The Possession

by Spikes J. D.

  Chapter 7

  The hospital’s main lobby receptionist told me Zach was in Room 307. The housekeeper snapping new sheets tightly on the bed gave me a rueful smile. “Nope. You missed him. They left about an hour ago.”

  I drove the pickup out of the visitors’ lot and turned it toward The Barrens. That was the nickname given the development area where Micmac Indians like Zach lived. Zach’s mom was Nova Scotia Mi’kmaq but his dad, Maine, so they’d returned here after she died and settled near family. The land had been given back to The People when they gained federal recognition. The original name on older maps was Barrett’s Acres.

  The Barrens was probably more accurate. Maine’s infamous underlying bedrock, close to the surface in that area, made the land difficult to build on. Not considered the best buy in town, but, being part of the land that once belonged to the Micmac Tribe, they willingly accepted it.

  ‘As a start’ is how Aunt Dwill put it. She knew a lot about it because their land abutted the lighthouse land.

  I knew Zach’s street. I’d looked up his address that first day we met. Aunt said Mr. Philbrook worked hard around their property and with anyone else there who needed help.

  It was evident. I pulled up in front of a neat, well-groomed yard with a tidy plant border along the short driveway. Zach’s mother had put in mostly perennials so that Zach and his dad didn’t have to worry over it, but his grandmother still put a few annuals in every spring.

  Some kids playing a sidewalk game gawked at me all the way up the front walk. I rang the bell, eyeing the wicker swing on the porch that looked suspiciously like something Aunt Dwill—no, Eddie—would have picked out.

  The door opened a crack. An elderly woman pinched her eyes together at me. “Yes?”

  “Is Zach home?”

  She frowned.

  “The hospital said he’d come home. I’m a friend.” And in case he’d mentioned me, “Daphne Wentworth.”

  A small smile creased her lips and she opened the door. “Come in.” As I went to pass her, she leaned out the door. When I looked back toward the road, in the same direction, I saw the kids had now lined up along her front fence.

  “Ejiglateja’sit.” The old woman waved a hand at them. It sounded like ij iggle ah teg ah sit. “Shoo!” she called again, scattering them in shrieks and giggles.

  She winked at me.

  We entered the front room. Bright, airy, sparse, guys, those were the first four words that entered my mind. The bright and airy would probably be Gram’s work. I wondered if she lived here or just visited often. I would discover later that Gram had her own place. The bright and airy was Mr. Philbrook’s doing. A holdover from when they lived in Nova Scotia. He was a logger and an eeler there. A landscaper and handyman here. He needed the light and space.

  Zach entered from a door on the far side of the dining room, most likely the kitchen. He slid his plate and glass onto the table, almost without looking, his eyes fastened on me.

  Gram eyed us, one to the other.

  Zach nodded to me and addressed his grandmother. “The pharmacy called. Your medicine is ready. Want me to go get it?”

  His grandmother frowned. “You aren’t to go anywhere.”

  “Daphne will drive me.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

  I listened and kept my face neutral.

  His grandmother, mumbling under her breath, crossed to a plush rocker in the front room and lifted her purse from beside it. “I’ll go get my medicine. You, Zach,” she eyeballed me hard, then him, “will behave while I’m gone.”

  Zach nodded solemnly. As his grandmother pulled keys from her purse, he motioned me to sit across the table from him. He slid into his seat. “We’re good.”

  She came to my side, eyes drilling. I smiled my most cooperative smile. “I’ll make sure he behaves.”

  She grinned at that, her eyebrows then narrowing in a mock frown at Zach, and left.

  A motor revved in the driveway. As the sound ebbed Zach rose from his seat. I stood. He strode around the table and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged him to me. His grip was so fierce, I thought I would lose my breath.

  “Daph.”

  The single word, whispered against my hair, made my whole body tremble. A warning. A call.

  But as Zach buried his face farther into my hair, his arms slid toward my waist and his shoulders began to shake.

  “Zach! What’s wrong? Zach?”

