On any other day, the chances of throwing a rock twenty feet up and landing it around a tree just right so that it holds enough for me to climb out would be, like, nil. But on this day, with a creepy talking monster waiting in the wings, I was way more motivated to perfect my pitching arm, which wasn’t bad but wasn’t Roger Clemens’s, either.
As soon as I climbed over the well’s ledge, I started searching for Megan, calling her name, looking all over in the woods. By now it really was dark, and I couldn’t see much. There was no trace of her. I swept the area, over and over again, looking for a footprint, anything.
“Megan!”
I listened but heard nothing. Not so much as a bird calling back. “Megan!”
A flash of red in a shrub caught my eye and I stumbled toward it, going down on my knees, my heart lurching hard, sure for a second that the color was blood, then seeing right away that it was the bandanna she’d been wearing in her hair. Torn, caught in the briars.
No Megan. On the ground, I found her small Maglite. She wouldn’t have left that behind, would she have?
Not unless-
I wouldn’t think about that.
I got to my feet and spun around. `Megan!” No answer. `Megan!” The yellow light from the beam bounced off the ground, the shrubs, the trees, showing me everything but her heart-shaped face. `Megan!”
I ran back toward the well. I didn’t watch where I was going, and my feet tangled in the rope I’d used to pull myself out of that pit. I fell to the ground, the flashlight bouncing out of my grip and spinning away. When it stopped, the circle of light illuminated the rock I had tied on to the end of the rope.
Not a rock at all.
I was half standing when I stopped, my brain taking in what lay three feet away, one horrible detail after another. Something hard and white. Round, smooth. Two small openings, one large, all three staring at me, as if to say-
What are you, a freakin’ idiot? You didn’t realize you attached your rope to a-
Skull.
Oh God. A skull. An honest to God dead man’s head.
I screamed. Let out a string of curses that would have fried my grandmother’s hair. I backed up so fast, I fell on my butt again and scrambled like a crab, the flashlight rolling away into the leaves. I kept going until I hit a tree, and I screamed again because for a second I thought the tree’s branches were the monster reaching out again for me.
Megan gone. Talking monster in the well trying to grab me. And now a dead man’s skull at my feet.
Maybe it was Paolo’s skull?
God no, don’t let that be Paolo. Tell me I didn’t take Paolo’s head and use it as a personal baseball to help me climb out of the well.
Everything in my gut lurched upward. I puked until there was nothing left to heave, and then I heaved air.
“I’m sorry, Paolo,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Paolo’s empty eye sockets stared back at me. I lunged for the flashlight and turned it off. The skull went away, but the night invaded twice as thick and dark. Okay, not a good plan. I flicked the bulb back on, turning the beam away from the skull.
Breathe, Cooper, I told myself. Breathe and think.
I did just that for a good five seconds. It was just a skull. I’d seen them in science class a hundred times. In fact, we had a whole skeleton in Mr. Spinale’s room. Called him Mr. Body, dressed him up for Halloween, threw a red hat on him for Christmas. That’s all this was, another Mr. Body.
Yeah, one that might be someone I knew. One that had been eaten by the monster. That could be me next. Or worse-
Megan.
I breathed some more. Refocused again. Beside me, Megan’s bandanna sat in a tiny, sad, crumpled pile. I stuffed it into my backpack and headed out of the woods. She wasn’t here, or if she was, I couldn’t find her.
Something had happened to Megan. I knew it.
I booked it for the house, sneaking into the basement, thanking God for small favors like an unlocked basement door and a phone extension in the second office on the lower level. My fingers shook so badly, it took three tries before I got Megan’s number punched into the handset. In the space of the few seconds it took for the phone to ring on the other end, I must have whispered four hundred prayers. “Mrs. Garrett, this is Cooper-“
“Cooper!” Her voice. Panicked. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized hours had gone by while I’d been searching.
It was after eleven o’clock at night. No wonder she had that tone.
