September 1976
Blue was lying down, down, down on the kitchen floor, sometime before dawn. The long night, the mushrooms, the horror, the
physical labor of getting blood off a ceiling was all coming to bear. She pressed the pads of her fingers into the linoleum
floor. There was dried blood deep under her fingernails. The scent was stuck in her nose. She could smell it, rusty and visceral.
Lacey had gone outside, but Jane was still in the kitchen, slumped in a chair, staring at the refrigerator blankly.
Sally appeared at the kitchen door.
“Dean says to take off all your clothes. We have to burn them. Get undressed and put them in the oven.”
Blue and Jane rose automatically and stripped down.
They went out into the gentle crack of dawn and undressed.
Dean had damaged the dome of the oven in his anger, but the firebox under it was intact, and there was a small blaze going.
They threw in their shorts and T-shirts.
There was a bucket of water and used bar of soap that Cat said they should wash themselves with, so they rubbed themselves with the cold water and dirty soap until they were clean and shivering, then dried off with one of the blankets they used to sleep on in the grass.
As they did so, Blue could see something was happening at the far end of the lawn, nearer to the trees and well away from
anyone who might, by some remote chance, come up their drive, some of the others were working away at something on the ground.
“They’re going to cut her up,” Sally said matter-of-factly. “Dean says we have to.”
The ax was gone from the woodpile.
The smoke from their burning clothes stung Blue’s eyes. Jane went around to the other side of the kitchen steps and threw
up. Blue helped her back inside. As they dressed, Blue tried to feel Jane’s thoughts, read her expression, figure out where
her head was at. Maybe Jane would come with her. There was plenty of money for both of them.
“Jane?” Blue said. “You okay?”
“I can’t . . .” Sweet Jane wiped at the corner of her mouth. “I can’t believe she betrayed us.”
Was Jane just saying this to prove her loyalty?
“What do you want to do now?” Blue asked.
This was as close to the end of the branch as she felt like she could go. Sweet Jane cocked her head at the question.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I just meant . . .” Do you want to run away right now with a bag of money? “. . . how do you feel?”
“I feel . . .”
Blue could just about hear the dull thud of the ax outside, couldn’t she? It had to be her imagination.
“. . . loved.”
Jane had a look of resolve on her face that told Blue everything she needed to know.
“Yeah,” Blue lied. “Me too.”
“We should go help them.”
“Yeah. We should. I’m just . . . I need the bathroom. I’ll be right there.”
Jane walked through to the kitchen and out the door, leaving Blue alone.
This was it. This was the moment. Dawn was spreading over the tops of the trees, blue to orange. Now, now, now.
The window in the bathroom was small and faced the back of the house, where the others were gathered, and Jane had just gone
out the kitchen door. Blue went to the front bedroom, the one that had a broken screen that let in mountain air and the bugs.
She popped it out and slid one leg out, then the other, lowering herself the few feet down, her bare feet hitting the dirt.
She considered putting the screen back, but that would take time and maybe make noise. They would know she was gone soon enough.
She put it on the ground and took long, creeping lunges away from the house.
“What are you doing, Blue?”
Sweet Jane was standing at the window, whispering.
“Peeing,” Blue whispered back. “Getting air and peeing.”
“By going out the window? Come back inside.”
“I am,” Blue said. “Coming.”
“Really?”
A pleading look. Jane had seen it—she knew.
Blue turned and ran. It was either an act of mercy or a moment of confusion, but Sweet Jane waited a full five seconds before
screaming for Dean and the others. It was enough.
Blue tore through the night, running like she did in dreams, where her feet didn’t feel like they touched the ground. The
woods and rocks were brutal on her feet, the ground uneven, the underground endless, but she kept going. She skidded down
to the crag where she had hidden the bag. As quietly as she could, with gagging breath and shaking hands, she moved the sticks
and leaves aside and pressed herself into the space. She pulled handfuls of leaves back toward her and tucked her head down.
Blue could hear them all around her—the voices of her friends—calling her name. But the dark mountain wrapped itself around
her like a cloak.
Dean’s voice rang out.
“Why are you running, Blue?” he said into the night. “We’ll take care of you. Don’t run.”
Blue bit down on her fist until she drew blood.
She was cold. She was a stone.
“Come out, Blue,” he called, his voice kind. “Come out. We love you. Come out.”
He seemed to know she was there, even though to all appearances she had gone. He knew. He could feel her, could smell her.
For several minutes, she heard nothing at all but the birds starting to twitter at the dawn. It would be light soon, and they would be back out, looking for her again.
Blue began to uncoil herself, ever so slowly. She listened to every part of the world around her. The sound of every leaf,
every puff of wind, every bird. She reached out her senses and felt nothing around her, but fully expected to put her head
over the edge of the log and see Dean there, standing akimbo.
Maybe she welcomed it at that point. She was very tired. She had to look and see if the coast was clear. No one was standing
over her.
She elbow-crawled, inch by inch, to a spot where she could survey the house. She was a worm, gently pressing back the earth
with her toes. Dean was over at the van, working at something under the hood. The others were loading up the van with bags,
armloads of clothes, the record player—most of their things. They were getting out. All the girls got in, and Denver got behind
the wheel. Dean stood at the driver’s side window, speaking to Denver. He did not get in the van.
Dean saw them off with a wave, then surveyed the woods and the view, looking right toward where she was hiding. Blue almost
felt like he was looking at her. He went inside and emerged some minutes later with a backpack. Then he walked down the drive
and away from the house of death.