Under The Blade

by Serafini, Matt

  Sleighton dragged the bloodied plastic through the grass, ducking below the still-hanging yellow police tape. They headed for the counselor’s cabin—and the tunnels beneath it. He had corroborated the girl’s story a few days ago and was spooked to discover that she’d been right. This was more than just a few tunnels running beneath the camp.

  He dropped Hoyt through the hole and climbed the half-ladder into darkness, clicking his flashlight to life once his boots hit the ground. A yellow beam lit a path as they crossed the basement floor, slipping into the earthen corridor beyond it. Eventually, there was another drop that went deeper inside the hollow. This was as far as he dared to come the other day, but the luxury of chickening out no longer existed.

  He tossed Hoyt over the edge. The opportunity to throw him around in the same way that Trish treated her Cabbage Patch dolls brought unexpected catharsis. Once he heard the body’s satisfying splat, he attempted the descent.

  He was halfway there when the sinking sound of shuffling plastic echoed up from the depths. He froze on the current rung, ears wrinkling with every fold and crack. He plucked the flashlight off his belt and split the dark with a dancing cone of halogen.

  When he saw what was making the noise, he took a breath to calm his heart.

  The plastic wrap had wedged between two rock formations, and was gradually slipping down the walls.

  A makeshift building sat on the other side of this cavern: a wooden church, complete with a mini steeple that rose as far as the cave’s ceiling allowed. Zohra never mentioned any of this, though she rarely spoke of her days with Abblon. She chose to right his wrongs by preaching the Obviate’s original message. Sleighton didn’t care for her beliefs but others in town felt she was right. Their sermons were like modern day speakeasies—and probably as well attended. Many were quick to buy into stories about end times because the notion that it could be prevented was a powerful one.

  That was Zohra’s line: the Obviate showed the good lord how much they cared by fighting for humankind’s survival. Or some such horseshit.

  The door creaked and sent a booming echo into the air that riled up a colony of bats. They flapped around while Sleighton dragged Hoyt into the shelter.

  “This is where you’ll stay,” he said, trudging toward the altar. “This is where it ends.”

  Sleighton fished the plastic wrap out from beneath the chains and cast it aside. Before he could leave, he needed to study Hoyt’s face for signs of life. To make sure it was finished. He grabbed a seat in the nearest pew and settled against the rough and uneven wood, watching the obliterated face for any kind of movement.

  A suspended cross dangled over his stepson’s body. The maniacs that called this place their home truly believed they were doing God’s work. This was ground zero for some of the sickest shit that ever happened, and he tried forgetting about the madness and debauchery that would’ve swallowed this town whole if it hadn’t been stomped out.

  Piles of bones lay around Hoyt, nearly ensconcing him. Some of them were the Obviate and others were their victims. Almost twenty years on and their slaughterhouse was a grisly memorial to the massacre.

  Forest Grove was home to a serial killer now. The irony being that it was a direct result of the thing they had tried covering up. Sleighton facilitated the slaughter of forty people—maybe more—in an attempt to protect his town, but all he did was delay the inevitable.

  The bloodshed was coming, one way or another.

  A wave of publicity was headed his way, and he hated the idea of having to entertain tourists for the rest of his life. Soon the grove would be on a list right next to that Long Island haunted house. Today’s kids had no interest in starting families or instilling positive values in future generations. They lived like children themselves, well into their adult years. Fun apparently meant driving out to see a place where people died.

  No thanks.

  Hoyt’s face had so many gashes and tears that it looked like road kill. He didn’t move any more than he breathed.

  It was probably safe to leave, but Sleighton wasn’t satisfied yet.

  Either that or he didn’t want to rush back and console Zohra over the loss of her psycho son. He was curious as to how this would impact her teachings. She pedaled her religion without resorting to murder, but losing a son had to knock some screws loose. Was this enough of a tragedy for her to resume Abblon’s old ways?

  He had watched her carefully in the years following the Obviate massacre—like she was a heroin addict during one long comedown. There was no way of knowing whether or not she was guilty of anything herself, but he’d already made the (impulsive) decision to give her a second chance. And for the first few years, she refused to speak about any of it.

  Forest Grove was never fooled by her, either. They knew where she came from. There were a lot of odd looks at first, and many folks chose to believe that the Obviate compound had gone up in smoke, which in turn caused the cult to leave town en masse. An odd conclusion, considering the cabins remained intact, but people believed what they wanted to, and they chose to deny the truth about what had happened out here. There were murmurs concerning their killings, but no one knew anything for sure. And so it was probably easier for them to forget the whole thing and presume to heal.

  Ironically, many of them wound up coming around to Zohra’s word.

  That didn’t happen overnight, though. Her approach was more tactical than Abblon’s. She used topical events and headlines to plead her case: terrorism at the Munich games, ebola outbreaks in the Sudan, and the destruction left by the Tangshan earthquake—anything she could ascribe to the actions of an angry God. This won her the favor of terrified peers. Slowly but surely, they took her words back to their families to spread the paranoia around.

  Zohra assured him it would be different. That there would be no bloodshed this time. Like most women, she was mighty persuasive when she wanted to be.

