The black clouds slowed and the winds began to ease. They began to huddle at the base of the mountains, where their stillness caused them to disperse into nothingness. The blowing sand settling back to the ground and the blue sky reappearing overhead. Boots lowered his hand and turned. He walked back to the shed, opened the door, and led the mare out to its pen. He patted its neck, and then spanked its back end. The horse trotted out, shaking off its fears in the gravel and dust. Boots walked up to the trailer and noticed the couple staring at him through the window before they could duck out of sight.
———
“What was that all about?” Laura whispered to Jack, trying her best to understand what she thought she saw.
“I have no idea.”
“Did you see what he did?”
“What do you think he did?”
“Stopped the storm . . . he stopped . . .”
“No, he didn’t.”
“But, Jack, he—”
“He didn’t.”
They heard him come in the front door, his boots clicking on the floor in the hall.
“You all can come out now. Storm’s done.”
They walked out of the bedroom cautiously, not able to hide their perplexed state of fear before the old man.
“Winds whip up pretty quick out here. No big deal.”
“What were you doing out there, Boots?” Jack asked, point-blank.
“Having a bit of fun, I guess.”
Laura looked at Boots, trying to figure out this puzzle of a man.
“Yeah, nothing like a good storm to wake you up.”
“So you went out and yelled at the wind?”
“Haha . . . good a time as any to get some things off the mind.”
Laura looked at Jack and back to Boots, her tension and confusion easing every minute. She couldn’t explain what she thought she saw happen, but Boots’s personality warmed her every time he started talking. No, she thought. He wasn’t crazy. Maybe eccentric, odd, but not crazy.
“You yelled at the storm, and it stopped?” Jack asked.
“Now that don’t make much sense, does it, Jack?”
31
Molly sat in the corner of the cave. She had lost track of the days. She would wake up, not realizing she’d been asleep, and drift back into dreaming. The absence of light messed with her inner clock. It could have been days, weeks. She had no idea.
Colten would come in, throw some provisions before her, light a cigarette, and watch her eat. Sometimes he would talk, sometimes he wouldn’t. It was the times he wouldn’t that worried her the most, as if any part of this nightmare caused less panic than others.
She looked up and saw him as he entered the cave and began the now habitual routine. He was silent, but his silence was more than an absence of speech. He was a black hole pulling in every sense of home that she had managed to maintain. Her stomach tightened and she pressed against the wall, the cold stone grinding her vertebrae, and wished the rock would embrace and hide her just as her mother’s arms used to do when she was younger.
Colten had driven out there that day in a trance. Today was it. Today was the fruition of the week’s game. The girl was broken. Yes, he had thought about it all day, sweating in the little convenience store. The excitement and anticipation had slowly built throughout the hours and would now climax in the final act. He stood against the wall of the cave and watched her eat the small bag of chips and wrapped sandwich that he had brought. It was pointless for her to eat. He knew that, but keeping her hoping that salvation would come was more important than the three dollars spent on wasted food.
His fury had followed him here, the wind whistling through the canyon. Darkness eroding a sunny day; his mood shape-shifting the atmosphere. He watched her chew, slowly savoring each bite. His rage building as he envisioned ripping her apart right then and there. Her screaming out for her mother with her last breath, a tear rolling down her cheek as the fading dream of home burned out of her eyes. His hands sweat with anticipation, his legs begging him to set them in motion, to bring him to her, to begin the process of erasing her.
Colten walked over to her and squatted down. Looking into her face, he began to channel every evil thought in his mind, every bad thing that had ever happened to him, and everything he ever wanted to say to his oppressors. The air began to stir, and the storm outside the cave increased with each passing thought. He reached out and grabbed her by the back of the neck. She screamed as his grip tightened.
But then, in the back of his mind, a glitch formed, like someone had pressed a thumb on an old bruise. Silent whispering sneaking up his spine, staying his rage, binding his resolve.
He looked at her, and loosened his grip on her neck. Once free, she cowered next to the wall, breathing heavy and consumed by shear panic.
“Naw . . . something ain’t right. Not yet, at least.”
The air outside began to settle, the storm held back by an unseen hand.
“Naw . . . you’re not ready yet. Something . . . something just . . .”
He walked over to the other side of the cave and lit a cigarette. He leaned up against the wall, putting one leg back and resting one hand on the lifted knee. He stared at the girl, who was slowly untangling from her fetal position.
“Tomorrow . . . yeah, tomorrow would be better.”
Colten flicked the cigarette across the cave, and it hit the rock next to the girl. He rubbed the back of his neck, a vain attempt to rub out the nagging feeling of doubt hung up in his spine.
“Yeah . . . it just ain’t time.”
He walked out to his truck and headed back down the mountain.
The girl’s whimpers turned to sobs as the fading ember of the cigarette butt died in the darkness.
