Panic set in then. His heart began to race; his skin started to crawl. Respiration doubled. The heat in the box was incredible and immediately brought beads of sweat out on his face.
He made fists and pounded on the board above. Thrust his knees upward and kicked at it. But his attempts to break free were futile. The wood felt like it was several feet thick.
Fear strangled him, and for a moment he lost his breath. His throat closed, and he had to swallow hard to get it open again. But it didn't last.
The darkness mocked him, laughed at him, tormented him. He was lost in it, forever a captive of the lightless ones.
Hands started groping him, tearing at his clothes and skin, pulling his hair, dragging him down, down, down. They prodded and pulled, their claws scratching and biting.
And still he fought the box, hammered the wood with his fists and feet, tried to yell, to scream, to wail.
It struck him then, like a shock of electricity, and he fell limp, sucking in the stale air.
He was Jimmy.
And he was buried alive.
PART FOUR
Fear defeats more people than any other one thing in the world.
-RALPH WALDO EMERSON
Twelve
OB AWOKE IN A CLAMMY SWEAT GASPING FOR AIR. He could still feel the wood under his nails, the splinters in his flesh. It took a minute or so to reorient himself to reality. He was in the cabin, on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. The box wasn't real; he was on the up side of the earth.
But the darkness in the cabin was every bit as real as the subterranean gloom. The oil lamp had gone out, and no light from the moon-ruled night found its way between the four walls. Rob sucked in a few deep breaths. His mind wasn't exactly churning with well-greased gears. Instead, it skipped and sputtered like an old junker with a one-way ticket to the salvage yard. He'd dreamed he was Jimmy again, seeing life through his son's eyes, experiencing what Jimmy experienced.
And he'd been buried alive. Panic shot through Rob's veins at the implication. His boy, his little buddy, was buried alive somewhere in those woods.
He tried to move, but fear nailed him to the floor. It was too dark. His heart was a jackhammer in his chest. His lungs were doing double duty. Sweat seeped from his pores, and his hands jittered uncontrollably.
But Jimmy needed him.
Forcing his legs to lift him, Rob stood and stilled himself to listen. The last thing he wanted was to wake either Asher or Juli and have them try to stop him. He knew what he was doing was crazy, but he had to do it. And if it meant taking on every darkling out there, then he was willing to go that far. Nothing was going to keep him from saving his Jimmy.
To his right Juli slept soundly, the rhythm of her breathing slow and even. To his left, on the cot, Asher snored lightly and grunted something incoherent. Rob knew the door was to his left and in front at a forty-five-degree angle from where he now stood. He also knew he had a clear path to the door. But where was the light? Where had he put it when he returned from the woods earlier?
On the floor by the door. He remembered setting it there when he came in. Slowly and methodically, he slipped on his sneakers and crept across the floor, one step at a time, pausing between each stride to listen for the sound of sleep, and each time he found it.
Finally, he reached the door. Feeling along the wall, he located the jamb, followed it to the floor, and found the light. His only hope was that there was enough battery power left.
Leaving the light on the floor, he lifted the two-by-six with both hands. It scraped as only wood on wood can but wasn't loud enough to wake either of the sleepers. Quietly, soundlessly, he leaned it against the wall. Then, as slowly as he would add one wall to a house of cards, he raised the latch and pulled on the door. It opened on smooth hinges.
Reaching for the light, he took it in one hand and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him. The outside world greeted him with a loamy odor and was not near as dark as inside the cabin. Through the leafy canopy he could see a clear sky and a just-past-full moon. Dappled moonlight colored the forest floor, lighting his surroundings enough that he could see without the light. That was good. That meant he'd only need it in case of emergency, in case the darklings decided to come out to play.
At once, he felt a pull. Not anything physical like a hand in his or tugging at his shirt, but something unseen, something inward. It was as though he were tethered to Jimmy, and his son was reeling him in, drawing him with an invisible thread.
So without thinking or analyzing, Rob gave himself to the call and stepped away from the cabin.
