Endurance (A Novel of Terror)

by Jack Kilborn

  “Good. Now use your peripheral vision when you’re running over the rocks, so you don’t have to keep your head down. Keep your eyes ahead of you, but not your entire focus.”

  “I can try.”

  Grandma took off, JD running alongside her. Kelly trailed behind, doing as Grandma said, and found she could move much quicker. She looked around for the man in the overalls, but only saw foliage.

  Kelly smiled, relaxing a little. The summer breeze smelled like pine trees and wild flowers, and she enjoyed the stretch and pull in her hamstrings and quads. It was a brief run, barely even a warm-up, before Kelly caught up to Grandma on a crest.

  “Hey,” Kelly said. “JD let you walk him.”

  Grandma wasn’t even out of breath. “Can you hear it now?”

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  Kelly heard it. A hissing, splashing sound.

  “The waterfall?”

  Grandma nodded. “Which direction is it in?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Close your eyes. Open your ears.”

  Kelly shut her eyes and listened. The sound seemed to be coming from no particular direction.

  “Try turning around. Tune out everything else.”

  Kelly shifted slightly. She spun in a slow circle, eventually locking in on the direction of the water. When she opened her eyes, she was grinning.

  “It’s this way,” Kelly said, bounding off into the woods.

  She jogged down a hill, around a bend, and then to a clearing, skidding to a stop because the ground simply ended. Kelly felt her stomach sink, staring down off the side of a sheer cliff. She wasn’t good with heights, and even though she could swim three hundred laps in the school pool she was terrified of diving boards. Standing on ledges just wasn’t her thing.

  Then she saw the waterfall.

  It was gigantic, at least fifty feet high. The vertigo made her back up two steps.

  “Lovely,” Grandma said.

  Kelly hadn’t even heard the old woman come up beside her.

  “I don’t really like heights.”

  “Your eyes can make you afraid of things you shouldn’t be afraid of. Are you standing on solid ground?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you think you should trust more, your eyes, or the solid ground?”

  “The ground.”

  “So trust the ground and let your eyes enjoy the view.”

  Kelly trusted the ground and stared at the waterfall. A fine mist hovered overhead and made a double rainbow in the rays of the setting sun. It was prettier than a postcard, and not so scary anymore.

  “Is this what Vietnam looked like?” Kelly asked. Then she immediately regretted it. According to Mom, Grandma never talked about the war. Kelly knew she was there for four years as a combat nurse, but that was all.

  “Parts of it. Parts if it were so beautiful it hurt.”

  “Is that where you learned that kung fu stuff?”

  “It’s karate. And no, I learned that after my tour ended. Let’s go back, see how Letti is doing with that tire. Can you find the way?”

  “I dunno. I don’t think so.”

  “Try it. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself. If you get confused, see if you can spot any of our footprints. The ground is soft and we made quite a few.”

  Grandma’s eyes were serious, but kind.

  “How come you never smile?” Kelly asked. She watched Grandma’s eyes get hard again, and regretted the question.

  “It happened during the war,” Grandma said. “They shot my smile off.”

  What? They shot her smile off?”

  Then Grandma winked.

  Kelly grinned, took a final, unsteady glance at the waterfall, then bounded back into the woods. Nothing looked particularly familiar, but she managed to spot a footprint so she knew she was on the right track, even though the footprint seemed rather large. Then she recognized a big tree she’d passed earlier, and she altered her course, picking up speed and growing more confident.

  Abruptly, something snagged her shoulder, pulling her off her feet. Kelly landed on her butt, hard, and someone covered her mouth before she could yell out.

  “Shh.” Grandma was kneeling next to her, her hand over Kelly’s face. “Stay calm.”

  Kelly didn’t understand what was happening, and she was about to protest, when she noticed JD. The dog was crouching down, ready to pounce, his teeth bared. All the hair on the dog’s neck stood out like spikes. Kelly followed the animal’s gaze and saw—

  —trees. Nothing but trees.

  Then something moved. Ever so slightly, but enough for Kelly to distinguish the body from the surrounding foliage.

  It was a man, hiding behind a giant oak. The one in the overalls she’d seen earlier. He was incredibly tall, wearing a plaid shirt and a baseball cap. There was something wrong—something horribly wrong—with his face. And his eyes…

  His eyes look red.

  The man stared right at Kelly, and she’d never been more frightened in her life.

  JD barked, making Kelly jerk in surprise.

  “Hello,” Grandma said to the stranger. “We were looking at the waterfall. I hope we’re not trespassing on your property. If so, we’re sorry.”

  Grandma didn’t sound sorry. She sounded tough as a barrel of hammers.

