A clap of thunder rumbled overhead, reminding Abby of the Fourth of July bike rally, maybe President Keller’s last one if Jack had his way. Another boom shattered the night, accompanied by a lightning bolt that sizzled and lit up the sky. In that brief moment Abby thought she saw movement off the trail, just the barest hint of someone skulking in the line of trees near the river. It had to be Jack. No one else would venture out in the storm.
Abby glided into the weeds before braking to mask the sound of wet stones skidding against rubber. She sensed how vulnerable she must be, exposed even in the dark as she continued to ride through an open field. The soggy meadow grass made it difficult to keep moving, but she feared walking would waste too much time if what she thought she saw turned out to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination.
She reached a tall pine tree, stopped, and leaned the bike against the rough, wet bark. Her ears ached from the deafening water noise of rain and river, but the sound drew her like a magnet. She caught a glimpse of reflection from swirling white river water at the bottom of the embankment on which she stood and swayed, dizzy from the height. A burst of lightning, quick and saw-toothed like a zipper, arced in the sky. The trees stood outlined, solitary black silhouettes back-lit by the flash.
Abby swiped a hand across her dripping face and peered into the dark. “Come out, come out wherever, you are,” she whispered into the wind. What was she doing in a storm, chasing someone she could never catch? And if she did find him, what then?
She waited for one more look around during the next burst of light. She had a sense of Jack; her gut told her to stay, and she did, like a Golden Retriever on alert. Lulled by the darkness and steady beat of rain on the branches overhead, Abby jumped at the simultaneous roar of thunder and multiple flashes of lightning as it crackled, strobe-like and horizontal, across the sky. That brief moment seemed to extend forever, as she spotted a figure bent over a bike straight ahead.
Jack.
The next flash came directly toward Abby. She ducked behind a pine tree just in time, as lightning hit a huge oak to her left. A sizzle and loud crack as the trunk split in half and fell, drowned out all other sound. The acrid odor of burnt wood permeated the night. Her eyes couldn’t focus in the aftermath and she stood still, breathing in shallow gulps, waiting for her pupils to accommodate to the dim light.
Without warning, a pale face appeared inches away from her. Eyes feverish and lips pulled back in an evil grin, it was the Jack of a bad dream. But all too real.
“And so, Cherie, you found me, thanks to that bad tire, also your fault.” Jack’s voice whispered, a sibilant hiss cutting through the wind. “When I hid my journal and found that pit under the barn, I never suspected it would prove useful. But not useful enough, it seems, for here you are.”
Abby shouted to be heard above the water and wind. “Jack, this is crazy. You need help. Let me help you. I get it; I get you. I miss my dad enough to drive me crazy, but killing the president won’t make it any better for you. You’ll die, you know. There’s no way you can walk away if this doesn’t stop now. Your father isn’t worth it, and neither is your brother. He’s already dead. I’m your sister, live for me.”
Jack put his lips to her ear. “So I die. I’ll be with my brother, and the president can rot in hell. You’ll be better off without a brother like me.”
“I don’t want you to die. I don’t want anyone to die.” The warm wash of tears on Abby’s cheeks contrasted to the chilly rain, and she attempted to hug her brother.
“Very touching. I don’t want you to die either, but you leave me little choice. I wish you had stayed underground. You are such a sentimental little fool.” He shot out his hand like the tongue of a viper, clasped her arm, and yanked her toward the river. Her slippery-wet skin slid in his grasp. He held tight. “I can’t protect you anymore, God help me.”
Abby’s loose arm flailed and connected with her dad’s bike. In one movement she pulled her other arm loose, wrenched off the tire pump, and ejected a puff of air into Jack’s eye.
Jack grabbed the pump, threw it into the weeds, and laughed. “Did you think that little breeze would stop me?” He lunged at Abby.
She released the canister of dog repellent from the handlebar and sprayed it in Jack’s direction, aiming for his eyes.
