Water Walker (The Full Story, Episodes 1-4)

by Dekker, Ted

  “Wake up!” Something pushed against her arm and she opened her eyes.

  “Tell me where the truck keys are.”

  Kathryn twisted and stared up into the face of her angel. Only it wasn’t an angel. It was Eden!

  “Tell me!”

  She was dressed up in a dark-brown wig Kathryn hadn’t worn in years. Wearing one of her dresses—a white one with yellow flowers that Kathryn had recently outgrown.

  The truth crashed over Kathryn like a tidal wave. Eden was running again! She’d only pretended to have changed. And now she stood over her mother, glaring, demanding to know where the truck keys were.

  Kathryn jerked up, outraged, and it was then that she found that her hands had been bound—wrists and fingers, so she couldn’t use them. And her ankles. Twine, the same she’d used on Eden, had been tied to the bonds on her ankles and to the bedpost.

  “Tell me where the keys are!” Eden demanded again.

  Kathryn stared at Eden’s work, hardly daring to believe. She’d managed all of this without waking her. She’d planned it all along?

  “What have you done?” she stammered.

  “What I should have done a long time ago.”

  “You untie me this second, Eden Lowenstein! What in the depths of hell has possessed you?”

  “You have,” Eden bit off. “You’ve come out of hell and tormented me! Tell me where the keys are.”

  “Don’t be a fool! You can’t just drive out of here! Have you completely lost your mind?”

  “I don’t know, Mother, have I? You should know. You’re the one who tried to break my leg.”

  “I had to! Don’t you understand? I had to!”

  “Of course you did. And if God—oh pardon me, Zeke—tells you to kill me I suppose you would do that too. But actually you won’t, because I won’t be around to kill.”

  “I would never . . .” Kathryn felt the first waves of a panic attack coming on as the full scope of Eden’s intentions settled into her mind. It was getting light outside. The dogs would be tied off soon. Eden was going to drive out dressed up like her and she might very well make it. If she did . . .

  Kathryn set her jaw and leveled her sternest warning.

  “Now you listen to me, young woman. If you do this there will be hell to pay! Do you understand me? You will reap death if you sow death. An eye for an eye.”

  “I don’t think you understand. I’m leaving hell. I’m going to drive the truck out of here and this time there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  The hatred spilling out of her daughter could hardly be measured. What was this evil that had come over her? How dare she repay her mother with anger after all the years of loving kindness?

  You, Kathryn. You’re the evil.

  She swallowed deep and pushed the thought out of her mind.

  “I’ve looked everywhere for the keys and can’t find them,” Eden said. “So now you’re going to tell me. And if you don’t I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

  Kathryn couldn’t comprehend those words. They weren’t from her daughter. She had to remain strong and stand up to this demonstration of evil if she expected to save Eden.

  “Never,” she said.

  There was no wavering in Eden’s glare. Her daughter had learned to stay the course in the closet; that same resolve now directed her on a new path.

  “Fine.” Eden stepped up, jerked Kathryn’s pinky finger from the binding, and tugged it back toward her wrist.

  Kathryn gasped—a deep, guttural cry as much in shock that Eden could do such a thing to her own mother, as in pain.

  “Tell me, Kathryn!” Eden said. “Or I’ll break it.”

  “You’re hurting me!”

  “Tell me!”

  This was her punishment, she thought. She was reaping what she’d sown. But that thought was immediately overridden by righteous rage.

  “You’re hurting me!” she cried.

  “Have it your way.” Eden applied more pressure and excruciating pain ripped up Kathryn’s arm. Panic overtook her and she lost all bearings but those pointing to survival.

  “Okay, okay, okay, let go!”

  “Tell me!”

  “In the shed!”

  “Where in the shed?”

  “By the lantern!”

  “If you’re lying to me . . .”

  “I’m not, I’m not! For heaven’s sake . . .”

  Eden released her hand, stared at her with fixed inquisition, then crossed to the door, barely limping, and twisted back.

  “If the key’s where you say it is, the next time you see me will be with the police. If it’s not there, I’m going to come back and break all of your fingers.”

  Eden turned and exited the room, leaving Kathryn breathing heavily, fighting back waves of dread. How dare Eden do this! How dare she!

  It’s what you taught her to do. An eye for an eye.

  Kathryn let out a sob. Her mind wasn’t working correctly. She couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs. She had to stop Eden, she knew that much, but the horror of what was happening seemed to have turned her thoughts off.

  If Eden got away . . . Dear God, she couldn’t let that happen.

  Then she remembered. The cell phone.

  She had to get to the cell phone in her dresser across the room.

  Sitting, Kathryn lunged for her feet, grabbed at the string that tied her off to the bed, and dug at the knot. “Hurry, hurry, hurry . . .”

  But she couldn’t get her trembling, bound fingers to work properly on the knots. They were too tight!

  She heard the front door slam shut. Eden was already out of the house, headed for the shed.

  What if she finds the key? What if you can’t get free?

  But she already knew the answer to both questions. Driving by any onlooker, Eden would look like her mother and no one would stop her. She would reach the city. The police would come.

  They would take Eden away from her.

