Into the creek.
45
TANGLED ROOTS OF MANGROVE TREES SANK unseen into the black liquid, and on the opposite side, grass stretched in front of us for infinity. A sliver of moon hung in the sky, but I had never seen so many stars in my life. I could just make out the faint outline of a building close by in the darkness. Noah faced the body of still water.
“We need to cross it,” he said.
It did not take a genius to figure out what that meant. Alligators. And snakes. But really, they could have been lurking in the distance between Noah’s car and where we stood all along. So why not cross the creek? No problem.
Noah skimmed his flashlight over the surface of the water. It reflected the beam; we could see nothing beneath it. The creek was maybe thirty feet wide across, and I couldn’t tell how far it extended in each direction. The grass turned to reeds and the reeds turned to roots, obscuring my view.
Noah faced me. “You can swim?”
I nodded.
“All right. Follow me, but not until I’m across. And don’t splash.”
He walked down the steep bank and I heard him break the surface of the water. Noah carried the flashlight in his right hand and walked a good length before he had to swim. But then, he was easily six feet tall. I wouldn’t make it that far. My stomach clenched in fear for both of us, and my throat was tight with anxiety.
When I heard Noah pull himself up out of the water, my knees almost buckled with relief. He shined his flashlight up, illuminating his face in a freaky glow. He nodded, and I descended.
I slipped and slid on the bank of the creek. My feet sank into the weedy water until they hit mud. It was oddly cool, despite the steamy temperature of the air. The water reached my knees. I took a step. Then my thighs. Another step. My ribs. The surface tickled the underwire of my bra. I waded cautiously, my feet tangling in the weeds at the bottom. Noah pointed his flashlight at the water ahead of me, careful to avoid my eyes. It was brown and murky under the beam, but I swallowed my disgust and kept moving, waiting for the bottom to drop out from underneath me.
“Don’t move,” Noah said.
I froze.
His flashlight skimmed the surface of the water around me. The alligators appeared out of nowhere.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I noticed several disembodied points of light floating in the darkness on either side of me. One pair of eyes. Three. Seven. I lost count.
I was paralyzed; I couldn’t go forward but I couldn’t go back. I looked up at Noah. He was about fifteen feet away, but the water between us might as well have been an ocean.
“I’m going to get back in,” he said. “To distract them.”
“No!” I whispered. I didn’t know why I felt like I had to be quiet.
“I have to. There are too many, and we have no time.”
I knew I shouldn’t have, but I tore my eyes from Noah’s shadow and looked around me. They were everywhere.
“You have to get Joseph,” I said desperately.
Noah took a step toward the bank of the creek.
“Don’t.”
He slid down over the edge. The beam of light bounced on the water and I heard him splash. When he held the flashlight steady, several pairs of eyes disappeared. Then they reappeared. Much, much closer.
“Noah, get out!”
“Mara, go!” Noah splashed in the water, staying close to the bank but moving away from me.
I watched the alligators swim toward him, but some of the eyes stayed with me. He was making it worse, the idiot. Soon both of us would be trapped, and my brother would be alone.
I felt one of them approach before I saw it. A wide, prehistoric snout appeared three feet in front of me. I could make out the outline of its leathery head. I was trapped and panicked but there was something else, too.
My brother was missing, alone, and more frightened than I was. He had no one else to help him, no one but us. And it looked like we might not get the chance. Noah was the only one who knew where to look, and he was going to get himself killed.
Something savage stirred inside me as the black eyes stared me down. Big, black doll’s eyes. I hated them. I would kill them.
I didn’t have time to wonder where the hell that thought came from because something changed. A low, barely perceptible rumble shook the water and I heard a splash off to my left. I whirled around, dizzy with the rush of violence, but there was nothing there. My eyes darted back to where the closest animal had been. It was gone. I followed the circle of light as Noah scanned the beam over the water. There were fewer pairs of eyes; I could count them now. Five pairs. Four. One. They all slipped away, into the darkness.
