Solitary: A Novel (41 page)

That's what she said. Get their attention and then get out of here.

Easier said than done.

I can outrun a bunch of freaks in robes, no problem.

I consider throwing something out there. Then I think of maybe firing a shot in the air-I have several bullets left. That would get their attention. That would make them think twice about having their weird little-

"Hey," .

The voice shakes me, causing me to jerk and slam the side of my stomach into a broken tree branch. It scrapes and punctures my skin.

"What are you doing here!" the voice shouts. "Hey! Someone's over here hiding out! What are you doing?"

I see the outline of a robed figure standing only a few feet away from me.

The group at the center of the field are turning, some of them running toward us.

Then he's on me.

A hand takes me by the throat and tightens, and I take both hands, including the one holding the gun, and flail them toward the figure's head.

Somehow I get the hood off.

I see a face I don't recognize.

A face with a sparse beard and mustache, the face of a kid who's gotta be my age, maybe older.

He lessens his grip.

Then he plants an elbow in my gut.

The gun goes off, and the guy howls as he lets go of me and reaches for his side. He curses as I look down as if the gunshot came from someone else.

I didn't mean to shoot it.

It just went off.

I want to say this to him, but then he launches himself at me and grabs my hands and tries to get the gun away from me.

We roll around in the ground, and his robe gets caught on a branch. I slip out of his hands and kick him somewhere on his body as I take off running back from where I came from, away from the field and this guy I just shot and the others who are coming.

I can hear voices.

Shouts.

I tear through the woods, the trees, branches hitting me, the night shaking all around, the shadows smothering, the air I'm trying to breathe getting thinner and thinner.

I don't turn around.

I don't dare drop the pistol.

I think I still hear voices, but maybe they're just in my head.

I hear my own breathing-sucking, panting, ragged, harriedas I bolt over a log, pound a shoulder into a limb, get swatted by a branch.

I run for an eternity.

I run so fast I can't think.

The only thing that stops me is something jutting out from the snow-and-leaf covered forest floor.

I fly for a moment and land in something soft and cold.

Thankfully the gun in my hand doesn't go off again.

My heart beats so fast I feel like it's exploding in my mouth.

My ears ring. My body shakes.

I listen for any movement, but don't hear anything.

I wait. For an hour or more. I don't know for sure.

I feel dizzy and electric.

Part of me wants to close my eyes and close them for a good long time.

For a moment I keep them open, wide open, waiting, watching.

The stillness covers and coats and swallows.

I'm fighting the darkness, and soon I can't help it. I drift off.

Sometime later-I don't know how much later-my eyes open. It takes me a while to regain my senses and remember where I am.

I have no idea where I'm at.

After a bit I start moving again.

I walk carefully through the woods, my side hurting. It doesn't just ache like it got hit. It throbs as if the cut is deep. I know that it's bleeding.

I have no idea where I am-I could be in South Carolina as far as I know. I just know that I'm far away from that open field with the disturbed folks playing Halloween.

The first thing I'll do when I come to a town is find somebodyanybody-who will listen to me.

I'm going to tell them to take me to the nearest police station where I'm going to tell everything.

This is insane.

Enough's enough.

If they won't listen, someone will.

I'll send an email to the entire world and get someone to respond.

This little backside that nobody knows about needs to get revealed. The world needs to know.

There are some sickos here and they need help.

Jocelyn-if she's a part of this in any way-needs help.

I need help.

And then, as if my unspoken prayers were answered by an unseen god, the forest opens to a clearing, and I see a house.

Jocelyn's house.

"You gotta be kidding," I say aloud.

No way.

I laugh, and it hurts.

I don't see anybody around-still no lights on, no car parked outside. It's just like I saw it a couple of days ago.

I'm going to break down a door and see if I find anything. Then if I don't, I'm going to call the cops and tell them I need help.

When I get to the door, I'm glad I try the handle again.

This time the door opens with ease.

As if someone wants me to go inside.

I move slowly, quietly, as if someone's here. I'm almost surprised when I find a switch and flick on the lights and see that there's still power.

The house looks the same. Nothing unusual.

"Hello?"

I call out several times but don't hear anything.

What if jocelyn's in the back? What if she's in her bedroom and she's all rig-

I shut up the voice. I'm holding the gun in my right hand and I'm ready. The safety is off and the gun's ready. Ready to at least show someone that I'm ready.

Ready to pretend like I'm ready because I'm not ready and I'll never be ready.

I find a phone and pick it up with my other hand.

There's no tone.

Either someone didn't pay their phone bill, or someone cut out the phone line all together.

