by Glen Krisch
"Okay, Dee."
Kylie watched Dawn stumble away from the gathering, wiping tears from her face.
I should go with her. Even if I don't say anything, just knowing that I'm there for her…
She nixed the idea right away, thinking that Dawn wanted to be left alone. She probably just had to pee, and who wants anybody hovering nearby while you're trying to pee in the middle of the woods at night?
"She'll be fine," RJ whispered, trying to respect Eldon's sad liturgy. "She's tougher than she looks."
"I know," she said, feeling a lump in her throat. "Are you okay?"
He nodded and tightened his lips into a thin line. Tears formed in his eyes, and he nodded even harder. "Yeah… thanks."
She took hold of his hand, and at first he was reluctant. But when she squeezed his hand, he squeezed back. Kylie felt steadier on her feet. She had to be. She had to be there for RJ, and when she got back from peeing, she would be there for Dawn as well.
"In the end, there is a beginning!" her mom said in response to something Eldon had said.
"And as our Lord God the Creator looked upon His empty world…" Eldon clasped his hands together across his expansive belly, his eyes closed in concentration. "He formed man from the fertile womb of Mother Earth, taking dust from the house of Sanctuary, and irrigated this desiccated amalgam with all the waters of the world. And He breathed into the nostrils of this hollow vessel the spark of life; and in His image, this new-formed man breathed a soul reflected in the illumination of his eyes, and the hearing of his ears, separating him from the beasts, and the beasts from man."
Kylie didn't know what Eldon was talking about, but his steady cadence had a calming effect on her. She found herself listening, soothed by his words.
"And God the Creator endured upon man the knowledge of understanding, and in this understanding, He spoke the word, the One True Word, His Genesis, and its antithesis, the shade of death and the return of the dust to the womb of Mother Earth, and his blood to the waters of the world—"
A blood-curdling scream cut off Eldon's prayer. It came from the woods, in the direction Dawn had gone.
"Dawn!" Kylie said and immediately rushed in that direction.
Within a couple of strides RJ had caught up to Kylie and passed her, closing in on the continued screaming.
"Hector, Austin, take up positions…" Marcus said. "Where is he? Where's that hillbilly fuck!"
Dawn screamed, her voice trembling in anger, becoming throaty, becoming a cornered animal facing down its attacker.
"Get off of me!" Dawn cried. Kylie pushed through the underbrush just as RJ was pulling Austin off of his sister. Austin's pants were at his ankles and he fell back on his naked backside. Dawn's shirt was stretched out at the collar and torn. Her baseball cap had been knocked off, and her ponytail was a snarled mess. The button to her shorts was undone and the fly pulled down.
"You sick…" RJ grunted then punched Austin in the face. Austin's head whipped back, but he quickly reached his feet and pulled up his pants. He touched his cheek, which was bleeding a steady flow of blood, and gave off a cocky smile.
"Shouldn't have done that, boy." Austin brought his fists up in a fighting pose. He hopped on the balls of his feet and turned his neck from side to side until it cracked a couple of times.
Marcus stormed in to the clearing and held his hands up as if he'd been caught stealing. "Whoa-whoa-whoa, what the hell is going on?"
"Just havin' a little fun," Austin said, taking another step toward RJ, "at least until this nigger showed up and ruined it."
RJ growled and closed the gap, hitting Austin with a hard upper cut against his jaw. He followed with a punch to his belly.
Kylie helped Dawn to her feet, pulled her shredded shirt closed, and then stood in front of her protectively.
"What happened here? Let's hear both sides of the story."
"This sicko pervert came up on me when I was trying to use the bathroom."
"I saw the look you were giving me. Don't tell me you didn't want a little escape away from the tragedy of the day."
"Fuck you!" Dawn tried to push past Kylie.
RJ charged at Austin and tackled him into a dense thorny thicket. He pressed his left hand against Austin's chest, holding him down, and reared back for another punch.
Austin kicked RJ in the groin and he crumpled off of him, landing among the thorns.
