The small dirt track leads away from our campsite, away from the camper, away from made-up screams, and hopefully away from the anger gnawing inside me. I follow it, going away from Boot Hill and into the meadow where Florence once sat.
There’s something desperately trying to break free and gain control of me. It’s dark and capable of doing great harm to people.
Just like Dad.
I can’t think about it here. It’s so strong. I’ve got to control it. I need to distract myself until we leave. But I can’t think of a way to hold it together until then.
As I stomp down the dirt road, the anger slowly disappears. I focus on what’s around me to distract my thoughts. The sun is poking up over the trees. Birds are waking up and singing.
The night is over.
I take a deep breath. There’s a strange freshness to the air. Everyone is okay. We survived. Perhaps Pastor Tom was right yesterday. Maybe I can leave my past behind.
I follow the dirt road around a bend. The road splits into a fork. Each way shrinks to a small path full of ruts and holes that is barely wide enough for a vehicle, if a car could traverse the ruts and holes.
What a change from the packed streets of Chicago! Now it’s just me all alone in the dirt, stuck in a rut.
A cabin stands in the middle of the fork next to some abandoned scaffolding over a tunnel. Unlike the other cabins which have fallen, this one has four walls up and half a roof. The agitation returns, but I don’t pay it attention. If I ever wanted to know what it’s like to be in an authentic miner’s cabin, this is my chance.
I shouldn’t be here.
My stomach ties in knots, and my palms start to sweat. It’s almost like something is telling me not to go into the cabin. But who would be able to do that? Besides, I don’t have anything to fear if the past can’t hurt me.
I ignore the feeling and step into the cabin. I can almost touch both sides when I hold out my hands. The ceiling is low, and I feel like I have to stay hunched over.
Is this all that’s left of the life that was here?
I thought I’d see pictures on the wall, mining equipment, or some pots. But there’s nothing. There is still a hole in the roof for a chimney pipe, but even the stove isn’t there. There’s a frame for a bed but no mattress or blankets. The one window doesn’t have a curtain. Rough planks squeak under my feet. The shell of this cabin makes me remember the home I had with Mom.
Another family lives there now, making their own memories. Perhaps they’re finding the happiness we had ripped from us. But maybe they’ll end in disaster, too. That house should be deserted until it fell down like this one.
This cabin is empty and dirty, nothing here but dust. Yet this had once been a home. Someone built it with dreams of a better life. I circle the cabin.
Someone would need money awfully bad to live like this. Were they greedy, or were they trying to support a family? What would make someone come all the way out here in the 1860s to mine for gold?
The thought boggles my mind. These were real people who loved, laughed, cried, and hoped.
Why did you leave? Did it hurt to leave your dreams behind? Were you running like I am? Or are you buried in Boot Hill?
The last question sends a shiver all the way through me. I sit on the bed frame carefully, afraid it will break from my weight, but the wood is still strong, and I settle back, despite feeling claustrophobic.
How did you manage to live here?
I study the wall behind me. There are only logs and some chinking to stop the cold winter winds. Ryan said yesterday the first winter here was the hardest one the region had seen in years, and hundreds of men died.
One of the logs behind me has a section about ten inches long and four inches tall that looks darker than the others. I stare at it for a minute, wondering if it’s my eyes playing tricks on me.
I press on it, and it moves slightly. I jump. My heart pounds. This has to be where the miner hid his gold. Florence was famous for its crime, and there were no banks.
How much would it be worth today?
I turn to face it with my back to the door and push on it, but it doesn’t budge. I need a knife, but I don’t dare carry one. As I press again, the wood wiggles.
A splinter pushes into my finger. I grunt and pull out the small piece of wood. Blood begins to bead up and run down my finger. The color brings back memories I try to forget every day, and there’s a special revulsion of seeing mine that few understand.
My whole life depends on it staying inside of me, so much more than the average person. If I’m not close enough to my supplies, and I lose too much, I could die.
But trying to reassure myself doesn’t work. I turn my attention back to the wood, hating how my blood makes me different than anyone else.
It’s only a drop. For now.
Chapter Twelve
An Angel
I’m still bleeding, but I want to know what’s behind the wall. I need to hurry. The cut continues to bleed, but I’m fine if it’s a little amount. I can’t handle losing a lot.
Just when I’m about to give up, the section of wood pops out. It’s a hiding place. It’s going to be a blast to return to the tent with a pile of gold.
I reach into the hiding place. My fingers brush against something smooth and cold. I grab it and pull it out. My heart drops. Not gold. It’s a piece of paper and a picture. Cursive writing fills the yellowed paper, making it almost impossible to read.
Before I can decipher the flowing script, shivers run down my neck like the first night we arrived in Grangeville when that man was watching me.
A branch snaps outside.
Who’s out there?
Even though I’m in a deserted cabin, I feel like I’ve broken into someone’s house. There’s one door, so I can’t sneak out unseen. I’m trapped like a thief caught in the act.
And alone.
