by Amy Cross
“Do you see anything?” Ramsey asks, her voice filled with fear.
“No,” I stammer. “Do you?”
“No, but dogs don't lie.”
Keanu's continued barking almost drowns out her answer, but we both continue to stare out at the pitch black yard. A moment later, the dog's bark changes and becomes a kind of low growl, and then suddenly he lunges forward and changes his stance, snarling louder than ever, as if something is coming closer.
“Do we run?” I gasp, still staring into the dark void.
“Wait,” Ramsey whispers.
“For what?” I hiss. “He's obviously seen something!”
“I know, but wait!”
The stupid dog continues to bark for a moment, and then suddenly Ramsey grabs my arm and hauls me up. I get to my feet and follow her around the side of the drums, and then we pick our way through some weeds that fill the space between the tractor and the barn. The ground is muddy here and a little boggy, and hard to get through. We've lost Keanu's lead and he's still back over at the metal drums, still snarling at something, but after a moment Ramsey stops with her back against the barn, and I stop next to her.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“I saw something.”
“What?”
“There was someone back there. In the dark. Just before we got up and moved. I think the guy was watching us.”
“Why would he be watching us?”
“I don't know, but hopefully the dog's distracting him right now. Let's just go!”
“But what about -”
Before I can finish, she grabs my arm again and leads me through another patch of weeds, and then we head around the corner of the barn. Some kind of rusty old farm machine looms high above us, silhouetted against the night sky, but we skip around its edge and then we hurry across a gravel road before stumbling down a shallow muddy hill and over to a second, smaller barn. Finally the vast field spreads out before us, although I've lost track of which way is which. Ramsey seems to have an idea, however, and she doesn't say a word as she leads me along the barn's shorter edge and over to the next corner, at which point she stops and peers around to check that the coast is clear.
Keanu is barking again, somewhere far behind us.
“Are you up for running?” Ramsey asks.
“My legs kinda ache.”
“We're still gonna have to run.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Over to those trees. See?” She points into the darkness, but I think I can just about make out the silhouettes of tree-tops against the starry sky. “Stay close, keep going and don't stop until we get there. Even if your legs start aching even more. The guy probably isn't dangerous, but I don't wanna take any risks and I definitely don't want him calling the cops. The dog'll be fine, but let's just get out of here, okay?”
“Okay.”
“On three. One. Two.”
Suddenly something bursts through the darkness next to me. I let out a shocked gasp, but I quickly see that it's Keanu, and we both watch as the dog bolts out across the field, running faster than I ever thought a dog could run.
“Well, that's comforting,” Ramsey stammers. “Three. Move!”
She lunges forward, still holding my hand tight. I stumble after her and we start running out across the dark field. The ground beneath our feet is so rough and uneven, I almost trip several times, and every hurried step sends a shudder up my legs, shaking my knees. I can hear Ramsey's pounding steps, too, as we run fast across the dried mud, and I think I can even hear her panicked breath above my own. She yells something at me, something I can't make out, but my heart is thudding and all I can focus on is the darkness ahead and the silhouette of dark trees against the starry sky. The treeline is already closer, but not nearly close enough, and I feel as if we'll never get there.
Somewhere in the distance, up ahead, the dog barks again.
“Keep going!” Ramsey shouts, her voice juddering with each impact of her feet against the ground. She's still holding my hand tight, as if she's scared to let go.
Suddenly bright lights blast over our shoulders, casting our hand-linked shadows across the ground. We keep running, but now I can see our shadows swinging ahead and a moment later I hear what sounds like the roar of an engine. Turning, I see to my horror that the light is coming from a truck, with the vehicle already racing up behind us.
“Ramsey!” I yell.
“I know!” she shouts back. “Get to the trees!”
“But if -”
Before I can finish, my left foot trails and hits a heavy mud ridge. I fall forward, losing my grip on Ramsey's hand and slamming hard against the ground. Sheer momentum sends me rolling over more ridges, and I scramble to my feet and turn just in time to see that the truck is gaining fast.
