The Follower Read online

  She peered through the cheap plastic blinds they’d put on the back window. The camp was still. A few fires burned here and there, but mostly there were only trickles of smoke climbing their way to the heavens. To her left, a shirtless man with his shorts unbuttoned flopped over in his sleep, rubbing his eyes until his hand slowed to a stop and slipped to the ground. To the right, a lone squirrel had come out of hiding to steal some scraps of food before the humans stirred at daybreak.

  No one had followed her. He’d let her go. It didn’t matter if he’d followed her then or not though. He would come for her. She felt it.

  The worst of it was that he’d known her name. Her new one anyway – Caroline – the one she’d picked out randomly from a dime-store thriller she’d read last winter. It meant her father was blabbing about her when he had no cause to. Had he volunteered the information or had the devil asked?

  Still panting, she crossed the few feet to the sink and filled a glass with water. It had a metallic taste here that people blamed on bad pipes, but everything was wrong in this place. It was a sinister omen, water that tasted like blood. She spat it back out, letting half of it run down her chin as she leaned over the drain.

  Cora wiped her mouth with a small towel and then buried her face in it. She couldn’t explain her feelings about this man. Maybe she was being irrational, maybe she’d lost her mind, but she couldn’t help but feel her father had betrayed her by joining in that absurd ritual. If he couldn’t be counted on, then what did she have left?

  She curled up on the bed in the back and threw her arm over her eyes. Her father could take the sleeping bag outside tonight. She had to forget what she’d seen. She’d try to concentrate on her memory of Reed’s face, hoping that he’d come to her in her dreams tonight. Maybe he’d been false, only pretending to care for her, but she’d convinced herself she couldn’t be sure of that. Whatever the true story, in her dreams he loved her and that was all she had left anyway. She closed her eyes, wishing the outside world away, and must have eventually drifted off.

  The next thing she knew she was awakened by a gentle knocking at the door, as the light flooded in across her face. It wasn’t her father out there. He would have been beating the door down, kicking it until he dented it in. The marks already there showed clearly enough what he could do. No, this was a new sound. And Cora knew exactly who it was.

  He’d come for her after all.

  She didn’t move. Maybe he would go away.

  But he didn’t. The outline of his hands and lips showed through the frosted glass of the door. She shivered, scooting farther back onto the bed.

  He used the soothing voice.

  ‘Caroline, I know you’re in there.’

  Yes, he knew. She knew something too. That there would be no escaping him. She slowly rose from her perch, throwing off the dirty sheet, and limped over to the sink to wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her disheveled hair and red face. She combed down her hair and straightened her clothes, the ones she’d been wearing continuously for the last two days. Hopefully she smelled. She wanted to repel him, to drive him away like an exorcised spirit.

  She opened the door and stepped out into the yard without a glance in his direction. It was the eyes that held the power, like a Medusa who would surely turn her to stone.

  From her periphery, she could see he wasn’t wearing his robes today. Just a cheap pair of jeans and a Western-style plaid shirt, the kind with snaps instead of buttons. Salvation Army, for sure. He wore beat-up leather shoes at least one size too big. His feet swam in them. And the smell. Acrid body odor mixed with the burnt embers of last night’s events. He was a nobody, a thief, a villain. He was looking for trade.

  She sat down on a log in front of their empty fire pit. Her father must have left without breakfast, or more likely didn’t come home at all.

  The man reached up to the maple next to them and twisted off a small branch. He knelt down on one knee, took out his knife, and started whittling. His hands were expert, deftly carving off tiny splinters and flicking them into the pit.

  Her heart raced.

  ‘Caroline.’ His knife paused in mid-air, as he turned to look at her slyly. ‘Tell me. Is that your real name?’

  He cocked his head to one side. So sure of himself, wasn’t he? Had her father tipped him off? She’d kill him if he’d let this man in on their secrets. They both had too much to lose.

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Named after my grandmother.’

