Broken Branch (6 page)

“Breathe,” Ben said. “Just concentrate on breathing.”

Trudy sat down heavily on the ground and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't bear to look at it, not one second more. What creature could have done such a thing?

“I was out with my bow, hunting, the other day when I found it,” Ben said. “I went and got James and Otto. Otto was pretty torn up about it. First time I ever knew him to be speechless. Then I reminded him that God was in control. That this tree was God's will. James agreed with me, Trudy. It was tough seeing Otto so scared, so weak. Me and James tried to explain to him that this was the fulfillment of the prophecy God gave him, and I think eventually, he come around, but you know Otto, he loves people, and he always loved that boy.”

“Loved? What does Otto know about love?”

“I saw him, Trudy. I thought the same thing, but this wasn't the work of no man.” He held out a hand to help her up. “Let me show you.”

Reluctantly she took his hand and stood up. As terrible as it sounded, he had been right about the smell. It was still there, but somehow it didn't seem as pungent, as offensive to her as before. Yet her stomach continued to roll like there was an ocean inside her, thick and warm and unsettled with grief and sickness. She thought of the demon, and she wondered if this would finally be enough to wake him from his restless slumber.

“See,” Ben said, turning the body. “It's like he got tangled up in the branches and suffocated. There's not a mark on the boy anywhere.”

Trudy couldn't make herself look. The simple truth was that she didn't care. Marks or no marks, it wouldn't change what she felt burning inside her. Otto had done this. Otto had killed him and hung him up so the others would see, so the others would continue to fear the God he claimed to know so intimately.

“Who else has seen this?” Trudy said, regaining some of her composure.

Ben put a hand on her shoulder. “Everyone, Trudy. Except the children.”

Her mouth dropped open as she realized why everyone had been so quiet and aloof around her the last few days.

“Why?”

“Otto didn't think you were ready. He said you were planning on leaving and this would set you off. He said he didn't want to see you make a mistake. But I knew better, Trudy. I knew you were brave but not stupid. I knew you'd see the evidence in front of your eyes.”

She shook her head and backed away from him.

“Trudy. Please,” he said. “Please don't look at me like that.”

“I know you meant well, Ben, but the fear has got you locked down. You need to get past it and see what's happening here.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm leaving. Just like I planned. Otto was right, you know. This only makes me want out faster.”

He came toward her fast, and for a second, she thought he might try to physically stop her, but then he pulled back, holding his hands up. “I'm not crazy, Trudy,” he said. “I care about you. I know that's a sin, and I'll probably burn in hell for it, but I can't deny it anymore. I've watched you for so long. I . . .” He trailed off.

Trudy stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for telling me. That took courage. It takes even more to look at what's here and understand the truth. I hope you'll find it before it's too late, Ben.”

With that, she turned and left him standing beside the willow tree. She didn't look back, not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't afford to lift her eyes from the target: getting her children out of Broken Branch.

She got lost. The trees and the wind and the light of the moon seemed to conspire with her fear to confuse her, to give rise to a swelling panic in her breast. What time was it? Which way back to the clearing? And when she found it at last, would it be too late? Morning would mean another day to wait. Another day and anything bad could happen, and then it might be too late, and her children would be sentenced to a life in Broken Branch, the unwitting victims of the evil that saturated the place like water does a sponge.

Turning around in a wild panic, Trudy could think only of praying, because she was truly lost, but prayer seemed like a betrayal of sorts, a nod in the very direction she was trying to escape. It didn't matter in the end, though. She prayed anyway. She said the words aloud, praying for calm, for direction, for the strength to defeat the fear that was trying to grow over her like creeping kudzu. One minute, she knew, you were fighting it, hacking away at the vines, and the next minute you were covered in it, buried deep, staring up at a sky blotted out by knots and twists and dark things that multiplied every time you closed your eyes in fear.

By the time she realized she was in the quicksand, she was already sinking. She'd heard others talk of the quicksand, but she'd never actually been out to it before. She flailed, looking for something to grab hold of, for some purchase, but there was nothing. Her body stiffened and felt heavy. She was sinking. She was going to die.

“You'll want to watch your step,” a voice said from behind her.

There was one chilling instant when she thought the voice belonged to Otto, that he'd somehow found her, but then it came again, and she knew the voice belonged to someone else, someone older and wiser than Otto. It belonged to G.L.

“Give me your hand.”

A gnarled hand found hers and began pulling her back. He was weak—old and out of breath almost before he started—but as he pulled, she stepped gingerly and together they were able to get her body out. She lay, huffing, on dry ground. He knelt beside her.

“You're a long way from home. Are you looking for the swamp?”

She couldn't say why, but she felt an overwhelming desire to tell him yes, that was exactly where she was going. Instead, she said, “No, I'm trying to get back home.”

He stood up, the scars on his chest catching the moonlight as it filtered through the trees. They looked alive in the moonshine, and Trudy found that she had to resist the urge to touch them, to prod them with her finger and see how they responded.

