by David Wood
Chapter 19
Amos looked him up and down when he emerged into the cool light of dawn. “The hell happened to you?”
Grant smiled. “I've been prepared. I'm glad you knew Ma Withers. I feel like we've got a fighting chance.”
The old woman followed him onto the front porch. “Things happen for a reason at their intended time, son. You happened for a reason, Cassie did too. And the complacency of the fools in town as well. Question is, whether you can make the best of it or the worst. Ain't no justice to who prevails in things like this, evil wins out as often as good.”
Grant frowned, scratched nervously at his hair where the witch's concoction dried. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“All I done is get you ready as best I can. I don't even know if any of it is gonna help. I ain't the warlock my grandaddy was.”
Grant and Amos both turned sharply to stare at the old woman. “Grandaddy?” they said in unison.
Ma Withers smiled and sat down.
“But that would make you...” Grant started.
“Old as sin and twice as deadly,” Ma said with a wicked grin. “That's right. But enough of that. Like I said, I can't guarantee nothing I did is gonna help you, but we can hope it does. If we're all lucky.”
“So what now?” Grant asked. “Where now?”
“They’s place called Natural Bridge Caverns,” Ma said. “It's part of a big old tourist attraction.”
“Used to take Elijah there when he was a young 'un.” A wistful smile crept across Amos's face, then crumpled in a wave of sadness.
Ma Withers nodded. “Most folk around here do. But there's more to the caves than most folk know about and the dead girls before was always found on the other side of that mountain. They's caves back there that's not on the tourist maps. They's tight, twisting passages a man can barely squeeze through, and dropoffs down into nothing. Too dangerous to let people wander in there. It's fenced off, but I got me a hunch them fools use those caverns for their rituals.” She grimaced as she said the last word. “Josiah Brunswick wrote a little bit about it. I can't say I know it for sure, but I'll bet my pinky toe and one of my own fingers that's where they'll be taking Cassie.”
“We have nothing else to go on,” Grant said. “I suppose we have to try.”
Ma Withers went inside to find some paper and a pen and sketched a hasty map of the surrounding country, though Amos insisted he knew the way. It wouldn't be easy to get to the caves she had talked about, as it was several miles hike across some rough country. The only other way in was a drive into town, then back up the valley along a dirt road, but Grant was not prepared to risk a run-in with the Stallards or Brunswicks beforehand. They had already shown the night before that they were happy to shoot him on sight, and he didn't fancy his chances on a narrow road in broad daylight, and he was certain they'd have the road guarded.
After some more sketching and talking, they had a route planned and Ma Withers gave them some more bread and fruit for the journey.
“You know, you 'uns could just sit up here with me and wait til it's all over,” she said as they prepared to leave. “This town has an uncanny way of forgetting all about the mayhem once it's done and gone.”
Grant shook his head. “Not this time. Fifty years ago, maybe, but this town is more connected to the world now and things will get messy. And besides, I simply cannot let Cassie be killed by a demon!”
“And I mean to save my son before he's in so deep there ain't no saving him,” Amos said, his eyes hard.
“I had to try.” Ma Withers smiled and put a bony hand on each of their shoulders. “Well, I done my best and I'll sit here and hope it's enough. You're two strong young men, in mind and body.” The corner of Amos's mouth twitched upward at being called young. “You just might can finish what old Josiah started. You realize, now, that as long as there's a Brunswick left alive with a drop of Josiah's blood, it ain't over.”
They stood in silence for a moment, taking in the implications of Ma's words.
“You mean, without that bloodline, there's no chance of Kaletherex ever coming back?”
“That'd be exactly what I mean. Right now, Cassie is the only virgin girl child left. If she were to, say, lose that virginity...” Ma gave Grant a broad wink.
“Well, I don't know.” Grant cursed the hot red flush he felt run up his cheeks.
“Oh, who do you think you foolin', boy? You sweet on her something fierce. And I reckon she done cottoned to you too.” She flapped a hand at any further protestations. “Any how, that's but one line of attack. You gotta make sure her daddy can't never make another daughter. You know what I mean.” It wasn't a question. “And when you get out of this, you take that girl as far away from Wallen's Gap as you can, and keep your babies away as well.” Ma Withers' face was suddenly serious. “Else Cassie can't be allowed to survive neither.”
“They's other Brunswick kin around here,” Amos said. “All them white folks got their family trees twisted up together.”
“They's some.” Ma Withers nodded slowly. “But not near as many as you think. I know who all is left, and I reckon they all gonna be there tonight.”
Grant looked at the floor, overwhelmed by the possibilities. “I'm going to save Cassie, and help Amos save Elijah. I just don't know if we would even be able to start killing people left and right. I'm not a murderer.”
“It ain't murder to kill the foxes when they in your hen house.” Ma shrugged and patted his shoulder. “I just wants to make sure you going in with open eyes. Now good luck to you both. My thoughts is with you, for all the good they're likely to do.”
Grant leaned down and kissed the old woman on the cheek. “You've done more than enough already, thank you. You've given me a chance.”
“That finger you got gonna cost you, don't forget that. But it could save you too.”
