Devil Creek

by Bond, Casey L.

  †

  “Parker, check my phone,” he barks again.

  “Dude, I checked it like five minutes ago. She hasn’t called or texted. You’d have heard the alert. Just chill. She’s probably hanging with her friends before they take off.” Parker sinks into the soft brown leather couch across from his cousin and stares at Gabriel, whose eyes are still enshrouded.

  “Take me over there, please. I just need to check on her. Psycho is out there and I just want to make sure.”

  Gabe had never been one to beg for anything. But, even Parker could see that he cared for the girl. In fact, he loved her. It was obvious to absolutely everyone, but Gabriel.

  “Fine.” Parker stands and walks over to the wooden buffet near the door and retrieves his wallet, keys, and cell, before sliding his sunglasses on.

  Amy opens the front door and laughs at the sight of Parker behind shades and Gabriel standing behind him, head mummy-wrapped. “Well, if this isn’t the perfect example of the blind leading the blind!” She giggles and hangs her purse on a hook beside the door and slides her tiny feet from her brown leather ankle boots.

  Parker smacks her loudly on the derriere sending Amy running for cover, squealing as she flees. “Let that be a lesson to you, woman. Laugh at me again!” Her tinkling laughter fades as she continues into the house bringing a smile to Parker and Gabe’s faces. Gabe shakes his head, still chuckling as Parker leads him out the doorway, down the sidewalk and into the passenger seat.

  Parker pulls his Jeep into Aislin’s driveway, which holds only one vehicle: a white Honda CR-V. The front door is open, only the glass storm door a barrier to the outside. As the two men exit the vehicle and Parker begins to guide Gabe toward the front porch, the sound of music from inside the house can be heard. Gabe laughs. “Damn I-pod. She must be cleaning.”

  Parker laughs in return. “Told you. She’s fine. Though, her friends seem to have left. Only her Honda is out here.”

  Gabe flinches and stops dead in his tracks. “They left here alone? You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  Parker reassures his cousin and guides him to the front door where he knocks loudly and the two wait. No answer. Parker knocks again, louder this time. Even over her music she should be able to hear him with how he pounds on the door.

  Gabriel removes his cell from his pocket and Parker tries again to call her before the two decide to barge in. The door pushes right open. When they open the door, they can hear something. They can hear someone. It’s Mac. She is half-groaning, half-screaming. Gabriel’s hand is torn from Parker’s arm as he takes off running, leaving Gabe standing near the door. He frantically tries to feel around for something to guide him.

  Gabe hears Parker’s footsteps pound down the hallway. He hears Parker yell. “You mother fucker! Get off of her!” The voice that answers him sends him into a fit of rage. Stone. Gabe knocks over the barstools as he tries to make his way down the hallway. Parker and Stone wrestle, thumps sounding just beyond his reach. “Gabe,” Parker yells. “Mac. She’s on the floor. She’s hurt really bad.”

  Gabe hears a final loud crack and thump and then Parker say, “I’m putting the bastard in here until the cops come and get him.” He hears Parker shuffling through dresser drawers and Jeremiah’s moans from inside the room. He feels his way down the walls of the hallway, taking small steps. He knows she’s down there. He doesn’t want to hurt her or step on her. How bad is she hurt? I’ll kill him. I will kill Stone myself.

  Gabe’s foot meets something limp. “Park,” his voice breaks. “I found her. But, I can’t see her. I can’t fucking see her!” Gabe eases to his knees and realizes that he can’t do this without eyes. He yanks at the gauze surrounding his head and then peels it off of his eyes. He blinks rapidly.

  “Whoa. What the hell are you doing, Gabe. You aren’t supposed to take this off until you see the doc again!” Parker yells, crouching to the floor beside him. He hears Parker. “I’ve got 911 on the line. “Yes. We need an ambulance and the police. It’s an emergency.” Parker gives the dispatcher the address and stays on the line feeding her information on Aislin’s vitals. She isn’t doing well.

  Gabe blinks rapidly, trying to will moisture into his eyes. Though the image is blurry, he can see a human figure lying prone on the floor in front of him. He blinks again, slower this time. He can see color and shape, though blurred. His vision isn’t gone. It is far from perfect. But, he isn’t blind. He continues to blink. He can see the crimson of the blood on her chest. He can see that she is mostly naked. Gabe can tell she is hurt badly. One thing is for sure, he will make sure that Stone regrets ever looking in Mac’s direction.

