Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set

by Flynn, Connie

  "I'm not going, Zach. Not until I'm sure Papa isn't here."

  "Look around you! This place is a toxic dump! How would he survive even one day?" Christ, he had to stop shouting. It only made her more stubborn. "Look, your pa knows what he's doing. He'll get home just fine, I guarantee it. But we're greenhorns. We can't make it in a place like this."

  She regarded him for a long moment. The hazy light made her squint, causing her to look angrier than he suspected she was. So he waited, praying she'd abandon her fool's errand.

  She got up and started folding the tarp, then turned, hugging it against her." All right. You've convinced me, but I still don't like it."

  Her bitter acquiescence was good enough, and he'd sure as hell take it. He stepped into his jeans, buttoning them quickly, then reached for his jacket. The pockets were somewhat waterproofed and, God, he hoped the unopened pack of cigarettes hadn't gotten soaked. He didn't think he could endure the horrific trip back without them. Luck was with him, and he ripped off the cellophane, then reached into his shirt pocket for his lighter and lit up.

  "We're in such a hurry, yet you take time to smoke," Liz said.

  "You've never been a smoker, have you, cher?"

  "No."

  "Then don't comment on things you don't understand."

  He got his pocket knife and began slicing a strong slender branch from the cypress, holding his cigarette between his teeth. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Liz had folded the tarp and was holding on to it while tapping her feet.

  "I could have looked for him, all the time you're taking."

  "Alone?"

  He saw her glance around, and shrink right before his eyes. He held back a grim smile, and when the branch broke free, he scrapped off the twigs and leaves.

  "Okay, we've got a pole now. Let's get hiking."

  He started for the shore and heard her trudging sullenly behind him. She'd get over it, soon as she saw her father safely back at his cabin. She'd get over it. Unfortunately, when and if they got back, he still had some snooping to do. Jed's death could not go unavenged, and the undeniable evidence of Frank's connection was still buttoned away in his windbreaker. He'd been begging for this break for years, and now he had it.

  He sighed, took another puff from his cigarette, and kept on walking. One thing he knew: If he took Liz's father in for questioning, she wouldn't get over that one quite so easily.

  He was still lost in thought when Liz let out an alarmed squeak. His faraway thoughts slammed into the present, and as they did, he almost emitted a cry of his own.

  The pirogue was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "Guess I'm getting my way, after all." Liz felt no satisfaction in that fact.

  "We pulled that thing so far up." Zach crouched in the vacant spot and picked up a handful of dirt, then tossed it down. "Water level didn't rise. There's no explanation."

  As he stood, Liz saw an unspoken statement on his face. See? See what this place is like? In that instant, the old wives' tales she'd heard as a child flooded her mind. Ankouer, le fantome noir, la maladie malefique, gris-gris bags, candles of blessing, spells and chants, all of it, every one of them.

  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She refused to believe it, refused to even think of it. But that still left the vital question unanswered.

  "What do we do now?"

  Zach looked around. "I guess I could cut cypress branches and use grass to tie them together so we could make a raft."

  Liz nodded eagerly. "Okay."

  He smiled with dark amusement. "Using my pen knife, it shouldn't take more than two or three days to cut enough branches. Weaving the grass shouldn't take much longer. Think we can last that long on two plus bottles of water and a handful of candy?"

  "Do we have other options?"

  "No. But after all that work, there's no guarantee it would float."

  "We could light a big fire. Somebody might see it and send help."

  She wasn't pleased that he responded by looking at her as if she were a child. "Nobody even thinks this place exists, Liz. Which means it's reasonable to conclude it can't be seen from the sky."

  She nodded again, struck too dumb by the harsh realities to find more words. A large-mouth bass bumped belly-up against the sloping shore, and a bit farther out she saw the feathery remains of a little blue heron. There was nothing forgiving about this island. Death surrounded them. Waited for them.

  Her despair felt like a weight, and she could see Zach was also taken in by it. Okay, she told herself, they were in a bad spot. But they couldn't just give in.

