Creed

by Trisha Leaver

  “Abram!” I said, hoping to jar him back to the present.

  “Leave him,” Joseph said. “We don’t have time.”

  I knew what he meant. It would take time to get through to Abram, to convince him to leave his brother in the middle of the street and come with us. Precious minutes we didn’t have.

  Thirty-Seven

  The three of us kept to the edges of the fields, running parallel to the main road. I kept looking back, searching for headlights or torches or God knows whatever else those people might come after us with.

  The lights from the town faded, but I kept running until my legs burned and my sides ached. Then I ran some more.

  There was nothing in front of us but darkness. The moon was lost, the clouds closing in long before the cold. I fell to the ground, struggling to catch my breath as the first snowflakes began to fall. Neither Mike nor Joseph urged me to move, and I sat there, shaking. I’d been surviving on fear and terror alone. Given the space to breathe and the illusion of safety, everything came crashing down, a massive implosion focused solely on me.

  My body shuddered with sobs so intense they lacked sound. My chest was ripped in pain, tears searing paths down my frozen cheeks. Mike tried to comfort me, laying his cheek on the top of my head and whispering something soothing.

  “I left him there,” I choked out. I’d spent hours plotting and planning a way to get Luke out, agreeing to anything and everything. Then I’d left him there, cold and alone.

  “We didn’t have a choice, Dee,” Joseph said.

  I didn’t agree. We’d had plenty of choices, but somehow we’d managed to make all the wrong ones.

  Mike took my hand, clasping it tighter when I went to pull away. “You’re going to listen to me, Dee, then you’re going to get up and keep going.” I nodded and let my hand relax into his. “Luke made me swear that no matter what happened to him, I’d get you out. He wouldn’t want to slow us down, wouldn’t want you to waste one second sitting here worrying about him.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t—”

  Mike put a finger to my lips, silencing me. “I can’t do this alone, Dee. I need you to get up and walk. Luke needs you to get up and walk.”

  My shoulders heaved in time with my sobs. Mike was right. From the first time I told Luke about my past, broke down and shared with him the disgusting details that rotted me from the inside out, he’d understood. He’d promised me it was going to be okay, that somehow I’d be okay, that he would make sure of it. Every fiber of my being believed him back then; I still did now. Luke would protect me no matter what it cost him. But I’d never expected it to be his life.

  What seemed like an eternity ticked by as we struggled through the cold night. We passed our first town about five hours out. Its twinkling lights flickered in the distance, causing a familiar sense of unease to sweep over me. What were the names of the towns Elijah’s brothers controlled? Had Joseph ever told me?

  Paranoia settled into my body like a dull ache, and I made my way farther away from the road. I wasn’t getting near those lights. I’d trust nobody but the two boys standing next to me. That was my new creed … at least until I got home, till I heard Mrs. Hooper’s gentle voice promising me everything would be okay.

  “What are the names of those towns your uncles work in?” I asked.

  “You want to head in, see if they have a phone or a police department or something?” Mike asked before Joseph had a chance to answer.

  “No,” I replied quickly. “We don’t know anything about that town … about the people.”

  Mike didn’t fully know what we were up against. He hadn’t been at the chapel; he hadn’t seen Elijah’s brothers.

  Joseph flashed me a dark look, confirming my fears. We were too close. “I think we need to get as far out as possible. At least to the next county if we can. Then we need to find you some help,” he said.

  We made it two more hours before Mike waved us to a stop and sank to the ground. His breathing was labored, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his face. The strip of fabric we’d tied around his shoulder had turned completely red; I carefully peeled it away, praying for the best while expecting the worst. Blood trickled out, the wound swollen and angry. I prodded at the unbroken skin. It was warm, hot, despite the bits of snow landing on it.

  Mike grabbed my hand and growled, “Stop poking at it, Dee. It’s hurts.”

  “I know, but—”

  “But nothing. Leave it alone.”

  Joseph tore a strip of fabric from the hem of his shirt and pushed me out of the way. “Let me re-tie it. You’ve got to keep pressure on it or you’ll lose too much blood.”

  “Don’t touch me.” Mike’s words were laced with so much hatred that I cringed. I felt bad for Joseph. He was trying, but no matter what he did, he’d never be able to redeem himself. Not to Mike anyway.

  Joseph quickly recovered himself and turned toward me, calm and completely in control. I shuddered as I watched his entire tone shift, like one mask was being traded for another. Thoughts of Elijah floated to the surface and I quickly pushed them away. I didn’t have the time or the strength to consider their similarities, never mind acknowledge that Elijah’s blood ran through Joseph’s veins.

  He handed me the piece of fabric he’d torn from his shirt, motioning me toward Mike. “Wrap it around his shoulder and tie it off tight so he doesn’t continue to bleed.”

  I looked at Mike for permission. “Fine, but make it quick. We got to keep moving,” he said.

  I folded the make-shift bandage in half and gently laid it against Mike’s shoulder. He swore and jerked back. Gritting my teeth, I pressed my hand against the wound, ignoring his sharp inhale of breath and pained expression.