  He chuckled quietly.

  ‘Exactly.’ He paused. ‘Well, I’m James.’

  Her face was numb. With nothing else to do with her hands, she worked at the fabric at the edge of her shirt, kneading it with her thumbs. A tell. She dropped it like a burning coal.

  Hold still. Give nothing away.

  ‘Why did you run from me last night?’

  ‘I didn’t – I didn’t want to disturb whatever it was you were doing. It’s not my business.’

  ‘You wouldn’t disturb us. It’s open to all, Caroline. You should have come closer. Heard what I had to say.’

  ‘No. It’s okay. No offense or anything. I’m just not cut out for religion.’

  ‘But this isn’t like any other religion.’

  She nodded, staring into the ashes of yesterday’s fire, unable to speak.

  ‘Caroline, look at me.’

  She resisted. She wouldn’t look at him. That was one thing she could still do, not look at him.

  ‘Car-o-line.’ He said it teasingly, in singsong, as if she were being a petulant child avoiding his face.

  ‘I think you know already how much you need me. I can feel a strong power emanating from you. And I’m sure you can sense my own force reaching out to you across the cosmos. You have been through many trials. I can help you. I understand you. Will you please look at me?’

  No, she wouldn’t. She stubbornly gazed down at the ashes, even as she felt her skin going hot and cold. She would never look at him. There was something wrong with him. Something bad.

  ‘When you change your mind, you know where I’ll be. Come to me. Tell me your real name and then I’ll know you are ready. That will be the sign between us.’

  To her relief, he stood to go, tossing the finely pared-down stick at her feet.

  She didn’t move after he’d gone. He was right. His presence did exert some kind of force over her. He was the flame, she the moth, but she could resist now because she knew he would burn her up in an instant.

  She’d made her mistakes already and now she knew better. She picked up his whittled stick, lifted it up to eye level, and snapped it in two.

  CHAPTER 39

  Julie sat up in bed, as close to being in position as she could manage with her foot touching the bedpost, posing as if it were still secured there. Sweat coated her skin despite the cold of the room.

  In the few seconds she had before the woman entered, she slid one hand under the blanket to touch the shears and reassure herself once again that they were real, not another hallucination. She jabbed the center of her palm onto their tip, relieved at once by the pain.

  ‘Go time,’ she whispered.

  The footsteps were closer now. She was right outside. Julie took a deep breath and put both hands up in the air. She knew she could do it. She mustn’t imagine what it would feel like, must not overthink it, but simply act the moment she had a decent line of attack. She had no choice but to kill.

  The window cover slid open and slammed shut in seconds and the door opened. Julie trembled, unable to look at her full on, as she put the tray of food on the edge of the bed and gave Julie the usual signal to begin.

  Julie choked down the food. The dry crusts of bread were barely edible to begin with, but now her throat was constricted under the stress of the occasion.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ the woman taunted. ‘Aren’t you hungry? Or is the food not to your liking?’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. It’s delicious.’ She swallowed hard, hoping the soggy brocco
li would stay put.

  ‘As you can see, I’ve tied you down for now. Didn’t want you hurting yourself anymore after the accident.’ Julie couldn’t tell if she was being serious.

  ‘Accident?’

  ‘With the console.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  The woman stared at her hard.

  ‘Are you – is the baby –?’

  Julie automatically put her hand on her stomach.

  ‘The baby’s moving but I don’t know if it’s hurt. I should see a doctor.’

  The woman took a deep breath.

  ‘You seem fine. A couple of bumps and bruises won’t kill you.’

  ‘My leg though. I can’t feel it. I think there may be something wrong.’

  Check it. Pull off the blanket.

  If she could only get one clear view of her back.

  She slid her hand under the edge of the blanket as the woman’s eyes flicked to her covered leg. She was moving toward it, reaching out one hand. Inch by precious inch, she moved into Julie’s target zone, oblivious to the danger.

