Vein Fire

by Adams, Lucia

  Time wasn’t predictable, but humans and animals were. Eventually Skye began running in circles, jumping, and barking. Hannah leaned forward to place the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. She stretched her arms upward, and stood up. Jared did the same—standing and following on the outside as she walked through the house. She opened the door a crack to allow Skye outside. Once the door closed, Jared stepped from the shadow and approached Skye, who was squatting in the grass. As soon as the dog was done, Jared whispered her name and Skye came to him. He scooped her up and walked into the shadows.

  The dog trembled in his hands, as though it knew its time as a dog was coming to an end, just as its time as a lamb was about to begin. Jared stroked the animal’s soft fur as he grabbed her skull in his palm and twisted until he heard a crack.

  Skye was limp in his hands, yet Jared continued to pet the dog until he laid her body at the base of a tree. Hannah was in the kitchen, opening the cupboards when Jared removed the cover from the box mounted to the corner of the house and cut the phone wires.

  Returning to where he had left Skye’s dead body, Jared pulled the dog into a small burp of light from one of the house windows and looked into its empty eyes, and then held the dog near his face and whispered into its fur.

  It was time. Jared used the paws of the lifeless dog to scratch at the rear door and then ducked into the shadows. Hannah opened the door, but when Skye did not come inside, she closed the door. Jared watched as she returned to the kitchen, pulling items in the refrigerator. Staying in the shadows, he ran to the front door and scratched as well. Hannah set a bowl of grapes on the kitchen counter and walked around to the front door, opening it.

  “Skye. Skye!” She sighed loudly. “Don’t make me come out and find you…stupid dog!”

  Through the oval glass door pane, Jared could see Hannah as she stood in the foyer by the front door and slipped her shoes on. Jared used the paws to scratch once again. She flung the door open and there stood Jared, a machete in one hand, and a dead Pomeranian in the other.

  “Hello, my little bird.”

  Hannah paled. Her attempt to slam the door shut failed as Jared’s foot returned the swing with a powerful kick. Hannah ran into the kitchen, her arms out at her sides as she bolted from the room. She grabbed the cordless phone, pressed the on button, and held it to her ear. She dropped the phone and ran out the back door. Jared followed.

  The clouds had rearranged in the sky, uncovering a bright, nearly full moon. The darkness, which had cooperated with Jared’s plan, was now unforgiving for Hannah’s fleeing escape. Jared stayed close behind Hannah as she ran down the main road. He was too near for her to dash to one of the neighbor’s homes; surely she thought he’d slaughter her as she waited for them to answer their door, so she ran.

  Not a particularly fast runner, her feet kept finding pot holes which threw off her balance. Jared learned from her footing and did not make the same mistakes. He could hear Hannah crying and suddenly, his medication-induced erectile dysfunction lifted, and he found it difficult to run with such an engorged cock.

  It was almost too easy to close in on her. He never knew how slow she ran. His hand stretched out, as he considered touching her hair, but he stopped as he raised the machete above his head. With the blade pointed away from her, he brought the unsharpened side of the weapon down across the back of her knee quickly.

  Hannah fell. Her palms pressed down into the dirt and her head hung as a string of spit inched from her lips. Jared stopped because she stopped. The purpose in striking her was to slow her down. He did not follow her as she got up and commenced running, although now she did so with an obvious limp. They had come to the edge of the cemetery, and Jared knew where she was going.

  CHAPTER 42

  Dirt

  Hannah’s thoughts were very simple, but repetitive: run and I’m going to die. The whack to the back of her leg hurt and it made the already pointless task of running even harder. When she had fallen, she expected the machete to come down across her body, but it did not. She knew this could only mean one thing: Jared was playing with her. It was impossible to outrun him, even though he now kept a distance behind her, but she thought if she could hide until daylight, she had a chance.

