Hurt by Travis Thrasher

Author:Travis Thrasher [Thrasher, Travis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: young adult, Suspense, High School, Spiritual Warfare, Supernatural, Solitary Tales
ISBN: 9781434764164
Publisher: David C. Cook
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

67. Action

Ever since Jocelyn showed me the group of people meeting in the woods under Marsh Falls that one day, I’ve been curious about them. I’ve thought they were some kind of weird cult that meets and passes around a bowl and mutters strange things to each other.

But that’s when I let my imagination run wild. Because the group meeting is nothing like that. They’re just people getting together to sing and share and listen to somebody give a message. Just like any other church.

Church isn’t about the building, Chris.

Dad once told me that. I’m sure I heard it from someone else too.

I do my best that morning to make sure nobody is watching me when I’m in downtown Solitary. I park my bike and then go into the Corner Nook as I’ve been doing lately to see if there’s anything different or weird that I can spot. Just like always, there’s nothing strange about the bookstore and coffee shop. I order an iced tea, since I’m not a coffee fan, and then casually walk across the street.

Nobody sees me, and nobody follows.

I’m walking down the tracks, remembering that this is where I saw that haunted creepy boxcar. But it’s not there.

Did I ever see it to begin with?

I don’t know how this works. I really don’t. Seeing something one minute and not seeing it the next.

What are the rules and logic to how this “gift” works?

Rules? Logic? Yeah right.

I get to the point where I stop and go into the woods, still checking behind me every few minutes to see if anybody is watching. The barn is there like always, an old and abandoned building at the end of a dirt road.

Just a few cars are parked there. Maybe the people carpool to this hidden church in the woods.

Mr. Meiners greets me when I enter the barn. It’s light enough outside that there’s no need for lights inside the barn. It’s shadowy, but we can see decently enough.

Over the next ten or fifteen minutes, I’m introduced to half a dozen people.

There’s an elderly couple with the last name of Franklin, who supposedly have lived here for years. I wonder what kind of stories they could tell. Then there’s a woman named Tracy who’s older and heavyset and very nervous-looking.

Then someone calls me by name.

“Hi, Chris.”

The dark-haired guy looks familiar and says his name is Jim, but that doesn’t mean anything.

“Mr. Charleton,” he says, adding, “from summer school.”

“Oh yeah,” I say. “Breakfast Club guy.”

He laughs. He seems the same—upbeat and friendly and totally positive.

Of course someone like that is going to show up here. Instead of, say, Mr. Taggart.

“Glad to see you here.”

The last couple I meet turn out to be Oli’s parents.

Oli, or as Sheriff Wells told me last summer, Oliver Mateja. His father is Hispanic and greets me with an accent, but his mother doesn’t appear to be. She’s dark-haired but looks more Italian. They both seem to know me and even seem to be expecting me. Mrs. Mateja gives me a hug and leaves me smelling like her perfume.

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