Chapter 36 - The Girl in Green

Over the next couple of days, some of our classmates left for other schools.

And then Star left us.

Her parents arrived in an old Blazer, looking dazed and more than a little frightened.

I stood in the courtyard of the motel to say goodbye to Star.

“I wish we could go back to the school,” she said.

I shuddered, thinking of the dark tunnel underneath the mountain. That would forever be the school for me, but I understood what Star meant. I wanted to go back to the moment when I’d first walked into the building and was struck by the old-world glamour of the place. I’d thought it was a cage, but what a beautiful cage.

That school was gone.

“Maybe you’ll find another building like this one,” I said.

“Doubtful,” Star said.

I nodded. “What are you going to do now?” I asked.

“Online classes, then UVA for architecture,” she said.

“You saved my life.” This was an awkward time to say this. But I had to say it before she left.

“I know,” she said.

We didn’t hug goodbye, just a wave.

I imagined Star shredding through her online classes, tearing through her coursework at UVA. I imagined her brilliant future, a lifetime spent reclaiming old buildings from neglect—reclaiming, restoring, and reinventing history.

What I couldn’t imagine was a future for myself.

Star and I agreed to keep in touch, but I suck at that, because anything that isn’t right in front of my face doesn’t exist.

I wished I was different.

I wished I could change things by wanting them.

* * *

The next day, Kenzie and I went out to the yard of Tree’s tiny house and cut stems of blue hydrangeas.

“You’re welcome to them,” Tree said. “I’m not going to be around to appreciate them much longer anyway.”

Tree was still working at the diner, but everyone could tell she was going to be persona non grata in town once Kenzie’s family’s money dried up. She was coming with us. Michaela had a spare room picked out for her in the big yellow house.

Barlow arrived at Tree’s house with a giant yellow chrysanthemum in a pot. His mother dropped him off but took the car.

“Where did the flowers come from?” Kenzie asked.

“They got left at the hospital,” he said. “I thought I’d take them with us.”

Barlow, Kenzie, and I went inside. Mom and Tree were sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee. I took Mom’s coffee out of her hand and took a sip.

“I need the keys to the car,” I said, holding my breath. We’d never had a loan-me-the-car kind of relationship. I wasn’t a great driver.

“Sure you don’t want me to take you?” Mom said, fishing the keys out of her purse.

I looked at Kenzie and then Barlow.

Barlow shook his head. I understood.

“Are you sure you guys can handle this?” Tree asked. “Emotionally, I mean. If you need—”

“We’ll be together,” I said, cutting her off.

I liked Tree. She was classic Mom-friend material, floating in on a breeze, way too familiar with the inner dynamics of my soul, willing to engage in some off-the-cuff parenting I’d long since outgrown. It was sweet, but unnecessary.

The last of my childhood died in the tunnel with Madison.

The roads were winding and viscerally terrifying for me, since I hadn’t driven for a while.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Barlow asked.

“If I put the school on navigation, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up in the graveyard,” I replied. “It’s how we got there the first time.”

“Or you could just look for the giant statue,” Kenzie said from the back seat.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Barlow began. “Because I could . . .”

“Do you want me to drive off the road?” I asked. “I’m not really used to driving.”

“I could drive,” Barlow said.

“I think we’re here,” Kenzie said.

We crested a rise and the stand of trees showed in the distance. The top of the avenging angel statue was visible now. The storm had blown most of the leaves off the trees.

We drove through the rusted gate, the ground littered with nameplates, and I had the urge to get out and look for Gay-Lynne Sims’s gravestone.

Or nameplate.

More likely an unmarked grave. No one here had bothered to care for her in life. Why would they start after she was dead?

She wasn’t a monster.

But her bones weren’t here. She had died in the tunnels, devoured.

Like Layla.

Like Ava.

Like Madison.

Like Soren.

I drove past the potter’s field and parked outside the circle of trees surrounding the winged angel. We got out and walked to the base of the statue—Barlow with his yellow chrysanthemums, Kenzie and I holding armfuls of hydrangeas.

