Its eyes were lost to him. The elements aside, his cursed vision served only to confuse and frustrate. Still, he could feel the shape’s glare stalking him, as if he were nothing more than prey.
The thing raised a claw, and he choked off a scream. A crosswind almost toppled him, and he dropped one of his crutches. He scrambled to pick it up, only to have it slip from his fingers when the shape came for him. It moved oddly, and he wondered why that was; it seemed to limp as badly as he did.
Lightning startled him. He got a hand in front of his eyes just in time, but the added light revealed a new horror. The shape took human form, yet remained utterly monstrous. It had eyes, oh yes, dark and menacing, eyes that now looked completely familiar. They were just like Jared’s, but of course they weren’t his. And that wasn’t a claw.
Kit looked behind him. The bridge beckoned, swaying in the winds. The rain drove against him. Thunder. Thunder. Thunder.
Judd Collado stood five feet away. He turned the knife. “End a the line, kid. For both of us.”
Judd stepped forward, and Kit thrust his crutch at him. Judd threw his arm up to block it, and it knocked the knife from his hand. He slipped on a rock when he tried to snatch it, and groaned in pain when his ankle gave. He fell to his knees. “Bastard!”
On just one leg, Kit hopped onto the bridge and grabbed hold of the railing. The bridge rocked and swayed. He moved along, hopping over gaping holes in the deck. He made ten feet. Fifteen. Twenty.
The storm raged. The bridge swayed with every hop. When he stopped to look back, all he saw was that dark shape at the foot of the bridge. Judd Collado was just a blur.
He endured another short hop, stopping before a pile of broken planks that blocked his path. The roar of the falls nearly drowned out the wind and the rain. Only the crack of thunder rose above it.
Don’t look down, he thought.
But he did.
Everything was dim and out of focus. The river was a giant black snake. It seemed alive, slithering into the forest, leaving a wake of white molted skin—the rolling splash of the falls. The sky flickered, and the rocks below stared up at him, blinking like huge dark eyes.
He turned to the mound of planks. If he could jump that, he might be able to make it all the way to the other side. He braced himself, then leapt as high and as far as he could. He cleared the pile and landed hard on the first plank beyond it. A cold throb shot up his leg and sent him howling. He tried to grab the railing to keep his balance, but his small fingers missed it. He fell forward and rolled toward the edge of the bridge. His legs slipped over, and he dug his fingernails into two planks to stop his progress. The bridge swayed in the wind, and he screamed as his fingers failed him.
He snatched a stringer rope with both hands and dangled above the rocks and the river. Thunder boomed. Lightning darted across the sky, and he shut his eyes tight until it stopped.
Barely hanging on, he swung his good leg up and managed to get it around another stringer. He pulled himself up and flopped over, his heart pounding. Wind rocked the bridge, and he held on for dear life. He squinted into the storm, only to see that misshapen monster take that first step toward him. Judd Collado was coming.
He began to sob. He knew now that nothing could save him. Not his mother, not Jared, nothing. Not even a miracle.
Weather the storm, the voice said.
Lightning flashed, and he closed his eyes tight. He went for his pocket, struggling to work his fingers inside his drenched pants. He dug deep and pulled out his hand, and when he felt those first pangs of a coming seizure, he clutched the stone as hard as he could, and began to count.
~ 202
Jared did his best to keep pace with Marisa. More than once he fell far behind, and she had to wait for him to catch up. Finally, he lagged so far that she came back for him. When she threw an arm around him, he had his eyes closed, enduring the hammering in his brain. He opened them, squinting into the rain. As he trembled, she steadied him.
“How much farther?” she said. “The storm’s so bad I can’t get my bearings.”
He looked down the trail. “Still a ways yet. But that last rise could be tough. It’ll be slippery as hell going up.”
“And worse going down. It was hard enough on a sunny day.”
They headed deeper into the woods and came up to a slight rise. The path curved left, and they made it to the top. A sprawling ponderosa pine stood beside them.
