Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  Carrie already knew. She couldn’t breathe, but she knew.

  Jenna was dead.

  forty-seven

  CARRIE STRUGGLED TO GASP. To think. Her mind begged for another explanation while her lungs screamed for air.

  Jenna…

  …dead…

  Jeff’s face started to swim in front of her. He squeezed her neck and pushed her harder against the brick. Pain spread down her spine. He was twice her size, and she had nowhere to go. She kicked wildly and connected with nothing.

  Please! she screamed in her mind. Stop!

  “How does it feel to die?” Jeff hissed, murderous eyes inches away from her.

  She couldn’t think about Jenna anymore. She clawed his fingers on her throat, his arms. Dark spots crowded her vision. Her limbs were going numb, her mind blank.

  Air.

  “Jeff!” CJ shook him roughly. “Let her go!”

  Jeff’s massive weight shifted. In one fluid move, he dropped Carrie and whirled. At the same time Carrie fell, she heard a grunt of pain. A dark shape dropped beside her.

  CJ!

  She gasped and coughed, struggling for the air to shout like she needed to. She scrambled over to his still form. “CJ?”

  No response.

  She hunched over CJ and shook him. “CJ, please!”

  “Jenna!” Jeff wailed above her.

  * * * * *

  Greg dropped Lindsey’s hand. He listened again. Somebody was yelling outside, although he couldn’t make out who it was over the loud music. Normally he wouldn’t have thought twice about it in a group this big, except it was cold and snowing outside, and the yelling wasn’t the fun, screw-around teenage kind. It sounded desperate. Angry.

  “What’s wrong?” Lindsey asked. “Do you want me to ask May to play a different song?”

  “No. Quiet.”

  Greg scanned the room, looking toward the window. He couldn’t see anything through the mass of people. Then he heard it again. Only this time it wasn’t yelling. It was screaming. Female.

  Carrie!

  Greg bolted for the door, his thoughts a whirlwind. Oliver’s uncle had ratted them out. Patrolmen had come. Carrie was being arrested. He couldn’t get through the mass fast enough.

  Somebody different yelled outside.

  A man.

  More people turned, and the room became a mass of obstacles. Greg swam upstream, shoving people to get outside. Carrie screamed again, and he nearly knocked over Vanessa Green to get out the front door.

  When he burst outside, the scene was nothing like he expected. Instead of finding Carrie surrounded by a dozen patrolmen, she knelt on the porch by a pair of legs. Somebody was down, and she was shouting at them to wake up. Greg jumped over to help.

  He saw the butt of the rifle a second too late.

  The rifle smashed into his skull, just below his hairline. He spiraled back and hit brick.

  Everything went black. The pain was blinding. Splotches of shapes. Blurs. Movement. And more shouting.

  He tried to push himself up through the fog. Didn’t make it. His face pressed to the cement, head pounding like a bass drum. He grunted and tried again. Failing. The pain was excruciating. He blinked several times to clear his eyes. Enough to make out the shape of somebody hovered over him.

  “Greg!” Carrie said, frantic. “Oh, no! You’re bleeding. Please be okay. Please be okay.”

  With effort, he reached up and felt the side of his face. Warm liquid oozed down. He blinked a few more times.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Relief flooded Carrie’s eyes. “You have to help your grandpa. He’s hurt and—”

  “Get away from him!” a man screamed.

  Someone grabbed Carrie and yanked her back. Gone again.

  Greg suddenly remembered. The patrolmen. He rubbed his eyes like a maniac. He needed his vision.

  He needed to see!

  Using the brick wall, he pushed himself to his knees, ready to tackle the patrolmen. A surge of dizziness nearly knocked him over, and he bent in half. Blood dripped on the cement below him. He grabbed his head, desperate to clear it.

  “Stop, Jeff!” Carrie cried. “Please! You’re hurting people. You have to stop!”

  Jeff?

  In an instant, the situation whirled for Greg. Jeff had clubbed him with the rifle, not a patrolman.

  Greg squinted through the haze and saw Carrie standing in front of Jeff Kovach on the wet sidewalk, holding his arms back, forcing him away from Greg on the porch. Jeff was breathing heavily, wildly, murderous gaze on Greg.

