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    Sweet Slice of Fear: Three Sisters' Terrifying Flight From Fear and Revenge
    Sweet Slice of Fear: Three Sisters' Terrifying Flight From Fear and Revenge
    Sweet Slice of Fear: Three Sisters' Terrifying Flight From Fear and Revenge
    Ebook185 pages2 hours

    Sweet Slice of Fear: Three Sisters' Terrifying Flight From Fear and Revenge

    By Jim Seckler

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    About this ebook

    Three orphaned sisters, each burdened with fears, find themselves fleeing from an abusive, revenge-seeking foster mother. The girls evade authorities and their past when they land on the doorstep of a bachelor, who lives with his two German shepherds at his rural Washington state home. Twelve-year-old Chris, a victim of sexual abuse, only wants to keep her sisters together, Katie, 10, a victim of physical abuse and eight-year-old Jane, a victim of verbal abuse. Fleeing from their past, the girls grow closer to the man who decides to battle the court system to adopt them. But the girl's psychotic foster mother and a tragic ending await the sisters when their horrifying past finally catches up to them.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPublication Consultants
    Release dateApr 1, 2010
    ISBN9781594331435
    Sweet Slice of Fear: Three Sisters' Terrifying Flight From Fear and Revenge
    Author

    Jim Seckler

    Growing up in Southern California, Jim has also lived in Oregon, Washington, and currently in Arizona with his wife and daughter. He's a graduate from the University of Oregon with a bachelor’s degree in journalism, and has been a journalist for the last 12 years. He started his journalism career working at two newspapers in Northern California. He now works at a newspaper in Bullhead City, Arizona. He's a winner of the Arizona Newspapers Association’s Best News Story award. Jim started writing short stories after high school and has five novels and 17 short stories ready to publish.

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      Book preview

      Sweet Slice of Fear - Jim Seckler

      36

      Chapter 1

      The girl with the medusa-like golden hair popped her head out of the green dumpster and looked around, scanning the wet, dark green surroundings of the Washington rain forest. She looked back down into the dumpster from where she came on a quest for food and brought up a soggy newspaper. She eyed it with a quizzical grimace.

      A piece of green-black slime slithered off the newspaper and landed on the ground with a plop. On the newspaper was a color picture of a youthful-looking older man with gray hair, who looked very much like she envisioned her grandfather.

      Beneath the color photograph were several words written in thick, bold print. She slowly read each word to herself, then read them again, this time out loud. She sounded out the syllables, stumbling over the harder words, which was just about every other word.

      What's a Newt … ? she asked. She brushed a strand of thick, soggy, flaxen hair from her eyes and tried again.

      Her sister, who stood outside the dumpster, didn't answer so the girl spoke louder, this time with more determination in her dark, husky voice.

      What's a Newt … Ging …

      I don't know, her older sister snapped, not looking at the younger girl. She gazed through the wet branches of the trees, half expecting the foliage to come to life at any moment. The older sister's dark blue, catlike eyes scanned the wet undergrowth, watching for any unusual movement. When it arrived, as she knew it would, she waved at her sisters and started to run deeper into the woods. She didn't have to look back. She knew that they would be close behind.

      The sharp branches clawed at the older girl's hair, scratching her thin face, arms, and legs as she ran. Her breath was evident in the cool air. She stopped suddenly and dropped to the ground as her sisters scampered up behind her.

      They listened intently for the sound of the truck tires on the gravel road. The grinding of rubber on gravel grew louder, then softened when the truck drove slowly away. Shhh, she hissed at her youngest sister, who was about to say something else. She clamped her hand over her sister's mouth.

      Chris Jensen closed her eyes and thought of that place somewhere else. That warm and safe place where she could live with her sisters. She didn't know how she would get there or even where it was, but even though they were not at that place now, at least now they were together. They had that much going for them. She opened her eyes back to reality.

      I think they're gone, the middle sister whispered. She felt the beating of her heart, which seemed louder than her words.

