WISHBONE (39 page)

A sudden memory invaded her thoughts, a quick flash of Julien lying there, suffering on the sofa. The debilitating vision of how she had jerked the device attached to his leg frequently swept through her mind. She cringed and pressed her ear to her shoulder as if to muffle his cry. The sound of his voice echoed in her mind, pleading with her, begging for her to listen, to believe him, to trust him.  She cupped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes tightly. She stubbed out the cigarette. She shuttered then checked on her daughter again. She pondered how old Jessica would be before she began to wonder if her mother was stable. She had to stop stalling and perform the task she had came all the way up here to do.

Rachael opened the back door to a gleeful Jessica. “Hi, Daddy’s girl,” she said forcing a happy, relaxed tone. 

“Ready to go play the game Mommy taught you?” She unbuckled Jessica and grabbed a baby wipe from a plastic container on the floor. She tossed the small remaining piece of cookie to the ground.

“Yuck!” Rachael scrunched up her face in disgust, causing the baby to laugh. She wiped Jessica’s fingers and face clean then did her best to wipe away a smear on the front of her new pink dress.

“Oh no, messy, messy.” She picked Jessica up, removing her from the car seat and set her on one hip. “You’re getting way too big, little girl.” She gently tweaked the baby’s nose then reached for the diaper bag to sling over her other shoulder.

She paused to stare at her grinning daughter, who quickly grew bored and began to kick and wriggle in her grasp, attempting to break free from her mother’s arms.

Rachael quickly adapted an animated tone, wanting to keep the little one’s attention. “You remember the game, right?” she asked, knowing there would be no answer. She brushed at Jessica’s wispy bangs, removing them from her eyes. “You need your first haircut, Ms. Thang.” Rachael closed the car door and set off, up the steep incline, toward the Victorian.

She had never realized how steep the long road was until she attempted it on foot and with the weight of her daughter and a diaper bag in her arms. She had to pause throughout the forty-minute hike resting frequently along the way. 

Finally reaching the top, she carried Jessica a few yards into the trees, just far enough to conceal them. She hushed her lovingly ceasing the baby’s babble then rocked her. She glanced toward the house. A car sat at the base of the porch steps. The property was quiet. She looked to the barn where she could see only a small corner of the coop. A sudden movement caught her eye and she ducked instantly behind a tree. She slapped a hand over the baby’s mouth and held her as still as possible.

Sarah appeared through the apple trees with a rocking skip. The girl disappeared into the barn. The chickens erupted into a cacophony of cackling and Rachael placed the diaper bag on the leaf-covered ground. She found the hatchet at the bottom of the bag and took it into her grasp, then hefted the bag back over her shoulder.

“Not a peep out of you.” She stared into her daughter’s eyes with a stern warning gaze that curved the baby’s mouth into a frown.

Rachael placed her lips to Jessica’s temple and kissed her repeatedly.

“No, no, Sweetie,” Rachel whispered. “Mommy didn’t mean it. No crying, okay? I just need you to be extremely
quiet for Mommy, okay?”

She stood up and slinked further along the driveway behind the dense tree line. Eventually, she had no choice but to cross the cleared acreage between her and barn. She glanced toward the windows of the house; pitch black. She could have been staring someone directly in the eyes and would not have known. She looked back to the barn and white-knuckled her grip on the wooden handle of the hatchet.

