The Hanging Wives of New England by Ellis Brightwell

Author:Ellis Brightwell [Brightwell, Ellis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781736982716
Publisher: Winter Blood Moon Harvest Publishing
Published: 2021-04-11T22:00:00+00:00

7

Hills

“Alyssa Lively,” said Ford as he dropped us off in the hills overlooking the sea. “Twenty-four years old. Master’s in Research and Experimental Psychology from Bates College. Second child of three. Unmarried, debt-free. Talkative. Friendly. Too friendly, perhaps, but in retrospect, I think I would have learned to live with it. I hope that helps you make peace.”

Lily took her gun from her waistband and checked the magazine.

“Got any bullets to help me make peace?” she said.

“Unfortunately, we do not possess ammunition for anything smaller than a rifle,” said Ford.

Lily slid the top part of the gun toward her. It got stuck halfway and wouldn’t slide back into place no matter how much she smacked it or swore at it.

“Maybe I should name my gun after you, Ford,” she said. “I think I’ll call it The Agent. You know why?”

“Out of an appreciation for the fine service it provides you under difficult circumstances?”

“No, because it doesn’t do shit and you can’t fire it.”

She tossed her gun to the ground. The impact knocked its sliding mechanism back into place. Ford picked it up with both hands as if it were a laboratory specimen.

“I am not authorized to use or carry firearms,” he said, “but I would advise you to keep it on your person should you locate ammunition such as that found in the bait and tackle shop near the docks frequented by active fishermen. We have reports that they’ve been going out into the water without arousing the antagonism of the hostile entity. You might find the answers you’re looking for there.”

Lily snatched the gun from him and shoved it into her skirt.

“Thanks for not being completely useless,” she said.

“And thank you for your valuable opinion,” said Ford. “This is where we part ways. Best of luck to you.”

His black van disappeared down the winding road. Lily flicked the barrette on her wrist against her skin.

“So,” she said, “are you still hellbent on staring into the abyss?”

“I don’t want anyone else to have to do the same.”

“Fantastic.”

Snow blanketed sloping hills and steep ridges dotted with leafless oaks and elms. In the distance, one scraggly tree branch bore a doll-like figure hanging from a rope. I pointed it out to Lily. She muttered and shook her head.

“What do you think it is?” I said. “Another warning sign? Some creature that lives in the mountains?”

“Probably just a scarecrow,” she said. She frowned and stamped her pumps in the snow as she hugged herself. “Maybe it keeps the shambling dead away. I know I don’t want to have anything to do with it. Let’s go find someplace warm. Or at least somewhere that’s not so damn cold. How much snow are we supposed to get, anyways?”

“Enough to cancel school and keep the buses off the road,” I said.

“Then let’s hope we can make it to the docks without pissing anyone off,” she said. “Or anything.”

Paved lanes snaked through sweeping, rocky hills that had been dynamited into submission fifty years ago by the local mining company.

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