Unraveled Read Online Free Page B

saw things in my dreams that came true, but they were always mixed up and we couldn’t figure out what was going to happen, until after the event. That near-’bout drove us crazy.
    Pepper’s eyes widened and she looked around as if Mama might be hiding behind a buckeye bush or something. “What was she doing?”
    â€œNothing. Standing there and worrying at her wedding ring.”
    â€œFar out! Did she say anything?”
    â€œNo.” I imagine adults would spend some time talking about the vision, or what might be coming, but we shared so much over the years that we didn’t need to say hardly a thing. “She’s gone now.”
    Pepper shrugged and led the way like she always does. “Then what are we standing here for?”
    The log was solid, but scary. We were log-walkers from way back, but we still eased across like it was a thousand miles to the bottom. Even if we’d fallen, the ten-foot drop into soft mud and water wouldn’t have been bad, but it’d be a mess and we might have broke an arm like Kevin McDaniel did last year. What was worse, I heard about a cousin who fell off one and broke his neck.
    Pepper crossed with her arms out like a tightrope walker. I didn’t want to look like that, so I tucked my own arms close and kept my eyes on the far side instead of the log. The rotting bark crunched underfoot, but the bridge held steady. My tennis shoe caught on a stob and I caught my balance just in time to skip and dance the last couple of feet with a lump of fear as big as a horse apple in my throat.
    Back on solid ground we followed a game trail winding around trees and tangles of berry vines. A squirrel scolded us all the way, running from limb to limb and chattering like we’d stole his nuts. I wished I’d brought my BB gun to sting him and shut him up.
    Pepper was looking around for a rock to throw at him when she stepped in a thick stand of tall grass. The world exploded around her as a big covey of quail whirred into the air, scaring her so bad she jumped and screamed. The birds scattered and sailed through the trees.
    â€œShit!”
    I laughed and pointed a finger “Pow! Pow!”
    â€œIt ain’t funny. I think I peed myself a little.”
    That made me laugh even more.
    â€œI wish you’d stepped in ’em, then I could laugh at you .”
    â€œThey’re only tee-tiny birds. Come on.”
    We finally broke out of the woods at the base of the dam. I stopped at a barbed-wire fence and peeked through the cedars growing thick and tall. We could see the broken rail high above at the top of the dam, and the long gouge in the dirt where they’d dragged the car back to the top.
    â€œThey’re gone.” Pepper put her foot on the second strand of barbed-wire where it was stapled to a bodark post and crawled over the fence. “Shit! Look at this.” She pointed at a thick pool of blood.
    We’re no strangers to blood. We kill and eat our own cows and pigs, and hunt and fish, but I’d never seen so much in one big, thick puddle. It had already started to dry on the dirt and what little grass there was, and it looked like strawberry jelly to me.
    It was a person’s blood and it made me queasy.
    I couldn’t take my eyes off it, but Pepper stepped around the damp patch and kicked through the young Johnson grass. “Here’s her makeup.” She pointed up the slope. “There’s a pair of sunglasses up there.”
    It looked like someone had dumped a load of trash down the slope. Tissues, pens, papers, maps, and a dozen other things were mixed with dirt clods, torn-up grass, and scattered chrome trim. I imagined the woman screaming while the spinning car tore itself apart on the long way down.
    I noticed a man’s shoe nearby. My head spun. “They lost their shoes. Why would they lose their shoes?”
    Pepper was unfazed by it all. “There’s stuff