The Pawn by Steven James

Author:Steven James
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781441216236
Publisher: Revell
Published: 2007-09-01T05:00:00+00:00

One day after school, Aaron had snuck behind the group home’s south wing to grab a smoke out of sight of the host family’s window. It was April in Mississippi. Hot and steamy. Humidity you could taste.

Just after lighting up, he heard sounds in the nearby woods. Screeches. High-pitched, primal, something other than human.

The noises were coming from a clearing up ahead. Aaron knew the place. The teens would meet there sometimes late at night to drink or smoke pot around a bonfire.

He heard the sound again. What was that?

And then, laughter. Quiet and calm. And a cold voice oozing through the trees. “You like that, don’t you?”

Aaron saw a flicker of movement in the meadow and stepped quietly onto the path.

Another cry, this time sharper. Definitely not human. Some kind of animal.

What was going on?

He had to see.

But then the screech was cut off abruptly, swallowed by a burst of strange, moist, gurgling sounds. “There, now. That’s better,” said the voice.

Aaron edged forward and peered through the underbrush. He was close enough now to see a figure kneeling, working at something with his hands, humming. Whatever he had on the ground in front of him lay hidden from view.

Aaron took another step closer. Who was that? Only his back was visible.

Maybe it was the movement, visible out of the corner of his eye, or the soft sound of footsteps on the forest floor, but the figure stopped what he was doing. Froze. So did Aaron.

Time crashed to a halt. To Aaron the moment smelled like spring rain and flowers and earth and blood, and then the person in the meadow turned his head slowly and rose in one smooth, serpentine motion. Aaron recognized him right away.

“Hello, Aaron.” Sevren was holding a pocketknife smeared with dark blood. More blood dripped from his hands and forearms down onto the leafy forest floor.

Aaron let his eyes follow the descent of the drops of blood. And that’s when he saw what his roommate had done to the cat. Somehow the poor creature was still alive. It flopped what was left of its head back and forth feebly, finally facing Aaron. Tried to look at him. Had no eyes left to do it.

“What are you doing, Sevren?”

“A little experiment.” Sevren cocked his head slightly and shook out his fingers, splattering warm blood onto the young leaves. “You won’t tell, will you?”

For a moment, just a moment, Aaron thought of running. Somewhere deep beneath the gurgles of the dying cat he could hear the sounds of the jungle and the screams and pleading prayers of the dying children. And the babies crying in the dark.

Somewhere beneath the sounds.

The dream called to him. He thought of running from Sevren, from this meadow, from everything, escaping like he had when he was ten, running and running and running forever, but this time he stood still. Something kept him there, drew his eyes toward the gruesome scene.

Sevren’s voice turned dark. “If you tell, Aaron, I might have to explain what happened to Jessica.

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