Page 67 of Blackwood

“I told you to stay out of these woods.” The scratchy voice, the unkempt beard. Recognition flared right along with a burst of fear. Danny loomed over me, my pistol in his hand. He flipped it so he had it by the barrel. The butt of my own gun was the last thing I saw.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Hey!”

My right cheek stung, and my ears rang.

“Hey, wake the fuck up!” Someone yelled and slapped me, the sound like a shot.

I opened my eyes and tried to back away, but I couldn’t move. My wrists and ankles were bound.

Danny reared back to slap me again.

“Stop!” I struggled away, but bumped into something sturdy and fell to my side. I blinked hard, but only one of my eyes opened. The dim interior of the shack greeted me as Danny yanked me upright and shoved me against the wall.

“Stay put.”

I sucked in air to scream.

He clapped a filthy hand over my mouth and leaned down into my face. “Scream and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

I breathed out hard through my nose.

“Nobody would hear you anyway.” He sat back on his haunches, the dim light seeping through the doorway only illuminating half his face. The matted beard seemed even filthier, the spit streaks forming two dark lines from each side of his mouth. He scratched at his sallow skin with one hand and pointed my gun at me with the other.

“Let me go.” I glanced toward the door.

“Nowhere. That’s where you’re going.” He scratched harder. “I told you to stop digging. Told you to leave well enough alone.” His voice grew to a shout. “I told you to go back!”

I cringed against the wall as his face contorted into a mask of rage.

“Please, just let me go.” I coughed. The pain in my head blossomed like the cruelest flower, and I tasted blood. “Please.”

“I can’t! You done found your daddy.” He yanked on his beard. “That’ll get back to me. I can’t have that. No I can’t.” He shook his head. “Sure can’t. No, no, can’t. No.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” I leaned forward, trying to look into his eyes, trying to convince him my life was worth more than a bullet and another shallow grave. “Please.”

“Stop saying please!” He stood, but kept the gun trained on me. “I can’t change it. Not now. Too late.” He sagged against the opposite wall. “Why didn’t you listen? Why?”

“I had to find him.” Dizziness took hold, and I dry-heaved. The effort felt like a spikey sledgehammer to my face.

“You found him. So what?” He bent over and stared into my one good eye. “You think he wanted you to die out here, too?”

“Why did you kill him?”

“Does it matter?” He shrugged.

“Yes!” I screamed with what little force I had left. “Tell me why.”

“You want a story before bedtime, is that it? You want to know it all before I kill you and bury you in the same grave?” He mumbled under his breath too quickly for me to follow. “You know what curiosity gets you?” He cackled, his missing teeth like the holes in his sanity. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He pushed off the wall, and I tried to make a move toward the door. All I managed to do was make it easier for him to rip me off the ground and drag me out of the shack.

He took hold of my hair and yanked me toward my father’s grave. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you all you need to know about curiosity.”

Agony and disbelief punctured every soft tissue of my body as my knees hit the forest floor and he dragged me along by my hair. My screams didn’t stop, but he wasn’t concerned with the noise anymore. He sped up, rushing through the woods. I skittered along the ground, kicking and twisting as the pressure on my hair increased until I feared it would rip out. He threw me into the grave, then grabbed my wrists. After a few moments, he grunted, and the pressure on my wrists eased; he’d untied me. He scrambled out of the grave, my gun still in his hand. He grabbed the small spade and threw it to me.

“Dig!”

I shook my head. “No.”

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