“Thank God you called me back,” Mrs. Garrett said. “I’ve been calling your house all night. Have you seen Megan?”
Megan hadn’t gone home. Hope deflated in me like a popped balloon.
I couldn’t tell Mrs. Garrett the truth. One, she’d never believe me, and two, I’d be in serious trouble. I had to buy time until I had some answers.
“She and I went for a walk after dinner,” I said-not a total lie-“and then she said she was going to go back home. I think that was around … six.” That, I thought, was about the time the rope fell into the well.
Guilt pulled a Rocky in my gut. What had I done? What had I been thinking? I did this. I asked for Megan’s help. And now she was missing.
“She’s always home by ten on a school night, always,” Mrs. Garrett went on, “and she never called, never came home.” The last three words were high-pitched, every parent’s worst nightmare.
I hated myself for being responsible for that sound in Mrs. Garrett’s voice. But what was I going to tell her?
I didn’t know what had happened, not really. Megan could be okay. She could, in fact, be out looking for me right now. Except a part of me knew Megan’s disappearance was wrapped up inside the creature and the well.
I leaned against the wall, my head pounding. All I kept seeing was that skull, then Megan’s face, her trusting eyes, so ready to help me.
God, what if that monster did have her?
I pictured it breathing down her neck, its slime all over Megan’s peach-soft skin, and I wanted to puke but couldn’t. There was nothing inside me. Nothing but fear.
“Call us if you see her,” Mrs. Garrett said, her voice shaking, tears heavy in her words. “Or hear from her. This isn’t like Megan at all. In fact, as soon as I hang up with you, I’m going to call the police.”
“I will, Mrs. Garrett.” I hung up the phone, then slid down against the desk and dropped my head onto my knees. Oh God.
Megan, Megan, Megan.
What had I just done?
Had I just sent Megan to-
Her death?
They hung up colored posters with Megan’s picture, organized search parties, sent cops crawling through town, and had reporters talking to everyone from the mailman to Megan’s third grade teacher, people popping out opinions like Pez.
I was dragged down to the police station early Monday morning, hours after the missing-persons report was filed. Held there for six hours and questioned by Mike’s dad, the cop assigned to the case. He slammed his hand on the metal table so hard, I thought he was going to leave a dent or break a bone. “I know you did it, Cooper. I know you killed her. Just admit it and we can all go home.”
“I didn’t do anything.” I glared at Sergeant Ring, a balding guy in his late fifties whose belt wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping his gut in check.
Guilt twisted a tightening rope around my intestines. Had I killed her? Had I led her to that thing and let it eat her, like it had Paolo? Had I done this?
That’s all I kept thinking about, all that kept running through my mind.
Oh God, Megan.
“Tell me where she went,” Sergeant Ring said.
“I don’t know, I told you.”
“Bullshit.” Sergeant Ring leaned forward, shifting his belt under his gut, as if the donuts got top priority. His breath reeked of stale beer; his eyes were red and bleary. Even I recognized the hangover in him. “I know you’re dating her. That makes you bad guy number one. Maybe I should lo
ck you up.”
“Not a chance. I watch CSI and Law & Order,” I said, ready to be out of there so I could look for Megan myself. I couldn’t trust these guys. For one, Ring was a total alcoholic. He could barely raise his own kid and crashed his car into his front porch last summer. Why would I think he could find Megan? For another, the whole well-and-creature story was completely unbelievable-and at this point, I didn’t even know for sure that’s what was responsible.
But since she’d been gone, there had been no slime and no calling from the well-and to be honest, that was more worrisome than this cop’s threats. “You can’t hold me without a good reason. And all you have is guesses about nothing.”
Sergeant Ring leaned in even closer, so close I could tell he needed a Mento as much as he needed a bigger belt. “I’ll give you nothing, punk. Tell me where she is.”
The door opened, and a young, skinny cop walked in, like a “before” picture of Mike’s dad. “His parents are back. This time with their lawyer.”
