Bitterroot Crossing (4 page)

   
The Crush Gang could not enter any building unless they’d been asked inside. They’d been hung outside on the scaffold built just for the occasion. After their bodies were displayed out on Main Street for all to see, they were thrown in the swamp. This series of events had apparently kept them from haunting the interior of any building without permission. My mom had told me that when she was a young girl, the town’s minister had invited them into the church convinced that he could save their souls and send them to a peaceful eternity. They were not inside but ten minutes when the church, steeple and all, collapsed to the ground in flames. The minister managed to escape. He packed up immediately and left town for good.

   
I gazed up at the face of the boy who still held my hand. The sunlight danced off the golden streaks in his long, sandy blonde hair. I hadn’t ever been this close to someone my own age, especially a boy, but I knew when I was looking at a handsome face. I’d never seen a picture of Zedekiah Crush, but Nana had heard it said that he was a beautiful sight to behold. She’d insisted that only Lucifer, himself, could have carved such a magnificent man to mask the evil within. I wondered now, as I looked at the face of his great-great-grandson, how close the resemblance might be.

   
Nick smiled the same slightly crooked grin he’d shown in math class and released my hand. “I’d offer you a ride home on my bike, but something tells me your grandma wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

   
“You’re probably right. I actually like walking.” A breeze drifted past us, a natural, sweet-smelling breeze, not like the ones we’d seen this morning. “It’s a beautiful day, so I’m looking forward to the climb up the hill.”

   
“I could follow--”

   
“Nick!”

   
We both looked back. The girl with the pretty face and bitter tongue walked out of the school doors.

   
“I’ll be fine. Thank you so much for your help today,” I said hastily and left his side. I had not had many encounters with my classmates today, but I’d had enough of the girl with the white pony tail to know avoidance was best.

   
I walked as fast as my uneven legs could carry me but could not resist glancing back around the edge of my hood at Nick Crush. The girl in pink stood in front of him, her arms waving angrily at him, but he wasn’t looking down at her. He was staring over her head at me with that same intense blue stare from earlier today. I turned away.

   
The townspeople scurried around like mice trying to hide from a herd of hungry cats.  I was happy to leave the city limits and reach the tranquility of the mountain road. All was quiet on the path in front of me. No sign of the town’s tormentors. Often the alarms rang and the four spirits never made an actual appearance. But I hurried my pace knowing full well that Nana would be waiting anxiously for my return.

   
I hummed lightly hoping it would make the distance home seem less daunting. I hated the boots. They were awkward and made me feel exceptionally clumsy. And to think I’d worn them so I could blend in. Instead they became the center of attention.

   
The trek got steeper. Each step became heavier as I neared the swamp. And it had nothing to do with my ungainly boots or the inclined terrain. The air seemed to thicken as I neared the swamp’s path. The sky was still crystal clear. The moisture running down my back assured me that the temperature outside my heavy cloak was still quite warm, but the air seemed suddenly denser. My pace slowed as if I was moving through tar.

   
The familiar sounds of nature, birds skittering over ground debris, bushes rustling with small critters, and the flow of air through tall trees dissolved into an unearthly silence. A chilled, smoky taste filled my nose and throat as if I’d been sucking on an ice pop made from frozen ashes. I swallowed back the horrid taste and attempted to speed up my steps. Suddenly a rush of frigid air shot through the trees knocking me flat on my bottom. The trees lining the road bent down simultaneously as if bowing to an audience. Just when it looked as if the tall pines would break in two, they snapped back to attention and the foul wind was gone. It was an obvious sign that the Crush Gang had left the swamp and headed to town. Fortunately they rarely went up the hill toward our farm. Making an appearance in broad daylight was unusual for them. It had been at least a month since they’d left their boggy graves. Apparently they were feeling restless.

   
I pushed to my feet and swept the dust from my clothes. As I bent down to pick up my school bag, a tremor rumbled beneath my feet. My head shot up and my hood fell back. There was no time to right it.

   
A breath lodged in my throat as I peered up at the tall, wavering figure in front of me. His black hat was slung low over his eyes. The strange quiet surrounded me again. I took a step back. The brim of the hat slowly lifted and dark blue eyes gazed down at me with an expression that hovered somewhere between arrogance and torment. The beauty of youth had permanently smoothed his face. Then in a deep, chilling voice the apparition spoke. It was just one word but the sound of it flooded my senses and made every inch of me tremble.

   
“Rebecca.”

Chapter 7

   
“When we get home, let’s hang out in your dad’s garden shed.” Tina’s breath tickled my ear as she spoke. She tightened her arms around my waist and pressed her face against my back.

   
Normally an afternoon alone in the shed with Tina would have sounded inviting, but today, she’d really turned me off. Besides, I had other plans.

   
I stopped in front of her house. “I’m not staying.” I looked back over my shoulder at her.

   
She shot me a nasty glare and yanked her hands off of me. If my fingers had not grabbed the back of her shirt, she would have taken a header onto the sidewalk as she jumped off the back of the bike.

