by Ray Garton
He pressed a hand over her mouth, pressed hard, and looked into her eyes, lowering his cry to a pleading whimper. He looked around urgently, his eyes wide and frightened. After looking in every direction, he turned to Lizzie again, shook her hard and grunted, “No. No!” Then he let her go cautiously, but remained on his knee before her.
Lizzie whispered, “You’re not supposed to talk about him, are you?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
After looking around again, he said, in as close to a whisper as he could get, “He … baaad. Bad and … a-and dunned.”
“Oh, no, Benjamin. He’s not dead.”
He started to put a hand over her mouth again, but she clutched his wrist.
“It’s all right, Benjamin,” she whispered reassuringly. “No one’s here. No one can hear us.”
He pulled away from her, looking around again.
“You’re afraid of being punished, aren’t you? You’re afraid of being made to stand in that light.”
Benjamin nodded shamefully.
“Did you know that your father wanted to protect you from that light?”
He stood, waving his arms again for her to stop.
“He was not a bad man, Benjamin. What he did was … well, it was wrong, misguided, but—”
He screamed at her again and she stopped.
“Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know? Don’t you feel anything for your father?”
Benjamin looked at her for a long time, his head tilting from side to side thoughtfully. He seemed to be making some sort of decision. Finally, he nodded once and placed a finger over his lips for Lizzie to be quiet. Then he motioned for her to follow him, picked up the lantern and went to the back of the alcove. On his knees, he crawled behind the same stalagmite where he’d stored his comb and utensils. But he went deeper this time, moved aside a few small rocks and dug into the earth with his hands. He produced another cigar box, held it in front of Lizzie, in the light, and opened it.
All she could see were wadded pieces of old tissue paper.
Benjamin burrowed his fingers beneath the tissue and removed a photograph. It was stiff and warped and yellowed around the edges from dampness. In the photograph, Lizzie saw Benjamin as a little boy, his chubby hands pressed together happily before his chest. Mike Lumley was hunkered down beside him, his arm around his son’s shoulders.
Benjamin stared at the picture as if she weren’t there. He stared reverently.
Lizzie had found a way to reach him.
7.
The moment they arrived at the airfield, Flash changed. He went from grumpy and put-upon to confident and familiar with his surroundings. He was in his element, and his comfort showed.
“I’ll fire it up,” he said as he got out of the car.
Jordan could see that Marvin was scared. He was fidgety and talking too much. When they got out, Marvin walked around the front of the car, patting his sport coat and fishing through his pockets.
“What’re you looking for?” Jordan asked.
“Huh? Oh. Uh, I don’t know. The reckless bravery of my boyhood, I suppose.”
Lowering his voice, Jordan said, “Come on, don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Like I said, show him your gun if he starts playing with you. Now. If you want to worry about something, worry about what happens when you get there.”
“Yeah, yeah, that too.”
“Remember, put him down if you can. Kill him if you have to.”
“Then what? Just dance away tossing daisies in the air? We haven’t exactly had a chance to map this whole thing out, you know.”
“You know the law. You know just as much about a situation like this as I do. Hell, you got me into this shit. This is all your fault.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“The question is, what am I gonna do first. I’ve got an Inner Circle party to crash, I’m just not sure when. Hester’s got Lizzie but I don’t know where.”
“Hey. You get Lizzie out of there. She’s a terrific lady.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. You take good care of her. After spending some time with her—” He turned to look at the dirty, dark green helicopter that was beginning to putter about ten yards away. “—I’m not gonna feel like an idiot praying up there.”
Flash shouted, “Let’s go!”
“Scared?” Jordan asked.
“Shitless.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Hey, if something happens to me up there, do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Clean your damned office.”
Jordan watched his friend jog to the helicopter, duck beneath the spinning rotor and get in. He waved once before he closed the door, and in a moment, the helicopter rose slowly and thudded away. Jordan headed back to the car and said to the others, “Let’s go figure out what the hell to do next.”
8.
After he’d stared at the photograph for a long while, Benjamin whispered, “Thasss … my dad-deee.”
“It’s a very nice picture,” Lizzie said. “Do you remember that day?”
He nodded.
“Who took the picture, Benjamin?”
His head tilted first to the right, then the left, and his eyes squinted as he thought hard. Finally: “Muh-my graaah-maaaww. Duuhhh … Dad-deee hurted Graah-maaw. Mu-ver shay … he truh-try kill Graah-maaw and th-that … that he baaad.” He stopped, winded; saying so much at one time had been an effort. Then: “Muh-make … me … shad.”
“Of course it does. That would make me sad, too. But, Benjamin … I have some good news for you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder cautiously. He was startled, but didn’t protest. “Your daddy did not try to kill your grandma. A friend of mine spoke with your daddy recently.”
Benjamin jerked away from her hand and faced her, angry.
“Really. He went to the hospital where your daddy lives. Your daddy told my friend all about that day that he hurt your grandma. He feels very bad about it. Even now, after all these years, it makes your daddy very sad that he hurt Grandma. But he didn’t mean to.”
He cocked his head suddenly, like a confused puppy, and looked down at the photograph again, stroking one corner absently with his thumb.
