by Kim Liggett
“That’s great, Noodle.” I glance at myself in the rearview mirror and wince. Man, I look like hell. “Show it to me when I get home, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Okay. Bye,” she yells into the receiver. I rub my temples.
I know I should go home, try and piece together what happened last night, but I really need to talk to somebody—an adult—before I lose my mind. Sheriff isn’t an option, and Miss Granger’s unavailable. The only person I can think of is Reverend. He said I could come and talk to him anytime. Pretty sure there’s a confidentiality thing. He’s a man of God … so he must believe in the Devil, too.
26
I PULL into the dirt lot at Midland Baptist. The only car is Reverend’s old maroon Buick parked out back by the little apartment he lives in. I wonder why he didn’t park in his garage. His car’s got an I LOVE JESUS sticker along with the mandatory I LOVE MIDLAND HIGH PIONEERS. God and football—one and the same in this town.
I glance at the clock on my dash: 7:42. He must be getting ready for his sermon by now. I heard he downloads them straight off the Internet.
I sit on the front steps of the church and wait for him. It’s so different from All Saints. There’s no extravagance or mystical outfits. What you see is what you get, from the rotting wood steps to the chipped white paint. The founding families built this with their bare hands. We don’t have some fancy baptism font—we go down to the creek that spills over from Harmon Lake for our baptisms. People might call us backwoods, but it seems more honest in some way. The people in this town might whoop it up on a Saturday night, get in brawls, cheat on their spouses, go down to the old trailers near Ted Bannon’s junkyard looking for meth, but they’ll always show up here on Sunday morning to make amends.
I don’t even know what I’m doing here, what made me come here. Maybe it was Reverend dressed as Jesus last night. I know it sounds stupid, especially because I don’t really believe in that anymore, but there’s a part of me that wants to. Maybe he can help, not with Ali or the others, but help me, with my soul. “Lay your burdens down.” That’s what they’re always singing about in those hymns. I want to lay them down and leave them here. Part of me thinks we should’ve gotten out of Midland when we had the chance, but I’ve seen enough horror movies to know you can’t run from the Devil.
“Clay Tate!” Reverend swings around the corner. “What a nice surprise.”
He’s got a mug full of milky coffee that smells more like candy than coffee, his Bible tucked under his arm. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Couldn’t find my dang keys. Had to dig around for the spares.” He yanks up his collar, but not before I spot the hickey on his neck.
I glance back at the garage. He must have company. I wonder who it is.
“From the looks of you and me, I think it’s safe to guess we both got a little carried away last night. I’m a sinner, Clay, but I think the big guy will forgive me. Praise the lord,” he says with a nervous laugh.
He goes to unlock the door, only to find keys already dangling from the lock. “That’s strange,” he murmurs. He turns the knob and pushes the door open.
The odor hits us like a brick wall.
Like rotting meat and herbs. The sound of flies buzzing around.
At the front of the church, directly in front of the pulpit, is Jimmy Doogan. Stark naked, kneeling at the altar.
“Guess we’re not the only ones who had a fun night.” Reverend laughs. “Son, you better skedaddle,” he calls out to him. “Folks are going to start showing up here any minute and unless you want them to see your—holy mother of God.” He gasps as he drops his coffee and Bible.
I step around Reverend; I feel drawn to the altar. Jimmy’s eyes are open. Pure black. His pale white skin looks like it’s made of marble. His mouth’s agape, like he’s getting ready to tell me something. There’s a bloody knife next to him. In front, the symbol, the upside-down U with two dots above and below, smeared in blood. I can’t tell what he’s holding, but his hands are cupped in front of him, on his lap, just like Noodle from my dream.
I crouch so I can feel for a pulse. As soon as I make contact with his neck, I know he’s dead. I know the feel of dead flesh. I glance down at his cupped hands. He’s holding something smooth and sticky with dark blood. It takes a while for my brain to catch up to what I’m seeing. And when it hits me, hot acid rises in my throat.
