The Wilds (Reign and Ruin 1)

by Jules Hedger

  I pried open the window by the bed and pulled the tobacco box out again. What I needed now was a drink. Or a smoke. And I had one so fuck it, I was going to sneak a cigarette out of the window like a lame teenager.

  The first drag was incredible and so sue me, the second drag was, too. I relished the feeling of the cool air drifting in, carrying out the sweet smoke as it swirled around the room and back out of the window. Once the cigarette was finished I thumbed through the box past the photographs and rolled another one. I probably smoked three or four before I stopped, and then I just sat looking out the window, running my hands over the gold chain around my neck and thinking of Cirrus's fingers around my waist.

  I wish I had looked further into that fucking box . . .

  ***

  I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke the next morning, the room was still dark. Someone had drawn the curtains shut and covered me with the large comforter from the bed. I pushed off the comforter and stretched my legs out luxuriously. My foot knocked against the wooden tobacco box.

  Oh, great, I thought. He must have come in and seen his tobacco. He'll be angry. I meant to sneak it back into his room when he was in the washroom. I didn't know what time it was but the crack between the curtains let a small stream of daylight in. It must be early morning, but not too early because I could hear that tell-tale whistle out in the garden. Expecting to see Tyler outside, I drew open the curtains.

  A man's face stared back at me through the window.

  I cried out and stumbled backwards, my feet nearly catching on the rug. It was the coal man from the train! His face was still smeared with the black dust and he was looking straight into my eyes. My hand fumbled for the knife in my pocket and the man watched me clumsily open the blade with trembling fingers.

  Brandishing the knife in what I hoped was a terrifying manner, I pointed it directly at his face through the glass. The whistling continued outside.

  "What the fuck do you want?" My voice came out harsh and croaky and entirely too soft to frighten anyone. It has been too long since I had smoked, and the burned patches of my throat resisted, throwing up a bought of coughing that caught me unawares. It seared and the man simply stood on his ladder, watching me as I tried to stay upright during the coughing fit, tears streaming down my eyes.

  I eventually pulled myself together and when he caught my eyes again, he moved his arm toward the box on the bed. He shook his head.

  "What? You want a cigarette?" I asked disbelievingly. He shook his head again and mimed tipping it over. "Dude, say something. I'm serious or I am calling Tyler."

  The coal man put a finger to his lips and started to climb back down the ladder. My knife and I rushed to the window to watch him walk through the back garden and climb over the wall, just in time to miss the gardener walk around the corner raking the leaves, whistling.

  I hurriedly closed the curtains. My heart pounded and I closed my eyes for a moment to slow it down.

  He could have killed me, but he didn't. He dragged me onto a train, put a knife in my pocket and then played charades at my window . . . for what? Just thinking about how long he might have been waiting there behind the curtain gave me the creeps.

  In the brief shock of finding a lurker behind my window, I had forgotten my brief escapade as a petty thief. Grimacing at the box on the bed, there was nothing doing except to apologize to Tyler and hope he was as dumpy as he came off to be yesterday.

  I found him at the kitchen table, looking over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. Underneath the boiling of the tea kettle, an old record player was singing Benny Carter. Tyler looked up through his reading spectacles and put down his pen.

  "Well, good morning. You must have needed more than a nap! Did you sleep well?" he asked.

  "Yeah, I slept great thanks." He nodded in satisfaction and put his hands together. And just smiled. I waited for him to say something about his missing box, but he just sat there. Smiling.

  "Um, thank you for coming in to check on me."

  Tyler's smile wavered for a second. "Your room was dark and quiet. I didn't want to disturb so I didn't."

  "You didn't come in and cover me with a comforter?" I asked.

  "Wow, you must have been so tired, little Daughter. You can't even remember tucking yourself in!" He chuckled and went back to his papers.

  So Tyler didn't know about the tobacco. I felt a momentary surge of relief until I had a sudden thought. If Tyler didn't put the comforter on, who did? The coal man's face behind my window pane flashed in my mind and my stomach sank like a rock.

