“I wasn’t talking to you, old man,” Jerry said. “I was talking to him.”
“I’m Sheriff Thompson,” the sheriff said.
Then, he took Jerry’s hand. The two men shook.
“Are you fucking her, Sheriff?” Jerry said.
Before Jerry knew what hit him, the sheriff did. He planted the butt of his palm in his throat. Jerry landed in the flatbed. Writhing in pain. Furious, he grabbed his gun and rose up.
“I knew you were fucking him!” Jerry screamed.
Then, the sheriff saw the reflection of Kate’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Goodbye, Jerry,” she said.
She slammed the brakes. The truck stopped, but Jerry kept going. His body slammed into the cab. He doubled over.
“Fucking bitch!” he said.
In another split second, Kate Reese hit the gas, and the sheriff watched Jerry tumble out of the back of the flatbed. He hit the pavement and rolled down the side of the road.
The hospital convoy passed him as dozens of cars chased after them. The quiet was over.
Here came the storm.
Chapter 115
Christopher’s mother looked up as a gust of angry wind spread the clouds over the town. The wind blew the trees over. The branches fell like severed arms, blocking the road ahead. She took a hard left through a front yard. Cars tangled in the trees behind her, slowing down the assault. Her mind raced. She had to get to the highway. She turned on the radio, desperately searching for a traffic report.
“…a great snowstorm through the tristate area…”
“…Bad Cat 3D now on video is the purrrfect last-minute Christmas present…”
“…blue moon I saw you standing alone…”
“…what is being called the refugee war in the Middle East…”
“…local traffic every fifteen minutes on the hour…”
She stopped the dial and turned up the volume.
“Traffic through the Fort Pitt Tunnel is jammed. Excellent work. We can’t let them escape. They are trying to get to 79. So, look for them around the high school.”
Christopher’s mother quickly did a 180 and turned away from the high school. There had to be one path open. She had to find it.
“They did a U-turn,” the radio voice said. “They are turning away from the high school.”
Christopher’s mother looked through the windshield and saw the cars back on her tail. They were hurtling toward the truck. She was never going to be able to outrun them.
“Turn off your headlights, Mom,” Christopher said weakly.
“What?” she said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you where to go.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Christopher’s mother turned off the headlights. The DJ’s voice crackled through the radio.
“We lost them. They might be able to hear us. Go to the alternate station.”
The radio went dead. Christopher closed his eyes and began to describe what he saw. Christopher’s mother could almost see it. A giant maze of streets filled with cars, searching for them like the ghosts in Pac-Man. Jerry wiping the blood from his road rash. Hitching a ride from the caravan. Hell-bent on finding her. And killing her in front of the sheriff.
“Turn left,” Christopher said, coughing blood into his hand.
Christopher’s mother made a left. Then, a sharp right. Whatever he said, she did blindly. She looked in the rearview mirror. They were starting to lose the hospital mob. It was working. They were going to make it. She turned back to the front windshield. Her eyes adjusted to the blue moonlight. She floored the gas pedal as deer began to crawl into front yards and driveways. Behind bushes and trees. Waiting for the order to strike.
A deer ran in front of the car.
She slammed on the brakes, and the truck skidded in the snow. Christopher’s mother turned into the skid. She straightened out and raced toward Route 19. She saw the on-ramp right in front of her. There was still a chance.
“Go straight, Mom. Faster,” Christopher said.
The deer broke through the yards ahead of them. Christopher’s mother floored the truck, trying to make it to the on-ramp before the deer overtook it. The speed climbed. The wind howled. The entire street began to fill with cars all converging on that one intersection.
Christopher’s mother pushed on the pedal so hard, she thought her foot would break through the floor. They barreled toward the on-ramp, but the cars beat them to it. Colliding in an explosion of glass, metal, and flesh.
Their escape route was blocked.
“Where do we go now, Christopher?!” she asked.
Christopher was silent.
“We need to get to the highway. Where do we go?!”
“The highway is gone,” he said.
The news hit all of them. Without the highway, the town may as well be an island. They were stuck in Mill Grove. Kate Reese’s mind raced. There had to be a way out on surface streets. They could get to a neighboring town. Things would be better in Peters Township or Bethel Park or Canonsburg.
i will never let hIm leave, kate.
She shook off the voice and kept driving. The snow fell, making the streets slick like glass. Everywhere she went was a new dead end. An abandoned car. A fallen tree. Roads turned into parking lots. Everywhere she drove, the car simply returned to the streets she knew all too well.
They were driving back to their neighborhood.
They were going to the Mission Street Woods.
i will kIll him, kate.
“Where do we go, Christopher?!”
“There is nowhere to go, Mom,” he said weakly.
“Yes, there is!”
Christopher touched her leg with his hand, burning with what felt like a 108-degree fever.
“He will never let me leave, Mom,” Christopher said.
The deer galloped like horses with an invisible rider. Dozens of them broke through the lawns. There were too many of them. Christopher’s mother refused to accept the inevitable.
The deer were going to overtake the car.
i’m going to kill your son now, katE.
