Ghosts of Black Bear Mountain, page 29
part #1 of Middwood Series
I closed my eyes to accept the breeze. I needed to breathe, gather my thoughts, then either ask the man on the mountain for help or run like hell. However, no breeze touched me. The air was still. My chest warmed. I wasn't alone. I opened my eyes. I didn't have my glasses, but I could tell something was off. I could see the ground, but it was as though there was something in front of it, a filter of some kind like a distorted pane of glass. I held out my hand, but there was nothing there.
I stepped closer.
Nothing.
I again, stepped closer.
Something started moving toward me. It was as if, the ground itself was rolling after me.
I spun and bolted.
The only thing I could do was try to keep running.
I checked over my shoulder. The blur was right behind me. I turned my head and saw another blur on my left side. I readjusted my course.
The blurs fell away, but I kept running at full speed.
I expected the voice from above to yell out a command to stop or even gun fire, but that didn’t happen. Instead, a low howl bellowed then rose like a horn in military movie. Franklin warned me about the wild animals on my first night. Stupid me, I had just accepted the thought of ghost children, but there were more than spirits to fear and run from in Middwood.
Goosebumps rolled over my back as the call was echoed, the bass tones full of hunger. My pounding heart dropped, as a deeper horror washed over me. I understood; the pieces fell into place. I had fallen into a trap and I was both the prey and prize.
My legs were like bricks. My calf muscles cramped, but I kept running.
* * *
On the ground ahead of me, was the warm line of orange, the crest of the sun breaking over the mountain, but that no longer mattered. I ignored everything that wasn't life or death. First I’d focus on escaping whatever was chasing me. If I survived that then I’d worry about being caught outside before sunrise.
I shifted my weight forward, trying my best to flex and roll my feet as I ran in an attempt to stretch my calves. I huffed. My mouth was completely dry.
As I ran, howls echoed back from various positions of the valley floor. Whatever was behind me was a pack animal, and not the ghost children. I didn't want to stick around to find out any more. They had me surrounded, and they were coming fast.
I grit my teeth, the drive in my head and the pounding in my chest and ears pushed me on.
In front of me was more than three hundred feet of rock and earth. I had never attempted rock climbing, but I had no choice. I had to get to higher ground.
64
I hit the foothill, my bare feet ascending up the slope. The lower part of the ridge I was able to run up. Even when I got more than hundred feet up, it was more of a hike than a climb.
Farther up, the dirt became rock. The cliff was cold, but I was glad most of the rocks had at least one flat surface. There was pain, but there were worse things at this point. I continued my climb, blocking out all thoughts and emotions except for a simple internal mantra. Reach. Pull. Plant. Reach. Pull. Plant. I was exhausted, but if I could keep going, I would reach the summit. It was there. I continued. Reach. Pull. Plant.
My arm reached up and over onto a more open area. I pulled myself up until I could roll onto my back.
I had made it to the top. My chest heaved in between shallow laughs. I opened my eyes. There was another twelve to fifteen feet of fucking rock.
“No. No!” I cursed.
I was on a narrow cliff that was tall and vertically flat.
A bellow boomed from the ravine. It sounded more like a man yelling out a single tone. Not being able to control myself, I twisted over to look below. The blurs shot out from the base of the ridge and raced along the valley floor toward the howls.
A clash of howls and yelps exploded as they fought over the prey.
Carefully, I stood and flattened my body against the mountain. Once I was balanced, I reached up with my right hand and then my left. I searched high and low for any surface I could clutch. I found nothing.
But there was nothing to grab.
No! Keep trying, I argued, I couldn't see what I was doing and panic had already set in.
I bent my knees, searching with my hands for a foot hold of any sort.
Nothing.
"Come on!"
Down to my left was a indention. It was too shallow, but I was desperate. I planted my foot into the crevice and kicked myself up.
I fell.
I flipped over the ledge. Luckily, I only fell a few feet, and caught myself. I dangled from one of the many teeth-shaped rocks.
The growls were replaced with what sounded like happy yips. There was no telling what was below, but I couldn't risk my terror freezing me up. I’d already made that mistake once.
Using my feet, I swung and dropped onto the cliff without falling any further. I dug my fingernails into the mountain, I clung to the rock.
Men's voices came from below. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but there were words. My brain wanted to explode. So many thoughts pulsed through my mind, were they animals or were they men? Had someone come to my rescue? I needed my fucking glasses.
I extended my reach to the next hold.
"Hurry!" a man's voice called.
My mind was playing tricks on me and my whole body hurt, and I couldn't feel my feet. I was exhausted, but I pushed on.
“Are you okay up there?” a man shouted from below.
I froze. Was it real?
“Are you stuck?” he asked.
I tried to swallow, to lubricate my throat to speak. “Hello?”
“Hello?” another man’s voice mocked.
There was a murmuring of voices.
“Hey. Do you need help mister?”
I stopped climbing and trembled as I hugged the cliff. “I’m stuck up here.”
“Climb down.”
“I can’t see. I don’t have my glasses.”
“We can help you.”