  Julie grabbed the shears, her fingers shaking as she wrapped them around the cold metal handles. The woman whipped off the cover and gasped as she processed Julie’s ruse.

  Rage coursing through her, Julie drew back her arm, poised to strike. So she could do it after all.

  But the woman was fast, her survival instinct unerring, as she twisted around and grabbed Julie’s arm mid-air. She squeezed the flesh between her fingers, her nails cutting into it. With her other hand, she held Julie’s wrist, pressing hard into the center of her bones.

  Julie screamed.

  One by one, she pried Julie’s fingers off the shears. Julie clenched her teeth, sweat pouring off her now. Their arms shook as they gripped one another, struggling for control. Julie leaned her head forward ready to bite wherever her teeth could make contact. In that instant though, the woman gave a final hard jerk and ripped the shears from her hand.

  They clattered against the tiles as the woman shoved Julie onto the bed. Her head hit the wall and Julie gaped up at the woman in terror. She’d surely kill her now. She’d never talk her way out of this one.

  ‘I wouldn’t have done it,’ she said through tears. ‘You frightened me and I couldn’t let go but I could never have done it.’

  The woman stepped back, panting. She picked up the shears and pointed them at Julie.

  ‘You tried to kill me,’ she said between clenched teeth.

  Julie had to talk fast. Paint a picture.

  ‘I had – I had planned to use the shears but when the time came, I knew I couldn’t. You’ve been—’

  ‘You tried to kill me.’ This time she seemed more incredulous than anything else.

  ‘I wasn’t going to do it,’ Julie screamed, pulling the sheet up under her chin as if that would protect her.

  ‘You set it up. You made a plan. You were going to do it. You tried.’

  The woman shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘You disgusting ingrate. Don’t you know I could have killed you when I found out about that baby? James would never have known. But I didn’t. I took care of you. I’ve done everything for you. You would die without me.’

  ‘I’m so grateful – so grateful for everything you’ve done.’

  ‘All your sweet words and your fake pity. Now I see how it really is. Now I know you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You should be. You’re going to have a long time to think about it all alone up here. I’ve been too indulgent with you. That stops now. It’s over. Whatever foolish sympathy I might have felt, whatever I’d imagined about you, it’s all over. Forget it. Now I know. You aren’t giving in. You aren’t accepting anything. You are a deceiver.’

  She headed to the door. Julie tried again.

  ‘It isn’t like that. Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’ll make amends.’

  She wouldn’t listen though. As she stormed out of the room, Julie dissolved in tears. How could she have done this? She’d blown it. The hours of studying, thinking, plotting, planning – all for nothing. She’d thought she was so smart, as usual. A veritable mastermind. But now, with one simple false move, everything was in ruins.

  CHAPTER 40

  For months Cora watched from a distance while her father attended James’s midnight rituals with the rest of his ragtag bunch of losers. She followed them out most nights, scoffing at James’s ridiculous words even as they sank ever deeper into her psyche. They were absurd, inane, sometimes obviously concocted on the spot. He contradicted himself over and over again. Yet there was a compelling element to it that Cora could not deny. Perhaps it was his voice, his stance, his blazing eyes, or his fiery tongue. Whatever it was, it drew her in even as she pushed it away.

  To make matters worse, the camp buzzed with talk about this newfangled cult. It brought excitement to their dreary mundane lives and at once bound the small community together and split it apart over whether to join or to dismiss it as a joke. Cora’s ears perked up when she heard the talk, but she wouldn’t engage in it, shrugging her shoulders and moving away when asked directly what she thought.

  Two of the older women had sewn the congregants robes made from fabric scraps collected door-to-door. Everywhere she turned, the patchwork drones were poking around, distributing pamphlets or silently handing out lit candles with a show of earnestness. Her father looked like an idiot rendering these servile tasks, but what came out of his mouth was worse, a garbled mix of half-baked religious notions formed with a weak understanding of theology and a misplaced reliance on astrology. Cora wasn’t buying any of it.

