THE TREES SWAYED around me, moaning and shaking like the wind had brought them to life. I stared into the dark water at the base of the ravine. The pale light of the moon reflected off the glassy surface as a cloud drifted across it.
Hunger and anxiety gnawed away at the inside of my stomach. It turned with nausea and unease, but the nerves kept me awake and alert. I'd tried to sleep during the day, but I hadn't been able to get more than a few hours rest. The pain in my leg had gotten worse. My ankle pulsed and throbbed with each beat of my heart. I ground my teeth together and ignored it as best I could.
The wind gusted and I shivered. I'd checked the clock in my car before getting out. It had to be almost eight by now.
Suddenly, leaves rustled behind me. Sticks snapped. I looked over my shoulder. A bulky man wearing a dark jacket and a backpack climbed down the side of the ravine slowly, watching every step like there might be a trap waiting for him under the decaying leaves. Finally, he reached the base where the terrain leveled out. He crept towards me, keeping his head down until he was right in front of me—close enough that I could smell the skunky weed on his clothes.
He adjusted the black baseball cap on his head. His eyes shifted over me like he was trying to decide if I could be trusted. He had a good half of a foot on me, and he towered over me like a monument in a cemetery. "Are you Harper?" he asked in a gruff voice.
"Yeah," I said. I looked him directly in his hazel brown eyes. They flickered in the light of the moon. A thin silver scar glistened on his tanned left cheek. "Are you Kurt?"
He nodded. "You have the money?"
I nodded. "You have the gun?"
He looked back behind himself, up to the top of the ravine, checking to make sure we weren't being watched. He sniffed once and rubbed the scruffy brown stubble on his chin. "Cash first."
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. Carefully, I slipped the bills out of the fold of the worn leather and handed them to him. Kurt licked the tip of his thumb and flipped through the stack, moving his lips as he counted in his head. With a satisfied nod, he took his wallet out of his pocket and put the money away.
"Well?" I asked impatiently. My leg twitched involuntarily with nerves, and I hoped he didn't notice.
"Relax," Kurt said, holding his hand out in front of himself, as if to calm me. He took his backpack off and slung it to the ground. Crouching in front of it, he unzipped the main compartment and removed a small gun. "Safety is here." He pointed to a small switch at the top. "Bullets go in here." He flipped open the chamber of the revolver and spun it once before snapping it shut.
He held the gun out to me. I took it without hesitation, gripping it firmly in my hand like it was a snake that might slither away if I let it go. The metal was ice against my numb fingers.
I liked it.
The wind kicked up and carried rotten leaves from last autumn through the eternally composting ravine. Kurt narrowed his eyes at me. "Bullets sold separately."
I skipped a breath like I'd had the wind knocked out of me. "Are you fucking with me?"
He laughed. Too loudly. I thought his laugh was so loud the entire town would hear us. I thought all of New Jersey would hear us. I thought Joshua and the dogs would emerge at the top of the ravine, glaring down—hungry and ready for a meal.
"Yeah, I'm fucking with you, kid," Kurt finally chuckled. "You look like you're easy to fuck with. Don't worry." He picked up the backpack and handed it to me. "They're in the bag. You can keep it, too. Need somewhere to put that gun."
I didn't say anything in response. I just glared at him, my grip on the weapon tightening as I reached out and took the backpack.
"Well all right," Kurt finally said, frowning at me. "Guess I'm out of here. See ya." With a nod, he turned and headed back up the slope of the ravine, leaving me alone in a ditch with a gun and enough vengeance in my heart and stolen gasoline in the trunk of my car to burn an entire house to the ground.
• • •
It was nearly midnight. The stars winked like the eyes of ten thousand tiny insects as the wind blew clouds across the sky. I flipped my headlights off as I turned onto Clay Road. I slowed the car down to a crawl, inching along as I silently approached the farmhouse. Its dark form came into view in front of me, and a shiver ran down my spine. My entire body shook, and the air in the car turned to ice. Nausea tugged at the base of my stomach. The house loomed over Millstone like the dark shadow of some unseen devil hiding beneath the earth, waiting to leap out and consume the entire town.
