killed Abe. Who killed Cal. Griggs, who lies fifteen feet away, his jacket slightly smoking but otherwise looking intact. Bullets for the rifle he’s carrying spill out of a pocket where the zipper has broken. I take a step toward him and realize how easy it would be to bury the knife in his throat, to slice his neck from ear to ear until it opens like a bloody red mouth. It would be so very easy to watch his eyes flash open as he gurgles, blood bubbles popping out his lips, painting his face in a spray of crimson mist.
It would be so easy, I think as I find myself standing above him. His skin has pinked slightly, his hat knocked off his head. His hair is plastered wet against his skull. His eyes are closed. There’s a small piece of shrapnel sticking out of his right thigh, blood leaking slowly, soaking his pants. But still he breathes. His life is not threatened by injury. He’s alive. He doesn’t deserve to be. He deserves pain, agonizing pain. He deserves death in all its forms. I can do this. I can avenge the men I love and have lost. I stand above him and raise Estelle’s gift high above my head, ready to bring it down on him again and again and again. Once he is gone, this nightmare will be over and I just need to do it. Do it!
As I raise the knife as high as I can, I hesitate.
You are not the judge, my father whispers.
You are not the jury, Abe murmurs.
You are not the executioner, Cal says, and it’s so loud he could be standing right
next to me. A tear slides down my cheek. You are the protector. You are a guardian.
It’s time to go home, Benji. It’s time to—
A hand reaches out and seizes my leg.
I look down. Griggs is awake and snarling up at me. I try to step back, but he has
a vise grip on my ankle. “I’ll kill you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
Run!
I jerk my leg away, using my good leg to kick him upside the head. He howls as he rolls away from me… directly toward the hunting rifle he used to kill Cal. He lands on top of it, and I’m already taking off toward the forest. I can still hear him screaming as I jump down the embankment, rolling as I land to avoid putting all the weight on my ankle.
I’m sorry, Abe, I think as I reach him and run right past. I’m so sorry.
There’s a loud crack behind me that can’t be anything but gunfire, and a tree branch above me explodes. I hear Griggs scream after me. I glance over my shoulder.
Sheriff George Griggs tears after me, the rifle in his hands.
mile marker seventy-seven
The rain continues to fall as Griggs chases me through the darkening woods.
Branches slap against me, and I raise my arms to protect my face. Thin cuts form when the wood slaps against my skin. The blood from my damaged wrist has soaked through the strip of shirt I used to tie it off. My ankle and foot are going numb. But still I run.
I know where I’m heading. I run toward the place where much of my life ended, and much of it began again. I run there only because I don’t know where else to run. My mind is like a static screen, snowy white and almost incapable of broadcasting. I’m not following logical thought. I’m following my heart, and it’s leading me to the river.
I can hear Griggs crashing through the underbrush behind me, booming steps punctuated by shouts and screams. He’s going to kill me, he bellows. He’s going to kill me like he did my father. He’s going to hold me underwater until I stop kicking and my skin turns blue. He’s going to cut off my head and mail it to my mother and he’s going to laugh, he roars after me. He’s going to watch the look on her face and he’s going to just laugh.
I zigzag around a tree just as he fires the rifle again. The bullet smashes into another tree just ahead, bark flying in the air, pitch leaking like black oil. Like the tree is bleeding after getting shot. He swears behind me and starts to move again.
There are times when I’m so far ahead of him I can barely hear him behind me. These