Blood Ghost (The Hunting Tree Book 2)

by Ike Hamill

  “Over here!” Melanie said when she recognized the uniform.

  “Hold it!” Presby yelled. She pointed her gun and flashlight at the woman.

  “Don’t shoot! We need help,” Melanie said. She pointed down.

  Officer Presby side-stepped a small circle around Melanie and approached from her side until she saw the man on the ground. She tucked her flashlight under her arm, still held the gun in front of her, and used the radio clipped to her shoulder. She requested immediate backup and an ambulance. Officer Presby assessed the woman, boy, and injured man and holstered her gun.

  “We’re going to have to get him to the road,” she said. She handed her bright, heavy flashlight to David and sent him out in front so she and Melanie could get under Morris’s shoulders.

  “What about Roland and Merritt?” David asked.

  “Where are they?” Presby asked.

  “Roland went that way,” David pointed. “Merritt is over there too.”

  Morris moaned as they walked him forward.

  “We’ll come back when this man is safe,” Presby said.

  “We have to get back to Susan,” Melanie said. “I can help you as far as the road, but then I have to get to my car where my daughter is.”

  “Ma’am, we can only deal with one emergency at a time,” Presby said.

  # # # #

  He stopped and panted, orienting himself again with the lights from the house. He’d been running in circles and should have stumbled on Merritt by now. Roland held his breath and listened. The loudest thing he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat. Somewhere in the woods was his brother and a woman who moved like a bobcat and wielded a knife. Apparently, he was helpless to find either. All he could picture was his brother hacked into a hot mess of meat and steaming blood.

  Behind him, back where he’d left Morris and the boy, the shouts had reached a crescendo and then stopped. He was running out of time—he needed to go back and make sure that Morris was okay.

  “Merritt,” Roland said. “Merritt!”

  Roland sighed and looked back towards where he’d left Morris.

  “Merritt,” he yelled.

  “What?” Merritt yelled back. “Damn it, Roland, I almost had her. Now I’ve lost her.”

  He walked out of the inky black shadows and approached where Roland stood.

  “Morris was stabbed,” Roland said.

  “What? By who?”

  “Probably by whatever you were just chasing.”

  “She doesn’t stab people, she bites them,” Merritt said.

  “So you were chasing the witch? Morris said it was a crazy woman.”

  “I don’t know. I just figured it was the witch, I guess. Maybe not. I never really got that close. Where’s Morris?”

  “Back this way.”

  Roland led the way using the terrain as his guide he got back to approximately where he thought he’d left Morris and then demanded Merritt’s light.

  “Where’s yours?”

  “I gave it to the kid—David.”

  Merritt turned on his light and handed it to Roland.

  “He’s here too?”

  “Yeah, and his mom.”

  “It’s like a block party out here,” Merritt said.

  Roland found a spot where the ferns were trampled and stained with blood. Merritt took back the light and led them through the underbrush, following the trail of blood.

  “I’d say there’s someone else here too,” Merritt said when the footprints tracked through a muddy patch of soil. “Looks like boots.”

  “I didn’t invite them,” Roland said. “Must be another crasher. They’re headed for the road. Let’s pick up the old pit trails and cut them off.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Road

  WES AND GWEN SPENT several minutes banging on the glass and trying to find a way out of the locked police car. They were captive in the back seat, and it was meant to withstand escape attempts.

  “Let’s just wait,” Gwen said eventually. “She’ll come back.”

  “She’s supposed to be taking us to Don. She knows his condition is serious. I don’t understand how she could just leave us like this.”

  “Don’s fine. Please don’t call the police again,” Gwen said. “They’re not going to react any faster if you harass them.”

  “Fine,” Wes said. He put his phone back in his shirt pocket.

  They watched out the window, helpless and impatient. Gwen closed her eyes.

  “Migraine?” Wes asked.

  “No, actually,” Gwen said. “I took pills earlier and for once they seem to have really done the job. Usually the pain is still there, but the pills allow me to stop caring about it.”

  “What happened at the Umber’s? Do you remember any more of it?” Wes asked.

  “No. Last thing I remember was sitting down in our room. I was going to get to bed early. I’ve got a tough schedule in the morning,” Gwen said.

  “You might want to cancel. Who knows how long the hospital will take, and then the police might want to have another conversation.”

  “Wes, be quiet for a second,” Gwen said. She whispered, “Look there.”

  Across the road the bushes at the edge of the woods thrashed as someone crashed through. The way the lights on the roof flashed, different areas were illuminated in bright blue, but this area was in the shadows. The person stumbled to the edge of the road and then collapsed on the sandy shoulder. Wes and Gwen pounded on the glass and yelled, but the person remained motionless.

  “Is there an animal in the woods?” Gwen asked.

  “Where?” Wes asked.

  “I thought I saw a set of eyes reflecting the blue lights. It was between those two trees there. You didn’t see them?”

  “No,” Wes said. “I guess I was too busy looking at the person. Does that look like Marianne to you?”

  “No,” Gwen said.

