by Kim Liggett
“Why haven’t you called me back and what the hell happened to your hair?”
“Not today, Dale,” I mutter as I grab my bag.
He sits on my hood. He knows how much I hate that.
“What? You’re too good for me now that you’re back on the team? With Ali?” He’s flicking a lighter over and over again and all I can think about is my nightmare last night—that girl being burned alive.
I knock the lighter out of his hand and grab his shirt, pulling him off my truck. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
He blinks hard. “What’s gotten into you, cuz?”
“Just back off.” I let go of him and walk toward Tyler’s car. I feel bad, but I don’t want him anywhere near me right now. There’s too much death and uncertainty.
Ali slips her arms around me, running her hand over the back of my head, over the quarter-inch stubble. “There you are,” she says, and just like that I could melt into her, forget last night ever happened. But I can’t do that anymore, because tomorrow, Miss Granger will be back with the priests and all of this will end. One way or the other.
“Save it for after the game,” Tyler says without looking at us as he heads into school. “Give him some incentive to win.”
“We’re all going out to Harmon Lake tonight,” Tammy says with all the excitement of a sloth. “Bonfire.”
Ali smiles up at me, fresh as a newly tilled field. I trail my fingers down the red and black ribbons dangling from her braids and I have to believe all of this is going to work out.
If the Devil is real, then so is God.
And I have to believe he’s watching out for us.
51
THE STADIUM is packed. I don’t have to see it. I can feel it. The thunderous roar of boots stomping the bleachers in time with the marching band. The hum of the Jumbotron leaking through the thick concrete walls.
Some of the guys are praying. Some are taking it out on their lockers. I like to sit real quiet, study the playbook—clear my mind of any distractions. Before, it was simple worries like passing my trig exam or wondering if Ali liked me, not worrying if the Devil is coming to town for world domination. But worrying’s not going to help anybody. Miss Granger is doing her part. I have to do mine. She told me to win this game and that’s exactly what I intend to do. And the truth is, I want to win. I want to feel something other than pain and confusion and loss and madness. This is something I know how to do. I can run a play. I can throw a ball. I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, if there’ll even be a tomorrow, but this moment is mine and mine alone.
Eddie Landers comes by, giving me a thumbs-up. I know there was a lot of talk after my dad died, people saying I’d lost my arm. Lost my nerve. Sure, I’ve got something to prove, but it’s more than that. Football was always the one place I could let it all go. All I had to do was put that ball over the goal line. How I got it there was up to me. My call. My domain. My team. Some people might say quarterbacks have a God complex, but I don’t want to be God. I just want to feel connected to something bigger than myself. For one night, I don’t want to think about my dad or my family or Lee or Ali or the wheat or the Devil. All I want to do is play ball.
“You ready, Tate?” Coach’s hand comes down hard on my shoulder. “It’s showtime.”
He gathers us around to bend a knee.
“We’ve had a hell of a week—hell of a week!” he yells. “Lost one of our own. Tonight, you don’t play for your mama or your daddy or your girlfriends. You play for Big Ben. Ben Gillman. He loved this team more than anything in the world. He loved football. His funeral’s on Sunday at Newcomers. I expect all of you to be there and I expect to be burying him with the winning ball from tonight’s game. The winning ball! And we’ve got this. We got our captain back—the Tate-en-Nator. You listen to every goddamn word that comes out of his mouth out there. He knows how to bring home the W. And you know what happens if we win this?”
“Women!” one of the guys calls out. A low chuckle rumbles through the locker room.
“Well, yeah, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of that. Despite our checkered season”—everyone stares at Tyler—“you’ll have a chance at redemption. You’ll be heroes. Tonight’s not just any game. We’re playing our rivals, the Sooners. Whether they win or lose, they’re going to State, but we have the opportunity to show ’em what we’re made of. This is the real championship right here. There won’t be a trophy, there won’t be any rings…” I feel eyes on me from every direction. I know they all blame me for taking it away from them last year, when I lost it out on that field and nearly killed that kid. “But you’ll be able to hold your head high in this town for the rest of your lives. The Sooners want to take that away from you. But this is our turf. We need to show them how real men take land … by force, like our ancestors did before us.”