  "So, I was thinking that you needed some clothes for tonight's festival," Tyler was saying. "I could have something sent up from town, or you could go down there yourself and pick something out."

  "That's very kind of you," I started uncomfortably. "But I wouldn't want you to spend any money on me."

  "Well, excuse me for saying but you are not exactly fresh as a daisy," Tyler replied, blowing on his tea. "You can't wear sneakers and I could put your jeans in the wash." He raised his eyebrows hesitantly. "Be my doll for the day?"

  "I've just about lived in these jeans. It'd be nice to be able to wear something clean." I looked down at myself and picked at the outfit helplessly. "But perhaps something good for moving? Walking clothes?"

  "A nice dress would be best, really," he said, and then his face lit up. "Well, why don't I send you down to town? It might do you some good to get your bearings."

  "Get my bearings?" I asked.

  Tyler didn't hear me as he picked up his pen again. "I have a lot of planning to do for later." I nodded. "But it's a small town. You can go down on your own and I promise you won't get lost."

  "I don't really feel like going down there," I said quickly. "And a dress would probably be a bit unnecessary. If you're busy, I could get those plans together." He looked at me blankly. "Those maps. And weapons."

  "Well, if you would like. But I have so much to do and the house is musty and dark. You could go make some friends downtown."

  Why wasn't he listening?

  "Tyler, I'm leaving tomorrow anyway," I said.

  "Ah, yes. Well, that's true," Tyler said slowly. He tapped his pen on his paper distractedly. "I will just send for the clothes then, shall I?" He smiled good-naturedly. "And we'll set you off into your Reign Walk first thing tomorrow morning."

  He pushed his chair away from the table and stuck some of the papers in a briefcase.

  "I'll be moving into the office. Now that you're up, I'm sure you'll want some breakfast and I don't think I can get much work done with someone cooking." He waved his hand to the stove. "You can help yourself to anything. If you need me, the office is the third doorway to the right."

  Tyler patted his briefcase and walked out into the hall. I sat in the kitchen until I heard the office door close somewhere else in the house and felt my breath flood uncontrollably out of my lungs.

  Everything about that conversation left a sour taste in my mouth.

  Tick tock, tick tock . . .

  I suddenly felt tempted to hurl a rock at whatever stupid clock was making that incredibly annoying racket!

  God, this kitchen is so small . . .

  I sat down at the table slowly and put my head in my hands, trying to quell the rising panic in my chest. What the hell was happening to me?

  In the dark of the forest, Lucky Creek was a haven from Cirrus, and Tyler a bumbling, mourning father. But in the light of day . . . it was suffocating.

  I looked at the clock and the early hour. I couldn't stay for some festival. Last night it had seemed kind of fun, but an urge was itching though my limbs to move forward so intensely I wanted to physically scratch it. It felt like the Walk was on pause but in reality, this all counted towards my time. I couldn't find someone I wasn't looking for.

  I'm sure Tyler will understand, I said to myself, bracing my palms on the table. He's what Marty was telling me about: an ally. I'll tell him now. Get it over with.

  As I wal
ked out of the kitchen into the downstairs hallway to his office, I noticed that Tyler had dropped one of his papers on the way to the office. It was lying by the hall table like a half-curled dead spider.

  In black markings was the outline of a person, with certain curious markings. Arrows pointed to places such as the elbows and knees and little notes were scratched on the side. In red pen a girl's haircut and dress had been drawn over the figure.

  I frowned. It looked like a drawing of a costume designer or dressmaker. It certainly didn't look like a plan for a festival tent or stage. A piece of cloth had been pinned to the edge of the paper, as if Tyler did indeed intend to make a costume. It was a dark blue with small, white flowers.

  I walked down the hall to the office door. I knocked and waited.

  "Come in."

  Tyler's office was nothing more than a small room with a desk and thin rug. His papers were spread out across the surface in a busy, attractive manner and he was marking up another plan with his red pen. He looked up pleasantly.

  "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. I rocked forward on the balls of my feet.

