The Trail

by Brian Francis

  Stupid or not, she would investigate this guy herself. Show that she didn’t need a man to protect her. Even without her gun.

  Kim looked back to the woods. The man was gone. For a few minutes she scanned the pines, searching for the red shirt, the curly black hair.

  There he is. Walking along the trail in the opposite direction, about fifty yards away.

  Kim followed.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Kim trailed the man in the red shirt down a rocky path and into a small valley. Despite the strong mid-morning sun, this particular section of the forest appeared dank and sullen, shrouded in fog. She pushed on, lingering about eighty yards behind the man. At times she would close the gap. Other times, when she felt particularly exposed, she dropped back and slipped into the tree line.

  She wasn’t a great tracker, but Kim had picked up some knowledge about the woods when she was younger. She remembered when her father would take her on hunting trips. She thought of the way her dad would slice the belly of the deer after a kill. He’d clean out the guts and hang the organs from a tree. It didn’t bother her. Not really. Not the way it bothered some of her friends. Certainly not the way it bothered Jack. She was from rural Vermont. Hunting was not a big deal. Hunting was survival.

  The other things had bothered her. The hunting trips at night. When the lights went out in the rancid shack her father had built with the help of her uncle. The two of them, drunk on whiskey, cursing, burping, firing their guns in the air. She would lie in her sleeping bag and pretend to sleep. But it didn’t work. It never worked. They came anyway.

  The room would fall into darkness and Kim would tense up, waiting for the first hand. And it would come, hard and dry and dirt-caked, working down the folds of her sleeping bag. First over her breasts, and then deeper, under her panties and between her legs. She remained rigid, never accepting, but never defending herself, either. She just played dead. Like a possum by the side of the road. Just play dead and think of something else. Let her mind exit her body. They could have her body but it didn’t matter anymore…because she wasn’t in it. She was outside of herself, thinking hard about anything else.

  Kim never knew if it was her father or her uncle. Or both. It was dark, and she squeezed her eyes shut to make it darker.

  In the morning, her father and her uncle acted equally innocent and guilty.

  As Kim hiked through the woods, pursuing the man in the red shirt, she still didn’t know who had visited her at night.

  She came to a stream. The murky water chugged along haphazardly, collecting in brown foamy pools, lurching over into the next curve. Mosquitoes twitched on the stagnant surface.

  She looked up and saw the shack. It had a rusted roof and greasy yellow windows. The walls were composed of random sheets of metal, set drunkenly against the frame. Mud surrounded the foundation. The trees around the shack were burned. Black and gnarled. The few remaining stumps had carvings etched into the bark. Crosses. Numbers. Words from an indecipherable language. She thought of her father’s shack.

  Kim suddenly felt sick. This was a bad idea. She wondered how far she was from the group. If I scream, would they hear me? Probably not. She thought of the lake, the valley, the trail. The fucking trail. It was too far.

  Kim stepped backwards. Her foot sank into a patch of deep mud. She pulled hard and the ground swallowed her boot. She clawed at the muck, but her boot was irretrievable. She’d never experienced anything like it. Her boot was completely gone.

  Kim looked up to see the man in the red shirt not twenty yards away, next to a tree. Despite all of her instincts telling her to run, she limped forward. She had come this far, she wanted answers.

  Her heart was beating so hard that she could almost hear the pulsations. Everything spun inside of her. Her head ached. She could taste fear in her mouth. She arrived at the tree and saw it.

  The man was not there. His red shirt hung from a branch.

  From behind, a hand landed on Kim’s shoulder.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Sheriff Adams convulsed on the basement floor of the old church. His body lay in a heap next to the stainless steel vat of blood. He retched up bile, vomit, and blood. Tremendous amounts of blood. His lungs fought for air.

  Seconds ago his head had been submerged into a pit of blood and he was rapidly losing consciousness. Now, he was released, gasping for life.

  Why didn’t I die? What happened?

  As Adams regained his breath, he looked up to see Officer Bryson standing over him with a smile. Adams could not tell if it was the sort of smile that preceded further torture, or if Bryson was here to help.

  “Adams, Adams, Adams.” Bryson smirked. “You are a mess.” He walked around the sheriff, taking in the image of his superior sprawled on the floor, covered in blood. “Yup, sheriff. I’ve seen you with some nasty hangovers, but I have to say, this is the worst you’ve ever looked.”

  Adams didn’t say anything. To respond incorrectly could elicit more punishment. It was the same rule with interrogating a suspect: don’t say too much until you know the deal.

  “Glick wanted to kill you. And he would have, too. But I couldn’t let him kill my boss…my mentor.”

  Adams looked around the room. It was the first time he realized that he was alone with Bryson. The priest was gone.

  “After all, you did help me as a rookie cop. And you weren’t bad to work for, all things considered.”