“Go!” I shouted to Noah, and I pulled up my feet to swim the rest of the way. I heard Noah propel himself out of the water. I thrashed in the murk, getting caught at one point in weeds, but I didn’t stop. At the bank, my hands slid over tangled roots and I couldn’t get purchase. Noah reached down and I grabbed his hand. He pulled me up, my legs scrambling against the earth. When I was out, I let go of his hand and fell to my knees, coughing.
“You,” I sputtered, “are an idiot.”
I couldn’t see Noah’s expression in the darkness, but I heard him inhale. “Impossible,” he whispered.
I drew myself up. “What?” I asked when I’d caught my breath.
He ignored me. “We have to go.” His clothes clung to his body and his hair stood on end as he roughed his hands through it. His baseball cap was gone. Noah started walking ahead and I followed, splashing through the wet reeds. When we reached a long stretch of grass, he took off at a run. I did the same. The mud sucked at my shoes and I panted from the exertion. Pain stabbed me under my ribs and I gasped for breath. I almost collapsed when Noah stopped in front of a small concrete shed. Noah’s eyes scanned the darkness. I saw the outline of a large building far off in the distance and a cabin about forty feet away.
Noah looked at me, his face uncertain. “Which should we check first?”
My heart surged at the thought that Joseph could be so close, that we’d almost reached him. “Here,” I said, indicating the shed. I pushed past Noah and tried to turn the knob of the door, but it was locked.
I felt Noah’s hand on my shoulder and followed his eyes up to a tiny window beneath the overhang of the roof. It was basement sized; there was no way he would fit. I might not fit. The walls were smooth; there was nothing to step on to propel me up.
“Lift me,” I said to him without hesitation. Noah laced his fingers together. He glanced back once, right before I stepped into his hands. I balanced myself on his shoulders before standing fully. As soon as I could, I grabbed the sill to steady myself. It was grimy, but there was a small point of light inside. There were tools propped up against the wall, a small generator, a few blankets on the ground and then—Joseph. He was on the floor in a corner. Slumped.
I had to choke back the swell of emotions; relief mixed with terror. “He’s in there,” I whispered to Noah as I pushed on the glass. But was he okay? The window stuck, and I mumbled a prayer to any gods that might be listening to let the thing open, just let it open.
It did. I reached my arms through and wiggled the rest of my body in. I crashed to the floor headfirst and landed on my shoulder. A bubble of hot pain exploded in my side and I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming.
I opened my eyes. Joseph hadn’t moved.
I was wild with terror. I winced as I stood but gave no thought to my shoulder as I rushed over to my little brother. He looked like he was sleeping there, nestled in a pile of blankets. I inched closer, terrified that when I touched him he would be cold.
He wasn’t.
He was breathing, and normally. Flooded with relief, I shook him. His head lolled to one side.
“Joseph,” I said. “Joseph, wake up!”
I threw a light blanket off of him and saw that his feet were bound and his arms were tied in front of him. My head swam but I slapped my eyes into focus. I scanned
the room, looking for something to cut the plastic twist ties on Joseph’s wrists and ankles. I didn’t see anything.
“Noah,” I called out. “Tell me you brought a pocket knife?”
He didn’t answer, but I heard the clatter of metal as it hit the tilted glass window. And bounced back outside. I heard Noah utter a string of expletives before the knife clattered against the window again. This time, it fell to the ground inside the building. I picked it up, unfolded it, and started sawing.
My fingers were raw by the time I cut through the ties on Joseph’s hands, and they were numb when I finished working on his feet. I finally had the chance to look him over. He was still in his school clothes; khaki pants and a striped polo shirt. They were clean. He didn’t look hurt.
“Mara!” I heard Noah’s voice calling me on the other side of the wall. “Mara, hurry.”
I tried to lift Joseph up but pain knifed through my shoulder. A strangled sob escaped my throat.
“What happened?” Noah asked. His voice was frantic.
