Smoke was seeping from the roof of the barn. Seth darted across the driveway, then skidded to a halt. He clutched at his hair, then turned back to the car. Gabe opened the front door. “I’ve gotta call the cops,” Seth said. “The fire department. Someone…I don’t know. Will you guys wait here?”
Elyse calmly leaned forward across Gabe’s seat. “Of course we will,” she said.
She yanked the gear into reverse before Gabe could close his door, then spun out onto the Hoppers’ lawn, moving a safe distance from the smoldering building. Once parked, they got out and made their way to the driveway ahead. Seth had already disappeared inside to call the authorities.
They stared up at the barn’s roof. Ribbons of gray curled into the sky, dancing gracefully between pinpoints of starlight. Elyse reached for Gabe’s hand. He imagined her thin fingers clutching a pen, dipping the nib into a well of ink, scratching across a white page, creating the monster that Gabe was certain had caused all this trouble. Was his grandmother to blame? And could she do something about it now? Backlit by the porch light, she looked otherworldly. When Gabe blinked, he could almost picture her as a girl, standing in this very spot, listening to the cries of Mason’s aunt Verna weeping for the slaughtered rooster.
“You know what this is,” he whispered. His grandmother turned to him. The evidence that Gabe was right was written on her face. “You know who’s responsible. Why else would you have told me that story?”
Trembling, she glanced at the cottage, pretending not to hear.
“Grandmother Elyse.” Gabe tugged at her coat, trying to capture her attention. “Talk to him. Ask him what we can do to make him stop.”
She shook her head, refusing to listen. “That noise,” she whispered. “Do you hear?”
The smoke was growing thicker at the roof; the barn was fighting against a beast that was trying to devour it. From inside, there came a kind of cry, as if moisture within the wood was heating, turning to steam, escaping from tiny sealed pockets in the same way it would spew from the mouth of a boiling kettle. It was a harsh wail, and it pierced the night.
Elyse’s face went slack. “Oh my goodness.” She stumbled toward the barn, her limbs hanging limp. “That’s the baby crying,” she said. Then she screamed. “Miri’s in there!”
THE PREVIOUS SUMMER, at the end of a July day, when his house went up in flames, Gabe watched carefully from the sidewalk across the street.
It had happened fast, but he remembered every detail as if it were a movie he could pause and rewind and replay. First came the smoke, light gray and wispy, like the kind that you see going up a chimney from a controlled blaze in the fireplace. Then, at the front windows, the first licks of flame appeared. Soon, the orange bursts turned hefty and thick, like lava, but hovering, pulsating in the air over his front yard. The firefighters scrambled around like swarming insects, pulling the hoses from the trucks, spraying massive streams of water onto and into the rapidly faltering structure. Pieces of siding appeared to melt and fall away from the house’s frame, and other crisp, unrecognizable objects simply floated away on the hot breeze.
The strangest part was the birds chirping in trees nearby, like they would on any other summer afternoon. Listening to them sing almost made the fire seem like a hallucination, a dream, an illusion. It was the birdsong that made Gabe remember the wish that he’d made—the one about making the Puppet Boy nickname disappear. And after the fire had been extinguished and Gabe sat on the Parkers’ front stoop, watching his parents rushing around, making calls, talking with neighbors, it was the birdsong that echoed in his head.
Now the disturbing cries of the birds in Gabe’s memory became the wail of a child. Standing beside his grandmother in the Hoppers’ yard, Gabe made no wishes. Dashing forward, he was determined to tilt back the scale he’d upset months ago. His grandmother called out to him as he ran toward the barn, but his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums drowned her out.
The small wood door appeared before him. He grabbed the warm handle and pulled. Stepping inside, he remembered searching for Milton with his father and Sharon in this spot a month before. The door slammed shut behind him, and Gabe shouted in surprise. He turned around and kicked at it, then tried the inner latch but it wouldn’t budge. For a moment, he thought he heard the hushed laughter that had been haunting him for weeks. “Mason!” he shouted. Gabe realized that the sound wasn’t laughter. A hissing was coming from the old tractor that sat in the center of the barn. The engine hood was engulfed in smoke and flame. Some sort of fluid was dripping to the floor from under the tractor’s carriage, carrying with it small drops of fire. A pool was forming, spreading outward. A few feet away, several large bales of hay were stacked against the wall.