“Ain't we all?” he said.

“Can you help me?”

“I know these woods pretty good, so I reckon I can.”

She stood up. “I'm sorry for the way Otto treated you,” she said.

He shrugged. “I never did hold with no ministers. It's the folks that claim to know God the most that seem like they really know him the least.”

Trudy told herself she'd try to remember that if she ever got out of this place, but then a cloud passed over the moon and the woods went unnaturally dark. A chill rolled fast across her skin and she felt a deep fear that such a day might not ever come.

“I better leave you here,” he said when they reached the edge of the clearing. “Besides, I'm going to get back to the swamp.”

Morning was almost upon the forest. A dim light had already started blanketing the upper reaches of the trees, and she knew from rising early many times over the last few years that full light would come quickly from this point on, and with it, Broken Branch would wake up. Still, she had to ask G.L. a question.

“How do you get to the swamp?”

G.L. grinned. “I reckon that's the sort of thing you've got to find out on your own.” As he had done when they first met, he tipped an imaginary hat at her and disappeared into the woods.

Trudy didn't waste another second. As the darkness lifted, she took one look at the clearing and saw no activity. She sprinted toward her front porch for the suitcase and her two children.

She lied to Rodney and Mary. It seemed like the best bet to get them out quickly.

“Otto wants everybody to meet at the road,” she said. “For a special announcement.”

She figured Rodney would be unlikely to question this as he had already developed his father's penchant for unquestioning loyalty to Otto.

“Why?” Mary said. “I'm sleepy.”

“He wants all the children to remain silent,” she said. “You'll know why when we get there.”

Rodney seemed to accept this and even took to reminding his little sister to be quiet by holding a single finger up to his lips and fixing her with an angry glare.

Somehow, they made it to the front porch without waking up James. She could still hear his snores rattling the house when she let the door close silently behind her.

She picked up the suitcase and saw Rodney's expression change immediately.

“It's the offering,” she said. She didn't know why. It just came to her. It worked, she realized, because
offering
was a sufficiently spiritual word for Rodney to feel like questioning her any more might be blasphemous. She hated playing on his weaknesses this way, but she saw no other choice. A young man's dead body was hanging from a willow tree.

They started across the clearing, and Trudy was beginning to think they might make the trees after all. Morning was here, but none of the roosters had called yet, and the clearing still seemed to be asleep. “Hurry,” she whispered. “We're late.” Rodney picked up his pace, but Mary was dragging behind.

They reached the edge of the woods. If they could just get inside the cover of the trees, it didn't matter when the rooster crowed, they'd have a chance to make it to the road. But Mary was taking her time, zigzagging sleepily.

“Mary,” she hissed. “Hurry!”

But the girl either didn't hear or was too sleepy to respond. Trudy was on her way back for her, meaning to pick her up and carry her if necessary, when the first rooster crowed.

She grabbed Mary's wrist and yanked her hard. The girl began to cry.

She pulled her toward the trees. They had almost rejoined Rodney when she heard a door slam shut. She didn't have to look to know it would be Otto. He rose early as a point of pride. He'd long explained that the shepherd should always rise before his flock.

Trudy pulled Mary into the woods and clamped a hand over her mouth. She spun around and saw Otto standing near his porch steps, stretching.

They had made it. From here, all they had to do was get to the road. At the road, they could either catch a ride or go on across toward the cotton fields. Either way, Trudy felt they would be safe.

“Let's go,” she said, unable to keep herself from smiling. She took the suitcase in one hand and scooped Mary up in the other arm. It wouldn't be easier—she felt that immediately when her arm protested at the strain of carrying Mary—but she didn't care. There would be a new start for them.

She had taken no more than a few steps when she realized Rodney wasn't with them.

“Momma?” he said.

“Baby, tell Momma later. We've got to go. We're late.”

“But you said Otto was waiting for us.”

“He is, baby, I promise, he is—” She stopped, realizing her mistake because Rodney was still standing at the edge of the clearing, watching Otto as he paced beneath the oak tree.

“You're a liar, Momma. I bet you lied about more stuff too. Like Papa loving me. Did you lie about that, Momma?”

“No, sweetie. I didn't lie. I made a mistake. It was your papa that wanted to meet us by the road. He's going to tell you how much he loves you.”

Rodney seemed to consider this. He continued to watch Otto, occasionally glancing back at Trudy and Mary. At last, he said, “Okay.”

Trudy breathed a sigh of relief. One day, she could explain it to him. One day, when he was older, he'd understand that every lie she told was to save his life.

He'd turned and started over to her when another door slammed shut. She saw James through a gap in the trees rushing over to Otto and she had no doubt why he was rushing: he'd discovered the beds empty, the suitcase gone.

“Come on, baby,” she said softly, trying to sound natural. Then Mary squirmed in her arms and pointed.

“There's Papa!”

