Wellspring (Paskagankee, Book 3)
Page 24
“He said the system is being installed in the morning, and Dan Melton’s coming back tomorrow afternoon to fill the hole back in.”
“Perfect,” Mike said as he rounded the corner of the building.
The stationary earthmover loomed in the distance, looking in the diffuse moonlight like a grazing dinosaur. Sharon fell into step next to Mike. “Are you absolutely certain you’re comfortable with this? I’m sure you’re aware we’re tampering with evidence.”
“I know what we’re doing,” he said. “And it’s exactly why I wanted to do this alone. I don’t want to put your career at risk.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I know you. You’re as straight an arrow as they come. Will you be able to live with yourself afterward?”
Mike stopped next to the pit and turned, lasering his hypnotic eyes on her. Even now, more than two years after meeting him, the intensity of his stare sometimes took her breath away. “Everyone connected with this thing is dead. All three of them died in a violent manner. And those are only the ones we’re aware of; who knows how many other people tied to this thing died horrible deaths over the last hundred and fifty years? This case is going to end in a whitewash by the FBI – there’s no other conceivable way it can end, given the circumstances – and any story they come up with to explain the actions of their agents won’t include this thing.” He nodded at the heavy bag still hanging off his shoulder.
“But still, it doesn’t belong to us. What about returning it to its rightful owners?”
“Why? So someone else can misuse it and cause another two centuries of violence and terror? The ‘rightful owners’ died at least a hundred years ago, and to their heirs, what’s inside this bag is nothing more than a myth, a fanciful story passed down from generation to generation. Returning it to its’ ‘rightful owners’ now will accomplish nothing positive, and could potentially cause untold misery.”
He turned back toward the hole, and Sharon realized she had been holding her breath. “So,” he said. “To answer your question, yes, I’m completely at ease with this.”
He walked to the earthmover and picked up the aluminum ladder lying next to it in the damp grass. Then he walked back to the hole and slid the ladder down the side until it rattled to a stop. He tossed the bag to the bottom, where it landed with a muffled whump. Then he climbed down the ladder and waited for Sharon to follow.
Stepping onto the pit’s dirt floor, Sharon felt trapped, claustrophobic, like the dirt walls were closing in. She hadn’t noticed the sensation while searching the underground room in the daylight. Tonight, in the darkness, it reminded her of a casket. A vague whiff of corruption hung in the unmoving air, as if the secret death-chamber was hanging doggedly on to the remains of the two still-unidentified human beings who had perished inside it so long ago.
“Let’s get this over with,” Mike muttered uneasily, and she knew he felt the disturbing sensation, too. He knelt down and unzipped the bag. Reached in. Lifted the heavy golden disk clear of the bag with both hands and set it down on the hard-packed dirt. Stood and moved next to Sharon.
She had begun digging a hole roughly eighteen inches in diameter in the middle of the pit, but now she stopped and gazed at the circular object. It glittered dully in the reflected beam of the flashlight. Now knowing the part the strange disk had played in the tragic story spanning two centuries and two continents, she had fully expected to feel some kind of power emanating from it, some evil vibe, but it was even worse than she had imagined. A suffocating dread began to fill her, a sense of pervading evil unlike any she had ever known.
“Do you feel that?” she said, looking up at Mike, trying to control the shaking in her voice and mostly succeeding.
“What?”
“It feels…I don’t know…like we’re not alone, like there’s a presence down here with us or something.”
“A presence,” he said, an edge to his voice, and Sharon knew by his tone and lack of direct denial that he felt it, too. She looked back down at the disk. It lay on the dirt, unmoving and apparently benign.
Mike took the shovel from her hands. He bent over his work and within minutes had excavated a hole deep enough to accept the disk. Then he dropped the shovel and for the final time, picked up the golden disk, setting it carefully it into the bottom of the hole.
Without speaking, he stood and began filling the dirt back in. He worked quickly, and soon the hole was gone. He stamped down on the newly replaced earth until it was packed hard, once again resembling the rest of the secret room.
“Shine your light on it,” he said. Sharon directed the beam at the ground, and in the weak, uneven light there was no detectable difference between what had been dug up five minutes ago and what had been in place for over a century and a half.
“Guess it’ll have to do,” he said, and zipped the now-empty equipment bag closed.
He picked up the shovel and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” but took one look at Sharon and stopped in his tracks. “What is it?” he said.
“Something’s wrong about this,” she whispered. “I can feel it. And don’t try to tell me you don’t feel it, too, because I know you do.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s done now, and there’s no going back.”
“Of course we can go back! We can dig the damned thing up and put it back in the evidence room.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Mike hissed. “The fact that this thing gives off some kind of weird, dangerous vibe makes it even more critical we get it out of circulation. Maybe there’s no right thing to do with it, but I’m certain this is the least wrong thing. Sometimes that’s the best you can hope for.” He grabbed the ladder with both hands and climbed quickly out of the pit.
Sharon stood a moment longer. The darkness at the bottom of the deadly hole, a darkness of both light and of spirit, was nearly overwhelming. She realized Mike was right. They were doing the only thing they could.
She realized also that she needed to get the hell out of there and back to the land of the living. She climbed out as quickly as she could and then removed the ladder, placing it once again next to the Caterpillar. Then she followed Mike to the car, anxious to take a shower and get a little sleep. The press conference would begin in just a few hours.
Mike reached back and took her hand as they walked. “Thanks again,” he said. He didn’t specify what he was thanking her for. He didn’t have to.
“Always,” she said, and squeezed his hand. In the distance, high above the evergreens, the first shafts of daylight began brightening the sky over Paskagankee, Maine.
About the author
Allan Leverone is a 2012 Derringer Award winner and 2011 Pushcart Prize nominee. He is the author of six novels, including the Amazon bestselling thriller, THE LONELY MILE, and the previous two Paskagankee novels, PASKAGANKEE and REVENANT. He lives in Londonderry, New Hampshire with his wife Sue and his family. Connect with Allan on Facebook, Twitter @AllanLeverone, and at http://www.allanleverone.com.
Horror novels by Allan Leverone
Paskagankee
Revenant
Thriller novels by Allan Leverone
The Lonely Mile
Final Vector
Parallax View
Novellas by Allan Leverone
Darkness Falls
Heartless
The Becoming
Collections by Allan Leverone
Postcards from the Apocalypse
Uncle Brick and the Four Novelettes
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