Grant nodded, unsure just how the finger might cost him, but he chose not to think too hard on it. How could he possibly plan for what lay ahead of him? He had a weapon, and a place to take it. Beyond that, he would have to react to things as they happened and hope he came out on top. “Thank you,” he said again.
Ma Withers nodded, but her face was sad. Her eyes, hooded in their myriad folds of dark skin, were wet and she looked more tired than anyone Grant had ever seen.
“You ready, Amos?” Grant asked.
“Ready as I'll ever be. God and Jesus almighty, I wish I was doing about anything right now but what we're planning.”
“Me too, but I guess we don't have any choice.”
“All things happen for a reason,” Ma Withers said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Grant and Amos turned towards the trees and headed off across the clearing. A knot of doubt and fear in Grant's gut weighed him down, but he did his best to ignore it as they strode into the forest.
Ma returned the two men's waves as they disappeared into the trees, and sat heavily into a small chair on her front porch. She had never been so tired, but it had been a long time since she had felt this much at peace.
“I done all I could for you, Grandaddy,” she said in a weak voice. “I think I finally earned me a proper rest.”
She looked out at the trees, at the sunlight dappling through the leaves. Birds sang and a soft breeze rustled through, carrying with it the scent of bark and loam. She had never seen beyond this day, even in her clearest dreams. Grant looked to be every bit the hero she had thought he would be, though he was a far sight younger than she had expected. Dreams and portents were never really clear enough, never gave any true detail. But she had played her part and now Grant and Amos would have to play theirs. She had never been able to see what lay beyond this moment and she was happy with that. She didn't want to see any more. She had hope.
Ma Withers closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the mountain air. Slowly the rise and fall of her chest slowed, became shallower and shallower, until it didn't rise again.
Chapter 20
Grant and
Amos hiked through rough country in the shade of the dense forest. Ma's map and Amos's innate local sense of the landscape meant they never worried about reaching their destination, but the trek was longer and more arduous than they had expected. Amos kept reminding Grant that he was an old man and Grant reminded him that for an old man who had been shot the day before, he was doing pretty well.
The day began to wane as they pushed on toward the other side of the mountain. Dusk came early among the high mountain peaks and dense trees. Grant endured the increasing sense of dread that sat in his gut like a rock and threw himself into the physical exertion to help ignore it. He felt like a condemned man, each step bringing him closer to his demise, yet there was something satisfying in that. For the first time in his life he had a true purpose, an unquestionable destiny. And while that destiny almost certainly ended with his death, it gave him a sense of relevance that he had never felt before. If this would be the end of his life, it would be a short life indeed, but one with more experience than many people ever saw in their three score years and ten.
It was near sundown when they finally crested a ridge and saw a deep, narrow valley slicing through the mountain below. Grant pulled Amos to a stop and crouched low in the scrub. He pointed.
“People down there. And look, you can see a dark hole between the trees. A cave entrance?”
Amos squinted through the lowering sun. “Sure looks like it. That fellow there is distant kin to the Stallards, and the pretty thing next to him is his wife.” He sucked his teeth in disapproval. “I thought they was all right. That woman is a Sunday School teacher, and not at the Stallard's church, neither.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “Really? Seems Ma was right when she said this whole town was in on the thing. How come you've never been drawn into this?”
Amos gestured at his old, wrinkled face. “A black man might have a better life in a town like this than he used to, but he ain't no equal member of society. Too many people got fond memories of segregation, if you catch my drift.” He chuckled ruefully. “I reckon this old skin served me well.”
“Not so much your son, I guess.”
“When Doctor King pictured children of all colors joining hands, this ain't what he had in mind.” Amos looked at the forest floor, and shook his head. “I used to pray that my boy wouldn't have a life like mine, could just be seen as a man like anybody else. Didn't ever think I'd curse society for including him. But Elijah is a good boy. He got proper home training. I don't understand why he did this.”
“Maybe he was desperate to fit in, to be accepted in his home town. And maybe was proud to have succeeded. Only, this town isn't really the kind of society you want to be accepted into.”
Amos nodded, still looking down. “He tried to save me even though he was prepared to give you up. He's brainwashed by these fools, but there's goodness in him yet. I have to believe there is.”
“I'm sure you're right. We'll get him out of this.” Grant winced internally at the inadvertent lie he had told. What chance did he have of surviving this himself, let alone saving Cassie and Elijah too? But he was not about to give up without trying.
They moved along the ridge to get a better view and a track became clear through the trees below. The path wound down the hillside to the cave mouth, where two burly men, both armed, stood guard at either side. The Stallard cousin and his wife went into the caves after a brief friendly chat with the guards, though Grant and Amos were too far away to hear what they discussed.
Revulsion curdled Grant's stomach as he watched these carefree people acting as if this occasion were no more grave than a family picnic. The fact that they were about to do murder seemed not to occur to them, or if it did, they didn't care.
Grant and Amos moved further down, careful to avoid fallen branches that might give them away with a sharp crack in the still air. When they were only twenty yards or so above the guards they hunkered down again. Amos tapped Grant's shoulder, pointed. Two more people made their way along the track.
