The Clearing

by Tom Deady

  “She said, ‘You are chosen, Ezekiel Jacob Mather. Chosen to do great things.’ I shook my head again. Everything was wrong. How did she know my name? The air around her was shimmering, like when you look down a road on a hot day. There was nothing but silence. No birds, no insects buzzing, nothing. My head was all full of cotton. I knew, somehow, I knew I was on the verge of something irreversible. Irrevocable.”

  He paused. Hannah watched his eyes, riveted. He was back there, in the clearing, reliving that day. She licked her lips, wanting him to go on but not wanting him to.

  “I grew up poor. That’s why I lied about my age to get on that crew. My folks were about to lose their house. The money I made helped them hang onto it. There were no fancy birthday or Christmas presents growing up. The year I made my First Communion, my folks gave me a small silver cross, and I thought of it like treasure. I wore it everywhere.

  “When that old witch reached out to touch me, I pulled that cross out and held it in front of me. I don’t even remember thinking about it, I just did it. She flew backwards against the altar. I didn’t wait around to see what would happen next. I turned and ran, tore through those bushes, ignoring the cuts and scrapes I felt. You can bet I held onto that cross.

  “I heard the old lady laughing as I was crashing through the brush. I ran until I found my way back to the rest of the crew, the old witch’s laughter in my head the whole way. I still hear it sometimes, when I’m feeling low. Like she still wants something from me. But I didn’t really think she was still alive.”

  He put his head down but not before Hannah saw tears in his eyes. He reached up to his collar and pulled on the silver chain around his neck, fingering the small cross that hung there.

  “Wait, how do you know it was Mama Bayole? Did she tell you?”

  Jacob looked exhausted. The story had physically worn him out. His face was haggard, his eyes sinking into their sockets.

  “She never told me, not with words, but there were things in my head after that day, things she put there. Her name was one of them.”

  Hannah thought back to her visit to Mama Bayole’s farmhouse. What would have happened if I had lain on that couch?

  “You keep calling her an old witch. Is that what she is?” Hannah already knew the answer.

  “I’m sure of it. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  “What about Sammy-Five? Dad said you... you went back there, to the clearing?”

  An expression of such deep sorrow and remorse crossed Jacob’s face that Hannah had to look away.

  “Yeah, I went back, and Sammy paid the dues for my bad judgment. It was like I had to go back, had to find that place. That godless place. Something else I think she put in my head. I resisted most times, but I realized too late that alcohol made it harder... it weakened my resistance. That night Sammy and I drank too much, and she had me.”

  Tears spilled freely down his face and splashed onto the table like raindrops. Hannah’s heart broke for him.

  “We went into those woods and I managed to find the spot. We wriggled through those bushes and brambles and into the clearing. It was just like I remembered it. The same stink of evil, the same unearthly quiet, all the bones and those stick dolls.

  “And her. Sitting on the altar. It scared me sober just seeing her. I grabbed hold of my cross and I swear it was warm between my fingers. I believe the power of the Holy Spirit was flowing through that cross, protecting me. It wasn’t enough to protect Sammy, though. I was bigger and stronger than him, but I couldn’t drag him out of there. The whole time that... witch... she just laughed.

  “I left him there, Hannah. Left him with her. When I pushed through the brush to get out of there, I heard noises... I heard...”

  Jacob stood suddenly. His hands were balled into tight fists. He was breathing hard and sweating. Hannah thought he might be having a heart attack. He threw a twenty on the table.

  “Let’s finish this outside, I need some fresh air.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, just walked out. Hannah followed. They ended up at the gazebo. The day had started brightening, the clouds thinning to reveal patches of blue as the sun struggled to make an appearance.

  “I think she took him, took his soul. I don’t remember much after that. I think I got lost in the woods, or maybe I passed out for a while. Next thing I know it’s getting dark and I’m back at the car. Sammy comes stumbling out of the woods some time later looking like death on toast. He was shaking and his shirt was covered with vomit. He wouldn’t speak to me.