“Come on!” Ramsey shouts, grabbing my arm.
Realizing she stopped and came back for me, I stumble after her and we start running again. My ankle is agony, but adrenaline keeps me going even as I see that the lights seem to be swinging wildly all around us. A moment later, the truck roars and rattles past on my left, racing ahead of us and then swerving violently to block our way.
Ramsey tugs my hand and pulls me to the right, and we set off toward a different section of the treeline. For a moment, the light of the truck is far away, but I hear the engine surging and then – just a fraction of a second later – the headlights start roaring up behind us again as the truck starts to make ground.
“We can't outrun him!” I scream.
“We have to!” Ramsey yells.
Somewhere nearby, that goddamn dog is still barking.
Ramsey turns and looks behind us, and for a moment I see her eyes widen with horror before she twists around and drags me with her. We both fall, and Ramsey pulls me closer just as the truck roars past a few feet away. The ground shudders as the huge tires narrowly miss us, and I look up in horror, just in time to see the faintest hint of a silhouette in the driver's cab. Before I can get a good look at the driver, however, the truck swerves around as if it's going to come back at us, and Ramsey is already on her feet, trying to pull me up.
“We have to get to the trees!” she shouts breathlessly. “This guy's a goddamn maniac!”
We start running toward the trees, but the truck's headlights are already swinging wildly behind us and I can feel the ground rumbling.
“He's too close!” I shout.
“You wanna stop and wait for him?”
“No, but -”
My foot catches against the mud, and once again I lose my grip on Ramsey's hand and fall to the ground. I land hard and feel an instant pain in my ribs, and as I start getting up I realize I've winded myself. Ramsey is a few feet ahead, but she stops and turns back, reaching out toward me.
“Come on!” she shouts, as the truck rumbles toward us. “We can't -”
Suddenly she drops down through the ground and falls from view, letting out a brief scream that ends as abruptly as it begin.
“Ramsey!” I yell, scrambling forward on all fours before getting to my feet and hurrying over to the edge of a large sinkhole that's still in the process of collapsing. I look down into the center of the hole, but all I see is darkness far below, with several sets of thick, gnarly roots still shaking as more soil drops down.
“Ramsey!” I scream, before I feel the ground starting to crumble beneath my feet.
Panicking, I jump around the edge of the hole and hurry forward, before stopping to look back down.
“Ramsey!” I shout, louder than I ever thought possible. I even cup my hands around my mouth, trying to make it easier for her to hear me. “Are you okay? Are -”
Suddenly I hear an ear-piercing squealing sound, and I turn to see that the truck is screeching to a halt just a few feet from the edge of the sinkhole. I hold my hands up, to protect my eyes from the bright lights, and a moment later I'm just about able to make out the sight of the driver's-side door opening. A figure steps out, tall and broad, and for a fe
w seconds he seems utterly absorbed by the sight of the sinkhole.
“She's hurt!” I shout, with tears in my eyes. “She fell down!”
The figure doesn't respond, not at first. Instead he simply stares into the sinkhole, before finally turning and climbing back up into the cab of his truck.
“You have to call someone!” I yell, before looking back down into the hole. “Ramsey, hold on! I'm gonna get help! Can you hear me?”
I wait, but there's no sound coming up from the darkness. She has to be okay, she just has to be. Ramsey's always okay.
A moment later, I hear the truck reversing, and I turn to see it bumping to a halt nearby. There's the sound of the gears struggling slightly, and then the vehicle turns and starts driving around the side of the sinkhole. For a fraction of a second, I start to wonder whether this was all a terrible mistake and the guy is going to fetch help, but once he's around the sinkhole he aims and floors the throttle, sending the vehicle screeching past the hole in the ground and bumping straight toward me.
Startled, I stare at the approaching lights for a moment before jumping out of the way. The truck misses me by inches and I land hard against the ground.