  I tightened my hold.

  His hands roamed up my back and onto my shoulders. He pressed his forehead to mine. After a deep breath, he stroked the waves of my hair away from my face and peered into my eyes, “You’re still okay.”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled me against his chest, securing me there. He started to rock, his breaths deep.

  “What happened, Zach?” He was scaring me. “What happened at the beach?”

  The rocking stopped.

  A car turned into the yard. Too soon for Gram to have returned. Zach released me and all but shoved me into the chair as he reclaimed his own. He slid his glass to me and jammed some chips into his mouth. The door swung open. I gulped from the glass.

  Mr. Philbrook filled the house.

  I’m sure we both looked guilty as hell.

  His father took a visual tour of the area and returned to us. “Daphne.” He nodded with a polite smile. I guess I’d been forgiven for running out on him last night. “Where’s your grandmother, Zach?”

  “Hi, Mr. Philbrook,” I acknowledged.

  Zach shrugged. “She went to the pharmacy to get her stuff. I said I’d go, but she wouldn’t let me.”

  “Good.”

  He tagged Zach’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he passed and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I really should get going. How ’bout if I call you later?” I asked, pushing his glass back to him. He took a swig and shook his head.

  I wrinkled my nose at him, confused and a bit hurt.

  “Is your aunt going to the town meeting tonight?” he asked.

  “As far as I know.”

  He placed the glass back onto the table and stood, motioning me to do the same. “Dad! Daphne’s leaving.” He nudged me toward the door. Mr. Philbrook came in from the kitchen.

  “Good bye, Daphne. Nice of you to check on Zach.”

  Zach held the door open for me and followed me onto the porch. “Yeah, thanks for coming by. That was nice.”

  He delivered his lines perfectly, standing near the open window, and presented his hand. I placed my palm to his, deflated at this sudden turn of events.

  He squeezed my hand and leaned in. I offered my ear, expecting he had something private to say. He kissed it. His grin at my shock made me smack him mid chest.

  “Seven-thirty,” he murmured with barely a flinch. “Reading Rock, at the line. You know it?”

  “Yeah. I—”

  “Meet me.”

  * * *

  Aunt left for the meeting at seven o’clock. The night was warm and I couldn’t wait any longer, so I headed out on foot. The air cloyed, almost muggy, but not thick enough to drain your strength. Rowdy tried to follow me, no doubt mistaking the light throw I packed into my bag as a picnic signal. I finally locked him in the keep.

  The dark slate blue of the night sky, crystal clear, revealed good weather ahead. Not a cloud marred it. Faint stars began to show through, pinning it in place. By the time true darkness fell a zillion stars would pierce it. The effect mesmerized. I think that’s one thing I missed most the rest of the year . . . the ability to look up into the night sky and see brightly cut stars stretch for miles without the distraction of street lights.

  Once I got to the road from the keep drive, I struck off to the left. About an eighth of a mile of deserted road awaited.

  The lighthouse beacon flares every four seconds. Shadows flashed around me, keeping time. It creeped me. Walking alone by the murky woods was not my idea of a fun time. Zach wai
ted at the end of my trek, though, so I continued on. A nonsensical song stuck itself into my head and I hummed to myself.

  The bell on the cemetery gate sounded.

  My feet froze in place. I peered into the deepening gloom of the woods, but the cemetery wasn’t visible from here.

  Why had I left Rowdy behind?

  My heart ratcheted up a notch. Could sound travel that far? My feet broke free of their moorings.

  “Who cares?” I said aloud, hoping even my own voice would make me feel not quite alone.

  Then I ran.

  I ran all the way to the narrow unmarked lane, the beaten path to Reading Rock. Flew down the path, checking over my shoulder, almost losing the bag that had a flashlight and blanket inside. What was I thinking, agreeing to this?

  What was I thinking, what was I thinking . . . my feet beat out the new tune as I raced along.