  “Park, how bad is she? I can barely see her.”

  Parker ignores him and then stills. “Wait. You can see?” A slow smile spreads on Parker’s face.

  “Sort of. It’s not clear...at all. I’ll probably need glasses.”

  Parker claps him on the back. “Who cares? At least you aren’t blind!” Aislin’s front door bursts open. Officers enter, guns drawn and order Parker and Gabriel to raise their hands to the sky.

  Chapter 14

  Declan sits on the small weathered wooden pier that juts ten feet into the clear blue pond. His toes graze the water’s surface, making ripples that delicately fan out across the glassy surface. Billowy white clouds reflect from the sky above. He pats the board beside him and Aislin sits down, takes her sandals off and dips her toes into the water as well. It is pleasantly cool. She sighs, leaning back onto her palms behind her. Declan’s dark auburn hair hangs almost into his eyes and he smiles at her and says, “What’s up?”

  She smiles back. “I miss you, Dec.”

  He laughs heartily. She can hear the echo of his laughter all around them. “I’m with you, Mac. You might not see me, but I’m here. I’m always with you.” He looks off across the pond.

  “It’s going to be hard, ya know,” he said, looking back at her. He kicks his toe forward, making a little splash in the water

  “What is?” She looks at her brother, trying to soak in the way he looks right now. It’s been so long since she’s seen his face. He smells the same. Spicy and just like Dec’s shirts had smelled for so long before the scent had faded and then disappeared. Just like he had.

  “You have to go back. But, I’ll be with you. Always remember that, Mac.”

  He pushes himself up and walks back toward land, pausing at the edge of the pier to look back at her.

  “You’ll never be alone.”

  She stands, frantic and tries to run after him. “Wait! Declan! Don’t leave me. Please. Don’t go. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go anywhere. I miss you so much. Why can’t I stay here with you?”

  “I have to go, Mac. But, remember what I said, okay?” His brows raise together. He begins to fade in front of her eyes.

  “Yes. You’ll be with me? I’m not going to be alone?”

  He grins and walks away. “Wait! Why do I feel so alone, then, Dec?”

  He stops and shrugs his shoulder. “You always have felt alone. But, I’ve always been with you. When we were kids. When I adopted you. Even now. Even in death, I’m always close by.” He points at her, “Don’t forget that! Love you, Mac.”

  He turned and walked and slowly, his image faded away completely, leaving Aislin reaching out for her brother.

  Darkness, sweet and calm floats over her once more. She can hear beeping. It’s a really persistent, annoying sound, but one that again lulls her into a deep sleep. Jeremiah kneels sweetly in front of her. He holds her left hand in his and slides an enormous diamond solitaire onto her finger. Aislin marvels at his beauty. His face could easily grace the cover of magazines. Anyone looking in from the outside would swoon at the sweet gesture and imagine him a romantic gentleman, anything but the monster he actually is. Evil encased in beauty.

  “I love you, Aislin. You are mine. You were made for me and only me. I understand how you were confused about Gabriel. He was there for you after your bro
ther died. You worried about him being deployed and killed like Declan.”

  The words sting deeply. Aislin winces. Could he be telling the truth? Did she simply cling to Gabe because Declan had died? Only because she didn’t want to lose him, too? They say there is an ounce of truth in every lie.

  †

  Aislin’s been in the hospital for 26 hours. Gabe scrubs his hand down his face as he pulls Parker’s Jeep onto the highway, away from the hospital. Away from Mac.

  Parker had been able to call in a favor from a friend, a local ophthalmologist-- an emergency appointment for Gabriel. After a thorough physical and visual correction examination, Dr. James Thomas had written an ophthalmologic prescription for Gabriel, so that he could obtain corrective lenses as quickly as possible. He was insistent that Gabriel see his regular eye doctor in Huntington or even the consulting surgeons at Walter Reed in D.C. as soon as the appointments could be arranged, though he could see nothing that would indicate that his eyes were permanently damaged.

