Last Grave (9781101593172)

by Viguié, Debbie

  Another five minutes later, she spotted a petrified tree that she recognized from the ride up. The tree was fallen on its side. It looked so lonely and stark, a grim reminder of death. And yet it was preserved instead of falling to ash, as so many other living things did. Just like Winona.

  The similarities didn’t end there either. The way it was lying reminded her eerily of the way Winona’s body had looked when they found her. A very short section of a branch was sticking up from the trunk, reminding her of an arm. A shiver went up her spine as a sudden horrible thought occurred to her. She remembered the face of the witch who had attacked her car, the insanity she’d seen flickering in her eyes. Was it possible this tree had served as some sort of sick inspiration for the murder?

  She walked closer, eyes gazing intently at it. Finally she could see the whole thing clearly. She froze. There, burned into the side of the dead tree were three words.

  The last grave.

  Samantha reached out with a shaking hand and touched the words carved into the wood. Sudden, intense heat and a slight sizzling sound caused her to jerk her hand back. Her fingertips were burnt. Whoever had seared the words into the tree had done so within the last few minutes.

  She spun around in a circle. The forest had gone completely silent. No birds or insects made a sound. No animals crunched leaves or rustled in the undergrowth. No wind caused the trees to sigh or creak.

  Absolute silence and absolute stillness. And somewhere close by was a witch. She should have seen it coming. She had invaded their territory. And for all she knew, whomever Cody had called to ask about her might have been the one person in his whole Wiccan coven she didn’t want him talking to.

  Samantha turned, constantly moving, terrified that she would miss seeing the witch when she made her move. And then she stopped, the words of her ten-year-old self ringing in her ears. Fear was not the answer. Calm was. If she could be calm, she would have the ability to focus her energy quickly when and where she needed it. The two witches she had come up against were more powerful than she was. She had to be smarter than they were.

  Something touched the back of her shoulder. Samantha spun to face the threat.

  There was nothing there.

  A whisper, a laugh, came to her.

  “Show yourself,” she said, licking her lips.

  Something tugged on her hair and she twisted around.

  Her probing eyes saw only trees.

  She thought of the attack outside of Robin’s cabin, where the trees themselves had seemed to come alive and tried to kill her. She glanced down at the ground, searching for the movement of roots. All appeared still.

  Something shoved her hard, causing her to stagger to catch her footing. She landed on a rock, twisting her ankle. When she turned around, there was still nothing. The witch must have cast a spell to make herself appear invisible.

  “Show yourself!” Samantha demanded, trying to throw as much authority into her voice as she could.

  That same quiet laugh answered her.

  She couldn’t trust her eyes, so she had to rely on her other senses. She listened, hoping to hear the crunch of leaves, the rustle of clothes. There was nothing but the steady laughter that sounded like it was coming from right next to her.

  A sudden, terrible suspicion dawned on her. She brought her hand to her mouth, covering her lips. For a moment the laughter ceased. She tensed, but a moment later it started back up.

  It’s not me. I’m not the one laughing.

  But it was so close, she should be able to reach out and touch the witch. She stretched out her arms, but her fingers touched only air. The laughter continued as her frustration built.

  “Show yourself!” Samantha screamed.

  The laughter ceased, and from six inches above her head, she heard someone whisper, “Run!”

  It was as though it had been the cue her legs had been waiting for. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was running through the forest as fast as she could.

  I should stand and fight. I should find a place to fight. Find the high ground.

  But all she could think of was getting away. The witch had been above her that entire time. Samantha didn’t know how. Maybe the woman had been hanging from a tree branch like some sort of bat. Her frightened mind conjured much darker images, granted the witch nearly limitless power, but she struggled to bring herself back to calm, to center. Which was nearly impossible when she was running faster than she ever had in her entire life.

  Her foot slipped on something, but she grabbed hold of a tree and used it to propel herself onward. Countless small animals ran from her, almost as afraid as she was. A felled tree appeared in her path, and in one move she vaulted it, landing hard on the other side but still on her feet.

  And the whole time her mind was screaming at her to stop, but it was as though she was caught in some horrific feedback loop. She was running and she couldn’t stop.

  She kept going, blood roaring in her ears and lungs gasping for air. She kept running until she knew the witch wasn’t anywhere near her. She couldn’t sense anyone else anywhere near her. And when she finally screamed at herself to stop, she realized with dread that she couldn’t.

  The witch did something to me.

  She couldn’t force herself to slow. Her legs were not hers to command anymore. She had been summoned before, felt compelled to go toward someone and lost control of her body during that experience. But this was being repelled from someone.

  How far away does she mean for me to run? Samantha wondered. Out of the forest? Out of the county?

  And it finally dawned on her as her lungs seared with pain and sweat streamed into her eyes.

  She means for me to run until it kills me.

