The Curse of Crow Hollow (43 page)

“I don't know. Nothing. Everything. Sometimes I think whatever happened, happened here. It wilted in Crow Holler,
then finally died and fell away over there. And I guess I'm just trying to get back what I lost.”

“I can help you,” the preacher said.

“I don't think anything can help me. Time. Maybe that.”

“Time only lasts so long, John David. This week's taught us all that. The days are dark and the burden is heavy.”

“Don't try to witness to me, Daddy.”

“It's my job.”

“No. It isn't. Your job is to comfort these people, not whip them into a frenzy.”

“We are soldiers, John David. We fight the good fight. Part of that is calling evil what it is and rooting it out.”

“That what you're doing in this service tonight? Rooting it out?”

“That's exactly what I'm doing,” the Reverend said. “This town was pure, maybe the witch would've never come. All that stands between the shadow and the light are men willing to take up and fight. There's a peace that only comes with war. You should know that.”

“All I know is the people who say such things are never the ones who have to take up and do the fighting. They leave that to the common folk. Maybe you suffer and bleed, you'd think otherwise.”

“Don't you challenge me,” the Reverend said.

“And don't you pretend to think I don't know what I'm saying, because I do. You call other people evil, fine. But know when you do, those people are calling you the same.”

He eased away from the wall and made for the door. The preacher watched his son go and said, “Was a good thing Bucky did, making you constable and getting you away from Chessie Hodge.”

“You'd take the time to understand Chessie, you might think different.”

“I know her heart,” the Reverend said, “that's all I need. She's dealt with the devil just as much as the witch has, and it's led just as much to our ruin.”

“That a fact?” John David asked.

“It is.”

John David opened the door. “Sometimes I think the same's true of you.”

-7-

Most kids around here grow up with the wild. They suckle as much from nature's breast as they do their momma's, fishing the mountain streams and hunting along its ridges, whiling away the summer days in fields of sage and honeysuckle. But Hays had no such memories to comfort him. Kayann Foster grumbled even of the dirt roads that sullied her car and the summer flies that latched to her clothing; the mere mention of what dirt and crawlies lived in the woods made her shudder. And Landis? He would happily speak to the pleasures of taking inventory at the grocery, but that man remained ignorant of the bliss to be found in the Holler's lonely places. So I guess you can imagine Hays thought he'd never get out of them woods alive, and how what was chasing him had little to do with it.

I don't know how long he ran. I know there was no method to it and no particular direction, because there was no way for him to tell where lay the safety of town. He simply ran as Scarlett had the night John David had not seen her—away.

He'd had no idea the witch's reach had extended so far into Crow Holler. That Medric was one of Alvaretta's demons couldn't be understood. Hays cared much for that man but his parents never had, said they couldn't respect anyone who made his life by peddling death. But there was no denying Medric's
heart now. And the men with Raleigh, that Circle he spoke of? All of them had worn demon faces beneath their hoods. And friend, that only begged the question of how many more of them were in town. How many neighbors and friends? How many monsters, waiting for the witch's command to kill them all? You think about it like that, maybe being alone in the wilderness wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, I'd say Hays Foster was about the safest person in all of Crow Holler right then. He kept pushing his way through the trees, turning to look for who may be chasing him, trying without success to find a signal on his phone. No one followed him. Raleigh and his merry band were already on their way to town, intending to dispense a final stroke of justice.

The sprint that had carried Hays away from the Circle slowed to something well short of a fast walk. His breaths were labored and deep, his legs unable to keep moving. He finally collapsed against a fallen walnut tree and tilted his face to wisps of clouds colored red and orange by the setting sun. There, Hays Foster waited for death to call him. No doubt the Dark Angel would have, friend. I'd say that specter was there even then, waiting as it waited for all in Crow Holler. And yet Hays then did something wholly unexpected as he kept his eyes to the broken places of sky beyond the tall trees around him. He began to pray.

