Fracture

by C. J. Daugherty

  ‘I can’t find you, Jo!’ she called weakly. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Allie!’ For some reason the hope in Jo’s voice broke her heart. ‘Help me! Please!’

  A sob tore Allie’s throat as she ran. Trees that seemed to swoop down to snatch at her clothes with branches that ended in sharp points, like long, jagged nails. She ignored the pain. She had to find Jo. If she could just get to her in time, she’d live.

  She was exhausted by the time she saw Jo in the distance, lying on her back in a grove of trees, blonde hair glowing around her head like a halo. Her cornflower blue eyes stared up at the sky, unseeing.

  Dropping to her knees, Allie reached for her slim hand. ‘I’m here, Jo. I’m here.’

  Jo’s breath rattled in her throat. As she turned to look at Allie her blue eyes clouded over and turned white.

  ‘Too late, Allie,’ she said bitterly. ‘You’re too late. I’m already dead. And it’s your fault.’

  Looking down, Allie realised she held the hand of a corpse – Jo’s fingers were blue and cold, lifeless.

  She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out…

  Gasping for air, Allie sat bolt upright. Sweat streamed down her face as she searched the dark room with terrified eyes. She scrambled back in the bed like a cornered animal until she huddled against the headboard, trembling.

  Strangled breaths burned her throat. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  It was just that dream again. I’m in my room, she told herself. I’m in my room and I’m safe and everything’s OK. Everything’s OK. Everything’s OK. Everything’s OK. Everything’s OK…

  But the walls closed in on her anyway.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she took in a long, slow, shaky breath, trying to force air into her compressed lungs. She wheezed as tiny wisps of air struggled to get through. Flashes of light sparked at the edge of her vision.

  She used the tricks Carter had taught her for dealing with panic attacks – breathing slowly through her nose and thinking of things that made her happy.

  Kittens, she thought frantically. Little fluffy ones! Sunny days! Chocolate ice cream! Beaches!

  Even as she was still trying to compile it, the list seemed so ridiculous she choked on a laugh, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  As it had before, the trick worked. Gradually the walls began to return to their real locations and her racing heartbeat steadied.

  But the experience left her shaken.

  ‘It was just a dream,’ she said aloud, clutching a pillow tight to her chest like a shield. ‘Just a dream.’

  The darkness felt oppressive and she flipped on the desk lamp, reaching for her alarm clock. It was half past four in the morning.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she leaned back against the cold wall, shoving strands of her hair out of her face.

  Today she started her garden detention – three days a week she was to work from six in the morning until eight in the walled garden. There was still another hour before she needed to get up but she didn’t want to go back to sleep – she could feel the dream around her, coiled like a snake, waiting to strike should she doze.

  Instead, she took a long hot shower then, back in her room, rooted through her dresser for her warmest clothes, choosing as many layers as she could stack – thermal underwear, exercise trousers and two pullovers under her heaviest jumper. When she was ready it was still too early, so she worked on her English essay until six.

  The school was eerily silent at this hour; even the staff were nowhere to be seen as she made her way down the stairs. The creak of the back door as it opened echoed in the quiet like a scream.

  Outside, it might as well have been midnight – not a glimmer of light showed on the horizon aside from the faint light of stars. The grass was covered in a thick frost that crunched beneath the rubber soles of her shoes as she headed across the back lawn.

  God it was cold. It was so cold that breathing made her nose ache and her forehead seemed to tighten around her brain.

  Shoving her gloved hands into her pockets, she tried to burrow deeper into her coat.

  Gardening in February, she complained to herself. Do people actually do this? On purpose?

  Denuded of leaves, the trees lining the footpath behind the school formed a gloomy, skeletal canopy above her. Lowering her eyes, she quickened her pace.

  To her left she could just make out a ghostly white domed roof of the marble folly through the trees. Ahead of her, the footpath disappeared in the dark.

  Uneasy, Allie broke into a gentle jog.

  She didn’t want to admit she was afraid. She told herself she needed to warm up her muscles so they’d ache less when she started working. But tension turned her stomach sour.

  When she reached a long, tall wall made of heavy squares of aged grey stone she allowed herself to relax a little. The garden was inside it. Turning left, she followed it to a sturdy wooden gate. Normally it was kept locked but today the combination lock hung open and the gate stood slightly ajar.

  At the sight of it, a tingle of unease ran down Allie’s spine. Her mind flashed back to Jo, expertly spinning the little dials on the lock. The gate was never left unlocked.

  Someone must have left it open for me, she reasoned. It’s not like I’m not expected. How else would I get in?

  Still, as she stepped through she moved with caution, lowering her centre of gravity, her muscles tense.

