The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  “So am I.” For the first time, I felt sorry for Chavez.

  I watched Holly as she drifted off. When she was sound asleep, I went to find some company.

  * * *

  During those next few days Griffin and Kyle hounded us every waking hour to take them out on patrol. Both had been training diligently in the indoor shooting range and were becoming proficient. As time went on, it became more difficult to come up with excuses, so the adults held a meeting while the kids played Xbox games.

  “We need to do it sooner or later,” Landry said. “What if they get into a situation and don’t know what to do?”

  “I’m worried, that’s all,” Holly said. “Kyle acts all tough, but I know he’s scared to shoot someone—even a dragger.”

  “What about Griffin?” I said. “She’s getting pretty good.”

  “Sure, with targets.”

  “It’s time they got some field experience,” Warnick said.

  “I agree,” Quigs said. “It’s time, Holly.”

  “But what about the crazy stepfather?” Holly said. “He might still be out there.”

  “I doubt it,” Warnick said. “I think he got the message to stay clear of this place.”

  “We must vote on it,” Ram said. “All in favor?”

  All of us except Holly raised our hands. She looked around the room and sighed. “Can I restrain?” she said.

  I was the only one who laughed. It had been a long time since she’d done her word-bending. Everyone waited, and then she raised her hand too.

  “I still don’t like it,” she said.

  When we came into the game room, Griffin and Kyle were gun-deep in Left for Dead.

  “I think they’re ready,” Landry said.

  The plan was to take the kids out early the next morning. We would cut a straight path down to the stream, then head back. That was a total distance of around five miles, enough to get the kids used to “hunting.”

  Holly insisted on coming and joined Kyle and Quigs. Griffin went with Warnick and me. On any other day we wouldn’t have taken so many out on patrol, but this was different. We were putting these teenagers in mortal danger and didn’t want any screw-ups.

  Before going out, I saw Kyle with his cell phone. He seemed startled and put it away.

  “Any bars today?” I said.

  “No,” he said, “but I keep checking.”

  We got a late start because Holly insisted on a good breakfast for the kids. In addition to my shotgun, I had my axe. Warnick and Quigs each carried a knife—a Benchmade 9100 SBT—along with their AR-15s. Holly, like the kids, preferred her Glock.

  Going to the stream was uneventful. The air was cool, and I could feel fall coming. In a normal world, we might have enjoyed the birds singing and the squirrels chasing one another up and down the tall, fragrant pine trees. But we were constantly on alert. My stomach was hard and my teeth stayed clenched. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I knew, at any minute, we might encounter a hostile.

  We reached the stream and decided to rest before going back. Holly was the first to spot the horde on a ridge coming towards us. They moved together like a chain gang, dull and unaware. We were scared. While the rest of us watched the draggers, Quigs faced the opposite way to make sure nothing sneaked up on us.

  “How many do you think?” I said.

  “At least twenty,” Warnick said.

  Kyle looked terrified. “I can’t do this.”

  Holly touched his hand and pulled him close. “Yes, you can, Kyle. You know how to shoot. The key is to not panic.”

  “How do you want to do this?” I said.

  “Each of us choose a target,” Warnick said. “Remember, aim for the head. Quigs, I need you looking this way.”

  “They’re too far away,” Griffin said.

  “Don’t waste your ammo on their bodies,” Quigs said. “It’ll just make them mad.”

  “I don’t think they’ve seen us yet,” Holly said. “What if we hide until they move past?”

  “Good idea,” I said. “No use inviting trouble.”

  “Okay, everybody pick a tree,” Warnick said.

  As we split up, a shot rang out, hitting one of the draggers in the shoulder. That alerted the others, and they were already halfway down the ridge. The horde moved as one towards us, like someone had rung the dinner bell.

  “Who fired that shot?” Holly said.

  I kept looking around, but I couldn’t see where the bullet had come from. Then another one whizzed past. “Find a tree!” I said.

