1 The Bank of the River

by Michael Richan

  Steven nodded his thanks to Debra. She winked back at him. He turned and walked back to his car, determined to, as John had said, put an end to this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Steven and Roy left early the next morning after an evening of shift-sleeping. Steven did the driving, and Roy kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel, but after twenty minutes on the freeway Roy was out. Steven let him sleep. He navigated the hour and a half drive East of Seattle into the forest. Leavenworth was a small tourist town, decked out in a Bavarian theme, catering to skiers in the winter and shoppers in the summer. The highway that led south from Leavenworth was heavily used by the tourists to return to I-90, but it ran through US forest land, and had little commerce. The small roads that left the highway and wormed their way into the forest were only used by locals. Steven followed John’s directions, taking several turns off one of the roads, and at the final instruction found himself at the end of a long dirt path better suited for an SUV than his Accord. If he had found the correct dirt road, the cabin would be a hundred yards further down a dirt trail to their right. He woke Roy.

  “We’re here?” Roy asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Steven replied. “We’ll have to go down that trail to be sure.”

  Roy held his head as he straightened up in the seat. “Something wrong?” Steven asked.

  “Headache,” Roy said. “Probably slept wrong on the drive up.”

  “Come on,” Steven said, “let’s check out the trail. Maybe they have some aspirin in the cabin.”

  Steven retrieved a backpack from the car that he had loaded with flashlights, oil, bottled water, and the binoculars. The trees were tight in this area, and when he shut the trunk it echoed.

  They walked down the path from the car. It was overgrown in some places, and mostly level.

  “I imagine they have to trim this back every year,” Steven said, maneuvering around small branches.

  “Or not,” replied Roy. “When you have a place like this, you have it because you want to be away from other people. An open, inviting path isn’t considered essential. Or desirable. You’d just as soon no one know you’re here, and you don’t want to see anyone yourself.”

  “Or maybe,” replied Steven, “they just like the woods, and the path grows over every year.”

  Roy stopped, and Steven expected him to say something acerbic. Instead, he reached his arms out, like he had at the first visit to the Victorian mansion, anticipating a fall.

  “You OK?” Steven asked, moving over to him.

  “Dizzy,” Roy said. “Just dizzy.”

  “Let’s wait here for a bit, until you get your bearings. Probably moving too fast after that nap.”

  Roy didn’t object and Steven held onto him as they stood in the path, waiting for Roy to regain his stability. “Look,” Steven said, “that looks like the roof of the place, up ahead.”

  They couldn’t see the whole cabin from where they stood, but it was obvious that it was below them, and the path must wind downward ahead. Steven glanced through the woods in other directions – Roy was right, there was nothing to be seen. No other cabins, cars, or people.

  “Let’s go,” Roy said. “I can walk.”

  “Do you want me to hold onto you?” Steven asked.

  “No,” Roy replied.

  “Well, say something if you feel dizzy again,” Steven said. “We’re a long way from a hospital if you break a leg or a hip.”

  “Hmmpf,” Roy replied.

  Another couple of minutes, and they were standing in front of it. Some of it must have been from the first generation that built it, but many pieces were added on or replaced over the years, and it was a hodgepodge of wood types and materials. The door and door frame were newer, and Steven used the key in it while Roy held himself up against the frame. Steven observed Roy holding his head again. “Let’s see what we can find in here,” he said, entering the cabin.

  It was one room, with an open kitchen in the back, and a single bedroom to the side, with a bathroom off that. Steven rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen looking for something he could give Roy for the headache, but found nothing. He tried the bathroom, which contained only a toilet and a cabinet. In the cabinet he found a bottle of Tylenol. He brought it out for Roy.

  “Here, take a couple of these,” Steven said, pulling a bottle of water from the backpack and handing it to Roy. Roy opened the bottle and downed the medicine. “What now?” he said to Steven.

  “Not sure. You feeling anything?” Steven asked.

  “Just this headache,” Roy replied. “It’s a doozy, too.”

  “Let’s wait until it subsides before we try anything more,” Steven said. Roy sat in a chair, and Steven began looking around the cabin. “It’s likely he didn’t bury him in this cabin,” Steven said. “Wouldn’t want the grandkids to run into him. If he buried him up here, he would have buried him somewhere out there, in the woods, far enough away that no one would find the grave.”

  “Makes sense,” said Roy. “What are we going to do, search the woods?”

  “I guess we’ll have to,” Steven replied.

  “And if we find the grave? What then?”

  “I don’t know. Dig down until we find the body, then use a couple of shotguns on it? No one will hear, out here.”

  “Now who’s gun happy?” Roy said. “How do you know that wasn’t Ben’s approach in the first place? He might be down there riddled with holes already.”

  Steven was getting irritated. “I don’t know. Maybe chop him into pieces.”

  “With what?” Roy asked. “A knife from the kitchen?”

  “Listen, I’m just guessing here, trying to figure it out.”