  Her feet sought the familiarity of the graveyard, where she had spent so many days playing hide and go seek. She knew the dips and divots in the ground there; she still had them memorized since childhood, and if she could make it to the giant oak tree, she could climb so high, she would not be found. Even if he looked for her there, the branches fingered out in such multitudes, she would be safe.

  Counting headstones, she raced onward. There were twenty-six white headstones in the last aisle and she checked them off as she passed them. The wind was starting to blow and the clouds were drifting back over the face of the moon. If she wanted to be able to find the tree quickly, she had to move fast. Jared was no longer in sight, but she suspected he was close behind.

  By the time Hannah reached the great oak, her shoes were wet from running through the dewy grass. It had been many years since she last climbed the tree, but like a fingerprint, her feet fit into the wood’s knot swirls that she had learned as a child. Because of her cast, her arm kept slipping and she struggled to find a secure grasp. The cast sloughed bark off of the trunk and the sound echoed through the maze of trees as her desperate climb upwards took her under the leafy canopy.

  The branch she settled on was as high as she dared go without fearing her weight would snap one of the tree’s generous arms off. As soon as she settled, with her legs wrapped around the branch, she began shivering. Human eyes weren’t meant to see in such light, but she strained as she searched for signs of Jared. After a few minutes, the clouds parted and even in the forest, Hannah could see things, but she was better off in the dark, because below her stood Jared, the machete in his hand, glistening in the silver light.

  “I see Hannah…” he sang. “I see a little blackbird in a tree.”

  Hannah did not move. She did not breathe. She did not think. Everything about her that was alive froze, pathetically hoping to blend in with the bark of the tree.

  Jared spoke in a calm, even tone, “Didn’t you know I knew you’d come here? Silly little bird…you think you hide everything, but you wear it all on your skin. Now I know you’re probably scared. Am I right? You are scared, aren’t you?” His voice was caught between pleading and a cocky assertiveness. His arms waved emphatically as he spoke. Hannah did not answer him. “I don’t want to scare you, Hannah. I love you. I want you to be the best that you can be. I know you don’t see your potential—but it is there. I’m going to help. I’m here to help. People don’t understand us, and they never will. You’ll spend your entire life going to doctors who will try to fix you, but ultimately, Hannah—you’re already fixed and you don’t even know it. What you need is inside of you. You need one event to set you free. And what Matt did to you? That just bound you to this earth. You deserve better. I’m going to give you better. But you have to listen to me. Can you do that? Will you do that?” Hannah was silent.

  “Hannah, answer me or I’ll get mad. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t listen. For the last time, will you listen to me?”

  “Yee—yes,” Hannah stuttered.

  “Well we have an understanding then. And you know…no one’s coming to rescue you. No one’s going to hear you scream. I know that has already passed through your head. So, there’s only two ways out of the tree for you…in pieces…” Jared struck the tree trunk twice with the machete, “…or you jump. So what’s it going to be? You want to jump, or do you want me to come up and get you?”

  Her voice was small and crackled with tears and fear. “I want to stay here.”

  There was a pause, and then Jared screeched, “Weren’t you listening? That’s not an option. What will it be…the machete, or will you jump?”

  Hannah did not answer. Her tears, snot, and spit gushed onto the tree bark. She could have done
so many things differently and not have ended up in an ordinary tree, in an ordinary forest, in the middle of an ordinary night. It was too late for that. Things were about to end, and she knew it.

  “I’ll help you make up your mind. I’ll start coming up the tree. If you want me to bring you down in pieces, stay on that branch and I’ll use it like a cutting board. If you’d rather jump, spring off before I get there.”

  Jared’s climb seemed deliberately slow. Hannah tried to judge the distance to the ground. It would be like jumping off of the roof of a house. She knew she’d break something, but there was a chance she’d be okay.

