The Hollows(38)

She gave up.

Turned back towards them, ready to accept her fate. Unable to run any more.

She opened her dry mouth to speak.

And a hand clamped down on her shoulder.





PART TWO





Chapter 19


The day after Abigail’s funeral, on a spring morning in 1999, the three of them gathered at the spot by the lake where Crow had first met the others. They hadn’t arranged it; it just felt like the right thing to do. Crow had worried, in the lead-up to Abigail’s death, that without their leader the group would break apart, but her final words to them – the last time they saw her before she was admitted, against her will, to the hospital – had quelled those fears.

‘The three of you,’ she had said, ‘you need to stick together.’ Her voice had been weak but the humour, the wisdom, never left her eyes. ‘Only you understand this place.’ She looked at each of them in turn. ‘You have to remember what I’ve taught you. Will you do that?’

They all nodded.

‘This is a sacred place. Our sacred place. We—’

At that very moment, there came a noise in the trees. The sound of laughter, of teenage voices, and then the distinct smell of cigarettes. Kids from the campground. Abigail sighed but Crow’s stomach clenched with anger, and he charged towards the line of trees to confront them, Goat and Fox backing him up, just as one of the kids crushed out a cigarette underfoot.

‘Hey. Assholes. Pick that up.’

A fight almost broke out and Goat held Crow back, Crow’s fists clenching and unclenching, the hatred hot in his veins. He yelled after the campground kids as they retreated, and it felt good to see the fear on their faces.

‘That’s right!’ he yelled. ‘Run back to your little campground.’

When they returned to Abigail, she looked weak. Even though they were young and ignorant, they knew she didn’t have long. The sickness had done its work quickly.

‘It’s a full moon tonight,’ she said. She had spoken to them at length about lunar cycles, their importance in nature, how pagans and believers in the old ways scheduled their lives around the moon. ‘A good time to go.’

‘Please, don’t say that.’ Goat had tears in his eyes.

She reached out to cup his face. ‘I’ll always be here,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’ That had been Fox.

Abigail had smiled, though it hadn’t reached her eyes. Her voice was weak and they had to lean close to hear her. ‘Why would I ever want to leave this place? I’m gonna stick around, kids.’ She had attempted a laugh, then eyed the spot where the campground kids had been and shook her head. ‘This place needs to be protected. Just know that whenever you hear the wind stirring the leaves, the lake lapping at the shore, when you trip over a rock . . .’

They had all laughed.

‘That’ll be me.’

Now she was gone, and the woods were silent. The water was silent.

And Crow, Fox and Goat were silent too.

They hadn’t been to the funeral because nobody except Abigail’s husband, Logan, knew she had been their friend. The three of them were aware of the questions that would be asked if they turned up. They all knew, too, that the funeral, a small Baptist ceremony, would have made them sick. It wasn’t what Abigail had wanted or deserved, and she’d only agreed to it because it was what Logan wanted.

‘What do you guys want to do?’ Goat asked after a while, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Fox stood up. ‘I need to get going.’

Crow, who was sitting on a rock, whipped his head towards her. ‘Why? What are you doing?’

‘I’m meeting someone,’ she said.

‘Who?’

She made an exasperated noise. ‘Do I have to tell you everything?’

He found it impossible to argue with her. He was too afraid of upsetting her. Every time he looked at her he felt itchy and nauseous. When he wasn’t with her, he longed to see her, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air when she wasn’t around. But when they were together he was no happier. He found it impossible to act natural; in fact, he had forgotten what natural felt like. He wondered if he was going crazy. Or maybe this was just what love felt like. It was horrible. But there was nothing he could do about it. He wouldn’t be cured until she loved him too.

‘Are you going to drop us, now Abigail’s gone?’ he found himself saying.

She tutted. ‘Don’t be dumb.’

‘Then who are you meeting?’

‘I don’t have to tell you.’

His mouth was running away with itself. ‘I just think it’s disrespectful, is all. We came here to remember Abigail and now—’

‘We’re not even talking!’

‘Then let’s talk. I want to hear about the first time you met her.’

Fox hesitated, looked towards the path. Then she folded her arms and sat back down. ‘Okay.’

Crow smiled to himself. He had won. And as he sat there, listening to Fox talk, Goat joining in, reminiscing about Abigail, something struck him. This group needed a new leader now. And as he thought this, he felt something. The breeze stirring around him. A ripple on the water. The hairs on his arms stood up and he felt something brush against his face.