This place is vile.
I try not to look at the trees to avoid seeing the demons launch into flight. I keep my head down and study the dirt track, hoping my feelings are wrong. Maybe we can stay here two days and leave like Ryan has planned without anything happening.
“What are you looking at?” Aunt Kate turns and asks. “All this beauty, and you’re staring at the ground?”
Would you believe in demons if I told you, Aunt Kate? Or would you throw me into some sort of home for the mentally disturbed?
I want to tell her what I see. There have been many times I started to, but I always stop. I don’t think she believes in God even though we used to go to church sometimes before she met Ryan.
Until I know the answer to that question, I’m not saying a word.
“Looking for gold!” I say, forcing a big smile. “This is where it is, right? We’re going to be rich. No, I’m going to be rich!”
“And what are you going to do with your gold?” Ryan teases.
“Don’t even need to think about it. Buy a GTO, yellow with black stripes.”
“What’s that? A car?” Aunt Kate stops to take a picture of Ryan walking down the road.
“Think of Bumblebee in the Transformers,” I explain.
“And the girl to go with the car?” Ryan winks.
“Okay, you two,” Aunt Kate breaks in. “Enough! It’s more important that a girl is nice.”
Ryan nods soberly to Aunt Kate. When she’s distracted by taking pictures of some wildflowers beside the road, he turns back to me. He whispers, “She’s right. Look at Kate. I chose nice over hot!”
Laughter escapes before I can stop it, and I’ve put Ryan in the danger zone of Aunt Kate’s wrath. She glances back at us as Ryan assumes an air of innocence, but his hazel eyes are twinkling with mischief.
“I heard what he said!” she speaks to me as she jabs a finger at Ryan. “And he’s going to pay for it!”
“Oh, I forgot,” Ryan bursts into laughter. “I didn’t choose nice or hot!”
He takes her finger and pulls her close for a hug to take the sting out of his joke. I roll my eyes. They are so embarrassing. Even in the middle of the wilderness.
We cross a wooden footbridge that leads to a sign explaining the history of Boot Hill. I pause to read it while Ryan and Aunt Kate cross the bridge to the cemetery.
Now a ghost town, Fabulous Florence was a rip-roaring place. It boomed from 50 people to 9,000 in one year. By June 1862, it had produced $7 million dollars. With the gold came violence, robbery and murder. Florence became one of the roughest towns of the West. H.J. “Cherokee Bob” Talbotte reigned as the town tyrant until he was killed in 1863.
Boot Hill is all that remains of Florence. Legend has it that the "Good Guys" were buried pointing East and West so they could see the sun come up and go down, and the "Bad Guys" were buried pointing North and South.
The Chinese exhumed their relatives and sent them back to China. You can see the empty graves still.
I wander up the short hill and enter the cemetery. Aunt Kate and Ryan have separated as they meander through the graves. I enter the gravesite, careful not to step where a wooden tombstone marks a grave. A quick scan shows that there are far more graves pointing north and south. I could count the number of “good guys” on one hand.
My heart thuds in my chest so hard that it hurts. I stop to scan for demons.
It’s eerie. Even the birds aren’t singing anymore.
Despite the abundance of pine and fir trees in the area, the trees in the cemetery are, according to Ryan’s lectures in the truck, lodgepole pine, tall trees covered with white bark only have branches growing at the top.
Some of the graves are grown over. One grave has the name Baby on it. There’s no clue if it was a nickname or a real baby. Most have the date of death, but nothing for the birthdate. It’s easy to tell that people were dying, and no one knew much about them.
Most of the tombstones have fallen to the ground. In the back, I find H.J. Talbotte’s grave laying north to south. It has both his given name and nickname, Cherokee Bob, engraved into the wood, not scratched hastily like the others.
Unlike the other graves, the grass is cut short over it and flowers grow beside it. It’s been tended recently.
That disturbs me.
Who would care, hundreds of years later, enough to drive all the way out into the middle of nowhere to take care of a grave of someone so awful?
This well-tended grave from 1862 gives me the overwhelming urge to run far away from this place.
Wasn’t there anyone good who died that the people could’ve told visitors about, instead of emphasizing the evil?
Another thought hits me. I scan the names on the graves. Not one of them is a woman. There had to be women in Florence, as homesteaders or bar girls. And some of them must have died.
Where are they?
The icy strands of dread and fear creep in me, and I can’t shake them.
We shouldn’t have ever come to this place.
Chapter Nine
Sick Shade of Pink
As the sun sets, we head back to the campsite and pull our raw hamburger patties out of the cooler.
“We’ll explore more tomorrow,” Ryan promises as he lights the fire. “There are a few cabins still standing and some mines we can check out.”
I flop into a lawn chair, wanting desperately to respond with sarcasm about my great enthusiasm of looking at ruined log cabins when I used to wander the museums of Chicago, but I don’t.
I don’t do anything. I keep my mouth shut. I hold back my temper that always lingers in me. Just like always. Maybe if Dad had done that, the result would have been different. But I can’t think about that now.