“I don’t have my glasses. My legs, I don’t want to fall.”
“Stop being a pussy and come down.”
“Shut up, brother,” the man cursed.
Another voice spoke. He was younger, calm, “I’ll climb up and meet you half way.”
I strained my eyes. He was nothing more than out-of-focus dot at the base of the ridge.
“None of us are good at climbing, but I’ll try if you do.”
He and I both held our spots for a few movements. My mind was fighting me; I didn’t know what to do. He moved to the boulders and began to climb.
I pushed the flooding thoughts away and began my descent.
“He’s coming down,” the first male voice said.
There was a hushed exchange. I wanted to know what they said, but I was sure it was a joke at my expense. I reminded myself that pride was for men who weren’t trapped up on rock. How the hell did I end up here?
“You’re doing great, mister,” the climber said. “Just a little bit more and I’ll have you.”
One of the men laughed.
I stopped. Something wasn’t right.
“Come on, mister, you’re almost there,” the young voice encouraged.
I told my body to continue, but my body was ignoring my commands. I began to tremble.
“Sir, are you okay?”
“Come on down, man.”
I wasn’t even halfway down. “You’ll have to come help me. I can’t move.”
“Move you scared little—“
The man grunted.
I opened my eyes and peered below. The men were scattering.
“I need you to come down to me now!” the younger man commanded.
“What’s going on down there?”
“Nothing.”
“Where did your people go?”
“Get down here!” he roared.
The boy stalked up the mountain. I froze, petrified at what I thought I was seeing. He moved so fast, covering tens of feet at a time with ease. A few feet below me, he reached for me.
I braced myself.
There was a reflection to his grasp like his hand bounced back. He jerked his arm back in a curse.
A streak of light blue shot up to us and the boy tumbled to the bottom of the gorge.
My eyes filled with tears. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was afraid I’d just witnessed someone die, or because I was afraid to die, or because I truly didn’t know what was really happening. I did the only thing I could, in frightful panic, I reached up and climbed. I fought through the pain, my shaking limbs, and the barriers in my mind, everything until I once again rolled onto the narrow slab, sobbing.
I tried to quiet myself, so I could listen. The voices below were silent. Another scheme, I surmised or proof that it was all trick my mind was playing on me.
“Mr. Christian?”
I gripped the ledge with my body.
“Mr. Christian!”
In a weak attempt to keep out of sight, I lowered my head.
“Oh, my gosh. Help! Help, someone. Montana, come quick!”
Help from above, I thought. I was saved from the men, saved from the animals, saved from the ghost children. Saved by my children.
“Wait!” I shouted. “It isn’t safe. Go back!” I looked down to the valley floor and stared.
There were no men, no voices, no animals, no blurs. There was no movement, only distance, rock, and earth.
“Christian, what are you doing down there?”
“I-I.” My mouth spoke still staring into space between myself and the ground.
“Someone, go get help!”
“No!” I shouted. I rolled over onto my stomach and rose to my feet. “I’m fine. I just need you guys to get me out.”
“Where’s your shirt?”
“I-I fell.”
65
I only needed to climb ten more feet to get to the schoolyard, but with the condition I was in, it might as well have been the full four thousand feet of Black Bear Mountain. Regardless, I had been caught.
The kids meant well, and I was grateful they saved me. I would never forget that, but in doing so, they had sealed my fate. There was no way I could ask them to cover for me. I could, but one of them would tell, then I’d look more guilty.
The kids proved to be extremely resourceful. Montana lowered one of the double desks down, then he, Peter, and Amy pulled me up. I asked Peter to go get his truck. Luckily Montana, gave me his coat. He didn’t offer it to me, he just wrapped it around me.
They were all so kind.
Peter pulled onto the schoolyard and Montana helped me into the truck.
Once the door was closed. “What the fuck happened?”
I winced at Peter’s volume.
“You didn’t fall, did you?”
It hurt to talk. “I’ll be honest, Peter. I have no clue what happened.”
“You look like crap. You want me to take you to my mom?”
“No!” I took a breath. “I don’t want to see anyone. I just need to go home, shower, and get back to school.”
“Christian—”
“I have some of your mom’s magic water under my sink. It’ll be fine.”
He turned back to the road. His concern was obvious.
He huffed and shook his head. He understood more than I thought he did. I made a deal with myself: I wouldn’t worry about the circumstances until I got back to the school.
Peter offered to help me into the house, but I knew with the spying neighbors I would have to suck it up and make it inside by myself. Luckily, I was still wearing Montana’s coat. The more normal I looked, the better.
I pumped myself up, thinking the worst angry thoughts I could, bit my lip, and powered up to the door.
I went to the kitchen and climbed onto the counter. I repositioned myself so that I could tend to my feet in the sink. I leaned against the cabinet letting the water run over my frozen, raw, bloodied toes.
Since I wasn't in flight mode any longer, the pain was excruciating. I clenched my teeth as the water washed over and into my wounds.
I pulled my feet from the water and sat there shaking. I knew I needed to call Franklin, but, instead I went for the mason jar Tonya had given me.
