Gallows Hill (10 page)

She grabbed up her tote bag, snatched the last of the cinnamon rolls out of the package, and went back out into the chilly November morning. Beneath her feet the sidewalk crackled with dead leaves, and above her, naked branches raked at the sky with sharp-nailed fingers. The houses that she was beginning to know from Charlie's paper route were the same cute picture-book structures that had presented such a welcoming image when she and Rosemary first gazed down at them from the top of Garrett Hill. They did not look welcoming now, they looked closed off and secretive. Then again, perhaps it was only the fact that the panes now had frost on them that made the windows appear to be eyes with silver-plated cataracts, blinding the occupants to anything beyond their own walls.

Why was it, Sarah asked herself as she crunched her way toward school, that the streets of this town seemed strangely familiar, as if she had walked them before? Why did she feel so strongly that she had gazed up before through thin bare branches at a clear, cold sky that bore no resemblance to the cotton-clouded skies of southern California? And why, when she looked to the north, where the paved street ended and became a hard-packed dirt road that disappeared into the pines that carpeted the southern side of Garrett Hill, did it send a chill down her spine, as if she had seen it before in a childhood nightmare?

I hate this place, she thought with an involuntary shudder. Rosemary can do what she likes, but as soon as I graduate, I'm out of here. I won't come back even for Christmas; I'll spend the holidays in California with Gillian's family. If Rosemary wants to see me, she can come there to visit me.

She arrived at school just in time to make it to her locker before the final bell rang. She was crouched on the floor, in the process of reorganizing her books, when a pair of shoes rammed into her, almost knocking her over. She looked up to find Debbie Rice standing above her.

"Where did they go?" Debbie demanded in an icy voice.

"Where did who go?" Sarah asked her.

"Where did Grace and Buzz take off to? You knew they were at the bus terminal. So draw on those evil powers of yours to tell me where they went. Grace didn't say in her note."

"You mean they really were at a bus terminal?" Sarah asked. "I didn't know there was one in Pine Crest."

"There isn't, but there is in Bridleville. And don't act so surprised. You knew it! You saw it in the glass! Grace left a note saying she and Buzz were eloping, but she didn't say where they were going. So you tell me!"

"How do you expect me to know that?"

"The same way you knew the other stuff," Debbie said angrily. "Just look in your crystal ball. Where did they go for a honeymoon? Do you see them in a gambling hall in Las Vegas or under palm trees in Florida?"

"I told you I don't have any idea," Sarah said. "You told me yourself you don't believe in the readings. And you're right, it's all just a game. That crystal ball isn't magic, it's nothing but a paperweight."

"Then how did you know they were in a bus terminal?"

"I didn't know," Sarah repeated. "It's pure coincidence. I just popped out with that to be saying something. Get off my back, Debbie. If I knew, I'd tell you, but I don't."

The final bell rang as she slammed the locker door shut and clicked the lock back in place. When she got to her feet, she was relieved to find Debbie was gone—so relieved that she didn't even mind being late to class.

CHAPTER NINE

When Sarah went to bed that night, she picked up the book that Charlie had loaned her and continued reading at the place where she had left off, making notes as she read:

The Reverend Parris invited ministers from neighboring parishes to gather in his home to fray for his daughter's release from the powers of the unknown witch who had enchanted her. While the prayer fest was in session, Betty Parris and her cousin, Abigail, raced into the room screaming that they were being chased by evil spirits. The other girls were summoned to explain this behavior, and convinced the ministers that they, too, were affected by demons.

The Reverend Parris asked desperately, "Tell us, if you can, who has afflicted you thus?"

At that the leader of the group, Ann Putnam, responded, "I am not afflicted. I am very well, Minister." Then, in immediate contradiction, she hurled herself to the floor, thrashing as though in agony and shrieking, "Please, Minister, tell them to leave me alone! I will never put my name to the devil's book, no matter how they hurt me!"

Stunned by this statement, Parris asked the other girls if they knew who was directing demons to torment poor Ann.

Betty, who had dozed off in a corner of the room, stirred in her sleep and murmured as if from a dream, "It's Tituba."

The other girls quickly agreed, and added, "Tituba is not alone!" They then named two other women from the village—Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn—and identified them as witches also.

Sarah fell asleep with the book in her hands, and soon was swept into a dream so vivid that it surpassed everyday reality. However, this dream was not a replay of what she had just read. Rather than a kitchen or a parlor, the setting was a church—a church that seemed so familiar that she could not believe she had not attended it many times. It was filled with dark benches, and she was seated in the front row. She knew there were girls on either side of her, but she was smaller than they were and could not see their faces. In a line in front of the girls stood three frightened-looking women. Behind these women there was a long table lined with solemn-faced men, and behind the table was the pulpit.

One of the men leaned forward and addressed himself to Sarah.

"What do you have to say of these women?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Sarah whispered, averting her eyes.

"Don't look away when I ask you a question," the man said irritably. "It makes it appear as if you have something to be ashamed of."

Sarah gazed up into eyes that were bulging with intensity, as if the pressure of all God's angels were shoving them outward so that they could more closely inspect evil. For one horrible moment she feared that they might burst from their sockets and come rolling across the table to land in her lap.

"Nothing," she said more loudly. "I have nothing to say about them."

But the instant the words left her lips, the girl on her left began shrieking, "Judge Hathorne, they are scratching me and biting me! I feel their teeth in my legs! Dear God, they are going to kill me!"

Then the rest of the girls on either side of Sarah began to scream.

The faces of the three women immediately became distorted, swirling and swimming like the images in the crystal paperweight, but just before they lost all resemblance to humans, they became recognizable as faces Sarah knew and recognized.