  Blood quickly seeped through the bandage, coating my fingers as I applied pressure. I wished Mike had let his guard down long enough for Joseph to handle this.

  Joseph carefully doled out directions, and I couldn’t help but wonder how often he had done this exact same thing. How many times had he patched someone up, or stopped someone’s bleeding? I wondered if he’d done it to his mother, to himself.

  Mike’s pace was painfully slow for the remainder of the walk. His color was fading, his words becoming nearly inaudible. He stopped suddenly and hunched over, retching up nothing but stomach bile. It was that smear of red mingled with his spit that changed my mind, had me willing to venture out onto the road and flag down the next car that passed by.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Mike said as he swiped an arm across his mouth.

  He lowered himself to the ground and propped himself up against a tree stump. His eyes momentarily fluttered shut, and I panicked. Reaching down, I grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard.

  “Mike? What do you mean you can’t do this anymore? You have no choice.”

  “That hurts,” he mumbled, sliding away from me. His tears were clear, carving their way through the dirt and blood on his face. “Go, Dee. Leave me here and go.”

  “No.” I tucked my shoulder under his arm and tried to get him to stand. As long as we were moving, no matter how slowly, we had a chance.

  “You don’t get it, Dee. I’ve got nothing to go back to. Luke is dead. He’s dead.”

  I wound my fingers into Mike’s and squeezed. Like him, I knew what getting back meant for both of us. Everything at school, at home, even the stupid candy bar wrappers on the floor of my car would remind us of Luke.

  “That’s not true,” I said, reaching for something, any promise of a future that would get him to keep going. “You have me.”

  “Get up,” Joseph said to me, and I did, then waited to see what he planned to do. He bent down next to Mike and stared at him, silently demanding him to move.

  “No. Leave me. I’m dead weight anyway. Besides, I promised Luke I’d keep her safe.” Mike paused and choked back a sob. “You want to help, yo
u want to be forgiven, then leave me here and make sure she gets home.”

  “And you think that will absolve me? Watching you stay behind and die?”

  Mike went to respond, to answer Joseph’s rage with a bit of his own, but Joseph waved him off. “I don’t want to hear it. You promised your brother you’d get her home. You! And that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Now get up.”

  Recognition flashed violently across Mike’s face, and I held out my hand, willing what little strength I had left into him. “Please,” I begged. “We’re so close. So close.”

  Joseph half-carried Mike the rest of the way, his arm tucked under Mike’s shoulder’s so he could bear most of his weight. Dawn broke, and only then did the chill wrapping around me begin to fade and exhaustion take over. I struggled to remember the days, the hours, I’d spent trapped in Elijah’s hold. They were melding together into one big blur.

  “What day is it?” I asked as I slowed to a crawl.

  “Sunday,” Joseph replied. “Why?”

  I shrugged. The information was of absolutely no importance, but the knowledge was soothing nonetheless.

  “Look,” Mike said a moment later, his finger pointing to the road sign ahead.

  I squinted, then took a dangerous few steps into the open and read it. Henley.

  I recognized that name. I didn’t know a soul in that town, but I definitely recognized the name. Luke and Mike had played there less than a month ago. I’d driven the whole two hours to watch them get their asses kicked, only to be told that they couldn’t ride home with me. Apparently school policy dictated they take the team bus to and from all games.

  Henley was a far cry from the safety of home, but it was a start. This was our best chance of getting Mike somewhere safe, somewhere where absolutely no one related to Elijah Hawkins could touch us.

  It was early. The walkways were littered with morning’s papers, the streets quiet. A dog barked, its owner swearing at it for making too much noise. That sound alone, that foul four-letter word shattering the morning silence, let me know that we had re-entered the land of the sane.

  But I wasn’t going to ask the dog’s owner for help or knock on any doors. I was going to keep walking, keep dragging Mike and Joseph with me until I found the only familiar place in this town—the high school.

  I climbed the wide steps to the front doors of the school. I’d walked through them three weeks ago in search of a bathroom. The school was active then, kids roaming the halls while the janitor worked around them, sweeping the floors.

  Since it was Sunday, the school was locked up tight, but I yanked on the doors anyway before settling down on the front steps. My frozen body sank into the concrete, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, I closed my eyes and let my mind go. I had every intention of staying right there until somebody found us.

  Thirty-Eight

  They said I slept for two days straight, woke up screaming Elijah’s name. It was Mrs. Hooper’s soothing voice and the familiar scent of her lavender hand cream that finally allowed my mind to clear, drove home the recognition that I was safe.

  Even then, I didn’t fight the drugs the doctors gave me. Sleep offered me an out, a safe, unconscious place where Luke was still alive, sitting beside me.

  “Hey there, Dee.”

  The familiar voice echoed through my dreams. I swore for a second it was Luke, that the strong hand stroking mine was his. I opened my eyes, a smile already forming on my lips when his face came into focus.

  “Mike?” I asked.

  “It’s me,” he said, moving from the chair to the bed. His right arm was in a sling and there were stitches across his cheek. He looked tired and beaten down, and his hair was messed up. I reached up to smooth it and he caught my hand, squeezing it gently before lowering it back to the bed.

