The Mountain Page 19

  “Straight down the mountain,” she said, as she stepped forward between Mark and Eddie. “Down in the woods by the Peak. Ain’t too awful far.”

  They started down the mountain trail, Mark and Eddie, and this poor, misfortunate creature, who by the luck of the draw had ended up a grotesquerie of circus freak proportions, raised in poverty on the side of a mountain amidst a bunch of crazy rednecks. No telling what she had seen, what kind of sick and twisted perversions she’d been a party to, or had even been forced upon her. Growing up around Willem and Arley couldn’t have been easy, and Eddie felt sorry for her, because none of it was her fault: the way she looked, the way she acted, the fact that at such a young age she was willing to sleep with a perfect stranger as if it was the most natural thing for a child to do. And she was a child, with a child’s body and a child’s mind. Too bad her uncle fucked his sister and his sister fucked her son, or whatever the hell had happened to bring her into the bizarre world she inhabited.

  Mark said, “Dude, how did we ever get caught up in this shit?”

  “I think it started with a phone call from a friend, something about come on up to North Carolina and help me take a load of Christmas trees out to the Cajuns? Of course, my trusted lifelong friend neglected to mention a small detail or two, like he planned on stealing half the fucking trees.”

  “Would that have made a difference?”

  “I don’t know,” Eddie said. “Maybe. Would’ve been nice to know what I was getting myself into.” But Eddie knew it wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference. He would’ve done damn near anything to get away from that fucked-up situation back in Florida, and he was ecstatic when Mark invited him up. As for what he was getting himself into, one thing he knew for a fact, and had always known: anytime you hook up with Mark Rockley—anything can happen. “I damn sure wasn’t looking to get hung up in this shit.”

  “Could’ve been worse.”

  “What could be worse than this?”

  “I don’t know, being shacked up in a dingy little apartment, pining over some conniving, two-timing, ball-buster?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s much worse than being chased through the mountains by a bunch of gun-toting dope farmers on their way to way to Appalachia’s version of Custer’s Last Stand.”

  “You guys sure you’re not brothers?” said Brenda.

  “That was fucked up, wasn’t it?” Mark said.

  “Did you get a good look at Butchie’s boots?”

  “What,” Mark said. “The serpents? Yeah, I saw that right off the bat. Hey, him and his asshole buddies jumping me at the truck stop was fucked-up, but they didn’t deserve what happened to them. Nobody deserves that.”

  “No shit,” Eddie said, but he wasn’t so sure that he fully believed it, because at the time of their deaths, Butchie and his gang were seconds away from pulling off a little massacre of their own.

  They were halfway down the winding trail that would lead them back to Rickert’s Peak, walking straight down the middle of the path like a bunch of school kids skipping merrily down a sidewalk on their way home from detention hall, when Brenda said,

  “Maybe we should get off this path and move into the trees. No telling where Willem and Lewis are.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “They could be coming up this son of a bitch right now.”

  “God help us if they are,” said Eddie, and Mark said, “Fuck ‘em. We’ve got a gun.”

  Eddie thought, yeah, too bad we don’t have Clint Eastwood to shoot it for us.

  “Still,” Brenda said. “Maybe we shouldn’t be out in the open like a bunch of sitting ducks.”

  “No doubt,” Mark again.

  They cut to the left, across a small clearing and into the woods, where they stood for a moment staring through the fog, out at the path. Eddie looked back up the trail toward the shacks, but they’d gone so far he couldn’t even see them. “Well, hell,” he said. “Let’s get a move on.” He turned and started down the incline, tripped on a root and stumbled forward. His chest slammed the ground and so did his face, his hand followed suit and a gunshot echoed out over the mountain.

  Dolly jumped; she tried to run but Mark grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Where’re you going?” he said.

  “I don’t wanta get shot!”

  “You ain’t gonna get shot,” Mark said, as Eddie stood up and brushed a hand across the front of his pants, the pistol still dangling from his hand.