  Amy had rushed to the local one hour eyeglass store and picked out a pair of solid black frames, which were made with lenses in Gabriel’s prescription. Long story short, within twenty-four hours of removing his bandages by himself in Aislin’s hallway, Gabe Church could see. Though not crazy about his new spectacles, he is thrilled with the fact that he no longer needs to depend on anyone to text, call, or help him do anything or get anywhere. He can see and now. He can hunt down that scum-of-the-earth Stone and make him pay for hurting Mac. Make him wish he had never been born. And he would. As soon as he can figure out where the he hiding. He had posted bail without any problem, despite the arguments about his being a flight risk and having enough money to purchase the entire State of West Virginia.

  Chapter 15

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Squeeze. Aislin can feel the cuff around her forearm tightening. She had been poked, prodded, scanned and examined. Lights had been shined in her eyes. Memories of a calm, but urgent voice float to the forefront of her mind. “Follow the light with your eyes, Ma’am. Come on. Stay with us.”

  She tries to sit up, wincing from the lightning shooting through her ribs. Her face and neck hurt. Her entire body hurts. Damn him. He nearly killed me. Aislin knows that to be the truth. He had nearly killed her. She’d seen Declan. Sat next to him. It had been more than just a dream. It had been real. She remembered smelling him. Irish Spring soap and spice. She could smell the fresh smell of cut grass and the crisp smell of dry, fallen leaves. She remembered the cool water on her toes. The empty feeling in her chest when he disappeared again. When he left her there and told her to go back.

  She maneuvers to the edge of the bed and reaches for the bedside table where a Pepto-Bismol-pink plastic tub of toiletries sit, shrink-wrapped in plastic. She pulls out a pair of white socks with grippy plastic writing on the bottom, a toothbrush, small tube of toothpaste, an ugly pink comb. Finally, pay dirt. Aislin pulls out a small mirror. A large laceration on her upper lip had been expertly stitched by a resident at the Williamson Memorial Hospital. The threads are nearly imperceptible and she imagines it will heal well. Her cheeks are swollen and angrily bruised. Different shades of red, purple, yellow and black stare back at her. Aislin’s left eye is swollen and red, too. Even the blood vessels in her eyeball have ruptured, staining the white of her eye red. Creepy.

  Finger-shaped bruises circle her neck like heavy chains. She can feel the tight bandages underneath the pattern of her blue and white hospital gown and peeks inside. Her chest and ribs had been x-rayed and then bandaged in a most mummy-like fashion. Yep. Broken damn ribs. An hour ago, she’d given the older man, who had said he was with the Mingo County Sheriff’s department, her statement of what had happened at her house.

  Deputy Martin Brewer had told her that Jeremiah had posted bail without a problem and hadn’t been seen since. He assured her that his deputies were keeping tabs on him, but this didn’t make her feel safe at all. She wasn’t even safe in her own house from the psychopath. She had nodded her head and stared blankly at the nurse’s dry erase board in front of her. Her nurse on shift was Chelsea, and unfortunately, this nurse appeared to be a very bubbly person, as evidenced by the enormous, and very intricate happy face drawn on the board’s notes section. Just perfect. Bubbly, happy Chelsea.

  Aislin pushes herself back and lies down again. She grabs the bed remote and pushes the nurse button.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m hurting. Really. Bad,” she grunts into the small device.

  “I’ll send your nurse in.”

  “Thanks.” Aislin can barely breathe. She isn’t sure if her ribs are cracked or if they have collapsed. Her lungs feel like they can’t find air. Can’t expand and provide her with life-giving oxygen. She feels like she is underwater, taking in gulps full of water instead of air. She feels as if she will drown.

  A few moments later, a tiny woman pops her head in. “Your assigned nurse is on her lunch break, so I’ll be taking care of you. You’re in pain?”

  Aislin nods her head. Unable to form words. Or even expel them from her mouth. The physical pain is horrendous, but the emotional pain she is experiencing is more than she can bear. The nurse scans a syringe and waits for something to pop up on the hand-held computer. She lays it aside and then pushes the medicine into Aislin’s IV port. “They don’t want you to swallow pills yet, sweetie. Between your neck and the swelling on your face, they think this way is best. Now, this will make you very sleepy, so...-”

  Everything fades to black.

