The Faithful Watcher

The Faithful Watcher

Marilyn McPherson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2010 by Marilyn McPherson

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Books by this author:

A Family Affair

A Family Affair - First Born

A Family Affair - Next of Kin

The Faithful Watcher

Lottie’s Patch

Stray

Note to Reader

Please note that this book is written in Australian English.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Mirko Uhlmann for the brilliant cover image.

Chapter 1

Denver, Colorado, USA

I was riding my new bicycle around the block when it happened. A car approached me from behind and slowed to a stop. I heard the sound of a door opening, followed by hurried footsteps. I turned my head to see what was happening, while also trying to keep both hands on the handle bars. At this precise moment, two strong arms plucked me off the bike and pulled me into a van.

It had happened so quickly. The door of the van was slammed shut by my abductor, and I fell hard against the floor. The van accelerated. There was not even time to scream before the van sped off, carrying me as its prisoner.

My bike, I cried, looking at the closed door.

The stranger suddenly turned to face me. He did not look friendly. He did not seem to care about my new pink bike, which had been a Christmas present from my Dad. It must have slammed into the concrete pavement without its rider.

I did not know how old this man was, but he was large, definitely older than Dad and balding with glasses. He had a round face and there was a strong caustic smell around him and the van. He looked at me with cold, dark eyes and did not say anything.

I felt tears starting to well, which he noticed but did not seem to mind. Then he broke his silence. He had a low voice and whispered each word slowly, looking directly at me. You can cry if you want, little girl. He continued to tell me that I was a gift for someone but his words did not make sense to me.

I tried to block his voice out of my head, but without success. He snickered and came in closer. The touch of his hand was warm, clammy and unwelcome.

All of a sudden the van stopped, and thankfully the man moved away. The side door slid open again and the man who had been driving appeared. He entered the van in one quick move, sliding the door closed behind him. Suddenly I realized what might be happening here. A dreadful realisation washed over me. Maybe the two men were going to hurt me in some way. I had watched the news recently and saw a story about a young girl who was kidnapped by strangers. Mum didn’t usually let me watch the news at night, but I had seen this story with Dad on the weekend when Mum had been out with some friends. My Dad had looked sad when he saw this particular story and he had patted me on the head after it was finished. I was also reminded never to talk to strangers. So, how unfair was it that I had not spoken a word to these men to get their attention?

The two conspirators were whispering and smiling at each other, and one had taken off his jacket. My tears suddenly dried up and my muscles tensed. I did not want to be like that other girl, who was never found. Anger washed over me, like a lingering wave at the shore. These men had no right to have me in their van. This anger built up in me, rippling its own torment and giving my body a strange tingling feeling. My tongue detected something acidic, which seemed strange because I had never before tasted anything like that in my mouth.

Something even stranger then happened. Time seemed to slow down from my perspective. I was completely focussed on the environment around me, sensing each and every movement the men made. It was as if everything else was in slow motion. Maybe only a second passed to the men, but it felt like ten seconds to me. I sensed the anger drain out of my toes, my fingers, my legs and arms. These parts of my body seemed more relaxed. It felt like my energy was being collected, funnelled into my mind somehow. Another second passed, and the anger drained from the rest of my body, again funnelled into my mind, which started burning. There was a sensation of pain and I felt like my mind might explode at any moment. I was confused and scared.

One of the men – the one who had been driving suddenly moved in my direction. How dare he do this to me? I focused all my unspeakable feelings of repulsion and disgust directly at him. My vision blurred slightly and I felt the burning energy leave my mind and bore directly into his chest, like a powerful beam of light.

To my surprise, and obviously his too, he stopped moving and a puzzled expression filled his face. He was about a foot away from me when it happened. He looked down at his chest, and suddenly screamed in agony.

The look on his face showed a complete lack of understanding. He didn’t know why he was hurting, but I could tell that whatever I was doing was stopping him moving closer to me. So I intensified my feelings further. This helped me to feel more in control of the new part of my mind, and I could almost see the beam which was boring into him.

Suddenly his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed onto the floor of the van.

Two things then happened very quickly, before the ‘event’ occurred. The ‘event’ was something which would never be forgotten and which would change my life forever.

One - the man with the strong arms cursed and glared angrily at me after seeing his friend collapse. Two – the beam moved. Well I moved it I guess. I moved it from the collapsed driver to his companion. It wasn’t hard; I just shifted my focus and my feelings to him.

The ‘event’ then took place. All I really remember is the sound and the smell. It happened so quickly that I didn’t see exactly what happened. A loud cracking sound, like a small explosion occurred and burning smoke filled my nostrils. I stumbled backwards blindly in the van, moving as fast as I could away from the smoke. I heard footsteps, then running. Then the sound again. I cowered at the back of the van, blocking my ears with my fingers while closing my eyes.

