Class Trip II

by Bebe Faas Rice

  “It’s supposed to mean that in a town like Holyoake, we value our privacy. We don’t like people poking around in our living rooms. That book was Aunt Phoebe’s private possession, and she wouldn’t like an Outsider reading it and thinking she was some kind of a nut. And while we’re on the subject, we don’t like Outsiders coming into our church, either, like it was a public bus station or something.”

  “Outsiders! I’m getting sick of that word. What’s the matter with you people anyway? Do you think you’re all alone on this planet, and the rest of us are aliens from outer space?”

  She was gratified to see him blush. He certainly was good looking. What a shame he was such a pain in the neck!

  “And besides,” she continued, “who told you I went into your church, anyway?”

  “This is a small town, in case you haven’t noticed,” he said with a sneer. “Everybody knows everything that happens around here.”

  He leaned closer, and she noticed how very dark and intense his eyes were. “And maybe it’s because this town was built around the church, but we take our . . . religion . . . pretty seriously. It’s private. Sacred. And just for us. Know what I mean?”

  Hallie nodded cautiously, her eyes wide. This guy scares me, she thought. Is he crazy or what?

  “So how much longer are you going to be in town?” Simon asked abruptly.

  Hallie cleared her throat. Her voice wobbled a little when she answered, but her words were defiant. “You ought to know, since you seem to know everything else that goes on around here. But, just in case you missed something, we can’t leave until Norman fixes the van. According to him it will take a couple of days.”

  Then she glared at him and added, “And believe me, that van can’t be ready a minute too soon.”

  “If you’re that anxious to leave, why don’t you go on foot?” Simon suggested. “There’s a little road that goes up over the mountain. I’d be glad to escort you.”

  His voice was so casual that, for a moment, Hallie wondered if he was serious. She waited for him to say something else, but he remained silent.

  He’s only being insulting, she thought. She tried to come up with a smart answer that would put him in his place, but he turned and left the room before she could think of one.

  Chapter ELEVEN

  “What’s wrong with Becky?” Adam asked Hallie that afternoon. “She was totally zoned out at lunch. And then I tried to get her to come for a walk with me, or at least go outside and throw a baseball—anything to pass the time—but she’s always busy doing stuff with Mrs. Grigsby.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Hallie asked.

  “Right now the two of them are in that little room off the back hall—the one with all the dried weeds. Who knows what they’re up to?”

  “Those aren’t weeds. They’re herbs, and that’s Mrs. Grigsby’s famous herb room. Listen, Adam, be patient with Becky. She’s the only one of us who’s enjoying her stay here. You know how hung up she is on history—this herb medicine thing is right up her alley. So what are you doing this afternoon?”

  “What is there to do? Can you believe there isn’t one movie theater or TV set in this entire town? There’s not even a tennis court!”

  “I thought you’d go back to watching Norman fix the van,” Hallie said.

  “Are you kidding? I’m afraid of him—he acts really weird when I’m there. I’ll just hang out with you.”

  Hallie and Adam walked out to the Green, where the villagers were putting the finishing touches on their preparations for the festival. The old oak was hung with garlands. A group of men, under the direction of the vicar, were raking the Green, and the bonfire had been made ready. Logs and bones had been heaped high around the stake and platform. Hallie told Adam about the tradition of a bonefire and the burning of a straw maiden.

  “Are you kidding me?” Adam asked. “They’re really going to burn an effigy at the stake?”

  “Yes. It’s kind of a symbolic thing,” said Hallie.

  “Boy, these guys sure know how to throw a party,” Adam said with a shudder. “Nothing like sacrificing a virgin to break the ice.”

  “I think it’s bizarre,” Hallie said.

  “It’s not my idea of a fun festival, that’s for sure,” Adam said.

  Hallie moved a little closer to him and lowered her voice. “Listen, Adam, these people are fanatics. I went into their church this morning. All I wanted to do was look around, but the minister popped out of a back room and practically threw me out the door. You should see the inside of that church! I’ll be so glad when we’re out of here.”