“Stop!” I gasp breathlessly, but the truck is already turning to come at me again.
I look down into the hole that swallowed Ramsey.
“I'm gonna get help!” I scream, hoping against hope that she can hear me. “Stay out of his way and I'll fetch someone! I don't want to leave you, I promise, but I can't do anything without help! Hold on!”
With that, I turn and race toward the trees, even as the truck's headlights swing toward me. I speed up, running so fast that I think my legs might be about to fall off, but at least this time I don't trip. Instead, somehow, I finally manage to get the treeline, and I race between two huge, sturdy oaks. Stumbling a little further into the dark forest, I finally dare to stop and look back, just in time to see that the truck has now turned sideways on, and I swear it seems to be waiting to see which way I go next. The lights are beaming out into the forest, casting the shadows of hundreds of trees toward me.
I have to get help. I have to keep running and I have to bring the police back here before that asshole has a chance to hurt Ramsey.
Turning, I start hurrying through the forest. At least out here, he can't follow me in his truck. I'm exhausted and in pain, but I can't stop now. I have to save Ramsey.
Ten
Sheriff James Kopperud
Look at them. Pathetic. Wasting away. Dying in public. I can see the pain on their faces as they each sit silently in the treatment room, each hooked up to a set of chemicals.
That'll be me soon. I can try to tell myself that I'll be stronger, that I'll somehow withstand the treatment and come out smiling the other end. But deep down, I know I'll end up like the rest.
Sitting in a hospital gown, painfully thin, waiting for the end to finally come while my mind marinades in a toxic cocktail. This is how I'm going to die.
***
“One moment,” Emma says as soon as she picks up the phone on the other end of the line. She sounds distracted, as if she's in the middle of a conversation with someone. “Hello? Emma Cooper speaking.”
I open my mouth to say something, to let her hear my voice, but then I hesitate as a cleaner makes his way past me. I guess the hospital corridor wasn't the best place to make this call, but I'm waiting for a new room so I don't really have much of a choice. Before I can think of how to open the conversation with Emma, however, I hear the sound of a little kid in the background. Sounds like she and her new husband, that Dan guy, have started a family of their own.
“Hello?” she says again. “Is anyone there?”
She sounds happy. Carefree. As soon as she knows it's me on the line, she'll become defensive.
“Is anyone there?” she asks. “Hello?”
“It's me,” I stammer, with the cleaner now far enough away to not hear me. “It's, uh... It's James.”
I wait, but there's no reply. She hasn't hung up, at least. That's an improvement over last time.
“Um, I just called,” I continue, “to, uh... I wanted to make sure you got this month's check okay.”
Again, silence.
“You see, um, I used a different type of pen to write the address just before I mailed it off, and then I worried that maybe the letters got smudged or something like that, and then if the address was smudged, you might not get it at all. You know how it is, right? With ink and, uh, stuff like that, and envelopes. You can never be too careful. So I was worried that -”
“I got it.”
I swallow hard.
“Okay, then,” I reply. “That's great. You got the check and -”
“Will it clear this time?”
“Of course it'll clear.”
“Not like the last one?”
“I told you what happened,” I continue, feeling a flicker of irritation that she's bringing that up again. “I just forgot to leave enough in that particular account and -”
“Spent it all on beer and whiskey, did you?”
I swallow hard. This isn't the time for an argument, and besides, she's right. Not that I'd ever admit it and give her the satisfaction.
“Why did you really call?” she asks, sounding exhausted.
Ramsey. I really called because I want to speak to Ramsey. At the same time, I can't just say it like that. She probably won't let me, anyway. She'll make up some excuse.
“Why did you really call, James?” she continues, and I can hear the anger simmering in her voice. “I have a million things to do right now. This is a really bad time, so just come out with it.”
“Well, you sound happy to hear my voice,” I mutter, forcing a smile.
“What do you want?”
