When They Fade (20 page)

They continue to drive.

After a few turns, Tatum realizes they're heading toward Frog Road. Levi has a heavy foot; they're going at least twenty over the speed limit. There's always the possibility that a police officer might pull them over. Tatum isn't being hopeful. With her luck, the cop would just smile and wave as they pass by.

The houses grow more infrequent as they head out of town. Levi turns a corner much too fast. Scott's semiconscious body is pushed against Tatum, and blood splashes against her shirt. She grabs more tissue, wondering how much fluid someone can lose before they simply bleed to death. The backseat has a large dark stain beneath Scott's head, but somehow she doesn't think Levi is too concerned about his upholstery. Maybe the SUV is stolen. She doesn't remember Levi having a car.

If they kill them, the SUV will be evidence. Tatum carefully yanks at the silver chain around her neck and breaks the clasp. She lowers it down on the floor without the others noticing. There. Now if something does happen, the police will know for sure that Tatum was there. The others are leaving evidence all over the place. No one is wearing gloves or trying to cover their tracks.

They're now on Frog Road. The houses are gone, replaced by trees and fields. The sidewalks are gone too; if Tatum were to jump from the SUV, she'd land in the soft ditch. But at the speed they're going, she'd more than likely break something. Levi would just pull over, and they'd drag her back inside. Even if she were to get free, there's no way she could take Scott with her. Considering Tatum is the only reason Scott is here, she can't leave him.

Tatum decides it's best to wait till they get where they're going. Even though her imagination keeps picturing herself dead in a gutter or buried in a shallow grave, she pushes the thoughts away. No matter how intense the situation is, she still wants to believe that Claudette isn't the type who will go that far.

“Get out.”

They've arrived.

They drove past the train bridge, past the place where Tatum almost got her first kiss from Scott. A mile or so later, Levi slows the SUV down and pulls over onto a private dirt road. They drive farther through the trees until they come to a field.

Off to the side is a dilapidated barn. Once it probably stood in the middle of a field, but trees and undergrowth have pushed their way around it, slowly reclaiming the building, one bush at a time. Red paint peels off the outer walls. The doors are crooked and slightly off their hinges. A tree has grown its way through the termite-damaged wood. Green leaves stick out of a hole in the rafters. The building looks like it's been around forever.

Tatum recognizes it instantly from the newspaper clippings Scott got from his grandmother.

This is where Molly died.

How does Claudette even know about this place? As far as Tatum knows, Claudette's experiences with Frog Road are limited. Tatum never told her about the times she drives down here. And she doesn't think she's ever been followed. The traffic is so nonexistent, she'd have seen if there were other cars behind her. With her paranoia mounting, she's spent a great deal of time watching her back in the past few months. Were Graham and Levi out scouting places to party and they found the barn? Are they aware of the murder? Does Claudette somehow know about Tatum's relationship with Molly? Maybe she found a way to hack Tatum's computer and look at her browser history. She found all the ghost stuff and put two and two together. This can't be random, can it?

A multitude of questions slip and slide around her brain, each more ridiculous and unlikely than the next, and before she knows it, Graham and Claudette are out of the SUV and opening the back doors. There might have been a short window there where Tatum could have jumped from the car and run for the bushes. She curses silently, wishing she'd been smarter and paid more attention to her limited chances to get free.

Claudette is losing patience. She reaches in to grab Tatum, but Tatum swats her away. If she's going to get out, she'll do it on her own. She's lost enough hair already. She checks Scott one more time. The bleeding seems to have stopped for now, but his face is completely drained of color. His eyes are open, but dazed. He seems to be staring at the spot right in front of his nose. She's still not sure he's conscious.

“Scott?”

“Now!” Claudette hisses.

As Tatum climbs out, she hears the roar of an engine. Hope floods through her, but it's quickly diminished when she recognizes the car pulling up behind them. Juniper is at the wheel, and there are a few others with her. Kids from school who used to be her friends but have long since sided with Claudette. Girls who like to wear red lipstick. Guys who play football with Graham.

“We're having a party,” Claudette says. “You're the guest of honor. Time to have some fun.”