  “The problem will be,” Roy said, “that as soon as we’ve freed him from the grave, we’ll be vulnerable. We have to have a foolproof way to finish him off. For now, let’s just locate the grave. No digging until we have a plan.” Roy stood.

  “You feeling better?” Steven asked.

  “A little,” Roy replied. “Let’s start.”

  They walked out the front door into the small clearing in front of the cabin.

  “How do we do this?” Steven asked.

  “Same as before,” said Roy. “Let me hold onto your shoulder, you guide.”

  “I think we should start at the cabin, and circle it. Then spiral out.”

  “Fine.”

  Steven led Roy through the route he proposed, widening the spiral by a few feet each time they circled the cabin. Soon they were into the woods and needing to dodge trees, making the progress much slower. By the fifth circle, Steven could tell Roy was slowing down, but then he seemed to get his wind back and they continued on. It happened again on the sixth and seventh circles. On the eighth circuit, Steven stopped when he felt his dad slow.

  “Dad,” Steven said, “you slow down each time we hit this part of the circle. Are you feeling anything?”

  “Just exhausted,” Roy replied.

  “But then you pick back up as we move on. Watch.”

  They kept walking, and Roy did speed up.

  “Do you feel anything?”

  “No, I just get dizzy for a second.”

  “Yeah,” Steven said, “but why each time we’re here? Come over here, Dad. Step right here.” Steven led him back to the point in the circle when he noticed the slow down. “What do you feel now, standing right here?”

  Roy paused. “Dizzy. A little nauseous. Weak.”

  Steven grabbed him by the shoulders and moved him a few paces away. Roy stopped, concentrated. “Better. Not dizzy. Stronger.”

  “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Steven said. He returned to the cabin, and grabbed pieces of firewood that were stacked by the front door. As he walked back to Roy, he placed the logs at the points on the circle where Roy had seemed to falter. He placed the last log on the spot he had just tested with Roy.

  “You’re thinking,” said Roy, “that if I follow that line away from
the cabin, I’ll get sicker and sicker.”

  “Yeah,” replied Steven, “and if you step away from it, you’ll feel better.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Roy said, walking towards the last log, and pointing himself away from the cabin along the trajectory the logs formed.

  Steven followed him, ready to catch him if he fell. “If it gets too bad, please stop and say something.”

  Roy nodded. He took a step, and then another, along the line formed by the logs. Steven watched his face. “How’s it feeling?” Steven asked after they had walked about twenty feet.

  “Definitely not pleasant,” Roy replied.

  “Let’s test it again,” Steven asked. “Step over here.”

  Roy side-stepped the path, following Steven to a spot several paces from the line. “Better,” he said. “Not dizzy. I think you’ve discovered it.”

  “Or something,” Steven said. They returned to the line and continued into the woods, walking another fifty feet. Steven kept his eyes on Roy’s face and feet, looking for any sign of danger.

  “How about now?” Steven asked.

  “I feel like I have the flu,” Roy said. “Very lightheaded. I think…”

  Roy looked like he was going to fall over, and Steven grabbed his arm. Roy buckled and vomited.

  “OK, that’s enough,” Steven said. “We’re going back.”

  -

  Steven brought Roy another bottle of water. “Do you want any more of these?” he asked, shaking the bottle of pills.

  Roy was laying down on the sofa in the main room of the cabin. “No. Just make me sicker. Did you check the expiration date on those?”

  “What did you feel out there?” Steven asked. “Tell me what it was like. Were you being drained?”

  “Not exactly,” Roy answered. “Stronger in some ways, but not the same as back in town with the shadow.” Roy occasionally winced while talking.

  “And how is it now?” Steven asked.

  “A little better,” Roy said.

  “You still look like you’re in pain.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to get any better than this, at least as long as I’m here. I should have brought protection.”

  “What, the potion?” Steven scoffed.

  “Yes,” Roy answered sarcastically, “the potion. I didn’t have time to make any more before we came.”

  “How about some vodka, Dad?” Steven said, lifting a bottle he found on the counter. “That’d probably work just as well.”

  “Maybe,” Roy said, holding his head again. “It is one of the ingredients.”

  Steven put the bottle down, walked over to Roy.

  “I’d like to follow that path, see what I can find,” Steven said. “There’s no way you’re going any further, you’re going to have to stay here. Are you OK if I go check it out?”

  Roy nodded. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Go. But remember, if you find it, do not dig it up until we have a plan.”

  “I won’t,” Steven said. “And I won’t be long. Stay here and rest. But do not sleep.”

  Roy waved him away with his hand. Steven headed out the door, and to the logs.

  -

  It had been several minutes since he had progressed beyond the spot where Roy had gotten sick. He brought several more logs to act as markers. It was easy to lose track of where you were in the forest, and following a straight line was impossible. You always had to go around a fallen log, or tree, or bramble, and then attempt to get back on track. It was still well before noon and if something went wrong he’d have plenty of daylight to find his way back. This is no place to be in the dark, he thought.

  After what seemed like ten more minutes of walking, the ground began to rise, and in several places became steep enough that he had to re-think the trajectory. He hadn’t gone far out of his way when he saw the opening to the cave.

