Knock Out (29 page)

At the bottom of the cliff was a narrow creek that flowed into the Sweet Onion River, nearly dry now in the deep of summer. He decided they’d cross it right there, to get out of the clearing and away from the faint reflection of the water.

They made their way easily over smooth stones in the creek bed, stones laid down by someone who’d traveled the wilderness before Ethan was born. The creek wasn’t more than three feet wide at this point.

When they reached the other side, Ethan turned and held out his hand to help her up a steep incline on the opposite side. She smiled at him and shook her head.

He whispered, “It’s a little rough here, be careful.”

Joanna slipped once after all. His hand was there to grip her wrist and pull her up. He nodded to her when they reached the top.

He took them through a patch of underbrush so thick she didn’t see how they’d get through, but Ethan managed to push forward steadily, not making much noise at all. He stopped and pulled her very close, whispered against her ear, “The land flattens out up ahead and opens up for a while. We’ll walk where the trees are thick, so watch for branches.”

Ethan knew the terrain so well he recognized individual trees as they moved in the intense darkness.

It brightened only a bit when at last the trees thinned out and the few stars overhead came into sight He leaned close again. “There aren’t any trails within a quarter mile of us, then there’s a nine-mile stretch of the Appalachian Trail through the wilderness. It’s well marked. I’ll wager Blessed and Grace are close to it. If they were following Autumn, this is the only way they’d come. I suppose they could have tried to get through that thick under-growth, but not for long.

They’ll stay in the open, maybe at or near one of the campsites up ahead. You see movement, a shadow, tell me. I’m counting on them using a nice big flashlight sooner or later, long enough to give them away.”

Ethan took them around the edge of several deserted clearings. They reached a mess of outcropping rocks blocking their way. Ethan said nothing, merely took her hand and somehow led her through them. If he told her he could see in the dark, Joanna would have believed him. She stayed very close, nearly matching his footsteps. He stopped suddenly and she bumped into his back. He nodded, pointed ahead.

She leaned around him to see—what? She kept looking. There, she saw it, a light, only a flash of light, but it was there, off to their right, maybe forty feet away, not more. Then the light winked out.

Gotcha,
Ethan thought, and put his finger against his lips.

He led her in a wide circle. Ethan stopped every few steps to listen. Joanna couldn’t hear or see anything. She said nothing. She felt her heart pounding, her breath catch in her throat. Truth be told, she’d rather have to fight a couple of black bears than Blessed and Grace. She knew they were close; she could feel them. She also knew what they could do to both her and Ethan with a single look. The flash of light they’d seen, it had to mean they weren’t asleep.

Did they sense Ethan was close? Did they sense her?

Were they waiting? Was the flash of light bait?

Ethan whispered, “Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.”

She watched him slither between two scraggly pine trees, then he was swallowed up by the darkness. The night seemed to have turned blacker than the bottom of a witch’s kettle.

She waited until she couldn’t stand it. She took one step, felt his hand on her back, and nearly screamed.

He said against her temple, “They’re asleep, Joanna.

We’ve got a chance now.”

“But what about the flash of light?”

“One of them probably got up to relieve himself.

We’ll wait another ten, fifteen minutes, just to make sure.”

He sank down to lean against an oak tree, Joanna next to him, and they waited. After a minute, she began to hear the night sounds re-turn, a cricket, an owl hooting, small creatures moving in the underbrush.

They waited. Joanna was stiff with cold, but she didn’t say anything. When she believed her teeth would begin chattering, Ethan rose, pulled her up beside him. They both stretched to get their muscles working again.

She followed him, her hand on his back, trying to move as quietly as he did through the underbrush, under the tree branches, trying not to trip on the rocks and the rotted vegetation. She could see only his outline in front of her. She heard a sound beside her foot and stopped suddenly. Ethan stopped too. It was a small animal, a possum or a weasel. Ethan smelled a whiff of smoke, the light taint of a burned-out campfire in the night air.

Close, they were very close. When they reached the edge of a small open space, not more than six feet across, Ethan saw the small fire they’d built was nearly out. There was no movement that he could see. On either side lay a sleeping bag. Everything was quiet, a postcard kind of night.

Another owl hooted. An answering hoot came quickly, then another.

The air was soft against their faces, soft and cold.

