The Sacrificial Daughter (8 page)

Her now hated shoes clacked on the pavement, seeming to grow louder with each step, as did the sound of her own breathing. After a minute her breathing could be considered labored and after another she was panting. Despite her pain she was speed walking down the road, swiveling her head left and right and every few seconds back behind her.

She searched the shadows that seemed to have grown deeper and more tangible in the last few minutes. She searched the darkening forest because
he
was there. The Shadow-man.

He was out there, in the woods, watching her. She knew it. She could feel it. She could hear it.

Despite the agony in her ankle she began running. Across the road, fifty or sixty yards into the woods she could hear the tell-tale cracking of old branches and twigs as something large forced its way through the brush. The Shadow-man had been large...huge really. He would definitely make that much noise.

Jesse pushed herself faster. The road from the school into town was little more than a half-mile long. It was an eight or nine minute walk on a nice day and after a couple of minutes Jesse caught the first sight of the low buildings. It was then that she felt the back of her left leg growing tighter.

"Oh no," she whined low in a panicked whisper. Jesse knew what that feeling meant—her leg was seconds from cramping. With her right ankle burning with pain, she had over compensated in her run and now her left leg was threatening a rebellion. And when it did...

The sound of the Shadow-man grew closer.

"No! Please no!" she cried in breathless hysteria. The cramp had begun. Her hamstring went taunt as though it was run through with a steel cable. The pain was sudden and galvanizing. She grabbed the back of her leg with both hands and squeezed as hard as she could, kneading the muscle, desperately trying to loosen it.

Through sheer will she made it another thirty yards before her right ankle gave out beneath her and spilled her onto the cold pavement. It was a hard fall. She barely got one hand up in time, but still the pavement seemed to jump up at her and smash the side of her face.

Beneath her, the road seemed to tilt and her ears rang, yet still she was able to hear the most dread noise imaginable: from the forest the sound of snapping twigs and the crunch of leaves grew louder...the Shadow-man was coming for her.

Despite her pain and her ringing ears, Jesse was up in a flash, lurching and reeling down the side of the road. She was crying too, though she didn't know it. Yet it wouldn't have mattered to her if she had. What were a few tears in the face of her coming death? And she was absolutely certain that it was death approaching.

The dead wood of the forest snapped louder under the trampling feet of the Shadow-man, and she could hear plainly the whisper of tree branches against his coat. It sounded so eager, which for some reason made her own terror worse.

She began imagining her coming doom: the Shadow-man would grab her and drag her deep into the forest. There was no doubt that she would fight and try to scream, but he would pin her easily. One of his huge hands would be across her mouth, crushing her lips against her teeth, driving the back of her head into the wet leaves. The other hand...the other hand would be exploring, while his hot breath blew the hair back from the side of her neck. The Shadow-man was excited. She could feel it in the way he trembled and she could feel it hard against her thigh as well. He was excited and eager...

A crash larger and louder than the rest came from little more than twenty feet away just in the brush that ran thick beside the road. Jesse had been winning one tiny battle up to that point… she had yet to look at the Shadow-man. In her mind he was such a horror that she knew if she were to look and see him revealed she would go mad on the spot. Yet the crash had her turning against her will.

Her gaze had been on the road in front of her, down watching her feet. She had been afraid of tripping, of falling a second time, because she knew there would be no getting up again if she did. She was so afraid that she had no clue as to how close to town she had come. As her head came up she saw it was still a few hundred yards down the road...far enough that no one would hear her screaming.

In slow motion, with the world jouncing along to the ungainly lurching of her stride, she turned to see her fate. However, something snagged her eye as her head came around. Movement ahead of her. It was a car.

Relief over-flowed her insides, making her want to laugh... which she didn't, but she did point. Her left hand came up. She found herself pointing at the car, as if to make the Shadow-man aware of it.

You can't kill me now. A car is coming
, the point said.

Was that true? Would the presence of a car save her? Since the forest had become silent once again she began to think it just might. She even turned to take a peek into the woods. Other than the dense foliage, there was nothing in sight. This didn't necessarily mean she was safe, since there were dozens of places for the Shadow-man to have hidden, but with the car coming up, she figured that she probably was.

Then she recognized the car and her answer became: probably not. It was the silent black car that had come up behind her only the night before. And just like then it struck a chord of dread in her. She had stopped at the sight of the car, when she had first seen it, but now she resumed her frantic pace.

"Out of the freaking pan and into the freaking fire!" she hissed, as the car drew nearer and began to slow. Which was worse? What was in the car or what was in the forest?

Just before she came abreast of it, the car stopped and idled quietly. It's windows were so darkly tinted that it was impossible for Jesse to see in...until the driver side window slid partly down. Jesse kept walking, keeping her head straightforward as if she didn't see the car, but her eyes were canted to the left. The interior of the car was all in shadows, so it was odd and creepy to see that the driver wore dark sunglasses.