  Greg felt his forehead again. Warm, sticky, and swelling, but his eyes and thoughts were clearing with every heartbeat.

  “Greg didn’t hurt Jenna,” Carrie said, nearly hysterical. “He’s been here the whole time. Please, don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt anyone! Just tell me what happened. Let me help.”

  Jeff’s eyes were wild like a raging tiger. They left Greg to sweep the scene as person after person streamed onto the porch to see what was happening.

  “You did this,” Jeff said to the group. “All of you. She’s gone and…” His chest caved. “You did this.”

  “That can’t be true,” Carrie said. “Jenna can’t be gone.”

  Jenna.

  The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Greg. Jenna was dead, Jeff had gone ballistic, and the whole clan was streaming out of the house to watch it. Carrie stayed between Jeff and the crowd, holding him back.

  “She’s gone,” Jeff moaned. “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

  “Just let me help,” Carrie said.

  His eyes, ferocious, went back to her. “You can’t help! She’s dead!”

  A few people gasped.

  Jeff nodded. “That’s right. Jenna’s dead. Are you happy? I shouted for help, and no one came. Not a soul. You were all here at your party, and now she’s dead. Dead and gone. And it’s all your—”

  Another scream pierced the air. Female again, only from behind Greg. His mom flew out of the house and collapsed over the still form on the cement. The one Greg had forgotten.

  “Dad?” his mom cried. “Dad!”

  Greg scrambled over to them. His grandpa lay silent on the porch, with a huge, red welt on the side of his face. Only unlike Greg, his eyes were closed and his face was chalky white. He looked dead.

  “Grandpa?” Greg shook him. “Check for breathing.”

  “Dad!” his mom wailed.

  Greg pressed his ear to his grandpa’s chest. He heard deep thuds but couldn’t tell if it was his own pounding pulse. He felt his grandpa’s neck. He couldn’t tell. Couldn’t tell!

  Richard pushed through the crowd and knelt next to them. “What happened?”

  “Jeff went crazy and attacked Grandpa,” Greg said. “Now I can’t make out his heartbeat. Check for me. I can hardly think straight.”

  “Whoa.” Richard grabbed Greg’s arm, eyes zeroing in on the blood dripping down his cheek. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Just check to see if Grandpa’s still—”

  His grandpa groaned. It was a small, pained mutter, but it was something. His eyes remained closed. Still, he was alive.

  “Dad?” his mom cried. “Dad, please!” When he didn’t respond, she whirled. “What did you do to him!” she screamed at Jeff. She cleared her throat, but the damage was done. She coughed. “What did you”—another cough—“do?”

  Greg grabbed her. “Ma! You gotta calm down. Fast.”

  She doubled over as the coughing grew more pronounced. “Attacking…an old man?”

  Jeff’s head swung around. “A life for a life,” he said without emotion.

  She lunged.

  Greg caught his mom and yanked her back. Jeff missed the threat, already back to surveying the crowd with his blank, dead eyes. Greg locked his mom in his arms. She shook with more hacking coughs, struggling to pull in air. The wheezing was closing off her airways. If he didn’t get her in control quickly, he’d have a lot more than
a crazed lunatic to worry about.

  “Ma, calm down,” Greg whispered, desperate. “Grandpa’s gonna be fine.” At least, he better be. Greg turned and glared at Jeff. The shock was wearing off and, in its place, rage started to boil.

  “Let me get things in control before Jeff loses it,” Greg said. “Before he…” His breath caught. His thoughts froze. A rifle hung loosely from Jeff’s hands. Jeff hadn’t punched Greg. He’d clubbed him with the butt of the hunting rifle.

  A rifle that now hung inches from Carrie.

  Carrie faced away from them, still keeping herself between Jeff and the crowd. But she had screamed. Greg heard her. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if she was hurt like him and his grandpa, but the tip of the rifle was down and swinging all over the place. Greg had seen Jeff hunt. His aim was impeccable. It would take less than a second—less than a thought—to raise it and fire off a deadly shot.

  And if Jeff blamed Carrie for Jenna’s death…

  “Carrie…” Greg whispered.

  Richard turned and saw the same thing. “I got your mom. Go!”

  Greg jumped up. His head swam, but he slid along the brick, crouching behind everybody. Carrie and Jeff were down the wet sidewalk ten feet. She stayed in front of him, hands up as if that could somehow block him or his rifle.