Sergeant Ring cursed. Foiled again by the ambulance chasers. “I’ll be watching you,” he said, wagging a finger in my face, “wherever you go, whatever you do. You forget to tie your shoelace in gym, I’ll be taking pictures. You order an extra milk at lunch and forget to pay for it, I’ll arrest you for stealing. I’m going to be your new best friend, Cooper.”
I had fifty smart remarks I could have sent back but didn’t. This guy thought I’d killed my girlfriend or, at the very least, helped her run away. If I talked back, he’d keep me longer. All I wanted was to go look for Megan. I knew exactly where to start my search.
All these hours, the well had been silent.
Why?
Was I too far away? Or was the creature busy with Megan?
Or-and this was the option I prayed for more than anything-had I wounded the beast so badly that it was dying in some crusty corner and thus was unable to do anything but moan and shrivel away?
When I got out of the room, the lawyer kept asking me if I’d said anything. StepScrooge Sam just glared at me, as if I’d ruined his whole day. I probably had. Whatever.
My mother stood next to Sam, very quiet. Mad? Wishing I was heading off to juvie? I couldn’t tell. She said one word total-“Here?”-when they told her to sign some paper so I could be released. That was it.
The lawyer walked us out, said goodbye on the steps, and told us he’d be in touch later, and the three of us headed off to the car.
Like a big happy family.
Or a Photoshopped image of one, anyway.
No one said anything until the car was in gear and StepScrooge Sam had it cruising to about forty. “Where the hell is Megan?”
“If I knew, would I be here?” I slammed back against the rear seat and wished he’d shut the hell up.
“Watch your tone, young man,” Sam said, his voice so low, it could have been a Doberman’s growl. “Do you know what that vampire attorney is costing me? Just to keep your ass out of jail? Show your gratitude.”
I bit my lip. I did a lot of that whenever I was around Sam. Lucky Faulkner-the older one, only a year away from college.
“Some cops came to the house when you were being questioned,” Sam informed me. “They wanted to search the grounds. I told them to get the hell off my property.”
“Why did you do that?” I asked, alarmed.
“They didn’t have a warrant, Cooper,” Sam snapped. “Don’t you know better than to let the police in without a warrant?”
I did know that-of course I did. But part of me hoped that someone other than me, with the means to help Megan, would find her. And that couldn’t happen if StepScrooge Sam wouldn’t even let anyone search the property.
“Besides,” Sam said, “it’s not like they would find anything, right?” He seemed to be challenging me to disagree with him.
But I couldn’t. After a full day of protesting my innocence, I was too tired to fight with Sam. “Right,” I said weakly.
“When we get home, I have a list of things waiting for you to do. There are consequences to your behavior, Cooper. And your attitude.”
After what I’d just been through, what did he expect me to be, all sunshine and smiles?
“And if you step out of line,” Sam continued, “there will be rule enforcement.”
I knew what that meant. It was code, understood between just him and me, for privilege yanking. The last time I’d “stepped out of line,” which to Sam was going to a party without permission, I’d spent three days in my room.
Ate my meals in my room.
Did my homework in my room.
Never left it, except to go to school and to piss.
And when the three days were over, Sam left me a note. A detailed list of yard chores involving shovels and rakescrap they’d do on a chain gang-keeping me busy for another three days.
“Are you hearing me, Cooper?” Sam asked now.
“Yeah.”
My mother sat in the passenger’s seat, stiff as a mannequin, silent. What had happened to her? Not just with the whole trying-to-kill-me thing, but to her in general? She used to be the mom who would rush in and soothe the waters whenever my brother or I had a bad day or crappy report card. Try to make everyone happy with a joke or a silly song or a package of cookies. Now she’d become about as warm and fuzzy as one of those Easter Island stone dudes.
“When you get home, Cooper. No delays,” Sam said.
In the rearview mirror, I saw cold, hard eyes that were looking at the road and not at me. “Dude, the cops just verbally pounded me. My girlfriend is missing. I’ve had a really shitty day. And you want me to do my chores?”
