Rusty had broken his arm playing on a jungle gym when he was in the first grade. It had hurt so bad he had vomited from the pain. He didn’t believe anything would ever again hurt as bad as that had hurt. He’d been wrong. This did. A back full of buckshot did.
“I told you to pick him up,” Mrs. McFarland said and all he could do was look at her and try not to cry.
“I can’t carry him. When we were in the woods, I tried—”
She came at him, lunged at him, and he thought she was going to hit him with the rifle. She probably intended to do just that, but she caught herself before she did.
“Don’t you dare stand there and lie to me about trying to help my baby. You forced him to go into the woods where it’s dangerous. I know my baby. I told him not to go there and he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t forced him. You had it all planned out, all along.”
He could barely speak, the pain so took his breath away.
“What planned …?”
“You wanted to ride the Jabberwock. Thought it would be fun, like all them boys did when it first happened, all them stupid teenagers thought it would be a good time. You’s just like ‘em. But you was a coward, afraid to do it by yourself. You planned all along to force my Dougie to go with you. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”
He was afraid of what she would do if he said no, so he said nothing at all.
“But my Dougie wouldn’t do it, would he? He knew I wouldn’t want him to do a thing like that. He refused. He turned and walked away, didn’t he? Stood up to you even though you was bigger and stronger. Wouldn’t let you push him around, no sir. And then that little snake bit him.” She paused and her eyes grew brighter. “You had that all planned out, too, didn’t you? You seen that snake and you shoved him down, tripped him so he landed right on top of it.” She was so infuriated at the scene she was painting in her head Rusty was certain she would shoot him down where he stood.
“No … I didn’t trip …”
Rusty hurt so bad he couldn’t form words.
Her eyes blazed, then the look in them shifted.
“Of course, you didn’t. My precious Dougie saw the snake and fell on it on purpose!” Her eyes were clouded with insanity. “He did it to save you. Like a soldier jumps on a hand grenade to save his buddies. My brave boy sacrificed himself for you!”
Her eyes refocused on him, her look razor sharp with rage.
“And what did you do? Were you grateful that he’d saved your life? No! You took advantage of him. He was hurt, too sick to fight you off so you dragged him into the Jabberwock with you and the Jabberwock ki—”
She stopped herself, literally clamped her mouth shut so she couldn’t continue. When she spoke again, she had that funny glazed look in her eye again.
“The Jabberwock made him so sick! But it didn’t make you as sick as it did Dougie — did it?”
He said nothing.
“Did it?”
“No ma’am,” he managed.
“That’s right, it didn’t. You sucked the life out of Dougie. Not the Jabberwock — you! Bigger than he is, stronger than he is, him weakened by saving your life from that snake … and what did you do? You sucked him dry, stole all the energy from his pure soul. You stole his life. And now you’re going to give it back.”
He wanted to ask her what it was she wanted him to give back, but he was afraid to speak now because he could feel his stomach reeling, was afraid if he tried to talk he would just open his mouth and vomit.
She gestured with the barrel of the gun.
“Now, you pick my baby up and you take him with you. You’re going back through and this time you’re going to give your life to Dougie instead of the other way around. This time, you’re the one who’s going to be real sick, and my Dougie …”
She looked at the stiff body of her dead son tenderly.
“My Dougie will be well.”
She pointed the rifle at Rusty’s chest.
“Pick him up.”
Rusty leaned over and began to heave. There was nothing left in his stomach to vomit, but the pain-fueled nausea had grabbed hold of his guts and was trying to turn him wrong side out anyway. He tried to stop, wanted to beg her not to shoot him for not obeying her, that he’d do anything if she just wouldn’t shoot him again. But all he could do was heave.
The world grayed. He swayed, dizzy, his throat raw from stomach acid and heaving.
Finally the heaving subsided and he stood leaning over with his hands on his knees, tears running down his cheeks, gasping for breath.
“Come over here.”
When he looked up, Mrs. McFarland had moved Dougie’s body. Now it lay stretched out in front of the shimmer of the Jabberwock in the middle of the road.
“Come. Here. Now!”
Rusty staggered forward, unable to stand upright because of the pain in his back, staring at his own shimmering reflection in the Jabberwock in front of him.
Mrs. McFarland put the rifle down on the road and went to her son’s body. She put her hands under his arms and stood him up! He was as rigid as a mannequin in a department store window. Rusty’s mother had told him that happened after somebody died, that they got stiff.
“Hold him!” she commanded.
Rusty looked at the distorted face of his dead friend and if he’d been able to vomit, he would have started again. He didn’t want to touch him.
“I will blow your whole leg off if you don’t—”
He reached out and put his arms around the body. It smelled like nothing Rusty had ever smelled before. Though he knew Douglas had never been buried, Rusty was certain that what he smelled was the aroma of a grave.
Rusty stood there swaying, holding Douglas’s body.
He felt Mrs. McFarland grab his shoulder and shove, and he and Douglas fell forward. Then the world dissolved into sparkling black light and he could hear the sound of static in his ears.
Shep fired again and again, feeling the recoil of the rifle. He’d already pulled off two shots before Claude began to fire beside him. He could barely see the end of his rifle, but out in front was that clear spot where the van was parked and he did his best to hit the people he could see gathered around the open door on the side of it.
And then the clear spot vanished. Like you was standing outside in the rain, looking in a window, and it suddenly started raining inside the house. All at once, there was a solid wall of drenching rain, stretching in front of Shep, and nothing to be seen out there beyond.
He kept firing anyway. Caught sight of the white blob of the van — it was moving. He fired at it repeatedly, but the image was gone in seconds.
“They’re gone,” Claude said, putting his hand on Shep’s shoulder. Meaning he’d ought to quit shooting because there wasn’t nothing to shoot at. “We’ll get them next time.”
And they would get them next time. Shep knew now where he’d ought to lay in wait. He wouldn’t come with just Claude next time, neither. He’d get others, round up everybody he could find who’d lost someone in Nowhere County, tell them the only way to get back those they loved was to kill these intruders. They’d do it. Wasn’t no doubt in Shep’s mind they would.
Them people down there, they’d come back right here to this spot. Shep didn’t know how he was so certain of that, but he was. And when they did, him and the others would be waiting for them. They’d set up all around in the vacant buildings, cut the nosey outsiders down in their tracks, soak the ground in their blood.
Then, the Jabberwock would let everybody go.
And Shep would have his Abby back.