  “Way to go, Maverick,” Mark called out, as Dolly said, “You’re hurtin’ me.”

  “I’ll hurt you a lot worse if you try running again.”

  “Let her go, Mark,” Brenda said. “You won’t try anything, will you, Dolly?”

  “I wasn’t tryin’ anything then. I’s just scared, is all.”

  Tina, who had not uttered a word since leaving Gerald’s cabin, said, “I don’t trust her.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Brenda said, and Mark said, “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  Far in the distance came the rumbling of an engine, the same one that had carried Mark and Eddie and Brenda up the mountain a couple of hours ago.

  Dolly chuckled. “Boy, is he gonna be pissed when he sees what y’all done to Arley!”

  “Shut up, bitch,” Tina growled, and Brenda said, “Jesus.”

  Mark said, “The fuck’re we gonna do now?”, and Dolly giggled.

  “Back into the woods,” Eddie said, and they turned and ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  They were up on the ridge, laughing about the look on Horse-Trader Harry’s face when he threw open his door to find Lewis standing on the porch. It had gone smooth, almost too smooth. Willem had thought the old man would put up a fight, order them off the porch and away from his house; argue or refuse to meet their demands, something. But he did none of those things, just accepted the deal like he already knew he had no choice in the matter. It went just the way it should have. Willem showing up in the middle of the night had sent an unspoken message: I’m in charge now! And when the old horse trader looked up at Lewis, and then over at Willem, the mountain man saw in his eyes that he knew whatever deal he and Elbert had cooked up in the past had come to an end, their business concluded and all matters put to rest.

  Because Willem was in charge now.

  They were just breaking out into the clearing when the loud report echoed across the mountainside. Willem stopped the jeep. “Listen,” he said, but there was nothing to listen to. He killed the ignition—still there was no noise. He fired up the engine and pulled forward.

  “Where ya reckon that came from?” Lewis asked him, but Willem had no idea, and he voiced the thought with a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders.

  They came to the edge of the cliff, hung a left and started up the trail. Once again, Willem stopped, mashed the clutch and pushed down on the brake, the engine idling noisily as he stared up the mountainside. He was a wild animal, raised in the deep woods of North Carolina, and now those animal instincts were kicking into high gear. He looked at Lewis, and said, “Somethin’ ain’t right.”

  “You reckon Arley shot one of ‘em? You know how he is. Maybe he was just playin’ around and fired off a shot or somethin’.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  It could have been that Arley had shot one of them, sure, why not—he did shit like that all the time. But something didn’t feel right. Willem looked around, eyes staring through layers of fog that had gotten thicker and more pronounced as they’d made their way up the mountain. “Why don’t you go on back down to the caves, check on that girl and make sure everything’s all right. Check it out and come on back home.”

  Lewis swung a leg onto the ground, and gripped the frame of the jeep. Hoisting himself up and out, he leaned into the back. The ax he’d used on Joey Markham was next to Willem’s bow and quiver of arrows, and the shotgun that had been taken from Butchie Walker. Lewis grabbed the ax and took a backward step. He stood for a moment, wa
tching the jeep rumble away into the distance, and then stalked off across the clearing.

  * * *

  They scampered away from the tree line, deeper into the woods. They could hear the jeep getting closer as it rumbled up the mountainside. Dolly knelt between Tina and Eddie, Brenda beside Mark, tears running down her cheeks, one hand shaking, the other clamped across her mouth, stifling the sobs that would surely give them away if she failed to keep them in check.

  Dolly said, “I’d hate to be you guys when they get up to the cabin and see what y’all done.”

  “Shut up,” Eddie told her.

  She giggled and he grabbed a handful of hair, and yanked her head back.

  “Hey,” she said, and he forced the gun into her mouth.

  “I swear to God,” he said. “You make one sound, do anything to give us away—anything. He cocked the hammer back and her eyes grew wide. “There’ll be a hole where the back of your head used to be.” He paused a moment before adding, “Got it?”

