The Complete Bleaker Trilogy Box-set

by Jeremy Peterson

  “Want some?” he asked, holding the bag close to his chest. To Jill, it looked like sharing was the last thing on Troy’s mind.

  Jill shook her head.

  “Fine … suit yourself.”

  Troy opened the tiny bag and dipped his finger inside. With a fingernail full of crystal, Troy licked his lips in anticipation. He ingested the meth up his nose and moaned in satisfaction.

  “WOO!” Troy said, pumping his fist. “You DO NOT know what you’re missing!”

  Jill didn’t respond and Troy wasn’t waiting for one.

  “Okay, Jesus, I’m ready … tell me what to do.”

  And just like that, the pacing returned, more harried than before. “Alright, lay it on me. Talk to me, Jesus. You can do it.”

  After more alleged silence from Jesus, and more pacing from Troy, he looked to Jill and asked, “Is it getting hot in here?” He wiped at his forehead and pulled off his jacket. A few seconds later, Troy kicked off his sneakers.

  “I know you’re watching over me, Jesus. Tell me what to do, please. I don’t have all day.” He glanced back to Jill who still sat on the floor. “Am I right?” Jill only glared at him. “Okay, enough is enough. I’m fine. I’m fine. I can do this.” He walked towards the mantle until he was face to face with it. “I guess I’m on my own. That’s good, right? That means I passed a test or something? It must be, right? Right! So here it is—my big plan.”

  Jill could only stare at him, marveling at how stupid she was for falling for a man like this. “Just let me go,” she pleaded.

  “Shut up and listen. I think it’s the little douchebag … your friend; what’s his-name … he’s the reason Jesus isn’t joining us tonight. I think he’s supposed to be here. So, I’m gonna’ go get him, and drag his ass back here, and you are gonna’ sit there all nice and quiet and wait for me. Do you understand?”

  When Jill didn’t immediately respond, Troy dashed forward, bent to her level and slapped her hard across the face “Do you speak English, bitch? I said, do you understand?”

  Jill started crying. She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn’t help it. “Yes, I understand. Please … no more.”

  Troy scoffed and stood up. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? If you try to stumble outta’ here all tied up, you’ll just fall down those steps and kill yourself. I think one fall out of a tree is enough for one day, don’t you think? Do not do anything stupid. I cannot stress this enough, okay? Just sit here and wait, and you might make it outta’ here alive. But if you fuck with me … shit will get so bad.” He shook his head and closed his eyes as if he couldn’t even bear to think what would happen if she disobeyed him. “Well, let’s just say that you’ll be thankful when you’re dead. Okay?”

  Jill nodded her head vigorously.

  “Good,” Troy said, smiling. “With that settled, I’ll need to get going. Hang tight, my sexy young friend, and soon we’ll be a big happy family again.”

  Jill nodded again and hung her head, resting it between her tethered knees.

  And just like that, Troy left; slamming the door and leaving his jacket and shoes behind.

  You must run, Jill thought.

  “No! I can’t, he’ll kill me.”

  She started crying again.

  Someone will come for me.

  A part of her almost laughed at that thought.

  Are you stupid? No one is coming for you. In your whole stupid life, nobody has ever been there for you. Is your mother coming for you? Ha! Hardly, she doesn’t even know what you look like. She could be dead … she might as well be. Your Grandma? You think that old bag gives a shit what you’re up to? If she can find someone else to pick up her Menthols and keep quiet during the Steve Wilkos show, then you’ll hardly be missed. Face facts, Jill. People leave you. They don’t come for you.

  This was true, and she knew it. But if the voice was there to break her—to make her succumb to the same fears of abandonment and neglect that have haunted her since she was old enough to comprehend what that meant—then it wasn’t working. It was true; she didn’t think anyone was coming. But for the first time in her short life, she decided that she was worth saving. And screw it; if nobody else thought so, then she would do it herself.