Rachael held her breath and stepped out into the clearing. Gravel crunched beneath her tennis shoes, she winced and looked around, positive that someone would hear them. She reached the grass and her footfalls fell silent again; she released the air stored in her lungs, finally allowing herself to exhale. She walked with purpose now, fully exposed, her eyes locked on the barn door, watching for any sign of Sarah. It felt as if there were miles between her and the destination, but eventually she closed in on the enormous structure. She ducked behind the back then peeked toward the house once more. She gauged there to be no more than twelve feet between her and the barn doors. She looked up at the open loft window, the old rusted pulley dangling in the soft breeze above them. Rachael forged ahead, carrying her daughter protectively between herself and the wall. She stepped inside, ready to confront Sarah if she should be standing there. The room was empty, filthy, piled high with garbage, as it had been when they first arrived nearly two years earlier. She walked slowly into the dark building. She could sense Jessica’s insecurity and rubbed the baby’s back with the side of her wrist completely unaware of the dangerously close hatchet. She looked around but kept eyeing at the coop door. She moved toward the old hay bales still stacked at the far wall. One by one, she used them to construct a square pen at the center of the barn, parallel to the coop doors. For Rachael, each sound seemed booming as she dragged the bales into place. She felt lightheaded, working quickly with only one free arm, the other still balancing a baffled Jessica. She placed the little girl in the center of the bales. Using her daughter as bait, she knew she would have only seconds before the baby began to wail. She turned away and rushed for the coop door, pressing her back up against the wall just beside it. 

Jessica began to whimper as Rachael created distance between them. Her whimper turned to whining, and then crying. Rachael locked eyes with the little girl and thought instantly to run to her, but it was too late.     

The door swung open and nearly crushed Rachael. Sarah’s eyes fell on Jessica. Her head cocked, the girl took a slow step in the direction of the baby. Rachael lifted the hatchet into the air. Sarah spun around and Rachael, without hesitation, brought the blade down into the girl’s forehead. Sarah stared at her, both women frozen in place; her expression of shock split in two by the jutting blade turned to confusion. She collapsed against Rachael, who jumped backward, repulsed, allowing the girl to fall hard against the ground at her feet.

Jessica fell backward onto her bottom. Her cries turned to screams and Rachael ran to her.

“Shhh,” she cooed. “Shhh. It’s okay. Momma’s here baby.” She bounced Jessica in her arms then rocked her anxiously. “I’m here. Momma’s here, sweetheart.”

Jessica stopped crying, her chest heaving several times, as she switched to pouting.

“We’re not done yet, honey.” Rachael moved past the hay bales and took the pitchfork from the wall then entered the coop. She closed the door behind them. Jessica watched the chickens scatter and cackle. She began to chatter loudly along with them, pointing at the birds and leaning dangerously forward in her mother’s grasp. She wanted down. She wanted to reach for the birds. Rachael slid her daughter to the ground. On unsteady legs the eighteen-month-old toddled around as the chickens ran about dodging her touch. 

Rachael watched her daughter for a moment then moved toward one end of the coop to have another peek at the house—
nothing
. She glanced back at Jessica who was still on the go.  Rachael went into action, plunging the pitchfork into the ground with all of her might. The dry dirt broke apart and she kept going. She leaned the pitchfork against the wall and knelt down before the broken soil. She dug in with her hands. It wasn’t long before she felt it and tears filled her eyes as she pulled it from the ground. Her face now streaked with thin muddy trails made of dust and tears, she pulled the black plastic bag from the dirt.

She clearly remembered the day she watched Sarah sneak off with the acrylic paint box and bury it in the coop, stealing the wishbones back from Rachael and taking back control of the game. It had triggered the memory of Rachael’s first time in the coop and finding the soft dirt patch. She had soon guessed that the bones she had found were not the carcass of a buried pet, but rather a collection of wishbones stolen from a tenant prior to her and Julien.

Rachael fell over onto her hip, folding her legs before her. She wiped at her face with the back of her wrist as her trembling hands opened the filthy bag in her lap. She had been right all along. She looked down at a collection of wishbones. Jessica, having lost interest in the fast moving birds, tottered toward her.

“Oh, baby.” Rachael said, hugging her daughter closely with one arm. “Are you ready, baby?” She balanced the little girl firmly beside her. 

“Remember?” she whispered playfully, attempting to entice her daughter’s interest. She held up a bone. 

“Like we did at home, okay?” She had been practicing with the little girl since she was old enough to make a fist. She did not know what, if anything, Jessica would wish, but they had several bones and several chances for Rachael to score the larger half. She felt doubt building as she questioned if the wish would even work.

She held the bone toward Jessica. A chicken darted by and the baby’s attention was lost in an instant, the little girl pointing at the white bird, breaking into a string of babble.