  Reading Rock loomed suddenly, perhaps because I was looking back as I rounded the bend. I wondered if I could make my way up the side of the massive rectangular stone in the dark and conceal myself in the huge glacial split that gave the rock its name.

  My hands scoured the nearest surface, looking for a toehold.

  “Daphne.” His hand clamped my shoulder. I spun around to confirm his identity as I swung my bag at him. He blocked it with his forearm. “Jeez!”

  “Zach. Thank God.”

  “What’s the—”

  “Someone’s coming,” I hissed, cutting him off. “Help me climb up here.” I turned my attention back to the rock. Zach pulled me back around.

  “Someone followed you?”

  “Yes! I don’t know. I-I think so.” My voice caught.

  “You can’t go up there in the dark. You’ll get wedged. Come on,” he ordered.

  There were myriad trails that ran out from Reading Rock. Zach took but a moment to make his choice and we were off.

  The path twisted and turned a lot at the beginning then straightened. We slowed, quieting in our flight. Zach stopped suddenly and stepped off the trail.

  “This way.”

  About eight feet from the path, a building appeared. A small stone house of sorts.

  “No way, Zach. I am not going in.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not.”

  He lifted a stone from the ground beneath the single narrow window and pulled a small waterproof pouch from underneath it. A skeleton key, shaken from the pouch, fell into his hand.

  “Want to stay out here and see if whoever it is finds us?” he asked.

  I grabbed the back of his shirt and followed him in.

  He left the door open, allowing the light from the rising moon to show the way. After he settled me in the back room on a narrow straw mattress-type bundle on the floor, he headed back to the door to secure it.

  “What if—” I called, uncertain in the unfamiliar.

  “Shhh! There’s a door to your right. If anything happens, we can still get out.” He said no more, just continued back to the door we had entered by.

  The wind picked up, the sound of leaves lashed about, eerie in the dark hollow stillness. The cobblestone walls seemed to enhance and echo the sound.

  Once Zach shut the door, we were plunged into darkness. I heard him feel his way through the gloom. I couldn’t see him at all, not even a snap of movement, but heard him breathe in the dark.

  I turned to the sound, to my left, my voice hushed. “What is this place?”

  “A hunter’s lodge,” he whispered from the right.

  Chapter 8

  The brain cannot deal with eyes opened in pitch blackness, unseeing. It refuses to believe that nothing is visible, and will drive you insane in its insistence.

  My eyes widened, straining. The warmth of Zach’s body emanated from my right, though we weren’t even touching. To my left I felt the cold draft of an empty room.

  I leaned to my right, but my eyes continued to stare to the left. “Did you hear that?”

  Zach’s fingers stumbled over my wrist, closing on it. “Things echo weird in here.”

  At his touch I stilled, my heart thrumming down to a steady beat. We sat in silence, listening to the growing wind and the absence of human sound.

  “I think we’re okay,” he said at last. I nodded, then realized he couldn’t possibly know that.

  “Me, too.” A few heartbeats passed. “I have a light. Should we use it?”

  “Hold on.” He let me go and stood. I concentrated on his passing, his footfalls on the floor, the sound fading as he crossed into the other room. He hesitated only once. I heard a scraping, the ping of something metallic, and a swish. He returned, his footsteps sure as his comfort with the building re-emerged. He paused right in front of me. “Go ahead. Light it.”

  I pulled the flashlight from my bag. It was one of those camper things that can be either a large flashlight or a lantern. I turned it on, the light slicing through the room at Zach’s ankle level. Placing it on its face, the light dulled until I tugged it up into lantern position.

  A soft white light bathed us. Zach smiled at me through the shadows, his expression clearer as he lowered himself to sit once again beside me.

  “I covered the window. Even if someone comes, they shouldn’t find us.”

  I nodded. Placing my bag to the side, I glanced in that direction to make sure it really was just an audio illusion then I turned to Zach. This time I grabbed his wrist. “Talk to me, Zach. Tell me what happened. At the beach.”

  He lowered his gaze. I felt the burn of it on my hand where I still held his wrist. “I can take it, Zach. You have to tell me. How can I help if I’m in the dark?”

