The Summer Sisterhood (Conclusion)

The Summer Sisterhood (Part Three)
fiction by Brad Zockoll

My legs turned to jelly, and my throat grew tight. The shadowy figure was yanking on the door in a feverish way. The noise was incredible. We could hear him grunting in fury. I pawed at the walls behind me and tried to keep my balance as I backed down the hallway, hoping to put distance between that evil presence and me. In the candlelight, I glanced at Denise, and I realized that this wasn’t another scheme on her part. She was petrified as much as I was. The man kicked at the door, and I heard wood splinter.
Amanda turned. "The cell phone on the porch!" She dashed toward the front of the house. I could see Kimberly glance quickly at Amanda and pause for a moment.
Kimberly had an idea. She spoke above the noise of the banging. "We’ve gotta distract him. It’ll give Amanda time to get that phone. Let’s get closer to him."
I nodded, but I don’t know whether or not she saw me in the dark. I followed her lead as she drew near the door and started screaming, yelling and making noise. I started to help her but as I heard another piece of wood crack, I realized that we might need a weapon of some sort. What would protect us? I wondered.
Kimberly kept up her noise, and I looked about the kitchen, fumbling my way around. It was then that I heard a crash in the front room. The man paused; he had heard it, too. Grabbing the flashlight, I ran past Denise, who was huddled in a corner with her arms clasped around her knees. She was crying uncontrollably. This was the real thing. Okay, I’d better do something, I thought. I ran to the front room. When I arrived, I saw Amanda sprawled out on the carpet.
Girls With a Plan"I didn’t see the stool," she whimpered. "I think my ankle is either broken or sprained real bad. I can’t get up."
I leaned down. "Where is it, Mandy? Where’s the cell phone? Quick, before he discovers it himself."
She pointed to the front door. "When we first arrived and you tried to douse me with water, I hid the phone next to the door . . . no, that’s not right."
"Quick, Mandy! Think! Where did you put it?" There was no more noise at the back. Perhaps the man was coming around the side of the house. If that was the case, I didn’t have much time.
She looked up. "I h-hid it in the mailbox out front, next to the road. I-I’m sorry, Heather, but I just can’t — "
"Never mind! I’ll get it. You’re sure it’s in the mailbox?"
"Positive."
"Okay, then." I knew what I had to do. I clicked off the flashlight and handed it to Amanda. "The moon is out from behind the clouds now. It’s light enough outside that I can make it to the mailbox."
"Okay." She took the flashlight and in the moonlight, I could see her set her jaw and push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "But how can I help?" Kimberly had quietly come to my side. "I’ll help. I’ll be at the front door."
I nodded. "Okay, listen. The front door’s not so bad, but the screen door squeaks something terrible. Once I hit that door, he’ll have figured out that one of us is outside. I want you to do this for me: Once I get outside, I need you to close the door and lock it."
Kimberly did a double take. "But you — "
"Don’t mind me, I’ll be back at the door before you know it. Just stand by this door, girl, and lock it when I leave. When you see me come running back, unlock it and let me in, and then lock it up right behind me. You got it?"
Amanda leaned over. "Pray?"
I scrunched down and smiled. Denise, I saw, had crawled into the room. "Yeah," I said, "we’ll pray. This time we’ll pray."
We all clasped hands, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight. "Jesus, Savior, please, please protect us. Get us out of this, Jesus. Please? Amen."
Kimberly blinked and patted my hand. "I couldn’t have said it better." I snuck to the front door, and Kimberly put both hands on the lock. "Ready?" I breathed deep. Twenty steps to the mailbox, 20 steps back. I had done it hundreds of times and had counted it more often than I could remember. Twenty up, 20 back. Out and in. Here we go, I thought. I leaned forward.
The Run of My Life"Go." I shot out of the front door and leaped off the front porch before the first groan of the screen door could be heard. I was already at the mailbox and stuffing my hand into it when I heard footsteps coming in my direction. My hand felt the cell phone, and I wrapped my fingers around it. The running footsteps were crunching across the gravel.
I can make it. Yes, I can make it.
His footsteps left the gravel, and I heard them hit the thick grass at the side of the house. I sprinted toward the house. It would be close but I could make it.
But then I hit that wet spot where I had dumped the water off of the roof. My foot skidded, and I went down in a heap, slamming my back on the walkway — hard. He was across the yard, and I could hear him panting.
I couldn’t make it. At least not back to the house.
What should I do? I thought. The girls were screaming inside. I could see his shadowy form coming at me fast.
I rolled and kicked and lashed. I had contact with his hand, and he pulled it away quickly, grunting in frustration. I kept rolling and then lifted myself to my feet in one motion. My only thought was to get away, so I ran down the lane. It was a full mile, but I thought I could buy some time. I heard him puff as he vaulted over a bush toward me. I knew this area, and I didn’t think he did. He’ll catch up with me quickly unless I do something. I know this place better than he does, I thought.
Lord, protect me. Help me think.