  "Then let's get started."

  "What?" Zach sounded as though she'd awakened him from a dream.

  "Building a raft," she said.

  "Why Miss Izzy, I do declare, you're the most optimistic critter I've run into in a long time."

  But somehow her optimism seemed to catch on, and they returned to the cypress trees, where they put together a shaky plan. They traded turns with the knife, with Liz cutting grass when Zach rested after tearing off limbs. During one of Liz's rest periods, he suggested she read more of her mother's journal in hopes of discovering some survival techniques.

  She opened the book, realizing that reading it made her feel closer to her mother and inspired her to go on, even though she was tired and hungry and wanted to drain the water bottles in one long gulp.

  "Says here a certain blue buttercup will purify water," she informed Zach.

  He lifted his head from his labor and arched his eyebrows. "What does the flower look like?"

  "Who knows?" she said, then lamely added, "We might find some."

  Wishing he'd lose that darkly cynical grin, she returned to the book, quickly encountering a dramatic heading.

  Defaits le fantome noir.

  Defeating the black phantom. Nothing she needed to know, but she noticed it was poetry and decided to read it anyway. Zach was right. She had to stop railing against her parents' convictions, and it probably wouldn't hurt to know exactly what they were. Especially since Zach appeared to be catching their infection.

  The guardian can never lose faith in good, purity, and beauty, though faith be not easy to come by in the face of the evil phantom, so I copy this prayer to help her. If she recites it each time her faith begins to wane, she can prevail.

  Beneath this were some simple stanzas.

  PRAYER OF PROTECTION

  Power above, Power divine, I call to thee.

  Shine your light upon my soul.

  Wash over me a love so pure

  My heart is cleansed of hate.

  Glow, glow, bright opal, free your fire.

  Illuminate the shadows. Pave my way.

  Pave my way, pave my way,

  So darkness does not fall upon this earth.

  By the fire within the stone I pledge

  To hold love fast in this dark place.

  The stanza repeated two more times without much change. In one, fear was substituted for hate. In the next one, sorrow was addressed. Liz read on eagerly, surprised at how much the poetry touched her heart, though she'd always been repelled by mysticism before. There was deep spiritual significance here, and she could almost hear her mother reciting it in her soft, gentle voice.

  Zach's shadow fell across her and she looked up at him.

  "This is so . . . oh, I don't know. Listen for a second."

  When she finished reading, he remained silent for a moment, then told her it was a good thing she'd come across it. "You might need it later."

  "Don't," she said.

  He scanned their barren surroundings. "In a place like this, it's hard not to become a true believer."

  "Believe what you want, Zach." She closed the book and climbed to her feet. "I plan to believe we'll get out of here."

  "Good a thing as any, I guess." He handed over his knife and sat on the tarp to take his rest. Liz headed for the weeds, telling herself they would get out of here. They would.

  Noon ar
rived. Zach finished cutting off another branch, added it to a pile of not much more than a dozen, then gave the knife back to Liz. Once more, she searched for clumps of suitable grass. Her task wasn't going smoothly either. Much of the time, the grass simply crumbled, and so far she'd cut barely enough to tie three branches together.

  Gnats worried her neck and arms as she bent over another clump, this one looking a little greener than the rest.

  "Izzy," someone called.

  She looked at Zach, but he was lying on the tarp, an arm over his eyes.

  "Izzy!"

  She turned toward the mountain and saw a figure there.

  "Zach," she yelled. "Maddie's here!"

  A smile coming to his face, Zach bounced to his feet.

  "Maddie!" he called.

  The woman came rushing forward. "Izzy! Zacharie! Come quick. Your papa."

  Liz's hand involuntarily clutched the pill bottle through the denim of her overalls. "His heart gave out." It wasn't a question. She'd known it, known it all along.

  Maddie shook her head. "No, no," she gasped breathlessly. "He gone after Ankouer, and he sure to fall to la maladie malefique. Help him, Izzy. You be the only one who can."

