Gayle Wilson - Bogeyman

“Piggyback,” she said, trying to position the little girl behind her without losing the grip she had on her arm. “Put your legs around my waist and hold on.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to, Maddie. You have to.” Again she made her voice hard. Demanding.

She knew the child was at a breaking point, but she couldn’t deal with hysterics. Not up here. She had to get her off the roof now, even if it meant dropping her over the side as she had dropped her out of the window.

“Get on my back,” she said, pulling sharply on Maddie’s arm. “Do it now, Maddie. Do you hear me?”

Trembling arms fastened around her neck, almost choking her. She reached down and lifted her daughter’s legs to wrap them around her body. She had to push the constriction of the little girl’s gown out of the way, but finally the child was in position, clinging to her back, her cheek resting against Blythe’s neck.

She could hear Maddie sobbing, but she ignored it. She ignored everything except what she had to do.

Using her palms and her feet, she inched down the sloping roof. Given the size of the addition, it was a matter of less than a minute before her toes were at the edge. Then she realized that she wasn’t sure how to proceed from there.

Try to position herself, with Maddie still on her back, to dangle from the roof as she had from the window? But there was nothing here to hang onto. Even if there had been, she wasn’t sure that her arms could support their combined weight—not even long enough to extend her body over the edge.

Drop Maddie, as she had done before? The grass below would be softer than the roof, and she’d suffered no serious injuries from the previous fall. Of course, working on the slanting surface would be much harder than standing on the floor of the bedroom and lowering her out the window had been.

Her eyes searched the area below. Stripped by the winter of their leaves, the foundation plantings looked like stakes, pointing upward, ready to impale them.

The ground then, she decided. Even the dead brown grass would offer some cushion. And what choice did she have?

She glanced up and back. Tongues of flames shot out of the window she’d broken. They had only a couple of minutes at most before the fire would involve the rest of the house, including the place where they were sitting.

“I’m going to swing you off the edge, just like we did before.” She reached up, trying to pry Maddie’s hands from around her neck.

“No. No, Mama. I don’t want to.” The child’s denial was mindless. Panicked.

Blythe didn’t have time to reason with her. Ruthlessly, she pulled at the child’s right wrist, breaking its hold. In response, Maddie’s legs tightened around her waist as she clung like a limpet to what she perceived to be safety.

“Maddie, let go. We have to get down.”

A wail answered her. The wrist she’d captured was ripped from her hold as Maddie again locked both arms around her neck, threatening to cut off her supply of air.

“Look at it. Look up. Do you see the fire? We have to get off the roof, damn it. We have to.”

Uncertain whether her words would have any impact against the child’s fear, she reached again and pulled the clenched hands apart. This time she didn’t let down her guard and allow Maddie to free her wrist. This was life and death. And it was up to her to make sure the choice was not the latter.

Ever mindful of how near the edge they were, she tried to drag the child around in front of her. Realizing she wasn’t going to be able to do that one-handed, Blythe lifted her other hand off the roof, using it, too, to try to manhandle the little girl off her back.

Now beyond any threat that might coerce her to obedience, Maddie struggled desperately to maintain her position. Eventually Blythe’s superior size and strength won out. She wrestled the child forward, breaking the hold of those trembling legs.

As soon as she realized what was happening, Maddie lunged upward toward the peak of the roof, trying to escape. Blythe was forced to turn to keep hold of her daughter. As she did, her foot slipped on the shingles, sending her sliding toward the edge of the roof. Although the distance she traveled was small, her left foot dropped over, almost unbalancing her.

She let go of Maddie, throwing herself prone in an attempt to stop the downward slide. Moving carefully, she pulled the dangling foot back onto the roof and, then using her feet and hands, painstakingly inched her body up the incline.

Although the exertion required had not been great, she was panting, breath sawing in and out of her lungs. When she finally felt secure enough to move again, she turned her head, searching for her daughter.

Maddie was sitting halfway up the slanting roof. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, which had been drawn up to her chin, her nightgown draped over them. Her eyes were the only dark spot in a face literally without color.

In the sudden stillness between them, Blythe was aware of heat beneath her body. The fire had apparently reached the porch. Once it broke through…

“We have to do this now, Maddie. You can’t fight me or we’ll both fall off.”

Or worse. She couldn’t say that, of course. The child had clearly moved beyond the reach of reason. Reminding her of the fire would only drive her further into hysteria.

Blythe pushed up, still moving carefully after the near disaster. She reached one hand out imploringly to her daughter.

For a long moment nothing happened. She had begun to despair when the little girl finally moved. With the same crab-like motion Blythe had used to make the descent, she edged down the incline.

Blythe took the child’s left wrist in her right hand. “I’m going to swing you off and drop you down on the grass. Bend your knees when you hit. You’ll be fine. I swear, Maddie, you’ll be fine.”

She expected resistance. Arguments. Something. The little girl nodded instead.

There was no time now to do anything other than swing her over the side and then let her go. One chance. One chance.

She took Maddie’s other wrist, pulling her around in front. Then, fighting to keep from falling off the roof, too, she swung the little girl over the edge, her shoulders screaming again with the strain.

She bent forward, her breasts touching her knees, in an attempt to hold Maddie away from the house. She took a final glance at the ground to verify that her daughter would fall onto the thick zoysia below. Then she closed her eyes for a final wordless prayer, before she allowed her fingers to release, dropping the child to the ground.

Blythe’s eyes followed her descent. For a long heartbeat, Maddie lay where she had fallen. Then slowly, more slowly than Blythe believed she could bear, she began to sit up.

“Maddie? You okay?”

Another eternity before the small blond head moved up and down. Blythe stifled the sob, knowing there was no time for tears, not even of relief.

“You have to run,” she said.

Despite the moonlight, the woods that stretched behind the house seemed dark and frightening. But if she sent Maddie toward the front, she wouldn’t be able to see her. She couldn’t be sure that the child wouldn’t go back inside the house to find a toy or because it had once been a place of safety.

“The woods,” she said. “Can you run to the woods and wait for Mama?”

“I want to wait here. You said you were coming.”

“I am. I’m right behind you. But you need to get away from the house. Away from the fire. Go on, Maddie. Just to the edge of the woods.”

She watched as her daughter reluctantly climbed to her feet. As soon as Maddie moved out of the way, she would jump down. Even if she broke an ankle, she’d still be able to get away from the fire. Even if I have to crawl…