I didn’t realize as I stormed from the campsite how isolated I would be. Aunt Kate and Ryan don’t know where I am. I’m not sure they know I left. They wouldn’t hear me yelling for help.
I shove the picture and paper into my jeans pocket and push the piece of wood back in its place. Blood left stains on the wood.
Aunt Kate will be furious if I don’t stop what I’m doing right now and bandage it. She always worries when I bleed a drop.
I don’t know what’s outside the cabin, but I’m not going to hide until something attacks me in this dark tomb. As I peer around the door, I gasp in surprise.
Standing in the shadows of the tall pine trees is the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. She turns to me as I step out of the cabin and presses her lips together like she’s annoyed.
“I didn’t think you heard me,” she says as she pushes her long red hair streaked with black over her shoulders.
“I...ah...”
Should I apologize for hearing her?
“Oh, well,” she continues, “it doesn’t really matter, I guess.”
She comes toward me, staying in the shade of the trees looking like a wolf closing in on its prey. Something distracts her, she looks back into the forest.
“Damn,” she whispers.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“He’s coming.” She points into the trees, her brown eyes wide with fear. “You’ve got to help me!”
At first I don’t see anyone, but then a guy about my age barrels through the trees. His look is anything but friendly. I move closer to the girl.
She pleads. “Help me! Please! Don’t let Rob hurt me!”
She reaches for my hand, but before I can take it, the guy plunges between us and slams into me. The collision knocks me to the ground and forces the air out of me. I gasp. Next thing I know he’s standing over me ready for a fight.
I struggle for breath, trying to remind myself to exhale slowly and deeply for more air. The darkness pulsates inside of me stronger with each gasp for air.
Finally oxygen floods my lungs, and I can push myself up.
My
attacker stands ready to do it again. He’s not even out of breath. His amber eyes are filled with hate and bloodlust. I know. I’ve seen that look before. I swallow hard. He reminds me of a mountain lion with his sandy blond hair and lean, athletic body.
“Don’t you ever listen to the orders, Catherine?” he asks the girl without taking his eyes off me.
“Rob, leave me alone!” Catherine orders. She glances over at me. Her words are soft now. “I just want to be free.”
I can’t stop myself from staring at her. Her large brown eyes are filling up with tears. I know what it’s like to be trapped. Perhaps we can find a way to escape our chains together.
“Leave her alone.” I plant my feet in a stance I learned from kung fu and raise my fists to protect my face from his punches.
“She’s not what you think,” Rob says to me. “You’re involved with things you can’t comprehend, and it’s going to get you killed or something worse.”
“You heard what I said,” I reply. “Leave her alone.”
Rob snarls like a mountain lion. His lip curls back, revealing his teeth. His top two canine teeth grow into long fangs.
What the...?
He lunges at me. I jump to one side at the last minute. He whips past me and lands lightly on his feet. This time he growls louder, his long teeth glistening in the sunlight.
Rob paces toward me. “You going to stop me?”
I want to run, but I glance around. There’s nowhere to hide. I take my stance again, hoping my kung fu training has prepared me enough, but knowing it hasn’t. I’m not ready to fight.
This is it.
“Bring it on,” I say, hoping my dread isn’t seen.
My heart pounds in my ears as my pulse races. I try to slow my breathing and remember my training. But nothing helps. My knees are about to collapse. I feel like I’m fighting my own body more than this guy.
The darkness surges, and the world around me loses all its color like a tub being drained of water.
For an instant, I’m back at school...
Puddles of blood are growing larger until they join to make a pool. I hear the screams of the girls behind the desks in the back of the room while groans from Brandon answer them. The shooter doesn’t care about our agony. He walks around the desks and laughs...
Pain explodes in my stomach. I’m unable to stop myself from falling to the ground. I roll over to my side and curl up with my arms clutching my sides. I’m aware of Rob, standing a few feet away, watching.
I’m going to die.
But I’m not going to cower. The pain subsides a little. I force myself to get up, ignoring the aches. I raise my fists and throw a punch.
He smirks at my weak attempt and grabs my arm and twists. I tumble to the ground and roll back to my feet.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, trying to slow down my breathing.
Rob pauses like the question makes him think. A kind of sadness sweeps across his face and then is gone. “You’ll understand one day.”
Catherine is now behind Rob. She doesn’t look scared anymore. I can’t decipher what she’s feeling. She raises an eyebrow as if she’s slightly amused by my reaction, but she doesn’t say a word.
“You will never believe me, but I am sorry I have to do this,” Rob says.
The girl sniffs. “Do you smell it?”
I have a funny feeling she’s not talking to me. She’s talking about me.
Rob’s voice is strained like he’s dreading something. “Yes, I can.”
“Get it done so we can go,” the girl orders, like a princess speaking to her servant.
“You do not tell me what to do, Catherine!” Rob spins around. “I don’t care who you are. You’re not supposed to be here!”
“You’ve got to do better than you are,” she says.
Rob snarls and lunges at me. I swing with all the force I have, my fingers curled into a fist. He doesn’t try to block it. A jolt of pain shoots through my fingers when I hit his right jaw.
