Rose hadn’t put together the pieces herself until she blurted it out. It seemed impossible to believe that someone who wasn’t remotely worthy of Angelica’s affection, at least to Rose’s way of thinking, could cheat on Angelica! Rose was pacing in her own kitchen now, twisting and wrapping the phone cord tightly around her hand, strangling it.
“No,” Angelica said. “There’s no way that could be true. There’s no—” Angelica stopped. Two bright lights hit the window in the living room coming from the driveway outside. A door slammed.
“I have to go,” Angelica said. “Blake just got home.”
Chapter 9
Jesse fought the same eight-foot tall brambles that he and Shane had come through just a half hour before. Shane’s dead! Shit! Jesse couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe any of it! The day had been a disaster all around, and now he had to get back, to get help.
Help for whom?
The voice was back, doubtful and speaking in a growling, condescending tone. Jesse regretted having watched so many Freddy Kruger movies. Freddy, who couldn’t be killed, now became his inner voice.
Who you gonna help? Shane? Shane’s dead...the maggots will take care of him, Jesse. I’d say it’s YOU who needs the help!
The brambles bit into the flesh of Jesse’s bare arms, his short sleeves providing no protection as he ran. He finally broke free, emerged on the other side and stopped. He placed his hands on his knees as he bent over and gasped while trying to remember the way. The voice quieted, letting Jesse choose his own fate.
Everything looked the same, singularly unique but indistinguishable in the crowd. Jesse turned on his inner DVR and closed his eyes to replay the chase scene that had brought him here. He looked back at the brambles to mark the spot they had originally entered then turned to re-create the line they had taken to reach that spot. He pointed ahead at it, convinced himself and took off.
Whatever you say, the voice hissed. But I’d pace myself if I were you!
“You ARE me, you idiot!” Jesse said and immediately regretted that he had taken this turn for the worse, arguing with himself. He stopped running after ten minutes and tried to remember the steps he and Shane had taken.
How many hills did you run over?
The voice sounded polite in Jesse’s head, but it only served to send a chill down his neck and excite the hairs there to stand erect. Jesse spoke aloud in an effort to calm himself. “I don’t know the way back for sure. I think it’s that way, but—”
But you don’t know, do you?
“STOP IT! Let me finish. Like I said, I’m not sure. So I could keep going that way and try to get back but I only have a few hours of light left, maybe less in these woods.”
I’d say less.
Jesse was on the verge of snapping and realized he needed to keep his cool. If ever in his lifetime he had needed to stay calm, this was it. He sensed the danger of the situation and the more he thought about it, the more it scared him. “Damn it! What are my options?” he asked himself as he tried to assert his authority and suppress the voice. “I can try to make it back, but if I don’t get back exactly to the truck I might as well be in the jungle. No one knows about that place other than Blake, Shane and Ter—”
Shane can’t help you, the voice interrupted.
“OR,” Jesse said, ignoring the voice, “I could look for another way out. I could look for a stream like everyone says and follow it to its source—”
But where you gonna find a stream?
“OR,” Jesse continued, “I could just climb and try to get to the top of Rabun Bald. There’s a lookout, people are there and I can get help.”
That sounds like the winner to me. You can see everything from up there.
Jesse stood for the moment, safely lost in an endless sea of trees. He was about to make a choice that he knew could have life threatening consequences, but he still couldn’t believe it. “People don’t just die in the middle of the woods. You never hear about stuff like that. I’m just overreacting. ”
You know why you don’t hear about stuff like that?
“Quiet! I’m trying to think!”
Because the dead can’t talk, Jesse. Just ask Shane.
Jesse let out a deep breath and then took in another one, silently regretting that he had made so much fun of the Boy Scouts when he saw them in their dorky little uniforms. And then, he faced up the slope and began to climb.
***
Ozzie lay on the ground in shock, blinking. He looked up at a sea of straight pine trees that towered over him as if he was an ant surrounded by an army of erect toothpicks. Where am I...how did I get here? Mom! Ozzie’s silent questions and calls went unanswered.
A throbbing pain from his right side diverted his attention from his surroundings to his body. He looked down, touched his side and felt blood. Ozzie’s eyes grew wide with alarm. His mind replayed the sound of the rifle shot for him to hear again, which propelled Ozzie to his feet. He grunted in pain as it all came back to him. Looking back from the hilltop to the boulder, Ozzie thought he could see the two men standing next to the spring, but at the distance everything was a blur. He waited a brief moment until he was sure that one of the hazy figures moved.
They’re trying to kill me, like dad! Run!
Scampering over the hill and down a steep hillside, Ozzie limped badly. His right side burned and felt as if it were pulled tighter than a drum, but the bullet had only grazed him. Enough to draw a steady trickle of blood, but not enough to kill him. Maybe not this time, he thought. They’ll keep coming until they get you.
With the men no longer in close pursuit Ozzie stopped running and began walking, straight ahead, letting gravity assist him downhill whenever he could. Walking up hill was too arduous. After half an hour of trudging along he stopped to listen. There was nothing. No sounds other than his breathing. No birds, no scampering squirrels, no wind. No sticks breaking, no ruffling leaves. No men. Ozzie concentrated, hearing the faintest of sounds, something close to him. Something on the ground, a rhythmic terrestrial beat. He looked down. A newly fallen oak leaf was half covered in bright red blood. Ozzie watched as drops steadily dripped from his wound. In the absence of other sounds it was alarmingly loud. The only sound Ozzie could hear was his breathing and the spilling of his own blood.
They’ll keep coming, Ozzie told himself. Keep moving.
He was exhausted and the fact that he hadn’t seen the men recently took away some of the urgency, which allowed him to feel a little more relaxed. Left, right, left, he labored to shove his feet through wet leaves as it became difficult to pick them up. Ozzie was desperate to hear something familiar. Anything. The silence itself was more frightening than the sound of the men chasing him. He had never been alone his entire life. Even if he had to endure their chanting and their hateful screams, at least he wouldn’t be alone in the wilderness.
In the lonely depths of the forest, light began fading quickly, but the dark was nothing new for Ozzie. Being without his mother, without his fence, was. Still he moved ahead, ever more slowly but ever onward until finally, as darkness grew closer, he heard a sound that he recognized. Faint and from his rear, in the direction from which he had come. He stopped and leaned his weary body against a tree to enjoy the sound that had comforted him many a night. Nothing but the playful yipping and howling of a pack of coyotes.