Scarecrow (32 page)

Girlie paused to catch her breath, looked back to see that I was still following. I nodded encouragement and we went on.

Micah’s with Seth…
but where? And why? And what would happen to Rachel out here all alone, helpless and afraid? Had Seth finally reached the limits of his self-control? Had the tenuous hold on reality fatally snapped? And then another thought struck me that made me stumble, cry out under my breath…what if he’d counted on all of us leaving to search for him? What if, even at this very second, he was trailing down the hallway to Franny’s room, calmly prepared to end her life forever? Maybe he’d be dressed as a scarecrow. Or maybe…maybe he’d have Micah with him…

The thought was too horrible to bear. I plunged ahead recklessly, and Girlie jumped, then froze, startled at my noise. I froze with her, my heart lodged in my throat.
Oh God, help Franny…help Rachel…help us…

Rachel should have been home long ago. Putting supper on the table, smiling as Girlie sang some funny, off-key song…
and Franny would say something with that mischievous twinkle in her eye, and Micah would glance up shyly from his plate, and Seth would walk through the door…

I knew then what I had to do.

Even if it meant hardships I’d never imagined…dangers I’d never dreamed of.

Because nothing could be worse than the danger here now, hiding, waiting all around me.

I would get Girlie home to Rachel.

And then, somehow, I would find the road.

I would take them with me, and we would never come back. No matter how long it took…no matter how difficult.

We came out at the foot of a gentle rise, trees staggered like drunken sentinels along the horizon. It was clearer here, open. With a surge of hope I broke into a run, grabbing Girlie’s hand, not stopping till we’d cleared the ridge and started down into a wide, rugged hollow. For the hundredth time I berated myself for not coming more prepared—no extra clothes, no food, no lantern, not even a weapon to use if we had to. Girlie seemed subdued, the fear gone from her eyes. Knowing her uncanny perceptions, I began to relax a little, sensing that maybe the dangers were past. Miles slipped back beneath our feet—everything looked strange and ill-marked—shadows where there shouldn’t have been…drifts I stumbled into and never saw—and slowly, slowly a sprinkling of snow that crystallized the air around us. I wanted to go faster, but it hurt to breathe. Girlie stumbled and fell. I lugged her into my arms and trudged on, holding her to my chest. All the energy seemed to go out of her then. She curled against me, a dead weight, and I strained my eyes through the thickening flakes.

“We’re going to get lost,” I said in her ear. “I can hardly see a thing.” And it came to me in a half-amused way that I was facing Death one more time, and that maybe—just maybe—he would win this round. At least it would be peaceful; I’d always heard so, just growing cold, then strangely and pleasantly unfeeling, and then the sweet, easy slipping into sleep.

“There,” Girlie said. “There.” And she was pulling on my sleeve, and I realized with amazed admiration that she’d been bringing us here all along.

About ten feet ahead of us was a shed, much like the one I’d found Seth’s things in back near the woods. I remembered now that they were all over the property, built for storing tools and serving as shelters in emergencies. Gratefully I ran the last few yards and swung open the door.

It smelled of dust and damp, but was wonderfully snug and safe from the wind. I shut us in and saw with delight that there were blankets and old feed sacks, some lanterns on a shelf, matches, some odd assorted jars. Girlie went at once and lit a lamp. Then as I scrounged through the blankets, trying to ignore the mouse droppings, she unscrewed one of the jar lids and offered me a long stiff strip of something. I bit down cautiously and smiled. Beef jerky had never tasted so good.

I spread some sacks on the floor, then piled the blankets on top. We’d be warm and toasty now once we climbed in and covered up, and I felt reasonably optimistic that we could hold out till morning.

Girlie took several more beef sticks, then lifted down the lantern from the shelf.

I saw her eyes go wide, saw her stiffen as she stared at something in the corner.

I felt my body go prickly all over, the hair rise on my neck, as I turned to follow her eyes.

Her lips worked slowly, one hand lifting to point. “Rachel,” she whispered.

And I saw the axe.

And the blood.

But it wasn’t Rachel my mind saw now—images that brought me weakly to my knees—

It was Dewey and the place where his stomach should have been.