  Wes couldn’t take his eyes off the slumped form across the road. The longer he looked, the less it looked like a person. It looked more like litter—some paper bag thrown out the window by a thoughtless teenager. Wes stared, hoping the person would move so he could convince himself it was real. He didn’t want to look away when his wife pointed and spoke again.

  “Wes, there,” Gwen said.

  “What?”

  “All those people.”

  With that, he looked away. She was pointing farther down the road, where an entire group emerged from the woods. In the lead, a kid held a flashlight. Behind him, two people propped up a third between them. His legs moved, but it didn’t look like he was supporting much of his own weight.

  Gwen automatically reached for the door handle, wanting to go assist. Her hand came away frustrated. The handle didn’t work. When they got within a dozen paces of the car, one of the people split off from the injured man and ran over. It was Officer Presby. She opened Gwen’s side.

  “We need your help,” she said to Gwen.

  Officer Presby went to the front seat, started the engine, and turned on the headlights.

  “Get him up front, in the light,” she said. She made another call on her radio as Gwen and Melanie carried Morris to the light. Wes helped them lay the big man down.

  “You must have a first aid kit,” Gwen said. “Get it for me.”

  Officer Presby ran to the trunk and came back with a white box.

  She turned and put her hand on her gun as two men came running down the dirt road from the old gravel pit.

  “That’s our cousin,” Roland said.

  “It’s okay,” David said to Officer Presby. “They’re good guys.”

  Presby stayed back and let Gwen treat the patient. Melanie begged again for a ride back to her car, but Presby delayed. They all looked up when they heard the approaching sirens.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Discussion

  AS SOON AS ANOTHER police car arrived, Melanie jumped on her chance to get a ride back to her car and her daughter. She piled David in
to the back seat and frowned when Roland got in as well. Merritt was riding in the ambulance with Morris, and Roland was going back to the trailer to fetch his car.

  Officer Richardson pulled up the long drive and his headlights swept over Melanie’s vehicle—it was empty.

  “Oh, come on,” Melanie said. She was out of the cruiser and running towards her car before Officer Richardson could even bring his vehicle to a stop.

  “Ma’am,” he called. He got out and trotted after Melanie.

  Roland turned around and talked to David through the glass. “Your sister supposed to be in there?” he asked.

  “Yeah, she’s probably just asleep. She could go to sleep anywhere,” David said. “I didn’t want to say in front of my mom, but you know it’s not over, right?”

  “I think it’s over for us,” Roland said. “I take it the witch has left for greener pastures?”

  “Yeah,” David said. “I had a dream. The thing that stabbed Morris was the Master. It wanted to kill you three so you wouldn’t hunt the witch anymore.”

  “Wanted? It doesn’t want to anymore?” Roland asked.

  “I doubt it. I think it probably has to follow the witch. The Master depends on the witch and she went farther north,” David said.

  “You always seem so sure,” Roland said.

  “It’s my blood. I dream these things because they’re connected to my blood.”

  “That’s exactly what my uncle always used to say. He was always right about this stuff too. And he kept that witch in line for decades.”

  “Master,” David whispered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing,” David said.

  “David, get over here,” Melanie called.

  “I gotta go,” David said to Roland.

  “Stay in touch.”

  David got out of the police car and walked over to his mother. She had her arm around Susan and was talking to Officer Richardson.

  “Yes, right after work,” Melanie said to Officer Richardson as David approached.

  “And could we have a quick chat with your son at that time as well?”

  “No,” Melanie said. “I’ll have him write down everything he remembers and I’ll send that to you. It might not be tomorrow. He has camp tomorrow.”

  “I can’t go to camp tomorrow,” David said.

  “Get in the car,” Melanie said.

  “But I don’t want to go.”

  “Get in the car.”

  She turned back to the officer with an exasperated smiled.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  # # # #

  When they pulled to the end of the long driveway and turned onto the road, David tried to smooth things over with his mom.

  “Thanks for bringing us down, Mom. Even though Mr. Morris got stabbed, I really think we helped. In my dream, he was killed. But in real life, the ambulance guys said he was going to be fine,” David said.

  “I don’t care what you think we did here tonight,” Melanie said. “I learned a valuable lesson. You jumped out of the car and ran off into the woods, putting all three of us in danger. It’s just like the last time you ran off, David. I don’t know what I have to do to teach you to listen.”

  “But, Mom.”

  The GPS chimed in and instructed Melanie to take her next right.

  “My job is to keep you safe. You’re impulsive and you run off right into the teeth of danger.”

  “Mr. Morris needed my help.”

  “What help did you give him? All you did was show up and get hit on the head. You’re lucky you didn’t get a concussion or worse. You could have been stabbed by the crazy person who stabbed Morris. So you didn’t stop him from being attacked, and you put all of us in danger.”

  “Mom,” Susan said.

  “Don’t you start, either. You’re just as much to blame for us coming down here tonight. You two with your dreams about people being murdered.”

  “They might have been if we hadn’t come,” Susan said.

  “Well that’s just a matter of opinion, isn’t it.”

  They drove in silence for a few seconds before Melanie stood on the brakes, bringing the car to sudden stop.

