Prologue

“You stay here, River. Got it?”

Turning up the air-conditioner in the truck, I nodded and signed, Got it.

Slamming the driver’s side door, my pop and the prospect headed off into the woods, the first body bag of the four dead Mexicans being carried by them. Waiting until they were all out of sight I jumped out of the truck, my feet making a crunching sound as they hit the dried grass.

Tipping my head back, I breathed deep. I loved being outdoors, loved being on the back of my pop’s bike, loved being anywhere away from people expecting me to talk.

Making my way toward the bed of the truck, I snapped a long spindly branch off a nearby cedar and began whacking the reeds around me just for something to do. Sending stiffs to the boatman could take hours—digging, lime, and cover-up—so I made my way toward the trees and set to searching for snakes in the high grass.

I don’t know how long I walked, but when I lifted my eyes, I found myself deep in the forest, the air around me completely still and me completely lost.

Shit. Pop’s instructions were as clear as day. “Stay here, River. Got it?” Hell, he was gonna kill me if he had to come looking. The rules for dumping stiffs were simple: dig, dump, dodge.

Searching around me, I spotted a rise and headed for higher ground. I intended to work my way back to the truck before my pop turned up and got pissed.

Using the trunks of the trees to hold on to, I climbed the steep hill and, when I reached the top, began dusting the dried mud and bark scum from my jeans. When they were sorta clean, I scanned the horizon and frowned. About two hundred yards ahead was the biggest goddamn fence. My mouth dropped at its size; it was higher and wider than anything I’d ever seen before. It reminded me of prison, with curls of razor wire wrapped ’round the top wall. I looked all ’round me, but there were no signs of life, nothing to be seen behind the fence but more forest. I wondered what it was. We were deep in the boonies, miles and miles from the outskirts of Austin, miles and miles from anywhere. Folks don’t really come this far outta town… they know better. My pop said only bad things happen ’round these parts: death, disappearances, violence and other unexplainable things. It’d been that way for years; that’s why my pop chose it as a drop site.

Now completely distracted from finding a route back to the truck, I began wading through tall grasses toward the edge of the fence. Curious excitement buzzed through me. I loved to go exploring, but then I jumped out of my skin when, suddenly, something behind the fence caught my eye.

Someone was there.

I froze, focusing my eyes on the outline of a tiny slim person, the small frame of a young chick dressed in a long white dress, her hair loose as they waves alongside the minty breeze.

She looked ’bout my age. Maybe a couple ’a years younger?

Heart beating fast in my chest, I crept toward the chick, her tiny, frail-looking body hugging herself as she sat there traumatised. Her shoulders were shaking as she cried, her body shuddering with sobs, but not making a sound.

Dropping to my knees, I threaded my fingers through the links of the fence and stared. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t—couldn’t—speak to anyone but Kyler and Pop. Even then it weren’t often.

I focused my eyes, concentrating on trying to loosen up my throat, fighting to free the words that never wanted to come. A battle I always tried to fight but one I rarely won.

Dropping my mouth, I set to relaxing my face muscles when the tiny chick froze on the spot and her eyes locked on mine. I stumbled back, my fingers slipping back through the fence. She had huge, blue eyes rimmed with red marks. Her small hand moved to her face to wipe at her wet cheeks, atleast attempted to; her bottom lip quivered and her chest heaved hard.

From my new position, I could see her hair was as orange as orange?? and her skin so pale. I’d never seen no one like her before. Then again, I didn’t know many kids my own age; no one did in club life. There was Kyler, of course, but he was my best friend, my club brother.

Suddenly, the chick panicked; her face blanched, she shot to her feet, and her head turned back toward the forest. I scrambled to the fence again at her movement, the metal screeching at the contact. The chick froze and looked back, gripping a branch as she watched me.

Who are you? I signed real fast. The girl swallowed nervously and tilted her head. Cautiously, she edged forward in silence, curiosity etched on her tiny face. She was staring at my hands, watching me sign, her light eyebrows pulled down real low.

The closer she got, the more my breath came short and I felt warm all over. Her creamy orange hair were waving, as she tied them into tight knot covered by a weird white cloth. I’d never seen anyone dressed like her before. She looked so strange.

When she stopped ’bout two yards away, I sucked in a breath, squeezed my stomach muscles tight, and signed again. Who are you?