  The walled garden was vast – in the summer it produced enough vegetables and fruit to feed the entire school, but at this time of year it looked bare and dead. And as far as she could tell it was deserted.

  ‘Hello?’ she called, standing on her toes to peer into the darkness. ‘Mr Ellison?’

  Her voice sank into the cold earth.

  Someone should be here to meet her. It’s not like going out to the garden in the middle of the night was her idea, after all.

  This was starting to piss her off.

  It must be well after six now. But here she was, alone in the dark, wandering aimlessly.

  ‘This is so freaking stupid,’ Allie muttered to herself as she pushed through a tangle of dry branches. ‘I might as well have a sign on my back that says, “Please attack me, Nathaniel”.’ A thorn she couldn’t see tugged at her sleeve and she yanked her arm free. ‘“I’m alone and vulnerable in the dark. Swoop in now and take me back to your hellhole of global domination.” And why didn’t I bring a bloody torch?’

  At that moment, a sharp cracking sound rang in the air. She whirled towards the noise but could see nothing in the darkness.

  Maybe I just heard myself step on something¸ she thought hopefully. And it echoed.

  But a nerve fluttered in her cheek, betraying her tension.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice sounded uncertain and she cleared her throat. ‘Is anyone there?’

  Nobody answered.

  Allie stopped talking. Maybe it wasn’t great to be advertising her location.

  After a long moment of heavy silence she heard it again – the sharp crack of a branch snapping.

  And she hadn’t moved.

  Allie’s training kicked in – her heart pounding, she dropped down into a low crouch, muffling a grunt as her battered knee protested. Staying very still, she listened.

  Snap.

  There it is again.

  Someone was definitely there – no animal could make that noise. But, whoever it was, they seemed to be at the far end of the garden, although it was hard to tell where precisely – the sound echoed off the encircling walls.

  She stayed low, hidden by darkness and dry brush, thinking through her options. She felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the lingering effect of her panic attack earlier – her adrenaline failed to kick in.

  She knew she should run back to the school to get help. That is what Isabelle would want her to do.

  But what if it was Nathaniel? Or Gabe? What if they were here now? This could be her chance to end this. To pay them back for what they’d done.
>
  She wasn’t back to full strength. And she was alone. Fighting them now would be a bad idea. If she lost…

  She didn’t know what would happen if she lost.

  But all she could think was: If I won… it would all be over.

  In the end, the decision wasn’t that difficult. Rising to her feet she looked for a makeshift weapon.

  Whatever the odds – it didn’t matter. If they were here she wasn’t running away. She owed Jo that much. She owed her bravery.

  Finding two sharp bamboo stakes, she yanked them free of the frozen earth and carried one in each hand as, with careful steps, she crossed to the edge of the garden. There she paused to listen then, moving with stealth and speed, she followed her instincts towards the fruit orchard at the back.

  She couldn’t feel the cold any more. Purpose made her warm and whole. She was entirely focused on what she was about to do.

  She was almost there when she heard the sound again – much closer now. It came from the other side of the row of trees in front of her. Whoever it was, they were in there.

  Her nerves tingled with anticipation – her stomach muscles tightened as she readied herself to spring.

  That was when she heard the laugh.

  The deep, familiar rumble was followed immediately by words she couldn’t make out and then another chuckle.

  She knew that laugh.

  No longer trying to keep quiet, she shoved through the dense cluster of apple and pear trees, half hidden in the early morning dark.

  ‘… and his face turned red, and his eyes bulged out of his face, and I swear to God…’

  Bursting through the trees she saw Carter with his back to her, breaking thin branches into smaller sizes and piling them up as he told his story. Nearby, Mr Ellison smiled as he sharpened a set of clippers. A battery-powered lantern sat between them on the ground.

  Embarrassment made heat rise to Allie’s cheeks. How could she have thought it was Nathaniel? She was paranoid.

  But for God’s sake, she thought, why weren’t they looking out for me instead of sitting back here nattering?

  Shame turned to anger in one red-hot instant.

  ‘Hey!’ She shouted louder than she’d intended. Carter whirled to face her, still holding a long branch in one hand. He looked gratifyingly startled. ‘Why didn’t anyone answer me when I called?’

  She could hear the irritation in her own voice but before Carter could say anything Mr Ellison pointed his clippers at her, a frown lowering his brow.

  ‘You’re late, young lady. And I don’t like how you say “hello”.’

  ‘What? But I… I couldn’t find you. Didn’t you hear me calling?’ Her mood shifted without effort from anger to defensiveness. ‘I looked for you for ages. Nobody told me to come to the orchard, and’ – they were both staring at her as she finished lamely – ‘it’s dark.’

  At that, Mr Ellison began stacking his tools into a worn metal box. ‘No need to go hiring a lawyer, Miss Sheridan. Just try to be on time from now on. And bring a torch. It doesn’t get light until after six.’