  “I drove him home and he was never the same. Took to drinking day and night, got kicked off the crew. I tried to talk to him, tried to get through to him. I even brought a priest to his house. By that time, I had vowed to never drink again and given myself to God. I knew that was the only way to keep her from getting me.

  “Father Paul and me went to Sammy’s place. He wouldn’t answer the door, but I knew he was there. I broke the lock and we went in. The place stunk—there was rotten food everywhere and spilled booze and... there was puke all over the place. Even through all that stench, it was evil I smelled. Sammy was in bed, just lying there, eyes open.

  “We tried to talk to him, but he would just mumble occasionally. Not to us, but like he was having an entirely different conversation with someone else. I knew it was her. Father Paul, he sensed it too. He began to pray over Sammy. He splashed holy water on him, and Sammy screamed like it was acid. Father Paul kept at it.

  “It wasn’t an exorcism, not exactly, but it was in the same neighborhood, I guess. It went on for hours. Finally, Sammy started sweating like I had never seen a man sweat. It was pouring out of him in rivers, I swear. And the stench.” Jacob shook his head. “His clothes were soaked through and he was screaming, all the while Father Paul was praying and splashing holy water.

  “Sammy arched his back so just his head and heels were touching the bed. It was just like in the movies. I was terrified but couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away. Then he went limp and collapsed back onto the bed. He woke up a few minutes later, smiled, and asked us when we’d got there.

  “Father Paul left him with a set of rosaries and a crucifix. We planned to go back the next day. When we got there, his car was gone. You know the rest, they never found him.”

  Hannah stood and walked to the railing of the gazebo. The sights and sounds of summer surrounded them. Two kids she recognized from school tossed a Frisbee back and forth. Families with toddlers laughed at the playground, while some teenagers played basketball and tennis on the courts. Hannah longed for the normalcy of it.

  “What do you think happened to him?” she whispered.

  “On good days, I think he took those beads and the cross and kept them with him and he burned that car so she’d think he was dead.” He smiled wistfully, then stood and joined her at the railing. “I picture him somewhere nice, maybe near a beach, a bunch of grandkids running around. Him in an old lounge chair, watching it all, holding those rosaries and never, ever thinking of that day in the clearing.”

  Jacob was crying again, and Hannah reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

  “And on bad days?” Hannah whispered.

  He bit his lower lip and his body hitched with sobs. It took a minute for him to get control of himself.

  “I think she got him.”

  “After Sammy came out of the woods that day, I never took another sip of alcohol. I devoted my life to the church because I believe it was the cross that saved me. The power behind the cross, I mean. Maybe it was a selfish reason, but I think, I hope I did a lot of good over the years. Even still, sometimes she calls me.”

  Hannah rested her small hand on the big man’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure you do a lot of great work.”

  Jacob patted her hand and tried to smile. He looked so old, so beaten.

  “Jacob, I don’t know what to do next.”

  “I’m scared for you. That old witch, living just down the road from you
. She already tried to get you once.”

  Hannah turned and slouched against the gazebo railing. She’d come looking for answers, looking for something that would make everything better. Instead, she was burdened with such a sense of hopelessness she didn’t know what to say or do.

  “I think I need to go to the police, but the blogger said some of the people in this thing are the police,” she said. “What is it, a cult of some sort?”

  “I don’t know what it is, Hannah, but that old witch oversees it. I don’t think it’s entirely natural,” Jacob replied.

  Hannah realized he had never said Mama Bayole’s name, as if saying it aloud would give her more power. She also realized he was trying to bring up the one thing we hadn’t talked about yet.

  He continued, “Because there’s no way the old lady you encountered is the same one I did, unless...”

  “Yeah, unless.” Hannah nodded. Unless she really was a witch or was somehow using the sacrifices to live longer. She refused to say it aloud.

