Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series) (20 page)

68. The Balloon

Oli’s parents give me hugs before I leave.

I feel I know and trust them even though I’ve only been around them for an hour.

I thank Mr. Meiners, then head out of the barn and back toward the tracks. I feel lighter, like a balloon full of helium. Except instead of helium, it’s hope.

The light almost seems to drip through the treetops in these woods. The leaves and the color are coming back now. It’s nice to see and hear the life filling back in.

I almost walk right by him.

Almost.

But I stop and dart my head and eyes toward the thing that’s out of place.

It’s not the object but the color.

Something orange.

Then I see a figure move behind a tree.

“Hey,” I call out.

That’s when he runs.

Whoever it is, he starts heading to the tracks.

I hesitate for a second until I see the face look back at me.

Jared.

The guy who told me he was my cousin, only to take advantage of me. I take off after him.

He’s running fast, but so am I. He looks back at me, and I see that he’s got a faint beard and mustache, and for some reason that reminds me of something.

New Year’s Eve.

Spying on the group of hooded men out to make a sacrifice. Hiding in the trees and then being found by one of them.

Fighting with him and taking off his hood.

It’s the same guy.

The same guy I wrestled with and shot. The one with the boyish look and the attempt at a mustache and a beard.

But if I shot him, then how—-

The Falls.

Maybe they made him better the same way they made me better. Maybe Kinner helped save him or heal him.

I keep running now, even more angry and intent on catching up with him.

He’s fast, but I’m faster.

He’s strong, but I’m stronger.

Jared breaks into daylight by the train.

Where’s a train when you need it?

I’m only seconds behind him.

I’ve been waiting to see him. Waiting to let him know exactly what I think about his lies and about him burning down the Crag’s Inn.

Soon I’m close enough to launch myself and tackle him. We both go tumbling down the embankment to the railroad tracks.

I hear his heavy breathing as I grab his arms, then his neck, and then see him cover his face as if I’m going to punch him.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask.

He launches an elbow that makes me curl up breathless. Then I feel another elbow crack over my cheek. Jared shoves me away and gets back on his feet.

From somewhere he produces a gun, pointing it directly at my forehead.

“Lay off, or I swear I’ll put a bullet in you that counts.”

I’m sucking in air and wincing from the blows. Jared spits, then curses.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” he says.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m spying on you. That’s what I’m doing. Follow me anymore and I’ll shoot you.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“You just don’t learn, do you? You don’t get it.”

“You’re a liar,” I tell him.

Jared laughs. “And you’re a sucker.”

He looks around and then wipes his mouth. “It’s so easy with you. I swear. I think they’re wrong about you. You’re not special.” He slides the gun back in his belt. “You touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

Not if I kill you first.

He starts walking away slowly, without a care. It makes me wonder why he bothered to run in the first place.

When I’m finally back on my feet, I no longer feel like a balloon. Unless it’s one of those that’s come back down to earth and gotten tangled up and torn in tree branches.

Jared’s time will come.

I know that.

69. Stuck

I sit on a bench on the sidewalk lining Sable Road and the buildings behind me, between Brennan’s where Mom used to work and the sheriff’s office.

If lava suddenly began to spill out onto the road, I wouldn’t really be surprised.

Or if that giant boulder chasing down Indiana Jones in
Raiders of the Lost Ark
suddenly came zipping by, I wouldn’t be surprised by that either.

At this point nothing surprises me.

Nothing.

I sip on a soda and think about what just happened.

I guess I hadn’t really thought what would happen if I actually caught Jared. What was I going to do?

But I know what he will be doing. The same thing he’s been doing ever since I got to town. Spying. Staying in the shadows. Seeing what I’m up to. And sharing all his little notes with Marsh and Staunch.

Since it’s the start of spring break, there’s no way to tell Mr. Meiners about being spotted. I’ll figure out how to find him this week.

They’ll have to come up with another place to meet.

Well, Chris, we ran out of places, so how about your cabin?

A few cars pass as I sit here. I don’t bother looking to see if someone’s glaring out of them. Maybe Aunt Alice is driving a tiny car, looking for another mannequin for her house.

I sigh and rub my cheek and jaw. They feel swollen.

It’s spring break.

And this is where I’m stuck.

70. The Memories You Try to Bury

Seeing Jared is a sign.