“Look there,” Marisa said. Besides footprints, there were small depressions in the mud, clearly made by the round feet of Kit’s crutches.
“They’re all scattered,” Jared observed. “Kit was probably trying to get away.”
“I hope he still is.”
Marisa moved to the top of the slope and peered down the other side. “How the hell did he make it down?”
They took the slope slowly, using the thick roots that cut across it as makeshift steps. Three-foot gaps between the roots slowed their progress. Marisa led, her body turned sideways, her left leg leading. Jared followed, and despite the growing ache in his fingers, he held her hand.
“There’s only single holes in the dirt,” she said.
“Kit must have set one crutch on the rocks. Maybe Judd helped him down. Maybe he carried the other crutch.”
They stopped at the bottom. Jared didn’t mention the blood he had seen on one of the rocks. But Marisa did.
“Come on,” she said next, leading him away.
They continued along the trail. The trees were thicker here, their old branches forming a dark canopy. They made good progress, but Jared stopped suddenly.
“Mar.”
She turned around. “What?”
“There,” he said, motioning to the secondary trail off the main path.
“What?” she said, not seeing it.
“The old hiking trail, remember? Goes right to the falls.”
“Sure. But it’s a lot longer. And really rocky in spots.”
Jared considered. “You’re right. It’s a bitch to follow. And in this weather? They could get lost.”
They carried on. The way widened a little, and they finally came within thirty yards of the last rise. As they approached it, both of them stopped short at that muted sound that barely cut through the storm.
“Did you hear something?” Marisa said.
“I can’t be sure. Not with the thunder.”
“Was it a voice? A shout?”
They hurried to the foot of the rise. It was a long climb, a good forty feet. Water ran quickly down the steep and rocky slope like a small waterfall.
“Maybe you should take the gun,” Jared said. “I doubt I could even shoot straight right now.”
“And you think I can? No. Just remember your promise.”
He nodded. “I’ll toss it in the river first. Count on it.” He looked up the rise as a fork of lightning split the sky in two. “The old mule needs a push.”
She helped him up the first few feet by pushing him from behind. His footing was better than he expected, but it was still slow going. He slipped once, his knees throbbing, and was glad she was there to stop him from tumbling back down. He wouldn’t have made it back up.
At the top, he extended a hand and helped her up. His arm ached as he pulled, and his hand screamed. If she hadn’t made the last step on her own, he would have had to let go.
High winds threatened to drive them back, and they held their ground. The relentless rain made it hard to see, but they saw enough.
“Kit!” Marisa shouted. “Kiiiiit!”
Winds rocked the bridge. They could barely see Kit’s small form in the driving rain. He clung to a rope, perilously close to the edge.
Judd stood on the bridge, one arm wrapped round the railing to steady himself. At the shouts behind him, he shot a glance over his shoulder. He turned around, clearly favoring his leg. Now he glared at Jared. He looked crazed. Hell-bent on revenge.
“What do we do?” Marisa shouted. The slope was mostly bare r
ock, the angle precarious. Rainwater streamed down its face, giving it a fine sheen as it reflected the light from the flickering sky.
“Stay here,” Jared said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Not on your life!”
Marisa took the first step and slipped. Her right leg shot out from under her, and she flopped onto her back, smacking the rock. Kit’s glasses flew from her shirt and rolled down the slope. She slid down quickly, and when she tried to stop herself by clawing at the rock, she spun round and crashed in a heap at the bottom. Her head struck a sharp rock, knocking her unconscious.
“Marisa!” Jared shouted. His body shifted, and he belly-flopped onto the rock and slid down quickly. He braced himself, and when he struck the ground beside Marisa, his useless arms buckled and he face-planted into the hard mud. Every bone in his body shrieked.
Dizzied, he got to his knees as thunder boomed. Lightning flashed across the sky.
“Marisa! Marisa!”
Her head listed at an odd angle. Her right arm lay limp across her chest, while her left stuck out straight, as if someone had drawn it away from her body. She looked broken.
