Countless Haints, Pt. 10
Madi thought she was farther away from home than she had ever been before.
That wasn't true, of course. Every now and then, Pa had taken her into the nearby town of Ahmen's Landing. Usually, she just waited in the truck while he ducked into the feed store or the hardware supply. She would sit there, watching the townsfolk—the women chatting as they exited the beauty shop, the men gathering outside the diner, the kids her age laughing and goofing off as they strolled past. Once, one of the boys had looked her way and smiled even though he was walking with a girl who must have been his girlfriend. Madi felt her face flush and she gasped aloud. In the instant when their eyes met—in that second before Madi forced herself to look away—she felt like the prettiest girl in all the world… and she was certain that he was the most handsome boy that ever lived. And then he was gone, continuing on his way, throwing his arm around his girl, talking loudly and boisterously with his friends.
A couple of times, Madi had accompanied her father to the grocery. The small store with its crowded, dusty shelves and rumbling refrigeration units seemed like a magical place to the girl. She could have spent hours browsing those shelves, looking at canned food and boxes of cereal and packets of juice mix. The colors and the images amazed her. But Pa always hurried along, like he didn't want to be seen with her. Madi had to admit, some of the other customers looked at her strangely, not with malice or distaste, but with a glimmer of familiarity. Madi always left the store with a couple of bags of groceries, a tattered paperback book or a few out-of-date magazines, and the distinct the impression that the townsfolk wanted to talk to her… but they were afraid.
Ahmen's Landing.
How far away was town? At least a few miles, she guessed, maybe as many as a couple of dozen. On foot, with someone chasing her through the woods, it might as well have been on the other side of the—
"Madi!"
Pa's voice cut through the night—loud and clear and close. The sound of it sent a shockwave through Madi's bones, and she stumbled and almost lost her footing.
She whirled around, scanning the darkness. For a few dreadfully slow seconds, she saw nothing, heard nothing, and she wondered if her mind might have been playing tricks on her, if the sounds of the forest weren't coming together in such a way as to make her think she'd heard her father.
"Madi! Stop right there!"
As he called out again, Madi spotted him in the shadows. He threaded his way through the trees, a shadow among shadows, moving toward her quickly.
"Don't move!" he cried.
Madi had never known her father to have a quick temper. He had never been a cruel or mean-spirited man. But she had seen him angry from time to time, not necessarily with her, but maybe with life in general. She recognized the knife-like edge of anger in the man's voice when she heard it.
And she heard it now.
Pa was angry.
"Run."
From the satchel at her side, the boy's skin hissed.
"Run!"
And she ran, turning away from her father and scrambling into the darkness, slipping in the leaves and pine straw and almost falling face first to the ground, but pushing herself forward, through the trees, down a hillside, over a cluster of large rocks that pushed their way out of the forest floor. She heard her father behind her—his bellowing cry, his breath coming in rugged gasps, his heavy footsteps coming closer, but she didn't dare look back. She willed her legs to pump faster, and the world around her seemed to blur into nothing but mist and gloom and the painful sting of branches slapping at her, scratching her face, trying to drag her down.
"Stop!" Pa called, and it sounded like he was just a couple of steps behind her. He no longer sounded like himself, though. Instead, his voice was deep and rough and bestial. "Madi! Listen to me!"
His fingertips grasped at her shoulders, and she almost fell again. His hand caught hold of her arm, jerking her to a stop. Madi cried out in pain. It felt like he had ripped her arm out of it socket. The satchel fell from her shoulder, thumping to the ground, as Madi was forcibly yanked around to face her father. She tried not to scream, tired not to sob, but she couldn't help herself.
"Dammit, girl!"
His face was a mask of anger, and sweat dripped from his nose. His breath came in hot blasts that washed across Madi. He grabbed her—hard—by both shoulders and pulled her close. She knew he was going to kill her right then and there. He was going to put his big, sweaty hands around her throat and squeeze until he choked the life out of her.
"Dammit!" he spat again. "Why make this any harder than it has to be?"
"Please," Madi whined, "I don't want to–"
"Don't you say it! Don't you dare say another word! You think anyone wants to die? You think anyone—lease of all me—wants to do what has to be done?"
"Why?" Madi tried to pull away, but her father only seemed to draw her in closer. His hands moved up to her throat, his fingers crawling across her skin. His touch seemed to sear her flesh. "Why are you doing this?"
"It's good that you don't know, girl." Pa's chin trembled as if he was on the verge of weeping. "It's good that you're gone before you realize what you are."
His fingers closed around her throat.
