The Collection

the other way and ran by.

There was something inside the shack, though.

I could feel it.

And I thought I heard it when I ran by.

I slowed down when I was out of breath, a good ways from the shack. It was hidden way back behind the trees now, so I didn't have nothing to worry about. The shack was about halfway to the bad place, I knew, maybe a little less, but the second half of the trip was a lot tougher and took a lot longer. The path ended a little ways up ahead, I remem­bered, and I'd have to find the rest of the way myself.

No path led to the bad place.

Sure enough, the path just sort of petered out. It got smaller and smaller and harder to see and after a while I re­alized it had ended some ways back and I hadn't noticed.

I was on my own.

It was real dark here and it kept getting darker the deeper I went into the woods. I saw shadows of things moving through the trees out of the corners of my eyes, but I ignored them and pretended they wasn't there. I said the Prayer to myself.

I didn't really know where I was going but I knew I was headed in the right direction. Tons of moss was hanging from the tops of the trees and it kept brushing my face and my blouse as I went past. I climbed over old dead logs and through thickets of sticker bushes. I started getting hungry, and I pulled out one of the sandwiches Momma made for me. I didn't sit down and eat, though. I kept walking.

Finally, I came to the ruins and I knew I was getting close.

I remember Momma used to scare us when we was little by telling us that she'd take us out to the ruins and leave us there if we didn't behave, but I'm the only person I know that's actually seen them. They used to be part of an old stone fort during the war. A bunch of soldiers was stationed there to protect the county, but something happened to all the soldiers. All kinds of government people came down to check on the fort afterwards, but none of them could figure out what happened.

The people around here knew what happened, though.

They built the fort too close to the bad place.

Now the ruins was just old piles of stone block and pieces of wall with plants and ivy growing all over them. A few buildings were still left, but I got the same feeling from them that I got from the shack and I just ran by.

After the ruins, the trees started to grow weird and the di­rections got all lost again. I was going south, then all of a sudden I was going west and I hadn't even changed my course. The trees became all gnarly and twisted, and the moss started to grow into shapes, strange shapes that I knew what they were but I didn't want to admit it.

It got even darker.

And then I was there.

The bad place looked just like I remembered it. The leaves of the trees was all black and brown and they twisted together to make a roof over the clearing and completely block out the sky. It was always night there. On the sides, small trees grew in between the big trees and made a solid wall except for the entrance where I was coming in. The middle of the clearing was covered with bones and skulls and the teeth of rats, all lain out in little rows, like crops. Dead possum skeletons hung from frayed old ropes in the trees, and they was swinging but there wasn't no breeze.

Nothing grew in the center of the clearing. It was all dust. Even the plants was afraid to grow there.

In the very center was the open grave.

I swallowed hard and took Momma's Bible out of my sack. I was scared, even more scared than I'd been with Daddy, and all of a sudden I wanted to run, to run back home to Momma. The noises at night, the voices and pounding, didn't seem so bad now. Not compared to this. I could live with them.

But I couldn't run. I had to go through the ritual.

I walked slowly into the middle of the clearing toward the open grave, holding tight to my Bible. The little white wood cross at the head of the grave was tilted and almost falling over. I kept my eyes on that and didn't look into the hole. Finally, I reached the grave and stood at its foot, trying to calm down. My heart was pounding a mile a minute and I couldn't hardly get no breath.

I stood like that for a few minutes, staring at the cross, trying to be brave. And then I looked into the hole.

Robert lay on the bottom. His skin was pure white and glowing and his face was smooth and perfect and I couldn't tell where Momma'd shot him. He was holding his hands up in the air toward me and they was moving a little, twirling in strange little circles.

Then his eyes jerked open and he smiled. His eyes was pure red and evil and I started to shake. 'Robert Paul's come home,' he said. 'Robert Paul's come home again.' It was all he said. It was all he could say.

His voice was just a whisper.

I reached around to my sack and took out the page with the Words written on it. The grave was deep, I was thinking. It was deeper than last time. The sides went down maybe ten feet to Robert at the bottom. I put the Words on the Bible. 'Lord pro­tect me in this ritual,' I read. 'Keep me safe from harm. See my motives not my actions. Keep me safe from harm. Give this tortured soul his rest. Keep me safe from harm. Guide me through this and preserve me. Keep me safe from harm. Amen.'

I folded the paper and put the Words into the Bible.

At the bottom of the grave Robert was moving even more now. His head was rolling from side to side and his arms was still twirling in the air and he was grinning even worse. I could see all of his teeth. They was glowing.

I took a deep breath, said the Prayer, held the Bible to my chest, and jumped into the open grave.

I fell, fell and landed with a soft thud on Robert's body. His grin got bigger and his eyes got redder and I could see them right next to my face.

He started laughing and his voice changed.

He was no longer Robert.

And he took me.

I woke up by the ruins. My sack was gone and the Bible was gone and my clothes was all torn up and half hanging off me. I still felt kind of dopey or sleepy or whatever it was, but I knew I had to get out of the woods before dark. I didn't know what time it was so I just started running. I ran past the ruins and somehow found the path again.

Something was standing in the doorway of the shack when I ran by but I didn't look at it. I kept running.

It was broad daylight when I came out of the woods. The clouds had all burnt off and the sun was shining. Everything was okay. Momma was waiting for me and she ran up and hugged me as I came down the path. I could see she was cry­ing. 'You went through the ritual?' she asked.

I nodded and told her I did.

She led me back to the house where I slept for two full days.

Two weeks later my belly started growing.

It was just a little bit at first. But a month later it was ob­vious.

People didn't bother me none about it though. Folks around here understand about the bad place. A lot of women around here've got pregnant the same way when they was my age. No one talked to me about it or paid me no never mind.

Two months later I was ready to give birth.

Momma took me to Mrs. Caffrey's. She didn't tell none of the other kids about it, she just said that we was going into town for the day and for Junior to keep an eye on every­one else and not let them leave the house.

It was just like before. The thing was all slimy and pink and wormy. It made horrible squawking noises and tried to claw up Mrs. Caffrey as she held it.

It had Robert's face.

'Do you want to see it first?' Mrs. Caffrey asked me.

I shook my head. I could see it good enough as it was, and I didn't want to see no more of it. I sure didn't want to touch it.

'I'll take it outside then.'