"You ok?" the driver asked.

"Yeah," Jesse replied, still with her head up and forward. Why hadn't she brought her chain and its heavy lock? If she had her chain...she didn't know what she would've done with it, but it would have been comforting at least.

"You want a lift?"

What a stupid question. Was he going to ask if she wanted some candy next? "Thank you, but no. I can't take a ride from a stranger."

He laughed a touch, before putting his car in reverse. It glided backwards keeping pace. "I'm not a stranger. You know that."

He said it so confidently that Jesse turned slightly to see into the car better. The driver was forty-ish with a dark hair and a thick build. She had never seen him before. Jesse tried to walk faster, only her hamstring felt as though there was an arrow imbedded in it and was threatening to seize up altogether.

"You know you're bleeding?" he pointed vaguely in the direction of her face. It was only then that she realized that she'd been blinking something out of her right eye. Her vision had been blurred, but she hadn't known what it was. Great! She was bleeding. Jesse had to wonder at what sort of wreck she looked like now.

"You sure you don't want a lift?"

"No. I don't."

"What's your name?" It was another stupid question and she ignored it. "I asked you a question." Now he sounded distinctly dangerous.

Jesse looked up to the town. Still a hundred and fifty yards to the first shops on this end of town...and there was no one out; the sidewalks were empty. She tried to hobble faster.

"Look, I can make you get into this car." His voice was low. It was the voice of a man that always got what he wanted.

"J-Jesse," she replied quickly.

"And your last name?"

Did she dare lie? This was such a small town that she couldn't take the chance...but to tell the truth seemed insane.

"Well?"

The town was a hundred and twenty yards away and closing with painful slowness. "Clarke," she answered. One-hundred and fifteen yards... one-hundred and ten... She waited for the sudden anger. She waited for the car door to open and she waited to be dragged inside.

That didn't happen.

"James' daughter," the man said. "He's a good man. You're a lucky girl to have him as a father."

Jesse was tempted to repeat her last name again, this time slower, since clearly he hadn't heard properly the first time. Nobody in this town like James, she was sure of it. In fact it would probably be another year before he won even a slight grudging respect. Of course, she could wait a lifetime and still not receive that.

"Yeah...ok," she said, not really knowing what else to say. She was obviously still freaked out and the man stared at her for a while.

"So what happened to you?" he asked.

Should she tell this
stranger
about her Shadow-man? No. The two of them could be working together for all she knew.

"I fell...yesterday and twisted my ankle. And then walking home, I got this bad cramp and before I knew it...I just...tripped. I guess." It sounded very lame. She knew she looked far worse than a simple trip would justify. All the same, she didn't feel that she had to justify herself to him at all.

He smirked at her story. "A fall? You look like you got in a catfight over some boy. You see anyone back that way?" He gestured behind her toward the school.

Was he trying to find out if they were alone? A glance to the town showed her that she was only a block away from its edge. Still too far in the shape she was in.

"There might have been someone in the woods. Over by that low hill on the right."

This seemed to perk him up. "A big guy?" he asked. Truly, Jesse hadn't really seen an actual person, but she nodded anyway. The man grew grim. "Tell your father that you saw
Wild Bill
out here, ok?"

"Is that who the big guy is?" she asked.

Behind his glasses, the man's face went sour. "No. I'm Wild Bill."

Wild Bill drove off in a hurry toward the school leaving Jesse once again alone. Still in pain, she began trudging along. Thankfully, by the time she came up to where the town proper began, the cramp in the back of her leg had subsided. However, her ankle still killed her and her head was throbbing.

As she passed the one Chinese restaurant in town, she caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the glass.

"Holy crap," she murmured, happy that no one seemed to walk anywhere in Ashton and that she was still alone. The right side of her head was completely covered in blood. The shoulder of her jean jacket was stained with it. She looked like a Halloween exhibit or an extra in a slasher film.

Suddenly, a little gasp escaped her and she flinched back. An Asian man stared at her from the other side of the window. She had been so wrapped up in her own image that she didn't see him at first. He wasn't happy to have her looking in his window and he shooed her away from his establishment with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Jesse was glad to go. Her day was bad enough without being seen like this. She hurried down the street, walking with her head bowed, refusing to look up as cars slowed down and their occupants stared.

Despite her attempts, she was recognized a few minutes later not forty feet from the entrance to the Town hall. Laughter and jeers chased her into the building.

"Yes?" A middle-aged receptionist stared at her over the rim of her glasses. Her tone in that one word made it clear she was seconds from calling the cops on Jesse.