      The three girls waited patiently in the bushes without sound, without movement. The two younger girls looked at their sister, waiting for their cue. After several long seconds, the oldest girl slowly stood up, confident that the danger had passed. She looked around the evergreen woods, thick with cedar trees covered with soft green moss. Rhododendron bushes sat like an army of pawns at the feet of the giant gnarled trees. The sounds of the forest had a muffled calmness to them. The thickness of the forest seemed to drown out the distant cawing of birds.

      I'm hungry, Jane whined. She was hungry and cold and tired and she didn't care anymore who knew it.

      We ate yesterday, Chris said.

      Maybe we can con somebody else out of a meal, Katie said. Like we did to those old people in the motor home the other day. She was also very hungry, but she wasn't about to complain. If Chris didn't say anything, then she wouldn't either.

      We almost got caught by those old people, Chris said impatiently. I didn't know he had a gun. Then that old biddy started screaming. Do you want to go back to the orphanage? Do you want us to be split up again? That's what'll happen if they catch us. It seemed to be a long speech for her and she stopped as if she used up her quota of words for the day. She studied her siblings, willing them to continue with her own strength. She was also hungry and bone tired, but she wouldn't let them see that.

      Can we go into town again? Jane asked. She did not understand why they were miles from the nearest town, living in a cold, leaky tent in a state park hiding from every one like a trio of homeless mongrel dogs.

      We were just in town the other day, Katie said, looking at Chris.

      So? Janie snapped. Why can't we go back? She then brushed the tangled hair from her eyes and spoke like she read a page in a book. Do we have to get jobs? she asked. Her face grimaced like she was about to hear bad news.

      What? What are you talking about?

      This New Gangwich, or somebody-a-rather, says that all homeless people should get jobs, Janie said. Does that mean we have to find a job? She tried to lower her voice so it didn't sound as if she was whining.

      That's just for adults, Katie said, rolling her eyes.

      Oh, Janie said with a deep sigh, relieved for the time being.

      Get down, Chris snapped.

      The three girls evaporated like magic into the forest's thick foliage. The driver in the pickup truck came back as she'd known he would, slowing like he was looking for something or someone. Chris could see the eyes of the man in the cab straining past the mist-streaked windshield. Once or twice, the man stopped the truck and got out and studied the woods, then got back in and went a little farther.

      What's he doing? Katie whispered.

      I don't know, Chris said. She felt the weight and burden of age on her thin, but strong body. She was only twelve but she already felt the bumpy change on the road to adulthood. She feared and welcomed the future, knowing that since she had survived the last twelve years, the next sixty or so couldn't be that difficult.

      He's gone, Katie said with obvious relief. She was only ten, yet felt light-years behind her older sister in every way, except one. That was physical strength. She could outrun, outjump, even outswim her older, taller sister, yet she was still envious of her and she did not know why.

      Let's go, Chris snapped. She started off without waiting for the others.

      Where are we going? Janie said, now back to a tired whine.

      Chris refused to answer.

      Jane watched the narrow back of her older sister disappear into the bushes and she scampered off to keep up.

      The three girls failed to see the other car cruise slowly by, heading in the opposite direction. It didn't stop, slow down, or speed up. Like a cruising tiger shark hunting for food, the 1960-something station wagon simply passed by, its muffler spewing a blue-gray smoke into the wet morning, its occupants hidden behind fog-misty windows.

      The old-style Oregon plates barely hung from the back of the car, attached in two places with a rusty coat hanger. The tiger shark car disappeared around a bend and slowly the noise of the rattling muffler also faded away. After a few moments, the muffled noise returned briefly but the car never materialized.

      Chapter 2

      The youthful-looking man gazed across the aluminum-colored water at the mountain range. He had seen the snow-capped mountain peaks many times before, but their majesty never ceased to amaze him. The mountains were not very high as far as mountains go, but they jutted straight up from the water, which made them look much taller than they actually were.