She didn’t speak, just stared at me blankly. Goddamn it! She didn’t understand ASL(American Sign Language). Not many folks did. I could hear just fine, but I didn’t speak. Ky and Pop were the only folks who could translate for me, and right now I was on my own.

Sucking in another deep breath, I swallowed and tried really hard to work loose my throat. Closing my eyes, I thought through what I wanted to ask and, holding a slow, controlled exhale, I tried my damnedest to talk.

“Wh-wh-who a-are y-y-you?”

As I fell back in shock, my eyes widened. I’d never been able to do that before, speak to a total stranger. My hands fidgeted in excitement. I could talk to this chick! I could talk… that made her number three.

Driven by curiosity, the chick moved closer still. Only a few feet away, she slowly knelt on the forest floor, her head cocked to one side, just staring at me with a funny expression on her face.

Her big blue eyes never once moved away from me. I watched her slowly scan me from head to toe and then back again. I thought about what she must be seeing: my dark, messy hair, black jacket and jeans, heavy black boots, and leather cuffs on my wrists showing the Hangmen patch.

As her eyes met mine once more, her lips seemed to curve upward slightly into a small kinda smile. I crooked my finger in her direction, urging her to come closer.

She quickly turned, searching all ’round her. Seeing we were alone, she stood up—slowly, as before—and she inched forward toward me, the bottom of her long dress dirtying on a patch of muddy ground.

Now, as she stood before me, I couldn’t help but notice again how tiny she looked. I was tall, so she had to tilt her neck back to look up at me. As I pressed into the fence, my stomach churned. She looked so tired and her blue eyes winced in the corners as she shuffled toward me, like she was in pain.

SO HELLLOOOO EVERYONE!!! I'M BACK WITH A NEW STORY. THIS ONE WILL BE DIFFERENT FROM THE ONE'S I'VE WRITTEN BEFORE SOO.... ENJOY

Noticing she was uncomfortable, I pointed to the forest floor, indicating we should sit. She nodded her head, lowered her eyes and slowly, painfully, dropped to her knees.

She didn’t make a sound. Hoping for another miracle, I inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. “Wh-what i-is this p-p-p-place? D-d-do you… l-l-live h-here?” I stuttered, occasionally pausing and thinking through my words as I struggled to push them out. A wave of excitement washed through my stomach… I was talking… again!

Her eyes focused on my mouth, but she still kept quiet. Her black eyebrows were pulled tight and her pink lips were pursed in concentration. I knew she was wondering why I talked funny; everyone always did. She would be wondering why I stuttered. I didn’t know. I just always had. Gave up trying to fix it years ago. I talked with my hands now. Didn’t like being laughed at for having a stammer… but she wasn’t laughing at me… not even a little bit. She just looked, well, confused.

As I broke the eye contact in embarrassment,

I noticed her hands were right next to her side of the fence, only inches from mine. Without thinking, I reached through and ran my finger across her knuckles. I just wanted to touch her, make sure she was real. Her skin looked so soft.

With a gasp, she snapped her hand back as if my touch were fire and she cradled it next to her chest.

“I-I-I w-won’t h-hurt y-you,” I croaked as quickly as I could force out, worried about the terror on her face… a face that was the same shape as a heart. I didn’t want her to be scared of me. My pop told me that folks needed to fear me, had to distrust me so I’d be safe. Most folks in my world, I knew, would see my signing as a weakness, so my pop told me I had to toughen up and use my fists instead of words. Now folks just thought I was dangerous. Like Ky said, I was born to be feared: the Hangmen Mute.

But right now I wished more than anything that I could trade all that in just to know how to talk right. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. Not the chick with the blue eyes—blue eyes the color of a wolf’s.

Sitting back in a trance, her wolf eyes drew me in. She looked like a ghost—no, a goddess—like the paintings on the wall at compound. Like the goddess Persephone, wife of Hades, the underworld God the Hangmen wore on their patch.

With a flicker of movement, the girl brought her shaking hand forward to the fence; the ice-blue and white flecks in her irises never broke my gaze, the whites bright as she stared at me.

I stayed completely still. The girl was like a frightened rabbit and I didn’t want to spook her. I’d never seen no one like her, my hands were getting damp and my heart was beating real fast.

Nervously, she ran a fingertip along my hand, a pink blush bursting on her cheeks. I fought to breathe, the too-fast thumping of my heart making me lose focus.

