There's Newt, who somehow knows all the town's secrets though it's forgotten about him.
There's Billy Bob, who just escaped from the Ku Klux Klan to knock me out and tie me up and threaten me in the middle of a cabin in the woods.
I could go on but I don't want to.
All I want to do is rescue Jocelyn. But I've been trying, and things have gone from bad to worse.
"And I'm feeling very sick and ill today," the singer tells me.
Yeah. Me, too.
I know I've got to stop. With everything.
I don't want anything to happen to Jocelyn. Or Mom. Or me.
Whoever is watching is doing a good job.
And it could be anybody. Jocelyn's step-uncle or a teacher at school or that weird pastor or the weird, red-headed vagrant in town with his dog or my Aunt Alice.
I don't trust anybody anymore.
I know what I have to do. But I'm not going to like doing it.
Take this out when you need it, Chris.
I hear my father's voice as if he's whispering from the other room.
It takes me a minute to find it. It's in the same bag I tossed it into before leaving Illinois. A part of me wonders why I kept it to begin with.
You might be surprised what you'll find inside.
Maybe a teeny, tiny part of me believed Dad when he gave it to me. I wouldn't admit it to him or anybody else, but I can admit it to myself
I hold the Bible in my hand.
Maybe it can help somebody else, even if it can't help me.
I know what I need to do.
I place the Bible on my desk, then turn up the music. I want to run away and bury myself in something somewhere far, far away from here.
"What's this?" Jocelyn looks at me with curious and worried eyes as she holds the Bible.
"It's a gift. A `farewell gift'?"
It's shortly before history class, and I asked to talk with her briefly. She asked in a whisper if everything was okay, and I lied. I don't want her to know about yesterday. I don't want her to know about anything regarding me.
"What do you mean, `farewell gift?"'
"You know," I say.
"Chris-"
I look around to see if anybody is spying on us. But how would I know? It could be anybody.
"I can't."
"You can't what?" Jocelyn asks, angry now.
"I can't be around you anymore."
"We already agreed to that. We said-"
"No," I interrupt. "I mean-anything. I can't."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying to me."
"Nothing happened."
"Chris, talk to me."
"No. They're watching."
"I know," she says through clenched teeth. "I've said that to you.
"But I just-I can't do anything."
"What happened? I know something happened."
I shake my head, making sure that the spies who lurk know that I'm making it very clear.
No means no.
Even if it also means breaking my heart.
"What's this for?" Jocelyn asks.
"My father gave it to me. I thought maybe it could help you."
"Because you can't?"
"Don't-"
"I can get a Bible anywhere. Where am I supposed to find another you?"
"Please don't be angry."
"Angry? I'm not angry. I'm-I'm completely baffled. I'm disappointed."
I can't tell you any more because I don't want you hurt like my mother or like me.
I want to tell her but I can't.
She can't know.
"Chris?"
"I'm sorry," is all I can say.
And I am.
I'm sorry that I can't do more or say more.
That doesn't mean I've given up trying to help her.
It just means she can't know about it.
I love this girl, and I know I will do anything to help her.
Anything.
Even if it means momentarily hurting her.
Nobody knows. Nobody's got a clue. That's the toughest part, at least to me. I want at least a handful of people to have an idea. To have some kind of knowledge.
About me.
Jocelyn started to, and that's the worst part of this.
That the very one person, the single soul that I was opening up to, now has to be the person I walk past in these hallways. The person who glances with resentment. The person who becomes a stranger like the rest of them. Like the rest of the nameless, faceless, careless fools I'm stuck around.
The rest of the week blurs by as November turns to December. Twice Jocelyn gives me letters, but I reject them. I feel like a parent grabbing a child's arm and hurting him to avoid his running into the path of an oncoming car.
I don't want to hurt Jocelyn, but I don't know what else to do.
If Stuart and Lucy and Harold all disappeared around Christmas, I only have a few weeks to find out what's going on. To try to make some sense of it and then to tell somebody who can do something about it.
I keep thinking of Sheriff Wells, of the card he gave me with his cell number on it.
Anything funny happens-anything-you call me, okay?
Being knocked unconscious and bound and gagged only to awaken in the bottom of a hole in the middle of the woods-yeah, that's pretty funny.
Funny as in hellish.
I know that Jocelyn won't say anything. And I can't break her trust, either.
Yet if what she says is true ...
So I keep low and stay out of everybody's hair and try to figure out what to do next.
I just wish I had a clue.
I think I can trust Sheriff Wells.
I just need to gather more information to show him.
Time is running out on me.
More importantly, it's running out on Jocelyn.
On Thursday it seems that someone else feels the same way.
I find a note in my locker, like the others, folded and taped to the inside.
I half expect it to be from Jocelyn and am sad that it's not.
It's short and simple.
Start at the top. But be careful.
A friend
I want to meet this friend, since it's obvious I have so few.