I jumped off the lane into the cornfield. As I slashed between the rows of tight, waxy-feeling corn, I realized that I still had the cell phone. Quickly, I dialed 911 as I slid between the rows. I couldn’t hear the first words the operator said, but I started screaming directions into the phone as quickly as I could. I never stopped running.
"S-sanders Lane! Sanders Lane! We’re being attacked!"
"What is the house number, ma’am?"
"Twelve-ten! That’s one-two-one-zero! Sanders Lane," I huffed and turned to the left, "near the intersection of Echo Valley and Owl Hollow. The McCutcheon place! Hurry!" I dodged again. I didn’t know where I was going, but neither did he. The darkness closed in as I ran deeper into the rows. I stopped momentarily to glance at the house, but the only recognizable feature was the moon in the sky. The corn was at its highest.
Then I heard him breathe deeply.
Was he the escaped convict? The convenience store burglar? The Collins’ boy—the one who wants revenge? If only I knew.
Then I realized that it didn’t matter who he was. He was out to hurt us, and I had to do what I could to protect those girls and myself. I ran away from the sound of his breathing, but as I ran through the rows, the noise I made gave away the direction I was running. I heard him crashing along behind me. He was getting closer. I guessed I had a few seconds lead on him. There was only one more thing I could think to do, if I could just get to the lane once more.
The End Is NearI took a guess in the direction I turned and was right. I found the road. I could hear him turn the other way. Good. That was enough time for me. I was tired, but I thought I could fool him. With one bound, I dropped into the ditch in the side of the road and held still. I was hoping that he would run far enough past me that I could run back to the house. I held as still as I could, though my wildly beating heart was crashing against my ribs.
I heard him change direction and run toward me. I didn’t dare move or look up. I had taken the risk and put my entire hope for safety into this one move.
Then he stopped. Where was he?
"There you are."
It was him. He was right over me.
"White shirt catches the moonlight, girl. Get up here."
I didn’t look up into his face, but I shrieked as I saw his shadow lean over to grab me.
He grunted as he leaned. A heavy "oof" grunt. Then he leaned forward . . . and more forward . . . until he fell on his face on the other side of the ditch. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was hit hard enough to be stunned. I saw another shadow, feet set apart and fists ready for battle. It wasn’t a young man, but whoever it was meant business. He gestured to the groaning figure on the ground.
"Now, you’ll stay right there or there’ll be more of where that came from, son." I heard the crackle of tires coming down our gravel lane. The standing man stayed tense. "Don’t even think about getting up."
The face turned toward me, and a hand reached out. "Now Heather, reach out, and I’ll pull you up. Good thing we had the police scanner on at the house. I’ll bet I was out the door and running across the field before the police even got to the main road."
As the two squad cars pulled up, a flashlight beam fell across the face of the man helping me to my feet. It lit up the scarred, disfigured face of our pastor. I leaned toward him and hugged him hard. Tears spilled down my face. His was the most beautiful face I had ever seen.
The Final AnalysisI never was face-to-face with the man who terrorized us. It turned out to be the Collins’ boy, and I eventually saw his picture in the police section of the newspaper. As for Kent, he was fine. The Collins’ boy knocked him down in the yard, but he wasn’t out for long.
The Sisterhood has changed since that night. Kimberly has been talking with the pastor’s wife about the serious steps of salvation in Jesus and what heaven is all about. Last week she made the most sincere and powerful decision she could, as she asked Jesus Christ to be in control of her life. Totally. Completely.
Amanda has a newfound strength in her Christian walk. Although I wouldn’t say she is ready to speak before Congress or lead an army, she has shown a confidence that has taken her testimony to new heights.
Denise has been walking in deeper faith. Her little stunt that backfired taught her not only about Christians in extreme situations, but also how she must answer for her own walk with Christ. She has taken quiet but firm steps in spiritual maturity. I saw her leading three girls in a short Bible study and prayer time in one of the rooms at church before the teen meeting.
Me? I think Denise’s little trick woke me up to the fact that I needed to scrape away style and have some substance in my Christian walk. It wasn’t the appearance of others that was foremost in my life; it was my appearance that preoccupied me. That night, I realized that I had put prayer and reliance upon God in a very distant corner in my life. When the reality of crisis hit me, my spiritual armor was nowhere to be found. I was thankful for a second chance. I also realized that inside counts more.
The Sisterhood continues to create havoc and hilarity wherever we go. However, we will always remember a very important night when we saw ourselves as we never had before.


Wasn't that a great story!!! I hope you enjoyed it. Tell me what you thought PLEASE! My joy is posting and receiving comments so pretty pretty please comment! Thanks!!!

Until Next Time,
Butterfly (just a shorter version of socialbutterfly)