Dark Mountains (4 page)

Chapter 6

“I enlisted today,” I whispered, watching Libby’s face for her reaction. It paled but she said nothing. “I’ll finish school and leave for basic a few weeks after graduation.” She continued to sit silently, staring vacantly out the window. “I know you didn’t want me to sign up, Libby but I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Cole,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I want to Libby,” I told her, reaching over to grip her hand. “If what I do over there prevents another attack over here…” I trailed off, remembering in vivid detail the images I’d seen from 9-11.

***

Libby and I had been in English that morning and when one of the student deans had rushed into our class and whispered to our teacher, who had rushed to turn on the TV. As the image on the screen came into focus, we could see a tall skyscraper spewing smoke and fire from a hole near the top of the building. As we watched the live footage, a second plane came out of nowhere and slammed into building beside it.

Libby began to cry as the reporter tried to explain what we were seeing. I heard her say that the buildings
would have been nearly fully occupied just after the start of a regular business day. I watched in shock as the camera changed angles on one of the towers, zooming in on objects falling from near the top.

“There seems to be debris falling from the North Tower.” The reporter’s voice was saying as the camera continued to zoom in. “My God,” we could hear the horror in her voice and the rest of us watching realized what the objects were. “Those are people jumping.”

Libby stopped watching after that, burying her head in my shoulder and crying. As stunned as I was by what I was watching, I couldn’t turn away. I watched only minutes later as the screen flashed to images of the Pentagon, flames roaring from a gaping hole in one of its sides. I watched in a daze as the screen alternated from pictures of New York and Virginia.

When the first tower collapsed, I felt a tear slide down my face. The entire school day
was spent watching the footage in every class.  We listened to the reports that it hadn’t been an accident, that terrorists had been responsible.  We watched as President Bush vowed to find those responsible. I had already decided that I would join that fight.

***

“You’re going all the way to California, Cole,” she murmured, still staring out the window. “I won’t see you for months.”

“I know, Libby,” I answered, reaching over and squeezing her arm. “I’ll be able to call every weekend.” She snorted,
making me smile. “I can get a good job after I’m done serving.”

“You can get a good job here,” she muttered.

“Working at the coal mine?” I retorted, my anger rising. “Other than washing dishes at the diner, that’s about all there is.” Libby sighed, still not looking at me. “I watched my dad come home; covered in black, coughing up coal dust his entire life. Seeing how Momma worried about him getting killed every day. I don’t want that kind of life, Libby.” She still didn’t turn. “Besides, you got the only good job opening in this two-bit town.” She looked at me then, a crooked grin starting on her face.

“I didn’t get the job… yet,” she pretended to pout, still smiling.

“You got the internship… your foot’s in the door.” I smiled, knowing how happy she’d been. She’d worked for months on an audition story for the local news station’s full-time intern opening. Her piece on pressure for teenagers to have sex had beat out five other local hopefuls. She’d start right after school got out in another month. I’d be leaving for basic at the same time and hoped she’d be distracted by her new job  not to worry too much.

***

It was the week before Christmas and the drama club was putting on their end of the year play. Libby had gotten the lead role and couldn’t hide her excitement. Both of her parents had even come for opening night and were sitting next to mine in the front row. I could tell that Jackson wasn’t enjoying being there. Every few minutes he’d take a sip of whiskey from the flask sitting in his shirt pocket. But when the curtain pulled back, I forgot all about Jackson as Libby stepped onto the stage.

The entire audience sat in stunned silence as Libby mesmerized us. We could feel every tear, every hope and every ray of happiness as she poured her soul into the role of Cinderella. I glanced down the row at Jack
son, who seemed to be oblivious to the fact that his daughter was a very talented actor. Sitting three seats down, I could smell the stench of whiskey and I shivered. A sober Jackson was never a good thing… a drunk Jackson made me nervous.

The last scene unfolded as the prince finally found the mysterious owner of the missing slipper. As the two characters reached towards each other for the play-ending kiss, the entire audience erupted in loud applause. I glanced over t
o her parents and saw Carol Ann busily wiping tears from her eyes. But Jackson was glaring at Libby with murder in his eyes. I knew how Jackson felt about anyone getting physically close to his daughter… I’d seen that same look a few years before when he had assumed too much with me. But he hadn’t seen what I had when Libby was on stage. To the audience, the kiss had been the most romantic they’d ever seen, but they had missed seeing Libby turn her face just before the boy’s lips touched hers so all he kissed was her cheek.

I searched for Libby backstage as the crowds of families and students started leaving the auditorium. The stage was already dark and there
weren’t any more cast members hanging around. I stepped through the tangle of props, looking for the dressing room, when I heard a loud noise from behind the plywood castle. I followed the sound, dodging fake walls until I spotted a dark form leaning against the far wall. I stepped closer and saw that it was Jackson, his hands splayed against the wall in front of him. He had someone pinned against the wall.

The red welt was already rising on her cheek when I realized it was Libby cowering before him. Her face was pale as she shrunk away from her pa’s angry face.

“You bitch!” I heard him growl, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. “You’ll never be anything but a low-down, backwoods whore!” Libby flinched at his words. “I saw how you kissed that boy, you little slut!”

“It wasn’t real, Pa!” She cried, frantically trying to calm him down. “It was just a play!” His face froze in a sick smile as his hands crept towards her throat.

“Just a play?” He hissed, his fingers tightening on her throat. “You’re nothing but a whore, just like her.”

Before I realized what I was doing, I had grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. His eyes
didn’t show surprise, but challenge as he sneered at me. The next second, he was sprawled on the floor, my outstretched fist splattered with his blood. Jackson slowly wiped his arm under his nose as I stared him down.