  We scattered and found trees to hide behind. Unknown assailants fired at us from one side, and a dragger horde came at us from the other.

  “Any suggestions?” I said to Warnick.

  “The draggers are our first priority. We can’t waste ammo shooting at something we can’t see. Quigs, see if you can get over to the other side.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Griffin and Kyle,” I said, “pick a target and go for the head.”

  “I don’t know …” Kyle said.

  “Now, Kyle!” Griffin said.

  “Kyle,” Holly said. “It’s okay. Pretend it’s Xbox and do it.”

  Instead, he dropped his weapon and ran into the dense foliage.

  “Kyle!” Holly said.

  “Leave him,” Warnick said. “Focus on the draggers.”

  Warnick was in his element. He took down three with clean shots to the head. Holly and I fired several times. I kept firing, hitting one as it rushed down the incline.

  “Griffin, shoot,” I said. I watched as she tried to calm herself. “Stay steady.”

  She bit her lip and took aim. I laughed when she took down a dragger coming right at us with a clean shot through the mouth. I gave her shoulder a squeeze as the dragger fell, the back of its head blown out, tripping the others coming down behind it.

  It took only a few minutes for us to finish off the last of the horde. When it was over, Griffin put away her weapon, sat on her haunches and shivered. Holly wrapped her arms around the trembling girl and held her close.

  Quigs had been across the way, out of sight, taking down draggers. He wandered back towards us, grinning. “That was a good day’s work.”

  Suddenly a shot tore through his shoulder, above his body armor. He staggered back, dazed. Another bullet ripped out a piece of his neck.

  We turned and saw the attackers coming at us. I was sure they were Red Militia. As they moved in, we took cover.

  “What do we do?” I said.

  “They’re human,” Warnick said, “so hit anything you can.”

  “What if Kyle’s out there?” Holly said.

  “Too late.”

  As we fired, they scattered. I saw one go down right away and turned to Holly.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  There were more assailants. If Quigs hadn’t been hit, I was sure we could have handled the situation much better. Now it was up to Warnick. I saw his lips moving as he took aim. Was he praying?

  Holly, Griffin and I each chose a target and tried to take it out. Like the attackers, we had trees protecting us. One thing we had, though, that they didn’t—Warnick’s eyes. I still don’t know how he did it, but he seemed to see through the foliage. He would wait a moment, notice something and fire. Each time he did this, a man screamed and cursed.

  We stayed like this for an hour. We weren’t sure how many we’d taken out, but we knew there were more still out there. The attackers must have gotten impatient, because they decided to storm us.

  “Pick a target,” Warnick said.

  There were five left. Warnick took out the first, then a second with shots to the head. Holly and I each wounded one in the chest, and Griffin hit one in the legs. Screaming, they all went down. Warnick crawled on his belly and put a bullet into each attacker’s head. He didn’t even check to see what state they were in.

  It was too late for Quigs. He was bleeding out.

  “Let’s try to get him back to the
compound,” Holly said.

  Warnick examined him and found the bite mark on his left hand. It was bleeding.

  “Quigs,” he said. “Were you bitten? Quigs!”

  His eyes glassy, Quigs looked at Warnick and nodded. Warnick did his best to stop the bleeding, but we knew it was over. Quigs became quiet and stopped breathing. Warnick gave him CPR, but it was no use.

  “Sorry, man,” Warnick said, getting to his feet.

  Without hesitation, Warnick aimed his weapon and shot Quigs in the face, startling all of us. Wiping his nose, he took the weapons and ammo off Quigs and turned to us.

  “Let’s get back,” he said.

  “Wait, what about Kyle?” Holly said.

  “Too dangerous.”

  “We can’t leave him. Dave, tell him.”

  “He’s not out there,” Griffin said. Her voice sounded strange and monotone.

  “What?” Holly said. “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  A massive explosion rocked the forest floor, knocking us to our knees and sending birds screeching into the sky. At first I thought a Black Dragon helicopter had crashed. As we got to our feet, we saw the billows of black smoke spreading across our field of vision.

