morning.”
Ezra grinned and nodded. Excitement wound through his chest and gave his heart a squeeze. It would be the first time he ever saw an accused witch tested. He donned his coat and followed his father to the town square. Ezra bounced on his toes and bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from grinning. If his father believed for one second that Ezra wasn’t taking the whole thing seriously, the witch wouldn’t be the only one to suffer tonight.
Ezra followed his father into the street and they joined the tail end of the crowd. Abby stumbled and fell to her knees. Ezra sped up and helped her to her feet. For a second their gazes locked. Her eyes were full of terror.
“Ezra, help me, please.” Her voice shook.
“Abby . . . “ he started. The men leading her jerked harder on the rope around her neck, yanking her forward. “I'm sorry.”
“Keep moving, girl,” Reverend Luckett said.
For a moment Ezra hesitated. Maybe his father was right. Maybe he was too young. As if his father had read his mind, he put his hand on Ezra's back and pushed him onward. He gave Ezra a stern look that said, No going back now.
The crowd stopped at Garner's stables, and several of the men loaded into the back of a wagon including the minister and his protégé William Hicks. They held tight to the rope attached to Abby, making her walk behind them. Those who couldn't fit onto the wagon continued to march alongside it toward the river. Ezra and his father kept a short distance between them and Abby.
They walked along the dusty road that had been cut through the trees and down a steep hill to the edge of the river. As they drew closer Ezra smelled the cool, clean water.
The wagon stopped and the man got out dragging Abigail forward toward her fate. The men gathered at the riverbank, their torches glowing against the dark forest. Reverend Luckett and his apprentice Reverend Hicks tracked the girl into the water.
They stopped when the water reached Abby's waist. Each man flanked her, each grabbing hold of an arm. Facing her toward the crowd.
“Abigail Heard,” the Reverend began. “You have been accused of practicing witchcraft and killing your master. What say you?”
“I have nothing to say,” she said softly.
Reverend Luckett gave Reverend Hicks a pointed look and nodded. The two men pushed the girl backward as one of them knocked her off balance. They held her under the water for a moment. She struggled and splashed.
Ezra felt sick watching them torture her. After another moment, they yanked her to her feet holding tightly onto her arms so that she would not fall forward. Her dark hair clung to her skin in spidery tendrils and she coughed.
“Admit you're a witch, Abigail Heard. Repent and you may have God's forgiveness,” Reverend Hicks said.
Abby's shoulders shook with tears. “I will not.”
“Again,” Reverend Luckett said. The two men knocked her off her feet again and held her under the frigid, rushing water. Several moments later they pulled her up again. She coughed and tried to stand up straight but could not. “Repent Abigail Heard. Repent so at least you won't go to hell when we hang you for witchcraft.”
Panic coiled around Ezra's heart, and he stepped closer to the edge of the water. “Repent. Please, Abby.”
Abby looked up at him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her black, fiery eyes. “I will not.”
“Again,” Reverend Luckett said. Abby disappeared beneath the surface of the water, this time with no struggle. They held her there for a few moments longer than before. When they tried to pull her body up they couldn’t lift her. Ezra’s heart dropped to the pit of his belly. She was d
ead. The current moved faster and the water became rougher. White crests appeared, curling into waves.
The two men attempted again to raise her still body and move to shore. Reverend Luckett lurched sideways, and he screamed as something jerked him down into the water. Reverend Hicks let go of the girl’s body and tried to help his master but didn’t seem to be able to find the man.
“There he is,” one of Ezra’s neighbors shouted. Several men rushed down river, wading in to retrieve Luckett’s lifeless body. The wind picked up around them and the water swelled into a large wave, traveling in the wrong direction. As quick as they got into the water, the men who weren’t dragged under, got out. A banshee scream filled their ears, and Abigail Heard rode the crest of the wave down the center of the river.
“A curse be upon you all and upon this town and this land,” she screamed at them, raising her hands to heaven. She began to chant something that Ezra could not quite make out.