I almost burst out laughing. If they only knew.
“We’re faster, tougher, smarter … and we will take this field. We will take what’s ours! On three.”
“One, two, three.”
“Pioneers!”
We storm through the doors and onto the field.
The band strikes up our fight song, the rush of pom-poms, the roar of the crowd, the lights, the cameras. This is Oklahoma football. No fucking joke.
On instinct, I glance up at the stands to where my parents used to sit. Mr. and Mrs. Neely are there now, clapping and screaming with a crazed look in their eyes. I shake it off. Not now. I can’t let anything get in my way, get in my head.
The Sooners fans are booing us as we take the field.
As much as they want to see me fail, they’re looking for magic. They want to believe. They’re looking for salvation. Redemption. And if throwing a pigskin ball at fifty miles per hour like a spinning Scud missile precisely into the hands of your receiver isn’t magic … I don’t know what is.
We huddle up. First play of the night.
I know what they’re expecting, I’ve always played it smart, but I don’t want to take this slow and steady. We need to show them what it’s gonna be like—set the pace. “We’re not going for a first down,” I say to the team. “We’re going for the touchdown. Miracle Whip, for Ben. Are you guys with me?”
They answer in unison without the slightest hesitation. They trust me out here.
“Who’s my runner?” I ask.
“I got this.” Tyler nods.
“You sure? Because I’m going to deliver that ball right into your hands. If you drop it, that’s on you.”
“I’m sure.”
Tyler’s putting up a good front, but he looks nervous.
“Okay. After the first pushback, I want all eyes on Neely. Protect him out there.”
We break and get into position.
“Walleye 24. Trent 43. Pine 22. Hut.”
The offensive line is gunning for me—coming at me from every angle. After the initial hit, I send my guys down the field. Fake to the left, fake to the right. I spin out of a tackle, giving them as much time as possible to get into position. A guy’s coming at me—280 pounds of pure pain—but I stand my ground, waiting as long as I can before I let go of the ball. I take the hit; it knocks me clean off my feet, crushing the wind right out of my lungs. I lift my head, but all I see are blurs of light moving in the inky darkness. I hear the crowd going crazy. I look up into the stands, but they’re empty now. I clench my eyes shut and when I open them again, hundreds of people are walking onto the field. They’re smiling, but their eyes are pure black orbs—inhuman and hungry.
“He’s coming,” they chant as they crowd around me. “He’s coming,” they say as they reach out to touch me.
Not now. Not here.
“Tate!” A hand reaches through the wall of bodies, pulling me to my feet and away from the darkness.
“We did it!” Tyler grabs onto my helmet, forcing me to look him in the eyes. The other guys ram into us, whooping it up. I stagger back and look around the stadium—everything’
s back to normal. I must’ve blacked out for a minute … that’s all.
I glance over at Ali cheering on the sidelines, beaming with excitement, the end of her red and black ribbons grazing her shoulder blade. She has no idea what’s coming for her. For all of us.
Tyler jerks my face mask. “Are you with us, Tate?”
“Yeah.” I pull away from him and get my head back in the game. I shut it down, all of it, until it’s just me and the ball again.
Play after play, touchdown after touchdown, I let go of everything I’ve been holding inside of me. The anger, the hurt, the fear, the violence, the lust, the confusion, the rage, until there’s nothing left of me, until we’ve annihilated the Sooners, brought them to their knees. I’ve sent them off this field in humiliation and I’m not sorry for it. I did what I came out here to do and now it’s time to move on.
I sign the ball. R.I.P. And that’s the last time I’ll touch a football.
And I can finally live with that.
