The Sacrificial Daughter (17 page)

Just then an image of her came to her: she was following the road which ended at an abandoned mine, in its depths a shadow lurked.

She shook her head to clear the image away, but it was replaced by another one. This time of an abandoned hotel, where the doors hung crooked and the windows were shattered and a light in an upstairs room flickered as if from a sputtering candle. In each vision she knew who it was that waited on her arrival.

"Oh crap, oh, crap."

Her fear of the killer and of being lost seemed to be intertwining making each grow greater than they had been. Her panic made her careless and she stepped oddly on a rock and tripped. Her ankle flared and she nearly cried out, yet the possibility of what could be out there, searching for her, had her clamping her lips hard together despite the pain.

She hurried on with a slight limp, and was just wondering how much worse her day could get when, like it was a miracle vision coming to life before her very eyes, she saw lights twinkling in the early dusk. The town was there before her not two hundred yards away. She could see the brightly lit sign for the Ashton Bowling Center standing out like a beacon just down the hill.

"Thank God," she whispered. Powerful relief ran through her; the emotion was so strong that she had to grab a tree branch to keep from sagging to her knees. The feeling was a little astonishing as well. She had never been lost before and the sensation, looking back, was singular and indescribable. Like drowning it had to be experienced in all its horrible reality to be properly understood.

It took her over a minute to calm herself well enough to go on again, and she did heading directly for the lights. However as much as she wanted to Jesse didn't rush the final two-hundred yards. She flitted as stealthily as possible trying to keep to the deepest shadows.

"You're not out of the woods, yet," she whispered to herself. Not even close. If the killer was anywhere, it would be in precisely a spot like this. Just deep enough into the woods not to be seen, but close enough to come out if an opportunity presented herself. She knew she was exactly that sort of possibility, but still it came as a soul tearing surprise when she heard a male voice suddenly speak.

"Who is that creeping out there?"

He was very close only a few feet away and his voice held such a dangerous quality that Jesse froze in place and literally trembled like a rabbit caught out in the open by the wolf.

"Who is that creeping out there?"

Her fear had paralyzed her to such an extent that Jesse couldn't move if she wanted to. Even the idea of screaming seemed well beyond her at that moment since she was finding it impossible to breathe.

"Come on...show yourself!" the voice challenged. The words held a combination of harshness, violence, and...fear? Was it possible that he was afraid as well? And if so didn't logic suggest that the speaker wasn't the killer; for after all what could make a killer afraid?

The notion unloosened the chains that were wrapped around her chest and just like that Jesse felt she could breathe again. Tentatively, she took a step forward, when suddenly someone else spoke up into the dark.

"It's just me, Mr. Mendel...Kyle's father?"

She recalled the voice with perfect clarity. It was only a few nights before that she had heard it under similar circumstances. Yet she didn't speak up. At his initial utterance, she was so shocked that there was someone else in the woods so close to her that her throat had locked up tight.

"Oh, Mr. Mendel...hey," replied the first voice, quivering a little as if its owner was getting over a scare. It seemed much younger, much more relaxed than it had only a moment before.

"I'm looking for Kyle," Mr. Mendel said, coming forward toward the younger man. "Are you a friend of his?"

"Ky? Well, I uh..." There was an uncomfortable moment of silence after he said this and it took Jesse that much time to figure out why. Ky was Kyle Mendel. It was like a light was thrown on her head and she understood perfectly the awkward moment. Ky didn't have friends, but how do you say that to someone's well-meaning dad?

You didn't. Instead you lied.

"Ky...yeah. We hang out sometimes. I don't know if you remember me. I'm John Osterman. My dad used to work down at the plant with you?"

"Oh right...Bill's kid," Mr. Mendel said in that friendly way of his. Jesse wondered if he spoke that way because of the way his son was so over the top anti-social.

"Look, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell my dad I was out here smoking," John said. Only then did Jesse see the little ember in his hand. She had thought it to be one of the background lights.

"Sure...as long as I can bum a smoke."

Inside her Jesse felt a strange longing to be near people. She wanted to say something but was a little worried how they would react to her presence since neither seemed to see her in her all black attire so she spoke softly.

"Excuse me, I..." It was all she had time to get out.

"Holy Crap!" John practically shrieked. They both appeared to jump out of their shoes. With her relief at finding other people, she had become giddy and at their reaction she almost laughed.

"Who is that?" Mr. Mendel demanded. His sudden surprise made his voice strident and angry, which stopped Jesse in her tracks. She had been stepping out from the deeper shadows, yet now hesitated.

