Crossroads

By Randa Goode

Seventeen-year-old Allison Montgomery is stuck spending another summer with her grandparents and prepares herself for another dull and routine visit. But with strange dreams invading her slumber, a rocky friendship with her grandparents' teenage neighbor, John Whitman, and a romance with local heart-throb, Logan Tucker, it's just the beginning of a summer she'll never forget.

John and Logan expose Allison to their different beliefs, leading her down paths of both light and darkness, while bizarre nightmares continue to plague her nights. And when she discovers her feelings for each boy isn't what she expected, she's left uncertain about everything - including her sanity.

In the end, Allison must choose, not only which relationship is worth saving, but what she truly believes in. She'll find that some decisions are forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randa Goode
• Release date: Feb 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458148186

Randa Goode

When she’s not writing, she’s busy her children’s activities, spending time with her husband, and working full-time as a personal banker. In 2010, her short story THE COFFIN LADY OF CROSBY won the Canis Latran Editor’s Choice Award. Then in 2011, CROSSROADS, her young adult debut novel was published.The Scarlett Series has been something she has wanted to work on for a while. SAVING SCARLETT is now available with SEEING SCARLETT coming out Summer 2014.

Book preview

Chapter One

Why couldn't I be more assertive?

This simple weakness doomed me to another dreary summer with my grandparents in Oak Grove. And if I'd only found it within myself to protest another year of torture, I'd be basking in the sun right now. But my mother, Helen, the World-Champion Guilt-Disher, thwarted my feeble attempt of persuasion and I found it easier to just keep my mouth shut. She cherished her alone time too much to have me intrude. She needed me to come here so she could do the things single-mothers of seventeen-year-old daughters shouldn’t do. Things she thought I knew nothing about. Things that were best left unspoken.

Are you ready, Alli-gator? Grandpa called from down the hallway.

Was I ready? Ready for another endless day of forced bonding?

Not really.

Nonetheless, I plastered on the fake smile my grandparents craved and headed toward the kitchen. My footsteps thundered on the pier and beam floors, making a response to his question pointless. There they sat, Grandpa and Nini waiting on their only child's offspring. I sighed, wishing the walls had an off button - or at least a mute - to silence the cheeriness exuding from their brilliant yellow. I joined them at the kitchen table and then listened while Grandpa prayed.

I grabbed a biscuit and buttered it. Nini did the same. Through tired eyes, I stared at her. She was up when I went to bed last night and now she sat wide-eyed this morning. Did she ever sleep?

Sleep. My eyes grew heavy just from the word. This was the one indulgence I missed since arriving here. Before giving into the temptation of running back to bed, I shoved the last piece of biscuit into my mouth, then carried my plate to the sink.

Just leave it, Nini said, shooing me away. You two better get going before the fish quit biting.

I forced another smile and laid the plate in the sink.

The sun was still hidden and the air cool when we climbed into Grandpa’s old pickup. So Alli-gator, how many fish do you think you'll catch today? he asked, bringing me out of my semiconscious state.

This was his ritual question he'd ask each fishing trip and I was required by some type of unwritten law to answer in a predetermined way. I took my cue without further prodding. I think the creek level might drop.

That's my girl.

He gave me a wink as we pulled into the parking lot of their convenience store. I could have guessed we'd make a stop here on our way out. His whole life was spent either here, at church, or at home. There was never any variance from his routine. This 'spur-of-the-moment' fishing trip was probably planned months before my arrival. Nothing was unexpected in this placid little town. Even spontaneity was penciled in people's mundane schedules.

The bell rang when we stepped inside. John Whitman raised his head from the newspaper just long enough to nod an acknowledgment. It had been a year since I'd seen him, but he looked the same – still taller than everybody else our age with blond hair flipping out from beneath a baseball cap. Maybe he was less gangly than before, but basically unchanged.

I followed Grandpa to the back of the store and grabbed two sodas as he stepped through the entrance of the cooler, disappearing inside. I stood near the door, listening to overworked refrigeration and peeking over at John as I waited for Grandpa's return.

John failed to notice my stare now that he was back to reading some insignificant story. He had to be miserable here.

Good morning, Smiley, Grandpa said, taking John and me by surprise when he reappeared, holding a tub of worms.

The edges of John’s mouth pulled upward, the exact reason he'd been given that nickname. I laughed under my breath as he tried to control it, but it was useless. Smiling was too easy for him.

Grandpa wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Did you get us drinks?

I held up two bottles as evidence of my compliance.