Not here. Not where the slightest slip of control on the darkness inside of me could lead to disaster.
Ryan notices my silence. “What’s wrong, bud?”
I don’t respond right away. “Nothing.”
“You haven’t said more than ten words today.” Ryan rocks back on his heels. “In fact, we haven’t really talked since you got here from Chicago.”
Oh, no.
He is going to start into something.
Why can’t you leave me alone for a while? Don’t you know what I’m trying to hold back? Of course you don’t. I can’t tell you.
I shrug. “We’ve been busy, I guess.”
Ryan starts to say something, but the Carrolls burst out of their camper and pick their way through the long grass toward us. Ryan gives me a look that lets me know we aren’t done yet. Our talk is just delayed.
I breathe a sigh of relief that the battle with Ryan is over for now, but as the Carrolls get closer, I know that there’s a worse one on its way.
Megan’s wearing a red shirt with Nike written in white. Her dark hair is pulled into a braid, so there is nothing to hide the red and white.
A memory crashes in. I cringe. The green meadow and the brilliant blue sky fade...
A chair falls to the floor, and the noise of it echoes through my head. I hear the angry words. He pulls out a gun as Brandon cowers. On the floor, the red mingles with white, running together, mixing into a sick shade of pink...
“Nic?” Aunt Kate cuts in. “Nic. Are you feeling okay?”
I jolt back to the present to see Aunt Kate studying me intently. Her face has concern written all over it.
Once again I’m ruining her life.
She should be off having marvelous adventures with Ryan, but she’s stuck with me having a nervous breakdown. I work up the best smile I can. I hate everything about camping, but I want to try to put up with it so they can have a good time.
The Carrolls reach us with shouts of hello. Tammy is carrying a cake pan of brownies. Megan tosses down a potato salad on a cooler by Ryan’s truck.
Determined not to look at the colors on Megan’s shirt, I study Joe and Tammy. They are a bit older than Aunt Kate and Ryan. Megan pays me no attention. I can copy that.
“It’s fascinating to think that this was a hopping town in its day,” Tammy says. “It was bigger than Grangeville, and now there’s hardly anything left, and very few people have heard of it, much less come up here anymore.”
I sneak a peek at Megan, who only comes to my shoulder. She’s not wearing any makeup, and I like that a lot better. She’s actually prettier without it. It makes her look real and alive, not like a painted doll. Her blue eyes fill with sadness, though, when others aren’t looking.
I never talk to girls. Well, I should say girls never talk to me. And if I do manage to have a conversation with one, it’s about a school team or a new movie. I swallow, suddenly nervous about talking with Megan.
I should tell her to stop with the makeup.
She notices me studying her because she glances my way. I feel my face flush and turn back to the conversation.
“Hopping is the right word.” Ryan laughs. “Did you know they had a tradition of shooting into the stores and tents as they left the saloon? One store owner slept in his store because they would rob him if he didn’t. But he had a barricade of bags of wheat and oats for protection from the bullets.”
Joe shook his head. “Then there was Cherokee Bob, part of the Plummer Gang from Virginia City. He came to Florence with Billy Mayfield and a beautiful red-headed woman named Cynthia. He and Billy fought over her, and he won. He succeeded in most of what he did until he got into a gun battle and was shot in the stomach. Took him three days to die.”
Joe seems like a nice guy. Earlier he told Aunt Kate that he’s a lawyer, which is weird because his skin is rough and wrinkled like a farmer. His brown eyes twinkle when he laughs. It seems like he enjoys everything about life.
Could I ever enjoy life?
“How do you know all this, Joe?” Aunt Kate asks.
“Every time we move somewhere, Joe learns everything he can about the place and takes us on tours of all the historic places,” Tammy explains.
I glance at Megan, surprised to hear they aren’t from here. She stares into the fire like she’s thinking about where they left. With a jolt, I realize we have something in common.
She doesn’t want to live here, either!
Joe grins like he’s been caught doing something wrong and knows it. “Do I really? Well, Florence is by far one of the most fascinating place I’ve studied. For me, it’s mind-boggling that somewhere could be so evil. Hard to believe when it’s peaceful now.”
I don’t say anything, but I disagree. When a person shoots through tents or walls, the gunman doesn’t know if someone is there.
It’s more wicked to look someone in the eyes and murder them without caring what you are doing.
And it’s not peaceful now. The presences I feel are rolling throughout the meadow around us, filling the place with their vileness. I don’t dare look up to the trees or sky. I’m sure they are circling us like ravens on the wind. And they would see me.
Did the miners bring the evil demons along with their picks and shovels?
Maybe one of them infested the area with evil and demons. Maybe greed for gold and power caused it to grow stronger and stronger.
Or were the demons waiting like this when the miners came for gold?
Maybe the demons linger here until someone comes along to latch onto so they can work their evil schemes.
As I think about the questions, I realize it doesn’t matter. I want this to all go away. I want to be left alone. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to remember.
I just want to hide.