  “What do you want?” Adams croaked.

  “What’s this? No appreciation for the man who just saved your life?”

  Adams remained silent, wiping the blood from his face with his hands. If Bryson wanted to fight him, that was fine. Despite the blood bath, he felt strong. Maybe there is something in this blood. He didn’t need his full strength to defeat Bryson. He hoped the young officer would come at him. The only problem was, after he disposed of Bryson, how would he get out?

  “I saved your life for a reason, sheriff.”

  “Oh, and what reason is that?” Adams asked, the words coming more easily now.

  “I want you to join us.”

  “Join you?” Adams laughed and gestured around the room at the vats of blood. “Join this?”

  “That blood is just a part of it. There’s more…”

  “More what?”

  Bryson beamed. “More power.”

  “What more power could I want, Bryson? I’m a cop. I’ve got all the power I need.”

  Bryson snickered. “You’re powerless. The people you thought you ruled are gone. They are with us now. Crenson is our town. Everything you thought you knew is a lie. Father Glick can use the women and children to elevate us to a higher place. We can become immortal in blood. Join us, and you’ll know this power, too.”

  Adams studied Bryson’s oddly ageless face and considered the claim. He scanned the room for an exit. The door he had used to enter the room led back into the labyrinth. Another exit might lead to the outside world. He remembered the priest emerging from the dark corner behind the large cauldron. Perhaps he could get out that way.

  “Join us and know the power. You want that waitress, Nicole? Huh? You could have a hundred Nicoles. You were good to me as a rookie. I want to return the favor. Join us, sheriff.”

  Bryson offered his hand.

  Adams smashed his fist into Bryson’s face.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Kim spun around and saw the man in the red shirt behind her. Saw the dirty hair. The vapid eyes. The streaks of cinder across his face. The cracked and fissured teeth clicking behind the man’s ruddy face.

  “Oh, God,” screamed Kim. She collapsed, half grabbing the man for support, half pushing him away. “Oh, my God!”

  The man in the red shirt wrapped a tremendous hand around her throat and yanked her upwards. Kim sputtered and coughed. She dug her nails into his face, ripping away chunks of flesh and hair.

  The man did not defend himself. He merely laughed. Finally, he appeared to have had enough. He
let go of her throat, grabbed her arm with both hands and broke it. Snapped it viciously, so the bone splintered and pierced though the skin.

  At first, Kim couldn’t believe it. She could not believe that the protruding white bone jutting out of her body, just below the elbow, was hers. Then the pain made her believe. She lost control of her bladder. Her eyes crossed and swam dizzily inside her skull. She pawed at her broken arm, feebly trying to reset the wound, to work the bone back into place. Just touching it sent off crippling ripples of pain.

  A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. The two that surfaced with any clarity were contradictions: If I pass out from the pain he’ll kill me. The second thought was: he’s going to kill me anyway, I hope I pass out so I don’t feel the pain.

  Kim didn’t pass out. Instead, she stumbled through the woods, cradling her shattered arm. The man in the red shirt trailed behind, laughing.

  “Jack! Scott!” she screamed as she ran. She wondered how far the others were. She wondered how far she’d strayed from the campsite.

  I deserve this. I deserve everything I get.

  It had been stupid to go off alone. It had been stupid to follow the man in the red shirt. Even during the panic of pursuit, Kim’s mind studied her own psyche. She always saw herself as inferior, so she always felt the need to prove something. That’s why she had followed the man in the red shirt. She had wanted to report back to the group about her findings. She had wanted the group to see that she was resourceful and fearless.

  As it turns out, I’m just fucking stupid, she thought.

  Kim could hear the man in the red shirt laughing, close behind her. She glanced back. Her foot caught a broken branch. She went sprawling to the ground, crashing down hard on her damaged arm. The pain exploded in white lights.

  This time, she did pass out.

  When she awoke, the man in the red shirt was hovering above her. He had a long hunting blade with a dull green handle.

  Kim thought of the others. Jack, the innocent goofball. She should’ve been nicer to him. Scott. Something evil about him. Now she’d never know what it was. Susan. Poor Susan. Kim wished her the best, but wondered if that would be enough.

  Martin raised the blade above his head. The black-haired girl flinched, like a dog anticipating a smack in the face. For a couple of seconds the woods froze in complete silence, save for her tiny whimpers.

  Then Martin drove the knife down with shocking force, splitting her skull in two.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?” demanded Susan.

  Scott slowly rose to his feet. “I’m just saying, babe, who said it was an accident?”

  Susan felt the blood drain from her face. Hearing it the first time had been a shock. Hearing Scott say it again, with a hint of menace in his voice, made her feel ill.

  “What are you saying, Scott? What happened to that boy in college?”

  Scott laughed. “What happened? You wanna know what happened? Why? You never asked me before.”

