Solitary: A Novel
Page 27
I know now the reason filmmakers make people do stupid things in movies. Because in real life, people do stupid things. People run ahead when they really should run away. People open the door when it should always, always remain shut. People enter the room when they really should exit the building.
My breathing is haggard like an old man's. I'm really scared and suddenly realize my whole body is shaking. My back and my forehead are sweaty, yet my hands and face are still numb from the cold outside.
I turn on the light and see Jocelyn's bedroom.
This is the first time I've ever been inside it.
It looks pretty basic. No pictures on the walls, no theme going on. I open a sliding closet door and see her clothes hanging there. Same for the drawers in her dresser.
Everything's here. Nothing looks like she's gone on some long trip.
If I had time I'd search carefully for clues. But I don't.
There's a small desk alongside the wall; her laptop sits on it. I open it to see if there's anything inside it. Maybe to see if I can access her email.
After a few minutes of trying, I see that they don't have Internet, either.
I look at her emails and find a lone message that doesn't have a recipient. It's a message that looks ready to send.
I click on it and see my name at the top.
CHRIS:
IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN BEFORE THE NEW YEAR.
THIS IS ALL I KNOW.
THE PLAN IS FOR IT TO BE AT THE PLACE I TOLD YOU ABOUT.
THE DEVIL IS STRONG HERE.
DON'T DOUBT THIS.
DON'T DOUBT THAT HE'S REAL.
There's nothing else. No name, no sign-off, nothing.
I read it again.
The place I told you about.
I think about this for a moment and then remember.
So much has happened in these last couple of months, in these last few weeks.
Sometimes a kiss can cover up a gravestone.
Sometimes a friendship can overcome temptation.
Sometimes an embrace can overshadow the hurt.
I remember where she took me that one day, the place beyond her house in the woods at the top of the mountain.
Her bedside clock says it's ten.
I try to make sense of the time, but nothing makes sense.
Nothing.
I just know that I need to get up on that mountain.
Maybe, just maybe, it's all in Jocelyn's mind.
Maybe I did enough-like the woman in shades told me to do-to scare the people in the robes off.
I shut off Jocelyn's computer, turn around, and head out of her room when something else on her desk catches my attention.
It's a photo. A slightly off-colored printout of a photo of the two of us.
The photo that was taken on Christmas Day by my mom.
Jocelyn looks happy and at peace. She looks like love.
I fold up the photo and put it in my pocket, then I scramble out of the house and back into the dark pit of night.
I run through the dark woods.
And I see her smile.
A branch swats me in the face. A limb tears my coat and cuts my arm. My foot pounds against something hard on the forest floor. The wound in my side from the tree branch still throbs, wet with blood. I know my hands are stained with it-some my own and some not.
I hear her laugh.
I'm sprinting uphill, sucking in air, sweating. It doesn't feel like December. It doesn't feel like New Year's Eve.
Then again, nothing feels right. Nothing has felt right since coming to this godforsaken place.
The Devil is strong here, her voice tells me. Don't doubt this.
I feel her hand in mine, gripping, shaking.
She said this would happen, but I still find myself in disbelief, hoping I'll wake up, hoping the cold is just from the night air in my tiny cabin bedroom.
I want to look at my watch, but I don't dare.
Every moment is precious. Every second counts.
Endless trees seem to hover in the dead of night, guarding what is just beyond. Wind whips their skeletal limbs, whips my face.
Three months ago, I didn't know her.
Three months ago, I didn't know anyone like her even existed.
Three months ago, I didn't have the faintest idea what the word love meant.
But as I run, I know this: I'm willing to give my life for this girl.
I'm sixteen with what I hope will be a long life ahead of me, but I'm willing to give it up, to give anything to let her live, to let her make it through this night.
"Please, God," I call out.
But God is a stranger to this place. And to my heart.
I recall her words.
"I believe."
But I don't. I never wanted to-not then, and not now.
A light cuts through the woods.
I'm close.
The gun is still lodged in my hand.
I know I'll use it again. I don't care.
All I care about is getting to her.
The wind howls in anger.
There are forces at work stronger than the darkness. Stronger than the wind. Stronger than the night.
I know this now: There is evil in the world.
And in this place.
The glow gets brighter, illuminating the towering trees around me.
I don't slow down.
I'm almost at the top.
I'm ready to kill.
I'm ready to die.
I'm ready to rescue her.
My searing legs finally reach the top of the hill where the fire rages, where the winds whip, where the night sky explodes above me.
And then I see Jocelyn.
My bride waits in the glowing circle, waiting for me to rescue her and reclaim her as my own.
Everything up to this moment has been manageable. It hasn't all made sense, but I've been able to get through it. My mother's nightmares and the sound of the wind at night and the strange tracks on the deck. The secrets and guilt that Jocelyn has carried. Her past, her present. The town secrets and the darkness and the strange premonitions.