Chapter Ten
Useless Bullets
The light from the full moon lit the way, although the vampire didn’t need light to see where he was going. He passed through the tall trees until he stood beneath the cover of branches, studying the peaceful scene, savoring what was to come.
He had held back for so long, barely surviving on what blood was made available, even though it didn’t come close to satisfying his thirst. Perhaps the demons knew that when they set the system in place.
The trees gave way to a small meadow in front of him. Directly ahead, a cozy camping scene overlooked the canyon a short distance from Florence.
He grinned as he noted the cooler of food hanging high in the trees, out of a bear’s reach. The campers should have thought to protect themselves from something far worse than a bear.
The vampire snarled but held himself back with the sheer force of his will. He could already smell their blood. Soon he would taste it while he listened to their screams and cries for help. Although the two humans were old, he was going to enjoy this moment to its fullest.
He heard their steady, deep breathing, a sure sign they were asleep. What were their last dreams of? Sweet memories or dread, clues to what was coming?
The dying fire sparked and settled down as it slowly gave up its heat. He studied the campsite one more time, savoring the scene.
When he couldn’t wait any longer, he launched himself forward, allowing his blood thirst to flood him until the only thing on his mind was to feed the never-ending desire, if just for a few moments.
As he leaped onto the hood of the truck, he let out a howl, unable to contain his excitement of the feast he was about to enjoy. The metal creaked and bent under his weight. He launched off the truck and to the ground.
The humans woke. The sound of their hearts pounding, pushing the blood through their bodies faster and faster, was audible to him. He fed off their fright and snarled a grin when he heard the click of a bullet going into the chamber. They were going to have to try harder than that if they wanted to survive. Bullets were not what he feared.
He bounded to the door of the camper and tore it off its hinges, howling as it crumbled to the ground. By the time he got done, his thirst would be satisfied, and he would be more powerful than before, capable of ruling this forest and the land beyond.
He leaped into the trailer, ripping anything in his way to pieces, delighting in the screams as he easily withstood the bullets and drank their blood.
Chapter Eleven
Lucky Miner
I don’t remember drifting off to sleep, but a shriek jerks me awake. It cuts through the air and breaks off, letting silence descend like a curtain.
I sit straight up, my heart going from almost zero to sixty in a fraction of a second. I was right last night! I knew something was going to happen, and I kept my mouth shut. Why didn’t I say something or demand to go home?
What if it’s Aunt Kate?
I can’t move. If I stay here for a few more minutes, I can delay the horror. I can postpone the sight of blood again.
Is it better not to know? Can I save her?
I have to do something.
My shoes aren’t where I put them. I throw my sleeping bag aside to find them on the other side of the tent. My hands are shaking so badly I can’t get them on my feet.
I snatch them up and fumble with the zipper on the tent door. It snags and catches until I rip it open far enough to crawl through and throw myself through the gap.
What if she’s gone?
Shoes in hand, I scramble out of the tent and blink as I realize the sun is already up. The scene in front of me is serene. It’s still chilly with a hint of frost on the ground. The fire is cracking and popping with a pot hanging over it. I don’t see any blood anywhere. Yet.
Can I take seeing someone I love dead again? Or will I snap and never come back?
Aunt Kate makes a sound like a sob in the direction of their tent. I stand up on a piece of tarp in front of my tent door, trying to shove both of my shoes on my feet at the same time. Then I hear another yell. Quieter this time. I slow down.
What will I see this time?
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see. Not again. But I force my feet forward even
though my legs feel like wet spaghetti.
I come around their tent. Aunt Kate is sitting on the ground. Her hands are spread out wide like she doesn’t want them to touch anything. I can’t stop the shivers that run through my body as I get closer.
Is it blood?
There are two buckets close to her. One is upright with the other on its side like it was dropped.
Aunt Kate is soaked with water. Ryan is rolling on the ground a few feet from her. His whole body is violently shaking.
Is he having a seizure?
I stumble closer.
Ryan rolls over, and I can see his face. He looks like he is crying. He takes a deep breath, looks at Aunt Kate, and bursts out into a giant burst of laughter while he falls back on the ground.
Aunt Kate must hear me because she starts to speak but doesn’t turn to me. She keeps staring at Ryan.
“Nic, tell Ryan to enjoy laughing because he’s going to hurt for days when I get done with him.”
Her words only send Ryan into another fit of laughter which doesn’t calm Aunt Kate at all.
“What’s going on here?” I brace for the bad news that is still going to come.
“I was trying to get my hair wet.” Aunt Kate points at the bucket still upright. Her words are tense and sharp. “Then someone decided to sneak up behind me and douse me with freezing cold water.”
“I...was...helping!” Ryan chokes out in between of his laughing.
Aunt Kate leaps to her feet, grabs the other bucket and pours it all over him. He yells as he snatches her and pulls her to the ground.
They scared me for nothing!
Disgusted by their childish behavior, I storm off. I don’t think they notice I’m gone.
I storm back to my tent to grab a jacket and take off across the meadow without a word. The camper across the meadow is quiet. It doesn’t look like anyone is up which is fine by me. I don’t want to run into anyone right now.
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