It felt like perhaps ten minutes had passed but I wasn’t sure. My mind and breathing had both relaxed. I knew my vision would be back to normal, because the tingling sensation had passed. So I opened my eyes and looked around. There was no sign of the men, no smoke either. I crept towards the door, knowing that I needed to make my escape, when I noticed something shocking. Warm, dusty ash covered the floor and caked the sides of the van. Oddly enough, it appeared to be smouldering. I didn’t remember seeing it there when I was first dragged in here.

Where did the men go? Were they coming back? Why was there so much ash in the van? I had many questions which I could not answer. Questions I was afraid to ask.

These events happened two days after my seventh birthday.

Chapter 2

Jamieson, Victoria, Australia – Eleven years later

The funeral service started at eleven o’clock in the small Baptist church in the remote town of Jamieson. Located in the high country of north-east Victoria, Jamieson rests at the junction of the Goulburn and Jamieson Rivers. It is a small valley town surrounded by cloud covered mountains where life unfolds slowly. There is a post office, church, bakery and grocery shop along the main street, with a row of small decaying houses on either side. However, most of the houses, like ours, are located on large properties, away from town on laneways bordered by hawthorn bushes and wandering sheep.

The church’s pastor Reverend Ken Beale had agreed to hold the service, even though neither my Aunt nor I had ever attended church here. The pastor had been stunned when I arrived on his doorstep two days earlier. He had prided himself in being acquainted personally with every permanent resident of the locality, so my arrival surprised him. Our home was less than one hour’s walk from the main street, yet I had only come into town a handful of times in my life. I smiled to myself, remembering the look on his face. He asked me who I was twice, took his glasses off, and scratched his nose. His whole face scrunched up while he tried to place either my Aunt or myself. It was only when I described our painted white brick home, and the laneway on which it was located, that a hint of recognition lit up his face. I think he knew of us.

The service was probably one of the smallest affairs he had seen here for a while, even though the town had no more than one hundred and fifty people. It was attended by myself and the half-Chinese local grocery store owner Harry. I suppose his real name was unlikely to be Harry, but that’s how my Aunt always referred to him. He was old, probably in his eighties with white hair and tough looking skin. Harry had been one of the few people to regularly speak with my Aunt since our arrival in the district. It was good that he came. The two of us were in the front row of the church sitting on hard wooden church pews, while the pastor conducted the service. I wanted my Aunt to be given a proper funeral in a church with prayers said over her body. I wasn’t religious, and I knew she wasn’t, but it still seemed like the right thing to do. I was only half listening, but the words were comforting in a weird sort of way.

My mind was feeling kind of cloudy, as if I was seeing everything through a thick haze. The future stretched before me, but it was a complete unknown. I was eighteen now, an adult. Old enough to make my own way in the world. Questions swirled in my head. What would I do without my Aunt? Where would I live? I had a lot of decisions to make soon, and this was making me feel uneasy. I tried to put all that aside for the time being.

I would miss my Aunt, I supposed, although I was certainly not about to cry. When she wasn’t being completely over-protective, we would laugh and she would tell me stories from her earlier life before coming here. We both enjoyed reading and cooking, and these activities occupied some of my time when I was wasn’t studying or working outside. The vegetable garden and orchard supplied the majority of our fresh food year round, which meant regular trips to the grocery store were not needed. However, this way of life necessitated endless amounts of time working outside; weeding, pruning, planting, watering and harvesting.

It was true that I often yearned for something different. For younger company, for a freer environment, for anything that was new. Aunt Ella had imposed an exile on us by coming here eleven years ago. There were strict rules in my Aunt house. I was not allowed to leave the property, except in emergency situations or when given permission. I was not to talk to, communicate, or even look at anyone directly, apart from my Aunt. I often thought of the rules as a jail sentence, and to be honest, I had resented her more than anything else. I never said anything directly to her though because I didn’t want to show disrespect. Instead I buried my feelings deep inside. I supposed she knew how I felt though, because I was often reminded in her familiar tone that the decision to come here was for my own good. She believed that if people knew what I could do, they would take me away. Maybe she thought I might accidentally hurt someone again? I wasn’t sure sometimes. In any case, it was never easy to accept the isolation and loneliness.

Where did her sudden death leave me now I wondered? My Aunt’s stroke had taken us both by surprise. She had planned to live forever I think, or at least for as long as I needed protecting. We had no contingency plan in place for this eventuality. I could imagine her horror if only she could see me now, sitting in a public place with the local pastor and Harry, where anybody could walk in. Ha, I revelled in that disobedient thought for a while.

Harry suddenly squeezed my hand and my attention was brought back to the pastor’s words.

‘See, the home of God is among mortals.

He will dwell with them;

they will be his people,

and God himself will be with them;

he will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the former things have passed away.’

Although I wasn’t expecting anyone