That's my girl. Can you write these down for us, John?

Sure. John jotted them on a clipboard next to the register and then sacked the few items we had.

Well, Alli-gator, Grandpa said, turning to me, it looks like we're ready.

Y'all have a good time, John said.

Conversation was non-existent after the store, which was fine. I rested my head on the window and watched images of the world pass in a blur. I was too awake now to sleep, but not enough to function.

We had driven this road thousands of times. I used to be excited about this trip when I was small, but I had grown up and the enjoyments of previous years had long passed away. Now this was just another event I was forced to endure because of my lack of a spine and their inability to see I'd changed. To them, I was frozen in time; destined to be six-years-old forever.

The pity-party, I'd come to know as my life, halted when we stopped at the crossroads near the river. Cars zoomed by in front of us while Grandpa waited for the light to change. He seemed so happy and content about our time together and if I could get past my resentment of being here, maybe I could find some enjoyment too. It wasn't his fault I wanted to be somewhere else. He was only a pawn in my mother's attempt to gain temporary freedom from motherhood.

Thanks for taking me fishing, I mumbled, trying to give a genuine grin.

I'm glad you came along, Alli-gator.

The light changed and he pulled forward. Horns blared. Glass exploded. Drinks erupted. The world spun out of control and then everything went dark.

Sirens blared, bringing me back to the smoke filled cab. Smudged images surrounded me and I wiped my burning eyes, pulling my hand away when stickiness lingered on my fingertips. Crimson blotches stained my hand while an unending stream of scarlet saturated my shirt. A trickle of liquid dribbled into my ear as I found my hair matted with the wetness of injury.

He's pinned in! someone yelled.

The noises flooded over me while the pain pulsated through my head. I couldn't focus. I searched for the release to my seatbelt, but my heavy head flopped to the side.

This one's moving!

My door flung open and the edges of everything around me faded.

Is Grandpa okay? I choked out.

We're working on it.

A blue light with odd shadows filled a room as strange noises told me I wasn’t home. I moaned as I tried to sit up. Mom jumped from a chair at the foot of the bed.

What was she doing here? What was I doing here?

Allison? She gripped my hand. My entire body ached and my arid mouth refused to form words. My eyes searched hers, but found only tears.

I vaguely remember moments of consciousness. I could have been out for days or weeks. The windows were dark when I awoke to find a nurse next to my bed and Mom asleep in a chair. I opened my mouth, but as before, no words came.

Here you go, the nurse said, handing me a cup of water with a straw. Just drink it slowly.

The cool water swirled in my belly and moisture in my mouth was wonderful. The words finally formed. Is my grandpa okay?

He's still in ICU.

Still in ICU? A thousand questions weighed on my brain, but I was too weak to ask them. My body was giving in to the sleep that wanted to claim me, but I needed answers. My eyes shot open. Can I see him?

She stared at me and then answered. Okay, but for just a few minutes.

I tried to smile, although I wasn't sure if it showed.

The simple act of being out of bed felt good, but painful. I tried to remember the details of the last couple of days, but my thoughts were too fuzzy and my head throbbed with every heartbeat. When we entered the elevator, my hand found the source and tears rushed to my eyes.

Did they shave my head?

Just a small section to put in the stitches. She moved my hand away. In a few weeks you won't even see them.

Stitches? I was a freak, a monster. I wanted to bury my head and cry until I awoke from this nightmare, but the anguish was too real to be a figment of my imagination. What if my deformity wasn't limited to only my scalp? What if I was scarred beyond recognition and that had been the true reason for the fear in Mom's eyes? I forced the thoughts away. I had to stay together long enough to see Grandpa.

The twinge of over-sterilization filled the empty hallway. Cracked doors revealed the edges of beds that held the victims of accidents and disease. I wondered what they looked like – maybe mutilated and deformed like me.

We came to the door of Grandpa’s room and the edge of his bed came into view as my head and stomach swirled. Hold on.

What’s wrong? the nurse asked.

I wasn't sure.

Staring at the corner of his bed, debating my next move, a whisper came on the wind. Don’t be afraid.

What did you say? I asked, turning to the nurse.

I didn't say anything. Are you okay?

The voice came again. Don’t be afraid.

Did you hear that?

Her eyebrows raised as she strained to hear and then shook her head. I think this might've been a bad idea. Why don't we try this tomorrow?

No, I said. I'm okay. I want to go in.

Grandpa lay on the bed with machines attached, tracking his heart beat. I couldn’t do anything but sit there and watch him.