No, make that an omen.

Any minute now that little dark-haired boy is going to come around the corner and the screeching violins are going to start playing and things are going to get really bad.

They aren’t already?

It’s 1:24 a.m., and I’m wide awake.

I’m wide awake because someone is screaming outside our cabin.

It’s been going on for ten minutes or so.

I’m waiting for Mom to hear it and come upstairs. But so far I haven’t heard anything below.

Midnight is sitting up on my bed, looking at me every time another howl sounds.

I used to watch horror movies all the time on cable back at home. Mom and Dad didn’t really pay much attention. Sometimes I’d watch them at Brady’s house because his parents definitely didn’t pay any attention.

Brady. There’s a name from yesteryear.

That sound outside is from one of those movies. A werewolf movie.

Could this be the demon dog howling in the night?

I slip out of bed. Mom has got to be awake. There’s no way to
not
hear those screams outside.

It’s so black downstairs, I might as well have my eyes closed.

You have to hear those sounds, Mom. Don’t you?

But her door never opens, and I never hear her feet shuffling on the floor.

I crawl back into bed.

Eventually the howling stops.

I can only imagine what’s next.

Mom is waiting for me when I walk downstairs the next morning. “Can we talk?” she asks.

She looks like she’s been up for a while; she’s dressed and ready for the day. Though what that means I don’t know.

“Sure.”

“Want me to make you anything for breakfast?”

I shake my head and get my usual bowl of Raisin Nut Bran and then sit across from Mom at the round table. She’s got a big mug of coffee in her hands.

“Did you hear that last night?” she asks.

Even made up and not drinking anymore (at least not that I know of), Mom’s face still looks hard. Not just the lines, but the look. It’s heavy.

Wonder if mine’s starting to look that way too.

I let out a chuckle that says
Uh, yeah
and then nod. My mouth is full, so I don’t say anything.

Mom sighs, takes a sip of her coffee.

Is this the moment she’s going to tell me she’s a vampire?

“I should have never brought us back to this evil place, Chris. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

“You’ve already apologized,” I say. “It’s okay.”

“Listen to me. It’s too close to your graduation for us to leave. I can’t do that to you.”

No, Mom, you can. And should.

“But right after graduation we’re going back to Illinois,” she continues.

“For real?”

“Yes. What? Why does that surprise you?”

“I didn’t think you ever wanted to go there again.”

She swallows and gives me that heavy, hard look. “I learned something in rehab, Chris. Something about myself that’s not so flattering. It’s not about my drinking. But it’s why I drink. The other day when you walked in on us arguing I was telling Robert this. Of course, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to keep it buried just like I have all these years.”

“Keep what buried?”

“The facts about our parents. About my mom—your grandmother. I told you she passed away when I was young, but I’ve never told you how.”

I have a feeling the
how
isn’t going to be so good.

“Louise—that was your grandmother’s name. She was Aunt Alice’s younger sister.”

I really don’t think I want to hear this. I finish my bowl of cereal and have a hard time looking Mom straight in her face.

“They killed her,” Mom says. “I was ten years old and remember it like it was yesterday. It’s strange the memories that you try to bury. They never really go away. Not totally. I realized that while getting help these last few months.”

I shift in the chair that I suddenly realize is really uncomfortable.

“Robert and I were at our house when Daddy came home and got his rifle. All he said is that something happened to Momma. He told Robert to take care of me. There were some neighbors at the time just a couple houses down, and Daddy told Robert to take me there. I remember walking to the house scared out of my mind—it was still light out ’cause it was summertime. I spent the night there, but Robert got out. I never knew this until the other night. He didn’t spend the night at the Carsons’ house.”

I nod, waiting to hear. The cabin feels warm as morning sunlight splashes over the room.

“He went back home to wait and hear what happened, but he hid because he knew Daddy would beat him if he disobeyed an order. And he saw your grandfather come home covered in blood. No rifle, no Momma. And Robert told me he just—”

Mom tears up, and her voice suddenly begins to shake.

“Mom?”

“I’m okay—it’s just—” She wipes her eyes and nose. “Robert heard our father weep. He didn’t think anybody was home—he was too tough to cry in front of anybody else. Especially his children. But Robert had to hear that.”

“What happened?”

