Page 27 of Backwoods
“I’m not sure where we are in relation to the lake we saw earlier,” Nick said. “But I’m going to assume that this plantation will have been built close to the water source. We should head north.”
They traveled in that direction, keeping close to the bank of the bubbling creek. The constant trickle of the running water had the weird effect of triggering Nick’s thirst. Amiya lent him the small aluminum canteen that she had attached to her purse.
“Small sips, please,” she said. “Although we’re next to a creek, I doubt the water is safe to drink without boiling it first.”
“If there truly is a plantation up here, there ought to be a well near it,” he said.
“Among other things,” she said with a sneer. “Like slave quarters and the big house.”
The creek gradually widened, the water flowing with greater strength. About a hundred feet ahead, on the other side of the stream, Nick saw a wooden shed amongst the pines. The structure looked old, like a relic that should have been standing in a museum, or torn down.
“We’ve got something up there,” Amiya said.
17
Upon closer inspection, the shed was in worse condition than Nick had initially thought. Once white, the paint had faded to a washed-out gray, much of it peeled away in the elements. Thick verdant vines snaked through gaps in the roof and the hinges of the closed door. A thatch of broken branches covered the top, like a bird’s nest.
An old-fashioned padlock was still attached to the door hasp. The metal bristled with rust.
“There might be something useful in there,” Amiya said.
Nick tugged at the lock and found it still functional. He hammered the butt of the rifle against the metal loop. It took three strong whacks to break it apart, each slam echoing through the woods like gunfire.
Amiya stepped forward and detached the busted lock from the hasp. She grasped the rusted door handle and pulled, but the tangle of vines and plants prevented her from getting it open more than a couple of inches.
“Let me help,” Nick said.
Together, straining and grunting, they pried open the shed door, undergrowth tearing away like connective tissue.Something small, dark, and furry bolted from inside and rushed away through the tall grass. Amiya let out a short yelp of surprise.
Nick moved to get a better view of what lay inside. He gasped.
Two frayed ropes dangled from the ceiling of the structure, secured by iron bolts. The end of each was knotted around the wrists of a badly decomposed human corpse.
Each foot of the body was bound by rope, too, the ropes held by bolts on the floor.
Nausea whirled through Nick. He had to take a couple of steps back to regain his balance. Next to him, Amiya put her hand to her mouth.
“Torture,” she said in a whisper. “Tied up in here and left to die.”
Nick drew several deep breaths; it felt as if his stomach was going to empty its contents. Once he regained his bearings, he forced himself to move forward and take a closer look, but it felt as if lead weights had been strapped to his feet.
The corpse was too far gone for him to determine facial features, but it wore clothing. A badly soiled T-shirt that once had been white, and denim jeans. A pair of Nike sneakers, too, a style that had been popular perhaps five years ago.
Nick swallowed. “This person, they haven’t been here that long. A few years at the most. The shoes aren’t that old.”
“Who imprisoned them in here?” Amiya asked. “The Overseer?”
Steeling himself, Nick edged closer. Black beetles and other burrowing insects had made a home in the orifices and crevices of the body.
“I could really use a pair of gloves right now,” he said.
“Hey, don’t,” Amiya said.
Grimacing, he slipped his fingers into a front pocket. Something small and shiny scampered out of the folds of fabric,and Nick nearly gave up the effort. But a growing sense of duty compelled him forward.
This is my family’s land . . . my responsibility.
The first pocket he checked was empty, but in the other front pocket, he grasped what felt like a wallet. He fished it out and backed away from the shed.