  "You dropped this in the hall." I opened the page to show him. "Do you sew?" I didn't wait for him to answer and therefore, didn't see his face suddenly darken. "Look, Tyler, I'm so sorry but I'm starting to feel as if I –"

  He stood up from his desk quickly and his chair pushed back against the wood with an almighty screech. The sound stopped me mid-sentence and the room was suddenly plunged into a feeling of dark shadow.

  Tyler was hunched above his desk, his jaw working furiously.

  Tick tock, tick tock . . .

  I lurched back in confusion as Tyler strode over and snatched my wrist, wrenching the paper from my hands.

  "Ow, Tyler!" I exclaimed.

  "Don't you ever look at my papers again," Tyler said in a low voice. "They are for my eyes alone."

  "You're hurting me." His animosity had me pinned to the floor, frozen there staring at Tyler's cold, furious face. "Please let go," I whispered.

  "Did you read it?" Tyler asked, his voice shaking. I hurriedly shook my head. "You saw nothing?" His eyes were so angry and frightened, like an animal backed into a corner. His lips trembled as his fingers tightened around my wrist painfully. I whimpered pathetically and with a snort he threw back my wrist like it burned. "Do you have any idea what I would have had to do if you had read that paper?" He said quietly.

  We looked at each other. I was going to be sick.

  "No. No, I don't suppose you do." He pointed to the door dismissively. "Get out now."

  I turned around quickly and ran out of the office and up the stairs. My mind fleetingly screamed Front door! Front door! but my feet took me down the hall back into my room. The comforter was scrunched in an untidy heap on the bed where I had left it. I threw myself headfirst onto the mess and let my heart slow down.

  What the hell was that?

  I felt confused. And hurt. But most of all genuinely terrified. I had seen a rage in Tyler, a rage that was so unlike the cheeriness and normality that I had liked about him. I rubbed my throbbing wrist and cringed, remembering his eyes; those wild, cold eyes that scrutinized how much I could have seen. How much I understood. Understood of what? A stupid costume?

  The coal man flashed across my mind and my head snapped up, convinced his face would be at the window. But it was only the clear, blue sky that looked back at me through the glass.

  What had he done? Tipped over the box?

  Sitting up, I felt around under the comforter. Where was it? Where is it?!

  My heart raced as I threw aside the comforter and pillows, I don't know why. I spotted the box lying closed on the floor by the edge of the bed and scooped it up from the ground. My hands trembled as I slowly cracked open the top and let the smell of sweet tobacco wash over me. Buried underneath the soft brown leaves were those photographs that I hadn't bothered to look at. The white edges peeked out innocently but I was too scared to pick them up.

  My arms moved on their own accord, jerking the open wooden box upside down onto the bed like throwing an angry wasp out the window. The contents spilled across the white bed sheet, scattering clumps of tobacco and the backs of antique photographs with scrawled writing. I quickly flipped them over. And as my heart turned cold and my eyes clouded over, I moved quickly to the side of the bed to avoid the faces.

  The faces. The dozen or so faces of little girls sat patiently on benches by ornamental ferns. Each dressed in the same dress. The same white ankle socks and the same plaited hair, parted down the middle in a clean, straight line. Each unsmiling.

  I slowly turned to the back of the photos again to read the writing, my eyes struggling to focus but then more and more as each name started to run together.

  Tilly. Elizabeth. Bettie. Mary-Lou. There was even a Margaret like me.

  All of these girls. Where did they come from and why did Tyler have their pictures in his bedroom? And where were they?

  'She drank bleach.'

  Oh holy hell, this was bad. This was really, really bad.

  I put my face in my hands. The noxious panic began to sweep over me, but I couldn't allow it. There must be an explanation. There is no need to panic. No need. To panic.

  As a whistle drifted up in the wind and I willed my cool composure to take over the situation, I held back my tears and wished dearly that the train would come and take me away again, away from the town of Lucky Creek.

  Chapter 10

  I stayed upstairs for as long as I could. I sat on my bed rubbing my hand over and over the gold circle of the necklace. I willed it to comfort me. I willed the coal man to come back and take me away. I checked my knife again and again in my pocket. I had never killed anyone before in my life. God, I had wanted to. But of course, I had never. Would I really be able to do it now?

