Dirty Secrets

Part 79

Jack drove the familiar route out of town without uttering a word, apparently, deep in thought, 

In the passenger seat, Lyla watched the road with vacant eyes, her sense of dread building with each mile they traveled. She knew that they weren't fully prepared for this mission. There remained too many variables, too many unanswered questions. But it was time to act and she was grateful that Jack had her back. If she were being totally honest with herself and exceedingly optimistic, she'd put the odds of successfully completing their mission at fifty percent. Without Jack's help, the odds were too low to calculate. 

"So why now?" He broke the silence, snapping her out of her trance.

"You said you wanted to do this," Lyla replied. "I mean when you told me about what he did to your cat."

"I know. But right now? Right this minute?"

"Darcy." The mention of her endangered best friend's name sent a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes.

He looked as though he needed to speak but changed his mind.

"When somebody sees Keenan," she managed. "Something bad is gonna happen, right?"

"She saw him?" he asked.

Lyla nodded. "Leaving the dance last night. She saw him in the parking lot."

"She's sure it was him?"

Lyla answered with a stinging look then said, "I saw him yesterday when I went for a run. He said, "She's next." I was hoping he didn't mean Darcy."

"Damn."

She didn't tell Jack that the news had broken her, cracked her open like an egg, spilling everything. She'd shared their secret with Darcy, essentially, exchanging one dark secret for another.

"So what if it's my dad next?" she said. "Or your mom?" She nearly choked on her words, her heart aching. "You were right when you said this shit needs to stop. Right now."

With her sleeve, Lyla intercepted a tear rolling down her cheek then turned toward the window. Driven by emotion, she'd abandoned reason long ago. It seemed like a useless weapon to wield against the supernatural. They'd figure out the logistics once they arrived at their destination. They'd have to.

Jack reached for the radio. Anything to fill the protracted silence. But music immediately felt inappropriate, so he turned it off. 

"Thanks," she said barely louder than a whisper.

The last traces of the urban environment gradually transitioned into stretches of sloping pastures where bales of hay stippled the fields like enormous grassy cinnamon rolls.

By the time the busy four-lane highway had tapered into a freshly-paved two-lane road, the volume of traffic had diminished significantly. An impatient guy in a crusty pickup truck roaring past was the only other driver they'd seen for miles.

The intense quiet was unbearable so she asked, "So, how'd you get out of doing... whatever you were doing?"

"I said I had to go."

"Wasn't she mad?"

"She's always mad when she doesn't get her way."

Lyla glanced at him with a fleeting smile surprised by his candid response. "And what about your shoulder?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Does it hurt?"

"I took a bunch of anti." He stopped himself then continued carefully. "Anti-inflammatories," he said with a self-satisfied smile. "It's all good."

That smile. Even with Jack's beard concealing his dimples, his smile still had the power to raise Lyla's body temperature. For emotional health reasons, she'd been suppressing her desires but truth be told, she wasn't immune from his allure.

"I found the camera or trail cam or whatever it's called," she said. "At the top of that hill."

"How?"

"Watching the drone footage. The camera's strapped to a tree."

"Inside the fence?" he asked.

"No, it's outside."

"So we got that going for us," he said. "When we get there, first thing we do is take out that camera."

"Yep." Lyla agreed. 

She and Jack had the prerogative of aborting the mission at any time, but Lyla felt an obligation, a moral imperative to complete the objective. She would never submit to wearing the ring, surrendering to an eternity of existence in a realm of the undead to be used in any way that Keenan desired. No, that was not an option worthy of the slightest consideration. And so it had come to this. One way or another, this had to end.

The road narrowed as it ascended, mountains rising to the left, a steep hill sharply angling down to the right. Towering trees formed an umbrella over the skinny, two-lane roadway. When they emerged onto a section of sunbaked crumbling asphalt, she noticed the orange traffic cones not far ahead.

"We're almost there," she said.

"I remember this," Jack replied, steering cautiously around the cones.

A few short miles later, Lyla's heart pounded when she recognized the gravel path snaking its way up the rocky ridge toward the desolate graveyard.

At the base of the hill, Jack stopped the car. "So, here we are," he said. "It's gonna be like--"

"Ten kinds of hell," she replied, expecting that the prospects for a triumphant outcome were bleak.

He let out a protracted breath, then carefully navigated his vehicle onto the treacherous path. Jack inched his car up the precarious suggestion of a road, the vehicle rocking heavily and squeaking its disapproval. When the car took a heavy dip and its chassis scraped the craggy surface Jack said, "This is as far as I can push it." He forcefully applied the emergency brake to prevent the vehicle from rolling backward down the sheer incline.

Through the windshield, she looked out at the long, rugged climb to the summit. Her head swam, her mouth dried.

"Ready?" he asked.

The best she could do was nod in response. He popped the trunk.

Lyla struggled out of her seat, stumbled along the fender down to the rear of the car, then grabbed the shovels out of the trunk. She clumsily tried to include the pick in her cargo but couldn't efficiently bundle it with the shovels.

"Leave it," said Jack. 

"I'll trade you the gas can for the pick," she suggested.

"Deal." He gestured toward the top of the hill. "Can you take down the camera while I get the rest of this stuff?"

Before she could respond, they were ambushed by a gale-force wind. She buried her eyes in her forearm while being bombarded by twigs, acorns, and dried leaves. And then just as suddenly as the wind came up, it stopped.

She lowered her arm then turned to Jack, who was wiping a coating of dust from his eyes and mouth.

"What the hell?" He coughed.

The wind took with it every motion and sound. When she turned her eyes toward the summit it was as though she was looking at a picture. Not a single leaf moved, not a solitary bird called.

"Okay," said Jack. "He knows we're here."

"So." She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the implication. "What were you saying?"

"The camera. Think you can..."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I got it." Bracing herself, she began her climb, crunching through a carpet of autumn leaves.