"Enough!" Marcus shouted.
Austin ignored him. He pushed himself up to his feet, ripping dozens of thorns from the skin of his back, arms and face, stoking his anger.
RJ moaned and tried to stand, but Austin kicked him in the head before he could right himself. RJ's eyes rolled to full-whites and he fell back. He rose up on his elbows, but he was dazed.
"I told you that's enough!" Marcus said.
Austin unsheathed his knife and advanced on RJ.
Marcus stepped closer, ready to get between them.
Kylie screamed.
Delaney shoved by Hector and Jason and then launched herself into the air. She let out an animalistic roar and landed on Austin's back, grasping his waist with her knees. Austin thrashed about, trying to swat her away, but she had a firm grip on him.
"I said, knock it the fuck off!"
Delaney took a firm hold of Austin's hair like a horse's reins with her left hand, and with her right, she stabbed him in the side of the neck, striking like a cobra, and then again, and again, until her arm began to blur, and Austin sagged to the ground, taking her with him.
Sickened, Kylie turned away, and when she did, she was facing Dawn. She brought her friend into a tight embrace, horrified at what she'd just witnessed.
"That's enough, Deli. It's over," Marcus said in a tired voice. Kylie heard another couple of wet, thudding stabs before the attack ended.
Kylie opened her eyes and looked at Dawn. Her eyes were steely, filled with something akin to madness. But it wasn't something that seemed untethered. No, if anything that madness, that rage, was totally under Dawn's control.
Dawn patted her back and then held her at arm's length. She approached Austin's body cautiously, as if he might have one more slasher-movie attack left in him. She spat into his face and kicked him in the ribs with everything she had.
"Are you okay, dear?" Mandy placed both of her hands on Dawn's forearms and leaned over to look into her eyes.
Marcus looked angered at Delaney. She squatted down and wiped her knife clean on Austin's pant leg. She smiled wickedly and sheathed the knife.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said.
"I did what was needed. A sick dog needs putting down."
"I needed him alive. We needed him alive."
"Oh well, I like him better after his makeover. Don't you agree, Dawn?"
Marcus tilted his head back and took a deep breath. He looked around his milling followers, shifting to get a view of everyone.
"Jason?" Everyone looked around in confusion. "Jason! You better answer me!"
Marcus left the clearing and sprinted toward Jerry's cabin. Kylie and the others followed until Marcus stopped in the middle of the swaying purple and white prairie flowers. A nearly full moon cast everything within its reach in a ghostly light.
"Jason!"
Chapter 15
1.
Lightning filled the sky like spider web cracks advancing across smoky dark glass. Thunder grumbled, an angry god seeking vengeance. The sky opened up, sending down sheets of rain. And still Jason ran.
Running… always running, a random crazed sprint, a stumble, a fall, a curse. The acrid burn of fear in his nostrils, the palpable stench of exhaustion, paranoia. Lungs seizing as he cried blurring tears, but unable to stop. The branches lashed and snared, drawing blood. The rocks underfoot conspired against him, fomenting his end. And still he ran. Because there was no other meaning but movement. No other existence or understanding. And with distance and time, trying to not recall the last two days, trying not to admit to his utter ruin, to
his being the ruiner…
Witnessing the leaking red dimple. His doing. His doing…
The crunch of bone on concrete under the force of his own weight. The spasms of a brain corrupted, short-circuiting, shutting down.
And Delaney… the unexpected sight of her standing on his parents' sidewalk. That coy smile. Her angel wings, glowing; her fervent heat, drawing him in. And the mad thrill in her eyes as she stabbed Austin repeatedly, even long after he was dead. Her mad jubilation…
Thunder rumbled through the woods as Jason crested a hill at a full sprint. His mind was nothing more than flashes of recollected misery. And still he ran.
His foot caught on a tree root that sent him airborne. His arms flailed wildly and for a split second, he felt the freeing sensation of flight, but then gravity reclaimed him, pulling him down into a violent embrace as he careened down the hill until a tree barred his path that took his full weight and velocity. When his back smashed into the tree he heard a crack, and when he tried to scream, he heard nothing.