“I hurt my shoulder when I fell. Joseph won’t wake up and I can’t lift him through the window.”
“What about the door? Can you unlock it from the inside?”
And I’m an idiot. I hurried to the front of the concrete room. I turned the lock, opened the door. Noah stood on the other side of it, scaring the hell out of me.
“Guess that’s a yes,” Noah said.
My heart pounded as Noah walked over to Joseph and held him up under his shoulder. My brother was completely limp.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s unconscious, but there’s no sign of bruises or anything. He seems fine.”
“How are we going to—”
Noah withdrew his flashlight from his back pocket and tossed it at me. Then, he hoisted Joseph over his shoulders, grasping behind his knee with one hand and his wrist with the other. He walked to the door like it was nothing and opened it. “Good thing he’s a skinny bastard.”
I let out a nervous laugh as we walked through, just before the beam of car headlights washed over the three of us.
Noah’s eyes met mine. “Run.”
46
WE EXPLODED INTO FLIGHT, OUR FEET beating down the muck beneath us. The grass whipped my arms, and the air stung my nostrils. We reached the creek and I turned on the flashlight, skimming the surface of the water. It was clear, but I knew that didn’t mean much.
“I’ll go first,” I said to the water. Almost daring the alligators to come back.
I sank down into the creek. Noah slid Joseph off of his shoulders and followed, careful to keep my brother’s head above the surface. He tugged Joseph’s body under his arm as he swam.
Somewhere in the middle, I felt something brush my leg. Something large. I bit back a scream and kept moving. Nothing followed us.
Noah lifted my brother up for me to grab and I managed to hold him, barely, as my shoulder howled in agony. Noah pulled himself up the bank, took Joseph from me, lifted him again, and we ran.
When we reached Noah’s car, he unloaded Joseph into the backseat first, then climbed in. I almost collapsed inside, suddenly shivering from the wet clothes pasted to my skin. Noah turned on the heat full blast, stomped on the gas pedal and drove like a lunatic until we were safely on I-75.
The sky was still dark. The steady thrum of the pavement underneath the tires threatened to lull me to sleep, despite the excruciating pain in my shoulder. It hung wrong no matter how I settled into the seat. When Noah placed his arm around me, curling his fingers around my neck, I cried out. Noah’s eyes went wide with concern.
“My shoulder,” I said, wincing. I looked behind me in the backseat. Joseph still hadn’t stirred.
Noah drove with his knees as his hands skimmed my collarbone, then my shoulder. He explored it with his dirt-caked fingers, and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.
“It’s dislocated,” he said quietly.
“How do you know?”
“It’s hanging wrong. Can’t you feel it?”
I would have shrugged, but, yeah.
“You’re going to have to go to the hospital,” Noah said.
I closed my eyes. Faceless people appeared in the darkness, crowding my bed, pushing me down. Needles and tubes tugged at my skin. I shook my head fiercely. “No. No hospitals.”
“It has to be placed back into the socket.” Noah worked his fingers into my muscles and I choked back a sob. He drew back his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know,” I said through the tears. “It’s not that. I hate hospitals.” I started to tremble, remembering the smell. The needles. And then I let out a nervous laugh because I’d almost been eaten by giant reptiles but somehow, needles were scarier.
Noah ran a hand over his jaw. “I can put it back in,” he said in a hollow voice.
I turned in my seat and then choked back the ensuing pain. “Really? Noah, seriously?”
His face darkened, but he nodded.
“That would be—please do it?”
“It’s going to hurt. Like, you have no idea how badly it’s going to hurt.”
“I don’t care,” I said, breathless. “It would hurt just as much in a hospital.”
“Not necessarily. They could give you something,” Noah said. “For the pain.”
“I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t. Please do it, Noah? Please?”
Noah’s eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard, and then he checked the rearview mirror. He sighed and turned off the highway. When we pulled into a dark, empty parking lot, I checked the backseat. Joseph was still out.
“Come on,” Noah said, as he got out of the car. I followed, and he locked it behind us. We walked a short distance before Noah stopped under a tangle of trees behind a strip mall.
He closed his eyes, and I noticed that his hands were balled into fists. The muscles in his forearms flexed. He shot me a dark look.
“Come here,” he said.
I walked over to him.
“Closer.”
I took another step, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. My heart pounded in my chest.
Noah sighed and crossed the remaining distance between us, then stood, his chest against my back. I felt the length of his body pressed tightly behind mine and I shivered. From standing outside in my wet clothes or the feel of him behind me, I didn’t know.
He circled one arm around my chest, aligned with my collarbone, and snaked the other beneath my arm so that his hands were almost touching.
“Hold very still,” he whispered. I nodded, silent.
“Right then. One.” He spoke softly into my ear, tickling me. I could feel my heart beating against his forearm.
“Two.”
“Wait!” I said, panicking. “What if I scream?”
“Don’t.”
And then my left side ignited in pain. White-hot sparks exploded behind my eyes and I felt my knees buckle, but never felt the ground beneath me. I saw nothing but blackness, deep and impenetrable, as I floated away.
I woke up when I felt the car turn wide on the pavement. I looked up just as we passed under the sign for our exit.
“What happened?” I mumbled. My wet hair had stiffened in the artificial air, caked with filth. It crunched behind my head.
“I put your shoulder back in,” Noah said, staring at the brightening road ahead of us. “And you fainted.”
I rubbed my eyes. The pain in my shoulder had simmered to a dull, throbbing ache. I glanced at the clock. Almost six in the morning. If this was real, my parents would be awake soon.
Joseph already was.
“Joseph!” I said.
He smiled at me. “Hey, Mara.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired a little.”
“What happened?”
“I guess I just fell into the ditch by the soccer field where you guys found me,” he said.
I cast a furtive glance at Noah. He met my eyes,
and gave a slight shake of his head. How could he possibly think Joseph would buy that?
“It’s weird, I don’t even remember going there. How did you guys find me, anyway?”
Noah rubbed his forehead with his filthy palm. “Lucky guess,” he said, avoiding my stare.
Joseph looked directly at me, even as he spoke to Noah. “I don’t even remember texting you to pick me up. I must have hit my head pretty hard.”
That must have been the companion lie to the one Noah told about the soccer field. And I could tell by Joseph’s stare that he didn’t believe either one. And yet he seemed to be playing along.
So I did too. “Does it hurt?” I asked my brother.
“A little. And my stomach feels kind of sick. What should I tell Mom?”
Noah stared straight ahead, waiting for me to make the call. And it was obvious what Joseph was asking—whether he should out me and Noah. Whether he should trust us. Because I knew that if Joseph did tell our parents the lie Noah told him, my mother would lose it. Absolutely.
And she would ask questions. Questions Noah said he couldn’t answer.
I looked behind the seat at my little brother. He was dirty, but fine. Skeptical, but not worried. Not scared. But if I told him the truth about what had happened—that someone, a stranger, had taken him and tied him up and locked him in a shed in the middle of the swamp—what would that do to him? What would he look like then? A memory returned of his ashen, downcast face in the hospital waiting room after I burned my arm, of his body slumped and stiff and small in the waiting room chair. This would be worse. I could think of few things more traumatic than being kidnapped, and I knew from experience just how hard it would be to come back from something like that. If he even could.
But if I didn’t tell Joseph, I could not tell my mother. Not after my arm. Not after the pills. She would never believe me.
So I decided. I looked at Joseph in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think we should mention it. Mom will freak out, I mean—freak out. She might be too scared to let you play soccer any more, you know?” Guilt flared inside of me at the lies, but the truth could break Joseph, and I wouldn’t be the one to do it to him. “And Dad will probably sue the school or something. Maybe just use the pool shower outside, get into bed, and I’ll tell her you didn’t feel well last night and asked me to come pick you up?”
The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer Page 23