So far as I know, it was only the second time in that boy's life he'd lifted his voice heavenward, the first coming the night before at Reverend Ramsay's altar. His words weren't flowery like the Reverend's, nor filled with grief as was Angela's or Cordelia's on the times they'd offered them. Five words in all, but then I guess you could say they were the five that most mattered:

“Tell me what to do.”

There came no answer. No Spirit descending from the
sky as a dove, no burning bush, no stone tablets writ by the Almighty's hand. Only emptiness filled that boy. Only emptiness ever had.

Somewhere close, a twig snapped. Hays sank beneath the log. He saw nothing in the trees but a fluttering leaf.

A sound again. Not someone stepping over a branch. More like a scrape. Wood over stone.

Hays rolled to his side and jumped up in one motion. This time he ran even faster than he'd fled from Raleigh's demons, certain they'd followed or—worse—that Stu Graves had found him. Evening fell upon the woods, blending the trees into one, but Hays refused to slow. He bounced off some and ran into others. Each blow stole what small amount of strength of him remained.

He looked near to surrendering again when he saw the clearing ahead and tumbled through the last of the trees. A cabin and barn rested in the middle, along with a struggling garden out back. Hays uttered a cry as he stopped, and I think that was because his mind had twisted things so far as to think he'd arrived once more at Alvaretta's. But this was not the Graves homeplace. The house was larger and the barn newer, and the truck parked between them was not Stu's, but the rusting Chevy that Briar Hodge sometimes drove.

“Chessie?” he screamed. “Mr. Hodge?” Running for the porch, looking over his shoulder, where there was nothing now but forest. “John David?”

Hays banged on the door. No one answered. He ran to the barn and rolled open the big doors. No one. Yet here, his panic went quiet.

Lined against the barn's far wall were crates filled with jars glimmering with the clear liquid of Briar Hodge's famous moonshine. Gallons of it, packed neatly and with care. Waiting not for delivery, but for Hays himself.

Tell me what to do, he'd prayed back at that fallen tree. The answer had not come, not there and then. It had instead waited for Hays to pick himself up and go looking for it, and in that I do believe that boy found the only lesson of the spirit he'd ever receive. He knew what to do now. There were monsters in Crow Holler, and that was a sorry thing. But no one but him could see the monsters, and that was worse. Everyone Hays knew in his life, his parents and his friends, Cordelia and their baby, were at the mercy of the witch. The only one who could make things right was Hays, because he was the only one who had been cursed with the truth.

He ran back to Briar's truck and found the keys in the ignition—yet another small miracle to prove this was all the Lord's doing. The revving engine broke the forest's silence. Hays backed up to the doors and left the engine running. He headed to town twenty minutes later with all but two cases of Briar's moonshine jostling in the truck's bed.

XIV

The service. The Circle arrives. Monsters. Blood flows in the Holler. Burn it all. Stu comes for Wilson.

-1-

You can believe it was standing room only at the Holy Fire that night; not even all the chairs brought over from the council building were enough. People piled into the pews and the aisles, into the choir loft above the sanctuary, even behind the pulpit. Any place big enough to put a body, Reverend Ramsay put one there. Wilson helped, along with the other deacons. All but the head one, of course. Everybody wanted to know where Raleigh'd run off to. That man hadn't missed a service since Eugenia left.

Most everybody came: Belle and Naomi had sought refuge in the church most of that day. Bucky walked over from the council building and met Angela and Cordelia at the steps. The mayor came along by himself. Scarlett followed later, though only in body. Her spirit seemed to lay elsewhere. She had spent quite a long time with Chessie and Briar, along with a new pad and pen. Every piece of that paper had been used up by the time Chessie had all she needed. Both Foster parents arrived late, though I expect the only reason they showed up was to make sure Bucky hadn't found Hays, who was nowhere around. They went on and sat down anyway. Kayann understood their absence would only make Hays look more guilty in the eyes of Crow Holler.