Miri’s screaming echoed around the vast room. Gabe listened, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. He glanced up. The hayloft. Looking around, he noticed the wood skeleton of the only remaining ladder clinging haphazardly to the barn’s support columns. The last time he’d been here, he’d broken the rungs at the bottom. Sharp remnants stuck out from their former pegs. The rungs near the top looked weathered.
Gabe leaped toward the lowest solid rung, several feet above his head. His fingers barely grazed it; the dowel turned slightly at his touch. He needed to get closer to grab hold.
“I’m coming, Miri,” he called, hoping his voice might calm her. Glancing over his shoulder at the tractor, through the opaque air, Gabe saw that the pool of liquid fire had crept outward a couple more inches. A moment later, Miri began coughing. Gabe needed to get up there. Now.
Several plastic crates sat next to a darkened doorway on the opposite side of the room. Gabe rushed over and grabbed them. He peeked briefly through the door. Seeing only empty cages, he made a mental note that the coop was just another dead end.
He returned to the ruined ladder and placed the two plastic crates below it. Stepping up, he easily grasped the lowest rung. Gabe pulled himself upward using what felt like his last bit of strength, silently begging the wood to hold. He pressed his sneakers atop the remains of the splintered rungs to lessen the burden on the ones above. He grasped the next rung and the next. At the top, he reached for the platform of the hayloft and pushed off from the ladder, launching himself upward. But the lower rung twisted. His foot slipped and his chest crashed against the ledge. He howled through the pain, his palms slipping frantically over the boards, searching for something to clutch. He shoved his index finger into a large knothole, then quickly located a crack between two other planks and found a grip.
Trying to ease his breathing, he shimmied forward until he felt solid flooring beneath his body, then he collapsed. Dead weight. He felt a darkness pressing at the edges of his vision. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and shouted out an unintelligible grunt, forcing himself to stay awake, aware.
Though the firelight from below was growing steadily brighter through the cracks in the flooring, it was still difficult to make out details of the space. The air was murky, the heat like an oven, but what Gabe could see gave him chills.
He knelt on raw wood planks, several feet from a rug blackened with mildew. On top of the rug, near the sloping of ceiling, a dresser sat, its water-damaged sides bulging out. Beside the dresser stood a twin-sized brass bed frame. A thin mattress lay on top, its springs poking through the worn fabric like bones through skin. This was Mason’s old bedroom.
To Gabe’s relief and horror, Miri sat in the center of this old bed, reaching out for him, her mouth open in a silent scream, her face grimy with soot and damp with tears.
From downstairs, Gabe heard a pounding. Someone outside was trying to get through the stuck door. “Gabe!” It was Seth. “Let me in!”
Gabe didn’t respond. He needed to save his breath. He crawled across the filthy rug to his sister, then, rising to his feet, he snatched her up and hugged her tightly. She whined into his ear, but it was a comforting sound. They were together at least. When her small fingernails scratched his neck, his o
wn eyes stung with tears.
In the distance, sirens shrieked. The fire trucks were coming, but they still sounded so far away. Gabe stumbled back toward the ladder. Looking over the edge, a wave of dizziness overtook him and he sunk to his knees. If he tried to carry his sister down, they’d end up crumpled atop the plastic crates below. Miri choked again, her whole body heaving. Gabe coughed too—a long, painful rumble. The air was getting hotter by the second. Sweat poured from his skin, his clothes clung like plastic wrap. Gabe glanced around, searching for another solution. The one that he kept coming back to was the one where they ended up on the floor below, their bones shattered.
Light-headed, almost giddy, Gabe imagined himself as Meatpie. The Robber Prince of Kingdom Chicken Guts would no sooner leap to his demise than he would lie down and die. No. A Robber Prince would never surrender.