It takes me a while to figure out what the letter means.
Start at the top.
Who controls most of this town? Who is the head honcho around here?
Staunch.
Start with him.
But start by doing what?
He's right down the road, and you ve already managed to spy on him once.
I'll start with him. And I'll start tonight.
You know how you get cold sometimes and start shivering and can't stop? That's what I'm doing now as the breeze whips snowflakes into the spot I'm hiding in. I can barely see the glow of lights coming from the Staunch mansion. It's ludicrous-me shaking and trying to spot something in the dark. It's stupid. I'm stupid. I know I should go home.
Because what exactly am I going to see outside? On a dark night?
A dark and stormy night, a voice reminds me.
Sometimes I rush headfirst into something before realizing that it's probably not the best. I've always been like this. Call it impatience or zeal or stupidity. I don't know what to call it except my personality.
This isn't helping anybody.
I head back the way I came, down the edge of the creek. The water is still moving with ice edging its banks. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but because of the clouds it's dark, hard to move quickly.
I've gone maybe a hundred yards or so when I hear something in the woods.
I curse out loud, thinking of that dog. That thing that resembled a dog.
That wasn't a dog and I wouldn't tell that to anybody else but I know that thing wasn't a dog.
I hear a shuffling sound. The sound of something moving in the forest. Something too light to be human, but too heavy to be a chipm
unk.
My legs start moving quicker.
And of course I slip and plunge one leg into ankle-deep water.
It's more annoying than anything else. The water is freezing, and now my foot is too. As I get back onto dry land, I hear another noise.
This time I see something.
On the ledge in front of me, which drops abruptly into the creek, I see eyes.
Bloodred eyes.
Even in the murky shadows I can make out its shape.
This thing isn't a dog.
It looks like a coyote-that's kinda big for a coyote.
It's got wide, pointy ears, kinda like a German shepherd. The body is big too, but this thing isn't a dog.
Its more like a wolf.
It's standing perhaps ten feet above me, directly in front of me. If it wanted to it could leap on top of me and have a nice, juicy dinner.
I freeze.
I see its black nose, its lighter colored mane, the whiteness around its mouth, the teeth that seem to smile and brag about being so sharp.
It's got long legs that seem to stand at attention.
It doesn't growl-that's what dogs do, and this thing isn't a dog. It doesn't even sneer.
It just stands and stares.
I don't back down, but I don't dare move forward, either.
I'm not sure what the rule book says about encountering wolves in the woods. If I had an iPhone I could Google the info along with taking a snapshot and loading it onto Twitter and sharing it with the world.
But I'm in the middle of nowhere with nothing but my shivering skin.
The eyes bear down on me. Challenging me. Daring me.
Is it warning me? Warning me to stay away?
I don't know. I'm too scared to know if it's just curious or ready to attack.
It suddenly turns and dashes away into the darkness.
I stand there for a long time, reminding myself again how stupid I am, telling myself I've gotta stop roaming these woods like someone who belongs in them.
Friday: Three different times I walk away from Jocelyn, leaving her without saying a word.
Saturday: I ignore her one-line email. I don't answer it when she asks why. I can't and won't. I don't want Big Brother seeing what I have to say.
Saturday night: After trying to go to sleep, I dream of her. I wake up after finding her in a grave.
Sunday: I think about riding my bike to her house. Then I think that somebody might be watching like they always are. So I go into the town instead.
I suddenly notice something that's been scratching at the surface of my thoughts, waiting to get out.
There's no sign of Christmas around.
No Christmas lights on any Christmas trees. No signs announcing Christmas sales or images of Santa and his reindeer.
As I walk through Solitary, which is slightly draped in a thin layer of snow, I realize that there's no evidence of Christmas coming in this town. Neither fun, gift-giving Santa Christmas nor faithful, grace-giving Jesus Christmas. Either way, Solitary seems to have missed the memo.
It's December 5. Back home they start advertising for Christmas by late September. Well, at least by November. By now Christmas would be draped over everything.
Here there's nothing.
This has got to be the strangest thing I've seen here yet.
Even with the slight accumulation of snow I've managed easily to ride my bike into town. Mom said to come by the restaurant this afternoon for an early dinner. It's about four thirty, yet it feels more like six. The town is busy, with cars parked all along the main buildings and across the street next to the bluff that separates the town from the train tracks. When I enter Brennan's Grill and Tavern, I see a packed house and my mother looking busy.
"Hey, Chris," she says as she dashes by me carrying some menus. When she comes back she gives me a hug. "Roads bad?"
"Not really."
"It's a lot more crowded than I thought it'd be. You want to give me another hour or so?"
I nod. "I'll just go check out some of the stores. If they're still open."
"The library is."
"Yeah, I can hang out there for a while."
A few minutes later I enter the mostly empty library and wander the aisles. I sense someone following me, and glance over my shoulder.