  And yet.

  James had come around to their trailer a few times after his initial visit. It was always the same.

  ‘Come tonight, Caroline. Hear me lecture. I promise you won’t be disappointed.’ She shook her head.

  As much as she resisted, though, it felt as if they were connected by an endless length of rope that tightened up when he came near, drawing her down into a fathomless hole that would swallow her up. Her heart felt sick when he approached, even as she played the deaf mute, focusing on insignificant acts, repairing their generator, hanging out washing, skimming the self-help book she’d borrowed from the woman next door. In short, using any and every ploy to avoid him. She’d lose herself if she weren’t careful.

  She needed to think. She needed to get away. And so she walked, for hours, for miles, as far away from his orbit as she could go.

  One hot August day she strayed farther than usual when black clouds began to gather in the sky above. A storm was coming, the routine afternoon drenching that would move on after half an hour. She stole into a crumbling shed at the edge of a freshly mown field to wait it out, nearly jumping out of her skin at the first clap of thunder.

  Across the landscape, a shape moved toward her. She swallowed, recognizing his loping gait and the tic of his twitching right hand. She tucked her body into the shed away from the doorframe, making herself as small as possible. He would head for the same shelter. It was inevitable. She cursed herself for not timing it better.

  He picked up the pace as huge droplets fell from the sky, spattering against the tin roof above her. Then he ran.

  She braced herself for confrontation.

  He ducked his head in beneath the low entryway and found a clear spot on the dirt floor. He didn’t even glance in her direction because he knew exactly who was here. He’d been following her. Of course, she should have known. He probably shadowed her every day, waiting for his moment. She knew then that it had been a mistake to resist him so openly. It only tantalized him, turned her into bait. Now he would never rest until he had her.

  She looked away from him, one hand in her mouth as she chewed on her fingernails, the other twisting at her hair.

  ‘That’s a disgusting habit,’ he said sharply. Not his usual teasing tone.

  She jumped and sat up straight.

  ‘I didn’t ask you,’
she replied as she dropped the offending hand to her lap, staring directly ahead at the deteriorating boards, wondering if she should pick up and run despite the storm. But something compelled her to stay. Something weak and terrible within her.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you.’ His voice was so sure. He knew he had her full attention.

  ‘No kidding.’

  ‘It’s serious, Car-o-line.’

  She said nothing, but relaxed a bit now that the cajoling tenor of his voice had returned. He sat, leaning against the opposite wall, his knees bent in front of him.

  ‘I’ve been picking up strong vibrations from you,’ he said with utter seriousness.

  She could feel him staring.

  ‘Right,’ she replied, rolling her eyes.

  ‘And I understand something about you.’ He waited for a minute, but when she steadfastly failed to respond, he carried on.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so cavalier, Caroline. Not when you’ve done what you’ve done. I know who you are. You’ve committed a terrible act, and you can’t live with yourself.’

  She twisted to face him, her eyes squinting in disgust. She didn’t want to let him rile her but she could feel her temper flaring out of her control.

  ‘Leave me alone. Can’t you just get out of here? The rain is stopping.’ She peered through the doorway. It poured down harder than ever.

  He glanced out at the deluge and smiled a slow smile.

  ‘You’re feeling very guilty. Wondering what kind of horrible person you are. But at the same time, mostly hoping you’ll never get caught. Feeling that you might be, just maybe, a little bit –’ He paused for effect.

  She glanced up at him, unable to overcome her curiosity.

  ‘Evil,’ he completed.

  She shivered. It was the damp that made her cold.

  ‘You see, Car-o-line, this is where I can help you. My philosophy – let’s call it that since you are not “cut out” for religion – can help you put your acts into perspective. Help you understand what you were destined for and what you weren’t. I think once you have absorbed my Revelation, you’ll feel much better. It will be an enormous … relief.’