Prologue
Extract from the New York Times
November 26th, 2001
February, 2002
Road to Hazard, Nebraska
Joshua Mackenzie rested his arms on the door and watched the trees roll by on the flat plains. Gnarled and bare, they looked just as lonely as he felt. He still couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was alone. How could it have happened? Not three months ago, he'd been laughing and smiling, clinging to his older brothers' legs and teasing his sisters. He'd never known life without his brothers and sisters; how was he just supposed to accept that they were gone?!? How could they be gone? It was just him and his mother now; that stupid aeroplane had taken his Dad too. They couldn't be gone. They couldn't! These last two months, he'd been like a zombie. Christmas and New Year, all he could remember were the tears. The pain. The loneliness. A month, and neither him, nor his mother had been able to stand it any longer. They'd packed up everything – and shed enough tears to flood the Nile in the process – had given it to the Salvation Army, had put their house up for sale and moved in with Diana's parents. His memories of that hellish January consisted of the tears he cried on his grandmother's shoulder, the tears he'd cried on his grandfather's shoulder and the tears he'd cried on his mother's shoulder. . . and the tears Diana had cried on his own shoulder. One more month, and it became just too much. They had to get away from Tulsa. And so they had. That was the reason they were on this long, flat, bitumen road. With the money they'd gotten from the selling of their house, Diana had bought a small house in Hazard, Nebraska; she couldn't bear to touch the millions of dollars that had been transferred to a separate account from those of her late sons, daughters and husband. . . . Mackie didn't really notice the tiny droplets rolling down his cheeks. It had become too familiar a feeling. Unconsciously burying his head in his arms, he sobbed silently, praying his mother wouldn't notice.
The car slowing down woke Mackie from the sleep he'd drifted into.
"We're here hon," Diana's voice was far from enthusiastic. She stared at the small white weatherboard house. How would she ever be able to think of this place as home? Home for her was in Tulsa, where the constant noise of seven kids, some young and some not so young, pounded down stairs and through rooms, and kept her company as she sorted out another difference of opinion between two young girls over who was the 'hottest' guy in their Dolly magazine, the only magazine that teenage girls read these days. She could almost hear her daughters' voices asking her what she thought of this one's 'six-pack' and which of the two guys had a 'buffer' body. They'd been arguing on the same topic in the airport terminal that accursed 25th November. She could still remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Isaac, still gleaming with the freedom of turning 21 the week before; Taylor, desperately trying to cram in everything he wanted to say to his girlfriend (for that week) over a cell phone before they boarded; Zac, shedding the last threads of childhood awkwardness; Jessie, so eager for womanhood, so she'd be allowed to 'date all the hot guys in Dolly!'; Avie, just at that uncertain stage, not sure whether to consider herself still a child or an adolescent; Zoë, giggling and running around, getting herself lost and delighting in every minute of it. Walker, the small smile he'd given her, that had sent her heart racing. Why had God taken her husband and her children from her? Why hadn't He taken her as well? Because then Mackie would have been alone.
Slamming the car door, Mackie looked at the house, then his mother. He knew where her thoughts had turned.
"I miss them too," he whispered and slipped a hand in hers. She squeezed it and made an unconvincing attempt at a smile.
"Thank-you Mackie,"
Mrs Kilch and Mrs. Serra watched the young boy walk down the street. He had on dark blue jeans and a big dark red jumper over a white shirt. His blond hair was loose and long; these women didn't know it was in remembrance to his brothers. Mrs. Serra shook her head,
"There's something wrong with that boy," she couldn't hide the malice in her voice. They were all suspicious of the boy. Ever since he and his mother had arrived in Hazard, strange things had begun to happen. Like things disappearing from the shelves of the general store and more than one person's lily patches in perfect flower at night being beheaded by morning.
"That boy is not right," Mrs. Kilch's eyes shone with distaste and the stirrings of the dislike and distrust that would spread like weeds among the residents of Hazard over the next eight years and choke any liking they had towards Mackenzie Hanson to death. He was an outsider, so he would always be. They'd make sure of it!