  Adam groaned. “It’s just my luck to get stuck in a town like this. Why couldn’t we have been stranded in a cool place?”

  “The church isn’t the only weird thing,” Hallie continued. “Look at those kids over there, Adam. Do they look healthy to you?”

  “Not really. They look kind of pale and skinny.”

  “Have you noticed we’ve only seen a couple of children in this town?” Hallie asked. “No babies in strollers. No parents with toddlers.”

  “To tell you the truth, Hallie, I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “Well, I have. You know how it is at home—you can’t walk around the mall without tripping over strollers. So what’s with these people?”

  “I hope you’re not going to make me ask them,” Adam said.

  Hallie grasped his arm and pulled him to a stop. “This isn’t a joke, Adam. I’m dead serious. There’s something really abnormal about this town.”

  “Because they don’t have any kids running around?”

  “Well, that and a lot of other stuff.”

  They started walking again. “Think about it, Adam,” Hallie said. “Why is this place so isolated? There are lots of small towns and villages around, but they’re not cut off from civilization like this, are they?”

  Adam shook his head thoughtfully. “No.”

  “I think the people of Holyoake are cut off because they want to be cut off,” Hallie said. “They don’t need anyone else. Everybody here seems related to everybody else—it’s like a clan. And they don’t want to have anything to do with the twentieth century!”

  They’d turned off onto the brick sidewalk that skirted the Green and were now nearing the church.

  Hallie tugged on Adam’s arm again. “Whatever you do, don’t look like you’re even thinking of going into that church. Did I tell you they have torches on the walls?”

  Hallie didn’t mention the marble font and its mysterious red stains. She was afraid Adam would think she’d gone overboard in her suspicions.

  “Is that a graveyard behind the church?” Adam asked. “Let’s go look. I love to read old tombstones. Some of them are really great.”

  “That’s where the man came this morning,” said Hallie. “He turned and ran back here.”

  “What man?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Remember the man we met on the road—the one who told us how to get here?”

  “Sure. Nice guy.”

  “Well, I saw him this morning, by the church,” Hallie said, “and when he saw me, he got this funny look on his face and ran around the side of the church, like he was scared of me.”

  “You’re kidding. Why would he be scared?”

  “I don’t know. It was really peculiar.”

  “Are you sure it was the same guy?” Adam asked.

  “Absolutely.” Hallie was silent for a moment and then asked, “Did he happen to tell you he was from Holyoake?”

  “No. He acted like he didn’t know much about the place, except that it had a gas station.”

  “That’s the impression I got, too,” Hallie said. “I’m sure he’s from Holyoake, though. He looks like all the others.”

  “Then why didn’t he say so at the time?” Adam asked.

  “That’s what I’ve been wondering,” replied Hallie. “He sure didn’t want me to see him this morning. It was like he didn’t want me to know he lived here.”

/>   “You don’t think he had some crazy reason for sending us here, do you, Hallie? Maybe he doesn’t want you to know he’s from here, because you might figure he set us up.”

  “Set us up for what?”

  “Who knows?” Adam said darkly.

  The old graveyard was shadowed and damp and ringed on all sides by tall pine trees. The ground was carpeted by fallen needles, and the teens’ feet passed noiselessly over the spongy dirt.

  The tombstones were of slate and stone, worn and disfigured by time. Some were tilted, others fallen, and the inscriptions on many of them were nearly indecipherable.

  Hallie and Adam walked through the rows of graves, pausing from time to time to read what was carved on some of the newer ones. The same names came up, time after time, as if the number of original families had been small, with few new ones being added as the years progressed.

  Finally Adam and Hallie found themselves at the far end of the graveyard.

  “This is it, I guess,” Adam said, looking around.

  “I think there are some more graves over there,” Hallie said.

  A carefully pruned hedge of English boxwood fenced off a corner of the graveyard, creating an isolated enclosure. Hallie and Adam entered through a break in the hedge.