52
THE RIDE to Harmon Lake is like something out of a dream: the ache in my muscles from a hard-won battle out on the field, the feel of Ali’s warm body nestled against me, her hand on my thigh—dangerously close to everything I wanted before all this happened.
It’s probably a mistake giving her a ride like this, being this close to her before the exorcism, but I want to protect her. I know Miss Granger says it doesn’t matter, that it’s still Ali, but when I’m with her, in that way, I want it to be for real. For keeps. Mind, body, and soul. Nothing clouding our judgment. It’s probably corny and maybe I’m kind of corny, but I think we both deserve that much.
But she’s certainly not making it easy.
Ali’s kissing my neck, running her hand over my chest. “We don’t have to go to the lake, you know. We could just get lost,” she says, gently biting down on my ear.
“Lost, huh?” I laugh. “In this two-stoplight town?”
She slides her hand down to unbutton my jeans. I almost hit the mile marker sign for Harmon Lake.
I barrel into the makeshift lot and slam on the brakes. There’s a ton of cars already here. I can see the glow of the bonfire in the distance.
“Ali…” I put my hand on top of hers to stop her, but she’s not listening to me.
“I can tell you want to,” she whispers.
I let out a shuddering breath as she frees me from the rest of the buttons. I start to say something when she lowers her head.
I want to stop her, I know I should, I will. “Ali,” I say as I pry my hand off the steering wheel and pull back her hair so I can see her face, but that only makes it worse.
“Pioneers!” A guy screams as he passes the truck, raising two twelve-packs above his head.
Ali giggles, but she doesn’t stop.
As much as I want to forget everything and disappear into her, into this moment, I grasp onto the back of her neck, feeling the brand beneath my thumb, the raised mark … the invitation, and pull her off me. “This isn’t right.”
“I don’t understand.” She sits up, pushing her shiny dark hair out of her face. Her eyes are soft brown with flecks of light gold. “Don’t you like it?”
“Believe me … I do.” I look straight ahead at the bonfire in the distance as I button my jeans—anywhere but her soft lips. “Just not like this … not yet.”
“Then when?”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “If you can just give me a little more time.”
“Is this about Miss Granger?” Her eyes well up with tears. “Were you with her last night? Is that why you left me at the Preservation Society?”
“There’s a lot more to it than that.”
“I’m not going to wait forever, Clay. Time’s running out,” she says as she gets out of the car.
“Ali, wait!”
She turns back. “I’ve tried everything. I want to be with you. I thought this was settled. But I can’t make you choose me.”
“Ali, it’s not that. It’s always been you—”
“Then show me.” She takes off into the woods.
I will my body to calm the hell down and go looking for her.
I’ve been to some ragers out here, but never anything like this. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s blasting, people are wasted, a few couples are practically doing it right out in the open. The bonfire’s huge and putting out a ton of smoke. And there’s a weird herb smell, same thing I smelled in the secret room at the Preservation Society. You can probably see the smoke all the way to Gerard County. Dumbasses. This party’s going to get busted before they even shoot off the fireworks.
I fan away the smoke, looking for Ali, when I spot Tyler dancing on the bed of a truck with some girl. His hands are all over her ass and she’s grinding up on him. The girl turns to face me, and I do a double take. It’s Tammy. She sees me watching her. She smiles as she leans back, kissing Tyler. It’s not a peck on the cheek, it’s a full-on kiss with tongue, but Tammy never takes her eyes off me.
A bunch of guys from the team start howling and whistling at them. And I want to rip their heads off.
“She’s staring right at you, man. She wants you.” Pete Adams elbows me in the ribs with his beer bottle. “The quiet ones are always the kinkiest,” he adds dreamily.
“Grow the fuck up,” I say to Pete as I push through the crowd to get to her.
This isn’t Tammy—the Tammy I know would never act like this. I’ve got to get her out of here before she does something she regrets.
“Think you’ve had enough.” I grab on to her and lift her off the truck bed.
“I knew you’d choose me,” she says, wrapping her legs around me.