He tried to revive her with a gentle shake and a mild slap. He put two fingers to her neck and felt a pulse. She was alive, but for how long he couldn’t know. He slipped a hand behind her head, and when he pulled it back, saw blood on his fingers. More than he feared.
The storm raged. Wind slapped his face as the rain pelted him. He looked up in confusion and anger, only to find Big Brother looming on the bridge, taunting him with his knife.
~ 203
Jared struggled to his feet. He could barely see Kit from where he stood. The elements were bad enough, but it was all he could do to see at all. Kit’s crutches lay near the bridge, looking like fuzzy, oddly shaped lengths of wood. Kit was a gray blur, and for a moment, he saw double. Two Judds. Two knives.
Judd was a third of the way along the bridge, just this side of the heap of broken planks. He winced as he hobbled a few steps closer.
“Let him go,” Jared shouted. He took two steps toward the bridge.
“You didn’t say please,” Judd shouted back, snarling. Wind rocked the bridge, and he had to steady his body against the railing.
“Hang on, Kit!” Jared said. He couldn’t know whether Kit heard him. Kit held his head down, trying to protect himself from the cursed lightning. If he suffered a seizure now—
Jared moved within steps of the bridge. His brother seemed dizzy but dangerous.
He knew that look. Judd had drunk himself into a frenzy, and whenever that happened, there was no turning him from the road he was on. The single-mindedness was frightening.
“That’s far enough, Little Brother,” Judd told him.
Jared dared another step. Judd hopped up and down on one leg, rocking the bridge.
“Stop! No! Stop it, Judd!”
Kit held on as the bridge bounced and swayed. Winds ripped across the river, and he almost slipped off.
“Please!” Jared shouted. “Damn you!”
Judd stopped. He winced again, clearly in pain from his efforts. Still, he found a menacing grin.
“Please, Judd. You don’t want to do this. You don’t have to do this.”
“And you didn’t have to come back to Torch Falls. All this shit’s happening because of you.”
“Yes!” Jared admitted. “Yes. All of it. But he’s innocent. Let him go.”
“Artie was innocent,” Judd snapped. “So was Trix. I saw one of their girls take a bullet in the back. They were all innocent, you fucking prick.”
“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “For all of it. But I need you to listen.”
“No! You listen! Do you know what happened to Oro and Plata? Do you? They were butchered.”
Jared couldn’t believe that Horn had gotten to them. But then, who else could it have been? “That had nothing to do with this.”
“They got everything to do with this! I don’t expect some brain-fucked idiot like you to understand. All you care about is you. You don’t give a shit about family. Ya never did. Oro and Plata … they were my family. They were all I had left. You made sure a that a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry! I am! But there are things you don’t understand. Just get Kit off the bridge and let me expl—”
“Shut up! Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up!”
Swirling winds sent the bridge swaying more violently than it was. Kit barely held on.
Jared stepped onto the foot of the bridge. He doubted it would hold all three of them. It had held him and Judd earlier, but Kit’s extra weight could cross the breaking point.
Judd set the blade to the railing. “Don’t,” he shouted. “Don’t even think it.”
“Please … he doesn’t deserve this.”
“Yeah? My friends and my family didn’t deserve you.”
Thunder rolled and lightning bolted through the sky. Jared hesitated as the bridge swayed. He glanced back at Marisa—she wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, he feared—and then he stiffened under the pounding in his brain.
He turned back to the bridge and faced his brother. Judd’s cold stare said it all. Here was not the man he thought he knew. This was a man ready to flick the switch on his own electric chair.
His knees buckled. He wavered in the storm, but the sight of Kit—his son—clutching that stringer gave him the will. It was now or never.
His eyes locked with Judd’s as he stepped onto the bridge. He gripped the railing with a failing hand, and with the other, reached behind him and drew the revolver.
“If we die,” he said, raising the .38, “a lot more are going to.”
~ 204
Jared hugged the railing as a blast of wind rocked the bridge.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Judd shouted.