  Maybe she’d like to see this place again…

  He froze at the thought, knowing he would never consider anything so irresponsible. His head felt heavy, and his thoughts were scattered. Repressed urges were on the tip of his mind suddenly, replacing the desire to get out of here.

  What’s your rush?

  He sprung out of the pew and took the cold steel of the revolver in the palm of his hand. “Leave me alone,” he cried, blasting five more shots into Hoyt’s brain. The killer’s head shattered, breaking into pulpy strands. It brought no relief to the invasive squeeze on his thoughts, though. They tightened further, his mind awash with alien imagery and first-time, gruesome considerations.

  He fled the catacombs, desperate to shake free of—whatever held him.

  The drive home was the longest ride of his life, and the pressure was slow to lift from his head. Whatever was down there wanted Zohra back. As he sped away from the campground, he heard something in his ear—an invisible passenger sitting beside him. It said “priestess” and then was gone.

  Getting the town on board with Hoyt’s death wouldn’t be easy. Some weren’t going to want to take Sleighton’s word at face value, but he could smooth it over with persistence. Fraser and Valeri had already signed the death certificate. Valeri would have to be told the truth, but no one else could know. Hoyt’s resting final resting place was best kept secret. He could cover up the killer’s official cemetery plot before Forest Grove had its morning coffee, and that would go a long way toward burying this nightmare.

  When he pulled onto his street, there were several police cruisers blocking the Hautanen’s place. He threw the car into park in the middle of the road and ran through the crowd of uniforms.

  Major Tom Lawson stood on the sidewalk with Trish cradled in his arms. “Take it slow there, chief,” he said with more than a little warning.

  Sleighton paid it no mind, pulling his daughter into his arms. Her eyes fluttered open long enough to recognize her father, and then she dropped against his shoulder.

  “Where’s my wife, Tom?”
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br />   “That’s why we’re here. You probably think you pulled the wool over our eyes, chief. I’ve been waiting for things to go tits up. Christ, I never should have given you a chance. But I did. And look what happened.”

  “Tom, Zohra didn’t have anything to do…”

  “That’s enough.” Lawson led them off the sidewalk and around the side of the house. “We’re taking her, Ron. Locking her up nice and tight.”

  Sleighton tried to protest but Lawson wouldn’t let him speak.

  “Not a discussion I’m open to having. You took her off that lake, making you responsible for this massacre. What happens if she goes blabbing about the things we did? I trusted you to contain this mess and it’s clear now that you can’t. Know why we’re here, Ron? The people in this house called us ‘cause Zohra was screaming bloody murder at your girl. ‘Repent and submit’ is all she kept saying when we scooped her up.”

  This couldn’t be real. Sleighton felt dizzier with every passing word. He pulled Trish tighter in his arms—afraid Lawson was going to try to take her too. “Where is she,” he said.

  “That’s not a good idea, Ron.”

  “I have to see my wife. Please.”

  The trooper motioned for Sleighton to follow and they walked back into the commotion. Zohra was cuffed and sitting in the back of a cruiser. Her hoarse screams were crazed and incoherent.

  After all this time, this was how it ended.

  Her eyes narrowed when he approached. “You don’t know what you’ve done. What any of you have done.”

  Sleighton wanted to scream back that this wasn’t his fault. She had to see that his hands were tied. He wanted to make assurances that the troopers wouldn’t get away with this. Couldn’t get away with this. Snatching someone in the middle of the night and locking them away forever didn’t happen in America. He knew the law as well as any, and would use it.

  “You can see that she’s agitated,” Lawson said, leaning into Sleighton’s ear. “And don’t you think about fighting this. A lot of people rode out to that lake to rescue this town. You think about that. And if appreciating them isn’t enough, then you think about your little girl. Someone has to be around to raise her.”

  The gestapo strong arm tactic would work, because Sleighton was a man without options. Threatening his daughter was a bluff he could never afford to call. These troopers would do anything to keep the story buried. They slaughtered an entire commune in the name of justice, and would not allow their names to be dragged through the mud. They were taking his wife away before the spotlight fell on the grove for that very reason.

  Because if she was here, someone might get around to asking her a fatal question. And then the story could come back around to bite everyone in the ass.

  As much as he hated it, he understood.

  The cruiser took off down the street and Sleighton felt his soul leaving with it. Lawson stood beside him, eyeing him with contempt.

  “Get your affairs in order, Ron. All of them.”

  He had a feeling that the troopers had just removed the only chance of that happening.

  TEN

  “Where are we going?”

  “To celebrate, stupid.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  Tanya couldn’t believe she was dating someone this dense. She rolled her eyes and dropped her mouth until Rafe figured it out.

  “You mean the signatures?”

  “Very good.” She patted his thigh.

  “Not here, my parents are probably watching from the window.”

  “Please,” she said and pulled away from the curb. “They know their son has been trying to tap the Blue Heron’s resident flyer. Deep down, your dad is proud of you for landing a cheerleader.”

  “Yeah, and my mom grounded me for two weeks after finding that condom in my shorts a few months ago.”