Then she pulls her arm back and slams her fist right into Tatum's nose. Stars explode around her, her legs turn to rubber, and Tatum finds herself falling. Her head hits the ground, and she barely has time to recognize the shoe as it makes contact with the side of her face.

Things get hazy after that. Tatum can't seem to gain control of her senses. Thoughts are foggy, and thinking takes too much effort. Someone picks her up by her arms and drags her away from the cars. She can hear Claudette and Juniper laughing, but they seem far away. Voices are muffled, and she can only pick out words in the conversation.

The smell of smoke brings her back. Opening her eyes, she can see that someone has started a bonfire. One of the guys from school is tossing firewood into the flames. She knows this guy. He sits next to her in English class. He borrowed her notes a few weeks ago. And the girl behind him used to come over to Tatum's house when they were younger. They played Barbies together.

Slowly the fog lifts, and Tatum is able to process her surroundings. There have got to be at least forty or fifty kids standing around. Claudette must have invited the whole damn school. Some of them are drinking beers and chatting with each other. Juniper lights a cigarette and flicks ashes into an empty Coke can. She's chatting to Claudette about the biology test they took last week. She apparently failed it.

Tatum wants to look for Scott, but moving too much will only make them notice. It's better that everyone still think she's unconscious. Somehow she gets the feeling they're waiting until she wakes up. Then the party will really begin.

Tatum starts to take inventory of her wounds. Her nose hurts. Horribly. Claudette must have broken it. Wetness settles at the base of her septum, clogging her sinuses and giving her a strong urge to sniffle or sneeze. The pain has traveled up her entire face to settle in at her temples. Her stomach churns nervously. There are dried tears itching at her eyelids, but Tatum doesn't dare scratch them away. A branch is poking her in the side, making her want to shift, but even the slightest movement might give her away. Better to play possum for now.

She needs to get to Scott's phone and try to call for help. But that's impossible; she has no idea if Scott is lying behind her or if they dragged him into the barn. He could be bleeding to death inside the SUV for all she knows. But the phone is her lifeline, the only way she can let the outside world know where she is. Just as when Molly died decades ago, this barn is not going to be the first place the police check when her parents finally get around to calling in a missing-person report.

And that could take days. Isn't there something about teenagers? That parents can't officially consider them missing until after forty-eight hours? Will they just think she ran away? Oh God, what if Dad refuses to go looking for her? Maybe he'll be secretly happy she's gone and consider it a blessing in disguise.

The phone.

Tatum scans the crowd. It's getting darker. The sun has almost sunk into the hills now. Soon it'll be full-blown night. Good. Maybe a farmer will see the fire and come investigate.

All this hope is useless. There are too many variables, too many ways things can go wrong.

She's got to do something and do it soon. She can't just sit still and wait until it's too late.

Turning as slowly as she dares, she closes her eyes, trying to make it look like she's just rolling over in her unconscious state. Tatum counts to twenty before opening her eyes a crack.

Scott lies on the other side of the fire. His back is to her, and he's not moving.

“Wakey, wakey!”

Hands reach down and tighten on Tatum's shoulders. Graham's face appears, inches away from her own. Tatum shrinks back.

“Finally!” Claudette comes bouncing over. Shadows dance across her face, making her smile look grotesque. She's grinning from ear to ear. But not in a happy way. More of an
I'm going to tear the skin off your back with my bare fingers
sort of way. Tatum closes her eyes before Claudette decides to poke them out with a stick. Claudette nudges Tatum's side with her foot. “Come on, faker. We know you're awake.”

“Time to get this show started,” Graham says. “You're on trial, Tatum. We, the people, have decided it's time you pay for your crimes.”

“Guilty,” Juniper giggles through a mouthful of beer.

“No,” Graham says. “She's innocent until proven guilty. We have to have the trial first.”

There are several shouts as people chime in with their opinions. Claudette slaps Tatum across her face, bringing a whole new wave of pain along the bridge of her nose. This time Tatum can't keep quiet. She cries out and the crowd cheers. Someone throws a beer at her head. The can slams into her ear, sending icy fluid down the side of her neck, soaking her jacket.

“I'm the victim,” Claudette announces. “I say she's guilty.”

“And her punishment?”

“Death.”