  The man continued to stare. He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

  What happened to his face?

  “We’ll be on our way.”

  JD barked again, then began to growl.

  “Easy, boy. We don’t want you biting any more strangers.”

  JD had never bit anyone. But Kelly understood why Grandma said that; it might scare the man off.

  But the man didn’t look scared. He simply shifted from one leg to the other, revealing something he was holding in his hand.

  Oh, shit.

  That’s a shotgun.

  “Let’s go,” Grandma whispered. “Fast.”

  Kelly didn’t have to be told twice. The two of them sprinted, JD alongside, down the hill in a zigzag pattern. Kelly kept expecting to hear a gunshot, and could almost feel a cold area between her shoulder blades where she was sure the bullet would hit. Mom had what she called a varmint gun, a small .22 she used to scare off the raccoons who liked to get into the garbage cans. Kelly knew the damage that could do.

  This man’s gun was a lot bigger.

  Not soon enough, they broke through the tree line and were back on the road. Kelly looked left, then right, and couldn’t see their car.

  Had the man gotten Mom?

  “This way,” Grandma said. “Over the crest.”

  Grandma’s strides were long, and Kelly matched her. On the asphalt she had a lot more confidence, the hard road under her feet solid and familiar. She sprinted ahead, feeling her muscles stretch, JD easily matching pace as he galloped alongside. The hill was a gradual incline, tough on the shins, and after two hundred meters her breath came faster.

  Is this the right way? What if Grandma is wrong? What if Mom isn’t over the crest?

  She took a quick glance over her shoulder, but the strange man wasn’t behind them.

  What was wrong with his face? It was all messed up.

  They were almost to the top of the hill now. Ten steps. Five steps. Kelly willed her mom to be there. Not only there, but with the tire already fixed so they could get the hell away from here. Kelly pulled even further in front, reaching the crest, staring down on the winding road and—

  Nothing. Mom and the car weren’t there.

  Then JD took off, pulling the leash out of Kelly’s hand, jerking her forward and almost making her fall. He tore ahead, running around the bend, out of sight.

  Kelly glanced at Grandma, who was matching her pace. The old woman stared back, her face solemn.

  “The car…” Kelly sputtered.

  “It’s ahead.”

  “JD…”

  “Ahead.”

  Kelly felt like crying. “I’m�
� scared.”

  “Use it. Everyone gets scared. Don’t let it paralyze you. Your body, or your mind.”

  Kelly lengthened her stride again; a dangerous move since they were going downhill. If she hit some loose gravel, or stumbled somehow at this speed, it would cause more damage than just a skinned knee.

  “Kelly. Slow down.”

  But Kelly didn’t slow down. Her feet pressed against the street faster and faster, and Kelly became off-balance on the decline. She pitched forward, envisioning her chin cracking against the pavement, her face scraping down to the teeth and cheekbones, her knees breaking and head bursting—

  “Kelly!”

  Grandma caught Kelly’s shirt, steadying her. Kelly took a few more unsteady steps and then slowed down enough to keep her balance.

  They pushed through the turn, Kelly hoping she’d see Mom and the car and JD, fearing she’d see the strange man with the gun.

  But there was nothing ahead but empty road.

  “We went… the wrong… way,” Kelly said between pants. She began to slow down even more.

  “Keep running.”

  Kelly wished she’d paid more attention on the car ride up. None of this seemed familiar. The road. The woods. The mountains. It all looked the same.

  “Is this…” she gasped, “the right road?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t talk. Run.”

  Grandma pulled in front. Kelly fell back five paces, thinking Grandma was wrong, thinking about turning around and going the other way.

  Then they rounded another turn and Kelly saw their car.

  JD left Mom’s side and came sprinting over to Kelly. He knew not to jump on her, and instead doubled back and ran with her until they reached the car.

  “I changed the tire. Did you and Grandma enjoy—” Mom squinted at Kelly. “Babe, are you okay?”

  “There was a man,” Kelly huffed and puffed. “His face was messed up. He had a gun.”

  Grandma coasted to a stop alongside them.

  “Florence? What happened?”

  Mom hadn’t called Grandma Mom since Dad died.

  Grandma blew out a deep breath. “I’m not sure. Could have been a hunter. Could have been some hillbilly protecting his whiskey still. Scary-looking fellow, wasn’t he, Kelly?”

  “Did he threaten you?” Mom asked.

  Grandma shook her head. “Kept his gun down. Didn’t say a word. Might not be used to talking, though. He had a severe harelip, probably a cleft palate. Talking would be difficult.”

  “Should we call the police?”