I gently lowered myself off the counter. Using my arms, I tried to control my position, but I ended up falling to the kitchen floor. After many curses, I pulled the jar from under the sink. I didn't even bother attempting to climb back up on the counter. I knew I couldn't do it.
Sitting on the floor, I carefully poured a thin stream of water onto my toes. There was immediate pain followed by warm relief. I sprinkled more of the water on my hands and ran my fingers along my lower legs and feet. As I rubbed, the broken skin fell away, leaving healthy, whole skin behind.
I ran my damp hands over my chest, then I drank the rest. I didn't know if it would help anything, but I was thirsty.
Once I could stand, I washed my face in the sink, but I still needed a shower. After nearly being drowned in the tub the night before, I thought there was no way in hell anyone could get me to go back in there, but I had to. I was covered in mud, I needed clean clothes, and I had to find my glasses.
After waking up at the mine and being chased across the valley and up the mountain, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to me next. I wanted out of Middwood, but I started to believe the town wouldn’t let me leave.
Part of me wanted to lock myself in the Tomb and hide, but I had to go to school. Everything needed to be seen as normal. I’d get myself together on the ride back. I’d call Casteel to have him tow and fix my car again, and then, the first chance I got, I would get the fuck out of town before they killed me.
66
It had been a terrible morning, and even though the kids had saved me, they were all being absolute babies. Everyone was tired and petty, and if they didn’t stop complaining, I was going to... I couldn't have cared less if Joshua chopped up the entire class, as long as it was quiet afterward.
Amy and Montana were bickering at each other, and she and I locked eyes.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked with the most attitude she had ever displayed.
I fired back, "I live in Middwood."
Peter let out a grunting laugh.
I grinned at his approval and raised a finger. "And yes, class, that counts as the question of the day."
So much for keeping my head down.
"But, Mr. Christian," piped Scarlet. "I had a good one and—"
I held out my hand to her and gestured for her to zip it. If Scarlet spoke more than three words to me, I would probably kill her.
Hey everyone, Joshua Johnson did it. I smiled at my scenario.
The room grew dark as I imagined throwing Scarlet through the desks. She was so small the weight of her body wouldn't even push a desk askew, instead, she would flip and tumble over them. Of course, she would be crying, that crazy little face. What would really get me going was that obnoxious voice begging, "Why, why, why?"
She'd struggle to her feet, then I would backhand the whiny bitch back to the floor. I would break her spine with my knee as I threw all my weight down on her tiny, little frame. I would easily pin her down as I lunged down on her other shoulder. She would be so out of it she wouldn't even know I had killed her, but I would still do it. If my ax were out of reach, I'd use her bird face to balance myself as I grabbed it.
An ax would be overkill. You don't use a bomb to kill a blue jay. A young, fragile, but loud and annoying bird that deserves to die.
I snapped out of my trance.
What the fuck was that? I must have blacked out. Did I?
I shook. Images of Darlene filled my mind, her laughing, then crying on the floor. Had I done it again?
I searched the classroom in a panicked murmur, "Scarlet?" I couldn't find her. I scanned the concerned, questioning looks of the students, but I didn't see her. "Where's Scarlet?" I shouted. All the kids were there, but I couldn't find her. "Where the hell is she?" I demanded.
"Jeeeeez, I'm right here," she waved her raised hand. "What did I do now?"
I covered my mouth. She was right in front of me. Right next to Carla, where she always sat.
I went and knelt beside the little girl. I wrapped my arms around her. "I'm sorry, Scarlet."
"Mr. Christian's hugging me!" she laughed. "Why are you hugging me?"
"I don't know," I said as I continued hugging her, pushing all the vile imagines from my mind.
"Someone has already been by then?" a deep male voice asked.
I looked at the door. It was the preacher, Mr. Gresham.
His head was lowered, and his hands were clasped in front of his stomach. "Someone's already come by?" he repeated, then gestured toward Scarlet.
I lowered my arms. "I'm not sure I understand."
The preacher looked perplexed. "I just thought since you were consoling the child..."
"Oh, that, I don't know what came over me. I just thought she needed..." I stopped talking. There was nothing I could say that would make sense. I stood, my right knee—the one I used in the daydream to crush Scarlet's shoulder—was stiff. "What can I help you with?" I said with a slight sound of physical pain in my voice.
Mr. Gresham eyed me and looked down at my leg, but then he resumed in a low and steady tone, "There has been an... event."
The already quiet class went silent as a prayer. Even the background noise of the wind and birds was still. Gresham continued. "And I'm afraid it involves Scarlet's mother."
The children's faces went sullen. It was so quiet I could hear a high-pitched ringing in my ears and the faint sound of my heart.
"What is it?" I asked.
He looked at Scarlet and she met his gaze. Scarlet seemed to know what it meant, but she turned to look to her left and right in hopes of deflecting his eyes. She strained her neck and tightened her lips. She tried not to cry.
I shouted, "Will someone, please tell me what the hell is going on?"
No one spoke.
Peter raised his hand. "Christian?" he spoke quietly, "Mr. Gresham means to say that someone has passed."
