Then again, I probably wouldn’t.
Cecelia was a more likely savior of the garden, something I should have realized after seeing the lush container plants on her porch. I inspected a blackening green pepper, wondering how much Cecelia knew about vegetables, when a vehicle pulled into the driveway.
I recognized it immediately as the blue car that had pulled in and then backed out the week before. I expected them to back out, but instead the car pulled to a stop and Bobby climbed out the passenger side.
The moment of when still snuck up on me. One can never be completely prepared for that, can they?
With my body hidden by a short row of corn stalks, Bobby and his two friends didn’t notice me as they climbed up to the porch. They peered into the windows, and my stomach sank. Bobby held something long in his arm; a crowbar? He let himself in the open kitchen door as the other two looked back to where I hid. Neither one made a move that showed they saw me.
Ages passed before Bobby stepped back outside. He stopped. His face pointed in my direction, and for a moment I thought he saw me. Then he moved back and forth over the porch examining the woods. He pointed the crowbar towards the sky over the trees, and a loud shot went out. Birds flew from the trees, fleeing the land. A gun, not a crowbar. “Megan!”
I sank deeper into my knees, wanting to become invisible and part of the earth. Fade into nothing. Hands grasped my shoulders, but no one was there and the pressure slipped away as fast as it had begun.
“Megan! We got something of yours.” Bobby turned back to his friends. “Get him.”
If only I had Dad’s shotgun, I could make some kind of show myself. Scare them off maybe. A restraining order would not do shit against a gun in Bobby’s hand.
Dirt fell on my wrist as if it rained clumps from the sky, and I shook it off. My brain could no longer contemplate anything other than what was happening at Bobby’s car. Bobby’s friends dragged something lumpy and long from the backseat, dropping it onto the gravel, then yanking it up.
Jordan.
He limped along between the pair of Neanderthals. Even from where I hid, I spotted dark, bloodied bruises on his face, and could see the parts of his body he favored. He’d received a full work over from Bobby and the gang.
“We got your toy!” Bobby shouted, looking into the woods, having concluded I wasn’t inside.
Jordan spat in Bobby’s face, and my heart stopped. Bobby raised the gun and placed it against Jordan’s temple as I bit back a scream. The invisible hand pressed on my shoulder again, rooting me into the ground.
I tried to stand but without realizing it, the dirt covered my legs by then, continuing to rain from an invisible source. I dug at the dirt pinning me down. The hand on my shoulder gripped tighter. She didn’t want me to go. I took a deep breath. “I have to.”
“No.” The whisper came from the forest, as if from every tree, and all four of the men swiveled to the trees. The gun rested on Bobby’s shoulder again.
“Whatcha doing, Meg?” Bobby called. I heard fear in his voice. They’d heard the whisper too.
I climbed out of the dirt and stepped around the garden. Dirt dripped from my body as I walked. The hand remained on my shoulder.
“Dammit, Meg,” Jordan said, sounding more irritated than scared.
The comforting hand disappeared. “Leave him alone.” My voice came out braver than I felt.
Bobby stepped away from the others and jogged down the steps. I waited for him at the garden, my eye never leaving the gun.
“Knew I’d get you out here somehow,” he said.
“What are you doing?” I asked, as he came closer. Trying to ignore the gun in his hand. Placing a light tone in my voice. Hey, we’re old friends. You don’t have to do this. We used to live together, remember? “Why do you want to hurt Jordan?”
“You pushed me in front of a truck.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, I don’t know how you got everyone to cover it up, but I saw you. I felt your hands on my back. You tried to kill me.” He saw the woman. Both of us did. No way he’d believe it wasn’t me.
“This is between us. You and me. Leave Jordan alone.”
“You told the cops that I wrote on your car and broke in to your house. Lies.” His hands shook and black dust fell from him leaving a circle of darkness underneath him.
“You did that stuff.”