32
Having come back in from the storm, Boots appeared distracted, as if he was searching his thoughts for a vague recollection. He set about the cabin in silence, looking for items in a haphazard way and stuffing things into his satchel. Jack and Laura could not see exactly what he was grabbing, but both got the sense that the old man was preparing for a short journey. Finally, Jack broke the silence.
“What are you doing, Boots?”
“Just got something to get to.”
“Are we taking off?”
“Naw, just me,” Boots said.
“Come on, Boots, if you’re going to town, we can keep up with you.”
“Ain’t going to town, Jack.”
“Then where are you going?”
“Nowhere you need to know.”
Jack looked over at Laura, who was sitting on the couch. She appeared as uneasy as he felt. “Come on, let us—”
“I said, nowhere you need to know. Now I want you two to sit tight, and stay inside. Ain’t nothing out there for you right now.”
“Boots—”
“I mean it!” Boots yelled, staring Jack down with a force that he had not witnessed up to this point from the old man. His mild temperament replaced with harsh determination. “Now I got something to get to, and I want you to stay here.”
“All right, all right,” Jack said as he sat down next to his wife.
The old man closed his satchel, adjusted his hat, and went out the front door. In moments they could hear the neighing of the horse as it rode off toward the mountains and the soon-fading sunset.
“What’s going on, Jack?”
Jack’s deflated ego weighed down his words. “I don’t know.”
Boots made his way to the mountains with the speed and grace of a snake through the dimming light of evening. The horse carried him on without hesitation. The beast knew that if there was ever a time to question and pull against its master, tonight was not the time to do it. The pair made their way up a path of their own making, guided by the stern eye of the old man at the reins. The horse did not misstep, and though they had never trekked this way before, it was as if the trail before them was outlined in lights and arrows.
Cresting a small ridge, Boots stopped the
horse and got down. He walked forward several steps and crouched on the ground. He could see in the waning light the two-track leading up the mountain and stretching across the desert floor in the opposite direction. Tire tracks lay fresh in the sand. The way the dirt was kicked up the hill, he could see that they were made by a vehicle on the descent. He was alone on the mountain, but then again, he knew he wasn’t entirely alone.
Boots led the horse on foot, and the mare seemed to enjoy the slower pace and lighter load. The two walked up the side of the two-track, the mountain walls embracing them with cold invitation.
Boots laid his hand on the cliff wall, feeling the radiant heat of the day licking his palm. He stood motionless, eyes shut as if taking the pulse of the world. This was the place. This chasm spiraling upward and inward.
They walked on as darkness moved in around them. Enveloping them with each step. The mare’s head held low as it trotted behind Boots, content with him to take the lead. They trudged on into mystery until the two-track dead-ended in a small clearing surrounded by rock, which produced the effect of standing on the floor of a volcano. The mountain walls stretched up above him, ominously looking down with ageless coldness.
Boots dropped the reins and the horse stood still. He walked across the opening to the far side where he saw a small cave cut into the rock wall. Without missing a beat, he went inside and disappeared from view.
33
Colten drove through the desert back to Goodwell in a trance. He had brought himself to the brink of hysteria, but something had nudged him back. It wasn’t a prick of conscience, but a nagging feeling that it just wasn’t the right time, that something had to be done before he could fully relish in snuffing the life out of the girl.
The dirt kicked up behind the truck as he drove in silence, his elbow on the open window as his hand rubbed his chin. Thinking, exploring the scenario in his mind. He was so sure of the outcome throughout the day that he felt a sense of disappointment in himself. A sense that he had faltered. Why was he waiting, what could be added to the act that would make it any more welcoming tomorrow? It made no sense. It made perfect sense.
He pulled into the small town and up to the gas station. It was getting dark. The sunset over the now-distant mountain range spilling blood red over the desert valley. He parked the truck and let it idle as he sat there, contemplating the whole scene again in his mind.
Walking up to the girl, grabbing her neck, and feeling the smooth, unadulterated skin beneath his palm, her look of terror and the scream building in her lungs. Yes, everything had been perfect, he thought. He should have done it.
“You should have done it. You had the chance,” said Seth, now sitting in the passenger seat.
Colten was not surprised to find him in the truck now. His gaze remained vacant as he stared out the front window. “Yeah, but something just didn’t . . .”
“Didn’t feel right? What do you know about feeling right?”
“It just wasn’t the time.”
“Sure it was. You just lost it.”
“I didn’t lose it.”
Seth stared at Colten. Colten glared back. The two of them looked cut from the same cloth, just at different times in history. The older man’s button-up shirt showed the fading of time, dark patches under the armpits brought on by a life in the desert heat. His pearl buttons caught the last light of day and sparkled.
“So what are you going to do? You just going to sit here and sulk?”
“No.”
“Huh, looks to me like that’s what you’re doing.”
Colten opened the truck door and stepped out, leaving the truck running. He walked up to the shack convenience store and went inside. The fan was off, and the stale air hung thick as he went back to the cooler. Seth was standing there waiting for him.
“Quit hiding in here.”
