Under the Blood Tree Read online

  Under the Blood Tree

  PJ Grondin

  Published by PD House Holdings, LLC

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2017 by PJ Grondin

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017943701

  www.pjgrondin.com

  [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-0-9984644-5-9

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to children who are forced to grow up too fast, who are unable to enjoy their childhood because of circumstances forced on them by others. Kids should have the opportunity to just be kids.

  Acknowledgements

  As usual, my dear wife, Debbie, deserves a medal for putting up with me while this story developed from just a thought to a finished product. She is a saint and a patient woman. I am truly blessed.

  Next, the idea for the Blood Tree was born from the childhood stories of my good friend and colleague, Randy Dively. Randy, like me, was a U.S. Navy Submariner. We worked side-by-side in the electric shop at Davis-Besse Nuclear Power Station, Oak Harbor, Ohio. Randy was one of the most knowledgeable people I have ever known. He was also a hard worker, willing to take on the most challenging tasks. Away from work, he pursued leisure activities with a passion. He was a loving husband, father, brother, and son. He succumbed to cancer on September 23, 2015 after a long, tough battle. He was 50 years young.

  Many thanks to Elizabeth Love from Bee-Edited. Excellent job, as usual.

  Under the Blood Tree

  Prologue

  Thursday, August 26, 1999

  10:55 PM

  A distant lightning flash lit up the western night sky as four boys frantically ran through the wooded acreage bordering Cypress Lake Mobile Home Park. The stagnant, humid, summer air, combined with a temperature near ninety degrees, drenched their skin with sweat. Adrenaline flooded their young bodies, heightening the fear that caused them to race through the woods. To the northwest, along the storm front, thunder rumbled. Directly overhead, a full moon and an array of stars were visible. They headed towards the place they knew as their home base, their hiding place, their outdoor club. They knew they could take refuge under their tree.

  Billy Ray Duke, the youngest of the four by just a year, yelled in his high-pitched, panicked, southern drawl, “Wait up! Hey, wait up!”

  Tommy Alexander, the unofficial leader of the group, yelled back, “We’re almost there! Come on, keep runnin’!”

  The lightning flashes were roughly half a minute apart. The booming sounds of thunder rumbled off in the distance. Tommy hoped that the storm was headed their way, praying that a heavy rain would wash away any signs that he and his friends had been to Cypress Lake that evening.

  Just fifty more yards now and Tommy would be the first to arrive safely at the tree. Andy Pepperdine was close behind, followed by Curtis Hardy. Billy Ray brought up the rear.

  Tommy arrived at the tree. He wiped his face with his arm and noticed blood, mixed with his sweat. He felt his nose, then along his cheek, and found the spot where he had caught a branch in the face, a small cut oozing red. His lungs burned from exertion after running full tilt for a quarter-mile.

  Andy Pepperdine arrived at the tree as Tommy worked to catch his breath. He noticed the trickle of blood on Tommy’s face. “Looks like ya got whipped with a branch.” He paused, taking deep, sucking breaths. “It don’t look too bad.”

  Tommy leaned against the tree, his sweat mixed with blood. “You got a couple cuts on your arms.”

  As Andy took more deep breaths, he looked down at both arms, inspecting the minor damage. There was no flowing blood, but he had numerous scratches. He motioned towards Tommy’s arms and said, “So do you.”

  Curtis Hardy ran up and dropped to his knees on the damp leaves that covered the ground near their tree. He put one hand on the tree and continued to breathe deep, sweat dripping from his chin. He kept looking down, his eyes unfocused, deep in thought. He said nothing and didn’t appear to notice the scratches on his arms and another on his forehead. Like Andy, nothing was bleeding, but the scratches would sting over the next few days. He didn’t look up at Tommy or Andy, but just kept up the deep, sucking gasps, fighting to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible.

  Finally, Billy Ray Duke broke into the clearing under the tree. He fell to his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. As he watched the ground in front of him, he saw blood drip from his nose onto a leaf…then another, and seconds later, another. He screamed, “I’m bleeding! Daggummit, I’m bleeding!”

  Tommy, whose breathing was now less labored, squatted down next to him and put his left hand on his back. “Billy Ray, calm down. Y’all’s gonna be fine. Lemme see what’s bleedin’.”

  Billy Ray leaned back on his haunches and looked up at his friend. A short gash, about three-quarters of an inch long, was right between his eyebrows. The cut was at a slight angle, higher on the left side. It bled steadily, a drop of blood hitting the ground every second.

  Tommy said, “Take off yer tee shirt. Hold it against yer hard-assed head. It’ll stop in a few minutes.”

  The boys fell silent, replaying the last twenty minutes over in their heads. They all knew it was going to change their lives – perhaps forever.

  * * *

  Nearly thirty-five minutes earlier, Tommy was the first to hear the cries. The night air had been still, just as it was now. The only sounds heard at their hide-out were crickets, the occasional passing car on Cypress Lake Road, and faint country music coming from a trailer at the mobile home park over two hundred yards to the northeast. Tommy had hushed his friends.