  As trees flashed past and the pain built, Samantha could feel her body struggling to heal itself from the muscle fatigue that was tormenting her. Sweat was pouring off of her, drenching her clothes. She was dehydrating, and she could feel muscles in different parts of her body begin to cramp and seize. Her breathing had become ragged, and the deeper she tried to breathe, the less oxygen she seemed to be getting.

  She could feel her body starting to shake as more and more muscles cramped. She didn’t know how long she’d been running, but the speed had not let up at all.

  I’m going to die if I can’t make myself stop.

  She reached out, praying she still had control over her arms, and grabbed a slender tree as she raced by. The resultant impact caused her shoulder to separate, but she held on long enough to land herself flat on her back.

  She popped back up, and her fingers caught at the rough bark, tearing off her fingernails as she tried to hold on. With a wrench, her body freed itself and she was running again, trees rushing by her at blinding speed. Her mind worked frantically, trying to figure out how she could stop what was happening. Even if she had the energy to create some kind of barrier, she was sure her legs would just carry her around it.

  She could feel small blood vessels all over her body starting to burst with the force of the blood pumping through them. She stepped down wrong on her left foot and felt the bone crack. She didn’t have much time left.

  Then she heard the sound of running water. It was coming from in front of her, and a crazy thought took over. Soon a creek was in sight. She raced toward it. Then she was in the water, splashing through.

  She bent down and lodged her hand into the crack between two boulders. She cried out in anguish as the bones in her hands and fingers snapped. They held, though, and she fell into the water. Before she could get up, she spun, planting herself facedown in the freezing water. She wedged her other hand underneath some more boulders and held on.

  Please, God, let this work, she prayed.

  She opened her mouth and sucked the icy water into her lungs. Her entire body spasmed and began to arch and thrash. Terror flooded her, but she kept
it up.

  The witch had meant her legs to run until she was dead. Maybe she could short-circuit the spell by coming as near to dying as she could.

  Her feet kicked wildly, trying again and again to get a purchase on the slippery rocks on the bed of the creek and failing over and over. Her face was downstream from her legs, and after a moment, the water she gulped in was filled with blood from her battered legs.

  She continued to convulse as her body fought to live and her legs fought to run. But she forced herself to keep her head under water. Her chest heaved, trying to vomit the water, but there was nowhere for it to go. Finally, darkness began to close around her. Slowly, her legs stopped moving.

  I need to move now. Push myself out of the water.

  But it sounded like too much effort. Maybe she’d just lie there for a little while, take a nap. She’d feel better after she’d rested.

  Her mind drifted down the course of the creek. It really was beautiful here. She knew she’d been afraid, but she couldn’t remember why. That was okay. She didn’t want to be afraid anymore. This feeling of lightness was much better.

  Snatches of a rhyme she’d sung as a child came back to her.

  When witches go to school, little boys cry.

  There was more to it; she knew there was. Why could she never remember the last part? She struggled, trying to remember how it went. For some reason, it seemed terribly important that she remember. She had sung it a thousand times, a million even.

  The water was getting even colder. Maybe she should move.

  Get up!

  So very cold, but she couldn’t move. And besides, she wanted to remember the rest of the song.

  When witches go to school, little boys cry. When witches go to school, bad girls die.

  There was more; what was it?

  She was colder now, but she wasn’t sure she cared. Maybe she’d get up, but she didn’t really have to. The creek bottom was pretty comfortable when you got used to it. In fact, she had decided she’d stay. Now, if only she could remember the rest of the song.

  When witches go to school, little boys cry. When witches go to school, bad girls die. And—

  And what? It was almost there, the last phrase.

  And what a bad, bad witch am I.

  Pain seared through her, the last of her energy struggling to heal a dead body. All her muscles went completely rigid as electricity arched through them and then hit the water around her. The resultant current jolted her up out of the water just enough for her to cough.

  Bloody water streamed out of her mouth before she collapsed back into the creek. Terror returned to her and she thrashed, willing her arms to push her back up out of the water. They wouldn’t, but she finally managed to flip over onto her back, her lips barely above the waterline as her head came to rest on a boulder that was only partly submerged.

  She hacked again and again as her body expelled the water. Blood vessels all throughout her body began to repair themselves as her body sucked up the energy of the water rushing around it.

  She had done it. She had ended the spell. It was moot, though, if she couldn’t heal the damage she’d done to her body during drowning. She lay there, too scared to open her eyes, for what seemed like an eternity. The cold water raced around her, making her shiver so hard her teeth chattered together.

  She needed to get out of the cold water and into some warm clothes before she went into shock. The January air had been mild today, but the sun was going down and the temperature was rapidly plunging. It was supposed to reach nearly freezing later that night.

  Finally, she opened her eyes. She could see slivers of dark sky above her through the trees. Slowly, she sat up, head spinning. She nearly collapsed again, but she managed to stay sitting upright. She reached out with her torn and battered fingers and began to drag herself out of the creek. The pain made her cry, and the tears on her cheeks stung with cold.

