I thought of Peter’s words – stay hidden – but I couldn’t help myself. I broke out of my hiding place in the woods and staggered into the clearing like a frantic, wounded deer.
‘Jonah!’
He was sprawled on his back, his legs and arms spread out. Why was he just lying there? Why didn’t he get up and run away?
I dropped to my knees beside him. I put my arms out to shake him awake but something was leaking on his shirt. It was wet and dark—
Blood? I pulled back my hands.
No. This can’t be real.
The stain was spreading, soaking his shirt, forming a river that dripped onto the ground.
‘You shot him,’ I shouted. ‘He’s dying.’
My heart pounded and I couldn’t breathe. Was I dying too? Everything was spinning – the grey gravel road, the faded green grass, the brown earth.
I put my hands on the ground to steady myself. I bent over Jonah’s body and listened for the sound of breathing. Nothing.
‘You killed him,’ I sobbed, looking up at the men, wiping away the tears that made everything hazy. ‘What did you have to kill him for?’
It was like they couldn’t hear me. Fat Charlie stared at his gun. Chipmunk was behind the car, puking. Weasel smiled like a stupid stoner. I caught a glimpse of Kyle inside the car. He was sucking on a cigarette, blowing smoke through the open window, not even bothering to look out.
A gurgling sound came from the back of Jonah’s throat. Still alive. I put my hand on the sleeve of his shirt, clutched the red-soaked material as if that could keep him with me. Maybe there was time. Maybe if somebody called an ambulance, he’d pull through.
‘Please, please, won’t you help us?’ Fat rivers of snot and tears flowed down my face. I looked at the men again, tried to focus. Maybe one of them cared. The younger ones were like us. Just kids.
‘Please. Before it’s too late.’
They stood in front of the car in a jagged, blurry line. Charlie. Weasel. Chipmunk. Their faces were empty – blank white spaces. There was nothing in their eyes. No pity. No shame.
Jonah coughed. That meant he was still breathing, right? I touched his hair, felt his warm forehead. The blood wasn’t coming out as fast, but it covered the front of his shirt now, and the pool on the ground was seeping into the dirt.
‘Jonah?’ I whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’
He didn’t answer. He didn’t move. There was a sickening groan from the back of his throat, but after a few seconds that stopped, too.
I looked at the men again. Weasel lit up a cigarette, Charlie checked his watch. Nobody said anything. These guys were like soldiers, just doing their job. Nobody cared that Jonah was dying.
I shut up, too. What was the point of any more crying or pleading? I lay down next to Jonah, draped my arm across his body, closed my eyes and waited.
Part of my mind was still working, though. How could I get a gun or shovel out of somebody’s hand? I pictured it – I’d jump up suddenly from where I was lying, take them by surprise. I’d kick Charlie in the nuts and grab his gun while he was bent over, then swing around and knock Kyle out with the gun-barrel.
But most of my mind was still, and that stillness slowed the frantic parts down, made them fade away, until I felt peaceful, almost happy.
I wasn’t thinking at all, but hazy pictures floated in and out of my brain, like a pretty slide show. Mom was in some of them, laughing with me, holding my hand, kissing me. My brothers were there too, playing with me like they did when I was little – itsy-bitsy spider and peek-a-boo. A picture from one of the Duchess’s fancy art books drifted past, one of a girl standing in a muddy creek, laughing, with her white skirt held up to her thighs. And the Duchess was sitting beside me on her expensive leather couch, pointing things out in the picture to me, saying she always knew what a smart girl I was. So smart, she said, the way I could always figure things out.
A car door slammed, jerking me back to reality. I opened my eyes a little, watched my right hand move up and down on top of Jonah’s chest.
Up and down? Was he breathing? I listened. I could hardly hear but there it was – a tiny, wheezy snore.
I wanted to shake him awake but something hard and leathery touched my other hand. It was like the heel of a boot tapping on my skin, tickling me. Was this some kind of game?
Stay still, I told myself. Play dead. Blank everything out.
The boot – or whatever it was – pressed down harder, twisted back and forth. I held my breath, trying not to cry or shout, but it ground my hand into the dirt, and I felt the weight of it crunching my bones.
‘You like that, Etta?’ Kyle’s voice. He pressed down harder. The flesh on my fingers tore. I bit my lips, squeezed my eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t come out. Just get it over with, I thought, whatever you’re going to do. I’m not going to beg again. I don’t even care any more, so why don’t you just. . .
Kyle took his foot away. I let out little breaths, imagined the cool air on my raw, burning skin.
‘Let’s see if the Injun’s awake.’
I heard a dull thud. Jonah groaned in pain.
‘Stop it,’ I whimpered. ‘Don’t hurt him any more.’ I wanted to get up, fight back, but my body was frozen and so was my brain. I was in a kind of cocoon. It was light blue, a nothing colour. Empty.
‘You say something, Etta?’ Kyle, bending over me. ‘Can’t hear you from down there.’
He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up so hard my arm nearly came out of its socket. The rifle that was strapped across his back slipped a little, so he hiked it up with a twitch of his shoulder. He turned toward the woods. ‘We got a couple more for you, Charlie.’
I looked over, blinked a few times to make sure I was seeing things right. There were the tied-up guys from inside the car, huddled together in a clearing, wearing blindfolds. Fat Charlie had a gun pointed to one guy’s head.
A couple more. That meant Jonah and me.
Things went spinny again – my stomach heaved, my heart pounded. I had to find that cocoon again – the blue, empty place.
‘It didn’t have to be like this, Etta.’
Kyle’s voice sounded echoey and far away, like he was talking down a hollow tube. He was right next to me, though, touching my hair, like that was supposed to reassure me. Like that was his way of saying sorry or something.
‘It still don’t have to, if you know what I mean.’
I straightened up, quick as I could. I moved away from him, but he stepped towards me again, even closer.
‘Well?’ he said.
Well what? What was he talking about?
‘OK, then,’ he sighed. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
He nodded to Weasel, who leaned over and hoisted Jonah up by the shoulders, hauling him across the lawn like a bag of garbage, towards the woods where Charlie was waiting.
‘No,’ I shouted. ‘Let him be.’
Weasel kept going. I tried to squirm out of Kyle’s grip but he had both of my arms pinned tight to my body.
‘Like I said, Etta, it’s up to you.’
‘Make him stop!’
Kyle ran one of his hands across my shoulder, up to my neck, touching the back of my ear with his fingers.
‘That’s what you want?’
‘Yes,’ I said. He tickled the back of my ear with his fingers. He made gentle tracing movements, around my ear, behind it.
‘You sure?’
In my ear.
‘Course I’m sure. Leave him alone.’
Kyle dog-whistled Weasel, nodded toward the ground. Weasel dropped Jonah and stood over his body – like he was waiting for Kyle to bark out the next order.
‘OK, then,’ Kyle said, smiling. He took my face, tilted it up by the chin. A brown spot of tobacco was stuck between two of his teeth.
‘Let’s go inside.’
Inside?
‘What do we need to go inside for?’
Kyle pushed me toward the cabin, squeezing my arms, making the old bruises hurt again. ‘And there’s your mom always saying what a smart girl you are.’
My mom. Jesus.
‘Don’t do nothing till we’re done,’ Kyle shouted to the weasel.
Done? My stomach flipped over, bringing burning liquid to the back of my throat. I had to get away from him, away from the cabin door that was getting closer and closer.
‘No good changing your mind now,’ Kyle said.
My legs buckled and my feet dragged on the ground.
‘Come on, Etta,’ Kyle said, as he pulled me through the bashed-in door. ‘It’ll be fun.’