"Jocelyn?" I call out as I walk back to the bedrooms.

Maybe Wade is here, waiting.

And maybe you re stupid for coming back.

I know now the reason filmmakers make people do stupid things in movies. Because in real life, people do stupid things. People run ahead when they really should run away. People open the door when it should always, always remain shut. People enter the room when they really should exit the building.

My breathing is haggard like an old man's. I'm really scared and suddenly realize my whole body is shaking. My back and my forehead are sweaty, yet my hands and face are still numb from the cold outside.

I turn on the light and see Jocelyn's bedroom.

This is the first time I've ever been inside it.

It looks pretty basic. No pictures on the walls, no theme going on. I open a sliding closet door and see her clothes hanging there. Same for the drawers in her dresser.

Everything's here. Nothing looks like she's gone on some long trip.

If I had time I'd search carefully for clues. But I don't.

There's a small desk alongside the wall; her laptop sits on it. I open it to see if there's anything inside it. Maybe to see if I can access her email.

After a few minutes of trying, I see that they don't have Internet, either.

I look at her emails and find a lone message that doesn't have a recipient. It's a message that looks ready to send.

I click on it and see my name at the top.

CHRIS:

IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN BEFORE THE NEW YEAR.

THIS IS ALL I KNOW.

THE PLAN IS FOR IT TO BE AT THE PLACE I TOLD YOU ABOUT.

THE DEVIL IS STRONG HERE.

DON'T DOUBT THIS.

DON'T DOUBT THAT HE'S REAL.

There's nothing else. No name, no sign-off, nothing.

I read it again.

The place I told you about.

I think about this for a moment and then remember.

So much has happened in these last couple of months, in these last few weeks.

Sometimes a kiss can cover up a gravestone.

Sometimes a friendship can overcome temptation.

Sometimes an embrace can overshadow the hurt.

I remember where she took me that one day, the place beyond her house in the woods at the top of the mountain.

Her bedside clock says it's ten.

I try to make sense of the time, but nothing makes sense.

Nothing.

I just know that I need to get up on that mountain.

Maybe, just maybe, it's all in Jocelyn's mind.

Maybe I did enough-like the woman in shades told me to do-to scare the people in the robes off.

I shut off Jocelyn's computer, turn around, and head out of her room when something else on her desk catches my attention.

It's a photo. A slightly off-colored printout of a photo of the two of us.

The photo that was taken on Christmas Day by my mom.

Jocelyn looks happy and at peace. She looks like love.

I fold up the photo and put it in my pocket, then I scramble out of the house and back into the dark pit of night.

I run through the dark woods.

And I see her smile.

A branch swats me in the face. A limb tears my coat and cuts my arm. My foot pounds against something hard on the forest floor. The wound in my side from the tree branch still throbs, wet with blood. I know my hands are stained with it-some my own and some not.

I hear her laugh.

I'm sprinting uphill, sucking in air, sweating. It doesn't feel like December. It doesn't feel like New Year's Eve.

Then again, nothing feels right. Nothing has felt right since coming to this godforsaken place.

The Devil is strong here, her voice tells me. Don't doubt this.

I feel her hand in mine, gripping, shaking.

She said this would happen, but I still find myself in disbelief, hoping I'll wake up, hoping the cold is just from the night air in my tiny cabin bedroom.

I want to look at my watch, but I don't dare.

Every moment is precious. Every second counts.

Endless trees seem to hover in the dead of night, guarding what is just beyond. Wind whips their skeletal limbs, whips my face.

Three months ago, I didn't know her.

Three months ago, I didn't know anyone like her even existed.

Three months ago, I didn't have the faintest idea what the word love meant.

But as I run, I know this: I'm willing to give my life for this girl.

I'm sixteen with what I hope will be a long life ahead of me, but I'm willing to give it up, to give anything to let her live, to let her make it through this night.

"Please, God," I call out.

But God is a stranger to this place. And to my heart.

I recall her words.

"I believe."

But I don't. I never wanted to-not then, and not now.

A light cuts through the woods.

I'm close.

The gun is still lodged in my hand.

I know I'll use it again. I don't care.

All I care about is getting to her.

The wind howls in anger.

There are forces at work stronger than the darkness. Stronger than the wind. Stronger than the night.

I know this now: There is evil in the world.

And in this place.

The glow gets brighter, illuminating the towering trees around me.

I don't slow down.

I'm almost at the top.

I'm ready to kill.

I'm ready to die.

I'm ready to rescue her.

My searing legs finally reach the top of the hill where the fire rages, where the winds whip, where the night sky explodes above me.

And then I see Jocelyn.