“A restraining order? They gave it to me at work. It doesn’t sound like you want it to be between us. You want this to be between everyone.” He waved the gun around while he spoke. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?” I cried out, terrified of what he would do with the gun. His eyes shimmered with fearful confusion. “Bobby,” I stepped closer, my palms open, “put the gun down.”
“You pushed me in front of a car,” he whispered. I’d never seen him look so human before. This close up, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the hollowed look of his cheekbones. Every time I moved, his eyes followed me like I might be the one with the upper hand. “I don’t know how, but you did it. Now, you’re spreading lies. Getting me in trouble for things I didn’t do.”
“It wasn’t me.” I edged closer. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Bobby, and I didn’t push you.”
He pointed the gun at me, and I halted. “Stay. I know you. I know the things you do. You hide them, somehow. And everyone thinks you’re poor little Meg. Abused and confused. But you bring it all on yourself. It’s you! Then you do, these...things? How do you do these things?” He looked back at the woods. “That sound.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced back to Jordan and Bobby’s friends. Bobby’s boys’ eyes shifted. Didn’t look like they were too sure about their participation in the day’s events anymore. The three of them edged down towards us.
“You don’t. Of course not.” He shook his head, as though realizing something and trying to shake the conversation off. “Why’d you tell the cops I broke in?”
“I recognized your work.”
“The hell you did. You think I’m looking to do time? My brother gets out in two months, and we’re out of here. We’re putting Oregon behind us and starting over somewhere. You think I really want this shit following me. Following him?”
I had forgotten about Bobby’s older brother, he’d been in jail since Bobby and I started dating. I didn’t think he would ever get out of prison. But, he gave us common ground. We both wanted the drama of this place far behind us.
“If you were concerned about shit following you, you wouldn’t have kidnapped Jordan and threatened us with a gun.” I caught him in this twist, but part of me believed him. Only part.
He lowered the gun. “I needed to do something. You’ve been fucking with me since you got back.”
“What?” I didn’t mean to yell, and in the echo of my voice I looked expectedly at the gun. The other three had almost reached us. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You tried to kill me.” His friends were next to us by then. I looked at Jordan long enough to register a bloodied lip before Bobby raised the gun. The invisible hands gripped my shoulders again, but this time instead of comforting, they squeezed and pulled me off my feet.
Bobby fired the gun.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When I hit the ground, my back cracked against the wooden side of the garden bed. My head landed on fallen leaves, cushioning the blow, and safely hiding my face between the corn stalks. I lay immobilized in fear.
“Dude,” a man whose voice — I’m dying — I did not recognize said. “You fucking shot her.”
“She was coming at me. Meth heads have crazy wiley strength.”
I’m not a meth head, asshole. I recognized the tone in Bobby’s voice. It was his, how-can-I-make-this-someone-else’s-fault, voice. The voice he used — I’m dying — when he realized he was wrong, but wouldn’t admit it.
After I caught him cheating. You’ve been working
so much, Meg. What was I supposed to do? Wait for you?
After he got mad enough to slap me — I’m dying — or throw me into a wall. You know all the buttons to push. Push and push until I POP.
Footsteps approached, then hesitated. I’m— I pushed the recurring thought away before I willed it true. Many days had gone by when I wished I was dead, but I didn’t want that anymore. Did I?
Had Bobby even shot me? A sharp pain dug through my hip where I’d landed on the corner of the garden bed, thrown back by the force of the blast. No, I’d been yanked a second before I heard the shot. Someone moved me, saving me, but maybe a little too hard. Death did not tear at my gut in bullet form. Not yet.
Bobby appeared over me with shaking hands. He didn’t want to do this, I could see it in his eyes, but he was wouldn’t be able to let me go. No question, no doubt this time. The barrel pointed at my face.
“I’ll make it quick,” he whispered. He thought he had shot me at least once. He wanted to finish the job. This was his solution, to make sure the outcome was not as bad for him.
“Bobby, please.” Tears slid down my face.
