by TJ Vargo
"I'm here Jackson. You're safe."
Just a shadow. It was all he saw. A form with dark hair moving beside him, then gone. He jumped toward the figure in the mist, searching. Trying to find her, see her, talk to her. She was there. He could feel her presence. Close enough to keep him safe, but far enough to be always out of his sight. The mists swirled around his feet as he ran to find her. His feet pounded the ground. Sweat gathered on his forehead, dripping down and stinging his eyes. Running blind, the mist all around. Running with the thought the he'd never stop until he found her. Never stop. Never... ever... stop
Chapter Sixteen
Something touched him. On the arm. Something touched him right on the bone of his elbow and he screamed, jerking upright from a dead sleep.
A large face. All blurry with its mouth moving a mile a minute but he couldn't understand the words coming out. It was a florid, doughy face - Fletcher's things come back to grab him, take him down to the place they'd come from. His hands darted out. He grabbed that face, his fingers digging into soft flesh. Get away from me. GET AWAY!
A slap on the cheek knocked him out of his panic. He gasped and looked around dazed. How had he gotten on his feet? He rubbed his eyes, the dark interior of the church coming into focus along with the faces of Frida and Felicia, Felicia's voice ringing in his ears as her hands grabbed and shook him. "Jackson, wake up. It's okay, wake up."
"It's alright. No harm done," said Frida, pulling Felicia's hands from Jackson. Frida sniffed and ran her hands back from her temples, smoothing the hair that Jackson had shaken loose from a tight bun at the back of her head. She wore the clothes of a mom baking apple pies in a 1950's magazine ad. A bright yellow dress with small cotton-blue daisies gaily peppered on it, a scalloped white collar with lace edging around the neck, and a loose belt that cinched the fabric against her round waist. She turned to Felicia. "Run out to the side pump and get him some water." She waited a second before adding, "Hurry girl, it's late and we got little time."
"Little time for what?" Jackson asked.
Her eyes darkened and flashed at Jackson. "We've got work to do and its not going to happen unless we get busy." She watched Felicia slip out a side door and said to herself in a whisper, "Got to move fast. They're coming."
Jackson watched her. Her hands busy picking at the blue daisies in the lap of her dress. She kept working her mouth, licking her lips, chewing the corner of her mouth. Her eyes had a hunting dog's look. The look a retriever wore when the hunter's rifle came up to take a shot. She could barely contain her excitement. Her agitation, the heat of blood reddening her face, it all flowed off her and bounced around Jackson. He couldn't help but feel jumpy.
"You okay Frida?" Jackson asked.
She turned too quickly, looking at Jackson as if she'd just realized he was there. Then she let out a burst of loud, rapid-fire laughter and Jackson took a step back.
"I'm sorry Jackson, my mind is somewhere else, what did you say?" She laughed again, the kind of misplaced sound that bubbled out of a person remembering the punchline of a joke a day after it was told.
Jackson stepped away from her. He watched her closely, his mind beginning to race. He wished he and Felicia had stayed on their horses and kept riding until this town was a distant memory. Trying to relax, looking at Frida with the calmest expression he could muster while she giggled under her breath, he cursed himself. Why hadn't he listened to Felicia? What could this crazy woman do to help him? He cleared his throat and got her to at least quit giggling. But the wild glint in her eyes sparkled even more.
"You have something you need to tell me Jackson?" she asked.
"Yeah." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat again. "Yeah I wanted to tell you Frida, I wanted to tell you that I don't think we need your help. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate everything you've done, but me and Felicia were talking and, well, we decided that we're just going to ride through the forest into the next town. We only waited because we wanted to thank you."
She stopped giggling and her face tightened. Her eyes drew down hard.
"You can't do that. I'm here to help you."
Jackson' head jerked toward the sound of a door opening. Seeing Felicia, he swallowed his heart back into his chest, watching her carefully shut the door and come toward him, sloshing water in a galvanized pail she bounced against her knee. She set the bucket down at his feet, breathing hard.