"It's me, Jesse...I met you the other night, at the berm. Remember?"

"Oh, yes," Mr. Mendel replied. He did not seem altogether happy and Jesse didn't really blame him; she had given him a tremendous fright. John Osterman didn't seem happy either, rather the opposite. He was a silent black shadow that seemed to radiate hate. She didn't recognize his name, but he probably knew hers just fine.

Because of the possible ramifications of that, Jesse silently thanked God for the presence of Mr. Mendel. Who knows what would have happened if she had stumbled across this John Osterman while alone.

"I'm sorry about scaring you like that," Jesse said, stepping out of the shadows and coming up close to Mr. Mendel. Because of the dark, she stood much closer to him than she normally would have and got a good a look at his face. The resemblance between father and son was obvious now she knew they were related. Mr. Mendel was handsome, a shade taller than Ky, and wore his thick hair in much the same fashion as his son. He also carried with him the same sort of intenseness.

At night like that, after her fearful trek through the forest, that intenseness had Jesse stepping back with growing alarm. His eyes were as black as the devil and though he said nothing, she could tell his emotions were running high. He was angry. More so than the situation warranted in Jesse's opinion; she took another step back, closer to John, whom she now silently thanked for his presence. Really what did she know about Jerry Mendel...almost nothing, except for the fact that he had one seriously messed up son. Perhaps Mr. Mendel was abusive and cruel.

"Really...I-I'm sorry about scaring you like that," Jesse stammered out. The silence which had accompanied her first apology had been unnerving and she had felt a dire need to break it. But this second apology was only met with more silence and was worse. "I-I saw Kyle," she said lamely, hoping to spark some sort of response.

It worked.

Mr. Mendel seemed to grow warm at the sound of his son's name. "Really...where?"

"The last I saw him, he was riding his bike down School House road. Just after school." Ky had been maliciously indifferent and had abandoned her. At the moment he had done it there had been hatred in her heart, but now she was clinging to his name.

"Oh, good...I get so worried for him." Mr. Mendel explained. "Are you a friend of his?"

"Uhh..." Jesse gave a glance back at John, foolishly thinking she might get some support. John said nothing. He brought his cigarette up and breathed it in. In the flare of the ember his eyes looked red. Jesse knew his face. He had been standing with Amanda in the hall after Ronny had knocked Jesse down.

Mother-pus-bucket
, Jesse thought to herself. She had definitely found out how her day could have gotten worse. Here she was standing in a killer-infested forest with one man who was odd and unnerving and a boy that looked to want to break her face with his fists.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mendel. I'm new in school, I don't have any...I'm not his friend...yet." She threw that last word in there for two reasons: she felt bad for a man whose son was so bizarre. And she was secretly afraid he'd grow angry again. She'd hate for him to go storming off in a tiff, leaving her alone with John.

Mr. Mendel didn't grow angry. He deflated and looked lost. "That's too bad. Kyle has so few really good friends anymore...but thankfully he has you, right John?"

"Yep...that's right." John was not a good liar, but Mr. Mendel seemed to want to be lied to. "Look, I gotta get back. I don't want anyone getting nervous about me being gone. See you later." This last he said to Jesse. The words made her chest tighten up again as she watched him head down the hill to the bowling alley. Were Ronny, Amanda and that weird blonde girl waiting for him? And would they be waiting on her in a few minutes?

Jesse waited until John was far enough way not hear her and then said to Mr. Mendel, "I have to go also...I have this big paper to write." Technically it wasn't a lie. She did have a paper to write, she just wasn't going to do it.

Mr. Mendel looked to have barely heard. He was staring down the hill at John's retreating back. "Do you think he really is friends with Kyle?"

"I don't know...probably."

The man smiled, perhaps not believing her. "I just hope so. Kyle doesn't have a lot of friends. Not since all of this happened." He waved his hand in the air indicating the woods or maybe the entire town. Jesse understood...not since the killer. "Would you like a ride home? You're not out of my way," Jerry added.

"No...thank you." The reply was instinctive, but sound reasons came to her a second later. Though she had met him twice, he was for all purposes a stranger. Secondly, Kyle was the way he was for a reason; very likely the reason was Mr. Mendel. Third, she just didn't trust him. Of course, she didn't trust anyone in the town just then, with the possible exception of Mr. Daniels, her biology teacher. She didn't trust Mr. Mendel because of the way he had reacted so oddly when she had scared him. Now she knew that might not be exactly fair since a lot of people would've reacted the same way, but trust was trust and it didn't cater to the whims of fair or even of logic.