Struggling up, Gabe carried Miri to the other edge of the loft, where the smoke was now coming like a solid wall. He peered over the rail. Stacks of hay bales stood about fifteen feet down. The pool of ooze from the tractor had reached the dry grass at the opposite end of the long row. Flames climbed the bales, munching greedily at the straw. Several untouched feet of tightly rolled hay still leaned against the wall of the barn; in a moment the entire pile would be engulfed.
Gabe held Miri close to his chest. Feeling that this was a dream, a memory, a fantasy, he swung himself over the loft railing and, without thinking, stepped into the void.
THERE WAS AN EXPLOSION OF SPARKS. They swooped and swirled all around.
Gabe lay on his back, his sister perched precariously upon his chest. The sharp ends of the hay poked through his coat, and a wave of heat slapped at Gabe’s cheek. When he turned his head, which throbbed with a warmth all its own, he saw that the flames had crept along the tops of the bales, inches away from where he and Miri lay.
The baby was screaming, her tears and snot spraying his face. Gabe wobbled on the bale, searching for a slope that would indicate which direction was down, twisting his body around and holding Miri to his chest. Gabe slid down the bale, feetfirst.
When his sneakers touched the dirt floor of the barn, he crouched, sweeping one arm in front of him, trying to sense where he was. The smoke irritated his eyes and noises assaulted his ears. Knocking sounds, hissing sounds, sounds of heavy things collapsing. And the sirens screamed from just outside.
But Miri wasn’t making any sounds.
Gabe jostled her. When she didn’t respond, not even a kick, he brought his head down low. Her warm breath tickled his cheek and he sighed in relief. “They’re almost here,” he said, as if Miri could hear or even understand his words. “Don’t worry.” This time, he wasn’t speaking to her.
Gabe stood tall, and the room spun. Smoke was everywhere. He groped and stumbled his way to the door. He kicked it again, but, as before, the door did not budge.
“Seth!” he cried out, the air scraping at his throat. Seth must have run to meet the firefighters. There was no way he’d just leave them in there. Was there? “Grandmother Elyse!” he tried instead.
No voice answered from the other side.
The sirens wailed louder than ever. Gabe thought he could see flashes of light seeping through the gaps in the wood, but it might have been the flames against the far wall, reaching almost to the roof.
Something shifted behind him. Gabe spun. He’d thought that a chunk of the roof had fallen close by, then, through a thick veil of smoke, he saw a dark silhouette step toward him. Someone else was in here with him. “Seth?” He clutched Miri closer, bouncing her up on his hip. She moaned, exhausted. “Is that you?”
He thought he heard a reply.
No.
It could have been the fire, crackling and hushed, or maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought.
The silhouette became solid. The person was carrying something. Large, round, flat. It hung low. Heavy. Arms raised the object, as if to toss it at Gabe, to crush him.
“Stop,” Gabe murmured. “Please, Mason. Leave us alone.”
I’m not Mason.
This time the voice was unmistakable. And even in the heat, he still felt goose bumps.
Behind this person who was not-Mason, a larger shadow rose, haloed by the wicked fire. This new silhouette stood like a tall stack of rocks. Gabe could feel Mason’s presence now. Big and bad and angry as heck. The larger shadow grabbed the smaller shadow, and the two darknesses melted into one.
The heavy object that the first silhouette had carried landed at Gabe’s feet. He rocked backward, away from the object, and fell against the barn door, rattling the outside latch. Gabe nudged the object with his toe. It was a large stone.
The Hunter roared. Or maybe it was the sound of fire escaping into the night sky. The massive shadow seemed to expand. Or maybe it was simply smoke, blackening the air.
Gabe placed Miri on the floor next to the door. With eyes bloodshot and open wide, she shoved her thumb securely in her mouth. The rock was bulky, but he managed to lift it. Turning away from the fire, away from the shadows and smoke, he raised it over his head, then, stepping forward, he swung his arms and released the load, launching it as if from a catapult. The stone smashed into the wood frame. The door burst open, and a furious wind rushed in.
Ducking low, Gabe grabbed Miri. The fire inside the barn howled, licking at the air just over his head. With one arm, he cradled his sister to his underbelly, then, like a wounded animal, he crawled to the surprisingly cold ground just outside the door.
