Blood Ghost (The Hunting Tree Book 2)

by Ike Hamill

  “Bye,” Amanda said, raising her hand.

  “Bye,” Don said.

  # # # #

  The service was fast and crowded. Don saw a ton of people from high school and many people that he didn’t know. Kyle’s co-workers and even some patients from the rehab clinic came to visit. They introduced themselves and shook Don’s numb hand. When Kyle had first taken the job, Don had thought he meant drug rehab. It wasn’t that kind of clinic. It was the kind of clinic where a grandmother might go to relearn to walk after a fall. Those were the people who introduced themselves—these strangers who also treasured Kyle.

  Back at the Umber house, Don sat in a kitchen chair. It was the same kitchen chair he’d sat in when the female cop had questioned him about the night before Kyle’s death. Barney sat between his legs. All day, the only time Barney had left Don’s side was a quick trip to visit Amanda during the wake. At the Umber’s he wouldn’t even let Don go to the bathroom alone.

  Don held a cup of coffee. It was too hot to drink. He squeezed the mug between his hands, hoping the blistering ceramic might help evaporate the numbness.

  Kyle’s face smiled from a dozen framed pictures standing on the table.

  Marianne, Kyle’s mom, moved around the kitchen stacking and re-stacking plates and dishes. She wore a tiny black hat that swayed when she turned. It was held on by one bobby pin. Seth appeared and hugged his wife briefly from behind. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Don.

  Don straightened. He tried to sip his coffee. It was still too hot.

  Seth put his hand on Don’s shoulder. Don looked off towards the staircase, hoping someone would come up who could rescue him from whatever Kyle’s dad was about to say.

  “Don,” Seth said, “I just want you to know how much your friendship meant to Kyle.”

  Don nodded. One hand dropped from his coffee and found Barney’s head, where he scratched behind the dog’s ear.

  “He really looked up to you,” Seth said.

  That sour fog formed behind Don’s sinuses and pushed forward. Nothing would stop these tears, so he just let them roll down his cheeks.

  # # # #

  Standing on the front porch of Kyle’s house with his tie loosened and his top button undone, Don knelt and tried to close the front door. Every time he tried to shut it, Barney poked his nose through the gap and tried to wriggle through. The screen door hung to the side. The spring was disconnected.

  “Barney, stay here. You stay here with your family,” Don said. The dog disobeyed.

  Don looked over his shoulder. His parents and sister were waiting in the car. He thought about waving them on, but didn’t want to walk through the woods with his good shoes. Don opened the door enough to push Barney back and then he saw Marianne. She was standing just inside the door, looking at her dead son’s dog.

  “Take him,” she said.

  “I couldn’t, Ms. Umber. He’s your dog.”

  “He’s not my dog, he’s Kyle’s. He can go too.”

  “I’m sure you don’t mean…” Don began. He didn’t get a chance to finish. Marianne tugged at the door, ripping the handle from Don’s grip. Barney saw his chance and shot through the gap. He pressed himself against Don’s leg and stood on the porch.

  “Take him,” she said. She shut the door.

  Don hung his head. Barney looked up at him and then stuck to his side as Don walked to the car. When Don opened the car door, Barney jumped in and sat next to Chelsea. She put her arm around Barney.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dry

  MARE PACED AROUND THE woods, disappointed and angry. Her boyfriend was gone. Even the dog was gone. She’d already forgotten that the boyfriend was gone because of her, because she couldn’t control herself and had stolen too much of his intoxicated blood. She didn’t remember the deed, but she remembered the satisfaction.

  For that one beautiful moment, life had seemed worth living. With a new name and a boyfriend, the night sang to her. Now she only had the name, and she hated the name the more she considered it. Mare—it sounded like something you’d find on the bottom of your foot if you didn’t tread carefully. Mare—it sounded like the name of a woman who would drug you and then offer your succulent young body to the dark gods in a midnight ceremony.