  The terrifying thought washed everything but itself from her mind. Time seemed to slow.

  They’re going to take my daughter away again. They’re going to take my baby away. They’re going to take her away and hurt her. They’re going to take my baby away from me again.

  And then another thought came.

  She’s at the shed by now.

  “Bobby!”

  The house rang with her cry. She screamed his name again, this time at the top of her lungs.

  “Bobby!” She took two heavy breaths. “Bobby!”

  He barged through the doorway and pulled up, eyes wide, still half-filled with sleep. But he’d come. Thank God, he’d come . . .

  “Listen to me, Bobby—”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I need you to do something for me.” It wouldn’t take Eden long to discover that the truck keys weren’t by the lantern. “I need you to help me.”

  “Why are you tied—”

  “Not now, Bobby! Just do what I say. There’s a phone in that dresser over there.” She motioned with bound hands at the long dresser against the wall. “In the top drawer under my socks. I need you to get it for Mommy.”

  Bobby glanced over his shoulder into the hall. “Is Eden running away again?”

  “No, Bobby. Eden’s just running an errand for me. Now I need you to do something for your mother. Can you do that? I need you to get the phone out of my dresser.”

  He stared back, frightened.

  “Why are you tied up?”

  Eden was moving quickly—she could feel it in her bones. Maybe already at the shed . . . Maybe already coming back!

  She couldn’t afford to frighten Bobby, not now.

  “I’m playing a game, darling. I’m practicing getting free so that I can protect you if anything ever comes to hurt us. You can help me by getting the phone. I need the phone. Hurry!”

  His eyes brightened. “A game?”

  “Yes. Yes, a game. Hurry, Bobby, please hurry!”

  Now fully engro
ssed in the notion of a game, Bobby tore for the dresser, grabbed a drawer, and yanked it open.

  “Not that one! The next one. Under my socks.”

  “This one?” He pulled the end drawer open, and peered inside.

  “Yes. Under the socks. Do you see it?”

  Bobby reached his hand in, fumbled around for just a moment, then jerked the small black cell out and held it high.

  “Got it!”

  “Now bring it here.” It was all taking too much time. “Hurry!”

  Bobby rushed over and stuck the phone out. But she didn’t think she had the dexterity to operate the phone herself.

  “Open it.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Open it and push the power button. Hurry!”

  He flipped it open with his stubby fingers and dumbly stared at the keys. He’d never used a cell phone, had he? No. Neither of them had that she knew of.

  “Hold the red button down.”

  “This one?” He showed her the phone.

  “Yes! Push it. Hurry.”

  He did and the phone’s small screen came to life. He grinned.

  “Got it!”

  The doorway was still empty, but Eden would be back. Any moment and she would be back.

  “Now push the one button and then the call button. The green one at the bottom. Hurry!”

  Once again he held the phone up to show her the one button. “This one?”

  “Yes! And then the green button.”

  With great purpose, he pressed the one and then the green call button with his forefinger.

  “I pushed it.”

  “Good! Now set the phone on the pillow.”

  He laid it down and she wriggled around so that she could press her ear against the receiver. It was ringing, she could hear that much. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say when Zeke answered—the thought of confessing her failure again was as unnerving as having her finger broken, but she knew she had to face her own sin and confess.

  “Mother!”

  She whipped around to see Eden in the doorway, staring at her.

  “I’m helping Mommy get free,” Bobby said tentatively.

  Eden’s eyes shifted to him, then back at Kathryn, and then back to Bobby again.

  She can’t see the phone. It slipped off the pillow and my body’s blocking her view.

  “Go to your room, Bobby,” Eden said.

  “I’m helping Mom—”

  “Go to your room!”

  Bobby stared at his sister, dumbstruck. It was probably the first time he’d ever heard her anger directed at him. She had to stall them.

  “No, Bobby,” Kathryn said. “Stay with me. Stay with your mother.”

  He looked between them, confused.

  “Bobby, you can’t help Kathryn get free. I tied her up because Zeke ordered her to hurt me and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She’s not thinking straight right now and so we have to leave her tied up until someone can come to help us. Now go to your room and I’ll come get you as soon as we’re ready to go.”

  Kathryn blinked at the stunning rebuke. A small voice in the back of her mind told her that there was some truth to what Eden had just said. But that too was only the voice of temptation. She had to keep Bobby here—Eden wouldn’t dare hurt her as long as he was here to watch.

  “No, Bobby! You can’t listen to Eden right now. She’s under punishment. If you leave, she will hurt Mommy.”

  His eyes were wide, uncomprehending. “Eden won’t hurt you, Mommy.”

  “Yes she will! She tied me up, didn’t she?”

  Eden walked into the room, eyes on Bobby. “Have I ever hurt you, Bobby?”

  Kathryn scooted to keep the phone hidden but in doing so, felt it snap shut under her back. Which meant that she’d just cut the connection.

  “No you would never hurt me, Eden,” Bobby said.

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  “No.”

  “And I’m not lying now. Go to your room and wait for me.”

  “No, Bobby!” Kathryn pleaded. “Please don’t leave me! Please . . .”

  Bobby was in a state of conflict, enough to keep him fixed to the floor, which was good. The longer the better.