He stumbled to the side, howling, then tipped his head back to the cleansing rain.
Abby dropped to the ground, feeling for a branch, a stone, anything to use as a weapon. White-hot pain shot up her left ankle as she twisted it on the way down.
Jack picked up the lightweight Cannondale as if it were a toy. He heaved it through the air, and it sailed over the cliff into the water. He grabbed Abby under her armpits from behind and hauled her to her feet, dragging her toward the river. “You can peddle that bike to hell.”
She writhed in his grip, kicked, tried to lower her head enough to bite his protruding hands. Her screams disappeared into the storm.
Jack panted as he struggled to subdue Abby. He managed to get her through the trees and stopped, teetering near the edge of the cliff over the river. Turning, he faced her forward.
Lightning flashed. Abby saw the froth of white water far below, beating against the rocks. Between where she stood and the surface of the Youghiogheny, nothing but open space existed. She tried to subdue her growing panic, picturing Silas, praying he would come to her aid.
Jack held Abby suspended as he attempted to move her to the very edge of the precipice. When she felt his grip loosen, she slammed her uninjured foot down on his instep.
Jack brought his knee up behind Abby’s, and she collapsed on the mossy edge of the cliff. She rolled over and punched him high, between his legs.
He moaned and bent over.
Almost transparent through the rain, Silas appeared. He grabbed Abby by the hand. “Go, git away, Abigail. Don’t look back.”
With Silas’s momentum, Abby got to her feel and scrambled to the trees. She limped for the bike trail, Jack in pursuit. She knew she couldn’t outrun him.
“What the hell?”
At the sound of Jack’s voice, Abby darted behind a tree and stood very still, back pressed into the rough bark, waiting for an opportunity to escape. She chanced a glance behind her.
Silas hovered in the air, his hair blowing straight back from his face. Resignation and anger moved through his eyes as he raised both hands and dove for Jack.
Jack’s eyes widened. He covered his head with both hands, submission and protection in one gesture. When nothing happened, he slowly dropped his arms. “I don’t know what you are. Maybe I’ve lost my mind. But nothing can hurt me any more than I’ve already been hurt. All the power of this world or any other can’t stop me.”
He took a swing; his fist going straight through Silas. “If I can’t hurt you, I'm betting you can’t hurt me either. I have a mission. And I will not fail.”
Mournful, as if an orchestra of violins were playing in a minor key, Silas moaned. “Keep yer filthy hands off her. She don’t belong to you.”
Jack laughed. “Either I’m hallucinating, or you’re a pathetic ghost. She can be all yours as soon as I send her your way.”
Silas flew into Jack but made no physical contact with him. He returned to Abby and gazed into her eyes. “I’m guessin’ I kin touch only you—because we got one heart. I failed you again, Abigail.” With a caress to her cheek, he disappeared into the mist.
At the sound of a soft footstep, Abby realized the rain and the rumbles of thunder had moved off down the river. Dripping foliage, rushing water, and another footfall; the night had gone from deafening to silent in a heartbeat. Jack was coming for her.
The faint glow of moonlight behind the clouds filtered through the trees. Jack’s white skin and blond hair should be a beacon. Shapes became clear—trees, rocks, Jack’s bike. But no Jack.
“Boo!” He appeared from the other side of the tree and grabbed a handful of Abby’s hair before she could react. “Mon Dieu, you are a pain, Cherie. You and that monstrosity from the grave. But not for much longer.”
Abby shook her head, but Jack held firm; her scalp burned. “Let me go.”
“Shut up. Just shut up.” He dragged her to the rim of the cliff.
Abby fought back, lunging for eyes, throat, any vulnerable spot on his body.
Jack dangled her writhing legs over the storm-frothed river.
Abby lifted both feet and kicked Jack in the stomach, hard. The air came out of his lungs with a whoosh. His arms flailed like propellers. She used the momentum to throw herself onto solid ground.
Jack lost his balance. He fell forward toward the river and disappeared over the rocky edge.