Logic screamed facts into her mind: She was still a long way from home and the Shadow-man was still out there, stalking. There were moronic teens probably gathering even then for a "Jesse-hunt", and lastly Jesse was just straight up beat down. She was tired, hungry, cold, and in pain, but...

But she didn't trust him.

"Have a good night," she said with a quick wave goodbye. She left him and jogged down in the direction John had taken. Her ankle protested this and when she hit the flat open ground behind the bowling alley, she took to skipping, putting as little weight on her bad leg as possible.

Dangerous as it was she kept to the rear of the buildings, until she saw the Town Hall and then she raced for it. This was another reason she hadn't accepted a ride: her father's office was all of four minutes away from the bowling alley. Chest heaving, she was through the double glass doors in no time.

"Jesse... Jesse Clarke...to see...James Clarke...please," she asked as she expelled great gusts of air.

"Little late to be out jogging. Don't you think?" The receptionist asked. Though her tone and facial expression weren't exactly friendly, they weren't as nasty as they had been the day before. It was something at least. Jesse tried to smile at her little joke, however she was sure it was mostly just a grimace as she continued to gasp for air.

"My father..."

"Is not here."

This was so unexpected that Jesse couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. Twice she looked at the clock on the wall behind the lady and twice it showed a quarter after five. "Where is he?"

The receptionist seemed to consider not telling Jesse, but then she gave a little shrug. "He's at a meeting in Barton. Probably won't be back until late."

What was she going to do now? She had relied on her gut instinct and it had steered right into a corner.

"You can use the phone if you want to," the receptionist suggested. Jesse, who felt as though her brain had been replaced by an old toaster, only looked at the lady not understanding her suggestion. "To call your mother?" the lady added in a voice that was condescending rather than helpful. "You do have another parent, you know."

Jesse lips clamped down hard. What did this woman know about anything? Another parent? Together, Cynthia and James Clarke constituted about half a parent. "I have a cell phone...but thanks."

Turning away from the desk and the grim faced receptionist, Jesse pulled out her cell phone yet didn't dial. She hesitated knowing already the outcome of a call to her mother.

There will only be tears if you dial
, her voice of reason spoke up.

Right as always, but what else could she do? The voice was quiet on this front. Yes tears would come and she had every right to them. In fact just looking at the cell phone she could feel them brewing in her eyes. Just then she hated the phone. It represented a world that she wasn't a part of.

In that world a pretty girl like her would have text messages from a hundred boys too chicken to ask her out in a proper way. She'd have a contact list so long that it would take five minutes to scroll all the way through it. Her phone would be as much a part of her life as her heart and that girl wouldn't be able to live without it.

That was a dream girl, living in a dream world. Jesse was not that girl. To her, the little black cell phone was nothing more than an accessory. It was supposed to be for emergencies, but deep down she knew it wasn't. It was her mom's way to feel good about herself as a parent:
I'm always a phone call away if you ever need me
, was a favorite line of hers.

Right. Sure she was.

In the two years that she owned the phone, Jesse had called her mother a dozen times in need of some sort of help. However, nothing ever constituted an emergency in Cynthia's eyes. And Jesse knew this time would be no different. All that would happen if she were to actually dial the phone is that she would be forced, once again, to face her harsh reality: she was alone in this world. There was no one who loved her, no one to protect her, no one to keep her safe and warm. The harsh reality was that she didn't have parents like everyone else did.

To them she was a prop in their upper-middle class theatrical production. Someone her father could beam proudly at and call, "Honey" when others were around and someone her mother could dress up and parade about at her endless functions if a daughter was called for to make Cynthia look better.

And then the prop was supposed to go back into storage and be forgotten until the next time it was needed. This is where Jesse always seemed to drop the ball. A prop wasn't supposed to make waves.
It
wasn't supposed to get in to fights.
It
wasn't supposed to struggle at school and
It
most definitely wasn't supposed to call
Its
mother when she was in a very important meeting—and she was always in an important meeting.

Jesse looked out the window, but with the light behind her all she saw was a strange ghostly image of herself. Her face seemed distinctly featureless, as if she could be anybody...or no one. Without a word, she put her phone away. Jesse wasn't blind to her reality, but all the same she didn't need to be reminded of the sadness of it anymore than she had to.