Joanna shivered. She pressed against Ethan’s back. He whispered, “They must have stolen the sleeping bags, if it’s them. We’ll have to shine a light. I’ll take the sleeping bag closest to the fire, all right? You take the other. Remember, don’t hesitate. If ever our lives will be on the line, it’s now.” He stared down at her for a long moment. He knew she couldn’t see him clearly, but he could see her. He touched his palm to her cheek.

She looked scared, and determined. It would be enough. “Let’s do this and get back to Autumn.”

She nodded, her throat suddenly dry as desert sand. She’d never really understood wanting to kill another person, but she understood now. She felt a wild need to kill Blessed, watch the life flow out of his mad eyes. Then at last Autumn would be safe. And Ethan, a man she’d known only for a week or so. That was amazing.

She stared at the unmoving sleeping bag not ten feet away from her. She thought she saw the shape of a head, but she couldn’t make out who it was. It didn’t matter.

They approached silently, their weapons raised, Ethan breaking away from her toward the closer sleeping bag.

Ethan felt something flutter behind him and froze.

He knew without looking. He whipped the Remington up and whirled around, his eyes down, and fired.

He heard a little girl’s scream of pain. He jerked his head up and looked at Autumn, standing not six feet from him at the edge of the trees, and she was bleeding, a gaping tear in her small chest, a river of blood flowing from her small body.

Joanna screamed her daughter’s name but swung her gun around and fired down at the sleeping bag, again and again until the clip was empty. There was no sound, no movement.
Autumn
—
oh, God, no, no.

“Ethan. Mama. Why did you shoot me?”

She was dead. Joanna had seen the huge bloody hole through her chest.

She was hearing her dead child’s voice.

50

“ETHAN, MAMA, that’s not me. I’m over here.”

Ethan watched as the little girl he’d shot fell slowly to the ground onto her back, watched that little girl change—a second, that’s all it took—like a shift in the air had lifted a veil, and Grace became him-self. Ethan shook his head, not wanting to believe what his eyes had witnessed. It was madness, but it was nonetheless true. His life had flown out of control since these two had come into it. Grace lay on the ground, his hands pressing frantically down on his gut, blood and fluid seeping through his fingers, and he was hissing with pain.

Ethan yelled to Joanna, “Where is Blessed?”

“I shot him in his sleeping bag,” Joanna said as she ran toward Autumn. “Finally he’s dead, thank God, he’s dead. I emptied my clip into him.”

“No, you didn’t, Joanna.”

She whirled around, stared him right in the face.

“No!” Autumn screamed, and launched herself at Blessed. He turned to grab her small arm. He looked at Ethan as he jerked up the Remington. “You don’t want to do that, Sheriff.”

Ethan froze.

“Autumn, my little niece, my little sweetheart, it’s all right now— no, it’s not, I can’t lie to you. He shot Grace, that sheriff shot your uncle, Autumn. Look at him, it’s bad.”

Blessed dragged Autumn to where his brother lay curled up on his side, his palms flat against his belly, his blood now gushing through his fingers, whimpering with pain. Gut shot, the sheriff had gut-shot Grace. Blessed knew if he didn’t get him to the hospital fast, Grace would die. His guts would twist up, and they’d turn green and black, and Grace would rot. He would die screaming. Martin was dead, and now Grace. He’d always protected both of them, always paid back, with bloody interest, anyone who bullied them because they were different, because they were special. But the bullies beat his brothers up only once, because Blessed nearly killed them. And now Grace was shot, shot bad, in his belly. Blessed had failed him. He wanted to howl, to shriek, but not pray, never pray, because Mama had told him prayers from him could bring up the devil and then things would really get bad.

He stood there staring down at his brother, his brain squirreling about madly. He knew little Autumn was terrified, he couldn’t blame her for that, but Grace was lying on the cold ground, weeping and screaming.

What was he to
do?

Grace’s eyes fastened on his brother, tears running in dirty rivulets down his thin cheeks. “Blessed,” Grace whispered. “Listen to me, Blessed. Kill me, kill me.

There’s no choice. Oh, Jesus, I can’t stand it.”

“Oh, no, no, you can’t ask me to do that, Grace.

No!”

“Do it, Blessed. I can feel the bullet in me, feel it burrowed deep I know there’s no way to get me out of here. I shouldn’t have tried to fool the sheriff like that.