I'll be back, the nurse whispered, leaving me alone in the room. I reached through the bed rail to hold his hand.

His hands, once strong and powerful, were now frail and weak. I rubbed my thumb over his skin, studying the wrinkles and gray hairs that covered it.

Grandpa, I whispered. Wake up.

Moments passed while I waited for something, anything to happen. If I could only speak with him again and let him know he wasn't the burden I'd made him out to be. I could be a better granddaughter. We could do things this summer. It'd be just like it was before, when I was young. If only he'd wake up.

These silent promises were made while tears continued their journey across my face. I'd ruined everything. If I'd had the courage to speak my mind, things would be different. I would be home and none of this would have happened. A moan escaped as the guilt attached itself to my skin.

Hey there, Alli-gator. Grandpa’s voice was scruffy and low as he squeezed my hand.

Grandpa, are you okay?

I'll be fine.

I'm sorry, I said as the tears spilled faster.

About what?

All of this. If I hadn't come here this summer then ...

Don't be silly. You can't blame yourself.

He was wrong. I did blame myself, but seeing him awake alleviated some of the crushing guilt.

Love you, Grandpa.

Love you too, Alli-gator. And we'll go fishing just as soon as I get out of here. How many fish are you gonna catch again?

My voice cracked. The creek level might drop.

That's my girl.

He shut his eyes as the nurse walked in. He woke up, I told her.

Her expression confused me. It wasn't a look of excitement, but one of sympathy. Did she not believe me?

Honey, he's in a coma.

He woke up, I told her louder than before.

Okay, okay, she said with an empty smile. Let's get you back before your mother starts to wonder where you are.

Grandpa's hand fell from mine. But deep inside I had hope that everything would be okay - even if she didn't believe me.

Mom awoke when we opened the door to my room. She got to her feet. Where'd you take her?

We went to see Grandpa, I said.

Her face fell. Are you okay?

Mom, he woke up.

Mom looked at the nurse, back at me, and then at the nurse again. The nurse gave her the same sympathetic look she'd given me. She didn't believe me.

Mom, I know what I saw!

The nurse didn’t argue as she helped me back into bed. Trying to get situated, I winced from pain.

Are you hurting? the nurse asked.

Of course I was hurting - no one believed me. I nodded as I pulled on the blanket.

This should help you sleep, she said, injecting something into my IV.

But I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to tell them about my visit. I wanted them to believe me, but the medicine overpowered me. My eyes closed and I began to dream.

The world spun out of control. Smoke invaded my lungs, suffocating me. My head slammed into the window and jabs of pain pulsated through my body. The blur of a man stood at the hood of the mangled truck, studying us both. I wanted to scream for help, but my body was useless.

He came into focus, blinding me with his brilliance. His calmness in this crisis was contagious and washed over me. A blink and he was at my side. The edges of his being pulsated with light, taking away the shadows that fought to surround me. An addiction to painlessness grew within me and I wanted the consuming peace to be everlasting. I wanted to cling to him and go wherever it was he belonged. Looking at me, his eyes pierced through the darkness of my entity, exposing my soul.

Grandpa stirred next to me, breaking the trance this stranger had on me. I turned my head and stared at my weakening grandfather. His eyes moved past me as he smiled at the man.

Who is that? I asked.

An old friend, Grandpa said, turning to me for a brief moment. His eyes moved back to the stranger. Protect her, Alkon, Grandpa pleaded.

The dark eyes that haunted my dreams had returned and lurked in the shadows around us. The visions that lingered at the edge of my subconscious; the stares I could never escape. They watched me. They taunted me. They hunted me. They wanted me.

Alkon closed his crystal eyes and his radiance expanded until the skulking eyes disappeared into the light and I was at rest again. Another blink and he was at Grandpa's side, laying his hand on Grandpa’s dull, frail skin, setting it aglow. Soon it matched Alkon's glimmer. The luminosity grew, casting away shadows and blinding me. My eyes squinted from the intense burst. I refocused, but the light was gone and so were Alkon and Grandpa.

Sobs awakened me, but I wanted to go back to sleep – back to the peace and tranquility – but it was too late. Their cries had made it to my ears and I knew. Burying my face into my hands, I let the guilt and sorrow devour every molecule in my body.

Grandpa was gone and I was to blame.

Chapter Two

Mom gathered my things into a small, black travel bag, awakening me with her failed attempt at quietness. She turned when I sat up in bed. I'm just getting your stuff together, she said, returning to her task. I've brought you some clothes. After you eat, I'll help you get ready.