  †

  The next morning, Aislin is awakened by the sound of her curtain being drawn back. A young woman pops her head in and smiles giddily at Aislin, who inwardly cringes, but manages to somehow paste a small smile on her face in return. The midnight black hair of the woman’s high pony tail swishes as she bounces over to the blood pressure machines and IV drip, checking both quickly. Bright cerulean scrubs stretch over her ample bosom and hips. The woman, whose eyes are lined with black liquid liner curled beyond the natural lash line in a feline-like swoop, pauses, locks her milk-chocolate eyes on Aislin and thrusts her hand forward in anticipation.

  Aislin shakes her hand. “Hi! I’m Chelsea! I’ll be your nurse today!”

  “I thought you were my nurse overnight,” she mutters.

  “Yeah. I was. We work 24 hour shifts. So, you’re stuck with me, babe.” The woman, whom Aislin assumes is in her mid-30s bounces from task to task. She takes Aislin’s vitals, records them in her computer, reviews her chart, and then walks toward the bathroom. Chelsea flicks on the light and clucks her tongue.

  “Be right back. I need to get some towels. Time to get cleaned up, sweetie.” And, with those ominous words hanging heavy in the air behind her, she bounces out the heavy wooden hospital door and down the hall to the right. Aislin releases an audible groan. She’d been awake basically the entire night. Nurses and orderlies had poked and prodded her, changed her saline bags, charted her vitals, asked her repeatedly if she needed anything.

  Chelsea steps back into the room carrying a stack of the scratchy, white hospital towels in her arms. She places the stack in the bathroom and Aislin hears the shuffling of something, plastic opening and being rattled and water coming on and then shutting off in the shower. Chelsea pops her head back into the room. “Ready Freddy?”

  What a nightmare. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Aislin slides to the edge of the bed. Chelsea is ready. She supports her weight and guides her ginger steps to the bathroom. There is a bench in the walk-in shower area. Aislin has never been so happy to see one in her life. A place to sit. Walking had become so hard. Torturous. And, draining. It took every ounce of strength left in her body just to walk 10 feet to the bathroom.

  “Look at you! You’re doing great!” Chelsea beams with pride and way too much sweetness.

  She eases onto the wooden-slatted bench and tries to reach behind her to untie the God-awful hospital gown. Her nurse’s fingers beat her to the tie. Aislin swats her ha
nd.

  “I can do it,” she says, gritting her teeth.

  “Now, don’t be stubborn.”

  “I’m not stubborn. I’m hurt. I’m not dead. I can do this myself. Her fingers find the frayed cotton ends of the tie at her lower back. She gives it a little tug and the knot releases. Victory. Aislin tries to position her hands so that she can reach the middle tie, but her ribs hurt too badly. She tries again. Chelsea taps her foot impatiently. Tap. Tap. Tap. If she could do so without hurting more, Aislin would kick her in the tapping shin. After all, Chelsea had no idea how badly her body hurt. How could she possibly understand what she was feeling?

  “I have other patients, you know.” Where’s perky Chelsea now?

  Aislin scowls at her. “Leave, then.”

  “I can’t. Not until you get a shower, get dressed and get your butt back in that bed. Don’t think I haven’t had stubborn patients before. I have. You just need to let me do my job.” Her voice softens. “I know you are hurtin’. I can’t leave you, even for a minute. Let’s get you showered and dressed and I’ll go get some medicine to help you. I promise.”

  “Fine.” Aislin grumbles, and tries to help as Chelsea undresses her. The nurse unwraps her ribs, which scream in protest. Aislin winces. “I know it hurts, babe, but I promise we’ll clean you up and then re-wrap them even tighter.” Aislin winces again. Tighter does not sound better.

  “Tighter means less pain, babe. For broken ribs it does, anyway.” She has lost all modestly. She sits and lets Chelsea shampoo and condition her hair. She allows her to wash her body, watching the pink-tinted water swirl at the drain beneath her. Lets her wash away the blood and terror that Jeremiah had inflicted. She recalls the wild look in his glassy eyes, the alcohol that hung on his breath and the pain that came from his hands.

  In all of her life, in all of the homes in which she had been placed, even in the home of Rick Peterson, she had never been beaten so badly. What bothered her most was how he professed his undying love, and simultaneously blamed her as he beat her into oblivion.