  Of course the window was locked. Of course there was no other way out of house except the front door.

  But when I walked quietly downstairs, Tyler was talking to a visitor at the door. He seemed to be an old-fashioned mail-man, with a crisp blue suit and peaked cap. He didn't notice me behind Tyler's back; he looked straight at Tyler and spoke in a low voice. Crisp. Clean. Unsmiling. Tyler laughed agreeably as the man touched his cap-brim and left the porch.

  Tyler closed the door and looked up at me standing frozen in the middle of the stairs.

  "Well, hello there! You disappeared for a while, didn't you?" Tyler said with an innocent smile. I didn't see anything of what I had seen this morning. He seemed entirely back to normal. "Did you take a bath? Or a nap?"

  I didn't know what to say so simply nodded. Tyler climbed a few steps up and tossed me a package. I tried hard not to flinch.

  "These are your clothes. The mail-man was kind enough to deliver them here. Wasn't that kind?"

  "It was very nice of him," I said. "Tyler, thank you very much for your hospitality . . ."

  "Oh Maggie, now don't even mention it."

  "As much as I would like to come to your festival, I think the best idea is for me to miss it and leave today." I said it all very quickly in a single breath and watched as Tyler's smile faded into a frown.

  "You're angry at me, aren't you?" he asked.

  "No," I replied quietly, but Tyler shook his head.

  "Yes, you are. I was rash with you this morning. I didn't mean to be." He walked into the kitchen and put the mail on the table. "You can have the paper. It's right here." Tyler pulled out the costume diagram and carried it back over to me. "It was nothing more than my thoughts on your outfit. I wanted it to be a surprise. I overreacted."

  I took the paper from Tyler's hands. He seemed pleased that I did, but his face faded into pain as he sunk down on the bottom step.

  "I have a short temper and frankly, it's something that has given me reservations about certain things in my life that I would dearly love."

  "Oh."

  "Do you know what I would love?"

  "No."

&nbs
p; "I would dearly love to have another child. I feel like I could be a very good father." Tyler looked dreamily off into space and gave a small sigh. "Don't you think I could be a good father?"

  "Sure," I whispered. Tyler sighed again.

  "I think so, too. I'm glad you understand, Maggie." He looked at me and smiled. "It's such a pleasure having you here. Why don't you go and try on the clothes? We'll be leaving in a couple of hours."

  "Tyler, I'm sorry but I need to go."

  "Oh please, Maggie! You can leave right after the festival. I've washed your old clothes and packed your supplies in a special pack. It's all ready for you to set out." Tyler took my hand and his grip was firm. He looked pleadingly into my eyes. I tried to pull my hand away but his grip tightened and his face turned hard.

  Before I could process the action my hand had whipped the knife out of my pocket. The scene froze. Tyler stared down the blade and slowly his face softened into ambivalence and disdain.

  "Where did you get that, Maggie?" he asked in a low voice. "You said you had no weapons. You lied."

  "You lied," I hissed. "Who is Bettie? And Elizabeth and Lottie and all the other girls in your tobacco box?"

  "Really Maggie? Really?!" Tyler's fist flashed out of nowhere and the side of my head exploded into stars. As my weight fell downwards, Tyler forced the knife out of my hand. He threw it casually behind his shoulder and pushed me up against the wall.

  "This is a no-brainier, Maggie. The Reign Walk is over. You will go upstairs. You will put on the dress. And you will come back downstairs when you decide to act like a lady."

  Tyler let my hand go and pushed the package into my hands. An inch away from his eyes, I saw that the cheer and enthusiasm I had admired before was manic. Madness. It was practically seeping from between his eyes and running down his face in course, chaotic streams of crazy.

  I walked slowly back upstairs and turned the corner on Tyler's patriarchal stance. I sat on my bed and unwrapped the stiff, brown paper. Inside was a blue gingham dress with white flowers, just like I had seen on the paper. The stitching was neat and there was no tag. There was also a pair of leather button-up boots.