Authors: Sara V. Zook
My mind shifted to Emry again. The whole thing angered me. They thought he was pure evil, and I
thought he was pure heaven. I wondered when I’d be able to see him again. It was too painful to even
consider that it would be never. It was something I just wouldn’t allow myself to accept. Things
couldn’t end where they had between us. Life wasn’t that cruel. Was it? Everything else was falling
apart around me. Surely Emry was the only solid thing I had left to grasp onto. He was the only thing I
had going for me now, my only sense of belonging, my escape from the bitter reality of realizing that
nothing else in this world had been real up until now. The aching returned in my heart. It hurt so badly
I was struggling to breathe. Whatever it took, I had to find something out tonight or the chance might
be lost forever, the chance for Emry to be freed from those bars that locked him inside, away from the
rest of the world, and also from me.
I saw the first traces of headlights coming back down the driveway. Buck had changed quickly.
Perhaps he was running late. Without stopping, his vehicle pulled out onto the road and drove away in
the opposite direction from where I was. I began to panic slightly as my mind raced with what I
should do. I started to count slowly in my mind. How many seconds should I let pass before pulling
out behind him? I had to keep some sort of distance or he would know something was up. No one
would be on the roads tonight with all the snow that had just accumulated on the ground. But then I
thought I should probably just go for it right now. I couldn’t risk the chance of him getting too far
ahead where I couldn’t see him turning off and not be able to know where he went.
My foot pressed down on the accelerator. I felt the snow underneath my tires as I pushed harder on
it and began to slide slightly. I made it out to the road, relieved I hadn’t gotten stuck, and attempted to
be alert and cautious, although the aching along with the exhaustion that I was feeling was a weary
combination.
Where was Buck? I couldn’t see him at all, but then I realized that I could just follow his car tracks.
This wasn’t going to be as difficult as I thought, and it was more discrete this way as Buck couldn’t
see a car behind him at all. I’d raise no suspicion.
I followed the tracks for what seemed like endless miles as the roads were very slippery, and I
tried to be cautious so I wouldn’t end up in the ditch. I hadn’t seen any other cars on the road at all. It
was almost 11:00 p.m. before Buck’s tire tracks darted off to a section toward the outskirts of Seneca.
I began driving down a familiar back road. It led directly toward Mrs. Anderson’s house. It was the
same road that Buck had gotten the flat tire on the day we caught my father with Mrs. Anderson on her
front porch. I felt my heart speed up.
Of course this is where they would meet
, I thought. It shouldn’t
be that much of a surprise. Her house was the perfect location, out of the way and private. She lived
alone. Perhaps even her sons had been let in on what was happening. It was just so nerve racking to
be here again. I didn’t like the feeling this place gave me.
I remembered there was another lane just before Mrs. Anderson’s main driveway. I assumed it had
been created for another access for farm equipment to get up to the fields. I pulled my car into that
lane. It had a little hill to it as I reached the top, and then I felt my tires sliding as I began to go
backwards down the hill. I pressed the brake, and the back end of the car fishtailed to the side of the
lane. I pulled the emergency brake. The car lurched to a sideways stop. I took a deep breath and
decided against trying to start over again at the bottom of the lane, afraid I’d get myself stuck for sure.
At least this way I was fairly certain I could get back out of here.
I began piling on layers of clothes and winter garments, finishing off with a heavy pair of gloves, a
thick wool hat and a fuzzy warm scarf. I twisted it around the back of my head and tied it in a gigantic
knot, securing it into place. I was wearing almost all dark-colored clothes. I felt around under my seat
for the flashlight that my father had insisted I keep in my car, grateful that it was still there. I turned it
on. It worked. I shoved it in the front of my coat pocket and my keys on the other side.
Well, are you ready to do whatever it is you’re going to do tonight?
I asked myself. I pictured
Emry’s face in my mind again, his arms around me as he had been in my dream. I let the painful
emotion that followed come on for a moment before jumping out of the car and quietly shutting the
door behind me.
The night was so serene without any wind that it was eerie. There was always wind in Seneca. I
could even hear my footsteps crunching into the old snow underneath the new, the old frozen solid. I
cut through the little patch of woods toward Mrs. Anderson’s house. I didn’t even need to use my
flashlight. The moon provided enough light to see what was in front of me.
I rounded the corner of the driveway and crossed over onto the piece of land in front of her house
instead of walking any farther down the actual driveway. I found an old, broken down tractor that had
been rusting away for years sitting a few yards away and ducked down beside one of its massive
tires, knowing that the house was directly in front of me now. I got down on all fours and stretched my
neck out far enough to get a good look at what was going on inside the house. Not a single light was
on. It sat in front of me still and dark. No one was there? My thoughts began to swirl. Had I missed
where Buck’s tracks had gone? No, I was certain he pulled in here. And there had been fresh tire
tracks going to the lane that I had walked across.
I stood. There were no cars parked in front of the house either. I clenched my fists inside the
gloves. I tried to think of my next move. My eyes searched all around the house as I walked up to it
now, only feet away from the front porch. I headed to the side of the house to where the tracks were. I
began to walk along them, my feet leaving prints where the lines were. It led to the back of the house
and then up another small hill toward the woods. Buck had driven back here and then into the woods.
My thighs burned from the vigorous exercise of climbing the hill in the deep snow along with the
layers of clothing weighing me down. I hoped I wasn’t going to have to run away from anyone tonight.
I would surely lose the battle if that were the case at the speed I was going now.
