by Brian Harmon
“Even after all this time? She wanted me to save her, but… From what? She’s been waiting almost a year for me as it is.”
“She’s contacting you during times when you’re being attacked psychically. The communication is obviously psychic. Whatever she needs saved from, it’s probably psychic in nature, too. And I’m kind of living proof that time isn’t always a constant when dealing with the psychic.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Isabelle waited thirty-six years for him to come and save her from the Altrusk house.
“I’m just happy you found your way back.”
“Me too. Lucky for me I heard you calling me.”
“Huh?”
“I kept hearing a voice telling me to come back. I thought it was you.”
Again, she paused to review his thoughts. “I can’t do that. As far as I know, I can’t talk to you unless you’re holding a phone.”
“Then who was calling out to me?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t know how I feel about not being the only girl in your head… I think that makes me a little jealous.”
He considered it for a moment. She was right, of course. He didn’t hear her in his head. It had only ever worked the other way around. So who was it?
“Was it the same voice you heard outside the municipal tunnels?” she asked. “The one that told you to ‘enter the darkness’?”
Now that she mentioned it, it did sound like the same voice. But whose voice was it? It was definitely different from the odd-eyed woman.
This was becoming a little overwhelming. He’d grown used to Isabelle, even quite partial to her, but he wasn’t sure he cared for all these other voices invading his mind.
“You know what? None of this matters,” she reminded him. “You’re inside the old schoolhouse. You can go find that skanky woman now.”
“Goody for me,” said Eric.
But before he could begin exploring, he was distracted by the sound of Spooky scratching at one of the lockers. He walked over to it and opened it up. There, at the very bottom, covered in half a century of dust, was another bottle.
“You found Hector’s next letter!” said Isabelle.
“Well, Spooky did. How the hell does he know?”
“There’s something up with that cat. Just hurry up and read it!” And with that, Isabelle disconnected the call and was gone.
Eric wasted no time. He smashed the bottle, collected the papers from the broken glass and began to read.
Chapter Fifty-One
The back yard was littered with dead birds when I left the shed. I counted eight that I saw. I can’t even guess how many more were there. I even saw a dead squirrel. It didn’t frighten me this time. I understood now. The fat suit’s power came from the life forces of smaller creatures. That’s why dead birds rained down whenever he tortured someone. And when I used the spell from my book to turn that power back on him, I magnified it somehow, drawing much more power and causing even more carnage.
Don’t ask me how I knew these things. I just did. It’s like the way I suddenly knew how to read that spell. It just came to me when I needed it most.
It must be the book. Even when it’s not with me, it speaks to me.
That’s even more proof that it belongs to me.
After I hid the last letter under the porch, I left the back yard and made my way to the front. I figured I’d have to walk all the way back to the old folk’s home to find my bike, but it was lying in the grass near the driveway. The tall man must’ve brought it here when he brought me. I guess he didn’t want to leave it where someone might find it and connect it to him.
Luckily, the tall man wasn’t home. The Impala wasn’t in the driveway and I didn’t meet it as I was leaving. I rode all the way across town without any trouble.
It was good to have the bike, because I was feeling really sore inside. The fat man’s torture must’ve bruised me up inside. Everything inside me ached. It almost felt like my bones were hurting. But there was nothing I could do about it then. I had work to do.
I went back to the cemetery on Boxlar Road. Remember how I told you I hid the book where I knew no one could find it? I hid it the same way I hid the first bottle. I already knew you were going to find that letter, so I dug it back up and moved it to another gravesite. I wrapped the book in a trash bag and buried it under the bottle. If anyone had managed to dig up the book, they also would’ve found the bottle. And the only way you could’ve found that letter was if I returned to the cemetery and moved it back. That’s how I knew it could never be found. Only I can put the bottle back where you found it and since you found it, I obviously was going to make it back.
For a little while, I found myself wondering if you were real, though. I couldn’t shake the thought that if you turned out to be only in my head, then maybe my logic was flawed. But now that I’ve escaped that shed, I know better.
I can do this.
But I need the book.
It saved me from the fat man. It could save me from the tall one, too. But I needed another look at it.
I put the bottle back for you to find and I took the book with me. I rode home with it, because it was already getting close to dinner time. I was trapped in that shed longer than I realized.
My parents didn’t notice the knot on my head. My hair mostly hid it, but also they weren’t really paying attention to me. They seemed to be busy not talking to each other again. I ate quickly and I told my mom I thought I was getting a cold and was going to bed.
I spent the next few hours studying the book. The vast majority of it was still a complete mystery to me, but I realized that I could understand a line here and there. I found the spell that let me counter the fat suit’s torture power. I found a few other spells, too. I could read them. I could pronounce them. But I didn’t fully understand them. I wasn’t sure what they did.
Maybe they’d come in useful before the night was over.