I stagger back, knocking over the American flag on a stand and bashing into the upright piano, my fingers slamming down on the keys. I careen outside to see the lot filling up. People smiling, greeting each other. Ladies carrying casseroles, men straightening their ties. I see the sheriff and his wife get out of their car. Ely’s eyes lock on mine; I feel my insides crumble.
“Clay, what is it?” Sheriff says as he steps toward me.
Unable to produce a sound, I slump down on the steps, my hands trembling.
“Help!” Reverend yells from inside the church. I put my hands over my ears. I can’t stand to hear his voice. “Help,” he yells louder and louder like a cranked up siren, gaining strength with every rotation of breath.
Sheriff gives me the strangest look before he hurries into the church. People are rushing in from every direction. Someone calls an ambulance. There’s weeping and throwing up. I peer through the chaos, across the lot, to see Ali, Tyler, Ben, and Tammy leaning against the back of Tyler’s car. They’re just staring at me, like they’re not surprised in the least. Could they’ve had something to do with this?
“Clay.” Miss Granger grabs my arm, pulling me away from the church. I didn’t even see her pull up. She’s wearing the same clothes from last night. She looks a mess, like she hasn’t slept a wink.
“He’s dead,” I murmur. “It’s starting, isn’t it? I dreamt about this last night. Jimmy’s the first one to fall. We need to warn the others, we need to tell Sheriff Ely.”
“Clay, look at me,” she says forcefully. “You can’t tell them you had a premonition of Jimmy’s death or they will lock you up at Oakmoor. Believe me, that’s not a place you want to be right now. You have to trust me on this.”
Sheriff steps out of the church, pushing everyone back.
“I need you to go home,” Miss Granger pleads as she leads me to my truck. “Go about your normal Sunday.”
“But…”
“If anyone comes to talk to you, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”
I look back at the church to find Sheriff staring right at me, like he knows.
She nudges me into the truck.
As I pull out of the lot, I can feel the eyes of the Preservation Society kids on me like I’m a moving target. I can’t believe how calm and collected they are. Is this punishment for what Jimmy did to Jess? Is that what this is about? Did they do it for me? Tyler threatened him last night, but so did I, and I have no alibi for my whereabouts last night. I was in the woods, alone, having a prophetic dream because I’m a goddamn prophet. I grab my cap off the dash and pull it down low. I look down at my hands, the dried blood under my fingernails, and I wonder, could I have done this myself?
27
I HEAD straight for the combine. I can’t bear to go inside the house and face Mom, Noodle, and Jess—not after everything that’s happened.
I try to call Miss Granger again, but it goes straight to voice mail. “Damn it,” I yell, as I shake my phone. I feel like I’m going crazy. Of course Dale’s called like a million times. I guess he hasn’t heard about Jimmy’s death yet, because all he wants are details on Ali. Heard we got caught making out in the Hell House. I swear, this town … nothing stays buried for long.
As I crank up the combine, I try to erase the image of Jess on that cot, staring back at me like she knew what was coming and she didn’t care, like she’d already given up on herself … and me. Jimmy kneeling at the altar … Noodle giving me the “gift” in my dream … the doll … the calf.… the clouds … the sound of the combine grinding through the wheat … the feel of the wheel in my hands pulsing like
the tendon in Jimmy’s neck—everything seems to be a reminder.
The wheat has always been an escape for me, a sanctuary, but now it feels like a prison, like it’s closing in around me.
As I near the fence line of the Neely ranch, I make a wide turn. I’m working my way back toward the house when I spot a cloud of dust moving down our drive. Hopefully it’s Miss Granger, because we really have to talk. I’m nearly back to the equipment shed when I spot a tan cowboy hat bobbing up and down through the wheat. My heart withers in my chest. I know that hat. Belongs to Sheriff Ely. And it’s not some fake nod at being country—he is country.
I turn off the combine and wait. I try Miss Granger one last time, but she doesn’t pick up.
Pushing my hair back from my face, I readjust my cap, trying to remember what she told me at the church. Act normal. Don’t say anything.