Deja vu.
Except this time it's not in the bookstore but rather the library.
Jocelyn puts a finger over her lips and urges me to follow.
At the back of the library is a set of doors. We enter the last one on the right. A stark fluorescent light crackles to life, revealing a room where stacks of books either coming or going are piled like a child's set of building blocks. The light helps the room resemble a jail cell. Or maybe one of those rooms where authorities grill you after you've been arrested for manslaughter.
"What are we doing?" I ask her as she shuts the door.
"Listen to me, okay?" She tugs at my arm.
For a moment I wonder if she's going to hit me, her expression is so intense.
"Nobody is here, okay? Look at this room. It's for storage. Nobody is here and nobody is watching. They don't have this room bugged."
"Jocelyn-look...."
Then she buries her face into my chest and holds on to me.
We hold one another for a long time without saying anything. I can feel her heart beating against mine. I want to kiss her soft lips and tell her it's okay and let her know that she's safe with me.
I want to do this and so much more.
"What is going on with you?" she eventually asks as she moves away and stares up at me.
"I don't-"
"No, you tell me, and you tell me right this instant."
"The other day at school somebody did the same thing to me that they did to my mother. They doped me or drugged me or something. I woke and found myself tied up in a cabin in the woods. They warned me-a voice warned me to stay away from you. To stop snooping around."
"Oh, Chris."
"I couldn't tell you. I couldn't do anything. They're watching anything I do. Everything I do. I don't trust anyone. And I don't want you getting hurt."
She hugs me again, and I can feel her shiver.
"I keep thinking-we've gotta be able to tell someone."
"No," she says.
"I know. I haven't. I haven't even told my mother. But this is crazy. What happens when-what happens if they take you, and they take you for good?"
"There's still time."
"Still time for what?" I ask.
"Maybe because of everything that's happened-maybe they're too afraid of doing something to attract attention."
"Who are we talking about here?"
"I don't know," Jocelyn says.
I tell her about the last note I received in my locker. "You didn't write that, did you?"
"No."
"What's it mean? You think they're talking about Staunch?"
"Maybe," Jocelyn says. "Maybe it's just a way to keep you from looking elsewhere."
"We've gotta tell someone."
"I've tried that before. Twice. Both times it backfired."
"Who did you tell?"
Her eyes pull me in. Her skin is so clear and so soft. I want to scoop her up and slip away, far away from this place.
"Sometimes I think my aunt is with them," she says.
"Why?"
"I told her about-about a few things. Not everything. She said I was overreacting, that Stuart was just a troubled boy who disappeared. But ever since, it seems like she's been more careful around me. Like-I don't know. Almost like she's been avoiding me."
The world seems to be spinning too fast, the reality too sharp to fully touch and comprehend.
"What if we left this place?"
"What do you mean?" Jocelyn asks.
"I mean-leave. Pack our bags and go."
"Chris ..."
"I'm serious. After school gets out. Just go."
"Go where?"
"I don't know. Does
it matter? Somewhere outside of this place. If someone comes hunting for us, we can get help. This isn't a Terminator movie. This is reality."
"I don't think it's that easy."
"Sure it is. You take your Jeep. We do it the day school gets out."
"That's crazy."
"This whole thing is crazy."
"I don't know...."
I brush my hand against her silken cheek and then I kiss her.
For a moment, the spinning stops.
For a moment, the world seems to be at ease.
For a brief, beautiful moment, the world is good and the world makes sense.
"Chris ..." she says.
"We can go back to Chicago. We can go to my father. Not that I want to, but it's a place to go. I know we'll be safe there."
"What about your mother?"
In my excitement and zeal and passion, I'm forgetting the obvious. She can see it on my face.
"You going to take your mom with us?"
"That might be a problem," I say.
"We can't just run away and leave her."
"Then what do we do?"
"I don't know."
"There's gotta be someone we can trust. What about Sheriff Wells? When he was at our house-I don't know. He seemed trustworthy."
Jocelyn looks skeptical. "I don't know. You have to be careful."
"Why?"
"Because-because I don't want something happening to you."
"Why are you so worried about me and yet you've almost given up on yourself?"
She shakes her head and looks away. "I better leave," she says. "You stay here for a few minutes to let me slip out."
"Where do we-how should we talk next?"
She smiles, for the first time in this conversation. God, is it a wondrous smile.
Guys would go to the ends of the earth for a smile like that.
"There's a place I haven't shown you yet."
"What? Behind the falls? At an abandoned church?"
"No," she says, still smiling. "Another place."
"What's so special about this place?'
"Nobody knows it exists. Or at least nobody cares that it does."
I shake my head. "Every single thing has to be some big mystery, doesn't it?"
She reaches over and touches my chest right above my heart, then dazzles me with her glance. "Not everything, Chris."
With those words, she leaves.
Just like that.
Solitary: A Novel Page 22
