“Sounds good.” Marty packed up the book, stood up, and slung the backpack over his shoulder. “Follow me. And stay close. My granddaddy always said an unlearned man might get lost for days in the deep places, where the light of day doesn’t even cut through the thick branches.”
Like my cousin promised, the Bleeding Rock wasn’t too far away. Rising from the center of the clearing, the huge, flat chunk of stone was about the size and shape of a refrigerator lying on its side. All the plant life surrounding the stone was withered and brown, and it crunched beneath our feet. The rock was the color of chalk, except for a rusty-looking stain on top. I placed my hand against the stone. It was dry and cold to the touch.
“Years and years ago,” said Marty, “a woman lived in these parts whom everyone suspected of being a witch. I’m not exactly sure what her real name was, but folks called her Maddie Someday.”
Marty turned his head and spat a couple of times.
Maddie Someday?
“She was in my book,” I said. “She was a witch who destroyed crops and killed livestock.”
“She did worse than that. On certain nights you could hear her voice ring throughout the hills, right along with an almost tribal drumbeat. On those nights, a kid always disappeared.”
“She kidnapped them?” Alex asked.
Marty nodded solemnly.
Alex shivered. “W-w-what did she do with them?”
“No one knows for sure.” Marty smiled. “Some folks say she ate them all up—”
“She was a cannibal!?” I said.
“Some people think so. Others believe she turned them into twisted little goblins to serve her. But each and every one of the kids who vanished was right about our age.”
“Wait a second,” Alex said. “When you say ‘our age,’ do you mean your age—” He pointed at Marty and me hopefully. “—or my age?”
“I reckon she would have taken any of us if she could.”
“Yeah,” I added, “but she’d probably take you first, Alex, because of the extra meat on your bones.”
“You guys are just trying to scare me.” Alex pouted. “There’s no such things as witches and goblins.”
I ignored my brother. If putting on a brave front helped him, fine by me. “What does Maddie Someday—”
“Whenever you say her name,” Marty said, “you should spit, just to keep the spirits happy.”
I didn’t think it would help, but I turned my head and spat.
“Ewww!” Alex said.
“All right. Now what does the witch have to do with this boring old rock?”
“Boring? Boring?” Marty clutched at his chest, as if my words caused his heart to ache. “This rock may not look like much right now, but this is the site of one of the most awful events in the history of Crooked Hills.”
He paused for a second, holding his breath and looking back and forth between Alex and me, letting the drama build.
“This,” he said, “is where Maddie Someday was murdered!”
Murdered, I thought, and felt another chill.
After spitting, Marty continued his tale with the flair of a natural-born storyteller. “Folks around these parts knew the witch was behind the kidnappings, but they didn’t have any evidence, and the county sheriff wouldn’t do anything about it. So they took the law into their own hands.”
“They killed her?” Alex said.
“They didn’t just kill her.” Marty tipped his face forward so shadows darkened his features. “They chopped her apart.”
“Ugh!” Alex said.
But Marty wasn’t quite done milking the shock value out of the story. He stretched out his arm theatrically and pointed to the stone. “And they did it on this very spot! See how the stone is stained red on top? Her blood marked the stone! That’s why the grass doesn’t grow around here. No plant can feed on witch’s blood and grow naturally.”
I took an instinctive step away from the Bleeding Rock. I couldn’t help but think of my Uncle beheading the chicken on the old tree stump. Had Maddie run around flapping her arms wildly when they butchered her?
“When the gruesome job was done,” Marty said, “they buried what was left of her in six different graves around the county, two for her arms, two for her legs, one for her body, and one for her head. But they say every year on the anniversary of the witch’s death, her body parts crawl through the earth to meet back at this spot, and fresh blood spills out of the stone where she died!”
My mouth felt dry, my tongue swollen like a rolled pair of socks.
“Let’s get out of here,” Alex said.
“I didn’t scare you, did I?” Marty laughed. “All right, all right. Let’s go down to the creek. A good swim will take your minds off all this.”