That was the point at which she herself began screaming, and she was screaming still when her mother shook her awake.

"Sarah, honey, wake up!" Rosemary was her mother again, the same dear mother who had held and rocked her as a child. "Everything's all right! It's just a bad dream."

"A dream?" Sarah murmured. A dream? But it had seemed so real! She reached for her mother's hand and grasped it tightly, like a lifeline leading back to sanity.

"Do you want me to stay here with you for a while?" Rosemary asked her.

"Rosie, no." Ted's voice came from behind her. "You don't spend the night sitting by the bed of a seventeen-year-old. Sarah's a little bit old to be afraid of the dark, don't you think?"

"Ted... if she's frightened—"

"I'm fine," Sarah said stiffly. "I'm certainly not afraid of the dark. It was just a nightmare based on something I was reading. Go on back to bed, Rosemary."

"You're sure you're all right?" her mother asked doubtfully.

"Totally sure," Sarah told her, aware of Ted still hovering disdainfully in the doorway. "And you can go back to bed too, Ted. I don't go plunging into your bedroom without an invitation, so I'll thank you not to come barging into mine."

The truth was, however, that she wasn't "totally sure" she was all right. After her mother's comforting presence was gone, the strands of the terrifying dream still held her ensnared. She thought about Betty Parris's dreams, the ones that had led to the behavior that had caused her to be diagnosed as bewitched. Sarah had a sense that she knew what the little girl's dreams had been, but refused to allow herself to dwell upon them. It was bad enough to have dreamed about the child who had experienced them.

Reluctant to fall back to sleep for fear she might dream again, she lay tensely awake until dawn, when she finally allowed herself to doze. Jolted awake minutes later by the blast of the alarm clock, she dragged on her clothes and stumbled out into the yard to wait for Charlie, so heavy-brained and groggy that she hardly knew what she was doing.

Charlie, when he arrived, seemed equally uncommunicative. After ten minutes of silence, broken only by occasional admonishments about where to throw papers, he switched on the radio. To Sarah's surprise, instead of the country music that most of the stations carried, she heard the soothing sounds of woodwinds accompanied by a harp.

"What station is that?" she asked him.

"It's a tape," Charlie said, reaching quickly for the eject button. "I was playing it on my way over. I'll get something else."

"No, leave it on," Sarah said. "That's my kind of music. The kids I ran with back home used to listen to it all the time. Where did you buy it, anyway? I wasn't aware of a store here that sells New Age music."

"Don't bother looking, because there isn't one," Charlie said. "All you're going to find is country, gospel, and Golden Oldies."

"But wouldn't you think there would be a market for something a little different? I mean, not everybody is drawn to exactly the same thing when it comes to entertainment."

"Bite your tongue," Charlie said. "We don't talk like that in Pine Crest. On the surface at least, 'entertainment' around here means church suppers and G-rated movies. The last time somebody here had the gall to open a store that sold anything controversial, it was burned down."

"You're kidding!" Sarah exclaimed. "What kind of store was it?"

"A little mom-and-pop bookstore that carried some books that people didn't approve of. Mind you, I'm not talking porno, I'm talking philosophy. Along with the Bibles and dictionaries and mysteries and romances, they carried books about things like reincarnation and feminism and Eastern religions. In the middle of the night a fire broke out in the store. The owner, who lived next door, woke up and saw the flames. He called the fire department, but they never showed up. Later they blamed the owner for not giving the right address. The owner tried to put out the flames on his own and caught fire himself."

"The poor man!" Sarah exclaimed. "I know now how painful burns are!"

"This was worse than with your mother," Charlie said. "Both his legs had to be amputated. The store was burned to the ground."

"That's a horrible story," Sarah said. "But how did they know it was arson? Couldn't it have been an accident, like maybe the wiring was defective or—"

"The owner had received some sketches of a burning cross in the mail," Charlie said. "At the time he didn't know what to make of them. Afterward he figured they'd been meant as a warning."

"Did he show the pictures to the police?"

"The police weren't interested. There's nothing illegal about mailing a picture."

"Where do you get your tapes if you can't buy them here?" Sarah asked.

"I get a catalog in the mail from a store in Arizona. They sell tapes and books and a lot of other interesting stuff. They even sell crystal balls that look like your paperweight."

"I suppose they advertise them as magic," Sarah said derisively.

"No, just as tools for people to use when they're meditating," He reached over and turned off the tape. "The music must be hypnotizing you. "You missed two houses. We'll have to go around the block and hit them again."

They finished the route in the same silence in which they had begun it. As they pulled up in front of Sarah's house, Charlie said, "You can borrow the tape if you want it."

Thanks, I'd like that," Sarah said. "I listen to mine so much that they're getting pretty old."

"Speaking of borrowing, how are you doing on that witch-hunt book?"

"I'm only partway through it," Sarah admitted. "I'm sorry to be so slow, but the subject gives me nightmares. Last night I woke up screaming, which didn't go over well with... other people in our house."

"I'm not reacting to it any too well myself," Charlie said. "I had a dream..." He let the sentence trail off;

Sarah was intrigued despite herself. "What kind of a dream?"

"I felt like there were weights on my chest and I was suffocating. What did you dream about?"

"Nothing as bad as that," Sarah said, although she wasn't sure that she meant it. Her nightmare had been about as bad as they come.

"Look, before you take off, there's something I need to say to you," Charlie said. "I'm probably going to make you mad like I did the other day, but I feel like I've got to say it anyway."

"Okay, say it," Sarah said.

"I hear you had a run-in with Debbie Rice."