“Daddy told us it was a driving accident, but Robert knew it wasn’t true. All he ever got out of our father was that it had something to do with our mom’s sister, Alice, and their father. But Chris—they killed her. The evil in this town killed her. I know that now. Just like they killed your grandfather.”

And just like they killed Jocelyn.

I almost say this.

But I can’t.

Mom is sitting across from me, weeping softly in her hands. I go over and sit beside her and then hug her.

I will tell her about Jocelyn. But not now.

I don’t want to add fire to the flames.

“Chris—I—it just—” She can’t talk for a while. I hold her and wait for the tears to stop.

When they do, Mom grabs a Kleenex and then sits back down with another sigh.

“My parents were God-fearing people, Chris. That was why my grandfather didn’t want to have anything to do with them. And that’s why—that’s what happened.”

“Why they got killed?” I ask.

“Yes. But also—that’s what happened to Robert and me. Why we grew up—at least why I started to hate God. All this time I’ve been angry, Chris. I didn’t even know it. Not really. But what happened with your father scared me, because it made me think of my own parents and their faith and the faith I once had. A faith I thought was real until my mother died and I was forced to live a completely new life. That’s when my resentment began. So when your father showed up saying he had been born again, I didn’t want to hear any of it. But deep down—deep down I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That the same thing that happened to my parents might happen to your father. Or to you. And I just—”

She begins to cry again.

If only you knew the rest of the story, Mom.

“We’re going to be fine,” I tell her.

She nods, but I can tell she thinks this is her son trying to say anything just to make her feel better.

“No, Mom, listen. We are going to be fine. We are going to get out of here. God will take care of us.”

For the first time in my life, I see Mom as someone else. Not an old, broken-down lady, and not the person trying to take care of me and raise me.

No. I see a girl just like Jocelyn and Lily and Kelsey and any other girl. Just a little rougher around the edges.

A girl with the same fears and frustrations that any of us might have.

“We gotta believe that, you know?” I ask. “It’s either that or we let the howling wolves get to us.”

She shakes her head and starts crying again. “I just don’t—I don’t know what those things are—they’re chasing me. They’ve been chasing me my whole life. I thought … I really believed coming back here meant they’d stop coming after me. I didn’t know all this time that that’s what they wanted.”

“What?”

Mom wipes her cheeks. “For me to come back here with the thing I love the most.”

I feel an ache deep inside my gut. I give her another hug.

Maybe they’ve been chasing her all her life. But it’s almost time to make a stand and fight back.

I know how much longer we have, and I know what they ultimately want.

When the moment comes, I’ll be ready. For whatever happens.

71. Uh Huh

“So do you know a lot of the urban myths and all that for Solitary?” I ask.

Mounds has a jumbo-sized thing of soda in his hand. “I hate that term, ‘urban myths.’ That’s a way to cover up genuine ghost stories. And this town is full of them, my friend.”

“Do any of them involve werewolves?”

We’re sitting at a McDonald’s after visiting a cemetery over by Hendersonville. We didn’t find anything there, not like the stuff we’ve found in Solitary.

“Why?” Mounds asks through a mouth full of Big Mac and fries. “You seen some horror movies recently?”

“Just wondering.”

“Yeah, but why werewolves?

“Am I right?”

He picks up six fries and slides them down across the glob of ketchup, then rams them into his mouth.

“I don’t know anything about werewolves, like people turning into them. Not around here. But a lot of people say there’s a pack of wolves that’s haunted. Or cursed or possessed. One of those.”

“Why?”

“You saw those wolves at the old burnt-down church, right? This place is full of wildlife roaming around. People say they’ve seen glowing wolves or black wolves standing at their door. Doesn’t mean they’re werewolves.”

“Ever heard them howling in the night?”

Mounds shakes his head, and I notice his three chins. “You hear one?”

I nod.

“I’m telling you, Chris. You could make a fortune out of ghost hunting. Start a television show, become a brand. You’ve got the knack.”

“A knack for finding ghosts?”

He chuckles. “No—it’s more like they find you.”

“You think I heard some kind of ghost?”

He nods. “I think it might have been a wolf that got killed years ago. Or one looking for the rest of its clan.”

“Seriously?” I can’t believe he’s accepting my brief story as fact.

“We can check it out if you want to. Not today. I’m tired.”

It’s only two in the afternoon on a Wednesday.