  Jill took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Scanning the darkening room, she noticed that Troy had left behind his jacket and his shoes. “He’s crazy,” she mumbled aloud.

  Will he come back for them, or is he so stoned that he will simply just slowly freeze to death?

  She thought about how frozen-to-the-bone she felt in her thick winter coat and gloves, and she quickly corrected herself.

  He’s going to quickly freeze to death.

  “I have to get outta’ here.” She repeated those words to herself until she was convinced. “I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to die at all. I am worth something. I refuse to die like this.”

  With the lace around her ankle, Jill was only able to move her feet an inch at the most, but she used her left foot to pry at the boot on her right foot.

  It seemed hopeless at first, as she simply couldn’t get the traction she needed for the boot to slide down.

  He’ll be back any minute, and if he catches you trying to escape he’ll—

  “He’ll what?” she said aloud.

  Kill you. He’ll kill you and you know it.

  Finally, the boot began to slide down. Her heart pounded mercifully against her ribs, and she was vaguely aware of a painful throb forming behind her eyes.

  “Come on you bitch,” she said, still kicking at her shoe. Finally, it slid past her heel, and she kicked her foot. The boot went flying and instantly the extra room gave her the space she needed to make short work of her other boot. It slid off with relative ease and Jill went to work about sliding her legs from her tether. The leather chewed into her anklebones, burning the skin, but the adrenalin was flowing and she knew it was only a matter of time. She was going to be free. At least her feet were. And that’s what she needed.

  With one last effort, Jill gritted her teeth against the pain and yanked her right foot free. She grunted in excitement as the leather bootlace dropped to the floor.

  “Breathe,” she reminded herself. With her hands still tied behind her back, Jill struggled to her feet. Once up, she bent her knees, dropped her hands below her, and carefully stepped one leg at a time through her arms. Due mainly to youthful balance and flexibility, she was able to stay upright, and although her hands were still tied, at least they were no longer behind her back. She put her wrists to her mouth and began prying at the knot with her teeth.

  I’m gonna’ make it, she thought.

  Just then, as if she had jinxed herself, she heard feet on the steps outside. Without thinking, she carefully slipped behind the door and held her breath.

  “He’s fucking gone!” Came a voice from outside. “How could the little shit be gone?” It was Troy, just as she knew it would be.

  As the voice grew closer, fear seemed to swallow her, but above it all, a question nagged at her.

  Who was gone? Kevin? How could that be?

  She didn’t have much time to contemplate those questions as the door to the tree house swung open. With her feet now free, but her hands still bound, Jill hid behind the door.

  “Jill, you’re not going to believe—” He was shaking, and his words came out in small, stuttering bursts, before eventually tapering off completely as he stared at the empty spot that should have held a tied up young girl. Before he could formulate his next question, Jill slammed the door into him, knocking him to the ground. She watched as his head bounced hard off the wood floor. With a loud groan, he rolled onto his back, eyes closed. He tried to sit up, but quickly abandoned that idea.

  Run now!

  Jill heard the voice screaming in her head and she wasted no time. As she burst through the tree house door, her bare feet hit the snow and she froze.

  My shoes, she thought, and cursed under her breath.

  She scr
ambled back inside the tree house to hastily step into her boots. They no longer had laces, but she would have to make do. She would need those boots if she wanted to make it out of these woods alive and with all her toes intact.

  “Why did you do that?” Troy asked, still trying to get to his feet.

  Jill didn’t stick around to answer his stupid questions. Instead, she carefully maneuvered the icy steps and began her escape.

  For the first time in almost sixteen hours, there was no snow falling in Chaplin Hills, but the temperature was still dropping.

  “Help!” Jill screamed. She ran in the opposite direction in which they had arrived. The snow was thick and wet and threatened to steal her boots with each step.

  “Come back!” Troy had emerged from the tree house.

  Jill glanced over her shoulder. In the moonlight glow from the snow, she could see him standing at the railing. They locked eyes for a moment, before the young teacher leaped over the edge. He rolled in the snow and popped up on his feet. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said.