  She looked out over the park again, searching for an answer somewhere in the brightening day. Was it possible one or more of the people at the park had something to do with this? Was one of them watching me and Jacob right now?

  At that moment, the sun burst through a break in the clouds, bathing everything in a glorious light, but Hannah went cold and she felt the color drain from her face. Jacob noticed and went to one knee to look into her eyes. For a bizarre second, Hannah thought he was going to propose.

  “Hannah, what is it?”

  “Ashley,” she managed to squeak, unable to get enough air to speak.

  “Calm down, girl. Breathe. That’s it. What about Ashley?”

  Everything around Hannah was starting to go gray until her entire scope of vision was Jacob’s worried face.

  “Ashley... She went... to meet the blogger. What if...”

  Jacob stood with a slight groan and put his arm around her, leading her to the steps of the gazebo.

  “Tell me where she went, we’ll go get her,” Jacob said, the strength returning to his voice.

  Ashley pedaled along the winding country road, trying to keep her eyes everywhere at the same time. On two occasions, she almost rode right off the road and down an embankment. Each time she heard a car approach from either direction, she found a safe spot to pull over and let it pass, studying the car and driver as it went, searching for anything suspicious. It would be easy for someone to, well, to do whatever they wanted on this lonesome stretch between two small New Hampshire towns.

  Maybe I’m not cut out for this shit.

  She arrived safely, but mentally strained. As she locked Hannah’s bike to the rack, she rotated her head to relieve the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. It wasn’t from the bike ride—she could make that ride in her sleep—it was stress. A dull throb ebbed in her temples, the result of her clenching her teeth. The sheen of sweat wasn’t the healthy sweat of physical exertion—it was the rancid sweat brought on by fear.

  With a final look around, she went into the library. She checked her phone but had no messages and she was a few minutes early. She found a display of new releases and randomly grabbed a couple of books to distract her while she waited. One last look at her phone—she remembered to mute it—and she made her way to one of the tables in the center of the room as instructed. The library was sparsely populated compared to the day before.

  She took a seat, flipped open one of the books, and stared at nothing, waiting.

  The main door opened, then closed slowly with a heavy click. Ashley resisted the urge to turn and see who came in.

  It’s him, you know it’s him. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d sat.

  “Ashley?”

  The voice was barely a whisper—she learned nothing from it. She nodded. The chair next to her scraped on the waxed floor. Her heart had grown wings and was fluttering madly in the cage of her chest, trying to escape. She bit her lower lip and turned to face him.

  That’s it?

  She suppressed a lunatic giggle. The man beside her was as average as a man could be, straight out of central casting for a middle-aged white guy. Relief coursed through her. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

  “Hi. I’m glad you decided to meet me.” She smiled at him, but he didn’t return it. He just stared. “Anyway,” she stammered, “I thought we’d start off by comparing notes—”

  He cut her off. “I don’t want this to take long, okay? I just need you to tell me where you found the foot.”

  Get out! Run!

  The thought exploded in her head. One minute she was processing his statement, the next minute every alarm in her body was going off. The relief she’d felt only moments ago was gone, replaced with throat-closing panic. She fidgeted for a few seconds, trying to focus on anything but her rising fear, trying to calm down. She flipped closed the book that was on the table, knocking it to the floor with a crash that sounded like an explosion in the quiet of the library.

  A flash of anger crossed the blogger’s face, then he bent to retrieve the book. Ashley grabbed her phone, and her fingers flew across the touchscreen. She opened one app, then quickly switched to the camera. She tapped the button rapid-fire, taking a few pictures of the blogger as he was sat back up with the book in his hand. She put the camera on the table and flipped the cover of the second book open to hide it just as the blogger turned to her.

  She took the book from him and placed it on the table mouthing a silent apology. “Listen, I’ve been thinking, maybe we should just call the police—”

  “No. At least one of them is a cop. We go to the police and we might be the next bodies buried in the woods.” His voice had risen above a whisper to a shrill hiss.