  “You can do it,” she whispered to herself, teeth still chattering.

  She dragged herself up and out of the water and collapsed on the ground, sobbing. She lay flat against the earth, wishing she could become part of it. She pulled as much of its energy into herself as she could until she could feel roots in the ground beneath her actually starting to wither and die. They gave their life so that she might live.

  It took another half hour before she could stand. The cold was nearly overwhelming her, and she debated ditching her wet clothes. Shock was quickly setting in.

  Just walk and you’ll warm up, she told herself. She wondered if she should build a small fire but was hesitant to do so. She didn’t want anyone seeing the smoke and coming to investigate. She was in no shape to deal with witches or forest rangers.

  She put one foot in front of the other, marveling at how much effort a few simple steps took. She promised herself hot cocoa, a hot shower—because she didn’t think she could face soaking in a bathtub anytime soon after nearly drowning—and warm, fleecy clothes when she got home. Then she’d crank up the heater and lie on top of the vent in the floor of her room.

  And when she made it to her rental car, she would turn up the heat as high as she could. She realized with instant regret that she’d neglected to put a spare set of clothes in the new car. Epic fail.

  That was okay. The car would be warm and she could sit and it would be good. She wouldn’t even have to drive straight home. She could go to a hotel or even take a nap in the parking lot before she had to drive all the way home.

  These sounded like better options to her. Another step. Another. Everything was going to be okay. Soon she’d be warm and safe. She looked up from the ground and looked at the trees around her.

  And that was when it hit her.

  She was completely lost.

  10

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Samantha whispered, her misery nearly overwhelming her.

  Her phone was gone, probably lost to the river. She still had her keys in her pocket, but they would be of no use unless she could find the car. There was no sign of train tracks anywhere. The map she’d shoved into her pocket disintegrated when she tried to pull it out. No one knew she was up here, not even Lance, so help wasn’t coming.

  What do people do when they’re lost? There’s something about moss on trees.

  She shook her head. Thinking like a regular person was only going to get her in more trouble. She dug her keys out of her pocket, placed them on her palm, and held out her hand. With her free hand, she touched the car key.

  “Take me to the lock this key fits.”

  She felt the energy flow out of her hand, more painful than it normally should have been because of her great exhaustion. She pulled her hand away and the key began to vibrate. It twisted itself around on her palm until it was pointing past her left shoulder.

  She turned and began to walk that way. She was so tired that she stumbled every few feet. Finally, she had to put the keys back in her pocket so she had both hands free to help catch herself.

  She stopped after five minutes and pulled the keys back out. She was still going in the right direction. She made a micro adjustment and continued on, checking her direction every five minutes. After about half an hour, she came to a stop at a gorge and stared across to the other side.

  She wanted to cry but ended up laughing instead, the sound crazy even to her own ears. “The most direct route is not always the best route,” she said.

  There was a railroad bridge about a hundred feet from where she was. She walked wearily over to it. She gazed across the expanse. She was going to have to walk across.

  She bent down and put her hand on the track, feeling for vibrations. The last thing she wanted to do was get halfway across and have a train show up. She couldn’t feel anything, so she grimly stepped out on the tracks. She walked slowly and steadily, making sure to pick up her feet so she wouldn’t trip.

/>   At last she made it across, and she pulled out her keys again. They pointed straight on, while the railroad tracks curved to the right. She stood there, torn. If she followed where the keys led, she ran the risk of coming across more impassable terrain. On the other hand, she knew the train had made several switchbacks going up the mountain.

  She reached up and touched the cross, which was still around her neck. “Which way?” she whispered.

  The sun had set and what little light had been left in the sky was fast fading. She knew the railroad tracks might be the longer way to go but that they would get her where she was going and she’d at least be able to see the ground a little more clearly. She shoved her keys back into her pocket, turned. and began walking next to the railroad tracks.

  Now that the sun was down, the cold set in with a vengeance, chilling her through and through. She told herself to just keep walking as she rubbed her arms and hands together.

  Nearly two hours later, Roaring Camp came into sight and she sobbed in relief. The General Store and the other buildings were closed for the night. It made the area look like a ghost town instead of the vibrant place it had been earlier.

  She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and spun, hands lifted, then forced herself to quickly put them down when she realized it was a couple of hikers heading to their car.

  She heard a step behind her and she twisted around. Just someone leaving work late, locking up.

  The woman looked at her and her eyes widened. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

  Samantha remembered that her clothes were shredded as well as wet. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to make her tone soothing. “But I lost my phone. Is there a pay phone around here?”

  The woman pointed.

  “Thanks,” Samantha said.

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  Samantha took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Forget about it,” she said, letting her words wash over the other woman. The woman’s eyes unfocused slightly, and then she nodded and headed for the parking lot.