Ellis had cut off her hair in the fall of her senior year at Cornell. She thought it would make her look more professional. More adult. But what she’d seen when she looked at her shorn head in the salon mirror was a man. She’d been insecure about her small breasts and lack of curves since high school, and the short hair made her feel more lacking. She’d cried when she got back to her dorm. Dani had insisted she looked great, said her eyes and cheekbones were all WOW without her hair hiding them.
Maybe the haircut had changed her life, possibly brought her to this very rock in this forest, because the next day, Dani had dragged Ellis to a Halloween party to try to cheer her up. The party she’d nearly refused to attend was where she’d met Jonah.
Ellis was dressed as a cloud, a costume she’d made in a half hour by gluing pillow stuffing to a short white dress Dani was giving to Goodwill. Jonah was Zeus in toga, sandals, and beard, a costume from a rental store. Every time he was near her, he’d poke his plastic lightning bolt into her cloud billows. “I’m trying to make thunder,” he said.
“This symbolism is a bit obvious, isn’t it?” she said.
“No, explain what you mean,” he said, grinning.
The third time he poked her, she stole his lightning bolt and stuck it into the fluff on her chest. He said it looked so good on her, he’d let her keep it. He reclaimed it later that night, when they were both drunk. They talked for a while, and he kissed her.
The kiss was a surprise. She looked ridiculous in her costume, not at all sexy. She’d hidden her lack of breasts beneath the cloud, only exposed the full length of her legs—her best feature, she thought.
After two months with Jonah, when he told her he’d fallen in love with her, she started cutting her hair regularly. She wore fitted clothes that showed off her slender figure, a shape that had captured a smart, attractive law student.
But everything about her figure changed soon after. Only eight months into their relationship, her breasts swelled, and new curves emerged all over. By then, she was four months pregnant and had been married for a month. They took the oaths at a courthouse with only their best friends as witnesses. The senator and his wife had refused Jonah’s invitation.
Ellis put the comb in her backpack and climbed off the rock. She had to move to generate some heat. She climbed a bluff and looked down over the ravine. The trees were just beginning to leaf out. The chartreuse hue of early spring in the eastern forest brought to mind her Wild Wood. But she didn’t dwell there. Forever forward, she told herself.
She followed the trail back to camp but froze as she neared her tent. Her pulse skipped, then rushed with a suddenness that made her light-headed. There were two men in her camp. One was keeping watch as the other broke into her car.
The man keeping watch saw her at almost the same moment she saw him. She turned and ran, no time to contemplate if she should. She looked backward as she tore into the forest, sickened when she saw both men chasing her. Why would they chase her and not run away when she’d seen them trying to burglarize her car?
Maybe she shouldn’t have run. Maybe they thought she had something valuable in her backpack. A camera. Binoculars.
She did have binoculars, but they could have them. The backpack was slowing her down anyway. She pulled it off and let it fall behind her as she ran. She had her hunting knife on her, as always, but it was in its sheath, attached to the belt of her hiking pants. She took it out of its case and hid it in her pocket. But the sheath would give it away. She popped the snap on the case and let it fall.
Seconds later, one of the men grabbed her. His momentum knocked her facedown onto the ground, his body sprawling over hers. He moved off quickly, replacing his weight with his boot on the small of her back. The gesture said everything she feared. She was afraid she was going to vomit.
“Got her,” he said breathlessly.
“She’s fast,” the other man said, walking over.
Ellis had to stand. She appeared too vulnerable on the ground. She forced strength into her quivering body, rolled out from under the boot, and jumped to her feet. The men didn’t try to stop her.
She faced them. They were in their late twenties, both fairly big. The taller one, with a short, dark beard and brown eyes, had a beer gut. He was still breathing hard and holding her backpack. The other, the one who’d put his boot on her back, had a face prickly with a day or two of red-blond beard growth. He was fitter than the other man, and his blue-gray eyes made her stomach reel again. Something about how he looked at her. As if her capture excited him.
“Now, why were you running?” he asked, scratching his fingers in his cropped hair to feign puzzlement.
“You know why. I saw what you were doing.”
He grinned. “What was I doing?”
“Breaking into my car. Take it. Take everything. Even the car. The keys are in the backpack.”
“Take everything?” He cast a look at the other man.
She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t show her weakness. She pressed her arm against her side. The knife was still in her pocket.
“Let’s just go our own ways, okay?” she said. “I have no phone on me. I can’t call the police.” She half turned to walk away. “I’ll go. Take the car.”
The strawberry blond grabbed her arm.
She shrugged him off. Again, only because he allowed it. “Come on. Just let me go,” she said.
“I can’t let a woman go off alone into the woods,” he said. “That wouldn’t be right. You should know it’s not safe to be in a place like this all alone.”
It was worse than she thought. She forced a show of confidence through her dizzying terror.
“I’m not alone,” she said. “I’m a biologist doing research here, and some of my colleagues are meeting me soon. You should go before they arrive.”
“Uh-oh, her colleagues are coming,” he said to his friend.
The bearded man grinned.
“I think you’re lying to me,” the blond told Ellis. “Why would a biologist be sleeping all alone in the cold woods?”
