The Last Harvest(19)
“Clay,” she says, quietly. “There’s something you need to see.” She slides a sheet of paper on her desk toward me with her index finger.
On the page, I find a sketch of the symbol, the upside-down U with two dots above and below. Scrawled beneath it, the words “DEVIL’S PORTAL.”
“What is this?”
“The mark you saw on Tyler and Ali. It means something. It’s an ancient symbol predating the Old Testament by a hundred years. They’ve found it throughout time carved into stones, trees, rivers … flesh. It’s considered an invitation.”
I try to play it off, but a chill rushes through my veins. “An invitation for what?”
She leans in, the smell of perfume and tea clinging to her skin. “For the Devil.”
My mind slips back to the breeding barn. The dead cow, slashed down the middle—Ali, her naked body slick with blood—the whispering, the stamping of feet like hooves. I’m trying to wrap my head around what she’s saying, but it can’t be.
I force a chuckle. “This is some kind of joke, right?”
“I know this is a lot to take in. I wanted to do this differently, in a different way … but things appear to be escalating quickly.”
“Seriously, don’t mess with me right now. Last night was crazy. I get it, okay?”
“This isn’t a joke, Clay.”
I start pacing the room, looking for hidden cameras or something. “Wait … so let me get this straight. I’ve been coming to you all year long telling you something’s not right with the Preservation Society … this town, and now that I’ve finally accepted things, now that I’m finally ready to put all this behind me, you’re telling me this is all about the Devil? That there’s some kind of invitation … in their skin?”
She places her hand on my arm. “I can help you, Clay. I know people … in the church.”
I pull away. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.”
“I think you’re a prophet. You see things others can’t see. Just like your father.”
“Please stop … just stop…” I dig my fingers into my skull.
“We knew something was coming here. Something evil. We just didn’t think it would happen like th—”
“Did Mr. Neely put you up to this?” I turn on her. “Is this some kind of a test? When he asked me to join the council last night, come to the Harvest Festival, get back on the team, I thought it was a suggestion. I didn’t know he’d go this far. Tell him no thanks. He can send me to jail, or whatever, but I’m not playing his games anymore.”
“Clay, I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re all trying to drive me insane.” I stalk toward her. “Is that what this is all about?”
“I … I only want to help you,” she sputters as she backs against the far wall, like she’s suddenly afraid of me.
I snatch the paper from her desk and get right in her face. “Is this your idea of helping me? Helping me straight off a cliff?”
“Clay,” she whispers. “You need to trust me. You’re not crazy, but we need to act swiftly and—”
“I always stuck up for you. People said you were off, but I just thought they were being jerks. I’m not so sure anymore.” I crumple up the paper and throw it in the trash. “I’m done talking about this. Thinking about this. I actually felt good today.” Tears sting my eyes, which makes me even angrier. “I don’t need you and I certainly don’t need a high school diploma to plow fields.”
“Clay, I know this is a tough time for you with the anniversary and the game—”
“This isn’t about football!” I pull my hair back from my face in frustration. I feel so f*cking confused, I don’t even know what to do with myself. “Just leave me alone.”
I storm out of the school to my truck. As I’m driving down Main Street, past the Preservation Society, I turn on the stereo, hoping for some relief. Instead, an evangelist shouts, “Hold your loved ones close because the Devil’s coming for you. Coming for all of us.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” I rip the stereo from the dash and chuck it out the window.
11
ON MY way home, I pull into Merritt’s to fill up the tank. I hear a bunch of kids messing around on the side of the building by the woods.
A girl laughs; I stop pumping the gas. I haven’t heard it in a long time, but I know that laugh.
Fists clenched, I stride toward the side of the building, my boots sinking into the gravel. Please let me be wrong.
I come around the corner to find Jess angled up against the concrete-block wall, smoking a cigarette. She’s wearing skintight jeans, Noodle’s favorite unicorn T-shirt, which barely covers Jess’s chest, and my flannel slung low around her hips.
A boy with stringy black hair gawks up at me. “Oh, shit.”
The kids take off running into the woods.
I grab Jess’s arm, whipping her around. “Don’t even think about it.”
I’m not sure if she’s on something or what, but she’s staring off behind me all dreamlike. I turn to see Lee Wiggins standing at the edge of the woods, smiling at me with his split lip. It’s like he’s daring me to come after him. I wonder if my dad told him all that crazy stuff about the seed and the calf when he was out there buying meth. Whatever his deal is, I’m not taking the bait.