“Megan?” Jordan asked. I heard an unidentified shuffling sound, and couldn’t lift my head to make sure he was okay. The world had narrowed into the two iron holes staring at me, like eyes.
“Away.” A tired voice said, hidden on the other side of the corn stalks.
“The fuck?” Bobby said, stepping back and tripping over his feet, but did not fall. I sat up, grabbing my hip, but ignoring the pain. The other three stared behind me, their faces equally twisted in terror.
I crawled out of the garden bed and then turned around as Jordan helped pull me to my feet. Aunt Dee stood amongst the corn. She dripped dirt as one might drip with water after taking a clothed swim.
“Can you guys see her?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Jordan said, linking his arm into mine. He clutched his side, leaning against me.
Bobby raised the gun, pointed it at at Aunt Dee and pulled the trigger. Jordan and I slammed to the ground, faster than either of our bodies could stand. Pain surged through my hip again, and Jordan let out a grunt. I looked up. Small holes opened and dirt flowed from Aunt Dee.
Another click came from Bobby’s direction. I assumed he reloaded the gun, but was too terrified to take my eyes off Aunt Dee. He shot again. The sound repeated, reload and blast, on a loop, with each shot Jordan and I clutched tighter to each other.
“Stop.” Aunt Dee’s voice came from everywhere around us. I looked up at her, taking in her gray skin, limp hair and torn face. Dirt poured from the gunshot wounds, landing at her feet and disappearing back into her toes. Bobby shouted an indistinct word, and Aunt Dee turned her attention off of him and onto me. The air in front of her grew cloudy, like a dirty screen hung in the air between us. Her mouth moved this time when she spoke. “End this.”
“Huh?” I squeaked. “What can I do?”
“Geraldine, I know you can hear me. The wind ain’t blowing right now.”
“Mama?” I looked around, would she be standing over my shoulder?
Bobby’s friend grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Come on, dude. We gotta get out of here.”
“Finish this.” Dee crumbled back into the earth like she’d never been there.
“Meg,” Jordan stood, tugging at my arm.
I pulled myself to standing, my eyes searching around us. “She said my mama’s name. You heard her, right? What if Mama’s here too?”
“We need to go,” Jordan said.
“Dude.” Bobby’s friend demanded his attention. “Let’s go before that thing comes back.”
“One more lucky shot.” Bobby fished in his pocket.
“Run,” Jordan said. His fingers wrapped around my upper arm so tightly I was sure his nails would break the skin. Everything around me still blurred, but Jordan stood on the other side of the screen, clear enough I could make out the splattered blood caked below his hairline.
“I won’t let them hurt you.” The words came from my mouth, but it wasn’t me.
“Bobby, man. Let’s get out of here.”
“Dammit, Meg.” Jordan grabbed my elbow and led me into the camouflage of the forest.
We tore through the woods, feet heavy on the ground, leaving Bobby, his friends, the gun, all of it behind him in the valley. It was a new decade, and we stumbled and tripped into the woods together. Just like we should have all those years ago. The assholes stayed behind, arguing about what to do next.
We darted off the path, and the filter fell away. As we pushed between brush and trees, I became a hollow shell, nothing inside but terror sloshing at my sides.
“What was that?” he asked, running his hand down the right side of his ribcage.
I didn’t know how to answer him. Not outside the obvious. I told you so. I told you Dee was coming for me.
He shook me. “We need to hide.”
The blood and bruises on his face were too much. It wasn’t the ghosts I was scared of anymore, but what Bobby would do to Jordan if they found us.
I grabbed his hand and let my feet take over, finding some forgotten track weaving between bushes and weeds. My legs would find the safety that only they knew when I turned off my brain. I didn’t think about any of the real evils that lingered onto Dad’s property to us. As much as we knew the forest better than they did, two injured runners made a slow getaway. Soon, voices closed in. I pulled Jordan behind a large knotted tree.
“We can’t let them leave. They’ll go to the police,” Bobby said, something unnatural in his voice.