  Maddie extended her hand, and Liz grabbed it, forgetting in the moment how much she despised this woman.

  "What's going on?" Zach yelled out as he crossed the distance between them.

  "Papa," Liz explained. And then she was running with Maddie, running toward the center of the island, toward the mountain. Soon they reached a speckled rock wall, and Maddie veered around it, leading Liz into a sandy, sheltered alcove that was backed by a towering butte. Crates overflowing with supplies were stacked along the rocky wall, and an open bedroll lay on the ground. Otherwise the alcove was empty.

  "Where's my father?" Liz demanded of Maddie.

  The woman pointed to a spot high on the butte. "Up there. He go in the cave where Ankouer live."

  Rugged outcroppings slanted across the face of the butte, and as Liz moved her eyes skyward, she encountered a large, dark hole in the speckled surface. Just then Zach entered the alcove. He asked about her father.

  "Maddie says he's in that cave."

  He stared wordlessly up at the entrance, then scanned the clearing, taking in the provisions, the bedroll, and Maddie's well-kept appearance. Liz had the definite impression that this was the investigator's eye at work. He put on a sudden lazy smile, but she saw a telltale narrowing of his eyes as he turned toward Maddie.

  "How did you get here?"

  Maddie assumed an expression that implied he'd asked a very stupid question. She shrugged. "Rowed out."

  "You rowed out? In a pirogue?"

  "You saying I'm lying?"

  "I'm saying it's unlikely."

  "You city Cajuns. Just cause the bayou hate you, don't mean it ain't friend to us who love it."

  "Stop it, you two!" Liz ordered. "Papa's up there and we have to bring him out."

  "Your father's a grown man, Liz," Zach countered. "Why are you always trying to save him?"

  She wasn't sure of the answer herself. "His heart . . ."

  "Right, and he forgot his pills. For all you know, he has another bottle. Hard as it is to take, he has managed without you all these years." She saw him glance longingly toward a crate where a loaf of French bread in a paper wrapper jutted out enticingly. She felt her stomach rumble.

  "You must not talk of leaving him be, no," Maddie interjected. "Dangers are in there. Le fantome noir."

  Liz saw a barely noticeable tightening in Zach's jaw at Maddie's crazy claim. He looked again at the cave, then back to the bread, then at the cave. "We haven't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. How about waiting? If your pa went in, he'll come out."

  "No! No!" Maddie cried. "He is in mortal danger!"

  "Was he having chest pains?" Liz asked.

  "Yes, bad pain," Maddie replied eagerly. "Very bad."

  "How about his medicine? Does he have some?" Maddie shook her head. "No, he forget it at the cabin."

  Liz knew with absolute certainty that the woman had a hidden agenda, and didn't trust her answers. But in her pocket was her father's pills. If he didn't indeed have another supply, he was at risk while climbing through an airless cave.

  "Go ahead and eat, Zach. I'll get him. Maddie, do you have a flashlight or something?"

  "Frank took—"

  Zach interrupted. "You can't go in there alone. I won't let you."

  "—the flashlight," Maddie finished.

  "You won't let me?" Liz asked.

  "No."

  "But there be candles," Maddie continued, as if Zach and Liz's conversation didn't exist.

  "See," Zach said. "Candles. You especially can't go in with a candle. What if it went out?"

  "She gotta go, Zach. Her daddy need her."

  "If it goes out, I'll relight it," Liz asserted. "Now where are they?"

  Assuming she'd find them in the crate, Liz headed in that direction. Maddie and Zach flanked her, each yammering their concerns, and by the time she had matches and several stick candles in hand, Zach had found something else to delay her.

  "He's got a lantern, Liz. At least take the lantern."

  "It run outta fuel," Maddie informed them, "and we ain't refilled it yet."

  "I don't want to wait," Liz objected. "The candles will do. It's not a very big mountain. The cave can't be that deep since there's nothing but marsh underneath."

  "No, Liz, you aren't going," he replied firmly, closing his hand around one of the candles in her hand. Although she held on stubbornly, it slid from her grasp. "I'll do it instead."