  “I want to tell you.” His voice thickened. “But I don’t.”

  “Why? Don’t you trust me?” I leaned closer, my hand sliding up from his wrist to his elbow.

  “I trust you more than . . . anything.” He covered my hand with his own. “And I wish you didn’t have to know.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid it’ll bring more down on us. I don’t want it ever to happen to you.”

  I sighed, exasperated. “More what? Have what happen? Just tell me, Zach. Tell me.”

  He removed my hand from his arm. “Something hit me.”

  I stared at him.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “Yes!” My head bobbed. “That’s what it looked like.”

  Zach pinned me with his gaze. I clasped my hands in my lap, knowing my touch was unwanted right now. “Your feet came up from under you, like someone shoved you. I can’t stop thinking about it.” I lowered my eyes, breaking the connection, not wanting to see his disbelief. “Right after he ripped up the chip bag.”

  Our eyes met. Zach looked worn and weary. “Whoever he is, he means business. I . . . I don’t have words for it, Daphne.” He rubbed his eyes then moved to rest his back against the wall. The chill from the damp cooling air seeped into the room. I pulled the throw from my bag and took my place by his side. I tossed the throw around us, to block out the clamminess of the air. He tucked us in.

  “Find your words, Zach Philbrook, and clue me in, so we can fight this together.”

  His story began.

  “Something was there, Daphne. You felt it. Didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “The chip bag. It was ripped from my hands.”

  “Chips everywhere. At first I wondered why the heck you did that.” He shrugged, apologetically. “But then I felt it. When I stood, something hit me.” A funny look crossed his face. “Someone hit me. I swear it. He came up from nowhere, in front of me, and suddenly . . .”

  Zach rubbed his face. “Every fear I’ve ever had in the world was in my face, in here.” He pounded his chest then clutched it. “Inside me. All at once.”

  “Like what?” I asked, barely breathing. It was rude, but I needed to know.

  “Boogeymen in the dark.” He tried to smile, to ease his words, but fear shadowed his face. “My mom dying. Worry that my dad would be
next. Losing Eddie. The whole world screaming in the dark that I don’t belong here.”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  “What do you mean, you don’t belong here?” He ignored me, his eyes remaining closed. My stomach clenched. “Zach? Answer me.”

  He pinched his lips together, then relented. “With you.” His eyes opened and he slanted a look my way. “I don’t belong with you.”

  My breath left me in a whoosh and I fell back against the wall, my arm brushing his, electric. It had never occurred to me that Zach may not want this attraction.

  Why hadn’t I realized? Common sense, though, said if the town made it a problem for me while I was here—and the short time I’m here at that—wouldn’t they make it impossible for him? Someone they had at their disposal year round?

  But what if he didn’t want it because I’m . . . white. I’d never thought of myself as white. I just thought of myself as me. Like I thought of Zach as a guy. Granted, a really, really cute guy, but still . . .

  Ro! Do not listen.

  Goosebumps rose on my arms. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Zach asked, eyes studying me.

  We are as one. You belong with me.

  “Do we?” I asked. “Do we belong together?”

  Zach sat up, the throw sliding from his shoulders. “I don’t know! You make me feel all mixed up. And the stories. I wish I didn’t know the stories, so I could figure out how much I really feel and how much is because of the stories. If any of it is because of the stories.”

  He shoved the blanket off.

  “What stories?” Something inside me shifted, like I already knew the answer.

  Ro!

  I struggled up from the wall, rising onto my knees. “Do not let them sway you. I care not what the ‘good folk’ may say!”

  I threw my arms about his neck, kissing his face, his ear, his hair. I pressed myself against him. “If you love me, then love me. We will find a way.”

  Vincent crushed me close, his lips finding my neck, my hair. He loosened the pins and it tumbled down my back.

  Like fire. He breathed, and buried his hands in it as he claimed my lips. I melted in his embrace and together we fell to the pallet . . .