All of this has seemed manageable.
Maybe I've just deluded myself and convinced myself of a lie.
But now, standing at the edge of the woods, seeing Jocelyn, I know that it's all changed.
Nothing is manageable.
I spot her a mile away.
She is a vision in white. The fires that surround her make her glow.
They also make the figures in red stand out like blood on a dove.
Everything changes-I change.
I don't feel my feet running toward the circle of stones. I don't feel my heart thumping and my breath stopping and my pulse racing as I sprint across the field.
I don't hear my voice screaming out her name.
I no longer care about anything.
There's no fear holding me back.
There's no shadow causing me to slow down.
I reach Jocelyn and feel her and know.
She's gone.
She knew this would happen all along, but I gave her the worst thing one could have in this sick and twisted world.
I gave her hope.
I don't hear my voice screaming out because the wind swallows it whole.
I don't feel the tears streaming down my cheeks.
I no longer have any idea where the gun is. I dropped it in my terror and rage.
I'm at the base of a large stone rock holding her cold, lifeless body. All around her are dry chunks of wood, all lined up as if they're part of bonfire.
Jocelyn is here, tied to this big boulder, wearing a white dress like a bride.
Her throat and wrists slashed.
Slashed some time ago.
I want to throw up, but I can't.
I want to slash my own throat and wrists, but I can't manage to even look out of my blurry, messy eyes.
I shake. And convulse.
I'm screaming.
A hand touches
me. Somewhere.
I would like to think I still held my gun, but I don't. I'd like to think I'd break out fighting and beat the whole lot of them, but I'm weak and worthless.
I crumble to the ground right beneath where Jocelyn's body is tied.
"Chris," a voice says.
I feel snot and tears and sweat all clumping on my face.
I'm shivering like a pathetic dog.
"Chris, look at me."
The voice is familiar.
I look up and see the figure hidden in white. Behind him stand figures in red, all holding burning torches. Figures I ignored as I rushed to Jocelyn. Twenty or thirty in all, maybe more.
"Listen to my words carefully, boy. Listen and remember."
I can't stop shaking.
Something in me is gone. Something in me-a very vital part of living and breathing-has simply disappeared.
"Listen right here. We don't need you. You leave, and we'll forget you. Do you understand? We'll let you go because we don't need you. This has nothing to do with you, Chris Buckley. Never has."
I hear something that sounds like a wounded, dying animal.
Sobs. Gasping, ghastly sobs.
They come from me.
"We can do this to your mother, Chris. To your father. We can do this to anybody who means anything to you. But not to you. You will be forced to live through it. Hell is not dying, Chris. It's knowing. It's knowing and living."
I sink to the ground and put my head down and want to die.
A hand grabs my hair and forces my head up.
"You'll live and you'll know, Chris. And you won't tell another single soul. Do you understand?"
I nod.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes," says the voice of some wrecked person. Is it my voice?
The hand lets me go, and I collapse into a pile of mush.
"Leave and never discuss this again."
I stand.
I shake.
"Now," the voice orders.
Jocelyn is there, right in front of me, that sweet angelic face. Beauty like I've never known. A soul larger than life, a soul just trying to make it by.
A soul that loved me.
I let you down.
I let you go.
I let you die.
"Now!"
I glance at Jocelyn one last time then start to walk away.
As I near the edge of the trees I start to turn, but I can't.
I hear the crackling of an inferno behind me.
I see the glare of the smoldering blaze move along the sides of the trees.
I want to turn around, but I can't.
I don't see what's happening. I already know.
The smell of black, hellish smoke reaches my nose, and I double over and throw up what little there is in my stomach.
Then I turn around and see the bonfire.
The flames reach the heavens, as if daring them to do something about it.
The shivering doesn't stop.
Even when I'm home, some time much later, and when I'm under my sheets with the door locked and the pillow over my head.
The shivering won't stop.
My body won't stop grieving.
I want to shut off my mind, but it's still somewhere in those dark woods.
It's too far behind to make sense of anything.
My heart is frozen, cracked, chipped, lifeless.
And as for my soul-
That's the thing that went missing the moment I saw what happened to Jocelyn.
I'll never be the same.
Regardless of whether I have one day left or twenty thousand, I'll never be the same.
The sun comes up.
The skies open up.
The new year arrives.
It's midday and I've asked Mom if I can borrow the car to go into town.
She has no idea, not a clue about the hell I've walked through.
I don't want her to know.
I can't let her know.
They threatened me, and I didn't believe it.
I believe now.
I park alongside the tracks and then walk down them until I reach the old railroad signal.
I walk through woods and get to where the growth subsides.
I see the old barn.
Perhaps I should know better-perhaps I should do something-perhaps I should do nothing. I don't know. All I know is that I'm here and I'm doing this.
Not for answers.
But for myself.
As I walk on the dirt road that leads to the barn, I see a creature standing there as if guarding the building.