Marty took off through the woods. He was moving so fast we could hardly keep up with him. He climbed over a huge, fallen tree covered with moss, then leaped down to the other side and out of sight. It looked like he’d climbed the log hundreds of times. I had a little more trouble, but I made it to the top and helped Alex. Stinging sweat dripped into my eyes and stuck my shirt to my back and chest, but I guess it really didn’t matter since we’d be swimming soon.
Marty waited for us up ahead. He stood at the edge of a gravel road cutting through the forest. I was pretty sure it was the same stretch of road we’d traveled to get to my aunt and uncle’s house, although I saw no recognizable landmarks.
“We can follow the road to the creek.” Marty pointed down the path. “Should be a little easier trek, and it will take us directly to the best swimming spot.”
We walked for what seemed like miles along the curvy road. My legs ached—and they were starting to itch again, although I refused to whine about it—but at least we weren’t running to keep up with Marty any longer. The sun was high overhead, the heat pressing down on me and scorching my arms, face, and neck.
“We’re not far now,” Marty said. “Just around the next bend—”
I heard the roar of the engine before I saw the black sports car. The vehicle—I think it was an old model Firebird—tore around the curve, shooting a cloud of gravel and dust high into the air. The windows were down and thunderous heavy metal music blared from the stereo. The sun glinted on the windshield, and I couldn’t see the driver’s face. He must have been going at least sixty miles-per-hour—far too fast for the dirt road. The car shot in our direction, bearing down on Marty!
My cousin froze as the car rocketed forward without any sign of slowing down. Either the driver didn’t see him or didn’t care. The headlights and grille gave the car the appearance of an evil grin. If I didn’t act fast, Marty would be road kill for sure!
At the last second, I grabbed my cousin by the shoulder and yanked him back. He lost his footing and fell. The car blasted past. A shower of rocks and pebbles whipped over us like a swarm of killer bees. I covered my face and coughed in the cloud of dust and car exhaust.
“Slow down, jerk!” I yelled. I couldn’t help myself, not after what had happened to my father. I couldn’t stand to see someone driving recklessly. Didn’t really matter. No way the driver heard me over the sound of the radio—
The brake lights flared. The back end fishtailed a little. The Firebird skidded to a stop.
Marty scrambled to his feet. “Oh, no,” he whispered. “Oh, no no no.”
The bright white reverse lights flared. The reflection of the surrounding trees undulated on the waxed body of the vehicle. The driver cut the engine. The music died down. Dust settled like powdered bone on the car’s jet black skin. Waves of heat danced over the hood, warping the air. Beneath the hood, the engine popped and clicked, cooling down after running hot.
The driver’s side door opened up, and a young man stepped out.
He wore jeans and a faded and frayed polo shirt. His blonde hair was shoulder length, and he had the cruelest eyes I had ever seen. The kind of guy, I thought, who only looks happy when he’s making someone cry uncle. He was at least sixteen—obviously, since he had his license—but I would have guessed he was a little older. He regarded us for a second, tilting his head from side to side, then stomped in our direction. His face was a mask of rage.
“What did you say?” he asked.
Beside me, Marty kept on whispering. “That’s Greg Crewes. Oh, we’re in trouble. Apologize, Charlie. Say you’re sorry.”
But I just couldn’t do that.
“I said you need to slow down,” I snapped at Greg. “You’re going to hurt somebody if you keep driving like an idiot.”
Marty winced like I’d punched him in the stomach.
“An idiot, huh?” Greg continued walking right up to me. “Kid, I don’t know who you are, but you’re in for the beating of your life.”
“We’re dead!” Marty said.
I wanted to run, but I couldn’t make my legs work. They were cemented in place. My only option was to try to talk my way out of this mess.
“We don’t want to fight,” I said, my voice shaky. “We’re not looking for trouble.”
Greg towered over me. He leered, and I saw his yellow teeth. On the left side of his mouth, it looked like extra teeth pushed out of his gums, like he had the beginning of a double row of choppers. He hooked his fingers over the collar of my shirt and drew me close. The cloth started to tear, and I had to stand on my tiptoes.
“Well, whether you want trouble or not,” he said, “you’ve got it. When I’m done with you, you’ll wish you got hit by a car.”
He drew his other arm back. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his hand into a fist pointed right at my face.
This is it, I thought. Lights out!