“How's Ramsey doing?”
“What?”
“My daughter? How is she?”
I wait, and again I hear the sound of a little kid in the background.
“Is that your new one?” I ask. “Does Ramsey have a half-brother or half-sister now? I bet she loves being a big -”
“Ramsey's being Ramsey,” she says firmly. “She's not here right now.”
“Out doing teenager things, huh?”
“Something like that. I don't particularly want to talk about her, though. If we're done with this conversation, it's late and I'd like to get back to what I was doing before you interrupted. Maybe you should get some sleep, instead of staying up drinking and calling people.”
“I haven't drunk a drop.”
“That's hard to believe,” she replies, before adding something under her breath.
“So are you doing okay?” I ask. “I can send some more money this month, if you need it. I promise I'll get better organized so there's no risk of the check being returned. How are -”
“Go to hell, James,” she adds, interrupting me. “Just go to hell and don't even call again, okay? And don't even bother sending the checks, because we don't need them. We're not sitting here, desperately relying on your money so we can eat. Ramsey's eighteen now and I have Dan, and he has a really good job. So just add it to your booze fund, okay? Goodbye.”
“Well, if -”
Before I can finish, she puts the phone down, leaving me standing alone in the corridor. I immediately tap to call her again, but then I realize there's no point. To be completely honest, that call actually went pretty much exactly as I expected, maybe even a little better. I mean, she didn't curse and shout at me, which is a slight improvement, and at least I managed to get a word or two out of her regarding Ramsey.
Ramsey's being Ramsey.
I can't help smiling. Whatever those three words mean, I'm sure it's something wonderful. And I bet she's the most amazing big sister any kid could ever want.
“Mr. Kopperud?”
Turning, I see a nurse leaning out from one of the rooms. She's smiling, trying to be friendly, and I hate her for that. I hate all the bullshit in this hospital.
“Your
room's ready now,” she tells me. “Do you want to come and get settled?”
This morning I was still Sheriff James Kopperud, I was still important and I was still struggling along without any help, and now things have changed so goddamn fast. I'm a patient, I'm a sick man, and I'm sure early tomorrow everyone at the station will learn that I'm taking a leave of absence. I'll have to call in and talk to Katie, and then I'll have to speak to Hinch or someone else in the office and tell them that I'm at the hospital. Then it'll all be official, and there'll be no turning back. It won't take long for them to learn the rest.
“Easy,” the nurse says with a smile, taking my arm to help me into the room. She's talking to me like I'm a sick old man. I'm only forty-six years old, damn it, even if the pain is too much and I can barely walk properly. “There's no need to hurry. Let's just take our time, okay?”
“I'm fine,” I mutter, but that's a lie. I have to hold onto her as she leads me slowly through the doorway. “I don't suppose there's any chance of a drink, is there? A beer, maybe?”
“Sorry. Not when you're starting chemo in the morning.”
I can't help smiling bitterly. I guess I'm just exchanging one type of poison for another.
Eleven
Leanne Halperin
Tripping suddenly against a tree root in the darkness, I tumble forward and slam into the cold, muddy ground. I let out a faint cry as I land, but then I roll onto my side and wait, listening to make sure there's no sign of that asshole following me. A moment later, I turn and look back the way I just came, but all I see is darkness. No lights from a truck, or from a flashlight. Just the faintest view of tall, dark trees rising up toward the starry sky.
I think I lost him.
Hauling myself up, I turn and start limping forward, reaching out to steady myself against the trees. Apart from the stars above, I can honestly barely see a goddamn thing out here, and I'm starting to worry that I might be going round and round in circles. I keep looking up at the stars, trying to use them to guide my way, but I've never really paid any attention to the constellations and I wouldn't know the North Star if it came up and bit me on the butt. The forest seems like it goes on forever, and I'm scared that maybe I'll suddenly find myself back at the farm again, or that I'll just keep walking in circles until I eventually I collapse.
