Free The Siege by Rick Hautala Page A

about you guys being here for Larry Cole’s funeral, huh?” Lisa said.
    The woods were dark and cool, and the ground was thick with musty, matted leaves. Each step she took gave with spongy softness, and the air was full of a fresh, woodsy smell. Afraid she might trip over a hidden root, Angie didn’t hazard to look up when she responded.
    “A-huh, he was a really good friend of ours,” Angle said, her voice low and throaty. “Did you know him?”
    “I know some people named Cole,” Lisa said, “but not a Larry.”
    Angie didn’t want to say any more about it, and was thankful that Lisa let it drop. They continued along the winding path, down in a dried stream bed and then up another crest, this one quite steep. At the top of the crest, winded, Angie stopped and hung onto a tree branch to catch her breath. There was no way she was used to tramping around like this through the woods.
    “If it’s much further, I’m not gonna make it,” she gasped. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
    “It’s just up there,” Lisa said. She pointed off to the left where the trees seemed most dense. At first, Angie couldn’t see anything. The gloom of the woods closed in on everything. But then she noticed what looked like a peaked roof sticking up through the autumn-stained foliage. The little she could see of the building was weathered gray, the exact color of a hornet’s nest.
    “What is it?” Angie asked, still fighting the burning in her lungs.
    “I told you my secret place,” Lisa said. “Come on.” They started toward the building, and Lisa explained: “When I first moved here, after my parents got divorced, I…”
    “You don’t live with your parents?” Angie asked. Even though she couldn’t really remember her own mother, the idea that Lisa lived without either parent struck her as terrible.
    “No,” Lisa said. “We lived in Connecticut, but my dad was never home much. Finally, he met someone else and ran off. My, grammy’s never told me the whole story, but I’ve heard from other people that he ran off with one of his students. He used to teach philosophy at the University of Connecticut. My mom, I guess, never thought she was much of a mother, so she asked her mom to take me for a while until she could get her life together. That was four years ago.”
    “Gee,” was the extent of Angie’s response as she considered what a tough situation that must have been and maybe still was for Lisa. She felt a little guilty, feeling so sorry for herself when there were other people like Lisa who had to deal with things just as bad, or worse.
    “Anyway,” Lisa said, forcing a smile, “that was a long time ago, and I’ve pretty much gotten used to it.”
    “Do you ever see your folks?”
    Lisa set her mouth in a tight line and shook her head. “My mom comes to visit once or twice a year and she calls me every couple of weeks. It’s been less and less over the years, though. I haven’t seen my dad since…” Her voice caught for an instant. “Since he left us.”
    “Boy, that must’ve been wicked tough on you,” Angie said.
    “Hey, I didn’t bring you out here to give you my sob story,” Lisa said. They had been making their way slowly down the slope the whole time they were talking, and now they broke through the screen of brush that had been hiding Lisa’s “secret place.”
    Angie gasped and couldn’t help but wonder what such a big barn as this was doing out here in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Years ago, maybe a century or so, the land around it might have been cleared, but now big, thick-trunked trees towered over the ancient barn, almost completely hiding it. She could see where some trees had grown up inside the barn, and one was big enough to have pushed its way up through the roof.
    “Pretty neat, huh?” Lisa said, her voice tinged with the pride of ownership.
    Angie nodded agreement.
    Most of the weathered-gray boards still clung to the sides of the barn, although many were loose