“I’m not hiding,” Colten said as he reached into the cooler and pulled out a drink.
“Looks like hiding to me.”
“Would you get off my back? I told you, it just wasn’t right. I’ll get to it sure enough.”
“All I’m saying is you can’t let these things go too long. You’ll get crazy, it’ll get messy . . . sloppy.”
“I know how to do this . . . you of all people should know that.” Colten stared at the man, his hatred building again with each sip from the aluminum can. They stood in negative shades, dim reflections in the cooler’s lighted glow. “If you know everything, what do you think I should do, huh?”
“I’d go back up there and get it done.”
“Why tonight? Just as good doing it tomorrow.”
“Naw, you was right in thinking that something wasn’t right . . . I’d get back up there quick.”
Colten took another slow swig from the can, and then wiped his forehead with his arm. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that somebody is messing with your prize.”
“What?”
“Just saying.”
“Saying what?”
“Saying that someone has caught on to your work and has decided to deal himself into the game.”
“Who? Red? He don’t know anything.”
“No, not Red. Someone you wouldn’t know.”
“So why should I be worried?”
“’Cause he’s heading up there right now . . . to the cave . . . to steal your girl.”
Colten turned and ran toward the door. He scampered across the gravel, opened the door of the still running pickup truck, and slammed it into gear. Tearing out of the station, he cut a crazed figure against the twilight. Riding shotgun beside him was the man in the dark shirt and pearl buttons.
“It’ll be all right, Cole. You’ll get up there and do it quick.”
“I should have done it before.”
“Yeah, but you’ll fix that mistake soon enough.”
Colten felt a morbid panic rush through his guts. His mind was racing a thousand different directions that he tried to untangle. So much different than when he had made this trek earlier, driving slowly and savoring the expectation of vicious deeds soon to be realized. Now he raced through the night, as scared as a young boy when he realizes that his father is on to his lies.
“Who is this guy?”
“Just some old-timer meddling in things that don’t concern him.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, I know him.”
Colten’s steel stare switched from the blacktop to Seth and back again. “You knew he was coming, didn’t you. You knew it and didn’t tell me!”
“This guy’s been around a long time, Cole. He usually doesn’t get involved. Huh, usually doesn’t care about a thing. Takes the world to come apart for him to get moving.”
“Why now?”
“Who knows? He can’t be figured out,” Seth said. “Just get up there before he takes off with her.”
Down the highway he drove until he came to the two-track in the desert. He turned off the highway, and the man in the passenger seat dematerialized out of the truck cab and dispersed into the dusty backwash of the truck’s exhaust.
The cave was still a ways off . . . and with all his panic, all his anxiety, all his fury, Colten willed himself to press faster through the desert night.
34
Boots made his way to the back of the cave without the aid of any light. Though he had not been there before, he moved like a dwarf through the dark tunnels of Moria. The entrance soon gave way to a small chamber that was dimly illuminated by a chasm in the roof where star and moonlight fought their way to the cave floor. Stepping inside, he surveyed the scene.
To his left, Boots found a small, half-burnt candle and picked it up. Out of his satchel, he grabbed a match and lit the wick. The small flame did little to cut the darkness, but he held it in front of him as he walked forward.
Across the small room, Boots saw the young girl lying on the ground. Her legs were brought up close and she hugged them with her arms. Her dark hair masked her face and she
appeared to be sleeping. The light from the candle reflected off a thin chain that ran from her ankle to an anchor bolt in the wall behind her. A captive.
Boots approached softly and worked the chain. The clasp opened and he freed her from its bondage.
———
The motion caused her to wake with a scream. Molly, in a state of narcoleptic hysteria, swung at the man and knocked him upside the head, causing him to spill over from his squatted legs and tumble on the floor. She shot up and gave him a swift kick in the stomach. She felt weak and realized that she had no power in her leg. The blow didn’t seem to faze the man. She backed up against the wall, shaking like a trapped animal and ready to fight for survival.
Regaining his composure in the dark, the old man stood to his short height.
“It’s all right now, I’m here to get you out,” he said, his voice echoing off the stone walls while his hand rubbed his stomach.
“Stay away from me!”
“Now, I’m not going to hurt you . . . all right?”
“Get back!”
The man reached down and grabbed the candle. Took another match and relit it. He then raised the candle to his face. “I know I ain’t much to look at, but I’m here to get you out. Now don’t go kicking me no more.”
Molly stared back at him. Her eyes darting from the cave entrance, to the old man before her, and then back. She was sizing him up, thinking whether she could outrun the bearded elf who stood before her.
“You can run out that door and be in the same awful mess, or you can come with me and we can get someplace safe.”
She sorted out her options as best as she could, but the endless days of hopelessness had exhausted every ounce of energy she had. Just standing was proving too much to handle as her head began to swim. She fought the urge to faint, not wanting to be like one of those movie heroines who collapse at the worst possible time, but the room began to spin and she fell under her own weight.
Purgatory Road Page 8