“Looking good,” Sheriff says as he scans the crops. “You’re not using the same pattern as your dad.”
“Nope.” I try to act casual, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to have the sheriff standing on my land, shooting the shit after I just fled a murder scene. “Just using the force, I guess.”
“Is that right?” He puts his boot up on the tread of the combine, and all I can think about is the calf. I wonder if there’s any blood spatter underneath that tread. “I just wanted to come over here … chat a bit.” He looks up at me, eyes like a coyote, luring me into some kind of trap.
“It’s terrible what happened to Jimmy,” I say, as I reluctantly climb down out of the safety of the combine.
“Yep. Never seen anything like it.” He breaks off a shaft of wheat, sticks it in his mouth, and walks around the combine until he’s facing the Neely ranch. “Not the worst thing I’ve seen. You either.” He glances back at me, trying to size me up. “But this was strange. We had that case a few years back when Mrs. Timmons tried to give her husband that botched vasectomy after he’d passed out from another night of tomcattery. But never seen anyone do it to themselves before.”
“What?” My throat goes bone dry.
I can feel him studying me, which makes me even more self-conscious. “Coroner came, said Jimmy did it himself. And his prints were all over the keys. Must’ve swiped them from the reverend at the Harvest Festival. Damndest thing.” His steely blue eyes dig into me. “Do you know what might make Jimmy Doogan do something like that?”
I swallow hard, thinking about him standing over my sister, my hands around his throat last night squeezing the life out of him. “No.” I look down at the decimated wheat under my feet. “Can’t imagine.”
“Hmm…” There’s a long pause, but I don’t dare look at him. “See, I heard there was a little scuffle at the Preservation Society last night.”
I press my lips together so I won’t blurt out anything stupid.
“Heard he was getting fresh with your sister—”
“Who told you that?” A flash of anger rises up inside of me. I don’t want to bring Jess into this. Don’t want anybody talking about her even more than they already did.
“Doesn’t matter.” Ely shrugs, but he’s still watching my every move. “You’re not in any trouble, Clay. Neither’s Jess. I’m just trying to get the full picture.”
“A lot of people were pissed at Jimmy last night,” I say as I pretend to check the tires.
“Including Tyler Neely. Am I right?”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I look out over the wheat shivering in the wind. My eyes veer toward the breeding barn … the blood … the flies. I clear my throat. “I’d love to sit and chat, but if you don’t mind, I have a harvest to finish.”
Sheriff lets out a deep sigh. “All right, Clay.” He pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “If anything comes to mind, anything at all, I want you to call me.”
I give him a curt nod and climb back into the combine.
I don’t even wait for him to leave before I rev up the engine, feeling the earth tremor beneath me. I know he can feel it, too, but he doesn’t move a muscle.
Grinding the gear into place, I make a sweeping arc around him, hoping he gets a good pelting by the discarded wheat stems. Sheriff needs to keep his nose out of this if he knows what’s good for him. Whatever made Jimmy do it, it’s strong enough to stop Sheriff in his tracks. That much I’m sure of.
The Devil is here.
Sheriff Ely doesn’t know it yet, but he needs saving, too.
28
MONDAY MORNING rolls around and I can’t even imagine the spectacle of what today will bring at Midland High—news cameras will probably be set up everywhere, people crying, talking about what a great guy Jimmy was.
But as I pull into the lot, I’m stunned to see it looks just like any other day. No cameras, no armbands, no tears. The only difference is there’s one less set of eyes staring at me from Tyler’s dickmobile.
I turn off the engine and glance down at my hands. I can’t stop thinking about them around Jimmy’s throat. I might’ve done it, too—killed him right then and there if they hadn’t pulled me off of him. So if the Preservation Society had something to do with his death, why’d they stop me?
Dale backs up against my window, his arms wrapped around himself pretending to make out with someone. “Oh, Clay, don’t stop. You’re such a big strong man, Clay.”
I open the door, jabbing into his body, making him stagger forward.
“Real funny,” I say as I grab my backpack.
“Why didn’t you call me back?” he asks.