  Steven instinctively knew this was it. He approached the entrance, which was partially hidden by hanging moss and fallen trees. There was a small stream running out of it. He checked his watch – he’d been away from the cabin for twenty minutes – he would spend only a few more in the cave, and see if he could find anything that indicated a grave.

  He stepped into the entrance, watching his footing. He looked for signs that other people had been there, but found none – no discarded beer cans or wrappers. If people came to this cave it was rare. The stream that trickled out of it was small and not more than an inch deep in places. After a few steps the light dropped dramatically and Steven retrieved a flashlight from his backpack.

  The first hundred feet of the cave was not roomy. It was easy enough to keep walking, but the ceiling was only a foot or so above Steven, and claustrophobia began to set in. He looked for graffiti or carvings on the walls but there were none. After another fifty feet the light from outside the entrance wasn’t visible. He felt completely isolated. The pathway continued the same forward as back. He scanned the ground for signs of disturbance or overturned earth, but the surface was smooth on either side of the stream. He continued on.

  It seemed like he walked for another twenty minutes but by his watch it was only five. He was beginning to think he needed to return to his father, make sure he was all right. If he left now, it would take him at least a half hour to get back to the cabin, and Roy would have been alone for almost an hour. What if the old man fell asleep? he thought. Would this proximity to Lukas’s body make his attacks more potent? I shouldn’t have left him.

  Just as he resolved to turn around and begin back, the tunnel opened into a small room that was the size of a large living room. Steven could see a pathway leading out at the other end. There was more water in here, in some places several inches deep. Some of the ground was exposed, and Steven scanned it for signs of a grave. Nothing appeared obvious. What would a grave from fifteen years ago look like in here, now? Steven wondered.

  He followed the stream and another room lay beyond, similar to the one he just left. He examined the ground there too, finding nothing that stood out to him as a grave site. The tunnel continued on into a third room. Here, he was startled to find several animal skeletons. One was large and looked canine, like a wolf.

  God, what if this is a home for wolves or bears? he wondered. Bears were plentiful in this area. He suddenly thought he’d made a huge mistake coming into the cave unarmed. The ground here was more scuffed, and it looked like several holes had been dug, but by animals, not humans. The water from the stream pooled on one side of the room; Steven couldn’t tell how deep it was.

  Enough, he thought. Time to return to Roy. I can always come back. Next time with Roy’s 9mm or a shotgun. He knew his dad had a wide selection of firearms. The smart thing to do was to return home and come back more prepared. Roy could make more of his potion, Steven would remember to bring painkillers, and they’d being plenty of ammo.

  As Steven turned and began to backtrack, the sensation that something was following him overcame him. He stopped, turned, and looked, but nothing was there. He picked up his pace on the way out, now familiar with the terrain, but the faster he walked, the surer he became that an animal was chasing him out. A bear, or a bobcat, or maybe a wolf. The sounds of his steps echoing in the small space of the tunnel helped create the illusion. He turned several times, checking, and each time nothing was there. As he approached the cave entrance he slowed his pace a little, catching his breath. Once outside, he paused and took a swallow from a bottle of water in the backpack. He let his mind calm down, and began the trek back to the cabin. His markers were easy to find and soon he saw the cabin come into view.

  He opened the door to the cabin and stepped inside. “Roy?” he called.

  Roy was not on the sofa. He searched the cabin, calling for him, but he was not in any of the rooms. He walked back outside.

  “Roy!” he called, and waited. No response.

  Now Steven was really worried. I shouldn’t have gone for so long, not while he was feeling bad, he thought. He circled the cabin,
calling. Still no response.

  He knew his father wasn’t along the path to the cave. That left the path to the car. Steven walked back to the cabin and locked the door.

  As he approached the car he could see Roy slumped in the passenger seat. He went to the driver’s side, threw his backpack in the back seat, and turned to check on Roy.

  “What are you doing back here?” Steven asked.

  Roy didn’t respond. His eyes were open, but unresponsive. There was a small trickle of blood coming from his nose. Steven shook him, but Roy didn’t respond. He felt for a pulse – there was one. Roy was breathing.

  “I’ve gotta get you out of here,” Steven said, starting the car, and turning it around. He raced the car back down the dirt road. After a few minutes he reached the main highway and cell reception returned to his phone. He dialed 911.

  “My father has had some kind of stroke,” he said to the operator, “and I’m out in the middle of nowhere, on Highway 97, twenty miles south of Leavenworth. Where’s the closest hospital?”

  “No stroke,” Roy said. “No hospital.”

  As the operator asked him more questions, Steven turned to Roy. “What? Dad, you were catatonic. You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m fine. No hospital,” Roy said, seeming to come back to life with each passing second.

  “What do you mean you’re fine?” Steven asked, ignoring the operator on the other end of his call.

  “I mean,” Roy said, wiping the blood from his nose, “I feel just fine.”

  “I wish I knew if I believed you,” Steven said. “You didn’t look very fine. Hold on a moment, operator,” he said into the phone.