WHEN THEY’D MADE IT PARTWAY across the field, Miri began crying again. Her wailing was a relief. It meant they were both alive. Firefighters ran toward them in slow motion, gas masks and oxygen tanks giving them the appearance of interstellar explorers.
Gabe didn’t remember much of what happened next.
Later, he sat in the back of an ambulance that was parked safely away from the barn and the blaze and the trucks and the water gushing from hoses. Paramedics took his and Miri’s blood pressure and temperature, slipped oxygen masks over their noses and mouths, asked questions, kept them both conscious. Gabe was grateful for their help and attention, but he knew that as soon as this was over, as soon as these people went away, Mason would be waiting. Every time he glanced at his sister’s little form lying on the cot beside him, an electrical sensation surged through him. It was a feeling beyond anger—rage, maybe? Gabe could not imagine how someone would do such a thing to a child, even if that someone was no longer living.
Seth was with his mother off by the light of the porch. Elyse stood closer, her tearstained face illuminated by the fluorescent radiance spilling from the ambulance, hovering as close as she could while giving the rescue workers the space they needed to do their job.
Another pair of headlights appeared down the driveway. Sitting up, Gabe recognized the vehicle as it came closer. Skidding to a stop, it tore up some of the Hoppers’ lawn. The doors burst open, and Glen and Dolores dashed from the car, making a beeline to their children.
Gabe was surprised by the ferocity with which his parents hugged him. They scolded him for running into the burning building. A moment later they called him a hero for saving his sister. He was confused and dizzy and his whole body ached, but he’d never felt so close to any of them.
Minutes later, Gabe listened as the adults spoke at each other, loudly. His parents demanded to know what had happened. How had Miri gotten into the hayloft? Who had allowed Gabe into the barn? What had happened in there? Elyse tried to explain, but Gabe was the only one who knew the whole truth. And the one person he was desperate to tell wasn’t close enough to listen.
He glanced toward the cottage. Seth stared back. The boys understood. If they were going to stop the Hunter from returning, the clock was ticking.
“I’m fine,” Gabe insisted, pulling off the oxygen mask. “Mom, please. I wanna talk to Seth. Just for a second. I’ll be back. Promise.” Dolores gave him a look that was both frustrated and compassionate. Glen’s attention was with
Miri, so Dolores looked to the EMT worker, as if for permission to let Gabe go. The worker hung the oxygen tubing on the top of the tall green tank and nodded slightly.
Dolores rolled her eyes, but kissed Gabe’s forehead. “Okay,” she said. “But if you feel anything, any aches or pains, I want you right back here.” He barely heard this last part. He was already halfway to the Hoppers’ porch.
Seth was sitting on the bottom step, staring at the firefighters who continued to battle the blaze. When he noticed Gabe approach, he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around him. Neither boy said anything; they just stayed like that for a while. Eventually, they sat down, stewing in awkward silence. The fire had consumed most of the barn’s far wall, the one that had been lined with hay bales. The building’s scorched framework rose in blackened shadow against the light, resembling used-up matchsticks.
Finally, Gabe worked up the nerve to tell Seth what had happened in there, or what he remembered at least. Seth listened and when Gabe finished, he released a slow, trembling sigh. “I don’t think we’re done yet,” he said. Gabe nodded. “It’s Halloween, the night when the dead come back, when the curtain that separates the worlds of the living and the dead is the weakest. And if that’s true, tonight must be the night when Mason is the strongest. He still has a few hours left…to hunt.”
“I really just want to go home,” said Gabe. Every muscle ached. His throat felt like it had been scraped out with an electric mixer. His skin felt crispy.
“But what if he won’t stop?” Seth asked. “What if, when we try to get to sleep later tonight, he does something else? Something worse?”
“Worse than burning me and my baby sister alive?”
“Yes,” Seth answered. His certainty was chilling. Gabe covered his face, but Seth rested his hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got to find Mason’s bones,” he insisted. “Destroy them. Or bury them. And we have to do it tonight.”
The Haunting of Gabriel Ashe Page 18