Bending my index finger, I hooked it softly ’round hers and pressed my forehead against the hard mesh wire.

The girl pursed her slightly parted pink lips and wiggled the tip of her nose. I stopped breathing… She was beautiful.

“C-come cl-cl-cl-closer,” I whispered, a hint of desperation in my voice.

Her nose twitched again and I smiled. “Y-you’re so-so b-b-beautiful,” I blurted out, biting my lip as an afterthought. My fists clenched as I grew more and more frustrated with my speech.

She frowned and shook her head and I realized she could understand me. I so badly wanted her to talk back to me.

“Wh-wh-why are y-y-you out h-here a-all a-alone?” The girl began to tremble, the whites of her eyes seeming to take over the blue.

She looked so lost and I wondered what made her that way. I wanted her to feel better, wanted that look on her pretty face to change from sadness to happiness. I didn’t know what to do.

Suddenly, I thought of the brothers at the club and how they made the club girls happy. Before I knew what happened, I quickly leaned in and pressed my lips against hers through the tiny open space of the wire mesh..

Damn this felt so good I want this moment to last forever... Suddenly she loosened the grip of her hand, but I held her even more tightly..I don't want to let go...a painful moan escapes her lips.

Agh!! I just hurt her. I quickly let go and she turns around to run back towards the forest...

“No! Don’t go!” I shouted clearly to her retreating form, but it was too late. I stepped back from the fence, watching the last of her long dress disappear into the darkness of the forest. An empty, sinking feeling almost made my legs stop working, but then my eyes widened and my fingers touched my lips in shock. My speech… my speech for the first time ever was clear and without a stutter… No, don’t go…please..

“River!!!”

I turned quickly, running down the hill toward my pop.

“RIVER!!!”

Pumping my knees higher I pushed through the tall grass, running back to my life—back to my pop; all the time wondering if I’d ever see her again…

…the chick with the wolf eyes

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Twelve years later…

*Salome pov*

Run, run, just keep running…

I willed my tired legs to keep pumping. My muscles burned as though injected with venom and my bare feet were completely numb as they slammed onto the cold hard forest floor, but I would not give up… could not give up.

Breathe, run, just keep moving…

My eyes darted around the dark forest, searching for the disciples. None to be seen, but it was only a matter of time. They would soon realize I was missing. But I could not stay, could not do my pre-ordained duty to the prophet; not after what happened

My lungs burned with the severity of my sharp gasps and my chest heaved with overexertion.

Push through the pain. Run, just run.

Passing the third watchtower, unseen, I let myself feel a momentary sliver of joy—the perimeter fence was not too far away. I allowed myself the hope that I might actually get free.

Then the emergency siren wailed and I shuddered to a stop.

They know. They are coming for me.

I forced my legs to move even faster; thorns and sharp sticks jabbed into the soles of my feet. Gritting my teeth, I told myself, Do not feel pain. Do not feel pain. Think of her.

They could not find me. I could not let them find me. I knew the rules. Never leave. Never attempt to leave. But I was fleeing. I was determined to escape their wickedness once and for all.

Spotting the tall posts of the perimeter fence, my arms pumped with renewed vigor as I made the final steps of my sprint. I smashed against the rigid metal with a crash, the posts grinding at the force of my collision.

I frantically searched for a gap down the fence because there was no way I could jump out of it. It is used for the dog to get out of the fence.

Nothing.

No! Please!

Suddenly the dog claimed my leg mercilessly inside his jaw not letting go, inhaling through my nose, I tried to keep focus; I just needed to loosen the dog’s grip, just a fractional release to let go of my injured left leg. I picked up the nearest object I could come in contact with.

And then it happened.

With the crack of the stone, the incensed canine reared back, shaking its bruised head. I dragged myself free of the shallow gap, my breath coming in short sharp bursts as my body reacted to the shock.

As I shuffled away from the fence, a wry thought sped across my mind; I had actually done it. I am free.

The dog, though groggy and recovering from its hit, lunged for the gap. Once more it snapped its large jaws and sharp teeth and with it, me from my haze. Edging forward, I quickly filled the gap with as much mud as I could gather, then tried to stand, but my injured leg could not take the strain, could not bear my weight. Inside, I cried, Not now! Please, Lord, just give me the strength to keep going.

“Here! She’s here!”

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