  The rumbling sound of the engine drew closer as Dolly’s head bobbed up and down, and Eddie looked deep into her eyes. He eased the hammer back into place, but left the barrel clamped between her teeth. “Just remember what I said.”

  When the jeep rolled by, the fog was so thick they couldn’t even see it. They all breathed a sigh of relief, because if they couldn’t see Willem and Lewis, then Willem and that freak of nature cousin of his couldn’t see them.

  “Whew,” Brenda said, as she and Tina and Mark stood, Mark arming a band of sweat from his forehead while Tina stared out at the fog-enshrouded trail.

  Eddie slipped the gun out of Dolly’s mouth.

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wouldn’t’ do nothin’ to hurt you.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Eddie told her as he stood. He took hold of her forearm and helped her up, put a hand on her shoulder, and said, “Can you take us to that cave you were talking about now?”

  “I reckon.”

  “Good deal,” Mark said. “Let’s get going.”

  He took a step forward, but Dolly said, “Huh uh.” He turned and she said, “This way. I know a shortcut.”

  They followed as she stomped through the underbrush, Eddie and Brenda behind her, then Tina and Mark… deeper into the woods until they came upon what looked to be a well-traveled footpath. Trees and bushes and thick patches of underbrush stood off to their right. On their left, the mountain and its landscape of rocks and trees, bushes and boulders rose up before them. Moonlight filtering through the treetops painted sharp, pinpointed patterns across the forest floor.

  No one spoke as they made their way down the mountainside.

  Brenda, still clad in only a bra and jeans, finally said, “Man, it’s getting cold out here. She rubbed a hand up and down her forearm, and Dolly said, “You should’a said somethin’ back at the cabin. I’d’ve got you one of Gerald’s shirts.”

  Brenda said nothing as she walked forward, rubbing her forearm.

  To say that Eddie was nervous would have been the understatement of the century. He didn’t want to go to the caves. He didn’t want to keep following Dolly—even if he did have a pistol in his hand. All he could think about was finding his way back to the clearing and running down the mountainside. That’s what they should be doing, hauling ass to the valley to get some help. Gather up an army of rednecks and send them into the caves.

  The caves.

  Jesus.

  Who could know what waited there, or what might happen once they’d entered them? All they knew was they were going to ‘see Granny’, who lived in the caves with a bunch of her kin. The ones who look worse than Dolly. Way worse than Dolly. What the hell did that even mean—how could it be possible? Eddie’s mind couldn’t wrap itself around the concept. It didn’t want to. If they did look much worse than Dolly, he didn’t want to see them. And he sure as hell didn’t want them seeing him.

  ‘Most of ‘em are half crazy’…

  Jesus…

  … some all the way.’

  … fucking Christ.

  No, he didn’t want to go there, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. And why, because in the course of three or four hours he had fallen for some country girl he’d probably never lay eyes on again after they got out of this? If they got out of this. Because Mark, even after some psycho had pulled an arrow through his hand, was willing to go forward, to face whatever horrible ordeal might be waiting so he could help rescue someone who was probably far beyond their help anyway?

  Hell, she’s probably beyond anyone’s help, with all the blood leaking out of her, her poor little face as white as a fish’s belly.

  Jesus.

  Eddie looked over his shoulder at Mark, wondering if he had been thinking along those same lines. Mark shrugged his shoulders, and Eddie figured he probably had been. He turned back just in time to see Dolly reach into one of the wide pockets decorating the front of her loose-fitting gown, turn and drive a steak knife into Brenda’s chest, giggle and take off running down the path.

  Brenda staggered backward, and Mark cried out, “Fuck!”

  Eddie raised the gun and Tina said, “Don’t!”

  And, of course, he couldn’t. Pulling the trigger would be like sending up a flare.

  Hey, here we are! Right over here!

  And God only knew what kind of crazy freaks of nature would come swarming out after them then.