Graham is suddenly behind her, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides. Tatum struggles hard; she won't make this easy on them. She still believes that if she can get free, she can bolt into the woods. It's dark and she's wearing her black jacket. It won't be easy to spot her, if only she can get a bit of a head start. But Claudette is putting her hands around Tatum's throat and starting to squeeze. Tatum takes a deep last breath before her air is cut off.

Somewhere in the distance, a voice calls out loudly. A voice Tatum recognizes.

“Parker!”

She's here. Molly. Tatum searches through the crowd. Some of the kids have spread out, moving toward the barn, where a commotion has begun. Tatum momentarily sees Parker as he's jumped by the boy in her English class. He goes down, but he's fighting hard.

Claudette's hands disappear from Tatum's throat, and Molly is reaching down to help Tatum up. Tatum inhales loudly, pain shooting through her nose, making her sound like she's breathing underwater.

“You're here,” Tatum whispers hoarsely.

“We have to get you out,” Molly says.

Someone tackles me and shoves me down, but I manage to throw her off. A red-haired girl tries to smash a beer can against my face, but it's empty and I barely feel it. With sharp fingernails, she tries to claw at my skin. I manage to bat her hands away before they do any serious damage.

“Welcome to the party,” she trills. She's giggling like crazy, and I can't help but think she's put away several beers. She sways unsteadily on her feet, blurred eyes studying me. “Who the hell are you? You don't go to our school.”

“I'm from out of town,” I say.

“You shouldn't be here. I think you should leave,” the girl says in that singsong voice. I dodge her claws again and push her straight into another kid. They both go down in a heap of flailing limbs.

And the cold wind pushes into me.

Parker! Just as I spin around to try and find him, he appears by my side, grabbing my arm protectively.

They're here. Remnants. It's not hard to spot them among the group of drunk teenagers. They've been waiting for Parker and me to come back. Somehow they've known that I would return to save Tatum. I wonder briefly which one is Mary, but that seems pointless. Whoever Mary is now, she's no longer the woman I once knew. She's not going to sit down with me and talk about corsets and whiskey. No, she's going to try and destroy my soul.

A Remnant appears before me, its arms stretching freakishly long, reaching out to grab my hair. Parker yanks me back, putting himself between the soul-sucking monster and me. The red-haired girl stares at me as if I've sprouted horns, and I instantly understand. She can't see the Remnants. To her, Parker and I must look like we're arguing with the night air.

I couldn't care less. Let her think I'm crazy. It might just give me the leverage I need to save Tatum.

“Parker!” I shout.

“I've got it!” he yells back, shoving his attacker against a tree, narrowly avoiding its energy as it stretches out, like semi-invisible worms trying to get free from a dead body. “Go get Tatum.”

I spot Tatum over by the fire, lying on her back. The girl with the brown curly hair is straddling her, knees pinning Tatum down. It's dark, but the fire gives off enough light for me to see that Tatum is covered in blood. I see Scott, too, crumpled to the ground, and he's not moving. I run toward them both, praying that I'm not too late.

I grab Claudette by the back of her jacket and shove her straight toward the fire. She's momentarily distracted when her pant leg starts smoking.

“They've gone crazy,” Tatum says. She tugs at my arm in a desperate attempt to get my full attention. “Claudette. She's lost her mind. She's not like this. She's not that mean.”

“Looks to me like she is,” I say, tempted to add
I told you so.

Tatum looks at me blankly. “I think she really wants to kill me. Why would she do this? She's supposed to be my friend. Friends don't do that. They don't hurt each other.”

“We've got to get you to a safe place. The Remnants, they're here. I don't know how much time I have.”

“I've put you in danger,” Tatum says. “This is all my fault.”

“Not even close,” I say. “Now come on. Let's go.”

Something inside me wants to break. Poor, trusting Tatum. Even though Claudette has shown her true colors, put her through months of torment, told a terrible lie to save her own skin, and probably a lot more…after all that pain and betrayal, Tatum still wants to believe her former friend isn't
that
bad. I get that, I really do. For two days I sat tied up in the barn, bleeding, at first begging for my life to a man I still thought would change his mind and set me free. I didn't believe Walter would really kill me either.

Sometimes it's easier to keep the faith than lose trust.

“Come on,” I say. “We've got to get you out of here.” I turn toward Scott. “What happened to him?”