“Forget the chickens and look at Mommy. Look at the wishbone.”

Jessica continued to babble and moved to chase another. Rachael grabbed her arm and jerked the child back harshly knocking her to the ground. Jessica, stunned, her expression broke and dissolved into a pre-crying pout.

“No, no, no, please baby,” she pleaded. “Mommy’s sorry. I’m so sorry.” She pulled Jessica into her arms once again and hugged and kissed her. “Mouah!” she said, exaggerating a big kiss and earning a few giggles from her daughter.

Rachael sighed. “Please, Jessie. Play the game with Mommy,” she whispered from lips pressed warmly against her daughter’s forehead. 

She placed Jessica on the ground, seating her this time. She dangled the bone between them once again; Jessica reached out her hand.

“Close your eyes tight.” She brushed a hand softly over Jessica’s tiny face. The little girl grinned and closed her eyes. “You remember,” she asked. “hold it tight, baby.”

Rachael shut her eyes for only the few seconds it took to think out her wish.

“Pull, Jess. Pull the bone, baby.” 

Tink!
 

The bone snapped and Jessica brought her piece immediately to her mouth, Rachael grabbing it before she could touch it to her tongue. Jessica immediately crawled off toward one of the birds, back on chase and completely over the game. 

Rachael looked down at her closed fists. In her left hand she clasped Jessica’s half, in her right was her own. She could feel the difference but needed to see it with her own eyes to be sure. Slowly she opened her fingers revealing the larger half in her right palm. She sobbed again, clutching the pieces to her chest grateful and praying that the game had worked. She heard a noise behind her and spun around on her knees in a panic. In the tree line, she saw the golden retriever sniffing around. The dog was stockier now, lumbering and calmer. It jogged back in the direction from which it had come and Rachael got up from the ground. They needed to get out of there and it would be a long trek back to the car.

She picked up Jessica in one arm and carried the bag of remaining bones at her side. She looked down at Sarah’s body for a moment before bending over and jerking the hatchet from the girl’s skull. Sarah’s head lifted, came free, then thumped back against the ground. Rachael returned to the diaper bag, calmly tucking the bones and hatchet into the bottom and rearranging the rest of its contents to cover both. She carried Jessica out of the barn and never looked back.

She experienced calm that seemed to spread to Jessica who remaining silent in her arms as they headed back toward the tree line. She walked twenty feet deep into the woods and several yards in from the steep road, fearful the current owners could come driving up the mountain at any time. Grabbing trees to keep from skidding downhill, she moved from one to the next, slipping on damp leaves and tripping over rocks along the way. 

The trip down was considerably faster than their climb up, and it wasn’t long before she saw the front grill of the Lexus. She held Jessica tightly as they passed over a particularly dense area of fallen limbs. She came out onto the road, lost her footing and nearly hit the pavement with Jessica in her arms. She approached the rear passenger seat, her hand reaching for the door.

Churk!
 

Before her fingers could grasp the door handle, the door lock popped up behind the dark tinted window. Her head fell forward, eyes closed; she shuddered and slowly opened the door, refusing to look at the front seat.

“Do you need ‘elp?” Julien asked as he removed his sunglasses and placed them in the cup holder. He eyed his crying wife. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Rachael, with tears streaming, silently buckled in the baby and then closed the door. She moved to the front. She paused and searched the diaper bag, removing the wishbones. She flung them as far into the woods as the breeze would allow.  She took a deep breath and wiped her tear streaked cheeks before opening the front passenger door. Methodically, she slid into the seat and, slowly, brought her eyes up to meet his.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brooklyn Hudson was born and raised in New York City. She currently resides in Los Angeles where she produces replica-rock tribute shows.  She has penned thirteen horror/thrillers and credits Stephen King for her devout adoration of adult dramatic horror. She is currently fast at work on the WISHBONE screen adaption and WISHBONE Part II.

bit.ly/Blogspot-BonusChapter

Or Visit
The WISHBONE & More Blog

Coming soon…WISHBONE II

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements