He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got stuff going on.”
They trudged on.
Kevin persisted, “So, if she doesn’t want to come to the shelter?”
“Uh, well I guess then we … uh …”
He snorted, “Nice plan, B. Really.” He shot her a grin. “Hopefully once you’ve got a master’s under your belt you’ll be able to throw together a plan of attack a bit easier.”
She laughed. “Yeah, who knows.”
“So we just wing it?”
“Yeah. Just wing it.”
“And wing it will probably mean turn tail and run when the old lady starts talking crazy?”
Bernice smiled. “Quite likely.”
They walked through a little thicket of alders. Bernice went first. One of the branches she pushed out of the way flew back and smacked Kevin in the face.
“Ouch! Watch it!” he gasped.
She whirled. “Oh! Sorry, Kevin―”
“No worries,” he said, though he looked irritated. He grabbed the skinny little branch and snapped it from the trunk.
Bernice gasped. The old woman would feel it. But―
Bernice got ahold of herself. The old woman had not felt the branch break. She was not the swamp. That was not within the realm of possibility. Bernice forced herself to turn and walk away.
She heard Kevin start up again, too. Then he gave a gasp.
Bernice ignored him and walked on. He’d probably just slipped in the mud.
Kevin uttered a cry of pain, and there was the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. He swore and yelled, “Bernice!”
Bernice rolled her eyes. The klutz. That’s what he got for not wearing his hiking boots. Not that he’d had a chance to go home and get them, because she’d made it clear she needed him to meet her at her truck ASAP. Whatever. She turned. “Come on, Kevin. Get up.”
He was on the ground, lying in the mud among the roots of an alder, clutching his ankle. “Ouch. Wow. Ow,” he gasped.
Bernice backtracked and knelt in the mud beside him. “What’s wrong with it?” she sighed. This trip was not going well. “Twisted?”
He took in a ragged breath. “This really hurts. I think … shoot, B, I think it’s broken.”
Bernice looked at his ankle and valiantly refrained from grumbling under her breath about the inconvenience. She did not want to drag Kevin out of the swamp or have to function as a human crutch. They were pretty far in.
As he writhed in the mud, she sat back on her heels and thought a few seconds.
Then she looked back at his ankle.
She squinted. “What’s that?”
Under his hands, she could see a vine. A thick Asiatic bittersweet.
Uh oh.
She swallowed, thinking of the vine that had gotten wrapped around her ankle the previous day. She put her hands on his wrists, and pulled his hands away. Oh no. The vine was coiled tightly around his ankle four times. She met Kevin’s gaze.
He looked wildly from her to the vine and back again. “How … how did that … happen?”
“We gotta get you out of here,” she said, looking around. Please, old lady, stay away. Please.
“Bernice … this vine is― How?” he asked, panicked.
“You must have stepped down into it just right?” She positioned the hedge clippers to cut him free. The old lady would not feel it. She would not. She was just a person. She wasn’t anything supernatural. That was insane. This was reality.
Kevin rambled, “This is weird. It doesn’t make sense―” He stopped short and looked past Bernice.
She didn’t have to turn to know why he suddenly seemed terrified. The old woman was behind her. Bernice froze. She did not want to turn. Maybe it was not the old woman. Maybe it was a bear or a mountain lion. Please. Bernice met Kevin’s wide eyes. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
He gave a slow nod.
Bernice still didn’t turn. Gritting her teeth, she started to cut the vine, and was just about to slice through it when a powerful blow to her back sent her flying over Kevin. She hit the ground a few feet away from him, gasping and winded. She turned her head and saw the old woman striding over to Kevin, standing over him, looking down at him with a detached sort of interest.
“Who is this?” Swamp asked Bernice.
“I’m Kevin …” he whispered, his gaze bouncing from her to Bernice with shock. “You Okay, B?”
Bernice took a moment to assess her body. Wow. That had just happened. The old woman had actually just hit her with enough force to launch her through the air. Not cool. Her back hurt. “I’m okay,” she muttered.
Swamp growled at Bernice, “Who is this … Kevin?”
“He’s a friend,” Bernice replied, though ‘friend’ was stretching it. “We came to talk to you about―”
“He cannot know the secret of the swamp.”
Bernice sighed. “This is nothing to do with that. I didn’t come back for that.”
“I told you if you came back I’d show you the secret of the swamp.”
“Uh, sure you did, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested,” Bernice sighed. “I just wanted to tell you about this place downtown where you can go and―”
“You should not have brought him,” Swamp said, glaring down at Kevin.
Bernice saw something creepy in the old woman’s eyes as she looked at Kevin. Wincing with pain, Bernice started to get to her feet. “Hey, what’s up? What are you―”
The old woman snapped, “He shouldn’t be here. He can’t see what comes next. I’ll have to―”
Kevin looked wildly from the old woman to Bernice and back again. “Hey … hold on,” he said. “Let’s just talk―”
The old woman reached into the folds of her filthy clothing. Her hand emerged, fist clenched around something, and she hunkered down by him.
He tried to back away, but his ankle was caught tight. “Hey now … whatever’s going on here, it doesn’t have to go like―”
The old lady cut him off, peering over her shoulder at Bernice, who was walking cautiously over to her as though approaching a rabid beast. “You were not supposed to bring a companion,” the old woman hissed at Bernice.
“You never told me that!” Bernice said. “You really need to be more clear about your rules, lady.” She crept closer, trying to figure out what she could even do if she got close enough to help. The old lady would just send her flying again. Bernice swallowed nervously as Swamp turned back to Kevin and brought her fist slowly toward his face. Swamp gave him an ominous sort of grin.
His eyes widened and he struggled against the vine. “Bernice?” he asked as he stared at the old lady’s hand, which was moving closer and closer to his face.
Kevin gave Swamp’s hand a convulsive slap.
Swamp growled, and snapped her fingers.
Right after the snap, there was a rustling sound from the trunk of one of the nearby alders. Swamp looked expectantly toward the sound.
Bernice followed her gaze. The sound was coming from one of the trees. A bird, maybe? A squirrel? What?
Oh.
Bernice saw it and stopped in her tracks, staring. Her brain could not accept it. It made no sense.
A vine of Asiatic bittersweet was uncoiling itself from one of the alders. Bernice’s mouth went dry. That vine had moved. That vine had just actually moved. And not only had it moved, but it was still moving. It was uncoiling like a snake. Bernice blinked and shook her head and could not believe what she was seeing.
“Bernice …” Kevin moaned. “Bernice, what the―”
Tearing her gaze from the vine that was now sliding its way toward Kevin, she roared at the old lady, “Get away from him! Stop it! He’s got nothing to do with this!” She started to move again, having no idea what to do, but knowing that if something hap
pened to Kevin it would be all her fault.
“You should not have brought him,” the old lady repeated. Bernice reached Swamp and grabbed at her. Why? She had no idea. Not the slightest idea what she hoped to accomplish.
The old lady hit her and sent her flying through the air again.
Bernice hit the ground and skidded through the mud, sliding to a halt at the base of another alder. She blinked, and winced at the pain in her shoulder. She looked at Kevin. He was staring, terrified, struggling, as the vine wrapped itself around his left wrist. Then, his right wrist.
“Stop it!” Bernice screamed. “Leave him alone!”
Ignoring Bernice, the old lady hunkered down again by Kevin, opened her fist, palm upward, and blew on her hand. Some powder flew into Kevin’s face.
He coughed and met Bernice’s gaze. He looked so scared. Beyond scared.
The old woman stood and backed away a few paces, brushing her hands off on her filthy clothing.
Bernice pushed herself to her feet again and flew to Kevin’s side. “Are you okay?” she gasped, looking into his eyes.
“I … uh, I think so? What’d she do?”
They both looked up at the old woman.
She smirked down at them.
Bernice screeched, “What did you do? What was that stuff?”
The old woman didn’t respond.