  “Y’all be quiet.” After a long pause, Tommy cocked his head so his right ear was towards the lake. He heard it again. “Didj’all hear it?”

  Andy Pepperdine asked, “What’re ya talking about? I didn’t hear nuthin’.”

  “Me neither.” Billy Ray stood, cupping his hands around his ears, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary.

  Then they all heard it; someone crying, the sobs carrying a long distance over the quiet, night air. As they listened, lightning again flashed in the distance followed nearly ten seconds later by distant, rolling thunder. When the low-level boom from the thunder subsided, they heard the crying again.

  Tommy said, “We got to see whose cryin’. Come on, follow me.”

  The four boys headed out towards the lake. As they made their way through the woods, the crying grew louder. They had gone some five hundred yards, through thickets of trees and brush, when they came to Cypress Lake Road, which separated the woods and the trailer park from Cypress Lake. They crouched low, looking up and down the road for any traffic. There were no headlights in sight. It was past 10:00 PM. The sunset was long gone, but a full moon cast an eerie, silver film over the lake’s glass-like surface. The distant storm contrasted with the clear sky overhead.

  The crying was very clear now. There were no homes within two hundred yards. A crude access road led down to the lake’s shore. A gate, that had previously been closed and secured with a chain and padlock, sat wide open, the padlock broken for as long as the boys could remember. They had regularly used the road to go to
the lake and catch tadpoles and frogs.

  Tommy’s three friends looked to him for direction. Sensing their apprehension, Tommy had stood up. “Let’s go.”

  They trotted down the path towards the edge of the lake, the sobs now mixed with whimpering. “Help me. Please, help me.”

  The path ended at a stand of trees by the lake’s edge. The trees hid any view of this stretch of shoreline from the road. The bright, full moon cast shadows from the trees onto the water’s surface.

  The foursome approached the trees slowly. When they were within fifty feet, they saw a young girl, about their age, leaning against a car’s rear bumper. The front end of the car faced the lake and was near the water’s edge. They couldn’t tell the make or model of the car, but all four boys had immediately recognized the girl.

  Carly Sue Saxon had not noticed the boys approaching until they were within fifteen feet. Even in the dark of night, with the moonlight blocked by the trees, Tommy saw her anguish. Her clothes and face were a dirty mess. The boys stopped just ten feet away.

  When there was a brief break in her crying, Tommy spoke. “Carly Sue?”

  She jumped to her feet and covered her mouth.

  Tommy said, “It’s just us, Carly Sue. We heard ya cryin’. Are ya alright?”

  She knew the four boys, though she knew Billy Ray best. Billy Ray’s trailer was just one hundred feet from the trailer where Carly Sue lived.

  She stood, turned towards the car, then back at the boys. In a quivering, scared voice, she said, “Help me, please.”

  Tommy, confusion written on his face, took a few tentative steps towards her and asked, “What do ya want us ta do?”

  She turned to the car and paused. “Push it into the lake.”

  Tommy frowned. He thought What? With disbelief in his voice, he asked, “Push what into the lake? That car?” The other three boys laughed, then stopped when they realized that she was dead serious.

  Carly Sue said nothing, but nodded her head. She had her hands folded in front of her as if praying to the boys, or to God. Tommy couldn’t tell which. Even though the temperature had to be near ninety degrees, she was shivering.

  Tommy scratched his head then turned to his friends. After a pause he said, “Y’all heard the lady. Let’s push this wreck into the lake.”

  The four boys got behind the bumper and started to push as hard as they could, but the car wouldn’t budge. Carly Sue moved in between Tommy and Andy and began pushing with all her might. The body of the car rose then settled back on the frame, but remained stationary. Tommy thought, This thing’s still in gear. I’ll fix that.

  He walked around to the driver’s side door. The window was down and the odor of urine and feces hit him like a brick. He held his nose and looked through the open window. The body of a man was in the driver’s seat, blood crusted on the side of his head.

  He turned away from the car, nausea hammering his stomach. He wretched twice and threw up his dinner next to the front of the car.

  Andy ran to his side. “What’s the matter, Tommy?” Then his nose was assaulted by the odor and he saw the body. Curtis and Billy Ray came around the car and saw what caused Tommy to lose his dinner. They all stood in fear, then looked back at Carly Sue who started to cry loudly again. Tommy knew that he had to quiet her or they would all be in big trouble.

  He wiped his face off with his arm and raced around the car to the crying young girl. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her square to face him. He begged her to quiet down, assuring her that they’d help her. He didn’t know why she needed to hide that body, but trusted that it had to be important.

  After half a minute, Carly Sue quieted down. Tommy put the car in neutral, and the five children pushed with all their might. At first the car moved slowly. Once the front end was in the water, it seemed to float and pushing the car became easier. Finally, the car was fully into the lake. They gave the vehicle a final push. It floated for fifty, seventy, one hundred feet.

  Carly Sue started crying again. Tommy asked, “What’s the matter now, Carly Sue?”

  “It ain’t sinkin’. Somebody’s gonna see it floatin’ out there.”