"Take a drink Jackson. You look terrible."
He looked over at Frida as he lifted a dipper of water from the bucket and tried to smile. He had to keep her calm, especially now that she had that look of disbelief (or was it worry?) in her eyes. His heart was beating in his throat. The water was metallic tasting, but it ran ice cold down his throat. He put the dipper back in the bucket and cupped his hands, scooping the cold water and splashing it in his face. It took his breath away.
"I hope that woke you up," said Frida. "Cuz if it didn't, we might have a problem."
Felicia's brow wrinkled. She looked at Frida. "Did something happen while I was gone?" she asked.
"It's nothing I can't fix, Missy," said Frida. She flapped a hand in Felicia's direction. "Anyhow, you just sit down. It was probably you that talked him into thinking he didn't need my help. That you could just ride out of town without a worry."
Jackson interrupted. "Frida, she didn't say anything like that. I'm the one that had to convince her." He turned and whispered under his breath to Felicia. "We need to get out of here."
"What are you whispering about?" hissed Frida, moving toward them with a quickness that made her feet seem to barely touch the floor.
Felicia touched Jackson' hand, whispering. "When I was outside, I checked to see how the horses were doing. They're gone Jackson. Someone let them loose." She glanced quickly at Frida, then back to Jackson, her brows drawn together. "Someone doesn't want us to get out of here,” she said in a rush.
Jackson whipped around to face Frida, stopping her in her tracks a couple steps away. She took a step back, her indignation turning to confusion as Jackson stalked toward her.
"You let our horses go, didn't you?" he said, his voice low and threatening.
Whatever crazed energy Frida had come in with suddenly left her. The glint in her eyes died at the sight of Jackson coming toward her. "I did it to save you Jackson. Only to save you. Nathaniel's got the whole town out looking. If anyone saw those horses here they'd know they were yours. You'd be dead meat. He'd have you spitted and roasted before the night were through."
"That wasn't your decision to make!" Jackson lifted his hand and watched her cower.
"Jackson, no!"
Felicia's voice rang in his ears. He held his hand over the trembling form of Frida Commons as he hissed through clenched teeth, "Damn it," and turned to face Felicia. "So now what are we gonna do?" He glanced at Frida and his eyes narrowed. "You screwed us good, didn't you? Without those horses, we are dead meat. You're helping him, aren't you? You can tell me. What is this, part of the game for the night? Let's see how long they can hide before we hunt them down?"
"No, no - you don't understand. I saved you," said Frida, her hand reaching out to grab Jackson by the shirt. She winced when he slapped her hand away.
"Don't touch me," he said, his face crinkling in disgust. Nostrils flaring, he exhaled loudly and turned his back on Frida. He waved Felicia over. "C'mon, we don't need horses. We're walking out of here."
"No you can't," said Frida before cringing at the glare her comment raised from Jackson.
Jackson pulled Felicia down the aisle of the church toward the front doors. Echoes of their hurried footsteps rebounded through the high ceilings of the empty church, covering his voice as he said, "There's got to be a town close by. We'll just be careful. Move slow and watch our backs." He pulled open the doors to the small entrance foyer. Frida's shrill voice rose up behind them. Her heavy tread pounded as she hurried to catch them before they left.
"They're out there right now. Nathaniel and th
e rest of them. Waiting for you all to come out and be gathered up."
Jackson stopped and turned to watch Frida approach. He squeezed Felicia's hand.
"How do you know?" he asked.
Frida stopped as she neared him and breathed heavily for a moment. Her eyes slid back and forth, searching the church and then locked on Jackson and went wide. "You know I liked you from the first time I saw you. Frida doesn't steer people she likes the wrong way." She breathed deep through her nose and set herself, gaining a serious composure. "I got to tell you, I'm pretty sure I heard some of them coming down the main street just as I got to the church. That's why I had to let them horses go - I'm telling you, those horses would've given away where you was hiding!" She licked her lips and wiped the back of her hand over her forehead. "I just didn't want to scare you by telling you they was close. Fear's an awful thing at a time like this. The last thing I wanted was for the fear to be eating you up, get you thinking there was no way out." Her eyebrows rose and her chin dropped to her chest, doubling up as she locked a gaze on Jackson, seeing she had his attention. "Unfortunately, you called my hand here, so I have to tell you the truth - there ain't no earthly way for you to get away by running. There ain't no man or beast that can run fast enough to get away from him."