Christopher’s mother raced to the crossroads. A stampede of deer charged in front of them. Dozens more charged from behind.
There was no escape. It was over.
They were never going to survive.
Chapter 116
Mary Katherine slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The engine redlined. There was no extra gear. No extra speed. She looked in the rearview. The congregation chased her. Blaring their horns. Stones in their hands.
“Jesus, please save us,” she cried.
A deer ran from the woods. Mary Katherine screamed. She swerved left, barely missing the deer. Barely missing Hell. Terror gripped her heart.
“God, why is this happening?”
The voices on the wind wailed as the snow fell from the sky. The world was coming to an end. She knew it. This was the end. She turned sharply toward Route 19. The highway that she was never allowed to drive on. Another deer raced in front of her. Mary Katherine skidded right, barely missing it.
“God, why are You letting this happen?”
Two more deer ran into the road, blocking her from turning onto Route 19. God wasn’t going to let her escape this time. She had sinned too greatly. He was going to force her into hitting a deer. He was going to force her into Hell. She gunned the car up the hill. The blue moon hung on the horizon like an angry eye.
“What did I do to deserve this?”
It started as a dark little seed in her heart. Every question she never dared speak. Every doubt she ever had.
“I told my mother the truth. What else did I do? I didn’t do anything. I know I thought about it, but thinking it is not the same as doing it. It’s not fair. Why do You give us bodies we don’t get to use? And we can’t even think about it? I don’t understand. I have confessed every sin. And it’s still not good enough?”
The cars flew behind her. Horns blaring. She saw the deer c
reeping out from behind houses on both sides of the road. Her lips curled up in anger.
“Well, what the hell is that about? I’m sorry, but why did You make these rules that no one can follow? Why do you give us these tests that we can only fail?! Well, do You want to know what I think?! I think when Eve bit the apple, she didn’t commit the original sin. YOU did!”
Mary Katherine was so angry she didn’t know how to stop it. She felt more horrible with each word. But it was intoxicating at the same time.
“You didn’t have to banish her! She loved You! You were her Father! When you love someone, you don’t test them. You trust them. You talk to them. And You never talk to me! You just sit there silent, and I do all the talking. I do all the work, and You do nothing! And I’m supposed to feel bad for YOU?!”
Mary Katherine looked up at the sky. The clouds like angry faces.
“I did everything You told me! I believed everything You said! I prayed to You every day, and to thank me, You had my parents bring me to a stoning?! You had me get on my knees in front of You?! Why do You want me on my knees?! Why don’t you want me on my feet?! What the hell are You afraid of?”
Mary Katherine hit the next street.
“God, please make me understand because I am starting to hate You, and I never want to hate You! I need You to talk to me this time! I can’t do it by myself! I know You keep silent because of free will, but You can’t this time! I’ve lost everything. My mother. My father. My boyfriend. My priest. Church. Home. Town. Freedom. And I deserve an answer. TALK TO ME, GOD DAMMIT! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”
Because I don’t love you, Mary Katherine.
The voice was so calm. So sure. So gentle.
“What?” Mary Katherine asked.
I don’t love you.
Mary Katherine felt a chill crawl down her spine. She saw the deer running out of the woods up ahead. Ready to hurl themselves in front of her car.
“You’re not God,” she said.
I am God, Mary KatherIne.
“God loves everyone, so you can’t be God. You’re the devil.”
Mary Katherine thought about her plight, and it suddenly dawned on her.
“And I’m not the Virgin Mary,” she said plainly. “I’m Job.”
Mary Katherine looked up ahead. She saw a truck barreling down a side street. Dozens of deer were chasing the truck. Her car raced toward the intersection at a ninety-degree angle. Somehow, she knew who was inside that truck.
It was the little boy.
Christopher.
Mary Katherine realized it was all a test. Three times she drove near Christopher. Three times she was brought to a crossroads. The first time, she stopped at the stop sign. The second time, she barreled into the little boy. And this was the third. The holy trinity.
Father. Son. Holy Spirit.
Ice. Water. Clouds.
She didn’t know why God needed to test her, but she knew the world was ending, and He didn’t have a lot of soldiers left. She was just one dot of paint on His massive canvas.
And it wasn’t about her, was it?
Mary Katherine wasn’t kept alive for herself. She was kept alive for Christopher. The minute she understood that, the voice went away. The imposter was gone.
And a great comfort fell over her.
She realized that she was living everything she had ever feared. She was pregnant. Shunned. Hunted. Hell had come to Earth. She was in the valley of the shadow of death.
But she feared no evil because the Lord was with her.
The car raced to the crossroads. There was no way out. She either had to hit the deer or let them rip Christopher to pieces. Mary Katherine lowered her head.
“Jesus, I am a sinner. I am vain. I am narcissistic. And my biggest sin was that I have been so afraid of You that I never really loved You until this moment. But I’m not afraid anymore because heaven and hell are not destinations. They are decisions.”
Christopher’s truck ran through the intersection. Her car flew down the street.
“I love You, Jesus,” she said.