The front row had been blocked off for those that mattered. Wilson sat on the end with Scarlett, though I suppose she'd tell you she wasn't sitting with her daddy near as much as she was sitting with Briar. On Briar's other side sat Maris Sullivan. Bucky sat with her and Cordelia. He tried to tell Maris he agreed Danny was innocent, but Maris had gone quiet. And wouldn't you know it, John David stood against the wall next to the side door, attending church for the first time since leaving for the war. He held his arms crossed like he always did. Much like Scarlett, he'd come more for the Hodges than for his own family.

Angela sashayed about in that red dress she liked so much. She shook what people's hands she could reach and waved to the ones she couldn't, flashing her best smile. This was Angela's big moment, and no way would she let that moment pass without sopping up every bit of pleasure in it. Bucky had brought in the witch's spies, you see. To Angela's mind, that meant she'd had just as much a hand in it as Bucky. “I believed in Bucky when nobody else did,” is what she told everybody. She finished her lap around the sanctuary and waved at those in the choir loft, then took her place between Bucky and Cordelia.

On the stage to the side of the pulpit sat three metal chairs. That's where Medric, Danny, and Chessie waited for judgment. Seeing those three would remind you of one a them pictures they show in school of man's evolution. Medric leaned so far forward in his chair that he looked like a ball. His elbows rested on his thighs and his eyes were to the floor. Danny Sullivan fared little better. The day had worn on him such that it looked a migraine had broken out in him. He too was hunched, though less so than Medric. His hand moved over his eyes and forehead, massaging them. Every once in a while he'd glance to Maris and mouth
I'm sorry
over and over. Only Chessie remained
tall—back straight, eyes forward, hands in her lap—as calm and sure as she would be sitting on her porch at home.

David Ramsay came through the side door at seven o'clock exactly, just as the full moon rose over Crow Holler. He carried his Bible in one hand. The other gripped a large metal bowl with a plain white towel inside, and a pitcher of water he'd prayed over from the fountain in the hallway. A hum fell over the crowd as he walked up the stage. Never once did the Reverend look at the three accused. He laid the bowl and pitcher at Chessie's feet and turned to the people.

“And all God's people said . . .”

“Amen,” came the chorus.

“Amen,” he whispered back. “Brothers and sisters, we've spent each night here under heavy burden, seeking the hand of the Lord to guide us through what the darkness has wrought. We've prayed together, sung together, lifted up our hearts as one for God's favor. And yet that favor has not come.”

He turned a little and looked at Chessie. She kept her eyes to Briar.

“Long did I pray, asking the Father why still we suffer. That answer came when our Sheriff Vest brought news that the witch has aid in her doings, aid that came not from the evil of hell, but the evil inside the human heart. It has been determined by myself and Mayor Bickford that the three who sit behind me have colluded to bring about the rot that has overtaken Crow Holler. I will give evidence of their deeds. I will tell you how it was that Medric Johnston came to deliver the body of Stu Graves to Alvaretta so she might raise him up for her vengeance.”

A gasp came from the congregation, making Medric shrink more.

“I will tell you how our very own doctor offered aid to Alvaretta by procuring her food and medicine that kept her body strong so that she might weaken us all.”

“No,” Maris said from the front, “No, I will not have this,” but she was shouted down by those behind her.

“I will tell you how Chessie Hodge brought the Lord's wrath upon us—partaking in the devil's schemes by peddling her filth and cleansing her own conscience by corrupting us all with her gains. I will tell you all of this, brothers and sisters, though it pains me. Yes, it pains me.” David grimaced. I don't know if that was for show or if he truly did feel that hurt. “The Word says pride goeth before a fall. Well, we have all fallen. We writhe and moan in the dirt when we should soar with the angels. It is humility we lack, not faith. Meekness rather than love. That is why the witch holds power. Alvaretta Graves is our judgment, and the demon she's called forth is our sentence. And yet, still we may turn. ‘If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.' ”

“Amen,” they all sang, and Amen again.