   
The streets were completely deserted. Even cars had been tucked safely into garages since they were always a fun target for the gang. Once, Mayor Grant had left his Mercedes on the street. It took a week for the police to find it buried in the town cemetery next to Arthur Worthington, the city’s founder, and his beloved wife, Martha. The mayor was luckier than Mike Fitchman, the plumber, though. His work truck was found hanging between street lamps on Main Street. No one could figure out how the Crush Gang hung a half ton truck from lamp posts with strips of newspaper. Unfortunately, the paper gave way about two minutes before the crane arrived to save the truck. It landed nose first on the asphalt and left a pot hole the size of a swimming pool in the middle of Main.

   
The lack of people and cars allowed me to jump my bike off every curb and sidewalk. Now that the town’s spirits had given everyone the day off, including me, I intended to make the most of it. For me, that meant not being stuck in the house with my family. I was probably crazy for not taking cover like everyone else, but I was tired of hiding every time these guys decided to stretch their ghostly legs.

   
All morning my thoughts kept returning to Jessie Sterling. When her small hand had reached for mine in the hallway, the urge to protect her was instinctual. I’d only just met the girl yet it felt as if we’d known each other forever. I’d planned on following her up the hill to see that she made it home without trouble, but Tina stopped me in my quest. The weird stuff that was happening this morning made it seem like things might get kind of crazy around here and all of it seemed to be connected to Jessie Sterling and that unforgettable face of hers.

   
Apparently Chuck, the mailman, had deserted his truck roadside before taking cover. As I rode around the corner onto Main, the unmanned mail truck came hurtling toward me. I dodged it easily, but the bus stop bench wasn't so lucky. The truck slammed into it, sending both the bench and the truck onto their sides. A rush of wind blew my hair across my face and as I pushed it out of my eyes, Axel and Butcher appeared on top of the overturned mail truck.

   
As a kid I could never resist peeking under the window shades of the house to get a glimpse of the gang as they caused trouble through town. Dad knew all the names and stories behind the guys. He’d tell me a bunch of cool facts about the dudes back when I was little and Dad still acted like a dad instead of an asshat in a faded robe.

   
Axel, the smallest of the bunch, had a clean shaven head and close set black eyes. Supposedly he’d had a real talent for escaping jail and for starting fires. No one knew why, but keeping him behind bars was impossible without tying up his hands and feet first. As a consequence, he now spent eternity with broken ropes hanging from his wrists and ankles.     Butcher, a guy with a massive chest and oversized jaw, had earned his nickname not because he’d slaughtered people but because he had actually been the town’s butcher. Although supposedly his wife disappeared one day without a trace, and the customers swore the sausage from his shop tasted differently for a month afterward.

   
With a clang, the door of the upturned mail truck broke off and flew into the traffic signal above, obliterating it. Shards of red, green, and yellow glass came trickling down just as Axel spotted me sitting across the street on my bike.

   
His beady black eyes squinted at me then he threw back his head with laughter. “We’ve got us a live one, Butcher.” At once all the undelivered mail flew out of the truck covering the black asphalt road like a snow flurry. Butcher and Axel grinned down at me from the truck apparently impressed with what they’d done.

   
I shrugged my shoulders. Their expressions turned angry, definitely not a flattering look for either of them. Butcher reached into the truck and broke something off. He came back up with the truck’s steering wheel. He spun it toward me like a jet-fueled Frisbee. A high-pitched whirring sound followed the wheel as it flew at me. Even though it spun with amazing speed, I easily ducked out of the way. The steering wheel continued on its path, effectively cutting down a street sign and the corner of the grocer’s roof.

   
I looked at the damage then turned back to Axel and Butcher. “That would have hurt.”

   
I couldn’t explain why these guys had never scared me. Most people in town were terrified of them, but to me, they were monthly entertainment. Even as a little kid, I was fascinated with them. It always worried my mom that I was so interested in them. I guess it was kind of weird, but then I’ve never thought normal was much fun.

   
A swish of air blew past my ear. I turned just as the broken off stop sign swung at me. I grabbed it before it smacked my head. Crow was the one holding it. His face looked shocked, or at least as shocked as a dead guy could look. Crow, my dad had said, earned his nickname because he was always sent up to the rooftops of banks and buildings to watch for lawmen while his buddies were robbing the places. His hair was pale yellow rather than black, but it did stand up like the downy feathers on a goose’s butt.

   
I tossed aside the broken stop sign. “I’d think you guys were trying to kill me or something.”
“Or something.” Crow grinned. He squinted at me. “What’s your name, boy?”

   
“Nick,” I said, “my name’s Nick Crush.”

   
“Crush?” Butcher floated down from the mail truck and hovered near me. My eyes watered from the odor surrounding him. “That’d explain those lightning fast reflexes. You must have inherited your great-great-granddaddy’s talent for speed.”