“Biologists who study forest species sleep in the woods in all seasons.”
“What species do you study?”
“Hickory trees,” she said, because there was one just behind him.
“What about them do you study?”
She tried to give him a look that didn’t betray the quaking mess she was inside. “I’ve had enough of this,” she said as boldly as she could. She moved to walk around him, but he blocked her with his body.
“I said I wanted to hear more about the hickory trees,” he said. “Biology always was my favorite subject.”
His friend snickered, and when the blond looked at him and grinned, Ellis slid her hand into her pocket. She felt the handle of the knife.
The blond rubbed his hand down the front of his jeans. “I got a damn hickory tree down here just looking at you, girl. You’re the prettiest biologist I ever saw.”
He slanted his eyes at his grinning friend. Ellis could tell a signal had passed between them. She gripped the knife handle. She had to stay calm, be smart, but her brain was a frenetic rush of adrenaline screaming for her to run.
“How about we take a moment to study a few trees?” the red-blond said.
The men lunged at her. Ellis thrust the knife at the blond’s chest. He ducked and grabbed her arm. She punched him with her other arm and kicked at his groin. The bearded man jerked her away from the blond by her left arm. Something cracked in her wrist, but she felt no pain. She screamed and kicked and fought wildly.
But it ended as it always did. As it had for thousands of years. They had her trapped on the ground. The blond straddled her legs. The bearded man had her arms pinned over her head. Blood seeped fast out of one of her nostrils. Her lips tasted salty, were already swelling, and her right cheek throbbed.
The blond held up her antler-handle knife, making a show of studying it. “This is a nice hunting knife. An old one.” He looked into her eyes. “Do
you know how to use this? Do you hunt?”
She looked away from his face.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he said. “You shouldn’t be playing around with weapons you don’t know how to use.” After a long pause, he said, “How about I give you a lesson?”
She closed her eyes. She wouldn’t watch. She couldn’t.
“I know all about what’s inside bodies. Deer, possums, people. I know where you can put a knife so it hurts bad but doesn’t kill. I don’t want you dead when we do this. But you have to pay for the stupidity of pulling a knife on a man who knows how to use it.”
He pushed up her shirt, baring her stomach, and jerked down the waist of her pants. He swirled the knife point on her left side.
She squeezed her eyes tight. She thought she’d die of fear. Was it possible? She wanted to. Or at least lose consciousness.
“Right here,” he said. “I can poke it here and miss all the vitals. It will only hurt. I promise. You won’t die.”
“Hey,” the bearded man said, “you’re not really going to—”
The blade stabbed into her. Hot. It felt hot. She screamed.
“Jesus Christ!” the bearded man said.
The blond laughed. “Don’t barf. At least not on her. I don’t want to deal with that when I’m on her.”
Ellis heard them, but their words didn’t register. She felt like she was in a dark room. A little room that had no air. Pain replaced the air, and she couldn’t breathe pain. She was dying. He’d said she wouldn’t die, but she had to be dying.
“Let her go,” the blond said.
She felt the weight of both men lift from her. Her hands now free, she instinctively reached for the knife handle protruding from her abdomen.
The blond grabbed her hands. “No, it stays. If you try to take it out, I’ll find a new spot for it. Just stay still and it won’t hurt as much.”
He was right. It didn’t hurt as much when she didn’t move.
But he was taking off her boots. And her pants.
He wasn’t going to do that.
He will not. Through the pain, her mind suddenly became clear. This time she had to plan better. She would have one chance. Just one. She had to do it at the perfect moment.
“You all right down there?” he asked. He was standing over her, unbuckling his belt.
She sobbed. She had to make him think she’d given up. But she was watching his every move, getting ready.
His pants were open, pulled partway down. He was going to leave them on while he did it. That might be better. Tie up his legs.
“Stay still so I don’t knock the blade handle,” he warned.
She readied herself. One chance. Just one. She whimpered like a wounded puppy, but inside she calculated how to rip out his throat.
She was right. Leaving his pants on had been a mistake. He had to put his full weight on his hands to balance. Ellis ripped the knife out and jerked it upward into his chest. Or his belly. She had no idea where it went, but she’d shoved as hard as she could, and she was strong from climbing mountains and hauling water. The knife sank deep.
She hardly heard his screams, she was so desperate to get out from under him. She shoved him, and he fell over on his side, staring wide eyed at the knife sticking out of the right side of his stomach. Her knife. The hunting knife had been passed from her great-grandfather to her grandfather to her.
Ellis stumbled to her feet and yanked the knife out of him. He wailed.
“I know how to use a hunting knife!” she screamed. “I know how to use it!”
The bearded man threw his fist into her face. Then another. Her left cheek and her right eye exploded. She saw red like splattering blood and white sparks and fell to the ground.
The blond was gasping, blood oozing down his belly. “Dean, help me!” he cried. “Get me in the truck!”
Ellis got up and ran. Into the trees. Deeper and deeper.
She didn’t stop until she hit a log. She fell over it and lay in the dead leaves, breathing hard. Just breathing.