When my parents had both gone to bed, I filled my bag with anything I thought I might need, including the book, and then turned out the light and slipped out through the window.
I jumped on my bike and headed straight for the high school.
This was it. I was going to put a stop to whatever they were doing. I was going to save Creek Bend.
No matter what.
But it wasn’t going to be simple.
I wasn’t even off my street yet when headlights appeared behind me.
I looked back and saw the black Impala speeding toward me.
I’m not going to lie. I may have said some pretty bad words. I definitely thought them.
I jumped the curb and crossed onto the sidewalk. The Impala didn’t follow me off the road, but it kept pace with me, following me down the next street as I cut the corner through Mr. Seager’s yard.
This was bad. I wasn’t ready yet. I didn’t have any kind of plan because I had no idea what to expect once I got there. I was hoping to be able to sneak around, but the fat suit told me that the tall one could sense me. I guess it was always inevitable that he would see me coming.
I just never expected him to be lurking in my neighborhood.
I was just assuming at this point that he already knew I’d killed his partner. Maybe he was mad about that.
I peddled through an intersection without even pausing. The Impala cruised along behind me, keeping pace.
Did he have a gun? How easy would it be for him to just aim out the window and put a bullet in my head? But I wasn’t sure these guys even used guns. The fat one certainly didn’t need a gun. For all I knew, this guy could set me on fire with his mind.
I reached the end of the next block and sped up to shoot across that intersection, too. I’m not sure what made me do it, but at the last second, I hit my brakes and skidded to a stop. At the same time, I heard the Impala’s engine rev and it suddenly turned.
If I hadn’t stopped when I did, it would’ve hit me as I crossed.
The tall man in the gray suit was taking th
is seriously.
I didn’t linger. I turned left and crossed the street as he turned the Impala around and came after me again.
My heart was pounding now. I was sweating. My legs were already starting to ache.
I cut through a narrow alley between two buildings, crossed the next street and entered a small parking lot. I thought for a second that I’d lost him, but as I turned onto the next street, I found him cruising up behind me again.
Right. He always knew where I was. Something about the way I affected the energy around me…whatever that meant. I forgot about that. It didn’t matter what I did, he was always going to find me. It was impossible to hide from him.
This was terrifying. I was going to die before I even made it to the high school.
I raced on, trying to think of a plan. Where could I go that he couldn’t follow me?
Then I saw the answer directly ahead of me.
The bridge.
I just had to get there without being crushed under the wheels of the Impala from hell.
There was one last intersection between me and the bridge. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him backing off. He was going to make another run at me as I crossed the street.
This time I didn’t stop, instead, I made a hard left.
The Impala revved up and turned. I heard its tires squeal on the pavement as it lurched down the side street.
I braked hard and doubled back.
By the time the Impala screeched to a halt and shifted into reverse, I was already cutting across the intersection and heading for the bridge.
I was either really good at this car chase thing or he was playing with my head. I had a strong feeling it was the latter.
This time, after he’d turned himself around, I heard him floor it. The tires screamed. It was pretty clear that he was done playing games with me.
I peddled as hard and as fast as I’ve ever peddled in my life.
Again, I jumped the curb and crossed onto the sidewalk. The Impala couldn’t get all the way over here. There were streetlamps in the way. But he hugged the curb threateningly, and as the road curved slightly to the left, his headlights glared behind me, casting my shadow ahead of me.
In the insanity of the moment, it looked like my shadow had had enough of this shit and was trying to leave me behind.
I’m not sure why I’d think of something like that while a madman was trying to kill me with his car, but that’s exactly the thought that went through my head. And astoundingly enough, it made me laugh. I was literally chasing after my shadow and laughing like a lunatic as the black Impala closed in on me.
Maybe I really have lost my mind after all.
As I closed the last twenty yards to the bridge, the car finally jumped the curb and made a run at me.
I saw my shadow lurch away. I heard the engine roaring at me. It seemed to be right behind me.
I don’t remember when I stopped laughing and started screaming. And I didn’t care. It didn’t matter.
I made one last desperate attempt for my life and veered hard to the left, cutting across the street toward the other guardrail.
Behind me, I heard something crash as the Impala swerved to follow me. Whatever it was, I prayed it slowed him down enough for me to escape. But before I knew what had happened, I felt the bumper slam into my back tire.
I lurched forward and lost control. In an instant, my bike was knocked out from under me. I hit the pavement and rolled. It was chaos. The world spun around me. The Impala’s tires shrieked. I felt as if I was being wrapped in a sheet of pain. My body bounced across the pavement, skinning my hands and arms, banging my head and scraping my knees.
But somehow my desperation to live was greater than the pain. Almost before I stopped rolling, I picked myself up and took off running.
Behind me, I heard the Impala’s door open.
I jumped the guardrail, stumbled down the embankment and scurried around the concrete abutment of the bridge.
I could hear the tall suit’s footsteps as he ran after me. I didn’t have much time.