“Kit! He’s the only one who can stop what’s happening!”
“You think I’m that fucking stupid?”
“Please! You have to listen to me! I know you’re hurting, Judd. A lot of people are. But revenge isn’t going to bring Artie back. It won’t bring anyone back. If we don’t stop this now, all this killing will never stop.”
“You think I care any more? You think I give a shit?”
Judd started to cut the rope. Jared crossed a gap in the bridge and aimed the .38.
Judd stopped. “You ain’t got the guts, Little Brother.”
“Don’t make me do this. We’re still brothers, Judd.”
Judd continued to cut the rope. Jared fired into the air.
Judd turned to him with a grin. “No guts.”
“I’m not fucking around, Judd.”
Judd took a step toward Jared. “Do it.”
Jared froze.
“Do it!” Judd screamed.
Jared motioned with the .38. “Enough! Enough!”
“Just brains,” Judd said mockingly. “No brawn.” He took another step.
Jared fired as the bridge swayed. The bullet missed.
Judd charged. Jared fired again, and the bullet caught Judd in the side. Blood seeped from the wound as he fell to a knee. He still held the knife, and he grabbed a stringer rope and huddled up to it. He grimaced up at Jared.
“Hang on, Kit!” Jared shouted. He took a step and slipped. His hand caught the railing as powerful crosswinds shook the bridge.
He looked back and saw Marisa rise to her feet. She had her back to him. He called out, and she slowly turned around. She looked dazed from the fall. At least she was alive.
He couldn’t see her clearly in the storm. But when she took a few short steps, in his horror he realized three things: Her eyes were dark and bloodshot—thick veins slithered across her face—and she wasn’t walking toward the bridge. She was walking toward the cliff.
“Marisaaaa!”
She was twenty feet from the edge. She either didn’t see it, or didn’t care.
Or that’s all she sees, he thought. And the only thing she cares about. Monster thoughts.
Marisa stumbled on some rocks but kept her balance. She carried on as if nothing else mattered, not even Kit. Words slipped from her lips, but were lost to the storm.
Jared doubled back on the bridge as fast as he was able. “Marisa! No! Stop!”
He stepped off the foot of the bridge. In his haste, he slipped in the slick mud. Pain shot up his legs, and he fell to all fours. Marisa was less than ten feet from the cliff. He was twenty from her. “Marisa! Nooo!”
It was too late. She wouldn’t turn; wouldn’t stop. He rose to one knee to steady himself, grappling with the agony in his body. His hands ached so badly he could barely hold the .38. He held firm and raised the revolver. The rain drove into his eyes. He aimed for her leg as well as he could. And fired.
Missed.
He fired again. The bullet struck her in the left calf, and she threw her head back with a shriek. She fell to her knees, then crumpled to the hard ground. She was barely a foot from the cliff.
Marisa looked up. Already those thick veins were thinning and fading. Her eyes quickly returned to normal. She was shaken, disoriented, but her eyes widened. “Jared! Watch out!”
Jared struggled to his feet as he turned. Judd was almost on top of him, the knife raised above him. He brought it down, his eyes burning with anger.
The blade ripped into Jared’s shoulder, and he screamed. Judd yanked the knife free and shoved him onto his back. His hand smacked against a rock, and the .38 popped out of his hand. It skittered down the rock and stopped near the edge of the cliff. Marisa screamed for her son.
Judd came at Jared. Jared rolled over, and his smartphone slipped out of his breast pocket. It slid down the rock and came to rest near the gun.
Judd slipped, hobbling in pain. Jared stuck out his leg, and Judd tripped over it. He hit the ground hard and dropped the knife. It skittered away.
The sky thundered. Jared got to his knees, dizzy. Pain rippled through his knife wound. He shifted toward the slope hoping he could snag the gun, but was too late.
Judd scooped up the knife. His shirt and his pants were drenched in his blood. “Just like always,” he said, grinning. “Never on time.”
Gateway Page 47