The birds told her when to get up. They were twittering above her. Titmice and chickadees. They knew the sudden violence of predators in the forest. But when the threat was gone, they could fly again.
She risked stirring the leaves. When she stood, she felt her injuries. Sharp pain in her left side. Her left wrist sprained, possibly broken. Her eye already swelling closed. Her cheeks, nose, and mouth were throbbing and caked with blood. Her bare legs and feet were cold and torn up from running through branches and thorns.
She realized what was in her right hand. The bloody knife. She gripped it in case they were still there.
It took a minute to get her bearings. She had run down the hill. Now she had to go back up. It was tough. More difficult than when she’d climbed her first mountain. But she did it. Step by step.
When she got to the top, she stood quietly, knife in hand, listening for the men. She thought she saw the campground in the distance, a break in the trees. When she arrived at the campsites, the truck that had pulled in the night before was gone. She backtracked until she found her pack, boots, and pants. The sheath to her knife.
She dressed and walked to her camp, her hand pressed on the oozing cut in her side. She had to stop the bleeding. She pulled her medical supply box out of the back of the SUV and poured alcohol over the cut. Stifled a scream. When her skin dried, she smeared the gash with antibiotic cream, pressed on gauze pads, and taped it with duct tape. To be sure it held, she wrapped a strip of tape completely around her waist, then washed three ibuprofen tablets down with water.
Ellis sat on the ground, eyes closed, waiting for the medication to take effect. She tried to think what to do. She didn’t have health insurance. But if anyone found out about the knife wound, they would make her go to a hospital. The doctors would ask questions. She’d stabbed a man, possibly killed him. The police would get involved. Her history dug up. They’d link her to Jonah and Senator Bauhammer. The boys would find out.
It would be like the day Viola was abducted all over again.
And, of course, the doctors would give her pain medication. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t risk her sobriety. But they would make her. Maybe even knock her out with an IV to fix the cut. And when she woke, Jonah would be standing in her hospital room. His eyes would have that same look. Like a mirror reflecting what he saw. A bad mother. A screwup. Trailer trash.
She didn’t have to go to a hospital. The man who’d stabbed her said he knew the right place. He’d said she wouldn’t die. If she kept the cut clean, it would heal.
She’d have to hope her wrist was sprained, not broken. She could move it a little. It would be okay. Everything would be okay. She needed only a safe place to rest for a few days. Not a campground. She’d go to a motel, where she could take a shower and sleep in a bed.
When the ibuprofen blunted the pain, she packed camp. But bending and lifting made her feel like her insides were coming out. She had to move slowly and carefully. Once the tent was down, she used water and rags to wash the blood and dirt off her face. She zipped her coat over her bloody shirt and pants.
She got in the car and started the motor.
Gep was smiling on the dashboard. Everything would be okay.
2
She couldn’t stop seeing the dead deer.
Zane, and another chef everyone called Rocky, had brought it over to show her mother when Ellis was eight. Zane had never been hunting before, and Rocky wasn’t the best with a gun either. That was how the deer had gotten gut shot, as Zane said.
While the men and Ellis’s mother joked about what a mess they’d made of killing the deer, Ellis had stared at the dead animal slumped in the back of Rocky’s pickup. The buck with big antlers was one of the most beautiful things Ellis had ever seen. She’d glimpsed deer in the Wild Wood but never up close like that. The stag’s eyes were open, his tongue hanging out. Ellis remembered the bloody hole in the side of his belly. She had wanted to cry, thinking
how bad that would hurt, but she knew her mother would tease her if she did. She kept quiet and cried inside.
Ellis held the stab wound in her side and staggered out of bed. She barely made it to the bathroom in time. After she emptied her stomach, she lay on the floor next to the toilet. The cold tile felt good on her feverish skin.
She shouldn’t have thought of the gut-shot deer. That was what made her vomit. But the fever delirium was making her see and think all kinds of things she didn’t want to.
She awoke on the tile, quaking with chills, and managed to drag herself up. She put a trash can next to the bed so she wouldn’t have to run to the bathroom the next time. She took more ibuprofen, drank more water. Fell into restless sleep.
She woke on fire. Why wasn’t the fever reducer keeping her temperature down? Maybe the fever had to do with her wrist. It was swollen to double its normal size and throbbed right through the large dose of ibuprofen. The stab wound hurt even worse. She pulled back the covers and lifted her T-shirt. She peeled back the duct tape and gauze. The wound was purple and rimmed in red. It looked bad.
She needed help. Someone she trusted.
She got out of bed, walked with teetering steps to her car parked in front of her motel room door. Just seeing Gep’s happy face made her feel better. She ripped him off the tape sticking him to her car dashboard, got herself back to the motel room, and cuddled him under the covers. “Do you think I should call Keith?” she asked him.
She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was smiling.
Gep was right. Keith would help her. He’d bring her antibiotics.
She took her phone off the bed stand and opened the messages. There was one conversation from two winters ago. First the directions to Pink Horses, then four one-sided texts:
December 28: How’s it going? I hope you got out of the Midwest before that big storm. Let me know how you are. (This is Keith BTW)
January 10: Where are you? Seeing great stuff?
The Light Through the Leaves Page 15