But he doesn’t move. His head should’ve snapped back. He should’ve stumbled back a few steps or fallen to the ground. At the very least, his eyes should be watering.
Did you even feel that?
“Who are you?” I breathe.
He grabs me by the shirt. I can’t move even though I want to. Before he can do anything, there’s a voice echoing through the trees.
“Nic!” A girl’s voice comes from down the road. “Nic! Where are you?”
Megan.
Rob looks down the road and then turns back to me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Sadness fills his amber eyes. The hate is gone.
He lets go of my shirt and swings. His fist hits the side of my head. My head snaps back, and I stumble away from Rob.
“Nic!” Megan calls again. This time she sounds frustrated and angry.
“Don’t kill him,” Catherine yells.
I drop to the ground, only aware of Catherine running to me and dropping to her knees beside me.
“I know who you are,” she whispers. “I can help. Come find me.”
She reaches for my hand, but Rob snarls and pulls her back, wrenching her arm in a painful way. She lets out a cry of agony as he yanks her away.
I try to come to her defense, but I can’t get up. Megan calls again, her voice louder as she comes closer.
The blackness sweeps over me, but this time I don’t think of anything but Catherine’s face. This time the darkness isn’t like before, and I know what has changed.
I have seen an angel.
Chapter Thirteen
Shadows
My eyes open, and I groan. My face is throbbing from Rob’s fist. I lift up my head to see where Rob and Catherine are, but they’re gone. They disappeared like they were never there.
Catherine’s words linger.
She knows who I am? She can help? What did that mean?
I poke my jaw gently, certain it must be broken in a thousand pieces. I open and close my mouth a few times. It’s not broken, but it hurts.
“Nic!” Megan yells again.
I push myself up to a sitting position and run my hand through my hair. Grass and pine needles tumble to the ground. I need to get to my feet before Megan sees me lying on the ground.
Megan strides into view, marching down the dirt road wearing a dark green jacket and jeans. Her long dark ponytail swishes back and forth as she marches into view.
“Are you deaf?” Megan snaps. She folds her arms over her chest. “I’ve been calling and calling.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. I can’t think of any excuse.
She snorts. “Oh, lost, were you? Well, you are from the city. I won’t tell anyone. Come on. I’ll show you the way back.”
I’m not lost.
But I can’t tell her what happened, and I’m not going to look for Catherine to get some explanations while Megan is around.
I clench my jaw to stop the angry words and follow her back to the meadow. We’re almost there when Megan turns back to me.
“Why are you going so slowly?” she snaps. “We’re all hungry.”
I smell smoke. A hint of bacon lingers in the air, and my stomach grumbles.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” I pass her and start for the camp.
I hear a huff, and then she’s beside me, walking on the other side of the dirt road beside me. A bird begins to chirp, and I run my hands over the tall grass.
“I’m sure I heard other voices before I saw you. Were you talking to someone?” she asks.
Something prompts me to keep quiet about what happened. “I didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was something spooky. This is a ghost town.”
“Do you believe in that stuff?” She’s serious. There’s no sign of mockery.
I sigh. “I don’t know. There’s something about this place that makes my skin crawl.”
“Me, too,” she confesses. “Mom and Dad think it’s great up here. They say we can be lost in beauty and learn history at the same time. But I
think it’s creepy.”
There’s no way you can see what I see. But could you feel what I see?
I don’t know how to begin to ask.
“I’ve seen things,” I start slowly. “Weird things.”
Do I tell her of the shadow I saw on the school wall morphing into a demon? Do I tell her what I saw behind Dad that horrible night?
I stop talking. She’d think I’m loony and tell Aunt Kate to put me in the crazy prison.
“So have I!” Megan exclaims. She quits walking and grabs my arm. “I never told anyone! But Halloween last year...I saw something not...” She takes a breath and continues. “Something not human. It was just a glimpse, but I was so freaked out. I’ll never trick or treat again.”
She pulls back like she realized she was still holding onto my arm. We stare at each other as I search for something to say.
Do I tell her everything or laugh at her? What would a normal person do?
“Are you coming?” Tammy shouts out across the meadow.
We jump and then wave in the direction of the tents. We start out again, but when I glance at Megan, she looks horrified and disappointed she revealed such a thing and I haven’t responded.
“I’ve seen things in the shadows, too,” I admit. “I haven’t ever told anyone.”
She beams at me. I smile back, surprised by the way her grin makes her more attractive.
Maybe I should tell someone what I see.
“Church makes me feel weird, too,” she admits. “It’s not God or whatever, but something about the building or someone in it.”
“I hear you. Mr. Harris seems strange.”
“Mr. Harris?” Megan laughs. “He’s alright. It’s Claude that’s odd. I saw you talking to him. Didn’t you think he was weird? I get the creeps around him.”
I didn’t, but I’m not going to argue with her. By now, we are too close to the campsite to keep up this conversation. The fire is going strong. Coffee is brewing, and eggs and bacon are sizzling.
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