It's a wolf.
Its the same wolf that I saw that day in the woods by the creek.
It's gray and tall and beautiful.
It stands there, and part of me wants it to attack me.
I wouldn't fight it. Not today. And not tomorrow.
I'd let it slash my throat and my wrists. Almost gladly.
Instead, it stares me down for a moment, then it bolts off into the woods.
I continue down the path, reaching the opening to the barn.
Part of me is afraid of what I'll find.
Then again, I'll never be afraid again.
When you lose something so close and personal, there's nothing left to worry about losing.
I reach the stall and see that the door is shut.
As I look inside, I don't see or hear anything.
I check out the hay, but don't find anything in it.
The little puppy is gone.
I curse, and I wish there was a god above me to hear it. Because it's Him I'm talking to.
Not even the puppy.
Not even this little, tiny creature named Midnight that made Jocelyn happy.
Why?
I don't get it.
Why?
Then I hear a shuffling sound. There's something behind the wood of the stall I'm standing in.
And I see it.
A little black face. Bold black eyes. A wagging tongue. A flat little nose.
Midnight bolts out of an opening in the wood and rushes toward me, wagging her tail.
I pick her up and hold her in my hands. The dog feels like it weighs two pounds. She's shivering. I know that she's sick-I don't have to be a doctor to tell.
"I'm here, it's okay," I say as I hold her. I sit down in the stall and gently rub Midnight's fur. I feel her body shaking.
That's when I start to cry.
It's the first time all day that I've done so.
Maybe it's just that I wanted to be alone-to be far alone in my own private place.
I weep tears I didn't think I had in me as I think about Jocelyn.
Midnight licks my hands.
I look toward an open window that peers out past the woods into the open sky.
"Why?"
I don't need to address the one I'm talking to. If He's there, He can hear me.
"Why?" is all I ask.
I just want to know.
I want to know why I got so close to saving someone and yet ...
And yet.
Midnight looks up at me.
"I'm going to take good care of you, got that? Nothing's going to happen to you. Nothing at all."
I wipe my eyes and look at the four walls surrounding me.
Then I see something at the edge of the stall. Something dark-a book.
It's the Bible that I gave to Jocelyn.
Inside is a letter.
I keep the Bible shut and pick up Midnight, then leave.
I already feel watched.
Now that I know that Midnight is here and alive, I want to take her to get her warm and to get some food in her.
Then I'll look at the Bible and what's inside it.
Maybe.
There's a town full of mysteries out there. A town just outside my door.
A town full of evil.
I sit in my bedroom, full of questions, full of fear, feeling alone.
I finally pull out the Bible
that I gave Jocelyn. The Bible that my father gave me. I slip open the letter and read it.
It's not dated. It's in her handwriting.
I fold up the letter and feel like she's right there, talking to me.
Maybe she is.
I look at the Bible and don't know whether to toss it in the woods or open it up and start reading. I decide to do neither.
I stay there, sitting on the floor next to my bed where a stuffed and happy Midnight is curled up. I stay there for some time, thinking of the letter, thinking what it means.
Wondering what tomorrow will bring.
... a little more ...
When a delightful concert comes to an end, the orchestra might offer an encore. When a fine meal comes to an end, it's always nice to savor a bit of dessert. When a great story comes to an end, we think you may want to linger. And so, we offer ...
AfterWords-just a little something more after you have finished a David C. Cook novel. We invite you to stay awhile in the story. Thanks for reading!
Turn the page for ...
• Three Recommended Playlists
• Behind the Book: Some Kind of Wonderful
• A Snapshot
THREE RECOMMENDED PLAYLISTS
SOLITARY PLAYLIST $rI: FOR THE WALKMAN
1. "Oscillate Wildly" by The Smiths
2. "Leave in Silence" by Depeche Mode
3. "Watch Me Bleed" by Tears For Fears
4. "Someone Somewhere in Summertime" by Simple Minds
5. "Invisible Sun" by The Police
6. "Oomingmak" by Cocteau Twins
7. "Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want" by The Smiths
8. "Thieves Like Us (Instrumental version)" by New Order
9. "Just One Kiss" by The Cure
10. "Souvenir" by Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark
11. "But Not Tonight" by Depeche Mode
12. "Musette and Drums" by Cocteau Twins
13. "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths
SOLITARY PLAYLIST *'2: FOR THE IPOD
1. "Black Mirror" by Arcade Fire
2. "Losing Touch" by The Killers
3. "Houses" by Great Northern
4. "Come Alive" by Foo Fighters
5. "Ghosts" by Ladytron
6. "Until the Night Is Over" by M83
7. "Hearts on Fire" by Cut Copy
8. "Theft, and Wandering Around Lost" by Cocteau Twins
9. "Highway of Endless Dreams" by M83
10. "If You Were Here" by Cary Brothers