I looked at the cold eggs and bland oatmeal on a tray next to me, leaving them where they were. I'm not hungry, I mumbled.

As she promised, she followed through with her motherly duties and helped me dress. The act left me exhausted and wondering if I would ever get my strength back. We both turned when the door opened. Nini walked in followed by John Whitman.

Her face brightened when she saw I was up, moving around. Don't you look pretty.

Thanks, I said, making sure the stitches were covered. I kept my head low. Even though my previous assumptions of mutilation were false, I still felt hideous.

Sitting next to me on the edge of the bed, she grabbed my hand. Allison, it's okay. We know you've been through a lot.

Embarrassment flushed my face when John smiled at me. I turned to Mom. Can we go now?

I'll check.

John leaned against the wall and twirled the keys on his finger. The constant jingle jangle irritated me. What was he doing here anyway? Didn’t he have better things to do? But then again, he lived in Oak Grove, so I would have to assume not.

The silence was unbearable. I needed to talk to Nini, to ask her how she was, but deep down, I didn’t really want to. I couldn’t handle the screams of anger or the cries of mourning, even if I deserved them. I was, after all, the one responsible for her husband's death. How was I to ever repay her for this transgression? How would I ever get over the guilt of leaving her a widow and all alone? Maybe in the next couple of weeks, I could find a way to make some type of right out of this terrible wrong.

Mom reentered and the look on her face announced bad news. Before I could ask, a nurse followed her in with a wheelchair.

I can walk, I said. I don't have to be wheeled out of here like an invalid.

I'm sorry, Mom said. It's hospital policy.

It may be hospital policy, but I don’t have to like it. I rolled my eyes and sulked over to the wheelchair. The nurse adjusted the footrests then pulled me into the hallway.

May I? John asked from behind.

Things were only getting worse. I turned my head and was mortified when he took control of the chair. I looked to Mom and Nini for some type of objection, but they were too involved in their conversation to notice. Even in complete humility, I couldn't find the words to express myself. I crossed my arms and sat there in quiet disapproval.

On our way back to Nini's house, I couldn't help but stare at the back of John's head. Why was he doing all of this? I knew this wasn't the first time he had volunteered to help my grandparents. Every time I spoke with them, they'd bring up John and what wonderful things he did. It made me sick.

Maybe that's why I didn’t want to be his friend. Maybe jealousy played a part too, but it didn't matter. People don't just do something for nothing. He had an agenda. It may not be clear now, but it was there, waiting to be discovered.

We pulled into the driveway and John put the car in park before rushing around and opening my door. I scooted out, only to have him grab my arm to help me stand. If he needed to put on a show for Nini, I was not going to be his assistant. Yanking my arm away when I was on my feet, I took the few steps to the porch.

A weight landed on my chest as the absence of Grandpa sank in. Tears rolled down my face while I stood there staring at the door - the unmoving, empty door. No longer would he rush out to meet us when we arrived.

John put his hand on my back. You okay?

Yeah, I lied, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

He walked with me up the porch steps, keeping a hold of my arm and this time, I let him. He reached for the door handle and my emotions exploded. Now I was the one clinging to him.

Let's get you inside, he said, his voice rising with concern.

The sobs took over and I stumbled to the bench on the porch.

Are you sure you don't want to go in? he asked, sitting next to me.

I can't, I mumbled, hiding my face in my hands.

John sat there speechless while I broke down. I wanted to hold it all back and not look like a blubbering idiot in front of him, or anyone for that matter, but the gates were open and there was no subsiding it.

I don't always understand God's will, John said, breaking the building silence, but it helps to know your grandfather's in heaven.

I let his words roll off me, never taking hold. I didn't feel comforted; I felt hollow and alone. My grandfather was gone and I was to blame. My heart ached at this reality.

Is everything all right? Nini asked.

I lied again. Yes.

John stood and I followed. I took a deep breath before walking inside. It was impossible, but I still expected to see Grandpa sitting in his favorite chair. Instead, the silence and emptiness consumed me as I walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. The memories of that day rushed back. Nothing about that morning predicted the altering events that occurred. No glimpse. Nothing.

Stepping though the kitchen doorway, John placed my bag on the floor and turned to Nini. Is there anything else you need, Mrs. Robinson?

No, John, she said and gave him a hug. You've done more than enough.

My stomach twisted at the sappiness. He was the hero and I was the villain. I hated him even more.