I SQUEEZED MY EYES SHUT and mentally prepared myself for pain and certain death. I’d never really been punched before, not by someone who wanted to knock my block off. I couldn’t count on much help from Marty or Alex, either. While I couldn’t see them with my eyes closed, I heard Marty whimpering next to me, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if Alex was halfway home already. I felt a shadow pass over my face as Greg’s fist eclipsed the sun.
Something whizzed past my ear. It sounded like a hornet on steroids. Suddenly, Greg released me.
“Ow!” he cried.
My eyes snapped open. Greg Crewes hopped a foot or so away from me, and the hand he was going to use to pummel me into oblivion was now clapped over his right ear. An angry red stain spread across his cheeks, and tears glistened in his eyes.
I heard the hornet sound again, and something struck Greg hard, right between the eyes.
“Ouch!” the bully squeaked. He staggered. Now he covered his forehead with his other hand. The object that had struck him fell to the ground—a rock about the size of a large marble. I glanced over my shoulder, but couldn’t see where the projectile had come from.
Greg bellowed with anger. The assault only stunned him for a second or two, and now he was fighting mad. Growling, he charged Marty, Alex, and me. I didn’t know who he planned on ripping apart first.
Another rock zoomed out of the woods but it missed Greg by a couple of inches. It struck the gravel road with a small puff of dust.
Greg’s arm shot out like a striking serpent. Spinning me around, he locked his arm around my throat, putting me between the unseen attacker and himself. I’d seen this in cop shows before—the criminal using a hostage as a human shield.
Marty couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk.
“Let him go!” Alex shouted, biting back his fear. He scrambled forward, but Greg kicked at him. My brother stumbled, and his foot caught on his untied shoelaces. He had a real problem keeping his sneakers tied. He fell on his rump, bruising both his tail bone and his pride.
Alex pushed himself up, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.
“Take another step and I’ll wring his neck!” Greg tightened his choke hold on my throat and looked into the tree line. “And whoever you are out there, you fling another stone and you’ll risk hitting him.” He gave me a shake. “Now come on out of there.”
I gasped for air. I gripped his arm and tried to pry it away, but he was just too strong. My legs kicked in the dirt. Any minute now I’d black out.
Another stone flew out of the brush. This time, though, it wasn’t aimed at Greg. It zipped past us. The right-hand side view mirror of Greg’s car exploded into a glittering shower of broken glass.
“Hey!” Greg released me, and I fell forward. The gravel skinned my knees and the palms of my hands, but at least I could breathe.
Another rock flew out of the trees, this time striking the back windshield of the car with a smack!
“Cut it out!” Greg scrambled for his car, digging in his pocket for keys.
Smack! Another rock struck the rear windshield. This time, a spider web fracture spread across the glass.
“You’re dead,” Greg yelled as he jumped into the car. “Dead! You hear me?”
The engine roared to life, and Greg hit the gas, speeding down the road before any more damage could be inflicted on his precious car.
I rubbed my throat. Marty and Alex helped me to my feet.
“You okay?” Alex asked.
“I think so.”
“We got lucky.” Marty watched the road to make sure Greg didn’t come back for us.
I was about to ask him about the bully when another voice called out from the trees.
“Ask me, you were pretty stupid to rile one of the Crewes boys.” A figure stepped out of hiding. “Brave but stupid.”
A girl about my age emerged from the woods. She had red hair tied back into a long ponytail. Her eyes were green and sparkling. A thick patch of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose. She might have been cute... if she didn’t look like such a tomboy. She wore rolled up jeans that had been patched more times than Marty’s, a dirty pair of sneakers, and a checkered button-up shirt that must have come from the boy’s clothing department. She carried a slingshot, but as she approached she shoved it into her back pocket.
Marty hooted triumphantly and clapped his hands together. “I knew it! I knew it was you!” All signs of the fear he displayed in the face of Greg Crewes were gone.
“Well,” the girl said, “somebody had to rescue the three of you.”
Embarrassed, I looked at my feet, digging the toe of my shoe into the dirt.
“Charlie, Alex...” Marty waved toward the red-headed girl. “. I want you to meet Lisa Summers. Lisa, these are my cousins from out of town. They’re staying with my family for a few weeks.”