I was huffing and puffing, my lungs burning from the cold inhalations when I finally reached the top
of the hill and walked forward through the woods to a clearing. I could now hear plenty of noise,
people yelling and others clapping their hands together. A haze of smoke lifted up into the clear,
starry sky of the winter night as a large bonfire blazed in the middle of the field. A large group of
people were gathered around it, their backs to me as they all faced something, someone. I stared in
astonishment at the scene before me. What were they doing out here in the middle of the night
shouting, and it sounded like almost chanting, at each other? And then my eyes caught sight of
something else, something shiny above my head. Hanging from the barren, icy tree branches were
large pieces of metal that twinkled as they turned and mirrored the reflection of the fire. They were
round and had two diagonal lines going through them. They were everywhere. I had no idea what kind
of symbol it was, but they made a circle around the field, around the group of people standing in the
opening of the field.
I realized suddenly then that I was exposed. The trees I was positioned behind were thin, and the
moon was too bright along with the fire that I couldn’t stand here forever and not expect to be seen. I
quickly searched for a place to hide. I scanned through the trees in fear, praying that there was
somewhere I could hide after making it this far.
Through the trees to my left, I caught sight of a rock large enough that I thought I could stoop behind.
I looked back to the group of people in the clearing. They seemed to be focused on whatever was
going on in front of them. I made a mad dash for it, not giving it a second thought. It was now or never.
My boots made loud noises with every step as I crunched snow and broke icy branches and twigs
beneath my feet. I didn’t bother looking over to see if anyone was watching. I couldn’t. My lungs felt
like they were going to explode when I finally reached the rock and pressed my back against it, trying
to catch my breath and calm down as I allowed myself to slide down it and just sit there for a moment.
I could hear the voices chanting in unison now, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. When I
decided to peek out from behind the rock, I expected someone to be standing there looking back at me.
There was no one there. I had made it safely, unnoticed.
The group of people were now circling the bonfire, their arms held high in the air as it seemed they
were trying to make their voices carry into the sky. What were they doing?
Singing?
I thought. Was
that a hymn I recognized? I strained my ears to try to catch the words, but they were so loud it was as
if their voices mumbled together.
“Silence, everyone!” I heard someone yell out clearly above the rest of them. They all stopped
moving at once and edged away from the fire, their backs still facing me as someone came down the
middle of the group, coming closer to the fire. It was a woman. She was bundled up in just as many
layers of winter clothing as I had, but sticking out from the hood overtop of her head was a white lace
shawl. Mrs. Anderson.
“I would like to thank everyone for coming on this cold winter’s night!” she yelled out, her arms
held toward the sky as she did so. “I would like to thank Mr. Barnabas for starting out the ritual so
powerfully!”
Mr. Barnabas. I recognized the name right away. It was an older gentleman that went to our church.
I felt my stomach getting sicker by the minute as I listened to her words. Ritual, power. It
was
a
modern day witch hunt, only it was as if they were the ones using black magic here. My eyes scanned
the men as I searched for my father, but they were all so close in height and all wearing heavy coats
and hats. It was impossible to single him out from the rest of the group.
“All of you have been handpicked to save our beloved Seneca, and you were called here tonight to
replenish the sanctity of the ritual!” Mrs. Anderson then shouted something out that I couldn’t
understand. Everyone else seemed to understand what she had said, and they all raised their arms up
high along with her.
“We have to rid ourselves of these dark enemies!” Mrs. Anderson said. “This one!” She pointed to
the one in the man’s right hand. “Lucas Banesberry, he was powerful in his works. But this one,” she
yelled out while pointing to the other circle on the wooden pole. “Emry Logan, he is even more
dangerous than Lucas Banesberry. He possesses an even greater power and even more intelligence.
It’s something I’ve never seen before. We must make sure, my friends, that he never escapes or a great
evil will come over all of us, and we shall all be doomed.” All of the people shouted in agreement.
“You see, I believe he knows not the extent of the dark power within him. We mustn’t give him
opportunity to explore it. We must make sure he is locked up behind bars forever, never to be free!”
Another metal ornament turned slightly above my head, and I looked up at it curiously as it
revolved. I was unnerved and frightened. Mrs. Anderson was crazy. It was as if she had all of these
people under some sort of spell of her own. These were respectable, probably most of them
Christian, men who were out here in the middle of the woods shouting back at some crazy, old woman
who lifted her arms to the sky and hung weird metal objects from the trees. These were her
followers
.
My stomach began to churn. I knew I shouldn’t be here. I was putting myself in grave danger. If I were
to be seen, what would she have them do to me? Kill me? I wouldn’t put it past her at this point. My
mother said she knew things. Did she have some sort of strength as well? She was making these
people hate Emry, but for what reason exactly? There had to be a motive.
I felt a chill go up my spine. I figured that even if this had been the middle of summer, I probably
still would be getting chills just by being here. Mrs. Anderson had a strong influence over this group.
Even my father was under her spell. They should be throwing her behind bars for her practice of
witchcraft.
“Only you can seek out the evil and destroy it! Be courageous, my friends! You can’t let Emry
Logan out! Never let him out of the cage he so rightly deserves to rot in for the rest of his life!” Mrs.
Anderson held her arms upwards to the sky again. Everyone repeated the action in the same fashion as
her. “Drink up, my friends!” She pulled something out from within her coat and outstretched her arm
to the fire. “Drink, be filled with peace, and go!”