  Mark grabbed an arm and Eddie grabbed the other, and they eased Brenda onto the ground. Eddie went for the wooden handle of the knife still lodged in her chest, but Mark grabbed his hand. “Jesus Christ, Dude, haven’t you ever watched E.R.? You pull that shit out and she’ll bleed to death!”

  “E.R.”

  “What?”

  “You watch E.R.”

  “So what?”

  “Gimme a break.”

  “Clooney’s cool, man.”

  “Get outa here.”

  “And that friggin’ nurse Hathaway.”

  “Christ.”

  “They’re just reruns.”

  “You’re a rerun.”

  Brenda gasped out, “You guys are brothers. You gotta be.”

  Eddie laughed and Mark shook his head, and Eddie said, “You okay?”

  “Do I look okay?” she said, grimacing as they stared at her wound.

  “Sorry,” he said, because with a line of blood trickling down from the hilt of the knife, she most certainly did not look okay. Not even close. “I mean, can you walk outa here if we help you up?”

  “I can hardly breathe. Just let me lie here a minute.” Her eyes looked up at the treetops. Her eyelids fluttered a couple of times, and then fluttered shut.

  * * *

  They were up on the ridge now, running for the tree line. The clearing was in sight, beyond that, the woods. To the right was Rickert’s Peak, the giant rock formation Charlie and Traber and Horse-Trader Harry Edwards had seen damn near every day of their lives.

  Running through the tree line and into the clearing, shotguns held in front of them like something out of a an old war movie. Too bad they didn’t have John Wayne or Chuck Norris leading the way. Too bad Charlie didn’t have John Wayne or Chuck Norris with him in the shack when the Johnsons stormed the building and all hell broke loose. Yeah, he’d told Harry what happened, all right. But he didn’t tell him everything. He told him about the giant kicking the shit out of him, but he didn’t tell him the lights didn’t go out, that he feigned unconsciousness while that monster raped the hell out of Harry’s niece. No way could he tell him about that—he could barely admit it to himself. The screaming and the crying and the animalistic grunting as that sorry son of a bitch rammed his… Charlie couldn’t bear to think of it now. All he could think of was getting up this godforsaken mountain and getting her back. He owed her that much. That much and a whole lot more. And if she’d have him, he would spend the rest of his miserable life making it up to her.

  Across the clearing, past the trail and into the woods, Ch
arlie in front, Traber and Harry on either side of him, running through the misty blanket of fog. They would get her back if they had to kill everyone on the mountain to do it. And if she was beyond their help, if—God forbid—she was dead, they would kill them anyway. Every last one of them.

  Charlie slowed when they came to an outcropping of thick underbrush.

  “This way,” he said, and then stepped to the right, Harry and Traber moving behind him until he finally spotted a break in the bushes: the opening that big-assed prick had carted Thel Colbert through on his way to the dark hole they had disappeared into.

  “Through there.”

  Down a footpath they went, Charlie leading the way, Traber and Harry huffing and puffing behind him… around and up and further into the dark woods of Rickert’s Mountain, until they were standing next to a sloping, rock-studded incline surrounded by bushes and trees, a mountainous incline of dirt and rock that rose high into the night.

  Charlie followed a solid wall around and to the right. Slipping and sliding on some loose stones that littered the path, he finally stopped in front of an opening, tall and wide and big enough for a man to walk through. The dark mouth of the cave gave way to a long and narrow tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, a faint yellow glow.

  “This is it.”

  Traber handed his shotgun over to Charlie—“You know how to use this thing?”

  “Damn right I do.”

  —Pulled the box of shells from his jacket, and handed them to him as well. “Stuff these in your pockets and get up to that campsite.”

  “What campsite? What’re you talkin’ about, Tina could be in—”

  “She may be in here and she may not be. You said that giant son of a bitch carried Thel Colbert in here, and Brenda Sykes and her friends got hauled up the mountain in Willem’s jeep. What’s to say Tina isn’t up there too?