“Would you like to know why I’m here in Grover, Benjamin?”
He nodded uncertainly.
She spoke slowly, praying that he would be able to absorb it all and reach some sort of conclusion. “I knew your mommy when we were both just little girls. We didn’t get along. Do you know why? Because even when your mommy was a little girl, Orrin was inside her. She didn’t know it then, but he was there. Then she grew up, met your daddy and they got married and went on their honeymoon. That’s, um, a little vacation people take when they get married. They came here to Grover. Your daddy says that Mommy went for a walk early one morning, and we think that might have been the day she discovered this cave … and the blue light. And we’re pretty sure that you were just a tiny little seed inside your mommy then … growing. She came to this place every day while she was here and she probably stood in that light. While you were inside her. Benjamin, we think—” She stopped, closed her eyes a moment. How could she put it? She prayed for the right words, looked at Benjamin and smiled a moment, then said, “Benjamin, we think that the blue light out there—” She gestured over her shoulder, “—could have made you … the way you are. It could have damaged you while you were inside your mommy’s tummy. Do … do you understand what I’m saying?”
The thick strip of coarse hair that ran along the edge of the crooked ridge of his eyes knotted in the center and he hunched forward, frowning at the photograph. He did nothing for a long time, then put the photograph back in its box and the box back in its hiding place. When he turned and stepped around Lizzie, his face was st
ill a dark mask of either anger or deep thought, she couldn’t tell.
“I wasn’t finished, Benjamin.”
He spun around and snarled at her.
“Your daddy didn’t mean to hurt Grandma. He meant to … well, to kill your … your mommy. Because he knew she would do bad things. Because he knew Orrin would make her do bad things. Your daddy wanted you to have a good life. Not this—” She looked around at the alcove, “—not a cave. Your daddy wanted you to be happy, like you were when the two of you played catch with the Nerf ball. Do you remember that?”
Benjamin’s eyes widened and his face softened at those words.
“Only he wanted you to be happy all the time. He didn’t want you to live in a cave and be punished with blue light and controlled by an invisible spirit that only means you—and everyone else—harm, like Orrin. He wanted only the best for you.”
He turned his head toward the place where he hid the photograph of himself and his father.
“So, he decided to … um, to kill your mommy, thinking that … well, that it might ensure you a happy future. He was wrong, Benjamin, because it’s always wrong to kill anyone, no matter what the reason. But … he was thinking of you.” It was a small lie, but she hoped it would have big results.
Benjamin stared at the ground a moment, then put a hand on each side of his head and pressed, clawing his fingers into his hair. He began to walk in a circle again around the lantern, occasionally stopping to kick the large rock on which it stood. Bending suddenly, he swept the tin Vienna sausage can off the ground and wadded it up in his hand like a piece of paper, then threw it blindly. Lizzie flinched as the can bounced loudly off the wall and surrounding rocks. Benjamin continued to circle the lantern, growling softly now.
“Why are you angry, Benjamin?” she asked. Her voice was timid, but her mind was reeling. Was he angry at her? Was he angry because his life could have been better? Was he angry at Hester? Or was he just angry because he thought Lizzie was lying again.
No response.
“Are you angry at me? Is it because I said—”
With no warning, Benjamin exploded in a scream—“Liiiaaar!”—dove toward Lizzie, gripped her beneath both arms and jerked her off the ground. He lifted her high and began shaking her like a rag doll as he carried her across the alcove to the rock on which she’d been sitting earlier. Then he dropped her.
Lizzie screamed on impact. Hot needles of pain shot up her spine and along her ribs and her scream became a miserable gag as she slid off the rock to the ground.
Benjamin continued to scream, kicking the ground and knocking damp earth and bits of gravel on Lizzie, then he locked his trembling hands together and lifted them over his head, ready to bring them down on Lizzie, but a voice said—
—“That won’t be necessary, Benjamin.”
Benjamin froze and they both turned to the alcove’s archway.
Hester smiled.
9.
“No,” Jordan said as he stopped Marvin’s car behind Coogan’s place, “absolutely not. You need to lie down and lick your wounds.”
“I’m fine,” Coogan snapped from the backseat. “Just got a few dings, is all.”
“Come on, Coogan,” Joan said, putting an arm around him, “take some aspirin, have a drink and go to bed.”
Jordan said, “Joan can stay with you for a while.”
“Oh, no,” Joan said firmly. “I’m going with you.”
Jordan rolled his eyes.
Coogan pulled away from Joan and leaned toward the front seat. “You tell me Katie’s dead, Jordan. Okay, so there ain’t a thing I can do about it and when this is all over I’ll have myself the biggest cry I’ve had since my wife died but for now—” His voice grew louder. “—my grandson is alive as far as I know and if there’s a chance he’ll be there, I’m gonna be there.”
Jordan sighed. It seemed endless. Had he known so many people were going to insist upon involving themselves in this case, he never would have taken it. Of course, he wouldn’t have taken the case if he’d known a lot of things.
“Okay, Coogan,” he said, “you can come. But, Joan—” He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “—I just don’t think it’s … well, a good idea for you to come, too.”