  Mare wandered the hot night and collected blood from the forest rodents. She pouted and wept for her lost love. She would gladly settle for the dog, but even he was gone—somewhere close, but gone.

  Maybe there was another young man. She smelled something new on the wind. And hadn’t she seen two young men out near the rock? She decided to wander and see if she could find the source of the new smell that had come to her little patch of woods.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Investigation

  DON STRETCHED OUT ON the couch and looked at the flickering television. He had the volume so low that he could barely hear it. He wasn’t paying attention anyway. He was just drifting in and out of sleep. Barney lay on the floor next to him. In the kitchen, his parents were talking. He wondered at what age people lost the ability to know how loud they were talking.

  From his mom, he picked up the following words—“… so sad… sweet boy… anemia… loss.”

  Don connected the dots and stormed into the kitchen.

  “We’re not putting him down,” he said. “He’ll get better.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Wes asked.

  “I know Ms. Umber thinks we should put Barney down, and I heard you talking about his anemia. He’s going to get better. The vet said that he was already starting to look better, so I don’t care what she says, I’m not going to put him down.”

  “Nobody wants to euthanize Barney, Don,” his father said.

  “Actually…” Gwen began.

  “No, mom. You don’t even know,” Don said, growing more frustrated. “You deal with death all the time, so it’s the only thing you understand. He doesn’t have to die.”

  “I was just going to say that I do think the Umbers discussed whether to put Barney to sleep, even before Kyle passed, but I can’t say I agree. I think you’re right—he is getting better. At least he’s stabilized.”

  “Then why were you saying it was so sad about his anemia?” Don said, still accusatory.

  “I was saying it was sad about Kyle’s anemia. I didn’t know that Barney was anemic. I’m not a vet.”

  “Oh,” Don said. He stormed back into the living room and threw himself back down on the couch.

  “We’re on your side, Don,” his father called after him.

  “Give him time,” his mother said, again oblivious to who could hear her.

  Don put a pillow over his head and fell asleep.

  When he awoke, the light from the TV was the only light in the room. In some movie, people were running through a field of tall grass. On the floor, Barney kicked his legs, perhaps dreaming of running through the same field. Don woke him up with a hand to his shoulder and beckoned him towards the door. He took Barney out the front door and the two walked around the house, down the gentle slope.

  Barney found it easier to get to the basement by walking around the house instead of trying to tackle the staircase. Going up stairs was okay for the old dog, but going down took too much balance. Don stopped to mark a bush when Barney was through with it.

  The dog stopped and looked towards the woods. In the moonlight, Don saw the fur rise on the back of Barney’s neck. He heard a low growl from the back of Barney’s throat. Goosebumps rose on Don’s arms and he crouched next to Barney, trying to see into the woods.

  The moon lit up the yard, but the trees carved black shadows.

  “What is it?” Don whispered.

  Barney clipped his growl.

  They both listened. It sounded like someone was singing and walking through the woods. The tune was simple—the same note several times, then up a few steps and back down. It sounded almost like a sing-along you would do for kids. It was something so simple you could teach it
in ten seconds and then all join in. Don wanted to add his own voice to the person in the woods. He felt his mouth trying to form the foreign syllables.

  Barney growled again. Was he trying to sing?

  Above man and dog, mounted in the window, the air conditioner’s thermostat clicked and the compressor began to pump. The sound startled Don from his stupor.

  “Come on, Barnyard,” Don said. He backed towards the house until his hand found the sliding door.

  Don slapped his leg to get the dog’s attention. “Barney!” he said.

  Finally the dog stopped growling and turned to join Don.

  From the woods, Don heard the singing stop with a loud hiss. He froze as he heard footsteps running away through the bed of leaves. Don hustled Barney inside and then closed and locked the door.

  # # # #

  “What do you need, Don?” Marianne asked.

  “Who is it, honey?” Don heard from deeper inside the house.

  Don was standing on the brick porch looking through the screen door at Kyle’s mom and her hard expression. In his right hand Don held the broken battery cover for the cordless phone. He’d seen it in the bushes and he’d stooped to pick it up before he rang the bell.

  Marianne didn’t answer her husband’s question, she just waited for him to approach. Don saw Seth’s hand circle his wife’s waist. She clamped her elbow against his hand as she crossed her arms.

  “Hey, Don,” Seth said. To his wife, he said, “Honey, I think your water is boiling.”

  As soon as his wife climbed the stairs behind him, Seth came out onto the porch with Don. The screen door swung open freely and banged to a stop against the railing. The paramedics had disconnected it when they’d removed Kyle’s body, and nobody had bothered to hook the spring back on.

  “How’ve you been?” Seth asked.

  “I’m okay. Thanks, Mr. Umber. Are you okay?”

  “Far from it,” Seth said with a sad nod. “Have a seat.”

  He motioned at the brick steps and then he sat down and patted the brick next to him. Don sat down next to Kyle’s dad. He handed the the battery cover to Seth, who turned it over in his hands, looking at the outside, then inside, then outside again.

  “I came by to ask about pictures and videos and stuff,” Don said.

  Seth looked up.

  Don continued. “From Kyle’s phone? I know he had a lot of pictures and videos of us from the last few days and I was wondering if you could send them to me?” Don asked.

  “Sure,” Seth said. “Actually, maybe it would be easier if you got all the stuff off of there and sent it to me. Could you do that?”

  “Yeah, no problem,” Don said. This was the outcome he’d secretly hoped for.

  “How’s Barn?” Seth asked.

  “He’s okay. Vet says he’s improving. Whatever Kyle was doing was finally starting to work.”

  “That’s good to hear. I hope you don’t mind keeping him. Marianne was never a huge fan, as you know, and she and Kyle had a lot of fights about him these past few months. I think she thought of him as … unresolved, you know?”

  Don nodded, but he wasn’t sure what Seth meant.

  “I’d be happy if he could stay with you. I know it’s hard to see him old and frail like that, after all the time you guys spent together running around and playing.”

  Don looked at Mr. Umber and saw the tears running down his nose and dropping onto the bricks.

  “The three of you were inseparable. I remember finding you all in the walk-in closet upstairs once. You swam all day and then came home and ate watermelon and cake until you were about to burst and then you somehow picked that spot to take a nap. Barney was the only one who woke up when I opened the door.” He smiled, but his breath hitched with a tiny sob.

  “I’d be glad to keep him, Mr. Umber.” Don said.

  “I’ll go get Kyle’s phone,” Seth said. He pushed to his feet and Don heard the screen door creak shut behind him.

  It was another blistering hot day. Don had left Barney lying on the cool floor in the basement back at home. He hoped the dog wasn’t roaming around looking for him again.

  When Seth returned he showed no trace of his tears. He came out and sat back down on the porch next to Don.

  “Thank you, Don.”

  “Sure thing,” Don said.

  Seth handed him the phone and the two sat for a few minutes longer before Don excused himself.

  Back at home, Don bolted down the stairs to his room. Barney had found his way onto the bed and was sitting on top of the pillow. Don hooked Kyle’s phone up to the computer so he could pull all the images and videos. A video taken Friday night was over eight minutes.

  Don played the video full-screen and leaned back to watch. After a second, he grabbed his headphones so he could hear the quiet audio clearly.

  The picture was just black and then a face swung into view—it was Kyle. The picture bounced with his footsteps.

  “This is Kyle Umber, reporting from the woods behind my house. I just talked to my friend Don, he’s going to meet me out here in a minute. I’m investigating the strange behavior of the animals,” video-Kyle said. He was breathing heavily and tromping through the woods with his camera.

  “Shit!” Kyle said on the video. His face swung out of the picture. When it came back into view, he was smiling. “I tripped.”