  Allie refused to look at Carter but she knew he was trying not to smile.

  Embarrassed, and in a bid to change the subject, she pointed aggressively at Carter. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  Carter opened his mouth to reply but Mr Ellison cut him off. ‘Carter is going to be helping us out today for reasons that are… not entirely voluntary.’

  His eyes twinkled as he said it, and this time Carter failed to stop his guilty grin.

  Instantly, Allie’s hackles rose. So it’s funny when Carter gets detention, but I get treated like an axe murderer?

  The injustice rekindled her rage.

  ‘Awesome.’ Her tone was sullen. ‘So, are we just going to stand around chatting about how funny it is when Carter breaks The Rules, or is there something you want me to do?’

  Mr Ellison’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘I’d appreciate it if you kept a civil tone, Miss Sheridan.’

  She couldn’t remember him ever looking truly stern before. Tall and broad-shouldered, with warm brown eyes and skin the colour of burnished oak, the groundskeeper had always been kind to her.

  Normally she would have apologised and defused the situation but right now she was cold and bruised, every single one of her muscles hurt, she’d had that awful nightmare and nothing was fair.

  She glared at him in mute rebellion.

  When Allie didn’t respond, the groundskeeper spoke again, his tone signalling his disapproval. ‘I believe you’re right-handed, Allie?’

  Some part of her wanted to end this standoff and just answer him straight but she was sulking in earnest now. So instead she gave a dismissive shrug and crossed her arms.

  ‘Allie, come on…’ Carter said softly.

  She bit her lip hard to stop herself from telling him to just shut the hell up. Why wouldn’t he mind his own business?

  Evidently having decided she wasn’t going to speak, Mr Ellison reached into the pocket of his dungarees and pulled out a pair of well-used secateurs, small enough to fit easily in her hand, and held them out to her. He made no move to step towards her. She was going to have to walk over and take them.

  Allie’s arms stayed folded stubbornly. She didn’t want to give in. She wanted everyone to know how angry she was. How unfair everything was.

  But he’d report her to Isabelle. And then Lucinda would find out, and she’d told her she had to cooperate completely, so…

  She had no choice. With slow, resentful steps, she crossed the distance between them and reached for the clippers, trying to show him with her eyes how angry she was.

  When she started to pull away, though, he held on to the clippers.

  ‘I know you’re better than this, Allie,’ he said, not at all unkindly.

  Her first instinct was to tell him he didn’t know anything about her. Nobody did. But then, to her surprise, tears prickled the backs of her eyes. She didn’t want to say mean things to Mr Ellison. She knew she wasn’t in control of her actions right now. She was swinging wildly; hitting all the wrong people.

  She had to stop.

  Her rage dissipated, like a puff of breath in the cold air.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, needing him to accept her apology. Needing him to forgive her.

  His face softened. ‘I understand more than you know, Allie.’ The deep baritone rumble of his voice was comforting. ‘I’ve lost people. Good people. So has Carter. People we loved just as much as you loved Jo. We know how much it hurts. But we got through it and now you have to get through it, too.’

  Allie knew Carter’s parents died when he was only a child. And they were good friends with Mr Ellison. That must have been devastating. They must have felt as bad as she did now.

  She turned to look at Carter, but he’d dropped his gaze, as if Mr Ellison’s words had brought back painful memories.

  The tight strings that had seemed to bind her heart ever since that horrible night loosened, just a little.

  She was not the only one to go through this. And she shouldn’t punish them because of her own pain. All of them had lost someone.

  She nodded fiercely. ‘I’ll sort things out, Mr Ellison. I promise.’

  Perched high on a ladder, Allie trimmed twigs from the gnarled branches of the old apple tree as Mr Ellison had showed her, letting them fall through to the ground. From where she sat she could see the top of the school building – lights had just begun to come on in the dorm windows. Inside it would be warm and starting to smell of bacon and toast.

  At the thought, her empty stomach rumbled.

  She’d had to take off one glove to hold the clippers and she paused to blow warm life back into her frozen fingers. Below her she could see Carter dragging fallen branches into piles and raking leaves and twigs away from the base of the trees.

  Across the orchard, Mr Ellison was busy sawing fallen branches into firewood, so they were essentially alone.

  Amid the protection of the b
ranches she watched Carter work, remembering what it was like to be close to him. She’d been his friend first – then his girlfriend. Now his… nothing.

  Since he’d got together with Jules they hardly spoke. She’d been stunned by how quickly he’d moved on, and he had just sort of avoided her. The air between them remained heavy with unspoken recrimination.

  Climbing down, she dragged the ladder around the tree to a new spot.

  Carter glanced up at her. ‘Do you need some help?’