“Let’s go. That thing might come back.”
“It’s their word against ours.”
“I shot her. You’re just as fucked as me.”
“You didn’t hit her.” They were too close now. “You hit whatever that...that thing was.”
“Your eyes were playing tricks on you. There was no thing.”
“Bo—”
“Go.” Bobby shot the gun again into the sky. “Find them. I’ll wait here in case they come back.”
His friends didn’t argue again, and we heard them run into the brush. Jordan still gripped his side. “Just run, Meg. Get in your car and go.”
“Come on. I know where we can hide.” I tugged his arm and his face screwed up in pain. I let go of him. “What did they do to you?”
“Just your usual hic showdown. Two to hold ya, one to kick and punch.” He closed his eyes. “Just go. I can’t move right now. I think they broke a few of my ribs, and something is wrong in my stomach.”
I looked back down the path; the assholes were sticking to the paths. We would trudge through off path and get to the neighbor’s house. John didn’t have a car, but hopefully he had a phone.
“I’m not leaving you.” I looked into the woods, searching for the direction to take. “We will hide until they’re gone.
Jordan sat. “I’m not supposed to get out of this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe it’s payback for school. Fate.”
“You sound like an idiot. Don’t start in on fate; you’ve been hanging out with Cecelia too much.”
“Holy shit...logistically. There is a crazy fucker with a gun, and a monster. We can’t both make it out of this.”
“Shut up. We’re going. C’mon.”
I lost my way. Instead of John’s house, we found the playing pit, not realizing where we were until I almost stepped off the steep drop, catching myself around a tree. My feet had moved me here on autopilot.
“I remember this place,” Jordan said, wandering over to the far side of the pit where the edge sloped gently into the pit. It had worn with time and rain, the sloped wall reached further around the pit.
“Yeah,” I muttered, looking around one way and the other. Which was the way to John’s house? “We used to play out here when we were little, remember? If the boys would take us out.”
“Yeah, it was like our own world.” Jordan wandered a
round the floor of the pit, kicking rocks and leaves out of the way and discovering long forgotten toys. The seemed larger when I was a kid, like an entire life could be lived there on the ground. It hardly looked bigger now than the front half of Dad’s house. “Maybe we could just hide down here till dark. They won’t find us here.”
I circled around to walk into the pit. We were far enough from the path it might be a good idea. Quiet, hidden from sight. Especially if we hid in the abandoned fort in the corner of the pit — wood scraps and metal bits piled to form crude walls. Cords, ropes, and old sheets hung at weird intervals —weathered but still holding on.
“Plastic lasts forever, huh?” Jordan asked, touching a tree that grew at the pit’s far corner. It must have sprouted in the years since we left the pit behind in childhood’s dust. A large plastic Tonka truck protruded from the bark as though it had been driven through the tree when it solidified. The color had faded to tan and pink, but otherwise the condition looked good.
Peeking into the fort, I realized it was more weathered than I originally thought, and would not make a safe hiding place. A stick bug the length of my hand walked across a faded Smurfs sheet, and a fat black spider worked at weaving a web between to old metal rods. I shuddered as Jordan picked up the stick bug.
“I love these guys,” he said, turning it over and looking its still moving legs. The creature had not realized that it was futile to continue his walk yet.
“Come on, I think this is the way.” I waved to him; we didn’t have time for this. Jordan gently placed the bug back onto Papa Smurf’s face, then followed after me. His foot tangled in the corner of the sheet and he fell at the same moment the collection of metal and wood that used to be a fort fell to the ground. The sound seemed to echo for ages. The noise froze us into stupid stillness, and we did not move until we had listened to the silence the followed the bang for at least ten seconds.
Jordan stood, unhooking his foot from the hole in the sheet. I grabbed his hand; we had to move.
I looked at the hanging sun, and decided that had to be the way to John’s house. “Jordan hurry—”
Going Home (Cedar Valley Hauntings Book 1) Page 24