“Bernice …” Kevin said. “Uh … Bernice something’s … wrong …”
Bernice turned back to him. His head was swaying left and right. His eyes were unfocused. She put her hands on either side of his head. “Kevin!”
He stared at the air over her left shoulder and giggled.
“Kevin! Can you hear me?” she yelled. She looked at the old woman. “What did you do to him?”
Kevin kept on giggling. His lips were blue.
“Is he―” Bernice gasped, peering down at him. “Is he going to―” She couldn’t finish the question. “Oh no. No.” She looked up again at the old woman. In the space of time it had taken Bernice to glance down at Kevin and up again, the old woman had moved silently to stand right behind her.
“Come,” the old woman said, leaning down and grabbing Bernice by the elbow. She effortlessly pulled Bernice to her feet.
“No! I need to get him to the hospital!”
The old woman just pulled her, without saying a word.
Bernice tried to shake her off. “He’s going to die! Let me take him to the hospital!” She looked down at Kevin again. He had rested his head in the mud and was staring up at the sky, still giggling. “Just let me take him to the hospital! I swear, I’ll come right back here after―”
“Come along,” the old woman instructed as she continued to pull. Bernice grabbed a tree, but the old woman yanked her free and dragged her on a few more paces.
Bernice’s eyes were still glued on Kevin. He didn’t have his backpack. He must have left it in the truck. That meant he didn’t have water. He might not have his phone, either. Not that there was reception in the swamp. Could he make it back to the truck on that ankle once he woke? Because wake up he would. He was not going to die. The old lady had to be telling the truth. She had to have been. Kevin could not die.
After a moment of hesitation, Bernice took her backpack off her shoulder and tossed it at Kevin. It squelched into the mud at his side. Now he had water and a phone.
After a moment, she tossed her hedge clippers toward him, too. With his hands caught by the vine, would he even be able to get himself free once that powder stuff had gotten out of his system? If it did? “You sure he’ll live?” she gasped as she was pulled deeper into the swamp.
“Yes.”
“Are you just saying that to shut me up?” Bernice tripped over a root.
“No. It is true. I do not kill. Not even humans.”
“You talk like you’re not one,” Bernice said, trying to twist out of Swamp’s grip. “You. Are. Not. The. Swamp.”
Swamp just answered calmly, “You will understand soon enough.”
One more tug and Bernice could no longer see Kevin. A few seconds later, his creepy giggling stopped abruptly. Oh no. Sure, he was annoying, but still Bernice didn’t want to have led the guy to his death. Death all alone in the middle of the swamp. Death by weird poison powder. At least if he was dead it looked like his death had been … uh … enjoyable? The way he’d been laughing, it at least probably hadn’t been painful.
She swallowed heavily and directed her attention to the old woman. Time to struggle some more. She dug her heels into the mud, but the old lady simply pulled her along. Bernice’s boots made two long grooves in the muck until she hit another root and tripped.
The old lady didn’t stop to give her time to right herself. Bernice fell to one knee. Before Bernice had a chance to get to her feet, she was pulled from her knees and found herself being dragged along on her stomach. Over roots, through grasses and mud. She felt some jagged something catch on her cheek and slice her skin. A ground-level branch caught and stuck in her hair; Bernice cried out in pain as Swamp tugged her away from the tree and the branch pulled out some of her hair. “Stop!” Bernice gasped, getting a mouthful of mud.
The old woman didn’t answer.
“You can’t do this!” Bernice gasped, in the face of all evidence to the contrary.
Still no answer.
Somehow, Bernice managed to twist and do a little jumping maneuver, wrenching herself to her feet. She panted, “Where are we going?”
“To the heart of the swamp.”
CHAPTER SIX:
A SUCCESSOR
They had been slogging through the swamp for a half hour. Bernice had screamed and struggled at first, but there’s only so much struggling one can do when being pulled through a swamp by a crazy, single-minded, super-strong old lady swamp cyborg, or whatever she was. Swamp just led Bernice along behind her, not appearing to tire at all.