“Father.” Ezra’s heart beat hard in his throat, making it hard to breath. He tugged his father away from the crowd, grabbing his hand the way he did when he was a small boy. “Father, please.” They stumbled away at first, neither brave enough to look back as the screams of their neighbors and friends echoed into the night.
Charlie bolted upright, choking back tears. It was just a dream. Or maybe a memory that someone wanted her to see. Perhaps the dead girl she’d encountered had sent it to her. Charlie closed her eyes and pictured the spirit again. She’d worn a dirty nightgown, not a dress. The spirit was not Abby Heard, but something deep inside Charlie, some small intuitive voice told her that the spirit was tied to Abby. The question was how? Had Abby died? Or was she only playing dead before she massacred her captors? Clearly, they’d been right about her. She was a witch. No spirit could have controlled the elements the way Abby had in Charlie’s dream.
The smell of meat cooking wafted into the tent and her stomach growled loudly. Pale, filtered light illuminated the forest. She’d overslept. Achy numbness spread through her shoulders, and she massaged her neck to loosen the stiffness. How long had it been since she'd had a real meal? Only twenty-four hours. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
The crisp spring air chilled the skin of her face, but it wasn't cold enough to see her breath. The dream still clung to her, making her nerves ragged and raw. She knew what she had to do. She had to get away from Daniel, had to get across that river and back to her family.
It was Monday. Ostara. The whole reason she had come. Rebirth from the death of winter. The start of a new chapter in her life. After the initiation ceremony into her coven, she could no longer deny that she was a witch. For the first time, she wished she’d done the ceremony at the winter solstice instead. At least then she might be able to protect herself from the spirit and from Daniel.
Charlie scrambled to her knees and unzipped the tent. For a moment, she held her breath and peered out at the fire, which had turned into deep red coals. A makeshift spit held what looked like the carcass of a rabbit or some other small animal, maybe a squirrel? She didn't care; it smelled delicious. She climbed out of the tent scanning for any signs of the dead girl or Daniel. There were none.
She stood up putting her bare feet on the cold ground. A dull pain spread from her heel past her ankle to her lower calf. The eerie silence made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Daniel?”
She walked around the empty campsite and found her socks and her boots drying by the fire. A cold pang filled her chest. He must have come into the tent in the night to get the other boot and sock. The blood-soaked sock had been rinsed and wrung out. The brown-red stain had faded but had not completely disappeared. Panic squeezed her belly. Had he used up their two liters of water to do this?
“Daniel?” she called again, louder this time. The metal plate of Daniel’s camp kit along with a clean metal spork and the two bottles of water rested on a rock by the fire. Another energy bar sat inside the plate. Its tan plastic wrapping looked dull and faded in the early morning light. A piece of torn paper lay beside it. It read:
Eat and drink. Be back later. ~D
Her stomach agreed and she quickly unscrewed one of the bottles and drank half of it down in what felt like one gulp. Then, she took the meat roasting over the coals and tore half of the little animal’s body away. Despite its leanness, it greased her chin as she stripped each bone of meat. Even without salt, it tasted delicious.
She left half of the rabbit for Daniel. No need to be greedy. Daniel had done the work. She let her gaze scan the woods looking for his tall curly-haired form. He was nowhere to be found, though.
Here’s your chance, the little voice inside her head said. Escape now. It sounded seductive and ominous all at the same time. Charlie drank down the rest of her water and put the plastic cap back in place. She would take it with her in case she came across a creek or a spring. With any luck, though, she’d find the river.
Daniel’s backpack sat next to the pan, unzipped and inviting. He’d put the first-aid kit inside it after she dressed her heel yesterday. She dug through it and found a map, a leather folio, more energy bars and the red bag holding the first-aid supplies. She would just take a few extra bandages and one of the tiny packs of triple-antibiotic cream with her, just in case her heel started to bleed again. The wallet opened as she pulled out the kit. She bit the inside of her lip, debating with herself. Should she look? Was that an invasion of privacy?