  * * *

  As it turned out, Liz so relentlessly insisted on coming along, that Zach agreed, winning only a single victory. She'd wait outside and wouldn't enter unless he called for help. Maddie weaseled out by crossing herself several times and claiming fear of le fantome, and she had long since fallen from sight hidden by the natural barrier of rock to their left that blocked all view of the lower trail and the campsite.

  He wished his pride permitted him to do the same. He'd just committed to hiking through a black tall of unknown geography with only candle light to guide him. Who knew what was in there? Lizards, maybe. Rats? Spiders?

  Jesus, don't let there be spiders. He'd come away teaching from head to toe after his nightmare, and all through the day he plucked imaginary strands of web off his body. Please, no spiders.

  He'd be better off without this train of thought, so he lit a cigarette. It didn't help his breathing on the steep trail any, but it sure helped his nerves. A sip of Smirnoff's couldn't hurt either, and he reached for his flask, pausing a fraction of a second to check Liz's reaction.

  She didn't blink an eye, and he figured she was winded, too. The first part of the climb she'd talked nonstop, trying to convince him to let her go inside with him, but had fallen into silence about halfway up.

  He uncapped the flask, taking a slow drink, his first for the day. Recognizing that alcohol caused dehydration, he eased up. But Frank had a good stock of water, and shoring up his courage was a better idea than going in the cave quivering like a coward. If there was anything he hated more than spiders, it was cowardice.

  They rounded a large boulder on their right and met up with the mouth of the cave. That was exactly what it looked like, too. A mouth, round, gaping, waiting to swallow him.

  One more sip of vodka and he'd be off. He lingered with it, letting it sting his mouth pleasantly before swallowing, then recapped the bottle and put it away.

  Liz put her hand on his arm, handing him her father's pill bottle. "Thanks for doing this."

  "My pleasure.'

  She smiled, said, "Liar," then kissed him briefly on the mouth.

  "I take it you've forgiven me."

  "Oh, Zach, I'll always forgive you."

  "Remember that, cher."

  Then he took a couple of candles from her, shoved one in his pants pocket along with the vial, and lit the other. As he entered t
he cave, he had two simultaneous hopes. That he didn't run into spiders. And that Frank Deveraux had an irrefutable explanation for the card case and fabric scrap Zach had found behind his house.

  Water dripped on his head and arms from the low ceiling. Rusty, mineral-laden stuff that looked like blood drops in the flickering candlelight. The tunnel began veering off soon after he entered, and became as small and narrow as an enclosed viaduct, forcing him to stoop. The flame reflected off moist walls, only to be absorbed by dryer craggy areas thick with webs.

  The fire quivered from the trembling of his hand, and he hesitated. Sunlight still filtered dimly through the opening, the way out was only a turn away. But Liz would just take the candle and go in his place.

  Continue. He really had no other choice.

  Pebbles crunched beneath his feet, the sound grating on his frayed nerve endings, and the flame in his hand provided only marginal relief because it revealed the heaps of bones cluttering the recesses in the walls. A stench emanated from one of the spots, a stomach-turning combination of rotting flesh and gasoline. When he got closer, he saw the scorched mask of a raccoon. He stumbled back, trying very hard to convince himself it was a coincidence. Ignoring the slime, he moved to the opposite wall of the cave and eased his way around the dead creature.

  Ankouer wasn't very good to his servants, he thought. Used them, sucked their essence to sustain himself, then allowed them to crumble to dust. Was there no end to his need?

  For a moment, these thoughts consumed him, and when he realized where they led, he halted them with a shock. That whispered legend meant to scare children into obedience had no credence even though everything around him, every event they'd endured, said it did.

  Sunlight had vanished long ago, and Zach let the flame be his guide. Outside its small circle the darkness was so complete it seemed he might plunge into a vacuum by taking another step. The walls curved again, getting narrower and lower. Zach hunkered farther down, creeping slowly, wary of losing his footing on the patches of slimy moss that proved life could exist without light.