"I'm here to see my father, James Clarke," Jesse replied tersely. The woman's eyes narrowed. It was evident that she disliked her new boss and by extension she didn't like Jesse either. She made no attempt to pick up the phone. Now Jesse's eyes narrowed, matching the woman's. "Did you hear me?"

"I did. However this is not a playground. You can't come waltzing in here as if you own the place, looking the way you do." The lady explained as if she were speaking to a toddler. "This is where the town conducts its business. Perhaps you should come back when you are cleaned up and properly attired."

"I wasn't waltzing. I was limping. Now, I would like to see my father, please."

"No. I can point you to a restroom where you can clean up maybe."

Jesse was in no mood to deal with the secretary of a petty bureaucrat like James Clarke. "You know who I am?" she asked. "You know that I'm James Clarke's daughter and I now reside in Ashton?"

"I don't care if you are the Queen of England. You still can't..."

"I asked a very simple question," Jesse interrupted loudly. "The answer is either yes or no. Do you know that I'm James Clarke's daughter and that I now reside in Ashton?"

"How dare you talk to me this way?" The woman raged. "It doesn't matter who you are. You don't get to come in here and make demands just because your father is the town manager."

"Actually, I get to do exactly that," Jesse replied. "Tell me, what is the stated open-door policy of the current town manager?" The woman's mouth came open and then snapped closed just as quick. "Can't remember it?" Jesse asked. "Well I've heard it a thousand times, so allow me to quote it...ahem...
The town manager will see anyone of the citizens of Ashton, anytime, under any circumstances. My door is always open
."

At this, the receptionist pursed her lips so tightly that no sound could've escaped her even if she wanted to speak. Nonetheless, Jesse paused for anything the woman might have to say. When nothing was forthcoming, Jesse pulled off her high-heeled shoes, groaned in relief, and walked around the desk in as stately a manner as she could contrive.

The building was small, however Jesse felt as though she was in the final mile of a marathon that she hadn't trained for, and her father's office was an agony to walk to. When she arrived she stumbled onto his couch and groaned again.

"So it's true." James said, breathing out a long sigh of disappointment. "You have been fighting again."

From her sprawled position on the couch, Jesse blinked.

She blinked again and then a third time, slowly, as she struggled to come to terms with the antithetical positions her mind had taken up. On one hand she had the reality of his statement, on the other were her expectations of what she thought he would say when he saw her.

They would not jibe.

"Am I awake?" she asked. The moment was so surreal that she felt that it was a valid question.

"Yes, and you are bleeding on my couch." James replied. "Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up."

"Sorry...I think I'm in the wrong office," she said coldly. "I was looking for my father."

"Jesse..."

She pulled herself up and both eyes were blurry now. "No really, have you seen my father? Do you know what he looks like, because I haven't a damned clue!"

"Don't be like this," he said a touch more soothingly.

"Like what?" she demanded. "I'm just trying to find the man that
claims
to be my father. Perhaps it would help you if I described a father! He's the man who, when he sees his little girl c-covered...in b-blood, doesn't sigh like...he's so put out with having to deal with her. He...he doesn't..." Jesse couldn't go on. Her tears came too heavily and her breath rasped out of her throat in harsh, ungovernable spasms.

"Jesse, I'm sorry. I really am." Her father came around his desk, grabbed a box of tissue, and sat down next to the weeping girl. "You're right about me. I shouldn't have come down on you like I did. It's just your timing was pretty bad. Principal Peterson was just in here two minutes ago."

She thought she could imagine all the bad things the principal had said about her, but she was wrong.

"He said your first day was...well pretty bad. Starting fights, cutting class, being rude to the teachers and disruptive on the bus. In fact, he saw you get kicked off the bus with his own eyes."

Jesse's head spun. "And you believed him?" Deep down, she knew that he would. For some reason he never sided with his own daughter.

"You tell me why I shouldn't," he answered. "We both know you have a long history of cutting class...of starting fights...of lying, especially to me. I don't want to think these things of you, but past behavior is indicative of future action."

Jesse threw-up her hands. "Then I can't win. My past will always keep me as a lower being in your eyes. There's no reason I should even try anymore."

"You should always try," her father said reasonably. "Start right now. Tell me the principal is lying. Did you cut four classes today?"

"Four!" she exclaimed. "I didn't cut four classes! I missed the first two classes because of placement testing..."

"And the other two?"

Jesse slumped on the couch. "I...uh had a bad day. This cook... he...never mind."

Her father's face was set. "No. I don't think we should never mind. What about fighting? Principal Peterson says you threatened Amanda Jorgenson. There are eyewitness who said you were going to
kick her ass,
out behind the school. And look at you bleeding all over my couch. Are you going to tell me that you weren't fighting?"

"I tripped," she said. There was no use explaining about the Shadow-man. He would never believe it not in a million years. She didn't really believe it.