  “I’m worth it.” She took his hand and placed it on her inner thigh, pressing his fingers down. He pulled away and glanced over his shoulder like he was expecting to see his mother in the back seat.

  She sighed and headed for the grove’s outskirts. Rafe glanced out the window as she heaved the gas, picking up speed as soon as downtown was behind them.

  “Be careful, babe,” he said, “there’s a ton of cops out and about.”

  “Which means you and I are home free.” Tanya reached into the middle pocket between the seats and tossed a baggie into his lap. “Everyone’s too busy to bust us on that.”

  Flashing cherries blazed red and blue in between the trees up ahead, indicating a possible barricade on the outskirts. Just around the bend. Whatever was happening in town, the cops meant business.

  “Guess we’re not getting in the front way,” Tanya said.

  “We’re not getting in at all. I told you this wasn’t a good night.”

  “Shut up,” she said. “When I have my heart set on something, I get it.” She slowed the car to a roll and turned off the lights. There was an old fire road somewhere around here that would take them all the way to the lake. With all the hubbub, no one would be there. They’d have it to themselves.

  It would be perfect.

  The fire road wasn’t more than a cow path, and the car bounced them around like this was a moon landing. Her head launched straight up and hit the ceiling, and she was instantly mortified at the thought of her hair. She worked hard and long to get rid of those damn split ends and her idiot boyfriend hadn’t so much as noticed.

  Sometimes, she didn’t think they were going to make it to senior year, despite being the hottest couple in school.

  Whatever, they were going swimming anyway.

  The narrow trail made their trip twice as long as it needed to be. When the clearing finally appeared at the edge of the headlights, she breathed easy and flicked them off again, rolling straight onto the beach and killing the engine.

  Tonight was a hot and sticky one, and the town was stressing her big time. Collecting those signatures hadn’t been easy, and they got more glares than smiles along the way. Apparently, the chief’s wife had gathered plenty of her own so they knew there were enough people in the grove who were sympathetic to the cause.

  It was weird that someone so much older cared about Forest Grove’s class of 2014, though. At first, Trish Brady seemed pretty sad—one of those losers who couldn’t let her youth go without a fight. But she was actually kinda cool—an adult who gave the finger to authority. Why weren’t more of them like that?

  Rafe was looking around, worried that the police would catch them—paranoid without taking a single toke.

  Tanya slid out of her shorts, taking her panties down with them. Her t-shirt was next, flinging it onto the hood of the car. It landed on top of her iPhone, muffling Krewella’s anthem about living for the night. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so she crossed her arms over her breasts to prevent Rafe from seeing the whole show without buying a ticket. Her ankles slipped beneath the still water, and she felt like she had his full attention at last.

  “Don’t even think about following me until you’re as naked as I am.”

  She waded in further, and her body temperature adjusted in no time. Once she was up to her shoulders, the swim was cool and relaxing. She turned around in time to see her naked boyfriend flopping his way forward in the moonlight. He must’ve been cold for as small as he looked.

  It made her giggle.

  They swam out toward the middle of the lake. One of the houses across the way had anchored a dock in the middle. They weren’t likely to mind that it was co-opted tonight, as she hopped from the water and hoisted onto the wobbly surface. The water rained off her body as she turned to watch Rafe swim the rest of the way, shivering in what had become cold evening air.

  He was nowhere to be seen.

  Tanya crossed her arms and called his name in a shivery voice. A lot of help that would do if he drowned, but she felt powerless.

  The evening’s serenity was suddenly terrifying. As if all of nature had taken notice, and now watched intently to s
ee what would happen next. Nerves attacked her and she quaked from equal parts fear and cold. The beachfront looked small from out here, completely out of reach, and the night was so dark that she couldn’t even see the house on the other side of the lake. Complete isolation.

  At some point, she was going to have to swim for it, even if she didn’t want to. What if something got Rafe and was waiting for her to do just that?

  Something like Cyrus Hoyt?

  She considered a running dive, followed by a make-or-break swim. Her toe skimmed the water in a display of reluctance, and something crashed the surface and grabbed for it. She screamed and lost her balance, tipping back and dropping ass-first onto the raft.

  A dark figure scurried up from the depths to join her, throwing his weight atop hers. Familiar kisses on her mouth, a tongue against her lips.

  “I can’t believe it’s finally going to happen.” Rafe’s laugh was playful while he sucked her earlobe.

  Tanya might’ve been pissed. She wanted to hit the jerk in the face for this little joke, but this was what they’d come for. She’d been ready a few days ago, but their discovery of an unconscious Trish Brady put a wrinkle in the plan. Since then, it was all she could think about. Tonight was the night. It had to happen. And once her mind was made up—

  While Rafe kissed her neck and groped her body, her hand clasped around the hammer that she’d stashed here this morning.

  It’s true that her hormones raged, and a part of her wanted nothing more than to feel him inside. He was the hottest guy in school, and the only one she had even considered doing ‘it’ with. It was wrong to surrender to the flesh, but she was a teenager above all else, and that compulsion was forever at odds with her morality.

  The temptation was strongest now, while he worked her body over, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she just let it happen first.