  “I want her back,” Jeff said. His eyes, his face, everything was in a state of shock. Snow swirled around him, but he didn’t notice. Bombs could be exploding, and he’d have had the same, blank look. Greg knew because he’d had it once, too, outside of a municipality hospital.

  “I know,” Carrie said, voice full of tears. “Just let me help.”

  If Jeff spotted Greg moving through the group, he’d start shooting, regardless of who stood in the way. Careful, Greg slid behind Amber to crouch behind Braden. He tugged on Braden’s jeans and Braden glanced down.

  “Get everybody inside,” Greg hissed. “Then take a couple guys and go around back. I’ll head Jeff off this way.”

  Nodding, Braden jumped into action.

  Greg kept moving down the line. With every step Carrie pushed Jeff backward, Greg took five, working his way up front. Jeff’s first blow still had his head reeling. The next one would be fatal. But Greg had to get her out of there.

  “Get inside,” he told person after person. “Go slow. No fast movements. Quiet.”

  Nobody listened. Half were rooted in their spots, the other half suddenly realized what Greg had: armed lunatic. They shoved their way back inside. Within seconds, it was chaos.

  “Stop!” Jeff shouted, raising his rifle. “Nobody move. It’s over!”

  People froze.

  “That’s right,” Jeff said. “It’s over. I’m shutting down this clan. I’m finding the first patrolman and turning you all in. I’m getting my reward. I’ll even turn in Oliver.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Why not? Oliver chose Carrie. Carrie chose Greg. Greg chose to stay. Everyone chooses themselves around here, and now Jenna’s dead. So it’s over. You’ll all be arrested by morning.” His expression hardened. “Say your goodbyes.”

  forty-eight

  NOBODY MOVED. NOBODY EXCEPT GREG. He kept sliding in the shadows.

  “Go!” Greg whispered. “Get inside. Move slowly.”

  One by one, people started shuffling again, only more carefully. His mom and Richard dragged his grandpa inside. Everyone else followed. In another second, it would just be Greg, Jeff, and Carrie outside—and with luck, just Greg and Jeff.

  “Please, Jeff,” Carrie said. “You’re not thinking straight. What do you want?”

  His nostrils flared. “I want Jenna back.”

  Greg climbed off the porch and hugged the bushes, careful to not make any sudden moves. Carrie and Jeff were halfway across the snowy yard now. Somehow she’d pushed him that far back. But Greg knew Jeff’s state of mind. There was no reasoning with a man whose wife had died. He’d attacked a seventy-year-old man, and Carrie was a foot from that rifle. If Greg could knock the gun out of the way, he could drop Jeff with a single blow. But with Carrie that close, he had to tread carefully.

  He slid a few more steps onto the wet grass. He scanned the side yard. Nothing. Hopefully Braden and the other guys were closing in.

  A sudden blur of a red shirt shot off the porch and whizzed past Greg.

  Zach.

  “You stay away from my sister!” Zach screamed, headed right for Jeff.

  Greg jumped up to snag Zach. Too far. Too far! He couldn’t reach the kid.

  Instinct took over. Jeff’s rifle rose.

  Time seemed to slow. Zach skidded to a stop, eyes wide while Greg suddenly couldn’t move.

  “NO!” Carrie lunged and rammed into Jeff, throwing him off balance. The rifle teetered but didn’t fall.

  Greg slid across the slushy grass, trying to reach Zach. “Go!” Greg yelled at him. “Get back inside now!”

  “Freeze!” Jeff shouted. “Both of you, not another step!”

  Greg stopped dead. So did Zach. Because Jeff had snatched Carrie. He whipped her around to face them, clutching her by the neck. At the same time, he leveled the rifle at Zach’s chest.

  “Go ahead,” Jeff said to Greg. “Move. I dare you. See which one dies first.”

  Greg’s hands shot up high in surrender. “Wait. I’m not movin’. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot!”

  Carrie’s eyes were pure terror. She went limp in Jeff’s arms. “Please, Jeff. Leave Zach out of this. This is our fight, not his.”

  “Leave Carrie alone!” Zach shouted back.

  “Go, Zach!” Carrie yelled.