He was afraid it was you, so he shot me before he looked at me, my fault.

“I love you, Blessed. Tell Mama I’ll look down on her. Tell her I’ll prepare a welcome for her and a special place for her. I know I’m dying, Blessed. Do it now, please, just do it now.” Grace drew up his knees, still clutching himself, and turned his face away. His sobs were all they could hear in the silent forest night.

Blessed said to Ethan, “Give him a kill shot.”

Ethan turned to Grace, brought up his Remington, and fired. The bullet struck Grace between his eyes.

His body lurched up, then collapsed again. He died with his eyes open, his face riddled with pain, his hands still clutching his belly.

“Stand back, Sheriff.”

Ethan took a single step back. Blessed pulled Autumn with him as he dropped to his knees beside his dead brother. He touched Grace’s face, closed his staring eyes. “I’m sorry, Grace. This is gonna kill Mama, and she’s gonna blame me even though it was what you wanted. I couldn’t take you to a doctor, and you knew it.” He leaned down and kissed his brother’s tear-streaked face. Blessed straightened, swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, then turned to Ethan.

“You killed my brother.”

Autumn hit him with her fists, yelled in his face,

“Don’t you dare hurt Ethan or Mama! You monster, don’t you dare!”

Blessed controlled his killing rage. He stared down in shock at the little girl, his own flesh and blood. “I’m not a monster. That’s not a nice thing to say to your uncle.”

“I hate you. I wish you weren’t my uncle. I wish you were in hell. That’s where you should be.”

“I am your uncle and I love you.” Autumn was hiccupping, tears streaming down her face. He thought for a moment and said slowly, “If you promise to come with me willingly, I won’t kill them even though the sheriff did murder my brother. If you promise to let me and Mama teach you how to use your gift, I won’t.

Do you promise?”

Autumn looked at Grace and thought,
You’re dead,
you’re dead, you’re dead.
But Blessed wasn’t dead. He wasn’t like her, that was a lie, he was a monster, and monsters could look like anybody they wanted to when they snuck into your dreams or crashed into your face. Autumn knew death was the end of things, like her father had gone away forever, and now Grace wasn’t here anymore either, and that meant sometimes death was good. But Blessed—what should she do?

She looked at Ethan, then at her mother, both of their faces blank, as if they weren’t there.

She heard his rough old voice saying again, “I promise I won’t kill them, Autumn, I won’t, if you do what I want.”

Blessed’s words fluttered over her. Autumn wanted to run to her mother, to shake her until she was back into herself again, and she jerked her arm to try to get away from him, but Blessed tightened his hold. She wanted her mother, she wanted her laughing and holding her, telling her everything would be all right. She nodded up at the old man whose eyes were hard and soft at the same time.

“Say it. Say, ‘I promise, Uncle Blessed.’”

It was hard to get the words out, but she did, finally. “I-I promise.” She tried to say his name, but she simply couldn’t. She hated his name, it scared her.

Autumn lowered her head and cried. Through her hiccups, she whispered, “I want my mama back.”

“You will have her, but just not yet,” Blessed said.

“Sheriff, you will dig a grave for my brother.”

Ethan said, “I don’t have a shovel.”

Autumn’s head snapped up. Ethan sounded like himself, it was his voice, but in a way it wasn’t. His voice sounded dead, uncaring, flat as the strawberry pancakes she’d tried to make for her mother on her birthday.

Blessed said, “Then you will dig with sticks and your bare hands. Woman, you will help him. Both of you.”

He loosened his hold on Autumn’s arm. She ran to her mother, but Joanna ignored her, dropped to her knees beside Ethan, and began to dig, pulling up clumps of dirt and grass, tossing them as far as she could.

“Mama.” Autumn pulled on her sleeve, but Joanna paid her no attention. Autumn grabbed Ethan’s jacket, but, like her mother, it was as if he wasn’t even there.

“Come back, come back,” she whispered, and couldn’t even whisper anymore because her throat was clogged with tears. She drew back her fist and hit Ethan as hard as she could He didn’t flinch, he didn’t react at all, he continued digging up dirt, big handfuls of it, throwing it over his shoulder. It was horrible what she was seeing, but Autumn couldn’t do anything to stop it.