      The air was cold, but not bitterly cold. More like a numbing, bone-aching dampness that seeped into the skin like a ghost. John Bryon wore the newly designed Seattle Mariner baseball hat to keep the chilly drizzle off his face. He gazed down the small, rocky beach and saw only an older couple with a young child. The three people crouched down as if they were searching for lost treasure. The child had a bright red pail that seemed to be the only color on the colorless canvas of steel grayness and dark green.

      Across the sound, the gray mist silently danced its way up, then down the steep slopes of the mountains like children playing on a flight of stairs. The mist, however, didn't quite swallow up the green-gray foothills. On crystal-clear, cold, sunny winter days the snowcapped peaks looked so vivid it seemed one could reach out and touch them. But most of the time, playful mist shrouded the not-sotall mountains.

      With a sigh, John Bryon stood up and looked at the three treasure hunters before he made his way back to the parking lot where he had parked his Toyota pickup truck. Only one other car, a minivan with out-of-state license plates, sat nearby.

      As he approached, he stopped and studied his own truck. Something didn't seem right with it. In fact, something seemed very different. It took a few seconds to realize what the difference was. Covering the entire bed of the small truck was a light blue tarp. He had several similar tarps at home. One covered his small woodpile and another he used to cover anything he carried in the truck so it wouldn't get wet. But he didn't remember bringing a tarp with him down to the beach.

      This particular tarp suddenly moved like it was possessed by a nervous phantom. A second protrusion erupted closer to the cab like a tiny round volcano. He moved closer to the cab hearing no sound except for the chattering of birds in the trees. He stood there unsure what to do when a park ranger truck drove into view and pulled up next to him. A rain-streaked window rolled down and a stern-looking man with reddish cheeks peered at him.

      You haven't seen a couple of girls around here, have you? the ranger asked. He looked tired and almost mad. A radio crackled and a metallic voice could be heard inside the car but the ranger simply ignored it.

      John continued to stare at the blue tarp, his head tilted slightly in confusion.

      Sir? the ranger asked again. Sir?

      What?

      Have you seen three little girls? They're runaways.

      Huh? Uh no, John said. He looked at his pickup as if it was an alien craft.

      Whose tarp … He noticed the reddish-cheeked ranger as if for the first time. The ranger wore a dark green uniform with a patch on his shoulder.

      Excuse me? the ranger asked.

      Nothing. No. I haven't seen any kids, the man said.

      The ranger looked at him for a moment, then he too looked at the blue tarp, wondering if his own attention should be transfixed by it. Not understanding the meaning of the tarp, the ranger shook his head and rolled up the window, then slowly drove away. Stopping at a four-way stop, the truck puttered off around a bend and out of sight.

      John didn't notice the ranger leave, his eyes glued to the blue tarp. Suddenly a small, round protrusion erupted near the others. He, startled at first, jumped back a step. He peeked under the tarp and at first he didn't see anything. A face suddenly appeared, staring back at him and he jumped back in shock. He looked around the parking lot, but saw no one else. Realizing that someone was in his truck, he yanked back the blue tarp.

      He was stunned to see three scruffy, dirty children crouched between the rows of gray bricks that he placed between the wheel wells for extra weight during the rainy or snowy season. The three faces looked at him as if they were waiting for death. When they realized that the ranger had gone, their expressions turned from fear and weariness to suspicion and weariness. What are you doing in my truck? John asked.

      The three girls didn't answer and he pulled the tarp all the way off the back of his truck. Please don't turn us in, Chris said. Her voice was un-childlike and almost authoritative. For a second he was about to oblige, before realizing his mistake.

      Out of the car now, he snapped, looking around for the ranger.

      Don't turn us in. Please. They'll just send us back, Chris said. She spoke in a deep, old woman's voice. All three girls looked dirty and wet and shivering.

      Send you back where? John asked. He didn't really care. He just wanted them out of his truck.

      The orphanage.

      "What's

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