  “No! Let my sister go!”

  Greg said nothing. He didn’t hardly breathe for fear Jeff would kill Zach or Carrie. Or both. Jeff’s gaze, dark and animal, never left Greg, as if he hadn’t heard either Ashworth.

  “Please,” Carrie begged, voice hoarse from his tight grip on her neck. “I’ll do anything.”

  “Fine,” Jeff finally said. “Choose. Zach or Greg?” His rifle waved between them. “Which one will you save this time?”

  “Zach!” Greg yelled. “She chooses Zach.”

  “Silence!” Jeff shrieked. “Carrie is going to choose, only this time I’m waiting for her decision instead of sitting at my house, wondering. I want to hear her choose her new lover over her little brother so everyone knows what kind of person she is.”

  Carrie’s eyes went to Greg with a tortured, agonized look. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Choose now,” Jeff hissed, “or they both die.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Greg.

  Relieved, Greg nodded. He never would have forgiven her if she’d chosen otherwise.

  “There,” Greg said. “She decided. She chose Zach, so let him go. In fact, let ‘em both go. You can shoot me after they’re inside. Don’t make ‘em watch.”

  Jeff took that in a moment. “Fine. Zach can go, but Carrie stays. She’s going with me to the township.”

  To the township where Jeff would expose their clan. Carrie would be arrested. Even Jeff would be arrested, and Greg figured he didn’t care. Greg locked his muscles to keep from doing something impulsive. He couldn’t afford to lose it now.

  Zach planted his feet. “I’m not going!”

  “Go, Zach,” Greg said calmly. The kid was only a few feet away. “Get inside now.”

  “NO!” His fists clenched. His face was red with tears and rage, morphing into the teen by the barn, ready to die for his family. Only Greg couldn’t let him.

  Cautiously, with his hands still raised, Greg crossed the last few feet. Then he turned his back to Jeff and lowered his voice.

  “Zach,” he whispered, “I need you to help me save Carrie.”

  Zach’s eyes widened.

  “Go inside and find Braden,” Greg continued urgently. “Tell him to grab some guys and head outside around the back way. When I give the signal, tell them to jump Jeff from behind. Okay?”

  Zach nodded. In a flash, he turned and flew inside. Hope
fully, before he realized what Greg had done, Richard would snag him and lock him in a bathroom until this was over.

  Greg made sure Zach was all the way inside before turning back. More tears streamed down Carrie’s face, this time in gratitude.

  “Alright,” Greg said. “Let her go. Take me to the township instead and shoot me there if you want.” Greg slid a few inches forward. “Oliver already hates my guts. You and he can take turns shooting.”

  “How romantic,” Jeff sneered. “Dying for the woman you love. You killed the love of my life. Maybe I should kill yours.”

  Jeff’s grip slid up the rifle to swing it around, one-handed, to face Carrie. Greg’s stomach lurched. But the rifle was too long. Jeff couldn’t point it at her and keep hold of her neck. Realizing the same thing, he pointed the rifle back at Greg’s chest and squeezed his thumb and fingers on the veins in her neck instead. She winced but stayed still in his arms.

  Greg locked eyes with Carrie, begging her to break free. She needed to fight. An elbow. A head butt. Anything. But he knew she wouldn’t risk it—risk him.

  Keeping his hands up, Greg slid another inch forward. He didn’t know where Braden or the others were. Even if they were perched on the side of the house, they wouldn’t risk him either. Not with a gun pointed at his chest.

  “I don’t love Carrie,” Greg said, stealing another inch. “Everybody knows that. I only love myself. So if you wanna take out your revenge on somebody, it’s gonna have to be me and me alone. Let. Carrie. Go.”

  “If you don’t love her, why do you care what I do with her?”

  “‘Cause you don’t wanna hurt her.” Jeff and Carrie were still ten feet away. Just a little more and he’d be close enough. Another inch. Two inches. “You wanna hurt me. You’ve hated me since the second I moved in.”

  Jeff’s eyes hardened, but so did his grip.

  Carrie gasped and choked, unable to hold back anymore. She clawed at Jeff’s monstrous hand, desperate. He was twice her size and strength. In his state of mind, he’d kill her and not even know it. Frantic, Greg stole four more inches, careful to keep his upper body motionless.