Where Darkness Dwells

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Where Darkness Dwells Page 5

by Glen Krisch


  This had to be the house. A brass-hoop knocker hung on the door, but for some reason he knew not to use it. He took one more look around to make sure no one had followed him, then rapped his knuckles on the oak door. Three knocks. Pause. Two knocks.

  The organ's final note deflated to silence.

  His heart beat more swiftly as he waited. Before long, his fear began to resurface. Maybe he had given the wrong entry knock. Maybe he was at the wrong house. He was unsure if he should try knocking again or if he should run back to the cover of the field. He stepped away from the door and was ready to start running, when the door creaked open a few inches. It was dark inside. Cooper saw little more than an old woman's wrinkled forehead and two dry, rheumy eyes backlit by an oil lamp's tempered glow.

  When the door opened further, the woman beckoning him to enter, Cooper did not hesitate entering the darkness therein…

  Cooper shook awake from his dream, the last moments as clear as day, yet fleetingly vague.

  Looming cornstalks.

  An old woman opening a creaky door.

  An overpowering sense of security walking into the stranger's darkened house.

  Escape.

  He checked his pocket watch. It was shortly after five. He better get going or he'd miss his first meal prepared by Miss Thea Calder. No way he would miss this meal. Even if he weren't so hungry, he wouldn't miss it for anything.

  His dream faded, but the nearly overwhelming feeling of security and happiness lingered on. Holding onto the feeling, finding comfort in its strength, he made his way down to the dining room. The first to arrive, he sat at the middle of the table facing the door he entered. The large oak table could seat twelve, but only five placements had been set. He took a folded napkin and spread it across his lap.

  He hadn't eaten in an actual dining room since leaving Chicago. Since then, he usually prepared his meals over an open fire pit. Occasionally, he would venture into an inviting mom and pop diner and take refuge for an hour or two.

  Just when Cooper was starting to think he'd found the wrong dining room, an old man entered. He limped through the entryway and sat across from Cooper without acknowledging him. He took his napkin, wiped his sallow lips, then set it aside.

  "Hello?"

  "Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't see so well lately. Actually, to be honest, I see closer to not at all more than anything."

  "It's all right, really. It sure is dark with the curtains pulled."

  "It's not all right by any means. I consider myself a gentleman, and not acknowledging someone you're going to break bread with is just downright rude, regardless of the situation. I'm Jasper Cartwright." His hair was soft, shaggy over the ears and gleaming white. He kept his mustache trimmed in impeccably tidy angles. Cooper wondered if the old man could still see enough to maintain his mustache to such standards, or if he had help, from possibly Magee or Bo.

  "I'm Theodore Cooper. Most people call me Cooper."

  "Nice to meet you, Cooper. Are you staying under the roof of our benevolent hostess, Thea Calder?"

  "I'm staying at least for the night."

  "I myself have been a perpetual guest for several years now. Oh, are you in for a treat. Her hospitality is unrivalled!"

  "I don't know Jasper, but your voice seems to have a slice of sarcasm to it."

  "Certainly it does. Since you noticed, that must mean you've met Thea Calder!" Jasper said, his voice as dry as autumn hay.

  So far, Cooper was enjoying his visit to Coal Hollow. Even the tension Thea Calder carried with her like a storm cloud was somehow comforting. Cooper had just met Jasper, but he was starting to think the old man could only add to the town's charm.

  "I've met our hostess. She doesn't seem all that bad."

  "It must be one of her good days."

  Cooper and Jasper shared a bonding laughter.

  Two men entered the dining hall, talking avidly. Cooper recognized one of the men. It was Magee from Magee's barbershop. He looked none the worse for wear despite having earlier been in a drunken stupor.

  "Well, Jasper, good evening," said the man Cooper didn't recognize.

  "Evening Doc. Magee. Gentlemen, this is Cooper. He's new to town."

  Cooper stood and shook hands with the new arrivals.

  "Cooper, if you're ever feeling poorly, Dr. Thompson is the man to see. He can cure a mule of its stubbornness. Sure, he'll make you feel better, but in the same sense, make you feel even more poorly… in the wallet!" The three townsfolk all broke out in laughter, Dr. Thompson the most red faced and teary-eyed. Cooper hesitated to join in. Having spent so long on the road had eroded his social skills to a certain extent.