Jackson was quiet for a moment, only the sounds of the old church settling around them breaking the silence. He squeezed Felicia's hand and gave her a quick glance, looking at her ripped dress and clenched his jaw before turning back to face Frida. There was an urge to not listen, just turn and leave, but something about Frida's posture, her tone of voice, something about her held him in place. He tried to ignore his desire to listen to her, saying, "I can tell you right now, I'm not waiting here to be caught and dragged back to that house of horrors. I'd rather make a run for it than sit and wait for them to find us."
He crossed his arms over his chest. Felicia reached over and put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze before stepping back. She smiled the melancholy smile a mother makes when their child is willful. "Is something funny?" he asked.
"No," Frida shook her head, her smile falling, "nothing's funny. I just wish I could get you to understand that I really can help you." She walked over to grab Felicia's hand. She looked at him, as if asking for permission, then slowly reached out and held his hand, making a link between the three of them. He was surprised that he allowed her to grab his hand, but he felt strangely complacent, staring at her, listening to her.
"I can get you out Jackson. Both of you," Frida whispered. "And like I said, there ain't no earthly way to do it, but it can be done just the same."
"I want to go Jackson," Felicia said, her voice cracking. "This isn't good."
Frida's hand tightened on Jackson's in a strong hearty squeeze. She had his complete attention. "Your sister here is right to be afraid. I mean she almost got gang raped. But it's up to you to be strong and do the right thing for her."
Jackson looked at Frida, trying to find a hint of deceit. She backed up a bit, released her grip on his hand, never taking her eyes from him. His hand was still warm where she'd held it, and he wiped at it absently. "All right. I'll listen, but if I don't like it we're leaving." He glanced at Felicia, then back to Frida. "Go ahead."
Frida's shoulders lifted. Her eyes lighted up. She could barely contain her excitement. "First off, you probably already know you're in a tight spot and the man that has you there doesn't fight fair. Problem is, not only don't he fight fair, but he's evil. He can do things. Believe me," she chuckled, "I know because he showed me how to do things too." She looked down, trying to stifle another chuckle. "Yes he did, yes he did. Showed me. Taught me a bit of it. And just a bit goes a long way, let me tell you."
Trying to cover the touch of shivers that lifted the hair on the back of his neck, Jackson nodded at her. "Go on, I'm listening."
"Good," she said, her eyes nearly closing as she smiled, "I knew you would. I had you figured for a man that could tell when the truth's coming at him - no matter how fast it's moving." The humor faded from her face. Her eyes deadened, and she drew close, lowering her voice. "Now what I need to tell you may sound strange, but it's true. He showed me how to call people."
"I don't want anything to do with this," said Felicia, her voice rising. The whites of her eyes were huge as she kept talking. "It's going to be like this afternoon, but this time those things will be coming for us Jackson. Let's leave now. LET'S LEAVE NOW!"
Jackson barely had a chance to open his mouth before Frida shouted.
"You calm down Missy! If you know what's good for you, you will CALM DOWN NOW!"
All the steam went out of Felicia. She stepped toward Jackson and fell into his arms. He patted her back and whispered, "It's okay. If I don't like what she's saying, we'll leave."
"As I was saying," Frida continued, "He showed me 'the calling'."
"What is that?" asked Jackson.
"It's..., how do I say this? Put it this way. Blood calls to blood. Flesh calls to flesh. If you have a blood relation, they can be compelled to come to you and help you in a time of need."
"Why would I need that?"
Before Frida could answer, Jackson heard Felicia.
"She's talking about your mother Jackson. Frida is saying she can bring her back to help us."