Juli awoke with a start, breathing hard, sweaty. She'd had a dreamless sleep, but still she felt uneasy, frightened, nervous. That feeling was there, screaming at her. Something was wrong.
Something ... was ... wrong.
"Rob," she whispered, trying to keep her voice low. But there was no reply. "Rob."
Panic poked at her lungs; her rib cage seemed to shrink. She needed to calm herself and focus. Taking a couple deep breaths, she exhaled a silent prayer.
Then, "Rob. You awake?"
Still no response.
She leaned to her right and felt where Rob should have been... and felt only blanket. He was gone.
Something was wrong.
Juli rubbed her hands over her face, pulling off the sleep cobwebs still clinging there. Think about this. There were only two options. He was either in the cabin or not.
Again, she whispered, this time a little louder, "Rob. You there?"
Nothing but the steady half-snore of Rip van Wiggins.
Throwing off her blanket, Juli stood and padded softly across the floor to the door of the cabin. She felt for the twoby-six and found it gone as well.
So he was outside the cabin. Two more options: either he'd slipped outside to relieve himself, or he'd gone after Jimmy.
Lifting the latch as slowly as possible, she pulled open the door and stepped outside. The air was cool and still. Above the treetops a moon glowed somewhere in the sky. She couldn't see it, but she could see its soft light dusting the leaves. She listened for any sound of Rob or anything else.
But the forest was uniquely quiet. As noiseless as a sarcophagus. And, honestly, it creeped her out.
"Rob." Her voice seemed to echo in the stillness. And no answer came. A chill spread over her skin as if a cold gust of wind had blown through the forest, but as before, no leaves stirred. He was out there, alone, in the dark.
A sense of failure overcame her. She'd lost him. This wasn't part of the plan.
She remembered her words: "I can't do it."
And the response: "You're ready... this is your calling."
Her calling. Her calling wasn't to sleep while he snuck off in the middle of the night to face the darkness alone. What if she hadn't awakened? Where would he be then? Was she ready?
"God be with him," she said aloud. "And me."
Stepping back inside the cabin, she pushed the door closed without a sound. On her blanket again, she knelt and rested her elbows on the floor in front of her. There she prayed.
Sometime later-Juli was unaware of how much time had elapsed-she rose, slipped on her sneakers, took the Maglite in her hand, and opened the cabin door again, this time with the full intent of not returning unless it was with Rob at her side.
Leaves crunch under the boy's feet. He tries to stop, but the man pulls him by his arm. Pulls him hard enough that it hurts, which only scares the boy more. He keeps thinking about the sound of the dogs barking and the other man screaming. It was such an awful sound.
The man stops him then and pulls off the blindfold. "There," he says. "Better, isn't it?"
It is better, but the boy neither says so nor nods his head. He looks around for the dogs, but they aren't there. He and the man are now in the woods. Tall trees surround him and block out most of the light. Only a few beams of sunshine peek through. They look like white light sabers stretching from the green leaves above to the brown leaves on
the ground. Why would the man bring him to the woods to meet Mommy and Daddy?
The man takes him by the arm again and says, "Let's keep marching, little soldier. Mommy and Daddy are waiting. Let's pretend we're on a secret mission, and your daddy is the commander. We have to meet him to get our next orders. Sound like fun?"
Again, the boy doesn't do anything. The man squats down in front of him. His skin is so white it almost looks like the flour Mommy uses to bake cookies. And his eyes are so dark, like two black marbles set in his head. "Listen, little soldier. I need you to be brave. We have a difficult journey back to see the commander. We need to move fast, and I need you to keep up, OK?" He looks at the boy a few seconds. His marble eyes seem to grow wider. "OK?"
Finally, the boy nods. The man scares him, but if he's going to take him to Mommy and Daddy, he should probably do what he says.
"Great." The man stands tall and pushes his shoulders back. "Now then, let's begin. Follow me, soldier."