  “Shit!” Melanie yelled.

  “What was it?” Susan asked, leaning forward.

  “Just someone’s dog. The thing just ran across the road. I almost hit it,” Melanie said.

  “Mom, get going,” David said.

  Melanie didn’t respond. She turned the wheel and drove fast.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Trailer

  “NO, I APPRECIATE THE offer, but I do best on my own,” Morris said. “Every time the three of us get mixed up together, I’m the one who ends up in the hospital.”

  Roland laughed and sat down in the chair across from Morris.

  “Did the police come and visit you last night?” Roland asked.

  “Just for a minute, after you and Merritt left. I could have just told them I fell on my knife and saved some trouble,” Morris said. He adjusted his position on the couch and made a face as he gripped his side. He wore a spare shirt that Roland gave him—the paramedics had cut off the one he was wearing. The plaid looked funny on him and he looked uncomfortable wearing it.

  “So what did you tell them?”

  “Same as you, I hope,” Morris said. “You have any booze in this joint?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what do you have?”

  “Pop?”

  “Sold.”

  Roland walked over to the kitchen area and fished around in the fridge. He took a soda from the bottom, where they were most cold.

  “Something to eat?”

  “Nope. I got them to bring me a sandwich before I left emergency. Figured I already paid for it.”

  Roland returned with a couple of cans. He handed one to Morris, who leaned forward with another wince.

  “So you told them something was stalking the deer?” Roland asked.

  “Yup. I told them just like we agreed—we had the deer herded up out there in the woods and we heard something bothering them, so we went out to check. I got stabbed. End of story.”

  “There’s going to be more questions,” Roland said.

  Morris took a long swallow from his can and set it down on the table.

  “I’m going to head home and get some rest,” Morris said. He got to his feet with effort, ignoring Roland’s proffered hand. “It was a long night.”

  Roland stood by the door and waited for Morris to shuffle over to it.

  “Don’t forget to limp,” Roland said. “Be a hell of a time to lose your disability.”

  “Don’t jinx me,” Morris said. He put a hand on Roland’s shoulder as he passed. “Well we didn’t catch her, but I guess we drove her off.”

  “Just in time, too,” Roland said. “I heard that neighbor boy is in the hospital. If we hadn’t stirred up the woods, he might be dead by now.”

  “Yup, traded his hospital visit for my own, I guess,” Morris said. “And nothing to show for it.”

  # # # #

  Roland didn’t do much the day that Morris left. In the morning, he corralled the deer back to their proper pen and dismantled the traps they’d set in the forest. It was just dumb luck that nobody had gotten hurt the night before—all those people wandering around in the woods. He wound up barbed wire and rounded up the leg traps. He stored all of this stuff—poacher’s tools, Morris called them—in a locked cabinet beneath the trailer. Like most of the tools around his house, these had been handed down by his uncle and Roland cared for them with reverence.

  As Roland finished putting away the traps—some of them, like the leg traps, illegal—he heard men banging through the woods. Roland watched them when they came close to his yard. They didn’t seem to care how much noise they made or how many tracks they obscured with their heavy boots. They didn’t even seem to notice the vestiges of the traps that Roland had just dismantled. Roland gave the men a wave as they passed by. He spent most o
f the afternoon inside the trailer under the undulating currents of his fan.

  He left the brush for the following day. They’d cut down a bunch of trees so the floodlights would shine all the way to House Rock, and now the drooping leaves cluttered the path. Roland worked his way down the trunks. He took off all the branches and dragged them back to a big pile before he bucked the trunks up into manageable lengths. It was the wrong time of year to cut firewood, and these logs would take two seasons to cure properly because of it. He was dragging limbs when Merritt finally arrived.

  “Thought you’d wait for all the hard work to be done,” Roland said.

  “I was visiting our cousin. He’s healing well,” Merritt said.

  “That’s good to hear.”

  They worked hard and spoke little until they took a break that afternoon. Roland and Merritt got along best when they didn’t have much cause to talk to each other. When they took a break they were both sweating through their shirts. Roland went inside and came out with cold drinks and candy bars.

  “You know, David says it’s not done,” Roland said sitting on the step next to Merritt.

  “I figured as much. We’re done with it though, I gather.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Roland said. “Then again, I thought we were done last time.”

  “How long is Morris going to be laid up? That’s going to put the hurt on his wallet, isn’t it?” Merritt asked.

  “He said he doesn’t earn very much this time of year anyway. He’ll be totally healed up by September. That’s his busy season. What do you hear from Harris lately? He used to run those fishing trips off of the point, didn’t he?” Roland asked.

  “Did you hear something?” Merritt asked.

  Roland looked up at the sun. It was too early for the UPS guy to come, but something was coming up the drive. Gravel popped under a tire and a bicycle rolled into view. Merritt looked at Roland with surprise as the two watched Don roll up and stop next to the car. He stepped off his bike, leaned it carefully up against a rusty snowplow, and walked up to the men.

  “Hi,” Don said. “I live over on the Bartlett Road—just on the other side of these woods, actually—and my dog is missing?”