  Dr. Thompson cut off their laughter. "Magee here runs a barber shop. He and his friend, Bo Tingsley," the graying doctor said as he dabbed at his eyes with a napkin.

  "Oh, I met Bo already," Cooper added.

  "I thought so." Thompson nodded to acknowledge Cooper's fresh haircut. "Turns out half the town gets a Magee haircut, the other gets a professional one. Looks like you got the latter," the doctor said, barely choking back his laughter before finishing the last of his sentence.

  Magee scrunched his face like he'd eaten something tart, but his expression softened to a wrinkled smile.

  Cooper looked at each man, noting the similarities in their appearance. They had probably known each other so long that they'd begun to look alike. All gray or graying, all with the same laugh lines at the corners of their mouths. All sported Bo Tingsley haircuts.

  "I like my haircut fine, but I'll have to try out Magee the next go-around," Cooper said.

  A man, who looked like he hadn't sat in a barber's chair for quite a while, entered the room. He wore a stained apron and no smile whatsoever. "Thea isn't feeling well. I'll bring some beef dumplings in a couple minutes."

  "Henry, do you want me to look in on her?" Dr. Thompson said, halfway up from his chair.

  Henry Calder waved the doctor to sit back down. "No, Doc, I don't think it's anything you can help with. It's a malady of a womanly nature. She just needs her rest."

  "If anything changes, you let me know."

  "The dumplings will be right out."

  When Cooper was sure he was out of earshot, he said, "He's an abrupt fellow."

  "Sure is. He wears on you after awhile," Jasper said.

  "Wears like a shoe with a rock in it," Magee said, keeping his voice from drifting past the table. "At least supper will be somewhat palatable." Even though Henry Calder would soon serve a more desirable meal, the mood in the dining room had changed. Moments before the room was full of laughter. Now it seemed a heavy cloud of disappointment hung about like a stray animal.

  They were silent and Cooper couldn't think of a thing to say to make it otherwise. The bells above the general store's door jangled as the door flew wide. A child's light, sandaled feet slapped the floor as someone ran through the store.

  "Doc! Doc Thompson!"

  The curtain flew open, and in rushed a dirty-faced girl with loose blonde braids. Salty tears streaked her face. A thin trail of blood flowed from her left nostril.

  "Georgie's gone! Daddy's gone, too!" the little girl said between panting breaths. Drenched with sweat, her fair complexion was turning rosier by the second.

  Dr. Thompson stood and went to the girl. He moved faster than Cooper thought possible. His knees popped like damp firewood as he squatted to the girl's eye level.

  "Slow down, Ellie. You're going to scare yourself into a fainting spell." The doctor took out his kerchief and daubed the blood from her nose.

  The girl took a deep, hitching breath. "G-georgie's gone. Daddy went looking for him." With her next breath the hitching in her chest brought along fresh tears. They streamed freer down her cheeks. The doctor dried these, also. "Daddy said to stay put. But I got scared when he didn't come back." It seemed her fresh tears loosened her voice, and now her voice was both smooth and heartbreaking.

  "Where'd your brother go? How long's he been gone?"
Magee asked. Dr. Thompson shot him a look as he continued to console the girl.

  "Last night. He snuck out after Daddy… after Daddy went to sleep. I waited awhile, until morning, just in case he came home on his own. Then I woke Daddy."

  Dr. Thompson pushed some hair from her forehead. "Ellie, couldn't George just be fishing?"

  "Georgie doesn't fish with guns. I woke up when he took the over/under from the rack. Georgie doesn't touch Daddy's gun for nothing. He took the gun and snuck out the window."

  Cooper sat back and took in the whirling conversation.

  "Why'd he leave like that?" Magee asked.

  "Dunno, but he sure was in a hurry." The girl's tears had stopped for the moment. She put an arm around Dr. Thompson's neck, and she looked like she didn't want to let go.

  "Does Sheriff Bergman know about this?"

  "No. I knew you eat here, so I came to tell you."