  Jill screamed and ran. She swatted at the icy branches that stood in her way, crying out in pain as several made it through to cut bloody channels in her frozen cheeks.

  Her feet churned up the snow, and she had to go slower than she wanted just to keep her shoes from coming off. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Troy was still coming. He didn’t have his jacket, and she assumed he was probably still without his shoes.

  He’s gonna’ get frostbite, she thought, instantly chastising herself for giving a shit. It was only because everything had happened so fast. He had not been a monster forty-eight hours ago. He had been sweet to her. At least she thought he had.

  How could I be so stupid? How could I have been so blind?

  It didn’t matter, and she knew this. He was gaining on her. If he caught her, she would die. It was that simple.

  Why am I not out of the woods yet? Am I going the right way?

  Jill knew the forest well, but the heavy snow changed everything.

  “Help!” she screamed again. But it was too early in the morning, and she was too far from civilization. She now realized that she had run in the wrong direction, and the only thing on this side of the woods was the abandoned home of the dead serial killer, Peter Taylor, and the town’s water tower.

  Too late to worry about that now.

  She thought she could see the outline of the dirt road. She took the moment to risk a look behind her, and saw Troy falling slightly behind.

  I’m gonna’ make it! I’m gonna’ live.

  She turned her head back and continued to run. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a stray branch. It was long and thick and stuck out at exactly eye level. She missed it by inches.

  That could’ve been It … that’s what could’ve killed me.

  That thought of dying by tree branch in the brain was absurd, and remarkably, a laugh bubbled out of her throat. She broke free of the forest and tripped into the road. She went headfirst and slid most of the way across the recently plowed road. Trying to catch her breath, Jill scrambled to her feet, ignoring the trickle of blood she saw in the snow from her cracked lips.

  He’s still coming, girl. Don’t let up, he’s still coming.

  Without looking back, Jill ran to the old house and swung open the screen door. Do Not Enter and No Trespassing signs were posted, but that hadn’t stopped her before and it didn’t stop her now. Both her and her friend Beth had used the location for partying and the occasional sexual liaison.

  The place smelled musty and faintly of feces. Raccoons she hoped. She raced to the front window and stared at the woods. If Troy was still following her, he would come bursting from those trees at any second.

  A second passed.

  Ten seconds passed.

  Jill was about to breathe a sigh of relief when a high-pitched scream pierced the night. Jill flinched and stepped away from the window. Dropping to the floor, she scooted her back against the wall, the window over her shoulder. The scream continued until she finally covered her ears.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Troy held Plastic Jesus in his shivering hands. It was finally speaking to him again and Troy couldn’t have been happier. The girl he was chasing was faster than he was, but it didn’t matter. He knew where she was going. Jesus had told him so. She was going to the house. It wasn’t as good as the tree house, but it would do just fine. Better than fine actually. It almost made more sense. And seemed to be proof that there was a bigger picture in play. A higher power, one might say.

  Troy continued his chase. He was falling further behind, and his bare feet were not feeling very good. In fact, they seemed to be on fire. Underneath the drugs and psychosis, Troy understood that he was in trouble. If he were lucky, he would only lose a toe or two, but deep down, he had a feeling that this was going to get worse. Probably a lot worse, but remarkably, he found he didn’t care. He had found Jesus and hadn’t even known he was looking for him.

  Amen.

  Troy could see the road through the trees, and he saw Jill’s tracks leading straight for it. He dug down deep and increased his speed, anxious to catch her, desperate to wrap his hands around her neck. He was in the middle of that thought when he saw the giant finger floating in midair.

  A finger …

  Only it wasn’t a finger. It was a tree branch of about an inch thick. The snow that had allowed Jill to spot the protruding branch a full second earlier then Troy, had been knocked off when she slapped it away.

  Troy didn’t have time to slap it away. He didn’t even have time to close his eye, before the random length of oak pierced and then popped it.