Mary Katherine turned the wheel and barreled through the herd of stampeding deer. The car buckled under the weight. Antlers ripped through the windshield and windows. Then, they ripped through her flesh. The car rolled a dozen times before finally landing on four thrashed tires. Mary Katherine looked through the blood running past her eyes at Christopher and his mother racing away. For the moment, they were safe.
Mary Katherine smiled.
“Take care of them, Jesus,” she said.
Before she went unconscious, she could feel Him sitting next to her. His hand as warm as the blood running down her arm. She felt at peace because she would believe in Him for the rest of her life. Not out of fear. But out of love.
Mary Katherine was free.
Chapter 117
Christopher’s mother looked through the rearview mirror as Mary Katherine’s car flipped down the road. The girl had saved them from the deer.
They still had a chance to escape.
She floored the truck. The Mission Street Woods loomed in the distance. She saw doors open and dozens of mailbox people run into the street from the houses. Screaming.
“…Givvve him toooo ussssss…”
She looked in the rearview mirror. The mailbox people began to crest the hill. They were coming from everywhere. Clogging every road like the arteries of a man minutes before a fatal heart attack. There was no street left.
Except one.
Monterey Drive.
For a moment, she remembered turning onto this road with their real estate agent back in September. For the first time, she would have her very own house. She could finally give her little boy a safe home with a good school and good friends. She looked down at Christopher. He was pale as a ghost. Blood pouring from his nose.
“I will never let them take you,” she said.
She looked ahead at the Mission Street Woods as the clouds moved like a cancer across the sky. The fog coming to take back the earth and drown it in floods. The whole world was being replaced by its own shadow. She felt no fear for anything other than her son. She would live for him and die for him and kill for him. She would do anything to keep him alive.
They reached the cul-de-sac. She slammed the brakes and picked up her little boy’s sick body like a rag doll.
We can escape on foot.
There’s still a chance.
Christopher’s mother carried him from the truck. Ambrose jumped out of the flatbed. He helped the sheriff to his feet. The sheriff winced, the wound coming apart in his side. The four stood in the cul-de-sac as the clouds rolled toward them like a battleship. The thickest fog she had ever seen. Cars appeared in the distance, their headlights illuminating the street like a ghostly lantern. Garage doors opened. Mailbox people appeared on the horizon. Their screams traveling down the street like a game of telephone. Running at them full speed. They were surrounded. Backed into a corner.
They had nowhere to go but the Mission Street Woods.
They ran off the cul-de-sac. Across the field. The clouds made a thick fog, glowing in the blue moonlight. All visibility died. Christopher’s mother heard the voices getting stronger. People pouring into the woods from every angle.
“Where do we go, Christopher?” she asked.
Her son held her a little tighter. Terrified.
“The Collins family parked near the construction site,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Mr. Henderson entered the woods from the north with the doctor and Nurse Tammy. The car that picked up Jerry just stopped. Jerry just ran into the woods with a gun, Mom.”
Christopher’s mother rushed on with her son in her arms. Ambrose and the sheriff at her side. The trees whipped by at a staggering pace. She couldn’t see where they were going. But she knew Christopher could. All the eyes. The people watching. The woodland creatures. The birds. The nice man had eyes everywhere.
It would take a miracle for them to escape.
Chapter
118
Ambrose looked through the halos in his eyes. He saw the frozen path ahead of him. His feet pounded the snow with every step. Something compelled him to run. Faster. The smell of baseball gloves. The voice in his mind.
My brother went into these woods fifty years ago.
I can still save my brother.
The fog was unworldly. He could barely see an inch in front of his face. But the old soldier knew that camouflage works both ways. If he couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see him, either. He finally caught the silhouette of a child running up ahead. Ambrose turned back.
“Sheriff, did you see that?” he asked.
But the sheriff was gone.
“Sheriff?” he repeated.
Ambrose stopped. He could hear nothing but his own heart pounding. He searched the halos in his eyes, but he could see nothing but fog all around him.
“Mrs. Reese? Christopher?”
It was dead silent. He couldn’t see Mrs. Reese or her little boy. Somehow, Ambrose had run too far. Too fast. He had lost them. He was all alone. Suddenly, he felt the wind on his neck.
“Ammmmbrrroooseeee,” the wind whispered. “ittt’ssss daaaavvviiiddddd.”
Ambrose listened to the wind, his heart gripped with terror and hope in equal measure.
“David?” he said.
“yesssSsssss,” the wind whispered.
“Where are you?”
“hhhheEeeErrrreeee,” the wind said.
Ambrose felt a chill on his skin. The mist of the clouds danced down the path, the fog floating like smoke from his father’s old pipe.
“hheelllllppppp meeee, ammbrrosseee,” the mist pleaded.
Ambrose followed the voice. Even with the halos in his eyes, all he could see was the fog in every direction. He heard whispers around him. Something was in here. He didn’t know what, but he could feel it. This little whisper on the hairs on the back of his neck.
He heard a footstep.
“thhhheyyyy’rrreee cominngggg ammmbrrrosssse,” the wind wheezed through the branches.
Another footstep.
Imaginary Friend Page 59