  “For having a gun in West Virginia? They’d laugh us off the phone.”

  “Are you okay, Kelly?”

  Kelly felt like crying, and Mom showing concern made the emotion even stronger. But she sucked it in, got her breathing under control.

  I’m almost a teenager. Teenagers don’t cry.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Grandma folded her arms. “She said she’s fine, Letti. Kelly’s almost a teenager. Quit treating her like a child.”

  Kelly matched Grandma’s pose, taking strength from it. “Yeah, Mom. Now can we get going?”

  Mom made a face, then looked at her watch. “We’ve got another forty minutes before we get to the bed and breakfast. Do you need to pee?”

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Geez, Mom.” She walked over to the car and climbed into the backseat.

  Surprisingly, Grandma got in next to her.

  “Let’s let JD ride shotgun. I’d like to see that game you’re playing on your iPod.”

  “Uh, sure.”

  As Mom pulled back onto the road, Kelly showed Grandma Zombie Apocalypse.

  “It’s really hard. I can’t get past level 65.”

  “Sure you can,” Grandma said. “You just haven’t yet.”

  Kelly attacked the level with a frenzy. For some reason, more than anything, she wanted to prove Grandma right.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Novachek. All of our rooms are booked.”

  Deb Novachek kept her anger in check. She was an expert at that.

  “But I have a reservation. I confirmed it yesterday.”

  The concierge looked pained. He was a tall, pasty man with a bad hairpiece that looked like an animal was perched on his head. His nametag read Franklin. “I realize that. And I humbly apologize for the inconvenience. We overbooked. Your room will be available tomorrow morning, and we’ll upgrade you to a suite at no extra cost.”

  “That’s not good enough. Tomorrow is the pre-event briefing. I have to be there early.”

  Deb fleetingly considered playing the special needs card, but she knew she’d sleep in her car before she did that. Hell, she’d sleep on the street with a newspaper blanket before she asked for preferential treatment.

  “I really wish there was something I could do. I’m very sorry.”

  “I’d like to speak to the manager.”

  “Miss Novachek, I am the manager. I’ll not only upgrade to a suite tomorrow, but we’d be happy to pay for it to make up for the inconvenience.”

  “That doesn’t do me any good tonight.”

  Deb felt like crossing her arms, but resisted. It messed with her balance.

  “Unfortunately, this seems to happen every year at triathlon time. Every hotel and motel in town is filled to capacity.”

  Deb frowned. “Could I room with another contestant staying here?”

  Franklin reached for the phone. “That would be up to them. If you give me a name, I can connect you.”

  “I don’t know anyone here. This is my first time at Iron Woman.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t just start randomly calling guests.” He put the receiver down and tapped his pale chin, apparently thinking. “You know, there is a bed and breakfast, forty miles out of town. It’s so out of the way, it probably has some rooms available. Would you like me to check for you?”

  Deb took a deep breath, let it our slow. “Yes. Please.”

  “I’ll need to find the number. I’ll be right back.”

  Franklin waddled off. Deb turned away from the check-in counter and faced the lobby. It was crammed full of people. Some of them spectators. Several of them reporters, complete with video cameras and microphones. A few of the women were obviously athletes, and Deb considered approaching some of them, asking if they’d like to share a room. But she didn’t move.

  Deb valued her privacy. Social situations were painfully awkward for her.

  Which is why she quickly turned away when she saw the man staring.

  Men stared at her all the time. So did women. And kids. Even animals did, somehow able to sense something was wrong with her.

  But this man wasn’t gawking. He had a playful smile on his face, and his eyes crinkled when she caught him looking.

  This wasn’t a gawker. This was a flirt.

  Deb preferred the gawkers. She unconsciously glanced down at her cosmetic legs. They were covered by sweatpants. Unless someone was paying close attention, they couldn’t tell, even when she was walking.

  “Hello.”

  The voice startled her, and she turned around. Mr. Flirt was in her personal space, less than a foot away from her, a sly grin on his face. Deb noted his breath smelled like cinnamon, and he was even cuter up close. Strong chin with a bit of stubble. A roman nose. Neatly cut hair, dark and parted on the side. Sort of like a younger George Clooney.

  “Can I help you?” Deb’s voice came out clipped, and a bit squeaky.

  “Are you Debra Novachek?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Mal Deiter. Sporting Digest. My office has been in touch.”

  He offered his hand.

  So he’s not a flirt. He’s a reporter. Which means he knows about my legs.

  Deb didn’t know if that made it less awkward, or more awkward. For some reason, she had pictured a woman interviewing her. Or
some pudgy old man. Not someone good-looking.