It seemed like months since I’d first seen the statue. Of the gravestones and nameplates scattered around, how many were for people who’d been dragged down to the tunnels and sacrificed? I wondered ghoulishly if there were actual remains buried here or just the headstones.

Even now, the FBI was scouring the tunnel, trying to figure out if Coach did it by himself, or if he was part of some satanic death cult.

No sign of the monster.

They would find the remains of our friends and the bones of so many more.

The three of us stood together at the feet of the angel, arms filled with flowers. The statue towered over us, tall and commanding. I didn’t care if it had been bought with the blood of dead miners, it was still beautiful.

“Ava didn’t have any real family,” Kenzie said. “If they find her, I’ll . . .”

She choked on that thought. I didn’t want to think about it either. The half-gnawed bones, the rotting flesh.

But it wasn’t Ava’s face I saw when I thought of the monster. It was Madison, imploring me not to leave her to the monster that swam into focus every time I closed my eyes.

“Fortis,” Barlow said. “Latin for ‘strong.’ ”

“And she was,” Kenzie said.

Kenzie took several steps forward and laid the flowers at the foot of the statue.

“For Ava,” she said. “And for Layla.”

I set my flowers on the foot of the pedestal.

“For Madison,” I said. “She held my hand in the dark and . . .”

I choked back a sob, unable to continue. My mind filled with what-could-have-been scenarios. If Madison had survived, if we’d come through that ordeal together, who would we have been to each other?

Barlow laid his flowers at the foot of the statue.

“For Soren,” he said.

We turned, but I think we were all reluctant to leave. It felt final, this act. It was as close as Ava would come to a funeral.

I sat on the bench next to Barlow. Kenzie stood nearby, looking up at the angel.

“I’m going to stay here,” she said.

I stared at her, not sure what she’d just said. “What?”

Kenzie turned around, chin held high, lips pressed in a look of determination.

“I’m going to buy The Guesthouse,” Kenzie said.

“It’s up for sale,” Barlow said. “Big surprise there, huh?”

We all knew that The Guesthouse was owned by Burton’s cousin, and he was in the wind. People in town had to have known about the monster. He was my vote for most likely to be complicit, followed closely by crotchety diner guy.

“You’ve talked about this?” I suddenly realized that Barlow knew all about this plan. They’d been making plans together. Without me.

Barlow reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.

“We always planned to tell you,” he said.

“And your family is okay with all this?”

“No, but I have my own money,” Kenzie said. “It’s time the family stopped telling me what to do.”

“Okay,” I said. “But why stay here?”

Barlow flinched and I realized how that must sound to him.

“To fight the monster,” she said.

I reeled back in shock. The FBI had been all over the tunnel and they hadn’t found anything. “You don’t even know if the monster is still alive,” I protested. “It could have died in the fire.”

“We don’t think so,” Barlow said softly. “We think it escaped back through the hospital.”

We. There was that word again.

“But why fight it?” I said.

Kenzie looked down at her hands for a moment as though trying to gather her thoughts. And when she started speaking again, she stared up at the massive stone angel. From the look on her face I wondered if she was seeing Ava in the stubborn, heroic tilt of the head. If so, she wouldn’t have been too far off.

“Imagine you’re in a park, and a poisonous snake bites someone you love. And that person dies. You have to go back and kill the snake, don’t you? You can’t leave it to bite someone else, can you?”

I thought of the horror of watching the monster devour Madison, the moment when I could have killed it because it was as close to me as Kenzie was now, but I’d been too frightened. I could have saved her and I didn’t.

“You could stay here, with us,” Barlow said.

I could stay here with Kenzie and Barlow to fight the monster. My mind bounced away from that idea so quickly it was as though my brain had touched a hot stove.

I couldn’t step into that fray.

I wasn’t ready to hold a knife again.

Maybe one day.

Maybe never.

I was afraid. Not so much afraid of the monster as I was of myself. I didn’t know if I was up to the task.

If I’d been stronger, Madison would still be here.

“I don’t know if I can,” I said.

Barlow reached over and squeezed my hand.