So, Bernice gave up.
Exactly what a kidnapping victim should never do.
She was a disgrace to the personal defense class she’d taken as a freshman. That nice, shiny A had looked so good on her report card, and she’d felt pretty sure she’d learned enough to manage all right if she ever found herself in a situation where she needed to defend herself. But apparently practicing defending oneself against a pretend assailant on an exercise mat in the Student Development Complex was not, after all, the same as the real thing. Especially when the real thing involved a swamp cyborg witch.
Instead of struggling and screaming, she decided to ask questions instead. “And you’re certain my friend will be okay? I mean,” she swatted a mosquito out of her face, “his lips were blue. Pretty sure that means he’s not getting enough air―”
“He will awaken with the sunrise.”
“Wait, he’ll be unconscious all night?” That was less than ideal. Better than dead, sure. But worse than it might be. Poor Kevin. Bernice hoped her phone was charged enough to make it through the night. She hoped he found it in her backpack.
The old woman didn’t answer Bernice’s question, perhaps because technically she already had.
Bernice decided that, though she was still far from reassured about Kevin, she was about as reassured as she was likely to get. So, she changed topics. “You can’t just drag me off into the swamp.”
“But that is precisely what I am doing, and, as you see, it appears to be working.”
She had a point.
Bernice glared at the old woman, and continued, “People will notice I’m gone. And the first place they’ll search is the swamp. Because they’ll know that’s where I am, because that’s where I always am.” And, of course, Kevin knew she was here and would tell people tomorrow once he had woken up and found his way back to civilization somehow. But she was not going to draw the old lady’s attention to that. Not while Kevin was unconscious and injur
ed and unable to defend himself. Bernice didn’t have much faith in Swamp’s pronouncement that she wouldn’t kill. If it meant covering her tracks, Bernice could easily imagine this evil old lady killing Kevin.
“They will not find you if the swamp does not want you to be found.”
Bernice swallowed heavily. If this old lady really was the Rebecca Hallett who had disappeared in the swamp in the 1960s and had never been found, she clearly knew a thing or two about evading people. Bernice had a depressing amount of faith in the woman’s ability to keep her from being found by the people who would hopefully be searching for her.
“So how long am I going to be here?” Bernice asked. “Like you’re going to show me the secret of the swamp and then what? Then I go?”
“The swamp will decide.”
“But I thought you were the swamp.” Bernice felt the cut on her face. Her cheek was bleeding pretty bad.
“I am the swamp,” Swamp agreed.
“Then doesn’t that mean you’ll decide?”
“No.”
“But if the swamp will decide, and you are the swamp, it logically follows―”
“I am not the entirety of the swamp. The swamp covers a vast area of land. I do not.”
“Sure. I get that,” Bernice panted, growing weary of the pace the old lady was setting. “But you certainly seem to think you’re the consciousness of the swamp. Or like its ambassador or whatever. Yes?”
“Yes. Its ambassador.”
“Then … if you know the mind of the swamp, you know what the swamp will decide about me.” It was so hard reasoning with crazy. Especially when crazy was hauling Bernice through mud and trees and grasses against her will. But Bernice figured she had to try anyway, even if only to keep the old lady’s mind occupied on conversation instead of on whatever creepy thing she was planning on doing. Was she going to kill Bernice? Sure she said she didn’t kill, but what if she tied her to a tree stump or something and let dehydration kill her instead? Or she’d knock Bernice over the head and leave her in a puddle of water, and say the swamp had let her drown. Or maybe death didn’t mean the same thing to the old lady that it meant to Bernice; maybe dying and turning into organic material to feed the animals and the roots of the swamp plants was not death but eternal life. That didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility for this crazy old broad. So Bernice really wanted to keep her talking. Unfortunately, Swamp wasn’t the best conversationalist, so Bernice ended up doing most of the talking, and thus couldn’t really devote much brain power to trying to plot her escape. “Right? You’re the swamp so you know what the swamp decides.”
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