  But then he wasn’t fixed, because he was suddenly turning and then running from the room, whimpering.

  “Bobby!” Kathryn cried.

  Before she could cry out again, Eden stepped up to the door and slammed it shut.

  “How dare you use him!” she snapped, whirling back.

  “How dare you tie me up! How dare you try to break my finger! You don’t think God sees what you’re doing? How in heaven’s name can you possibly think you won’t pay a terrible price for this rebellious behavior?”

  “I’m only doing what you taught me to do, Mother! Isn’t that what you do to daughters that stray? Break their wills and if that doesn’t work, break their legs?”

  “I’m the mother!” she screamed, face ripe and hot. “If I don’t guide you, I will be judged, can’t you see that? God is my judge!”

  “Oh, I see,” Eden bit off, heading around the bed. “You learned this trick from God, is that it? And you’re only his instrument for torture on earth. It’s your job to hate me so that God doesn’t have to, is that it?”

  “No, no, sweetheart! I don’t hate you! I love you!”

  “Of course you do.” Her daughter’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “That’s why you’re willing to see me hurt.”

  “Only if it’s for your benefit.”

  “Because that’s what God does, right?”

  “Yes! That’s what God does!”

  “And if Zeke wanted to break my leg, you’d just stand by and let him do it!”

  She saw her opportunity and dove for it.

  “But I didn’t! I didn’t break your leg, Eden! He wanted me to, but I couldn’t.”

  “But you would let him break it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Never!”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I would never let anyone break your leg! Never! Is that what I am to you? A monster?”

  Eden glared, unimpressed.

  What would Zeke do if he heard what she’d just said? It made her glad the phone had snapped shut.

  She’s right, isn’t she, Kathryn? You’re actually more concerned with Zeke’s opinion than your own daughter’s pain.

  “No,” she said out loud.

  But Eden wasn’t interested in her ‘no’ which was just as good.

  “You lied to me about the key,” Eden said stepping up to the bed. “This time you’re going to tell me.”

  It was as far as she got because the door suddenly swung open behind Eden. They both turned at the same time. They both saw Zeke’s tall form filling the frame.

  They both went still.

  Zeke studied them with vacant eyes, took in the scene, then looked down at Eden’s bandaged leg. For a long time he just stood there, and all Kathryn could think was, He knows.

  He knows. Dear God, he knows.

  When his eyes finally settled on Kathryn they were deep and dark, like two pits that had no bottom. And then she knew as well.

  Knew what he was going to do.

  “The next time I tell you to do something, you will do it.” His voice was low and certain and had the edge of a razor to it. “That much I promise you.”

  He strode into the room, walked up to Eden, who was trembling where she stood, calmly took a fistful of her hair, and dragged her back toward the door.

  “This time I’ll do it for you.”

  Eden remained silent, jaw flexed with resolve. She shot Kathryn a glance, but there was no plea for help in her eyes—only bitter accusation.

  Zeke pulled her through the door and shut it behind them, leaving Kathryn alone to consider her own anguish.

  She knew what he was going to do. She knew it, and she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop him. She even knew it was the right thing, because he was Zeke and Zeke alwa
ys did the right thing.

  But she didn’t know how to react to the terror now sweeping through her. Or to the voice that wept for mercy in the face of punishment. Or the soft voice that suggested she was wrong.

  No. No, she couldn’t listen to those lies. Abraham hadn’t and she couldn’t afford to either.

  She heard Eden’s door slamming shut.

  Yea, though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil.

  Kathryn settled on the pillow and closed her eyes, still tied hand and foot, breathing as deliberately as she could, attempting to shut her mind down. It was the only way.

  It was… She knew this too, but it wasn’t working.

  What have I done? Dear God, what have I done?

  What happened next came in small chunks that Kathryn tried not to comprehend.

  A long period of impossible silence.

  A soft blow and a crunch.

  A bloodcurdling scream.

  Eden’s.

  The shepherd had broken the leg of the lamb who would otherwise lead them all off a cliff.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  26

  “WELL, WELL . . . Now you’re in a pickle, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  The voice belonged to Outlaw, though I couldn’t see him. It’s like we were two souls on the edge of a great dark void and we were looking down into empty space, reflecting on the tragedy that my life had become.

  I felt strangely disconnected from my body, which I couldn’t see or feel. But I could remember what had happened easily enough. So I told him.

  “Zeke broke my leg.”

  “My, my. A tear in the costume.”

  “He didn’t tear my clothes. He broke my leg.”

  “Like I said. Your costume seems to be broken. Did it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “How bad?”

  “Very bad.” Saying that, I felt a throbbing ache in my right leg, the first sensation I’d felt in some time. “It hurts right now.”

  “And how long has it hurt?”

  “I don’t know. How long have I been asleep?”

  “That’s for you to tell me. A couple days, I would guess.”

  “How could I sleep a couple days?”

  “Perhaps because you refuse to wake up and face the pain.”

  And with those words, self-pity swept in and swallowed me whole. It was too much to hold and I began to cry. I don’t think I was just dreaming that I was crying . . . I really was crying, like a little girl who’d run totally out of hope.