  “The compound,” Holly said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Betrayed

  I knew that Kyle had betrayed us when we saw the compound.

  A noxious black cloud of fumes greasy with gasoline hung like a fog over the property. Nearby trees burned fiercely. A huge crater next to the main building revealed the still-glowing remains of the fuel tank. Everything was in ruins. Thick smoke poured out of the front door, which lay several feet away in the driveway. The gate was down, and several burning vehicles we didn’t recognize stood outside.

  Men’s bodies were scattered on the ground, with bites over their arms and legs. Nearby our dogs lay dead, some with fresh bullet wounds.

  Our eyes stung and our throats closed from the acrid smell. We recognized two of the dead men as Ben and Aaron. The rest, we assumed, were nailheads.

  Holly ran to Ben and Aaron and checked for any sign of life. There was none. “Oh no! Please, God, no!”

  Raising our weapons, we searched the area for more nailheads. For good measure, Warnick put a bullet into the head of each of the bodies. The heat coming from inside the house was intense and prevented us from entering. So we made our way around the main building.

  We found several vehicles on the property, including the ones the nailheads had come in. Most sat low to the ground on tires melted from the intense heat of the explosion. A tree had fallen onto the cab of my truck, crushing it. The Humvee was burned out. But the motor home looked intact.

  We checked the generator building and found it to be in good shape. The door was still locked. Ram had given Warnick an extra set of keys, so he unlocked the thick metal door. Inside, it was quiet except for the sound of the generator.

  After the search, we regrouped in front of the building. It was late afternoon. Each of us had water and a few energy bars. The only weapons and ammo were what we carried. We had to assume that Ram and Landry were dead, trapped in the burning basement. It would be hours before we could get inside to check.

  “What caused the explosion?” I said.

  “Maybe the place was booby-trapped,” Warnick said. “I wouldn’t put it past Ram.”

  “So he blew it up?” Holly said.

  “He could’ve had a good reason,” I said. “We need to get out of here. Find someplace safe.”

  “And where would that be?” Holly said.

  “I don’t know, I—”

  “Well, there’s no place, so shut up, Dave!”

  “Stop yelling at him,” Griffin said.

  “Can you stop for two seconds?” Warnick said. “I’d like to get away as much as you, but I’m tired and I don’t feel like driving around all night. I suggest we stay in the generator building for the night and leave in the morning.”

  “Okay,” Holly said, touching my arm.

  We tried to make the best of our situation. As thorough as Ram was, it never occurred to him that this building would ever be used for shelter. There were no blankets, food or water, just the sleeping bag we’d given Kyle when he was locked in. Warnick and I insisted that Holly and Griffin share it.

  The cement was unforgiving as we sat close together. Warnick was quiet, fingering his AR-15. A question burned on my lips, but it was Holly who cut to the heart of it.

  “Griffin, I think you know what happened.”

  The girl looked away.

  “Before we left today,” I said, “I found your brother with his cell phone. Was he texting someone?”

  She hugged her knees, shaking her head as if to make it all go away.

  “He contacted your stepfather, didn’t he?” I said. “He set us up.”

  Holly touched Griffin’s arm. “Is that what happened?”

  Griffin looked at the floor, her voice almost inaudible. “It was Kyle. I didn’t want to go along with it. He made me promise not to say anything.”

  “Go along with what?” Warnick said.

  “Travis promised me and Kyle that he would stop … hurting me if we agreed.”

  “So you betrayed us,” Warnick said.

  Griffin buried her face against Holly’s shoulder. “He told us Ormand needed those weapons to fight. And that you were killing innocent people. I—we didn’t know you back then. We believed him.”

  “Those other men were already waiting for us down by the stream?” I said.

  “They told Kyle where to run so he wouldn’t get shot. Then he went back to the compound with Travis.”