  Ashley swallowed, her mind spinning. “What is your name? I—”

  “No names.” His voice was loud. He stopped, looking around. When he spoke again it was in a whisper but somehow more menacing than a scream.

  “No names, I already told you that. You haven’t been paying attention at all, have you?”

  Ashley’s eyes darted across the table, sure her phone wasn’t visible, sticking out from the corner of the book cover. Of course it wasn’t.

  “I told you my name,” she said softly, afraid to provoke him.

  The muscles on the sides of his jaw bulged and his lips tightened to hard slash. “I’m done playing games with you.”

  Ashley stood. “I’m leaving—”

  But she didn’t. His next words froze her, the muscles in her legs turning to stone.

  “We have Hannah.”

  “West Meadow Library.” Hannah replied. She still felt lightheaded, disconnected from the events, a spectator watching the story play out.

  They crossed the park, heading back toward the diner. Jacob stopped beside a mammoth boat of a car and pulled out a set of keys. Despite Hannah’s fear, she couldn’t help staring at the car with a bemused expression.

  “You could start gathering animals two by two,” she said, glancing up at him.

  Jacob stopped, key poised over the lock, then erupted in a booming laughter. Hannah was helpless but to laugh along with him.

  “You’re all right, girl, and you’re gonna be all right.”

  Somehow, the shared laugh and Jacob’s words brought her back.

  He opened the door for her, and Hannah tumbled into the enormous front seat. With the gait of a much younger man, Jacob went around to the driver’s side and climbed in, rocking the car on its springs. The engine started with a roar and they pulled out, heading toward West Meadow. Hannah kept turning around, watching for any sign that we were being followed but saw nothing.

  “You know I have a rearview mirror, right?” Jacob said with a grin.

  Hannah offered a sheepish grin of her own and shrugged. She knew she was overreacting, but that didn’t stop her from calling Ashley’s cell every few minutes. Ashley didn’t pick up.

  She’s at the library, pro
bably getting a lot of good information from the mysterious blogger.

  It was no use—nothing was going to calm Hannah down until she saw Ashley with her own two eyes. She felt Jacob glancing at her but kept her gaze on the road, trusting him to use the mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed.

  They turned onto Maple Street and Hannah saw the library. She craned her neck to get a better view of the area next to the granite steps where she knew the bike rack was. It’s there! It was chained to the rack. The sense of relief was overwhelming.

  “That’s my bike,” Hannah said, her voice shrill and panicky. “She’s here, she’s okay.”

  “That’s good,” Jacob replied, his own voice steeped with relief. “That’s real good.”

  Jacob parked the car and Hannah bounded out, nearly falling. She ran toward the door, not waiting for Jacob. Once inside, she breathed in the smell but didn’t savor it the way she normally would. She glanced at the center table but didn’t see Ashley. Walking as calmly as her buzzing nerves allowed, she searched the rows for her friend. The door opened and closed, Jacob had entered the library.

  Hannah reached the far end of the library, crossed to the opposite side, and started looking through those rows. As she came full circle to the front doors, dread wrapped her in its embrace. Her chest tightened and she darted her eyes back and forth, trying to search the library again. Jacob was standing by the librarian’s desk. He turned his palms upward with a shrug, then engaged the librarian in conversation. Hannah went to the middle table where she noticed there were open books, and something else.

  With trembling hands, she picked up the cell phone, seeing all the missed calls on the screen. Ashley’s phone never left her hand. Hannah’s heart rate doubled, tripled. She leaned against the table. Her mind reeled back to a day she’d found a baby rabbit in the woods. It had been just lying on the trail, listless, hadn’t even tried to hop away when Scout had nudged it with his snout. She’d picked it up in her cupped hands and felt its tiny heart beating so fast Hannah thought it would surely burst. That’s how her own heart was beating now.