Read Online Skeleton Man by Joseph Bruchac - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Bruchac
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âThereâs no time. Get away!â
âNo, Dad, not yet,â I whisper. And as I say it I feel a certainty and strength like Iâve never felt before. I know what I have to do and I am going to do it.
Iâve got the bolt cutter out now. I maneuver it around to the lock that holds the grating andpress down with all my strength. The jaws of the bolt cutter shear through the steel, as if it was butter. Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine.
âRun,â Dad says again. âNow!â
âThe falls, Dad,â I whisper. âYou know the place.â
I push the bolt cutter and every other tool I have in my bag through the grating. Iâve lost count now. I donât know if thereâs enough time. Iâm sure that by now he will have gone upstairs to my room. But the way he moved like a cat, so fast, makes me uncertain now how long heâll take.
Iâm through the hidden door, the door of the toolshed is ahead of me. But I donât go through it straight. I duck and twist as I come out, and itâs a good thing because he is there waiting in the darkness and he almost grabs me. His bony fingers slip through the loose braid in my hair. I scream and yank and Iâm free. I go around the house toward the road. Just as I expected, he has gone around the other side to cut me off. He thinks Iâm going to run toward town, toward other houses because his is the last house on the road. Heâs wrong. Iâm going the other way, running fast. Running and running.
I venture a quick look back to see where heis. He isnât far behind me, no more than fifty yards. The moonlight glitters off his white forehead. Suddenly a rabbit darts out of the bushes and crosses in front of him, making him stumble. I gain another twenty yards, running and running. Looking back will only slow me down. I wonât risk that again. I feel the strength of that story from long ago in my legs. I wonât get tired.
I run and run and keep running. I have gone at least a mile now. The lake glitters in the moonlight off to my right and the Visitorsâ Center is just ahead of me, but thereâs no time now to use the phone. I pass the sign for the park, turn onto the trail, and begin to climb. I can no longer hear him behind me. This is my territory now. Iâm sure I know it better than the one chasing me.
But I donât. I round the corner where the trail is narrow and the cliff falls off to the right. He is there ahead of me, cutting me off. There is a grin on his skeletal face, and his long arms are spread wide as if in welcome.
16
Escape
Y OU CANâT escape me,â he says in a hollow voice, a taunting voice. âCan you, little niece?â
If I try to answer him, Iâll be done for. It would be like a mouse trying to argue with an owl. Instead I throw my backpack at him and, as he staggers back a step, I scramble up the slope off the trail into the brush. The trail edge is thick with blackberry bushes. They scratch at my hands and my face. Dead thorns stick through my jeans into my knees. But I get low, as low as a rabbit, and I crawl through and under the brush.
He canât. I hear him being held back by the thorny branches. I crawl until I find a clear area, then I stand up and move as quickly as I can along the dark, wooded slope. I roll my feet as I step like Dad taught me so that I donât make much sound. Then I stop and listen. I donât hear anything for a few heartbeats and thenâ¦
âWhooooo!â Itâs like the cry of an owl just below me on the trail. But itâs not an owl, even though it makes me want to jump like a little mouse being scared out of hiding. âWhoooo!â Skeleton Man calls again. âIâm waiting for youuu. I will get youuuuuu.â
I donât move. Iâll sit here all night if I have to. I wonât let him scare me into showing myself. Silence. Nothing but silence for a long time. Too much silence,
âNo, Dad, not yet,â I whisper. And as I say it I feel a certainty and strength like Iâve never felt before. I know what I have to do and I am going to do it.
Iâve got the bolt cutter out now. I maneuver it around to the lock that holds the grating andpress down with all my strength. The jaws of the bolt cutter shear through the steel, as if it was butter. Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine.
âRun,â Dad says again. âNow!â
âThe falls, Dad,â I whisper. âYou know the place.â
I push the bolt cutter and every other tool I have in my bag through the grating. Iâve lost count now. I donât know if thereâs enough time. Iâm sure that by now he will have gone upstairs to my room. But the way he moved like a cat, so fast, makes me uncertain now how long heâll take.
Iâm through the hidden door, the door of the toolshed is ahead of me. But I donât go through it straight. I duck and twist as I come out, and itâs a good thing because he is there waiting in the darkness and he almost grabs me. His bony fingers slip through the loose braid in my hair. I scream and yank and Iâm free. I go around the house toward the road. Just as I expected, he has gone around the other side to cut me off. He thinks Iâm going to run toward town, toward other houses because his is the last house on the road. Heâs wrong. Iâm going the other way, running fast. Running and running.
I venture a quick look back to see where heis. He isnât far behind me, no more than fifty yards. The moonlight glitters off his white forehead. Suddenly a rabbit darts out of the bushes and crosses in front of him, making him stumble. I gain another twenty yards, running and running. Looking back will only slow me down. I wonât risk that again. I feel the strength of that story from long ago in my legs. I wonât get tired.
I run and run and keep running. I have gone at least a mile now. The lake glitters in the moonlight off to my right and the Visitorsâ Center is just ahead of me, but thereâs no time now to use the phone. I pass the sign for the park, turn onto the trail, and begin to climb. I can no longer hear him behind me. This is my territory now. Iâm sure I know it better than the one chasing me.
But I donât. I round the corner where the trail is narrow and the cliff falls off to the right. He is there ahead of me, cutting me off. There is a grin on his skeletal face, and his long arms are spread wide as if in welcome.
16
Escape
Y OU CANâT escape me,â he says in a hollow voice, a taunting voice. âCan you, little niece?â
If I try to answer him, Iâll be done for. It would be like a mouse trying to argue with an owl. Instead I throw my backpack at him and, as he staggers back a step, I scramble up the slope off the trail into the brush. The trail edge is thick with blackberry bushes. They scratch at my hands and my face. Dead thorns stick through my jeans into my knees. But I get low, as low as a rabbit, and I crawl through and under the brush.
He canât. I hear him being held back by the thorny branches. I crawl until I find a clear area, then I stand up and move as quickly as I can along the dark, wooded slope. I roll my feet as I step like Dad taught me so that I donât make much sound. Then I stop and listen. I donât hear anything for a few heartbeats and thenâ¦
âWhooooo!â Itâs like the cry of an owl just below me on the trail. But itâs not an owl, even though it makes me want to jump like a little mouse being scared out of hiding. âWhoooo!â Skeleton Man calls again. âIâm waiting for youuu. I will get youuuuuu.â
I donât move. Iâll sit here all night if I have to. I wonât let him scare me into showing myself. Silence. Nothing but silence for a long time. Too much silence,
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