  “Sure I did, Scott. Sure I did. I asked you and you said it was an accident. You said you dropped that block and it was an accident.”

  Scott jabbed a finger in Susan’s face. “I never said that! That’s just what you heard! Just what you assumed!”

  “Okay, Scott,” Susan said unsteadily. She wanted to leave. She wanted to find Jack and Kim and go home. First, she needed to know more from Scott. “What really happened?”

  Scott laughed. “Oh, now you want to know?”

  “Jesus Christ, Scott! Don’t screw with me! I’m tired and I want to go home. Just tell me what happened.”

  “I killed him.”

  “What?” Susan asked. Tears began to pour down her face. “Why, Scott? Why did you kill him?”

  “Because he saw something he shouldn’t have seen.”

  “What? And you killed him? What the hell could have been that important? Did he see you cheating with someone else? Who cares, Scott? We all know you sleep around! I know you just slept with Kim in the woods. We all know you’re a cheater!”

  “No,” Scott said calmly. “It wasn’t that kind of cheating.”

  “Well, then, what are you talking about?”

  “It was a test. An exam. A final exam. Chemistry. Fucking Chemistry 101. There was no way I was gonna pass that final. I never understood that shit. But there was also no way I could get an F on my transcript. So, one night after classes let out, I went back into the Science Department office and tried to find a copy of the exam. I found one, alright.

  “But as I was leaving the office, that kid, Todd, happened to walk by. And I think he saw me. I don’t know if he saw me take the exam, but the way he looked at me…” Scott’s voice faded to a whisper. “He looked at me like he knew I was doing something wrong.”

  Susan broke in. “You killed him because of a look? Oh, my God.”

  “It wasn’t just a look, Susan. If he told anyone, my college transcript would be fucked. Hell, my career would be fucked. You think any magazine would hire a journalist who’s been accused of cheating? That’s the same as plagiarism. It’s the kiss of death in my profession.”

  Susan stood in the woods. Stood in complete silence staring at her husband. She studied his face, but as hard as she looked, she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. Scott was a complete stranger to her now.

  Jack ran toward them and breathlessly announced, “Kim’s missing!”

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  “Are you sure?” Susan asked.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, his mind still reeling with images of the dead hiker. “I looked around the tent, the lake, the woods. I couldn’t find her.”

  “She’s here,” Scott cut in. “Probably just lost. Let’s spread out and look for her.” He started moving westward toward a cluster of sycamore trees.

  “Hold up, Scott!” Jack said. “Just hold up. I don’t think we should split up. It’s bad enough that one of us is missing. If we lose someone else, we’d really be screwed. We need to stick together.”

  Scott strapped his green daypack to his back. “No, Jack. We’ll cover more ground if we split up. It’s already late afternoon. Once the sun goes down we won’t be able to see shit. We need to find her fast. Gotta split up.”

  Jack looked at the sun. The small orange ball burned behind the tree line. Scott was right. Before long it would be dark, and finding Kim would be much more difficult. Jack had always been amazed by how fast the sun went down. You could literally go inside to get a glass of iced tea, and by the time you’d return, the sun would be gone, just a memory. An empty space on the horizon, the dark currents of the lake.

  It was worse in the woods. On previous camping trips, when Jack hadn’t been prepared for nightfall, he’d had to scramble around searching for his flashlight, his jacket, his dope. Nightfall in the woods had the suddenness and finality of a power blackout.

  “Maybe Scott’s right,” Susan said. “Maybe we should split up.”

  This surprised Jack. He’d never known Susan to want to be alone. Jack had noticed a distance growing between Scott and Susan. Now she was looking at Scott like he was the devil.

  They must’ve had one hell of a fight.

  “That’s two votes to one,” said Scott, tightening the straps on his backpack. “We’ll split up. Jack, you walk near the lake. I’ll check out the woods. Susan, you hike the trail.”

  This is happening too fast, Jack thought. The plans, the commands, the rushed nature of Scott’s leadership.

  “Okay,” Jack said. “The lake.”

  “Everyone has a watch, right?” Scott asked.

  “My cell phone,” Jack said. “No signal, but the clock still works.”

  Susan raised her wrist to show Scott her watch.

  “Meet back here in one hour. Sooner, if you find something. Okay? Go.”

  Jack started towards the lake. It was the first long hike he’d taken since their trek to the campsite yesterday afternoon. Jack reme
mbered the power struggle about which path to take. Ultimately, they had abandoned him, in favor of Scott’s plan. Here they were again, following Scott.

  When do my plans count, Jack wondered. When do I get to lead?

  He’d lived with Scott long enough to know that the answer to that question was: never. When Scott was focused on something, he would never give up. Thinking back, there were a few matters in which Scott could become downright ruthless. One was his career. The other, his grades.