"You tripped?"

"Yes."

Her father got up and sat back in his chair, leaving her alone on the couch. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Do what you want," Jesse whispered almost to herself. "It won't make a difference. Everyone will hate me no matter what, and you'll side with them against me."

James sighed, his favorite form of communication and then ran his hands through his hair. "Whether you want to hear it or not, this is partly your fault. You never play the game..."

"What game?" she cried out, interrupting. She was close to storming out of his office. She had no idea where she would go, but just then anywhere was better.

"The game of fitting in," he answered. "Yes, I know your situation isn't ideal...but you don't really try. You never give anyone a second chance...ever. Someone smirks at you once and you are done with them forever. You will never have friends that way."

"You mean I will never have crappy friends that way. Remember what you just said about past behavior being an indicator of future actions? I suppose it cuts both ways, doesn't it? There wasn't a single nice person in that school today. And I won't be going too far out on a limb to say there won't be any tomorrow, either." An image of the Ghost...of Ky, came to her. He hadn't been exactly mean to her, rather he was extremely neutral, living in his own world. In fact, the truth was that she had been mean to him, not the other way around.

Her father was full of sighs and another one escaped him before he replied, "If that's your attitude, then you'll be awful lonely and you'll only have yourself to blame."

After her day she could stand a bit of loneliness. It surely had to be better than the hate that had been heaped on her. "I don't blame myself one bit. I blame you," she snarled at her father. "I know you. You're going to fire a bunch of people this week, right before Christmas! How is that really going to help that all important bottom line?"

James rolled his eyes. "I've explained this a dozen times already. First off, there is never a 'good' time to be laid off. It always a painful experience. Second, it
does
help the budget. There is so much unseen cost associated with all these jobs that still accumulates even while they are on winter break. And third, it helps the people themselves."

"How? How can being fired right before Christmas be helpful in anyway?" It was her turn to roll her eyes. "I think your ability to rationalize your behavior, which is bordering on obscene mind you, has gone from rationalizing to fantasizing."

At her little insult he smiled oddly. "You are so smart. I love it when we have these talks and I love you, Jesse. "

This was so unexpected that the fire of her anger was doused...slightly. "I...uh...I'm still so angry at you I could spit." This was at least the truth. Saying, I love you, back to him probably wouldn't have been. She just didn't know.

Not hearing the words back made him smile in a grimacing sort of way. "Maybe you
should
be mad at me, but I'm trying to help..."

"You think that you're helping people by firing them?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "You know that I am. I turned around Copper Ridge, Chrisfield, and Denton using these very methods. In the
long run
everyone comes out so much better."

"Everyone but me," Jesse added pointing at her own chest. "In the
long run
your daughter turns into a recluse. In the
long run
she spends half her paycheck on therapy and Prozac...or maybe booze and drugs, who knows? In the
long run
depression takes a hold of her and never leaves and she lives her life hiding in her apartment because all her life she has been hated. In the
long run
you realize that you might have helped the people of all these towns but you have sacrificed your own daughter in the process."

James Clarke leaned back in his chair and stared past his daughter at the wall behind her. "How am I supposed to respond to that? Do I let this town die? There are six-thousand people living in and around Ashton. The un-employment rate is nineteen percent! And the rate of foreclosures!" He stopped for a moment, shaking his head as if thinking about the home foreclosure rate physically pained him. "Jesse, I don't want you to be depressed. I want you to be happy with friends..."

"Then stop being such an ass," Jesse said sharply.

"That's the second time you've cursed in front of me." James Clarke was a striking man, handsome and robust. He had a certain air about him that was greater even than his physical presence. It was probably what made him good at his job; when he spoke, people listened. "I'm being lenient because you've had a rough day, but don't do it again."

Jesse was in a fury, yet so commanding was her father, that she dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry that I cursed at you...but...but I don't know a better word for a man who fires people right before Christmas."

"Try logical," he replied. Jesse's mouth came open to protest this, but when James held up his hand, he silenced her with the gesture. "The average family will spend over fourteen-hundred dollars at Christmas. How many car payments is that? How many months of groceries will that buy? Yes it sucks, I know...but those people who know they are going to be fired will be in a much better place financially. They'll cut back and have a better chance to ride out this downturn."

Jesse hated the fact that his logic seemed sound. It was easier just to loath him without the facts. Then she saw a hole in his thinking: "How is it going to help the economy of Ashton if people aren't spending their money on Christmas. You've told me before that Christmas sales are vitally important to the private sector."

"The simple answer is that people don't shop here in Ashton for Christmas presents. They never have. They go to the mall in Barton."

The explanation of the logic behind the coming firings wasn't much of a salve for Jesse's feelings. Rather it was the opposite. "So, it's all decided then. You get to save the town...again and I get hated...again."