  Barely standing, holding onto the branch that disappeared into his head, Troy screamed.

  He continued screaming as he tried, yet failed, to pull the stray branch from his eye socket. Finally, with a sucking sound, Troy’s head snapped free, leaving one staring brown eye and one gaping black hole.

  He remained on his feet, swaying slightly. When he stopped screaming and regained his balance, he turned towards the house on the other side of the street. He could see it through the trees and the blowing snow. It was so close.

  So close.

  “I need a minute,” Troy said aloud. He wasn’t sure whom he was talking to, but he felt someone was listening. “I think I’m gonna’ sit down for a minute, okay?” Troy collapsed into the snow. Blood poured out of the new hole in his head and ran down his face. It splashed off his lips as he talked to himself. He scooted on his butt towards the tree that impaled him, until his back rested against it. He could still see the house across the road with his one remaining eye. Something compelled him to get up and continue after the girl, but that feeling had taken a backseat to the otherworldly fatigue that suddenly overwhelmed him.

  Still clutching the Jesus figurine, Troy reached out and gingerly touched his ruined eye socket. He pulled his hand away and quickly buried it in the snow in a desperate attempt to refuse acknowledgment. The pain in his feet and hands seemed to intensify, but Troy welcomed it. Anything to take his mind off his new problem.

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

  It’s okay, son. Just relax and breathe. Your work is done.

  “Did I do good?” he asked Plastic Jesus.

  You did fine. Just close your eye and let me do the rest. You are released from duty.

  “That’s good, because I don’t think … I think I screwed up hard this time. I don’t feel very good.”

  No more talking. Let the cold take you. Let go and follow the cold.

  Happily, Troy let go. His good eye drifted partially open as a series of shallow breaths escaped his blue, trembling lips.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Trent and Jerry didn’t speak on the way back to Chaplin Hills. Jerry reached for the Oh Shit handle a couple of times as the cruiser lost traction with the asphalt, but Trent handled each occurrence with the carefree ease of a man who had done it a million times.

 
As they drove in silence over the Chaplin Hills Bridge crossing the railroad tracks, Trent called Sheriff Virgil on the radio to explain his plans. He would be arresting Troy Baker for attempted murder. Also, he had reason to believe that the teacher was holding a young student against her will, and that his suspected current location was the old Taggard residence. Yes, the old rich guy. And no, not at his house, but his tree house. After ending his radio transmission, and without taking his eyes from the road, Trent said, “Officer Kelly is dealing with a rollover accident on Highway 30, so Virgil is my backup. I believe Barker stole Carl’s tow truck and crashed it into a ditch on the east side of the woods. I’m heading there now and, if you insist on helping, then I want you to stay there with the truck and wait for Virgil’s arrival. Can you do that?”

  Jerry stared at him without saying a word, before nodding reluctantly. “Fine.”

  “Good.” They made their way through town, and before long, Trent pulled the cruiser to the side of Harlow Road, within a few feet of the abandoned truck.

  Trent left the engine running. “Sit tight and wait for the Sheriff.”

  Jerry nodded and Trent climbed out of the vehicle. The wind gusted and filled the cruiser with snow. Trent slammed the door and stood in the cold night air. He walked past the stalled truck with a cursory glance and then stood at the first row of trees. Jerry, watching from the cruiser passenger seat, held his breath without realizing he was doing so. Finally, Trent stepped into the trees and was gone. Jerry released the breath he was holding captive, and tried to ignore the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong.

  Jerry jumped when a voice came over the radio.

  “I have the girl and she’s fine. Trent, do you read?”

  “Shit,” Jerry said. It was the Sheriff, but he didn’t know how to use the police radio. He fumbled with the buttons. “Sheriff? This is Jerry. Officer York just entered the woods to get her.” He waited for a response from the Sheriff. A few seconds passed, and Jerry cursed under his breath. He tried again, finally finding the right button.