They set off through the woods, not following any kind of trail, just pushing past little skinny trees and stepping over fallen branches. Back home, the boy plays in the woods a lot but not like this. He always sticks to the trails. Mommy is always telling him to be careful of snakes and poison ivy. He knows the saying "Leaves of three, let it be" and watches carefully for leaves of three while he's walking behind the man.
The man turns his head and talks over his shoulder. "We're looking for headquarters, so keep your eyes peeled."
After a while, the boy begins to get tired of walking. His legs feel heavy, and his arms hang straight. He slows down, and the space between him and the man gets bigger.
The man turns his head and notices this. He stops and heads back toward the boy. He looks angry. "Soldier," he says. His lips are tight, like he's been sucking on a lemon. "We need to move fast. Our mission is waiting, and the commander is waiting too. And we both know who the commander is, right?"
The boy nods. The commander is Daddy. Or so the man says.
"We don't want to keep the commander waiting longer than he has to. Now march like a good soldier and keep up." He turns around and starts walking again.
The boy hurries to catch up and tries to stay right behind the man, but he's walking too fast and there are too many branches to step over and bushes to go around. Soon the boy gets tired again and slows down. He needs to sit and rest.
Again the man stops and comes back for him. This time he looks really angry, and it scares the boy. His white skin has turned red around his face and neck. He grabs the boy's arm and jerks him forward. "Let's go, soldier; no time for dawdling."
The boy falls and lands on his hands and knees. The man loses his grip but quickly finds it again. He yanks the boy to his feet, again hurting his shoulder. The boy starts to cry. He's afraid the man will really hurt him. He seems so angry all of a sudden.
The man stoops over so his face is real close to the boy's, close enough the boy can see blue veins running under the man's whitebut-now-red skin. His face is all scrunched up like he's in pain. "If you don't keep up, do you know what they do to bad soldiers?"
The boy says nothing.
The man squeezes his arm harder and shakes him. "Do you?"
The boy shakes his head. He's still crying and wants to wipe his tears, but he's afraid to, so he just lets them run down his cheeks. They reach his lips and taste salty, then his chin and tickle it.
"They let the dogs have them. All I have to do is whistle real loud, and the dogs will come."
The boy believes he would do it too. He starts to shake and feels sick in his stomach.
The man starts walking and keeps his grip on the boy's arm. "Not much longer now," he says.
They walk a little ways more until the boy trips on a branch and falls again. The man curses and tugs on the boy's arm, but the boy can't get up and gets dragged along. He tries to get his feet under him, but with the man dragging him and cursing, he just can't do it. He starts to cry harder and louder.
The man stops and yanks him up hard. He grabs the boy's chin and squeezes until it hurts. His face gets real calm then, and he smiles a little. "Kid, I'd like watching the dogs eat you then pick their teeth with your bones, but I have more enjoyable things in mind for you."
He pulls the boy along by the arm another few minutes then stops. He's looking at something to the right. The boy looks too and, through the trees, sees an old cabin, falling apart and spooky. The roof sags in the middle, and the whole thing leans to one side, like a strong wind would blow it over. There are no windows and one door that looks about ready to fall off the hinges.
The man starts again and tugs the boy with him. When they reach the cabin, the man opens the door and pushes the boy inside. He falls and scrapes his knees. More tears run down his cheeks.
"Where's my mommy and daddy?" the boy says.
The man grins and tilts his head to one side. "I'm sorry, son. Mommy and Daddy won't be coming for you. They've got other plans." Then he closes the door, and the boy hears something heavy, like metal, bang up against it. Leaves crunch as the man walks away.
The boy goes to the door and pushes on it, but it won't move. It's locked tight. He looks around the cabin, but there is no way out. There's a hole in the roof, about the size of a TV, but it's too high for him to reach. He sits in the corner, hugs his knees, and begins to sob.
For the first time since awakening, Rob looked at his watch: two ten. Morning would not come for over three hours. He thought of the cabin and the sleepers inside. The door was unlocked now, and sleeping, they would be easy prey for the darklings and their demon dogs. What concerned him more, though, was Jimmy, underground, suffocating, scared, crying for help. Drawing his daddy in.