  "Well, we should probably let the sheriff know." The doctor stood, his movements much slower now.

  "Don't go!"

  "I'm not going anywhere alone. You're coming with me."

  "Find Georgie for me, Doc. Find my Georgie."

  "I'm sure he'll turn up in no time at all. Don't you worry." Thompson and the little girl walked back through the store.

  The bells above the door were still jingling when Henry Calder entered, a heaping pot of beef dumplings steaming in his hands. His expression wasn't especially pleasant when he counted heads and came up one short. He slammed the food down then left without saying a word.

  7.

  Wandering waist-high fields with a group of strangers, Cooper wondered why he decided to tag along at all. He didn't know George Banyon, and he didn't know these people, either. Maybe it was Ellie's desperation to find her brother, or perhaps he had been on the road too long and he had his own desperation eating away at him--desperation for human contact. In the end, he decided he might as well help a little girl along the way if for no other reason.

  Not long after Ellie and Dr. Thompson bolted from Calder's dining room, they returned with the sheriff. Everyone but Jasper Cartwright and his failing vision volunteered to look for Ellie's brother. After leaving the dining room, the search party nearly trampled a man sitting on the plank walkway outside the market. Magee introduced the new man to Cooper as Arlen Polk. After a brief conversation with Sheriff Bergman, he joined their ranks.

  Polk was dimwitted, Cooper could tell by his always-questioning eyes and slack jaw, but he seemed genuinely concerned about George's whereabouts. He was a shade over five foot tall, and his longish black hair and beard were greasy and unkempt. His eyes had a twitchy quality, and Cooper had a tough time deciding if Polk was closer to twenty years old or forty.

  Sheriff Bergman's tan bowler cap seemed out of place sitting atop his pear-shaped head. He was no more than about thirty, and his excitability made him appear younger. Bergman led the way, pushing aside the dry, razor-sharp grass with a long tree branch he scavenged as they began their search. He looked like a scythe-wielding reaper intent on clearing all the land as they went. They would make good time with Bergman in the lead.

  Cooper remained at the rear, matching strides with Magee, letting the others determine the direction of their search. He kept his eyes peeled for a boy of unspecified height and features, a boy everyone seemed terribly worried about. They were a good distance from town when they realized Polk carried their only oil lamp to fend off the coming dark. Luckily, the moon cut a bright yellow streak through the cloudless sky.

  "Where we gonna look?" Polk asked to no one in particular. After leaving the town behind, they had fanned out and most of their conversation died off. It was a while before anyone responded.

  Bergman broke the silence. "George Banyon didn't take food or other provisions. He wasn't going farther than he could walk from his home. This stretch of field covers between town and the Banyon place. We'll cover the ground surrounding their property first. Also, something scared George enough to carry a gun. Something scared him enough to take his Pa's gun without waking him. Even though George has his own gun, it was important enough to take the over/under without permission."

  Cooper was impressed with Bergman's logic. He'd been on the road long enough to know that you don't go off on a long journey without first figuring out what supplies you needed. It also made him question beginning their search with night descending and Bergman's Colt revolver the group's only weapon. If George needed his father's gun for protection, and the boy was somewhere nearby, maybe Bergman was walking them straight into trouble.

  A thought crossed Cooper's mind. "What about the boy's dad? Shouldn't we consider where he went?" With the commotion of Ellie running into the Calder's dining room, he'd forgotten the boy's dad was also gone.

  "Oh, that's easy. Probably passed out somewhere, as usual," Magee said with a snobbish laugh.

  Cooper recalled seeing Magee just this morning snoozing in his barber's chair, a half-bottle of whiskey in his hand. He guessed a drunk would naturally know another's inclination, even while looking down his nose at his peer in vice.

  "How old is this boy, anyhow?" Cooper asked.

  "What, sixteen-seventeen now?" Polk asked, his dull eyes peering at Magee. In the light of the oil lamp, Polk's eyes gleamed yellow, and his beard stubble seemed as prickly as the thorny undergrowth at their feet.

  "Sounds about right. Ellie's no more than about eight. Their parents spread them out pretty good."

  "Mr. Banyon's a surly sonofa-bee." As Polk walked, he turned the valve to brighten his lamp.