Frida nodded at Felicia and laughed. "Good girl. I knew you'd get your head screwed back on straight." She turned back to Jackson. "All we need is a little of your blood Jackson. Just a little and I can call your mom back to help you." As if sensing Jackson' reluctance, she moved in close, clasped him by both shoulders and looked up into his face.
"Your mother escaped from here Jackson. She's the only one who's ever done that; ask your sister here."
"That's right. It's true."
"And I can call her back to help you do the same. Problem is, we don't have much time."
The front doors rattled, bringing a small gasp from Felicia and making Jackson jump.
"Only the wind," soothed Frida, then adding, "But next time it might be something else." She tightened her grip on Jackson's shoulders. "It's time to choose Jackson. You can take your chances out there or in here. If you ask me it's all the same even if I am lying - you'd never get away with a whole town searching for you. Nathaniel only let it happen once and he won't let it happen again. At least with me, you'll have a chance and maybe even get to see your mama for the first time."
The doors leading to the outside rattled again as the church was buffeted by a growing wind. There was a small cracking sound, maybe a hinge loosening. Then a huge gale roared and the doors flew open. Jackson spun to look at the doors then shifted his gaze to Felicia. He had to raise his voice, the wind whipping his hair into his face. "I think they're out there waiting for us. Maybe not sure where we are just yet, but waiting for us to show ourselves." The next part came out with a little more difficulty. "I think we should take a chance and do what she says."
Felicia nodded. Her shoulders sagged. "Okay," was all she said.
Her body language concerned him, but he let it pass. He went over to the doors and closed one of them, making sure it was locked. Wind swirled in his hair from the remaining open door. He turned back to a grinning Frida. "Okay, we'll do it your way. But what does blood have to do with this?" he asked.
"It's needed - something I learned from Nathaniel," Frida said. "That's all I know about it."
"And after the blood?" Jackson asked.
"You give me a little bit of yourself, a little of your blood out of your own free will, and I'll get your mommy to come here to lead you poor children out of this godforsaken town. I can't explain it any better than that." She hesitated, then added, "You'll see what happens for yourself."
Jackson reached back and slowly pushed the door closed. The church had become cold. He rubbed his hands on his arms and nodded his head. "Okay. I'm game. Let's see what happens - as long as it gets us out of here."
"Now you're talking," said Frida, her eyes glistening.
Chapter Seventeen
A soft hand caressed his face. His eyes opened to a fuzzy sight of a woman, her voice touching on the edge of his consciousness.
"It doesn't look bad. Thank God she's gone. Are you okay?"
He saw his hands out there, reaching for her. The hands of a statue would've been better. There was a slowness, a bit of a bad connection between his thoughts to reach out to her and his hands actually doing it. The blurry figure above him gently pushed his searching hands down to his chest.
"Can you sit up?" she asked.
Her strong grip pulled him up to a sitting position. Almost lost it, white spots spinning like fireflies at the edges of his sight. But he kept his eyes open, waiting out the touch of vertigo.
"It's not bad Jackson. You're still bleeding a little, but not bad," she said, carefully turning his hand over and examining it.
His brain clicked over, hearing the words. He pulled his hand away and looked at it. Had Frida done this?
"C'mon Jackson, get it together. Are you okay?"
Blurred edges came into focus. Images started to come together in his mind. Frida, her fat behind rolling from hip to hip as he followed her up to the altar. Once on the altar, she asked for his hand. A silver flash swept across it. A burning followed the path of the knife, searing across his palm. He remembered being stunned for a moment. Looking down at his hand, hearing Felicia yell his name. The mistake had been turning toward Felicia's yell, not hearing her warning. A heavy shot to the back of the head had brought a black curtain down over his eyes. Frida had cut him and then cold cocked him. He'd remember that. She had a mean streak and damn quick moves for a fat lady.
He gingerly put his hand in his lap and looked at the gash running straight across his palm. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. Felicia's face was close to his, worry lines running deep between her eyes. "She hit me good," he murmured.