  A group of white marble headstones, all uniform in height and width, stood in two neat, closely spaced rows. They appeared to be well tended.

  Hallie went over to them, walking between the rows, and scanned the inscriptions.

  “Look at this,” she called to Adam. “All the tombstones are those of young girls. And they’re all sixteen to eighteen years old. Some of them go back over two hundred years. See?”

  Adam joined her and peered down at the stones. “Wait, Hallie. These aren’t tombstones—they’re memorial markers. Nobody’s buried under these stones. They’re set too close together to be graves.”

  Hallie looked around her. Each stone was spaced only a couple of feet from its neighbor, far enough apart only to accommodate the planting of a few flowers between them.

  “I think you’re right,” she said slowly. “And for some reason, this section gets a lot of care. See where they’ve mulched all around the flowers?”

  Adam knelt and studied the markers. “Did you see the dates on the stones?” he asked. His voice was tight and strained. “They all died on the first of May. Different years, but always on the first of May.”

  “The first of May. May Day . . . Beltane,” Hallie said, feeling as if a cold hand had just taken hold of her heart.

  “Beltane.” Adam’s face was pale. “They all died on Beltane, from Lucinda Stockwell in 1704 to Deborah Evans ten years ago. She’s the latest one.

  Hallie got down on her knees beside Adam and took a closer look at the inscriptions.

  “That’s not all, Adam,” she said. “They’ve all got the same picture carved on them. See? There on the base of each one.”

  The engraved image was a picture of crossed bones surmounted by flames.

  “What is it?” Adam asked. “Is it supposed to be a bonfire?”

  “No,” Hallie said, almost in a whisper. “It’s a bonefire.”

  Bonefire. Bonfire. May the first. All this—the memorials, the dead girls—has something to do with the odd religion no one wants to talk about, Hallie thought with a deadly certainty. The religion that got these people cast out of England, these people with their church Outsiders aren’t supposed to see. Bonefire. Bonfire. May the first.

  “Wait a minute!” Adam was saying. “I’ve seen that bonfire picture before! Norman has a tattoo like that on his wrist. I saw it when he was working on the van. Crossbones and a flame. Just like the inscription on these stones.”

  Hallie gasped, remembering. “And so does Reverend Thoreson! I remember seeing what looked like a small tattoo on his wrist, but he saw me looking and pulled down his cuff.”

  “On his wrist? Right. That’s where Norman’s was.”

  “I didn’t want to stare at the reverend’s,” Hallie continued. “It seemed so strange, him being a minister and all, and then having this tattoo—”

  “But was it the same one?” Adam interrupted.

  “I can’t swear to it, but I think it was. I remember seeing what looked like a flame. Oh, Adam, what does all this mean?”

  “I don’t know, Hallie, but I’m starting to get scared. I’ll be glad when we can get the heck out of this miserable town.”

  They stared at each other, eyes wide. Neither heard the footsteps that came toward them across the soft earth of the cemetery.

  Hallie was suddenly aware of long legs in faded jeans standing beside her, and a lean, muscular arm reaching down to help her to her feet.

  An arm that bore the bonefire sign tattooed on its wrist.

  “Simon!” Hallie gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here, remember? And we all take turns doing odd jobs around the churchyard on Saturdays.”

  He cocked his head at her quizzically, as if to ask her what she—and Adam—were doing here.

  He was still holding her wrist, but gently this time, not the way he had last night. Hallie wondered if he could feel her pulse and if he’d noticed how rapidly it was beating. Would he think she was nervous because of him?

  The thought angered Hallie. Why was he always following her around, anyway?

  “I suppose you’re wondering what we’re doing here,” she said heatedly. “I mean, Outsiders in Holyoake are obviously not encouraged to go anywhere or look at anything.”

  Simon only shrugged, his face inscrutable.

  “I’m sorry you find the people of Holyoake so inhospitable, Hallie,” he said. “Actually Aunt Phoebe asked me to find you and tell you that dinner will be a little early tonight. She’s got a meeting at the church afterwards. Some emergency’s come up regarding the Beltane festival.”