  Jared rested on a branch. “Hannah, before you jump, I want you to promise me something. Will you?” She didn’t respond, but he continued, “I want you to concentrate as hard as you can on flying when you jump. If you fly, you will land safely, or maybe even fly to a different tree. Can you do that?” Hannah still didn’t answer. Jared swung the machete at her, laughing. “Will you do that, little bird?”

  “Okay!” Hannah’s voice was a loud shrill. She tried to make it loud in case someone would hear her.

  Jared laughed, “Hannah—I told you—no one can hear you. But if my little blackbird wants to sing, I will make her sing.” He resumed his climb.

  Her lungs sucked in a great volume of air and she exhaled. Jared was three branches below her, so there was no climbing down to make the jump less dangerous. There was a way to make it easier, and despite being terrified, she could do it.

  Hate. No one could hate Hannah more than she hated herself. A thousand mistakes brought her to that tree, and it was her fault. If she had only been smarter, prettier, or knew how to say no…she let men use her and fuck her, so it was no wonder Jared had singled her out for his plan. She now realized that everything about her was a beacon. A jump out of the tree was the least she deserved. Jared was now two branches below her and he had started swinging the machete again. Hannah loosened her grip on the tree branch and sprung off of it.

  She felt the breeze catch her on the way down as her screams emptied into the night. The light passed by her so quickly—it looked like she was surrounded by stars until she landed with a loud crack on the ground, which forced all of the air out of her lungs and darkness engulfed her.

  *

  Small shrubs tearing at her skin woke Hannah up. I am not dead, was her first thought. It took her seconds to understand. Jared was dragging her body through the woods and she realized could not let him know she was conscious. In a bloody maze of disfigurement, Hannah felt that her right leg was broken below the knee and was bent in an unnatural way. Blood erupted from a cut on her head, and ran into her eyes. She was not sure if she could move even if she wanted to. She almost felt paralyzed, but as seconds passed, she realized she was feeling too much pain for that to be true.

  They stopped and Hannah wondered what their destination was. As soon as Jared rolled her body into the shallow grave, she knew he would be leaving her. It was the one thought which centered her enough to keep pretending she was dead. When he lifted her legs into the grave, she nearly screamed from the pain. Tears pressed out from the slits in her eyes, but she hoped he would not notice with all of the blood.

  Smelling the lavender was peculiar. The ground was damp and cold and she smelled it, too. Dirt pushed between the spaces that separated her fingers farther apart. Jared reached behind her head, pulled her hair out of the pony tail so it fell loose around her face, and spread it out to the edges of the grave. He placed the ribbon bow from her hair between her lips and began tossing the dirt over her.

  As prepared as he had been, he had grossly underestimated the depth of the grave. Hannah’s body took up most of the space so he only sprinkled some soil on her, and finally covered the spot with leaves and twigs from the forest floor.

  “There you go—not meant for the sky, but for the dirt.”

  After her burial, Hannah heard him walk away. Hannah thought he cared very little for hiding her body, as though the disappointment of his effort had worn a hole in his ambition to finish the project.

  Hannah remained terrified. She waited and prayed he did not come back. Even if morning came, she was not certain her body would work well enough to crawl out of the hole. The forest stirred and those sounds blended with the breeze upturning leaves. Hannah felt like Alice in Wonderland, but with a less desirable destination.

  CHAPTER 43

  Hobby

  Matt filled the absence of Hannah bevel up. Shooting heroin was a line he never expected to cross. But then again, he never knew he could feel such numb emptiness. The liquid plunging through his veins made him feel. In her absence, he made carpet angels and contemplated leaving messages on her answering machine.

  After work on Friday night, Matt had a guy he worked with take him to Pittsburgh to re-up. He was going through the heroin even faster now that he was shooting it himself. Habits such as his became full-time jobs.

  Customers were always waiting for him when he returned on re-up day. That night, Hannah number two was sitting on his porch steps when he arrived at home.

  “You’ve had quite the crowd waiting for you tonight.” She rested her elbows on her knees and squinted at him. “I told most of them to leave until later, and some others got sick of waiting.”