  "Sure is. Makes Hank Calder look like a choirboy," Magee said as he watched Polk. "You just don't know what you're doing at all. Give me that." Magee took charge of holding the lamp.

  Cooper noticed movement at the top of the slight rise they were cresting. Judging his abrupt halt, Bergman also took note. The field they'd been crossing for the last half hour was transitioning to forest. A green wall of trees provided a backdrop for the movement; two people in the distance, steadily approaching.

  For the moment, Magee and Polk seemed more concerned about the oil lamp than finding the boy. Magee played with the lamp's valve as Polk held its handle.

  Cooper surged past them, moving toward the others. "Bergman," Cooper whispered. "Sheriff Bergman."

  Bergman held a hand up, "Yeah, I see it, Coop," the sheriff said, then blurted in a louder voice, "Everyone get down!" He motioned to the others. The doctor took Ellie's hand and they both kneeled in the grass. Having not heard Bergman's order, Polk and Magee continued walking toward the front of the group. Polk looked like a scolded child as they walked. Magee held the lamp, his chest puffed out like the victor of a great battle.

  "Who is it?" Cooper asked, keeping his voice low.

  "Don't know, but if something happened to George, I don't want to take a chance."

  As Polk and Magee approached, they finally noticed the sheriff motioning for them to get down. They ducked down, continuing to bicker in quieter voices.

  The approaching people disappeared into a gully. Cooper was beginning to question his reasoning for joining this search party. If he didn't know this boy at all, why was he putting himself in possible danger?

  Ellie's tears were Cooper's answer. Seeing the little girl crouched in the damp grass, the unsettling pain etched into her face, he'd do whatever he could to help find her brother.

  Bergman inched over to a mass of bushes, never letting his eyes stray from the approaching people. He pulled his Colt from his belt holster and raised it to firing height. He cocked the weapon, holding his position.

  Someone rustled through the underbrush, silencing the chirruping crickets. Someone stumbled, followed by a raspy whisper, "You should've stayed home. I didn't want you out here like this."

  While not familiar, the voice carried an unexpected quality. It was feminine.

  "Don't move! Stay right where you are!"

  After a shocked silence, the woman replied, "It's okay, sheriff, it's j
ust us." She was still not visible behind a blanket of brambles.

  "Just do as I say, and I'll say when you can move," Bergman's voice wavered as he approached the newcomers.

  The tension eased from Cooper's limbs. He stood slowly, and the others followed suit.

  "Larry, you better stop pointing that gun at me and my son!" As the woman's voice rose, its raspy quality smoothed to a light, almost lilting tone.

  "Jane Fowler, what in the world are you doing out here in the middle of the night, and with Jacob, too?" Bergman looked exasperated. His face seemed to sag, and the yellow moon made his skin appear pasty and unwashed.

  "Larry, the gun?" Jane Fowler said, the frustration in her voice evident.

  "I'm sorry, Jane." Bergman lowered his gun.

  Jane pushed aside the undergrowth and stood with her son in a small clearing. Mud caked her clothes. A ripped leaf clung to her hair. They both looked wrung through.

  Cooper made his way toward Bergman, seeing Jacob at a better angle. He looked like a broomstick with limbs, no more than thirteen or so. His eyes were dark and would probably appear equally dark in the daylight or at night. Without knowing the boy, Cooper figured Jacob's sad expression was nothing new, as if he wore layers of sadness like winter clothing.

  "I've known you since I looked after you and your sisters. How dare you point a gun at me and Jacob!"

  "Jane, I… well, how was I supposed to know it was you? We got a situation out here and we got to be ready for anything."

  "Situation? What situation? You mean you're actually playing policeman! You always loved that game when you were a little one. Or are you playing cowboys and Indians?"

  "Come on now, Jane. I'm serious."

  "Georgie's missing," Ellie interrupted as she walked to the center of this impromptu gathering.

  "Since when?" Jacob asked. His voice was somewhere between being a boy's and being a man's--scratchy and warbled in an effort to find a balance.

  "Last night. Real late," Ellie said. The two youngest people in the group had taken over the conversation.

 

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