Joshua's beige truck sat cold in the front. Breathing in heavily through my nose, I turned into the driveway. Gravel crunched and crumpled under the tires of my car as I slowly coasted up until I was next to the pickup. I put the Camry in park, and then I turned off the engine. The entire night was silent for a second, and then the sound of the wind took over, whistling through the tiny cracks in the seal of my car's windows.
I opened the door and stepped out. Wind roared past my ears, and I had to grab the door to the car to prevent it from slamming behind me. Shutting it carefully and quietly, I turned my head and looked up at the house. My hair blew into my eyes. I blinked a few times and pushed it back. The windows were dark, and the dogs were nowhere to be seen.
Maybe Joshua was sleeping.
I doubted it, though, and even if he was, he wouldn't be for long.
I walked briskly around to the back of my car and unlocked the trunk. As soon as the key clicked, the door released. I pulled it open the rest of the way. They were still there—four red cans of gasoline, all of them full. My hands shaking, I reached into the trunk and grabbed two of them.
They felt heavy as I limped over to the house. Dry grass crumpled like hay under my feet. When I reached the side of the building, I took the cap off the first can. I picked it up and tilted it forward. The translucent and potent fluid poured out, soaking the side of the house. The familiar smell of gasoline permeated the air.
The liquid streamed out quickly, but not quickly enough. I felt like the lights on the house would flip on at any minute. I'd turn around, and Joshua would be standing right behind me with the dogs. I shook the can, trying to force it to pour faster. Tipping it until it was nearly upside down, I emptied the final contents into the grass at the base of the house. I set the can down and picked up the second. As I unscrewed the cap on that one, I walked around to the back of the house and soaked that wall as well.
Finally, once the second can was empty, I limped back over to where I'd left the first. I picked it up and headed to my car, looking back over my shoulder as I went to make sure the lights in the windows hadn't flipped on. I listened for the dogs, but I heard nothing but the howl of the wind.
When I reached my car, I placed the empty cans of gas in the trunk and grabbed the other two. My leg pulsed in pain as I walked back over to the house. This was taking longer than I'd planned. I needed to get moving. I unscrewed the caps on both of the cans, my numb hands struggling to get them open. The wind gusted, slamming against the house and making it creak. I winced at the sound, but still no lights.
Before I could think about it any longer, I tipped both cans, and the gas poured out onto the grass at the base of the house. Carefully, I paced away, the streams forming a thick line behind me. It glistened in the moonlight as it seeped into the dry dirt and grass. I made my way around to the front of the house and headed back a few yards from the front porch.
When the cans felt light, I tipped them all the way over, and the last of the gasoline dribbled out into a small puddle in front of my feet. I shook them to make sure they were truly empty, and then I returned to my car, putting them both back in the trunk next to the others. Gently, I swung the trunk closed.
I turned and faced the house again, pushing my hair out of my eyes as the wind stormed past me. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not, but it seemed like it was getting stronger. The frequency of gusts had undoubtedly increased, like some sort of cosmic contraction—energy pulsing through the air and forcing the entire atmosphere to move.
Shivering, I checked my back pockets. The small box of matches was in one, and my cigarettes were in the other. Satisfied, I reached into the front pocket of my sweatshirt, and placed my fingers around the cold metal of the gun. Gripping it in my hand, I removed it from my pocket. The icy metal surface glistened in the moonlight. It was loaded. I held it for a second, imagining pulling the trigger. Moving it down to my side, I walked up to the front of Joshua's house.
I climbed the wooden porch steps slowly and carefully. The second one creaked beneath my foot. I held my breath, waiting for the dogs to start barking, but the eerie roar of the wind was all I heard. I glanced at the windows, but they were completely dark, still covered by the thick curtains.
I reached the door, inhaling deeply through my nose. My breath condensed in the cold air in front of me like smoke before the wind gave another intense gust, whisking it away.
I raised the revolver in my hand, and then with the butt of the gun, I knocked on Joshua's door.