“You’re lucky I don’t get Sheriff
Gellars in here to haul your ass to jail, you son of a bitch,” I growled.

“That bastard can’t do anything to me!” Jack
son screamed, his face twisted in rage. “He’ll never come near me and mine again! You hear me, boy?” My mind tried to register the fury in his voice when he said ‘again’. When had John Paul ever been around them? Libby told me her momma had never called the cops on Jackson before. My mind forgot it as Jackson scrambled up off the floor.

“I’m
gonna kill you, boy,” he growled, his lips sneering. He was on the floor again in seconds, his nose cocked at an odd angle.

“Never…” I growled
, all my rage focused into that moment. “Ever touch her again.” My fists shook at my side, begging to be set loose. I wanted to kill him.

Libby came up beside me, her hand resting lightly on my arm. My mind screamed to threaten him, beat him to a bloody pulp, to leave him as marked as he had left Libby so many times. Instead, I took Libby’s hand in mine and walked out of the school.

I drove her home and stood in the living room as she threw all her clothes into some garbage bags. Her momma was there, shrunk into a ball on the couch. She sat silently when Libby had told her what had happened. Carol Ann’s eyes widened in shock when Libby told her that I had probably broken Jackson’s nose.

“Come with me, Momma,” Libby begged, ben
ding down in front of Carol Ann.

“I can’t, Libby,” she answered, her voice shaking. “He’ll kill us both if I leave with you.” Libby st
arted to protest, but Carol Ann pressed a thin finger to her lips. “If I stay, I might be able to stop him from coming after you,” she whispered, tears running down her face. “I tried to protect you from this Libby, but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, Momma,” Libby cried, wra
pping her arms around Carol Ann.

“I love you too,” Carol Ann
turned to me, holding my face in her trembling hands. “Take care of my little girl, Cole,” she whispered. “I know you’ll protect her.”

“I will. Always,” I answered, fighting back my own tears.

Libby hugged her again before taking my hand and walking out the door. She didn’t look back as we drove away from the house she had grown up in. I looked into the rearview mirror, watching the house get smaller and smaller until it was swallowed by the darkness.

Chapter 7

Libby found someone from school to rent an apartment with. I went over the day before I left for basic with a handful of bluebells for her. I made sure that all of her locks on the doors and windows were working before I was even remotely satisfied with leaving her alone.

“Don’t worry, Cole,” she told me, seeing the worry in my eyes. “I feel like a different person now that I’m out of that house. I’m just so worried about Momma.”

“She’ll leave him one of these days,” I whispered, hugging her. “She just wants to make sure your Pa doesn’t come after you.” Libby sighed and hugged me tighter. We both knew what that meant. Jackson would be beating Carol Ann instead of Libby.

I left the next day for twelve weeks of training in California. During the long nights, I often thought of Libby, focusing on her smile as I struggled through training. I called her every weekend, hiding the pain and exhaustion from my voice. During the Crucible, when we were only allowed four hours of sleep a night, my memories of Libby were the only thing that kept me from collapsing with sheer exhaustion.

At graduation, I found my parents quickly after the ceremony was over. Much to my surprise, Libby stepped out from behind them. Overjoyed, I spun her around in a hug before asking how she’d made it to California.

“I had an extra ticket and asked if she wanted to fly on an airplane for the first time,” a familiar voice chuckled from behind me. Sheriff
Gellars was standing there with a big smile on his face.

“Sheriff,” I greeted him, holding out my hand.

“You can call me John Paul now, don’t you think, Private Andrews?” He teased, shaking my hand.

“Yes sir,” I answered, grinning.
“So why the trip out? I get to come home for a 10 day leave.”

“Well,” Libby answered, holding my hand. “John Paul wanted to scope out his future replacement for when he retires.” John Paul chuckled as she explained. “And I talked my producers into letting me do a story on young men in the
military. Mind if I interview you?” John Paul rolled his eyes as she batted her eyes at me. I laughed at them both as we walked towards the parking lot.

“I couldn’t let her sulk around, all sad because she couldn’t come out here to see you,” John Paul told me as we walked. “She was so sad her ratings were dropping.” He grunted when Libby elbowed him in the stomach.

“They were not!” She blurted, grinning widely.

I hugged them both, happy that they had come. We went out to dinner that night and I laughed at John Paul and Libby when they complained about how expensive it was to eat out in California.

“So are they sending you overseas?” John Paul asked when he’d finished eating.

“Not
for a while,” I answered and heard my mom sigh with relief. “I’ve got Military Occupation Specialty training first. That alone is almost two months. Then I head to Quantico for the Scout Sniper courses.”

“Crack shot, eh son?” My dad asked, proudly.

“My senior drill instructor seems to think so.”

“I always said you were a great shot,” Libby commented as she squeezed my arm.

“Shootin’ all those tin cans paid off, I guess,” I smiled as I shrugged. “I’m talking foreign language in Afghani, Iraqi and Arabic, among a few others.”

“Why so many?”
John Paul asked.

“Well first off, I don’t know where they’re sending me yet and second, terrorists move practically unhindered through almost every country in the Middle East. It’s good to know more than a few languages,” I explained but frowned when I saw that Libby had stopped smiling.

“Don’t worry, Libby. The most that I’ll be gone is two years.” Saying that only made her frown more so I shut my mouth. My dad ordered another round of drinks and tapped his glass before raising it for a toast. It seemed the entire restaurant had heard and all sat silent, watching him. He smiled at me, a tear creeping out of his eye.

“To freedom,” he whispered, but the entire room heard him. Voices all around me echoed the word as glasses lifted.

“Freedom,” I whispered as conversation picked back up around me. But in that moment, all my attention focused on Libby and the knowledge that she toasted freedom from two different things.