“Howdy boys,” said one. “It's a fine evening for it, ain't it?”
“You're late,” one of the guards said. “Cuttin' it damn close. Better get inside.”
“Really? We the last to arrive?”
“Pretty much. Everyone else is inside and we're only waiting on Jed and Jesse, then we start.”
Grant's hackles rose at the mention of the Stallard brother's names. He bit down on anger and waited.
“How long till the conjunction?” one on the track asked.
“Half an hour, maybe? Now get inside.”
The men looked at each other, clearly surprised, and hurried in.
Grant turned to Amos, his eyes wide. “I thought we had until tonight,” he whispered.
Amos shrugged. “I guess a planetary alignment don't have to wait for night to be in effect.”
“We have to hurry!”
Amos pointed at the guards still standing by the cave entrance. “And do what?”
Grant fumed. He felt at once empowered by Ma Withers' ministrations, and simultaneously useless and weak. They had one bowie knife between them against a whole town with guns and a demon on their side. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. Ma Withers' words echoed in his memory. Things happen for a reason at their right time, son. You happened for a reason, Cassie did too.
Maybe there was something beyond him on his side and this was the right time. More of Ma's words worried at the back of his mind. Ain't no justice to who prevails in things like this, evil wins out as often as good. Well, fuck it all. There was just as little justice for these evil bastards as there was for him and maybe one angry young man was all the catalyst needed to make a difference.
“I need to get inside,” he whispered. “I've no idea what I can do in there, but I certainly can't do anything from out here.”
Amos nodded, looked along the narrow valley trail. “I'll make you a distraction. Draw those guards away from the cave entrance. When they move, you slip in behind.”
“And what about you?”
“I'm a fair woodsman. I'll take my chances.”
Grant reached out and shook Amos's hand. “Thank you, Amos, really. You've been more than good to me.”
“You just make sure it's worth something, son.”
“We will.”
Amos nodded once and slipped away between the trees without another word.
Grant sat on the dry ground and breathed deeply, trying to prepare himself for whatever he might find inside the cave. The rock of fear and doubt swelled outward, anxiety-fueled energy surging through his chest and limbs. His eyes sharpened and he felt a sense of purpose and clarity of vision unlike anything he had known before. He pulled old Josiah's finger from its tin and it danced and writhed in his grip, gesturing frantically at the cave mouth. He smiled and put it back into his pocket, not bothering with the tin. The furious squirming of it against his hip was empowering. “Come on, Josiah,” he whispered to it. “Let's see if we can't finish this thing.”
A voice rang out from away down the trail. “Hey, you two. Help me here! Jesse's hurt!”
Grant squinted into the trees. From his vantage point he saw Amos away down the trail, doing a passable impersonation of Jed Stallard. The two guards exchanged a surprised look. To Grant's chagrin, only one of them left his post. He saw Amos duck into the trees and hightail it up the valley side, the lone guard moving in his direction. Grant would have to finish the other man.
He picked up a stone the size of his two fists, and looked down at the lone remaining guard, who gazed off in the direction his partner had gone. His pistol was holstered, his thumbs tucked into his belt. If Grant were fast, he had a chance. Hefting the rock, he crept down the slope toward the man below. The soft, loamy earth masked the sound of his approach. He was almost directly above the cave mouth when he dislodged a pebble, sending it bouncing down with a clatter that his nerves amplified into a rumble like a landslide.
The guard turned around, more cu
rious than alarmed. His eyes widened when he saw Grant. He fumbled for his pistol, but Grant was already flying through the air. He brought the rock crashing down on the man's head. The fellow crumpled to the ground, his limp body cushioning Grant's fall.
The guy was too big and too heavy for Grant to do a proper job of it, but he managed to drag the unconscious guard into the nearby underbrush where did a half-assed job of covering him in leaves and pine needles. He helped himself to the man's pistol, a snub nosed .38 revolver. The cylinder was full, but the man carried no spare bullets. Obviously hadn't been expecting trouble. Grant imagined there would be a lot more than six people inside, but it was better than nothing.
With a smile and a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening, Grant slipped into the cool darkness of the cave.
Chapter 21
The orange glow of lanterns set in carved niches cast long shadows as Grant passed from the light of one into the next. He navigated a series of twists and turns, sometimes being forced to scoot along on his belly until, finally, the pass curved slowly to the left and opened up into a huge cavern.
Grant stifled a gasp. Lanterns and candles all around the walls and floor lit the cavern, but still it was so tall that the roof was lost in flickering shadows like squirming ink. Dozens of people stood around the uneven cavern floor, the murmur of low conversation imparting a sense of tense excitement.
Cassie lay on a stone slab in the middle of the floor. She was naked and bound, arms and legs splayed out. Grant ground his teeth, rage boiling inside him at the sight of these sickos looking upon her with undisguised animal longing. Men and women, young and old, it seemed like half the town was here, and dressed in their Sunday best. Cassie looked petrified, tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Her father stood beside her, his face a mask of zealous pride.
Voices carried along the corridor from behind and Grant hurried behind a rock outcrop at the side of the path, before it descended into the cavern.