“Papa!” Rodney screamed. Trudy dropped Mary. She tried to clamp a hand over her son's face, but he slipped free and yelled for his father again.

Trudy didn't bother to look to see if he heard. Instead, she picked up Rodney and threw him over her shoulder. Then she grabbed Mary with the other arm and started to run.

She'd only made it a few feet when she heard the sounds of the forest being torn apart behind her.

James reached her first, knocking her to the ground. The children spilled out of her arms and tumbled through some undergrowth.

“You going to leave me?” he said through gritted teeth. He put his hands around her throat then and squeezed. She couldn't get any air, but he didn't care. He squeezed harder, and in that instant, she made up her mind that she would kill him if she just lived long enough to do it.

“Enough,” Otto said. “Do you want to kill her? If that's what you had wanted, you could have just let her leave.”

James let go of her, but not before shoving her face in the dirt. He stood and kicked her in the ribs.

“She was taking my kids.”

“The prophecy doesn't extend to those that are still children,” Otto said.

“I don't care. They're my children. She was taking them into the world, the wicked world.”

If Otto responded to this, Trudy didn't hear it. Her head pounded with a dull pain. It took all of her energy to breathe, all of her focus.

Vaguely, she was aware of her children speaking. Mary, shy and uncertain, as Trudy would expect, but when Rodney spoke, his voice was as clear as a bell.

“She lied to me. She said we were going to see Otto. Then she said we were going to see Papa.”

“I think it's time to show her,” Otto said.

James nudged her with his boot. “Turn over.”

She rolled onto her back. Otto and James stood above her, looming. She couldn't see their faces, and for a moment she believed they didn't have any, and that she was seeing the real men, with their masks off. Underneath, they were just blank, emotionless, their cores scraped clean of any mercy or humanity until they were as smooth and lifeless as automatons. And at their cores, they ran like machines, one turn after the next, smoky and hot and sure without any of the vague uncertainties that Trudy believed made one human.

“She needs to be punished,” James said.

“Of course,” Otto said. He leaned over until she could see his smiling face. “You're the only one who doesn't know, Trudy.”

She spit at him. Missed. It went right past his cheek and landed on her arm.

“Simpson's dead,” James said. “I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd try to leave. But I see you have lost more faith than even I imagined.”

“I already know,” Trudy said. “Otto killed him.”

Otto turned away.

James kicked her again.

“Please,” she said. “Not in front of the children.”

James looked over at them. They were sitting on the ground in stunned silence.

“Rodney, take your sister back home. Stay in the house. Don't come out.”

Rodney rose and took his sister's hand in his. They stepped past Trudy to where Otto stood with his back turned.

As they walked by, Otto placed a hand on each of their backs and patted them reassuringly. “Do as your father says, okay?”

They both nodded and continued to walk.

Once they were gone, Otto returned. Had he been crying? Trudy couldn't be sure, but the very thought disturbed her. If he had been crying, that made it seem unlikely he'd actually killed Simpson.

The two men pulled her to her feet.

James kissed her neck. “I'm sorry I kicked you.”

This time her aim was true. Her spit landed in his right eye. He wiped it away. “I'm doing it for you and the children, Trudy. You ain't right with the Lord; otherwise, what you saw out there would have been clear. Otto prophesied it, and it's come to pass. God's justice is responsible for Simpson.”

She shook her head. “Somebody killed him. God doesn't do that.”

“Lo, she can't see what's plain in front of her face,” James said. “‘And the eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them that hear shall hearken,' thus sayeth the Lord.” He turned back to Otto. “I leave her to you. Will you punish her?”

Otto looked Trudy in the eye. “That seems like the job of the husband.”

“No. I want you to. You're our leader.”

Otto's mouth creased into a poorly disguised grin. “Very well. I say she needs to spend some time in the storm shelter. We'll check with her after a few days and see if she's willing to withdraw her accusation that I am responsible for Simpson's death.”

“I withdraw it,” she said.

“It doesn't work like that. First you have to go into the shelter.”

She glared at him and he smiled back. He put a hand on her cheek. “I love you, Trudy. I love all my flock. I loved Simpson too. With all my heart. Yet he chose to walk away from God, and God in His great wisdom chose to punish him. God wants each member of this place to believe in Broken Branch. He will speak to you in the shelter.”

With that, they escorted her back to the clearing.

James stood beside her while Otto rang the bells to signal a gathering of the congregation.

“You don't know Otto,” James said. “Not like I do.”

“He's a murderer.”

“No, he's a man of God. He loved Simpson. He was as surprised as anybody else when Ben found that tree.”

Trudy shook her head. “What about you, James? Were you surprised?”

James cocked his head. For an instant, he looked young again, like the man she married. For an instant, he looked unsure, the way he always did when someone asked him to sing a hymn and strum that old guitar. He always worked it out, though, after a few strums. He worked this out too, and then he was sure and deft again, his eyes locked on Otto's lead as they performed.

“No, I wasn't surprised at all, Trudy.”