Prying her off me, I set her down. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“I’m not leaving until you kiss me right here … right now. Like you mean it.”
“Oooh…” A crowd gathers round.
She doesn’t realize what’s happening. What’s inside of her. What’s driving her.
I take a deep breath to tell her that’s not going to happen, when the smoke hits me. I stagger back a little, the ground tilts, the fire’s spinning in front of me.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m trying so hard to focus. I feel like I’ve seen this all before but I can’t figure out from where.
I open my eyes to see Tyler whispering to Tammy. Is the Devil speaking through him? I saw him whispering to Jimmy down in that cell at the Preservation Society. I saw him whispering to Ben on the field after he turned on me at practice, and now this …
“Relax, Clay.” Tammy steps forward, and suddenly she’s taking off her clothes. “Come skinny-dipping with me.”
“This is the Devil, Tammy. This isn’t you.” I take off my coat so I can wrap it around her, but a bunch of guys grab on to me, holding me back.
“Let her do it, man.”
She just smiles as she strips down naked right there on the muddy bank. “Come with me, Clay, please.” She takes off her glasses and pulls the elastic out of her hair, wading into the dark water.
I jerk out of the hold to find everyone raging around me, egging her on. They don’t understand what’s really happening here.
Tammy swims out to the floating dock where they’ve set up the fireworks and climbs up, lighting a flare.
“He’s coming, Clay,” she calls out. “He’s coming for all of us.”
The green glow of the flare … her pale naked body … the reddish sheen to her hair … I’ve seen this before, but in my dream the girl was encircled by flames.
The fireworks.
“No … no!” I slip off my shoes, diving into the frigid water.
“Yeah, Tate. Thatta boy.” People are yelling after me.
“Tammy, stop!” I scream as I come up for air again. The smell of sulfite and gunpowder hits my nostrils. It’s so dark; the water’s so murky. In the fading glow of the flare I can just make out her silhouette as she’s pulling the caps off a bunch of M-80s, emptying the contents around the dock.
&nb
sp; “Blessed be the seed. This is all for the chosen one,” she says as she drops the flare, setting off a circle of flames on the dock, which swiftly engulf her body. She screams in agony as the fire burns her hair, her skin, but she doesn’t move an inch.
“Jump in the water!” I call out to her, but she doesn’t listen. I try to grasp on to the ladder and pull myself up, but the metal’s scalding hot.
As I sink back into the water, all I can do is watch the flesh melt off her bones, until she’s nothing more than a charred mass.
I look back at the pandemonium on the shore. People are screaming, taking off, running into the woods. Sirens are blaring in the distance. But that’s not what makes me freeze in place. Stepping out of the woods toward the shore is Noodle. She’s in her nightgown, dragging the dead calf beside her.
53
“CLAY TATE?” A voice booms over a megaphone, harsh lights blinding me, making my vision of Noodle disappear. “Step out of the water with your hands up.”
For a second, I can’t even process what they’re saying. I turn away from the floodlights, looking back at the floating dock, at Tammy’s charred remains, and I know how it looks. I’m treading water in front of her goddamn corpse.
I think about taking off, swimming as far as I can. If I reach the creek it could carry me all the way to Love County. But then I think about Noodle, Jess, and Mom. All I have to do is hang on until tomorrow. Miss Granger will be back. She can fix this. They’ve got nothing on me except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When I get close enough to the shore to stand up, Deputy Tilford storms in and grabs me, throwing me down onto the muddy bank, drilling his knee into my kidney, as he cuffs me.
“Sheriff!” I scream into the blur of flashing red lights. “I need to talk to Sheriff Ely.”
“I’m the deputy in charge,” Tilford says as he hauls me to my feet. “Sheriff’s out there looking for your sister. Lost cause if you ask me, but I’m more than happy to get some alone time with you.”
“Tell him to go to the campground,” I plead as he drags me to his police car and crams me in the back. “Find Lee. Find Jess!” I manage to get out before he shuts the door.