2.
Jason squinted against the steady downpour washing over his face. He was at the base of the tree that halted his descent. Some time had gone by, but he didn't know how long. He squinted and wondered if he might die here, paralyzed, unable to ward off predators seeking an easy kill.
His back ribs on his left side hurt terribly when he breathed, and he realized pain was a good sign. He moved first his arms, and then his legs, finding comfort in the fact he wouldn't have to watch a pack of coyotes feasting on his flesh without even feeling it.
He wiped his hand down his face, feeling filth as well as rain wick away. He steeled himself with a deep breath and then forced himself into a sitting position. Pain radiated from his side, forcing all the air out of him.
"Oh, god, fuck." He grunted between panting breaths. He unlatched the strap on his waist that had kept his backpack in place during his tumble and shifted the pack off his shoulders. He ran his fingers along his back ribs, finding a knobby protrusion that shouldn't be there. All told, he supposed the backpack had saved his life. As he struggled to roll to his side and then to his hands and knees, he wondered if Marcus was searching for him.
Leaning on the tree that had nearly taken his life, he worked himself into a standing position. He looked back at the path his body had taken down the hill. It was miraculous he hadn't died during the fall. He found the situation to be an endless source of dark humor, but he tried not to think about it, not wanting to even risk the slightest morbid chuckle. He shuffled down the remaining fifty feet of hill until he reached a bowl-like valley. Floodwater extended as far as he could see along the valley bottom, reaching four or five feet of depth along the handful of buildings he saw at a sleepy intersection. He worked his way along the edge of the water, trying to get a better look at the buildings. He wanted to see people. Normal, not-crazy people.
But he saw no sign that anyone had remained behind as the floodwater unleashed by the Arkadium came surging in to town. He found a good vantage spot where he could see most of the storefronts that had been built along a three-way intersection at the bottom of the valley. Near one building he saw a broad white sign with blue script that read: Brunner's Body Shop. Next in line was a place called Spike's Tavern and then a couple of storefronts he couldn't make out. The red awning shading the windows of the building dominating the center of the intersection read: Kettle Creek Supper Club—Steaks, Italian, Garden Bar.
He again wondered about his brother; he couldn't imagine Marcus just giving up on keeping Jason nearby and under his thumb. They hadn't seen each other in a long time, not since long before Marcus had kicked heroin and came under the spell of the Arkadium, but the dynamics of their childhood relationship had come to dominate their interactions once again.
He listened for any sign of pursuit, but all he heard was the driving rain casting a hissing static over everything. He walked farther along the edge of the water until he came across a row boat bobbing in place. A rope tied to the boat's prow disappeared into the rain-pattered water. It looked like it was tied to a submerged dock of some kind, but the water was too dark to tell for sure. Jason again looked at the buildings. He saw a covered deck running along the supper club's second story. If he could reach that deck he could at least escape the rain long enough to get some rest.
Marcus would never suspect Jason was hiding in a flooded building. Or so he hoped.
Jason pulled out his knife and cut the rope near the waterline, groaning in pain as he stood to his full height. The little boat looked watertight. He unslung his backpack and dropped it into the boat. As he climbed aboard, he gritted his teeth and panted like a woman using Lamaze to fight a painful contraction.
He supposed it was dumb luck to find the oars at the bottom of the boat, just like it was dumb luck that he hadn't cracked his skull when he fell down the hill. He supposed dumb luck was better than no luck at all.
He soon found a steady but agonizing method for advancing the boat through the water. Three quick panting breaths. Check. Hold breath. Check. Grit teeth and skim oars through the surface of the water. Check. He repeated this pattern until he was two-thirds of the way to the supper club and didn't think he could take the pain. As soon as he eased off the oars he realized he had unintentionally found a gentle current taking him in roughly his intended direction. He breathed a sigh of relief and let the boat follow nature's course.