Just one look for his full name. Something to give to the police once you’re safe.
She opened it fully and Daniel’s driver’s license photo stared back at her. His curly hair was shorter and he looked . . . happier. Less worried. Less confused.
“Weird,” she whispered, and brushed her thumb over the date. The licensed had expired over four years ago. Cold plucked at her heart. How long had he been out here? Based on his supplies, there was no way he’d been lost here for more than four years. She started to close the wallet and the corner of a photo caught her eye. She glanced around. She shouldn’t spy on him. She really shouldn’t. It was wrong. She would just take a quick peek and then put it back and get the hell out of here. She tugged lightly on the corner of the picture and it slid out of the wallet with ease. The photo was of Daniel and a lovely young woman with long dark hair. They both beamed at the camera. She wore a pale pink t-shirt that had three words printed in a yellow caution sign centered over her belly: Junior-On-Board. Daniel was pointing to the sign. So happy. So carefree. A pang of guilt filled Charlie’s chest, and she shoved the photo back into the wallet and the wallet back into the backpack. It was none of her business.
Finally, she took only what she needed from the first-aid kit. She tucked the extra bandages and ointment into the inner pocket of her jacket and zipped it up. Her hand wrapped around Scott’s compass. She pulled it out and placed it on the ground next to her. It would lead her to the river.
She quickly put on her dried socks and laced up her boots. Which direction to go? She looked back toward where they had come from, and a chill skittered across her shoulders. Not that way. The brass of the compass cooled her palm when she picked it up, and the site and lid flipped open with the brush of her thumb.
The red-tipped end of the needle floated in the top quarter of the compass face and held steadfastly. She glanced in that direction. North.
Would she find the river if she retraced their steps and found the place he’d first taken her after pulling her out? She reached into the backpack and pulled out the map. It wasn’t exactly like the one Scott had used to teach her how to use the compass, but it would have to do. She found north on the map and oriented her compass. The direction of blue curving river cutting its way through the mountains became clear. It wasn’t that far. She could find it before afternoon and be back with her family by dinnertime. And then she would send someone for Daniel.
For a few seconds, the lightness in her heart dissipated. By taking his map, she was abandoning him. He was just as lost as she was, wasn'
t he? Maybe leading her in circles wasn't purposeful. Maybe he just had no sense of direction.
You know better than that, a voice inside her head whispered. Keep moving forward. It is the only way to survive.
Charlie closed her eyes and whispered. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”
Then she headed toward the river without looking back.
Chapter 13
Lisa awoke at 6:00 a.m., more out of habit than anything else. If she were at home, she would have jumped on a treadmill in her condo’s gym. She liked to run. It helped clear her head. As she laced up her hiking shoes preparing to search for Charlie, she wished there were a treadmill or clear path that she could run without any sort of complications. The pent-up energy from the stress of the last twenty-four hours made her skin hum. Maybe today’s hunt would help expend some of that energy.
Downstairs she found Evangeline and Jen sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. The warm buttery aroma of biscuits hung in the air.
“Good morning,” Evangeline said, putting her coffee cup down on the table. Her long silver hair hung in a braid over one shoulder and the pale pink sweater she wore made her look younger than her fifty-eight years.
“Morning,” Lisa said. She headed straight for a cabinet and grabbed a mug and poured hot black coffee into it. She took a sip of the dark bitter roast, letting it wash over her tongue and down her throat, warming her and waking her at the same time. “So, is Jason still sleeping?”
“Yes.” Jen leaned forward. “I thought maybe Tom would be back by now but no sign of him yet.”
“How long have y’all been up?”
“Since 4:30,” Evangeline said.
“4:30? That's awfully early for vacation,” Lisa said.
Dark half-moons punctuated her sister's bright blue eyes. “It’s not like we got much sleep anyway.”