Asher and Juli would be safe. If the darklings were out for the night, they'd be after Rob anyway. That thought put ice in his veins, and he momentarily considered returning to the safety of the cabin. But the pull Jimmy had on him was too strong. He couldn't break it now. It was the bond only a daddy and son can share.
Around towering loblolly pines and thick-trunked oaks and through stands of honeysuckle and tangles of wild raspberry he walked, accompanied by only the sound of his own footfalls in the dry leaves. Occasionally, he thought he heard another pair of footsteps mimicking his, but when he stopped, there was only silence. No screams echoed in the distance. No barking broke the stillness. In fact, the quietness of the deep forest was so eerie it seemed to be a noise all its own.
Finally, he came to a clearing where the inner tug ceased. This was it, the site. The light in his hand suddenly felt like an anvil, so he set it down by a tree. He looked around the clearing, frantically searching for some disturbed ground, loose soil, anything that would mark a grave.
There, by a smooth-barked beech. The leaves had been pushed aside and the ground depressed, like a giant footprint. He rushed to it and dropped to his knees. The soil was moist and soft, recently loosened. Without even thinking, he began digging with his hands.
In a matter of moments sweat was dripping from his nose, and his breathing had become labored. His fingers began to ache, but still he dug, scooping handfuls of dirt and tossing them to the side. The smell of decaying leaves and wood was strong in his nostrils.
Whether it was reality or just a trick of his brain he wasn't sure-he could no longer tell the difference between the two-but he thought he heard Jimmy's voice calling to him from beneath the ground. He stopped digging and put his cheek to the dirt to listen. It was Jimmy. He was there, feet below Rob, calling to him, begging to be set free. Rob dug even more crazily now, throwing dirt this way and that. His chest heaved, saliva leaked from his mouth, and sweat ran a steady ribbon off his nose and chin.
"Jimmy. Hang on, buddy. Daddy's coming."
His arms worked like pistons, plunging his hands into the dark dirt then lifting them out again. Every muscle in his shoulders and back screamed with fatigue.
But still he dug, pushing himself to go faster and faster. The trees ar
ound him stood in stunned silence, unable or unwilling to lend aid.
"Ahhh, c'mon. Dig. Dig. Jimmy. I'm coming."
Jimmy's voice was steadily growing louder and clearer. He was calling to Rob, urging him on, begging him not to stop. He sounded so small and pitiful. So alone. So scared.
"Jimmy!"
Then the voice came from outside the hole. Jimmy's voice. From behind Rob. He stopped digging and spun around. Sweat dripped in his eye, stinging, and he rubbed it away. There, standing not twenty feet from him was his son, his little boy.
Jimmy.
Thirteen
T WAS GOOD. ALMOST TOO GOOD. SHIELDS HAD TAKEN the bait and followed the scent of lies laid for him.
While crouching behind a tangle of thistles, blending beautifully with the darkness only the forest can offer, he watched with great curiosity as Shields dug feverishly in search of his son. The man's determination and passion intrigued him. And his fear excited him.
Again, he thought how easy it would be to step from his hiding place and pounce on the unsuspecting Shields. But his curiosity was not yet satisfied. He had more to do, further to push, deeper to go. Shields was not fully broken yet, but he would be soon. Then the time would come. His underlings would play a role, and he would let them have their way, but not until he'd taken the vengeance that was rightfully his first.
Showing Shields the boy was nothing less than an act of genius, like allowing the fish to taste the bait before digging the hook deep into its mouth. Shields was now hooked. There was no escape. The only thing left to do was to play him until it got boring and then dispose of him.
He was going to enjoy watching the fear grow in Shields's eyes and watching the life fade from them, two candles slowly burning out.
"A little longer, my friend," he whispered into the darkness that concealed him. "A little longer, and you'll get what you want. What you've been waiting for so patiently."
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