“If this is about Jimmy Doogan, I don’t know anything—”
“Forget Jimmy Doogan.”
I look at him sharply.
“What? He was a little prick. But that’s a pretty gnarly way to kill yourself.”
“How’d you know he killed himself?”
He shakes his head. “Dude, it’s Midland. Anyway, I heard he’s been in counseling for months with Miss Granger. Maybe you should think about getting a new counselor.”
I try to play it off, but I can’t believe Miss Granger didn’t tell me. I know she said she’d been keeping an eye on all the Preservation Society kids, but why wouldn’t she have told me about it when we were talking about Ali being in counseling? She said she didn’t tell me because she didn’t know if she could trust me. Does she still not? It makes me wonder, what else is she keeping from me?
Dale’s snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Clay.”
“What?” I bat his hand away.
“I need the real dirt … you and Ali?”
I glance over at her. She’s leaning against Tyler’s car with the others. She smiles at me, but not in a creepy way. Her face is soft, almost wistful. It’s hard to believe she’d ever be mixed up in something like this.
She’s wearing a Pioneers T-shirt with a pair of faded Levis.
“Hey, that’s my shirt,” I murmur. She stole it from me a couple years back to use as a sleep shirt, but I’ve never seen her wear it in public. It has my number on it and everything.
“That’s a sign, you dumbass,” Dale says, as he stands next to me. “She’s basically saying she wants you all over her body.”
Maybe it is a sign, but not like Dale thinks. Maybe she’s trying to give me some kind of secret signal.
“So, you’re just going to stare at her from across the lot? That’s pathetic, man. Even for you. You better check yourself before you wreck yourself,” Dale says as he takes off after some freshman girls, clucking at them like a chicken. For some godforsaken reason they seem amused.
As I make my way over to Tyler’s car, I’m thinking about what I’m going to say to Ali—to any of them—but it turns out I don’t have to say anything at all.
“Get in.” Tyler swings his door wide open, blocking my path.
“What? Now?” I look around. “First bell’s about to ring.”
“Let’s call it a sick day.” Ben comes up behind me, slapping me hard on my shoulder.
“We just want to talk,” Tammy s
ays as she gets in the backseat, never once taking her eyes off the ground in front of her.
I look to Ali. She gives me a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, okay … sure.” I swallow harder than I’d like. “Just let me put my bag in the truck.”
As soon as I turn away from them, a shuddering breath escapes my lungs. Sheer panic starts taking over—my eyes are watery, my throat’s bone dry. I clutch the keys in my hand, the metal notches digging into my palm, and I’m thinking I could just take off … get in my truck and keep going. But where could I possibly go? Everything I love, everything I am, is right here in Midland.
I lean in my truck, pretending to stash my bag under the seat, while I frantically text Miss Granger. They want me to go with them. In Tyler’s car. What do I do?
As I’m waiting for a response, I peer up at them over the steering wheel. My heart’s pounding in my chest. There’s a part of me that’s telling me, screaming at me, to keep my distance until the exorcism. I did my part, now it’s time to let the church take care of this … but there’s Ali. I don’t think I have the strength to walk away from her.
I text Miss Granger again. Why won’t you answer me? I need your hel—
“You won’t be needing that where we’re going,” Ali says as she slips in behind me, turning off my phone. “No cell service.”
I’m not sure if she saw the text or not, but as I follow her back to Tyler’s car, it feels like a death march.
I get in the backseat—Tammy on one side, Ali on the other. Tyler’s driving, Ben’s riding shotgun.
As we pull out of the lot onto Main Street, I can’t help wondering if this is it. If this is the last anyone will ever see of me, or if I’ll come back different … branded.
29
TYLER SLOWS down as we near the Preservation Society. All I can think about is the secret room. The real one Ali told me about before we found Jess and Jimmy in the cell. Is that where they’re taking me? I lean back in my seat, running my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans. Tyler smirks at me in the rearview mirror, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and then revs the engine, racing down Main Street, toward the outskirts of town.