“He got hit on the back of the head,” Tatum says. “I'm not sure if he's okay. He hasn't said anything since we got here.”

I see the blood shiny and sticky in his hair. His eyelashes flutter when he hears Tatum's voice. That gives me hope. If I can get them into a car, maybe she can drive straight to a hospital.

“Where's your car?”

“Not here,” Tatum says. “They brought us here.”

That's not good. Maybe if we can get to a road, we can flag someone down. I pause, looking around, trying to figure out where we are.

Then I see the barn.

I freeze.

I remember being locked in there for days, tied to the wooden post, watching my bodily fluids slowly gathering by my feet. By the end my wrists were rubbed raw, almost down to the bone, blood and skin stuck to the coarse rope that kept me tightly bound.

The barn door is open, and I stare at the blackness, half expecting to see Walter step out any second with a knife in his hand, motioning to me to come back inside.

I can't do this. Not this place. Not here.

Memories hit me like rocks.

“You know where we are.” Tatum's voice reaches my ears, but she sounds a million miles away.

“I know,” I say.

“Come on,” Tatum says. “Don't go back there. Not just yet. Stay with me.”

But the barn is mocking me. It looks different from the last time I was here. Worn down as if nature's been reclaiming it bit by bit. I'm surprised it's still intact. If I were the farmer who owned it, I would have torn it down ages ago. How could anyone continue to live beside such a monstrosity? The ghosts that haunt this place are very different from the ones at my lake.

“Molly!”

I snap back to reality as Claudette tackles me from the side. Her pant leg is singed. Her eyes are focused on mine, and I swear I can recognize the uncertainty. She's crossed the line and part of her knows it. But she's come this far; she's not going back until she's finished.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks. “This is a private party.”

I can't stop looking past Claudette's shoulder, where the barn looms over me. Tatum's voice breaks my trance, calling my name over and over like a broken record. My mind begins to clear.

“Really?” I give Claudette a strong shove and knock her off my chest. She falls back, stumbling. We both climb to our feet and the standoff begins. “That's the best you can do? You and I both know that Tatum doesn't deserve this. Any of this. She's innocent.”

Claudette frowns. “What has the bitch told you? She's lying. She's a lying bitch.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Stop, Claudette. Stay out of the darkness. You have a choice.”

Something grabs me from behind and spins me around. I'm face to nonexistent face with a Remnant. And it's wearing a corset.

“Why?” I whisper. “You knew I'd come. You've been tracking me.”

A whisper fills my ears. The creature that used to be Mary is able to talk. The spot where her mouth used to be vibrates in and out of focus. “Spirits need to stay dead.”

“I am dead.”

“You don't belong in this world, ghost.”

“I don't belong anywhere.”

The Remnant hisses. It might be laughter, though; I'm not fully sure. Energy begins to spread across its skin, moving through the air like invisible tentacles. I feel a jolt of electricity against my arm. I jerk back in pain; the touch is like silver fire.

“So now we steal your soul as a warning to those who come next.”

The energy comes at me again, wrapping tightly around my wrist. Although the pain is burning, it's cold too. Memories, mostly feelings, start to fade. All the things I've ever experienced are being erased one by one. My mind is becoming a blank slate, and something old and horrifying is taking over.

Terror flows through me. I want to resist, but I can't. There's no fighting something this powerful. I can hear Tatum screaming my name, but I can't see her. My eyes are fixated on the red barn and the horrors that were inside.

Walter.

Standing over me. A knife in his hand. Smiling with the same crazed smile I saw on Claudette just now. Steel slips into flesh so easily.

I scream.

Pain.

Something else. A person standing in front of me. He's reaching out toward me. The one who brought me to Walter.

Julian.

No. I've fought too hard and too long to keep him. He's the one thing that's given me hope over the years.

No, that's not right.

Parker.

I jerk backward, throwing the Remnant off guard. The energy around my wrist loosens, and I yank hard until I'm free.

“You're not getting me,” I say. “Not Parker, either.”

I draw my hand back and make a fist. Just the way Marcus taught me when I was little. I catch the Remnant that used to be Mary right on the bridge of the nose, and it gasps and falls backward.

The energy around my body disappears.