THIS
CAN’T BE HAPPENING…
this cannot be happening to me…

After what seemed like hours, my eyes lifted, sought Girlie in the half-formed shadows, settled on her with emotions too deep for words.

She didn’t look at me. She stared at the wall, her shoulders going rigid. She seemed locked in the depths of some new terror that wouldn’t let go, and though I tried coaxing her, soothing her, she wouldn’t respond.

“You don’t know what’s happened,” I whispered. “We can’t be sure. Not of anything.” Yet even to myself my words seemed lame. I took her in my arms and she didn’t resist me, but she wouldn’t speak a word and her eyes never left the axe until at long last she fell into restless sleep.

I wished that I could join her, drift into a deep oblivion and awaken again to find all the nightmares vanished—
Rachel would be pouring coffee…bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove…fresh baked bread…and listen to the others…Franny and Seth and Micah and Girlie, all working out behind the barn…and—oh look!—there’s Kerry
—
he’s come to help build a snowman…and Brad…“Pam, where
h
ave you been? We’ve looked everywhere…we’ve all been so worried…
”

I roused myself, incoherent with weariness. My eyes immediately picked out the axe, drawn there by magnets of fear. It had probably been used to kill an animal. Nothing strange about that, not out here anyway. And maybe that stain smearing the blade…dripping down onto the floor-maybe that wasn’t blood at all…maybe…
but why had Girlie looked so terrified?

It came to me then that Girlie had known about Seth all along, and the thought staggered me. She had known about the secret grave—where it was and what was in it—she hadn’t hesitated a moment taking me there. And the tragedy of it all was inconceivable to me. A little girl growing up with danger the way Girlie had, her own father a prisoner of those dark, fatal moods which could strike without warning…How had the others been able to stand it—even if Micah and Franny hadn’t suspected how bad it all really was, they had lived with Seth’s rages long enough never to risk going against him. And Rachel…dear, kind Rachel…who had stood by him all these years, faithful, silent—I don’t know why you’re always trying to protect everybody, Franny had said—and now I found myself marveling at the depth of her loyalty and love.
Loyalty? Love? Or fear for her life?

My arms were beginning to ache. I lowered Girlie carefully and lay close to her, pulling the blankets over us, keeping the lantern burning. I tried to sleep but my heart raced out of control. Every noise in the night sent me into a panic. I wondered where Rachel was, if she was dead. And Seth…if he was still alive. And waiting out there…somewhere…

When dawn came at last it crept quietly on gray feet. I didn’t remember sleeping at all, though my mind had teemed with horrible dreams all night long. My stomach was gnawing emptily, and my body was stiff and aching. I roused Girlie and met her troubled, confused stare with a confidence I didn’t feel. We finished off the jerky, then extinguished the light. Slowly I opened the door and peeked out.

The world was muffled and dull beneath an overcast sky, but the snow had stopped falling, and a glimmer along the eastern hills predicted possible sunshine. For a moment I considered taking the axe with us, then decided against it. It was too heavy to lug along, and if it was still here, then that meant Seth didn’t have it. Feeling little comforted by that thought, I closed up the shack and we went on our way.

The woods still seemed threatening, but not nearly so much in the light of day. We made our way much faster now—Girlie never hesitated in her directions—and before another two hours had passed, the chimney finally came into view, rising smokeless beyond the next rise. I felt my heart sink when I saw it. Up until that very moment I’d really kept telling myself that it was all some terrible mistake, some crazy set of bizarre coincidences. But now I felt my body growing numb with an awful certainty. If there was no fire, then Rachel wasn’t here to keep one. The house must be freezing by now. I didn’t even want to think about what had happened to poor Franny.

We came along the back of the barn, past the woodpile with the empty stump beside it, and stared up at the house sitting before us, foreboding in its terrible silence. It seemed to fill my vision; all that existed now was fear and this house. I let go of Girlie’s hand and knelt to look into her eyes.

“You stay here, understand?”

She gazed back at me, gave a slight nod.

“Right here,” I emphasized. “Wait till I go in and have a look around. And if you see anyone—or anything at all—don’t come in for me. Run away. Understand?” I watched her, gauging her reactions to my orders. There was no fear in her eyes, no premonition of danger that I could see. If Seth was inside…waiting…
oh, Girlie, if you really have that Gift, then use it for me now.