“Sure,” I say. “Anytime.”

He slips the rest of his second Big Mac into his mouth, then wipes his hands. “I got something for you. Hold on.”

His faded backpack where he carries everything important is sitting next to him. Mounds digs around in there and pulls out a camera.

“I bought that online,” Mounds says. “It’s supposed to take pictures of dead people. Like
The Sixth Sense
camera. Takes an idiot like me to fall for it. Got two packs of special ‘sixth-sense film.’ Nothing more than a Polaroid.”

The camera is white and black and has a special star sticker on it. It’s lightweight and snaps open and shut.

“It’s yours,” he says. “I’m hoping that perhaps with your abilities you’ll be able to actually get some shots of ghosts. Who knows?”

“Why don’t you get your money back?”

“I tried. The number’s disconnected and the website is gone. Guess I can understand why.”

He grabs the two rolls of film, square blocks that look like large candy bars.

“Knock yourself out,” he tells me.

With my luck, I probably will.

Later that day, I load the camera and try to take a picture of Midnight. The camera makes some weird catching sound and then does nothing. I play around with it for thirty minutes until I decide that Mounds was sold a hunk of junk.

I’m in my room, listening to albums and playing around on the Internet. Facebook just overwhelms me when I go to it. I still don’t like seeing what my old friends are up to, because if they only knew what I was up to …

Hey, Brady, I’m battling dark supernatural forces, but other than that things are fine.

Yeah. No thanks.

I like going on iTunes and discovering new groups or old albums or stuff I’d never in a million years discover without listening to a sample.

So yeah, this is my spring break.

Sometime around dinnertime Kelsey texts me.

How’s it going?

I can’t help smiling. It’s nice hearing from someone. Especially her.

Sorry—can’t text. Super busy.

I can’t help teasing either.

Really?
she asks.

Oh, sure.

I miss you.

Okay, when she goes and says stuff like that, I can’t joke around anymore.

I text,
I probably miss you more.

Any job prospects?

I already have one!

A real job.

Should I be looking?
I ask.

What about college?

Should I be looking?

We keep texting. I don’t worry about the time or whether we have unlimited texting or about eating or about the wolves that might be howling at my door.

We talk about her time seeing her brother and her time with her parents. She loves them, but they drive her crazy sometimes. She says that they tend to put her brother on a pedestal while they baby her. I tell her I don’t know what either feels like.

Then we lighten things up and talk music. I share bands I’ve discovered, and she shares stuff she likes. A lot of the music Kelsey enjoys is from Christian bands I’ve never heard of. She tells me to check them out, and I say I will. She says it’s good to listen to some songs about hope.

I look at the time and see we’ve been texting for almost an hour.

I decide to call her. “You know how long we’ve been texting?”

“Not really,” Kelsey says. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just—figured I’d talk to someone live and in person.”

“Okay.”

She’s suddenly less verbal.

“Wait, let me guess. Are your parents nearby?”

“Uh huh.”

“Same room?”

“Uh huh.”

“Now I get why you were texting me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Uh huh.”

We both laugh.

“You think that Chris Buckley is like the most amazing, cool guy you’ve ever known.”

“Uh huh.”

“And every day you wonder whether to steal your parents’ car and drive to Mexico with him.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re searching for a really cool gift to buy Chris since he was left alone on spring break.”

“Huh?”

We laugh again.

“Well, it’s nice hearing your voice. Even if you’re not saying much.”

“You too,” Kelsey says.

I hear Mom calling me downstairs. “I think we’re having dinner. Or Mom is making me eat something.”

“You need your carbs. You know what Coach Brinks says.”

“Don’t remind me,” I say. “I’ll text you later, okay? Will you be around?”

“Uh huh.”

“Will you be thinking about me and how cool I am sitting in my little room in my cabin?”

She laughs. “Uh huh.”

“You’re just totally crazy for me, right?”

“Yeah, Chris. I am.”

Nice.

I say good-bye and head downstairs.

Sometimes I think that the girls have all been pretty distractions from the ugliness around here. I focus on them and temporarily forget about the mess around me.

But the ugly mess always comes back.

The night arrives, and I find myself wondering when the mess is going to slip back into my room.

I know it’s only a matter of time.

So I pray for God to keep the darkness and the ugliness away for a while. As long as possible. To bring a little light during this boring spring break.