He steered the final twenty feet until he was able to grab the stairwell's railing that led to the second-story deck. After carefully tying off the boat, he hefted his backpack and climbed the stairs, feeling like someone who had just survived five back-to-back car accidents. Every sector of his body hurt. Every limb had its own inventory of bruises, scrapes, and lacerations. He last slept… he couldn't remember. Was that two days ago now? Three?
He lifted first one foot then the other to the next rain-soaked runner. Then again, working the steps like a deliberate ninety-year-old.
When he reached the top of the stairs he noticed the "covered" portion of the deck was just a series of vine-draped trellises. There was no escaping the rain. Not here. The deck had four aluminum chairs set around a glass-topped table with a citronella candle at its center. He contemplated climbing under the table to rest. Besides the table and chairs, the deck had a central air conditioner unit tucked into one corner, a rusted five-gallon bucket filled with sand and cigar butts, and a few flower boxes set along the railing.
There was always the door. The door to anywhere-but-here. The door to inside.
His mind was too sleep-deprived to think about anything other than the most basic comfort: a dry roof over his head. That's all that mattered in Jason's whole existence, the very reason he continued to live and breathe—a dry roof overhead.
Fuck it.
Jason opened a rusty screen door and pounded on the inner storm door. He waited. Pounded again. Could hear nothing but the distant thunder and the slackening rain.
He knocked one more time and then tried the knob. It was a bit stiff but unlocked.
Jason looked back in the direction he had come and saw two small sources of light moving steadily down the hill. The movement was too ordered to be anything but people walking in formation. He didn't want to know the odds of it being Marcus and his people. It very well could be them. Or it could be another group just as bad as the Arkadium. He didn't want to risk it.
Still holding his knife, he opened the door and stepped inside, preferring to face the unknown than the possibility of encountering his brother. He shut the door behind him, waiting for an attack that never materialized. The place was silent; even the sound of rain had been tempered to almost nothing. He locked the door.
"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone home?" He waited, his many wounds throbbing in sync with his heartbeat.
It was a small apartment, probably a single bedroom, and it smelled like cat piss. No one was home but a scrawny black cat with a spiky cowlick behind its left ear. The goofy-looking cat l
ooked half-starved and had a bad case of bedhead. It whined when it saw him and followed him as he took a short tour of the place to make sure he really was alone. When he entered the bathroom, he automatically flipped the light switch.
"Wonder how long I'll keep up that old habit?" He chanced a small laugh and pain shot through his wounded back ribs.
Isn't talking to yourself the first sign of madness?
He opened the medicine cabinet, but unable to see the labels in the windowless room, he gathered up an armload of bottles and carried them out to the kitchen table. He sifted through prescriptions and OTCs alike until he found a bottle of generic ibuprofen. He popped open the cap and dry swallowed a few.
As he moved about, the cat tried to rub against his legs. He wasn't a cat person. His dad always had at least one companion tom at all times even though his mom didn't understand the point of keeping pets. Jason fell somewhere between the two; he liked animals, generally, but not enough to ever keep a pet. Once he was certain he was alone and in no immediate threat, he opened two cans of cat food from a tidy stack next to the stove and set them on the counter. The cat meowed in appreciation and jumped up to eat.
The cat began to purr as it ate. Somehow this simple act allowed Jason to breathe a little easier. All that Jason cared about was the roof over his head. Now that he had that squared away, he dropped his pack on an avocado green recliner before collapsing as carefully as he could manage on a tattered couch that might've been new during the Nixon administration. As he settled in, he blinked long and slow. When he opened his eyes again the room swam. He closed his eyes again, and this time, they remained closed.
Chapter 16
The rain that had been threatening all night finally let loose, quickly drenching Marcus to the skin. He stood among the prairie flowers as lightning lit the sky, flashing glimpses of the log cabin and the endless miles of surrounding woods. His shoulder hurt where he had stabbed himself, but he ignored it. Anger pervaded his every thought; his senses were heightened by it, giving him both increased focus and astonishing levels of clarity.