“I understand,” he said. “More than you know.”

“If you ever change your mind, you’ll know where to find us,” Kenzie said.

I closed my eyes. Life is so strange. Someone like Dr. Jacobsen, steeped in lore and horror, brushed against something unimaginable and it ruined him. I was pretty sure that in the future, he would hide the fact that he’d ever been here, at the school with the monster of the mountain, the infamous serial killer Coach Mullins.

He would leave the place that had briefly been his home and his obsession without looking back.

But Barlow had been ready for this fight from the beginning. Seeing his friend killed in front of his eyes had only strengthened his resolve.

And Kenzie, who couldn’t sleep at night, who was continually anxious, had moved on with things and was ready to do battle with monsters.

You never know who you really are until you stare a monster in the face.

But who was I? I still didn’t know.

* * *

I was already packed because I had nothing to pack. Anything that I did have was in my room back at school, and no one was allowed in the building. My phone was still in the building, but the fire had spread quickly to the second floor. The building wasn’t structurally sound. I’d lost evidence of the monster on my phone, but I couldn’t help but think that was for the best. I didn’t want the world to see Ava that way—as a victim. She’d been so much more.

Mom got me a cheap phone from the Walmart near the hospital. It held Kenzie’s and Barlow’s phone numbers, and that was the only thing that mattered to me.

Tree had spent the previous few days packing up everything that could fit into the trunk of Mom’s car and arranging to ship the rest. Her truck had a blown seal and was burning oil like crazy, so she decided to leave it behind. She could have sold it, but she just wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible.

Kenzie and Barlow came to say goodbye.

The three of us stood in Tree’s driveway under a gloomy autumn sky, the kind of day when you can’t really tell what time it is by looking up. It lent an air of unreality to leaving. I was going home.

“You know that trick of throwing the alcohol?” Kenzie said. “It was kind of brilliant.”

“It wouldn’t have worked if Star hadn’t been standing around with the matches. She was the brilliant one.”

“You always sell yourself short,” Barlow said. “You were the only one who got a good hit on the monster. You saved us all.”

Stabbing is what I do best. I thought it, but I didn’t say it.

I’d never told either of them about the Oliver incident. And suddenly, I wanted them both to know who I was and how I’d gotten to this place. I wanted them to know everything about me, all the secrets I’d hidden for so long. But it was too late for that.

Awkward silence fell while we stood and stared at each other. I didn’t want to leave. I’d never felt like this before, like I had anything approaching a family.

Mom was Mom. But this . . . It was different.

Kenzie went inside to talk to Tree and Mom, leaving Barlow and me alone.

I’m not good at telling people how I feel. I’m even worse at saying thank you. But my window of opportunity was closing.

“You came back for me,” I said in a low voice. “I didn’t expect that.”

Barlow reached around my shoulders and pulled me close.

“Come back for me,” he murmured. “Anytime. I’ll be here.”

“Maybe I will,” I murmured.

I nestled my face in the crook of his neck. We’d spent so little time together, and most of that time fighting a monster.

“Jess?” Mom called from the car.

“Take care of yourself, Jess.” Barlow kissed me softly.

I rolled down my window as we drove away, so that I could get one last look at the two of them.

We headed to the diner so Tree could get her final paycheck.

Crotchety old guy was waiting tables by himself, moving at a glacial pace. When we walked in, he spotted Tree and a momentary look of relief passed over his face.

Momentary, because the place was full of locals and they went dead silent.

“I’ll get your check,” he said quietly.

I wanted coffee, but not enough to hang around the diner a moment longer.

We got in the car. Mom drove, I sat in the passenger seat, and Tree was in the back sandwiched next to pillows, suitcases, and an old quilt her great-grandmother had made. Tight squeeze.

To leave town, we had to take the road by the graveyard. The sky was overcast and I held my breath as we passed. Glad to never see that graveyard again, that held the bodies of so many victims of this place.

The road turned and climbed through a heavily wooded area.

“What’s that?” Mom said.

Up ahead on the road was a bright spot of rich green, a stark contrast to the gray of the day, the yellow leaves on the forest floor.