Luckily, I knew a little bit about bridges. Did I mention my dad works for the highway department? I probably didn’t.
I inched out toward the edge of the bank and made a jump for the pier cap. There wasn’t much space in the beams, but there was enough for someone my size. I pulled myself up, ignoring the pain in my hands, knees and elbows, and then I began to inch out over the water and deeper into the shadows.
Behind me, I heard footsteps crunching in the gravel.
I froze.
I hoped he’d think I went around the other side, but of course I forgot it was impossible to hide from the tall man.
The footsteps stopped.
I remained perfectly still. I held my breath. I prayed.
Then, strangely enough, I heard him clapping.
“I’m truly impressed,” he called out to me. “You’re a hard kid to kill.”
I didn’t reply. I was still hoping that his weird radar was only an estimate and that while he might know that I was hiding in the substructure of the bridge, that he didn’t know my exact location.
“You know, I think we might be going about this all wrong. We shouldn’t be enemies. I could use someone like you.”
Use me for what? Target practice? I decided to risk inching out a little farther. I had to be careful. There wasn’t much room up here. And there was nothing beneath me but the river. They say the current is deadly. People who fall in don’t always make it back out.
There wasn’t much space for my hands and knees. It was uncomfortable. Painful, even, but I had to force myself to go on.
“As you well already know,” he said, “I’m in need of a new partner. How would you like a job?”
I thought I must’ve misheard him. A job? What the hell was he talking about?
“Pays really well. No diploma or experience required. It’s one of those natural talent things. And you’ve got plenty of that. What do you say? You want to get out of this shit town and make a real life for yourself?”
I guess there was no hard feelings about what I did to the fat guy. He was clearly already over it.
“We can leave tonight. By this time next week, you’ll be living like a king. You can have anything you want. And I do mean anything.”
Anything I wanted? That was a tempting offer. Too tempting. I was reminded of Zachery and his friends going on about how all their dreams would come true and I felt my stomach turn at the thought.
“Or anyone.”
I couldn’t help it. I immediately thought of Sherry. Was it possible? Could these people really do something like that?
“You like that idea. I can tell. Your energy just thrummed. I can see it.”
My energy “thrummed”? What the crap did that mean? I’m pretty sure he was just making up words. I didn’t thrum. Sherry doesn’t make me thrum. I was not thrumming.
“Anyone you want. Just name her. Together, we can make her yours.”
A high-paying, mysterious job and my own Sherry waiting for me at home every night… Sure I spent a few seconds thinking about it. Cut me some slack. I’m twelve.
“Just give me the book,” he said.
“It’s my book!” I snarled. I don’t know what made me do it. I couldn’t help it.
Several shots rang out then. Bullets rang off the beams around me, nearly making me lose my balance.
That answered the question of whether these guys carried guns.
Now I knew.
There was silence for a moment. Then he said, “I’m guessing I missed.”
I resisted the urge to curse at him.
“Come on, kid. You can’t win. You’re just going to get yourself killed.”
“If you kill me, the book goes in the water with me,” I told him. I figured it would at least keep him from shooting me. But I was wrong. He fired another shot into the beams.
“That’s acceptable,” he replied.
“It’ll be destroyed,�
� I warned.
“You can’t destroy that book,” he informed me. “It won’t let you.”
I guess that explained why the book didn’t look as old as I believed it to be…
“So go ahead and drown. I’ll just take it off your soggy corpse.”
This was not going as well as I’d hoped.
“In fact, let me give you a hand with that.”
I had no idea what he meant by that. I assumed he meant he was going to shoot at me some more. I remained perfectly still and listened for him to move, but he didn’t make a sound. Then, suddenly, something very strange happened. Cold water began to rise around me, as if the entire bridge was sinking beneath the surface, pushing me under.
In just a few seconds, I was gasping at the last bit of air above my head and then I was underwater.
I tried to hold on, but I couldn’t do it. The current swirled around me, dislodging my hands and feet from the beams and dragging me down into the murky water. I felt myself speeding downstream, out of control, unable to direct myself.
Then, all at once, I was spit back out. I landed on hard pavement again. I struggled to rise to my feet, gasping for breath, trying to understand what just happened.
I was on the bridge.
How was that even possible?
“See?” he said. I turned and saw him strolling toward me. “I’m not concerned about getting the book wet.”
Clearly. I stood there staring back at him, dripping wet and completely out of options. I could see his Impala parked behind him, the headlights glaring. My bike was lying under its front left tire, crushed.
Where the hell was everybody? I hadn’t seen a soul since I left home.
Shouldn’t someone have heard the gunshots and called the police?
“How did you do that?” I asked him.
He smiled at me. “We all have our talents,” he told me. “Some of us are more talented than others.” He turned and looked out over the river.
I followed his gaze.
What I saw out there in the darkness was my nightmare coming to life before my eyes.