  As if on cue, bubbles started coming up around the sides of the car. It drifted out another fifty feet then disappeared from sight. All five children gave a big sigh of relief. The gravity of what they had just done began to dawn on them.

  Tommy turned to Carly Sue and said, “Y’all go on home now. We’ll walk ya to the road, then yer on yer own.”

  When Carly Sue left them and headed towards Cypress Lake Mobile Home Park, Tommy turned to his friends and said, “We gotta get outta here.”

  As they rose to head across the road, the headlights of a car shown as it came around a curve. The boys crouched back down, staying out of sight. As the car passed, they saw the rack lights on top of the car and the shield of the Bulloch County Sheriff’s Department on the door. The car passed, but it seemed to take forever. When the tail lights were finally out of sight, they ran. And they kept running until they gathered at the tree.

  * * *

  “What’re we gonna do?”

  Curtis Hardy asked the question that was on each of their minds. He was still on his knees, looking at the ground in front of him, trying to catch his breath.

  They all looked at Tommy. He was supposed to have all the answers. Tommy had decided they should find the source of the crying. Tommy decided they should help Carly Sue, without question or hesitation. Tommy found the body in the car. And Tommy always knew what to do in tough situations, like when they threw a baseball and broke old lady Crider’s trailer window.

  But this…this was something completely different, and they all knew it.

  Tommy looked at his friends, noted the fear in their eyes, the anticipation of hearing his solution to their situation.

  In that moment, Tommy knew that their days of innocence were over.

  He drew out his knife. He told his friends to get their knives out as well. He scraped a section of bark from their tree. The fresh wood oozed sticky sap.

  He turned to his friends. They all had their knives in hand. He said, “We ain’t never gonna to talk ‘bout this again. That’s what we’re gonna do. And we’re gonna pledge with our blood, right here on our tree.”

  He looked hard at his friends. He saw fear and doubt. There were questions in their eyes, but none on their lips. Then he saw resolve.

  Tommy said, “Take y’all’s knives and make a cut on yer hand then place yer hand on the tree in that spot.” He pointed to the bare spot that he had just created on the tree. “When ya do, say I pledge that I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ ‘bout this night the rest of my life. And ya darn sure better mean it.” He looked at his friends again. “Are y’all ready?”

  The three boys took a deep breath and nodded.

  Tommy started. He placed the tip of his knife in the palm of his hand and applied a little pressure. A bead of blood popped up. He placed his palm on the tree then pulled it back. A one-inch circle of blood remained.

  Next, Andy Pepperdine repeated what Tommy had done. Then Curtis Hardy.

  It was Billy Ray Duke’s turn. Billy Ray was nervous. When he put the tip of his knife to his palm, he put too much pressure on his knife and cut into his palm, leaving a one-inch gash. Blood flowed freely from the wound. Even so, he placed his hand on the bare spot on the tree over top of the other’s blood.

  Tommy gave Billy Ray a nervous smile. “Between yer head and yer hand, ya might bleed to death. Use yer shirt on yer hand now. I think yer head’s about sealed up.”

  Billy Ray didn’t laugh or smile. Unlike his three friends, he was pretty sure that he knew why there was a dead body in the car that was now at the bottom of Cypress Lake. He looked up at the mixed blood on the tree and hoped the body would remain there for eternity.

  Chapter 1

  Sixteen Years Later

  Friday, May 29, 2015

  7:45 AM

  Tommy Alexander stood in front of the k
itchen sink, staring out the window but seeing nothing in his back yard. He was in a trance, a hot cup of black coffee in his right hand. Worry exaggerated the lines on his face. He wrapped his left hand around the mug, its warmth soothing to the small scar on his left palm. He did not see his children’s fancy wooden play set that would rival some city parks, or the patio, or the shed, where he stored his top-of-the-line lawn equipment. He also didn’t see his white privacy fence, or the second floor of his closest neighbor’s home. It was like he was staring at a movie screen, the images running through his mind.

  The kitchen television droned on in the background, one of the national network’s morning news programs reporting the drought’s severity in the southeast. They mentioned Central Georgia as being hit particularly hard, the screen filled with images of parched earth, dead crops, and farmers tilling under the dry, brown, vegetation that remained. Reporters interviewed a number of family-farm owners, discussing the financial dire straits that they faced because of the total loss of crops this year. This year’s drought, coupled with last year’s crop loss due to torrential rain, left many farmers near bankruptcy. Some already faced foreclosure, their land and equipment auctioned off. In some cases, the land had been in the family for generations. The heartbreak was punctuated by tears flowing from grown men’s eyes, facing extraordinary pressure to keep their farms, and their families, afloat.

  Tommy didn’t hear any of it. He wasn’t concerned about money. At twenty-eight years old, he was quite successful as an independent insurance salesman. His family’s net worth surpassed one million dollars, all of it through hard work and dedication to his business. Their home, a thirty-nine hundred square foot, two-story gem in the Irongate subdivision, was among the nicer homes in the upscale neighborhood southwest of Statesboro, Georgia.