  “They figured they’d kill us in the forest while the others took out everyone up here,” Warnick said.

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Holly said. “Ram would never have let those guys in.”

  “He would if they had Kyle,” I said.

  Warnick nodded. “Ram and Landry would’ve assumed the rest of us were already dead. Maybe they promised to release the boy in exchange for food and weapons.”

  “But what about the explosion?” Holly said. “And we never found Kyle’s body.”

  “Or Travis’s,” I said.

  “They might still be out there somewhere,” Warnick said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Griffin said. “I know I should’ve told you, but I was scared. They promised not to hurt anyone.”

  “Yeah,” Warnick said.

  “My brother didn’t mean it. He … he was trying to protect me.”

  We no longer trusted Griffin. Warnick took away her weapon.

  “I’m sorry, Griffin,” Holly said. “People died today because of you.”

  Griffin crawled off by herself and sat, holding herself and whimpering. Though Holly and I hated to see her this way, we knew that from now on she would have to be watched.

  * * *

  Sometime after midnight I awoke, sore and cold. When my eyes opened, I found Warnick staring at the building’s steel door, his weapon in his hands. Seeing that I was awake, he motioned for me to be quiet and moved towards the door and listened.

  It was hard to hear anything outside. He waved me over and I went, carrying my axe.

  “On the count of three,” he said. “One … two … three.”

  He unlocked the door, and we stood ready to kill whatever was out there. But there was nothing. As Warnick moved closer, a spiky hand grabbed his arm.

  It was Kyle.

  Only not Kyle but a dragger hell-bent on tearing Warnick to pieces. Half of the body was charred from the explosion. Part of the skull was exposed, white in the moonlight, amid shredded skin. One of the eyes looked deflated. And one arm was raw and bit, all the fingers chewed off. The worst part—he still reeked of smoke and gasoline.

  Warnick tried to get away, but Kyle’s grip was strong. I raised the axe and hacked off his arm. The disembodied hand clung to Warnick, who struggled to pry it off.

  I took anot
her swing and brought it down on Kyle’s neck, partially decapitating him. Warnick finished him with a shot through the cheekbone.

  By now Holly and Griffin were next to us, frozen with fear.

  “It’s not fair,” Griffin said. “He was doing it for me. It’s not fair!” Sobbing, she ran out past us and into the night.

  “Griffin!” Holly said. “Dave, we have to get her.”

  “This might be another trap,” Warnick said.

  “We can’t leave her alone out there.” Holly looked at me. “You know I’m right.”

  We gathered our supplies and weapons. There was a good chance we wouldn’t be coming back. And we were about to break rule number three—never go into the forest at night.

  “Where do you think she went?” I said.

  “I’m guessing she’s trying to find her stepfather,” Warnick said.

  “What about the stream?” Holly said.

  We stood in the blackness of the night, waiting for our eyes to adjust. The moon had drifted behind a bank of clouds, making it difficult to see. Warnick told us that often this was when people were injured—stepping into a hole and twisting their ankle or breaking a limb. And we hesitated to use flashlights for fear of attracting draggers or nailheads. Thank God we still had the luminescent paint to guide us.

  I didn’t understand how Griffin could have gotten as far as the stream. We called out to her, but all we got back was a whisper of a wind through the trees. Then it began to rain.

  The rain came down in sheets as we made our way through the forest. It was cool, not cold, and we got drenched. We slowed as we went downhill, trying not to slip on the mud and pine needles.

  “I still think this is another trick,” Warnick said.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  I had seen the look in Griffin’s eyes, and I wanted to believe she was genuinely scared and guilty over the death of her brother. I don’t know, maybe I was being stupid. I knew Holly felt the same.

  “We have to find her before a dragger does,” Holly said.

  Halfway down the hill, Warnick put up his hand. We stopped and listened. At first I didn’t hear anything. Then I was certain I heard a dog barking. We waited. It barked again, then whimpered as if warning someone.