  “Thanks,” Matt murmured as he unlocked his door. Hannah followed him inside and locked the door behind her.

  “I’m gonna run some of this shit up stairs. How much were you buying?”

  “Just a bun.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back.” Matt had a safe bolted to the floor of his closet. Inside he put a roll of cash, his gun, and the brick of heroin he bought. Out of his right pocket, he pulled baggies of pills and weed and a few loose buns of heroin. After closing and locking the safe, he went downstairs and handed Hannah number two her bun. She gave him money and nodded.

  “Do you mind if I smoke some here? I’ve had a shitty fucking day.”

  Matt had second thoughts about it, but figured his Hannah wouldn’t show up this late, so he said, “Go ahead.”

  “Are you going to smoke with me?”Matt shot up in the car on the way back, but he answered, “Sure, light it up.”

  Their straws were greedy to seize the smoke before it disappeared into the air. Hannah leaned back on the couch, her skirt pulling up her thigh. Matt looked at it and she noticed. “What? You wanna fuck?”

  Matt missed his Hannah, but love was new to him and he didn’t know how to navigate it. Opportunity was familiar to him, so he said, “Yes.”

  They were quick because Matt expected customers to come soon. Like a well-worn hobby, he worked the girl until he was done with her. Afterwards, they smoked more and watched TV.

  “You know, that friend of yours is creepy.”

  “What friend?”

  “That Jared guy. He called me for a ride hours ago.”

  “Jared did?”

  She looked at Matt and rolled her eyes. “Err…yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “I thought he was still in jail or the hospital. Where did he want a ride to?”

  “His girlfriend’s house—someplace in buttfuck New Florence or something.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No—calm down. I’m not fucking kidding you.”

  Matt jumped up and dialed Hannah’s phone number. There was no answer. He grabbed the phone book off of the top of the refrigerator and scrambled for a number. He paused to dial it, listening carefully, but there was no answer there either. “Can you take me where you took Jared today?”

  “Fuck, it’s late and I’m high.”

  Matt screamed, “You stupid fucking whore, he’s going to kill her.”

  Hannah number two flinched. “Okay, okay, let me put my fucking shoes on.”

  *

  The car ride fucked with Matt’s hallucinations; he saw rabbits and severed fingers. To make things worse, she drove like shit—swerving and nodding off as she drove. When they arrived, Matt saw Hannah’s parent
s’ house illuminated with doors wide open. The car lights shone on the yard and Matt noticed Skye’s body in the grass. He jumped out of the car and ran to the lifeless dog. Matt bolted into the house and began searching for Hannah, calling her name. He found it empty, so he returned to the car and got in.

  “The phone in there is dead. We have to go to my mom’s and call the police.”

  “Call the police? Are you kidding me? We’re high as fuck.”

  “Walk across the street to my mom’s, tell her I sent you, call the police, and leave before they get here.”

  Matt searched the house and the yard again before he saw Hannah number two emerging from him mother’s house. “Are the police coming?” She nodded. “Then hurry up and leave.” She didn’t hesitate. Her eyes were saucers and she looked like she was tweaking. Matt started to run as she pulled away.

  Down the road, past Olivia’s house, towards the cemetery, he ran so hard it felt like sharp thorns stabbed his lungs. Like Hannah, he knew the cemetery well enough to jump over the big holes and hurry into the forest. He began calling her name, but stopped when he realized he was being too loud to hear if she responded. He looked around and screamed her name, holding his breath so he could listen for her. To his right, he heard something. He took two steps and saw the shovel leaning against a tree and then a nearby pile of soil.

  Matt’s stomach lurched. To him, the shovel indicated that Hannah was dead. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to rub his hands over the surface of the forest floor, searching for upturned soil.

  The dry leaves made it difficult to see the grave, but Hannah’s fingers sticking upwards snagged under his touch. He rushed to sweep the dirt and leaves off of her.