The dark green of a riding jacket.

“Don’t stop, Mom,” I said anxiously. I turned to look at Tree in the back seat. Her eyes were clouded, her mouth open in a gesture of dismay and concern.

No.

Mom slowed the car as the green patch in the middle of the road coalesced into a human form. Green riding jacket, black velvet collar.

“Mom, keep going,” I said frantically.

“I can’t just run her over,” Mom said.

The woman, lying in the middle of the road, dark red hair covering her face. She lifted a hand beseechingly, and the hair fell away from her face.

Burton.

Mom stopped the car.

“It’s Ms. Burton!” Tree said. Her voice was strangely slow, as though she’d just emerged from a deep sleep. “She’s hurt!”

I turned and reached into the back seat to grab ahold of Tree, but she’d already thrown open the car door, leaving it wide open. She ran to the figure in the road.

“Ms. Burton, are you all right?” Tree said.

“How dare you!” the monster said.

Burton’s last words.

The monster lifted off the ground, a shape that was human, but not. She towered over Tree and lunged.

I put my hand on my door and opened it, hoping against hope that I could pull Tree back from the monster. I reached into my sports bra for the knife, put a foot on the ground, and was yanked violently back into my seat.

Mom.

She’d grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the car.

I wrenched my arm free, but Mom fought back, grabbing ahold of my shirt, reaching an arm around my neck and pulling me toward her. She was stronger than I remembered her being, or maybe we’d never tangled in close quarters before.

“Let go of me!” I yelled.

Mom grabbed my face between her hands.

That stilled me.

“Jess,” she said. “She’s gone.”

Her tone of voice was final and terrible, shocked and shot full of pain. I’d never heard her sound like that before, not even when she’d come home to find me covered in Oliver’s blood.

I looked out over the road. Both the monster and Tree were gone, the only sign they’d ever been there, a bloody smear on the road leading into the bushes.

Gone.

“I’m not losing you again,” Mom said. Her face was a mask of pain and guilt and anger. For once in my life, I didn’t argue with her.

She reached over my seat, pulled the door shut, and drove.

We left the mountain then.

We drove for twenty minutes without speaking. Mom, knuckles white, her hands shaking on the wheel. She could barely keep the car in her lane. We drove up out of the valley on a winding road, and when we reached a scenic overlook, Mom pulled onto the gravel by a split rail fence.

She stopped the car and put her head down on the steering wheel, her breath coming in ragged spurts.

I put a hand on her shoulder and gave her what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

I felt sorry for what would come next.

Twenty minutes was long enough for me to make a decision that would change both our lives.

I’ve never been able to imagine myself in any place other than where I was at that moment. Futureless, rudderless. Nothing seemed important.

Until now.

I got out of the car and stood at the edge of the overlook. I stared out over the sea of orange and brown trees as a memory gripped me. It hadn’t registered at the time, because I’d been drugged, fighting to retain consciousness.

You’re overfeeding it, the nurse had said.

The head of the asylum had kept the monster under the mountain, under control, by feeding it the occasional lost soul, or victim of a botched lobotomy, like Gay-Lynne Sims. The headmaster had hand-selected a few victims she thought no one would miss, like Layla.

Like me.

Ms. Burton had kept the monster on a tight leash, but now it was free.

It was well-fed now, but soon it would be hungry for more.

I didn’t think I had what it took to fight the monster. I wasn’t strong, like Barlow. I wasn’t brave, like Kenzie. What I didn’t understand when I left is that there is only one reason to fight.

You fight because you have something to lose.

We’d let the monster free and now it was on a rampage.

I’d left Kenzie and Barlow behind.

The wind rustled through the trees. Behind me, I heard the car door open and the crunch of Mom’s feet on the gravel.

Mom stood alongside me and looked out over the valley.

“I have to go back,” I said.

I expected her to argue, but she didn’t.

Maybe she knew.

I’d spent years of my life honing my ability to break out of locked rooms. To jump fences. To run away.

I’d never had anything to run to before.

I belonged back on the mountain.