  “I’m just going to go a little farther down this trail and then there’s a rock where Don’s going to meet me,” Kyle said. He was whispering now. “This should do it. Do you see that rock?”

  The picture changed. Kyle’s face was gone and it took a second before the image resolved itself. Eventually, Don could make out the rock and the trees around it.

  “Oh, wait,” Kyle said. The picture lit up—Kyle must have turned on a light. With a crunch of leaves, the video swung to the right and focused on a tree. It could have just been a shadow of a tree, but to Don it looked like something had ducked behind the tree when the light pointed in that direction.

  Kyle must have thought so as well. “I think I saw something, but I’m not sure. I’m going to check it out.”

  The camera bobbed as Kyle walked. He took several slow steps and then stopped again to swing the camera around. He looked behind himself, and then back at the rock. Another crunch of leaves—this one loud enough to be at Kyle’s side—and the camera swept around again.

  “Holy shit,” Kyle said. His camera pointed down to the ground. He bent down until a squirrel took up the entire picture. It was lying on top of the leaves. This squirrel looked like the one they’d found on the deck—it looked shriveled and hollow.

  “This wasn’t here a second ago, I swear,” Kyle said on the video. “It just landed here at my feet.”

  Don paused the video and backed it up. He watched it several times before he was sure. The squirrel lying at Kyle’s feet was still breathing. You could see its little chest moving up and down and the droplets of moisture around its mouth were pulsing in and out.

  Kyle swung the camera up again and swept it all around him. He was clearly nervous, but Don could barely hear it in his excited voice.

  “That was crazy,” Kyle said. “Whoa!”

  The camera pitched again. Don was looking at the trunk of a tree and then up at the branches. The image jostled and panned and Don was looking at the rock.

  “There’s something here, but I can’t get a good look at it. It’s too fast.”

  The camera held still for several moments and Don turned up the volume. All he could hear was Kyle’s fast breathing. But just below the breathing, in between the inhale and exhale, there was something else. Don backed up and listened again. Nothing moved on the video, but in his headphones there was something.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Then there was something else.

  He backed it up again.

  Was he just imagining, or was there a distant singing? Then he heard another noi
se—something that wasn’t there before—it was a low rumbling. Don looked to his right. On the bed, Barney was sitting up and had his lips set in that specific, German Shepherd way that they did when they growled. Don popped off the headphones. Barney’s growl grew louder.

  “Are you growling at the video?” Don asked. He paused the playback and Barney worked his tongue and stopped growling. “Cut it out. I’m trying to hear this.”

  Barney set his head down on the pillow.

  Don put the headphones back on and cranked up the volume. There it was. A little farther through the video it was clear. Someone was singing and walking in the woods. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Don felt like he was trying to remember the details of a dream. Didn’t he just hear someone singing in the woods like this? The memory eluded him.

  Footsteps. The camera wasn’t moving at all and yet Don heard light footsteps. The camera started to sag and instead of looking at the rock, the view shifted down very slowly until Don was looking at the forest floor.

  When Kyle laughed, Don tore the headphones from his head. He had the volume all the way up, so the laugh ripped through his ears and reverberated in his skull. Don lowered the volume and backed up the video again. That laugh was eerie. It sounded like the laugh of a distracted child, but it was hollow and lifeless somehow. Don had heard the laugh before—he’d heard it from a distance that night in the woods. On the recording, he heard the noise just after the laugh. It was a very quiet moan accompanied by a sucking, slurping sound. On screen, the view from the camera shook gently. Don felt a chill race down his back.

  The slurping continued for almost a minute and then Kyle laughed again.

  Don put a hand to his ear when he heard something snap off in the woods. Kyle’s moaning stopped the camera swung back up to the rock. A shadow moved and for just a second, Don thought he saw something moving on the right side of the picture. It was like a long, spindly, almost transparent arm. It looked like something you’d find living at the bottom of the ocean—something that would explode if you removed it from its pressurized environment.