I wait, my fists up to protect my face the way my brother showed me all those years ago. The Remnant of Mary climbs to its feet but doesn't step forward to attack again. And although it no longer has a face, I swear it's grinning at me. I brace myself for another attack.

But instead of coming straight for me, the Remnant turns and shoves itself straight through the body of the closest unsuspecting teen. A boy with braces and bad acne stiffens as if he's been doused in icy water. He sways back and forth on his feet for a few seconds before shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear his mind. Then, without warning, he turns and punches the person next to him.

Uh-oh. That's not good.

It's almost as if the Remnants were waiting for a sign. I spin around, scanning the crowd. More Remnants step through unsuspecting teenagers. Suddenly everyone is turning against each other, and the field goes from drunkfest to crime scene.

I hear a branch crack behind me and turn in time to see the boy with braces coming toward me with his fists raised. I sidestep his advance, but he doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead he slams right into Claudette, who screams and falls backward into the fire.

I reach to grab Claudette, but Tatum beats me. She rushes bravely into the flames and pulls Claudette from the fire. Luckily, Tatum manages to get Claudette out before the inferno catches her clothing again. Claudette lies on the ground beside Scott, moaning slightly.

Parker. I have to find him. I scan the crowd, but all hell seems to have broken loose. The group of teenagers has turned chaotic. They're no longer standing around. They're beating the crap out of each other instead. Whatever the Remnants have done, it's made them hostile. But in the middle of their confusion, they've temporarily forgotten about Tatum.

However, Claudette is attempting to finish things. There's no thanks to Tatum for pulling her out of the fire. My words haven't gotten through her thick skull. She grabs Tatum by the hair and drags her toward the few teens who aren't fighting each other.

“What are you idiots doing?” she screams at them. “We have a trial to finish.”

“But…” The red-haired girl stares at me. Whatever beer buzz she had is now gone. She's not so sure now that they should continue. Not when everyone seems determined to beat each other to death. A murmur goes through the crowd. A few of the teens step backward. This no longer feels like a game to them.

“This isn't over until I say it's over!” Claudette screams.

If I had a few minutes, I could talk to Claudette and the others. I'm certain I could convince them to stop everything. The party is out of control. It's time to go home.

But time is not on my side. Not when the Remnants are closing in. They have their own game to finish. And, Lord help me, I don't think I'm strong enough to fight them off again. Struggling with the one Remnant was by far the hardest thing I've had to do since I died. I barely managed to get free. There's no way I'll be able to do that again, especially if they all jump me at once.

“Parker!”

“Molly.” Parker brushes up against me. He's got something heavy in his hands. A baseball bat. He throws a wild swing at the closest Remnant, sending it flying back to the ground, where the dirt begins to swallow it up.

“Get them down!” Parker yells. “They can't seem to get back up. It's the only chance.”

Easy for him to say when he's holding a bat.

“Tatum,” I say. “We need to work together. Parker and I can hold them off. You've got to get Scott to a car.”

“We need keys. I think Levi has them.” She reaches down and tries to get Scott to his feet. Parker positions himself between the Remnants and the fire. He holds up the baseball bat, swinging whenever one of them gets too close.

“There are too many of them!” Parker yells. Every time he knocks a Remnant back, two more get in closer for the kill. He kicks at one and it grabs hold of his foot. That same strange blurred energy whips around his leg, pulling him off balance.

“Parker!”

I rush toward him, trying to pull him back from the swarming Remnants. They're closing in quickly now that they've got their opening. The baseball bat is torn from his hand as they bring him down. Hands wriggle around his neck. The skin around his mouth begins to blur.

I can't pull him back. The Remnants have him.

“You can fight it!” I yell at him. “Don't let them take away your memories.”

A hand tries to snake around my wrist. I shake it away, determined to show Parker that he has the power to get free. I start pulling Remnants away from him, shoving them aside like they're weaklings.

“How?” Parker says. He's weak. I can hear it in his voice. Soon he'll be looking up at me and no longer recognizing my face.

“Fight it,” I say again. “Look at me, Parker. Don't look away. You are strong enough to beat this.” I shove one of them away, but not before it gets hold of the baseball bat. The Remnant holds it triumphantly above its head.