  He turned on his heel and walked off.

  “When they invented the word cool,” Adam said, looking at Simon’s erect, retreating back, “they must have had that guy in mind.”

  Chapter TWELVE

  “You followed her and the boy this afternoon, as instructed, and they went where?” asks Reverend Thoreson.

  “Just out on the Green,” answers Simon. “Then to the old cemetery.”

  “The cemetery? What part of the cemetery?”

  Simon shifts uneasily from one foot to the other. The vicar has not given him permission to sit. “They were just . . . uh . . . walking around when I caught up with them.”

  “They weren’t over by the memorials to the Fire Maidens?”

  Simon looks directly into the vicar’s eyes. “No.”

  “Good,” says the vicar. “That makes our job a little easier.”

  “Sir?”

  “She and that boy might have put two and two together if they saw the markers. We couldn’t risk that, not now. We would have had to eradicate them now, instead of later.”

  The vicar leans forward in his chair. “What a nuisance that would have been, with everyone so busy with the festival! Besides, it could have caused difficulties with Becky. One never can safely predict the behavior of young girls, can one?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “And you are prepared for what you must do when the festival is over?”

  Yes, sir.

  “You are to dispose of the girl. Just the girl. Someone else can handle the boy. He might prove a little stronger, and since this is your first . . .”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  The vicar fixes his strange, silvery-gray gaze on Simon. “I hope you realize what an honor it is we are bestowing on you. A leap of faith, as it were, and a show of trust.”

  “Yes. I’m very grateful.”

  “This is your chance, Simon, to make up for past offenses against The Goddess. Offenses you inherited in your tainted bloodline.”

  Simon’s jaw tightens slightly, and a muscle in his cheek twitches, but the vicar doesn’t notice.

  “Yes
, my boy. If you do this job well, you can, at last, truly be one of us—a loyal son of The Goddess.”

  “You can depend on me to do the right thing,” Simon replies.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  Something was very, very wrong with Becky.

  When Hallie and Adam returned to Mrs. Grigsby’s, they found their friend staring at the living room wall, distant and wide-eyed.

  When they tried to talk to her, she responded pleasantly, but vacantly, in one-syllable words.

  “Are you okay, Becky?” Hallie asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

  Just then a smiling and rosy Mrs. Grigsby appeared in the doorway, taking Becky’s attention away from her friends. Frustrated, Hallie couldn’t help feeling that her landlady’s sweet-little-old-lady act was just that. An act.

  “Oh, Becky,” Mrs. Grigsby said with a smile. “You said you wanted to watch me prepare the spinach soufflé for supper.”

  She smiled apologetically at Hallie and Adam. “I’m usually a meat and potatoes cook, but I do make a lovely soufflé. Becky said she’d like to learn how it’s done.”

  Without a word, Becky rose from her chair and followed Mrs. Grigsby out of the room.

  “Did you see that, Hallie?” Adam asked. “I’m worried. I mean, really worried. Becky was zoning at lunch, but this is ridiculous! What does she care about a stupid soufflé? She’s acting like a zombie! If I didn’t know her better, I’d think she was on something.”

  “I know, and it scares me, too,” Hallie admitted. “Talking to her was like talking to a wall. No response.”

  “I saw it,” Adam agreed, “and I don’t know what to think. The only person she seems to listen to is Mrs. Grigsby. You don’t think she’s hypnotized Becky or anything, do you?”

  Then he smiled and made a helpless gesture with his hands. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I just can’t figure out what’s going on with Becky.”

  “Everything I’ve been thinking since we came to Holyoake would sound crazy if I said it aloud,” Hallie told him. “But the time has come to say it, no matter how far out it sounds.”

  She glanced quickly over her shoulder to make sure Mrs. Grigsby wasn’t lurking in the shadows. Then she took Adam’s hands in hers, drew him over to the sofa, and sat down with him before the cold and empty fireplace. A slight wind in the chimney rattled the embers on the hearth.