  I glanced up at the clock hanging above the door. It was three a.m. “Are you okay?” I asked, curious as to why he was sitting here next to me and not asleep in his own room.

  He tried for a smile, but his entire expression was shadowed in grief. “We made it to Henley. You’re safe now.”

  “Did you tell them about Luke?” I asked. I didn’t remember anyone trying to question me. I didn’t know how much the doctors knew, or what part, if any, of the truth Mike had told them.

  Mike grabbed my hand and brought it to his cheek, then turned his head so I couldn’t see his pain. But I felt it, felt the steady stream of his tears covering my palm. “I’m sorry, Dee.”

  Sorry? What did he have to be sorry about? “Did you tell them? Did you tell them what happened to Luke? Did you tell them about Elijah and James?”

  “I did,” he said, turning back to me. “But they don’t believe me. Nobody does.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I told the police everything—about us running out of gas, about the irrigation shed and James. I told them everything, Dee. Everything. But they think we made it up, that we’re suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress thing.”

  That didn’t make any sense. The images in my mind were real. The feel of Luke’s dead body, his cold hands, James’s blood covering my feet … those images were too vivid, too real for me to have imagined them.

  I frantically kicked the blanket away and struggled to sit up. My arms were bandaged from wrist to elbow and I tore at the gauze, frustrated by its strength. When I had the last bit of it unraveled, I thrust my arms in Mike’s direction. They were cut up—seven nearly identical slices marring my skin, eight if you counted Elijah’s binding mark on my palm.

  “What about these? How do you explain these?”

  “They think you tried to kill yourself. That after the accident, after Luke … well, they think you did that to yourself.”

  “What accident?” I yelled. “What the hell are you talking about? There was no accident.”

  “My dad and Mr. Hooper went to Purity Springs. They spent two days there with the police, asking questions and talking to Elijah. All they found was our mangled car lodged against a tractor. The officer they talked to in Purity Springs claimed it was a car accident, that the puncture in my shoulder and Luke’s injuries are consistent with the accident.”

  Mike’s eyes met mine, and for a moment I could feel his tension, knew that the words he was about to utter were going to be bad. “According to the official report, I went through the windshield. That’s why I’m cut up.”

  “But what about Luke?” I cried, remembering his body lying there on the ground, the blood from James’s throat edging closer to his tattered jeans. “What about James? What did they say about them?”

  “They never found James. There’s no record of him or his brother at all. It’s as if they never existed.”

  I stared at Mike, stunned. Joseph had told me his father was capable of fabricating entire lives. I’d watched him do it to me. But to deny the existence of his own nephews …

  “Luke? What did they say about him?” I asked again.

  Mike sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a mindless habit that made my entire body ache for Luke. “We buried him yesterday. The medical examiner from Purity Springs did an autopsy. They cremated his body, told my parents it’d be best if they didn’t see him first.”

  “Why the hell not?” I yelled. Why wouldn’t Luke’s parents want to see him—dead or alive—one last time?

  “The report says he was thrown from the car, that he got caught up in the chisel plow we hit. He was mangled beyond recognition.”

  I knew what a chisel plow was, the rusted eight-inch shanks meant to loosen the soil. And there hadn’t been a chisel plow anywhere near our car, never mind a tractor. “That’s a lie,” I screamed.

  I got out of the bed, began the frantic search for my clothes. I wanted my shoes. I wanted a pair of jeans. I wanted to walk out of this place and back to Purity Springs so I could haul Elijah Hawki
ns back here and make him tell the truth.

  I found my muddy clogs in the room’s lone closet. Shoved in the left one was the doll Eden had given me. I took it out and brought it to my nose, inhaled the rotted scent. I tossed it to the ground; I’d drag Eden here as well if that’s what it took.

  I shoved my feet into the clogs and went about untying my hospital gown. The sooner I was dressed, the sooner I could prove that my nightmare was true.

  “They sent their apologies, you know.”

  “Who?” I asked, scanning the hallway. The only person I could see out there was the night nurse, and she was staring at her phone, laughing as she texted away.

  “Elijah. The town,” Mike answered.

  “Did you tell him to go screw himself?”

  “It’s not that easy,” he replied. I tossed my hands out, motioning for him to explain. “They managed to come up with this whole bullshit story, claimed we left Luke and wandered off in search of help. Elijah said that if he’d known there was more than one person in the car, he would’ve sent out a search party to find us, made sure we got medical care sooner.”

  I had no doubt Elijah had sent out a search party, one armed with knives and Bibles.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean, we know names and details. We wouldn’t know all that … couldn’t know that if we hadn’t been there. They can’t explain away everything that happened.”

  “He can and he did. According to city records, there’s no Elijah Hawkins. The mayor of that town is a man named John Smith. He had a wife named Abigail, but she died a few weeks ago of cancer.”

  “What about Joseph and Eden? Are there any records of them?”

  “Fourteen-year-old daughter, Evelyn. No son listed, or so my dad says.”

  I shook my head, trying hard to understand what Mike was saying. “What about Joseph? I mean, he was with us. Surely he could back up our story. Get him. Tell him—”