Laying awake in the spare bedroom, thoughts of Grandpa ran rampant through my head. Every good memory now tattooed with the guilt of the accident. But I got my wish of not spending another summer here. After this, I was certain Nini would never invite me back, much less ever love me again.

I rolled to my side, trying to untwine the knot in my stomach. The never-ending sobs soaked the sleeve on my pajama top as I wiped at my face. I forced myself out of bed and headed toward the bathroom for tissues, peering into Nini's room when I passed.

Kneeling next to her bed, she clasped her hands in front of her. She was probably praying for God to strike me down. I could only hope for such a blessing – a way to make the pain stop. I left her to her petitions and continued to the bathroom, then went back to bed.

The night continued to drag as I stared at the ceiling. I knew my life had changed forever, but to what extent, I wasn't sure. Was I destined to carry this guilt forever?

I pondered that question until my eyes grew heavy.

A gray mist hovered in the field, hiding the grass beneath. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the shadows grew darker. Something was out there, lurking and waiting. I crouched into the protection of the fog, hoping it would be enough. It had to be.

A low growl penetrated the haze and I gasped in the air around me. Whatever was out there was close. I could feel it.

The dismal light drained from the sky, leaving only darkness in its absence. Grass rustled behind me as the thick stench of death surrounded me. It was here.

I burst from my hiding place, rushing into the night, uncertain and uncaring of my destination. I had to get away from whatever was in the field. I had to find a way to escape.

The grass wrapped around my feet and fumbled my footing, bringing me down hard and pushing the air from my lungs. I lay there, gasping for precious oxygen, forcing my lungs to expand - to breathe.

That thing, still concealed by the murk, circled me. I covered my mouth to hide the wheeze, but it was too late. The noise stopped and it knew I was there. It was just waiting. Waiting for me to take my last breath or make a run for it. But where could I go?

I gritted my teeth. I wasn't going to just lie down and let it happen. I had to fight. From the pit of my stomach, I forced my fear paralyzed body to move. My hands clawed at the ground while my feet scrambled beneath me.

My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the sound of the rushing wind. My legs withered, but I kept going. With each long stride, I put distance between us.

Turn around, a voice whispered.

I kept running.

The voice came again. Turn around.

I stared into the night - whatever was back there wanted to harm me, of that I was confident, and now I was supposed to turn around? I kept running. Foot after foot. Breath after breath. Stride after...

The world tumbled around me, making no distinction between dark sky and dark ground. The footsteps that followed slid to a halt. I jumped back to my feet, scanning the shadows and finding nothing.

Run! the voice shouted.

This command I obeyed. My feet pounded the soft ground, cutting through the haze and grass. A single tree, my only salvation, stood in the distance.

Another growl shook the earth and my body. It was behind me again, but I didn't look back, afraid of what I'd see, afraid it was closer than I thought. I kept running as the air diminished from my chest, but I forced my legs forward.

Lightning flashed, awakening everything as terror rippled through me when my eyes latched onto the mangled carcass keeping stride. Fangs protruded from its gnarled mouth. Its yellow eyes glared while its nostrils expanded with each deep inhalation.

I forced my eyes toward the tree. It was my only hope.

My head snapped around when another snarl exploded from behind. There were more than one. My heart raced faster, threatening to beat out of my chest. I swiveled my head, finding two more running to my left.

The sky sparked to life again and two stood before me, waiting. I was surrounded. My feet slowed to a jog as my mind searched for another way out.

Keep going, the voice demanded.

But I couldn't. My feet cemented themselves to the ground and my body shook from fear and exhaustion. The creatures moved in.

Keep going!

I can't! I screamed into the night.

The monsters encompassed me and tightened the circle. The snarls and growls foretold the horrible things that were to come and their eyes declared it. I was not to survive this night. I would be ripped apart, piece by piece, by these creatures that longed for the taste of my flesh and blood. Their mouths watered in anticipation.

I tried to slow my heart, tried not to show the fear that resonated from deep within my soul, but my hands shook without reserve, canceling every bit of courage I had managed to gather. They could smell my fear. They could taste it on their black tongues.

One stepped forward. Patches of manged fur jutted between spots of puss filled flesh. Its dark eyes absorbed the light, pulling it deep into its gnarled body. It lowered itself, steadying and readying for the attack.

With one swift movement, the monster leapt into the air, keeping its eyes sharp on its victim – me. My legs threatened to buckle and I could only hope that the end would come swiftly.

Light exploded in front of me, pushing me backward and to the ground. The creature snapped as Alkon's radiant