Page 92 of Fallen

“Please don’t do this,” I say.

“Greeyah ruff.” Get up. There’s no rage or high passion in his voice—just the steel resolve of a man who expects complete submission.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say.

Bending, he hauls me to my feet and shoves me toward the wagon. “Gay.” Go.

When I don’t move fast enough, he shoves me in the direction of the wagon. “Keep walking.”

We leave the cover of trees. I listen for a distant siren. The rumble of an engine. Where the hell is Skid?

Ahead, I see Loretta standing near the wagon, looking around, her hands on her hips. “Dumla,” she says. Hurry.

I slow, stalling, but Ben shoves me again.

Only then do I recognize where we are. We’ve left the Bontrager property and entered adjacent land upon which a two-room Amish school once stood. I attended school here. A few years ago, a tornado leveled the structure. The only thing left is the decrepit foundation and stone chimney. Beyond, there’s a gravel two-track that continues on for another half mile or so, eventually opening onto County Road 60.

Why the hell have they brought me here?

“Bring her.” The Amish woman strides past the foundation to an area overrun with high grass and the spindly stalks of last year’s weeds.

“Walk.” Ben shoves my shoulder again.

I have no idea what they have planned or hope to accomplish. What are my options? Appeal to reason? Their Amish mores? Threaten them with the consequences of their actions? Losing custody of their daughter?

Loretta stops next to the stump of a long-dead tree. I’ve been here before, I realize. The school outhouse once stood on this very spot. The only thing left is the pit, where the refuse was stored and removed.

Uneasiness quivers in my gut at the sight of the pit. It’s about five feet deep with crumbling cinder-block walls choked with roots and tangled with weeds. A huge pile of freshly excavated dirt is next to the pit. Someone has recently taken a shovel to it, cleared out most of the debris and earth.

“This is not the way we wanted to do this,” Loretta whispers.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I say. “It’ll only make things worse for you. For Fannie.”

“You should have let things lie.” Ben says the words as if he didn’t hear me. “You’ve left us no choice. Whatever happens here today is between you and God.”

I’d been working under the assumption that I’d be able to talk them out of whatever crazy scheme they’d hatched. For the first time it occurs to me they didn’t bring me here to convince me of their cause. I’m in danger. The ripple of fear that follows is so powerful that the ground trembles beneath my feet.

“I know what we are about to do is a sin against God,” Ben says. “That we will go to hell for it. But I will not let them take Fannie.”

My heart begins to pound. If I were to be pushed into the pit, I’m pretty sure I could eventually climb out, even with my wrists bound. In the back of my mind, I wonder if he’s going to pull out the .38 and kill me and then push all that dirt into the pit.…

“You have brought the wrath of the Lord down upon yourself,” Loretta says. “You are eevil.” Evil. “You are a threat. Not only to us and our daughter’s life. But everything that is decent and good—”

I launch myself toward the trees. Ben lunges so quickly, I don’t have time to brace. He shoves me with so much force that I fly sideways and plummet into the pit. I hit the ground so hard that the breath is knocked from my lungs.

I roll, spit dirt, try to suck in a breath of air. I struggle to my knees, look up in time to see the shovel. I duck, avoid the blow, but it’s so close I feel the puff of air against my face.

Holding the shovel like a bat, Ben swings again. Purpose etched into his features. Lips drawn back. I lunge sideways, but I’m not fast enough. The blade grazes the top of my head with enough force to open the skin. I feel the warm trickle of blood.

“Don’t do this!” I shout. “Think of Fannie! She needs you!”

Staying low, watching for the shovel, I look around for a way out. A place where the wall isn’t vertical. A foothold, a broken cinder block or root or jut of rebar. The pit is about five feet square, the muddy floor littered with dead vegetation and loose dirt.

Ben jabs the shovel at me again. I’m far enough below him that I’m able to get out of the way and he misses again. I stumble to the opposite side of the pit, spot the jut of root. I rush to it, step up on it, press my shoulder against the wall to keep my balance. If I can find another foothold, I might be able to wriggle high enough to escape.…

The shovel strikes the side of my head with so much force that I’m knocked off my perch. I hear the tink! of the blade strike my skull. The zing of pain down the side of my face. Then I’m falling into space and the darkness swallows me whole.

CHAPTER 40