Joan didn’t look angry or even a little upset as she stared out the window beside her. The silence went on so long that first Lauren looked back at her, then Coogan turned to face her.
“You know, I’ve been telling myself for quite a while that there was nothing I could do about it. And I suppose that, at the time, there wasn’t. But you know … I never even found out if she was dead or alive. She could still be in there, for all I know. And even if she’s not … I don’t know, maybe this sounds stupid, but … I need to go in there with you.” She looked at Lauren. “Finding your son would be a little like … well, I’ve put up a pretty chilly front these past years, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t felt guilty. Finding your boy would kind of make up for … for what I didn’t do.”
Jordan closed his eyes before he rolled them this time, then nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. “But keep in mind that I’m not sure what we’re going to be getting into. We’re not gonna be just sneaking through the dark and peeking around corners. This will be dangerous.”
“Yeah, I know,” Coogan said. “And I’ve got something for that. I’ve got a few things. Come inside and I’ll show you.”
“We’re gonna have to hurry,” Jordan said as Coogan got out of the car.
Before they’d gone to Flash’s earlier, Coogan had gone to the fuse box in the rear of the store and restored the power, so when they went inside, he flicked on a light.
“I’m a Christian,” he said as he led them through the house toward the store, “just like Lizzie. I believe in god and I believe in prayer. But I also believe in being prepared.”
Once in the store, the others watched as Coogan went behind the register, reached under the counter and jerked down hard. There was a sharp ripping sound and Coogan pulled out a handgun with strips of torn packing tape still attached to it.
“A couple years ago,” he said, “some young fella came in here and beat the stuffing outta me for a six-pack of Bud and the cash in the till. So I decided to drag this old souvenir out of the closet just in case it happened again. Army Colt .45. Nice piece of work.” He stuffed it under his belt and motioned for them to follow him.
They went through the living room and down the hall to Coogan’s bedroom, where he knelt and reached under the bed. He removed a rectangular oak wood box, put it on the bed, turned the latch and lifted the lid. Two Colt .22 target pistols rested in molded depressions in the red velvet-lined bottom of the box.
“My wife bought this set for our thirty-eighth wedding anniversary,” he said. “We both enjoyed going out in the woods now and then for a little target practice.” He picked lifted them out gently and held one in each hand. “Personalized walnut grips, his and hers.” He stood and handed one of the pistols to Joan, the other to Lauren. “Probably won’t even have to remember you’ve got ’em. But … just in case.”
“Good idea,” Jordan muttered.
“Now,” Coogan said, pointing a finger at Jordan, “I know you’ve got a gun, but …” He went to his closet and began shuffling around. “I used to have quite a collection, but that’s about all that’s left of it now. But this, this baby …” He chuckled, still searching. “I only used it a couple times, just for the hell of it, shootin’ at the sides of old barns, stuff like that. Mostly, I have it just to have one. I never really—ah, here she is.” He stood and turned slowly, smiling. In one hand, he held a box of shotgun shells, in the other a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun. He emptied the box on the bed, cracked open the gun and slipped two shells into the barrel. “This,” he said to Jordan, “is for Hester Thorne’s bad little boy.”
10.
Hester
walked into the alcove smiling as she looked around. “Looks a bit messy, Benjamin. Has she been a problem?”
Benjamin lowered his hands and stepped away from Lizzie. He grunted noncommittally in response to Hester’s question.
“I thought she might be.” Hester faced Lizzie as she spoke to Benjamin. “Has she been telling you lies, Benjamin? If she’s been speaking, she’s been telling lies. Did she tell you about her god? About Jesus?” She spat the name.
Benjamin frowned.
“I hope you haven’t been listening to her.”
Lizzie said, “At least my god doesn’t condone the killing of children.”
“No. He just sends people to hell when they die.”
“No, he doesn’t, Hester,” Lizzie replied with a gentle smile. “The bible does not say that and you know it. At least, I thought you did. You shouldn’t speak with such authority about something you know nothing about.”
“The same goes for you, Lizzie. You know nothing about what goes on here. And you never will, because you won’t let go of your ignorance.” She stepped closer to Lizzie. “Tell me a little about your friends, Lizzie? Who sent them? What are they doing here? I know a little. I know that Jordan Cross is a private investigator and I know that Marvin Ackroyd is in the electronic surveillance business.”
“Do you know that they found out all about how you killed Reverend Hallway and Edmond Fiske?”
Her eyes narrowed and her cold smile disappeared. “I suspected. I found their little telephone tap.”
“Did you know they found out you’ve been talking with the president?”
Her eyes closed then for a long time. When she opened them, she smiled again and said, “It doesn’t matter. They won’t be leaving Grover.”
“Maybe not. But they know what you’re doing. They know what you’ve sent Mark Schroeder to do. All they need is a telephone.”
Hester moved close to Lizzie, squatted down in front of her and grabbed the material of Lizzie’s dress in her fists, pulling Lizzie’s face close. “What makes you so superior?” she hissed. “What makes your beliefs so much better? People have never been killed in the name of god? People have never been tortured in the name of Christ? Entire wars have been fought for your god! Yet you’re still able to worship the way you please. Why not us?”