I hugged her, then turned quickly away, feeling her big eyes on my back as I went up the steps and tried the back door.

Cold air hit me like a draft in a cave. I could tell at a glance that no one had been here. The kitchen was just as I’d left it. The fire in the stove was out. I opened my mouth to call, then closed it again without speaking. My footsteps sounded hollow and intrusive. I had to fight an overwhelming urge to flee.
He could be anywhere…

The thought paralyzed me for a second. I stood rooted to the floor, ice pumping painfully through my veins, the room blurring around me. I could see him in my mind—dark piercing eyes lit with a mad glimmer…hands stained with blood…curled around a knife, a gun, a pitchfork…part of the deepest shadows…seeing me…but knowing I couldn’t see him…even as I walked through the house…my back to the lurching footsteps that followed…

I wheeled, terror choking me, as something groaned. I saw the door settling in its frame, my breath coming out in a rush. I pulled myself together, made myself cross to the doorway, out into the hall.

The house was silent as a tomb.

For several long minutes I stood there, plans forming in my brain, fading, forming again until I felt dizzy and had to lean against a wall. The first thing I had to do was check on Franny…then somehow find out if Rachel was—
what?
Somehow the word wouldn’t come for me, the finality too painful to consider. Whatever happened, I couldn’t leave now, couldn’t make my break for help and freedom. Not until I knew for certain about Rachel, not until I knew what to do with Girlie.

The parlor was deserted, the fire smoldering, nearly dead. I didn’t pause to stir it up, but went immediately up the stairs, my feet slow and stupid, my body pressed against the wall. As I neared the top, I hung back, listening, then carefully slid one hand around the corner of the wall…easing myself inch by inch out into the passageway.
He could be anywhere…anywhere…

“Rachel?” I whispered. “Franny? It’s me—Pam.” Foolish to announce my whereabouts, foolish, I knew, to give myself away like that, but somehow just hearing my own voice made me feel braver, and my heart fluttered back into my chest, giving me room to breathe. I put out my hands on either side of me, pushing myself weakly along the hallway, stopping at last outside Franny’s room, straining my ears for some sound…some hope.

“Franny?” I spoke again, but my voice sounded very faraway, and when I leaned against the door, it held fast.
Funny…I don’t remember closing her door when I left yesterday.
And reason came through to me slowly, much too slowly…for as I put my full weight against the door, as it groaned reluctantly inward…then stopped…as I pushed, pushed…that soft resistance…that solid something blocking it from the other side—

“Oh, my God—Franny—”

For I saw it then, as my eyes dropped automatically to the floor, wondering what it was that held the door from the other side—I saw it then, the muddy toe of a boot lodged there between me and the rest of the room, between me and Franny’s bed—

A scream started up from my throat…hung there…my eyes in a second, sweeping over Franny’s bed…
empty
—

“What have you done with her!”
I shrieked, and my body crashed full force against the door, sending whatever was behind it sprawling with a muddled thump—my body bouncing off again as something smashed into my shoulder, jarring me with pain, spraying slivers of bloodied wood all over as I bolted for the hallway and down the stairs.

I fell into the hall, scrambling to keep my balance, and as I came down on one knee and cried out, I heard him in the hallway overhead, thudding down the stairs behind me. I hurled myself through the kitchen, out the back door, saw Girlie, all eyes and open mouth, frozen there as I snatched her up and began running for the barn.

“He’s in the house—we’ve got to hide—” I was panting for breath, and Girlie was twisting in my grasp, her mouth opening and closing in a desperate attempt at speech.

“No…no…” she kept babbling, and as my eyes blurred with tears I wiped them furiously away.
Yes, Girlie, I’m afraid he’ll kill us, too, you and me both, just like Micah and Dewey, just like Rachel and Franny…

“No,” Girlie moaned again, and I got the barn door latched behind us, my eyes wildly sweeping the barn for a weapon, some defense, anything…

I saw it standing in the corner where Seth had left it.

With trembling hands I picked it up, weighing it clumsily, searching for the trigger.

I’d never even shot a gun before.

I only hoped it was loaded.