Sam braked so hard, my head almost popped off. “Just because you’ve had a bad day does not mean you can do whatever the hell you want. I work hard to keep this family together and the last thing I need is for you to pull this crap.” Sam stared at the steering wheel in front of him as if he were trying to burn a hole through it. “Do you understand?”
“Jeez, fine, whatever. Take a chill pill.” Whatever it took to keep Sam happy, that’s what I was going to say. I wanted him to get the car moving again, get me back to the house. Faulkner and I had one cardinal rule-Don’t Piss Sam Off. Break it, and your life sucked. Considering my life already sucked as bad as it could right now, I wasn’t about to make things worse.
Besides, I was yessing Sam only to shut him up. As soon as I escaped the four-door prison of his Beamer, screw the chore list-I was going to go looking for Megan.
Finally, Sam swung into our driveway, still yakking about chores. I said yeah about sixty times, hopped out of the car, and tried to run inside, but Sam blocked my way. “What did I say?” His eyes glittered in the porch light.
“Chores.”
“Priorities, Cooper. Priorities.”
My mother had already gone inside. It was just me and Sam. “Finding my girlfriend is my only priority.”
“She’ll be fine.”
Why was he so convinced? Did he know something I didn’t? Suspicion mounted inside me, but I didn’t dare question him. I knew what kind of punishment Sam would ex act, and I didn’t need that right now. I needed freedom, and pissing him off wouldn’t give me a pass.
Sam closed in tighter. “You are only thinking about yourself and your little world. You don’t know a damned thing about sacrifice, do you?”
“Uh, no.” Was that the answer he wanted?
“I’ve spent my life building this business. My practice. I’ve put everything I have into all of this.” He waved at the house, the massive testament to Jumel success he’d built a few years ago in place of the old stone house that used to be there. “And you are not going to ruin it, Cooper. Do you understand me?”
Did he know what was going on in this house? In the woods? Was he choosing to ignore it all? Or was he part of it? I tried to look in his eyes and see some kind of answer, but all I saw was annoyance.
I nodded again. What the hell did Sam have against me?
�
�You are going to do your part for this family, Cooper.” He jabbed a finger at my chest, sharp and hard. “And you aren’t going to screw it up, is that clear, Cooper? I’m tired of your shit.”
“I’m not doing anything. I just want to find Megan.”
“Let the cops handle that. You have other priorities.” Sam’s finger became a knife, sinking deeper into my chest, hurting. “You better remember them, because all you’ve done lately is make everything around here worse.”
“Don’t blame me for your problems.” I jerked back, away from him. “You’re not my father.”
A smile spread across Sam’s face, the smile that I hated, the one I wanted to smack off his lips. But if I did that, I knew I’d bring an even bigger can of crap into my life. Sam had a way of making things more miserable than anyone could stand by taking away privileges and doling them out in dribbles. “Oh, Cooper, I’m something so much better than your father. I don’t bury my nose in books and lose myself in ancient, dead poets. I’m not some wimp who can’t get out of the way of my chalkboard and claim my place at the head of my family. I’m a man, Cooper, unlike your father, which means I take control and I keep it.”
I backed up another step. I’d hated Sam since the day my mother introduced him to us, but now I despised him. He’d never dissed my father like this before. “Watch what you say about my father.”
“He’s not here. And I am.” Sam chuckled. “And so are you. Stuck together, aren’t we? For better or worse, our little family.”
“You’re not my family.” I spun toward the steps. Sam grabbed my arm.
“I’m more of a father to you than your father will ever be.” He dipped his face in so close to mine, I saw the hairs inside his nose. “And don’t you forget it.”
Sometimes at night, he could still hear his brother’s voice.
The screaming. The cries.
But most of all, the screaming.
Auguste curled into the corner and pressed his fingers into his ears, trying to block out sounds that were two centuries old, that no longer existed in this world, only in his head. Yet he could hear them as if it were yesterday, as if Gerard were here again.
I have no choice, Auguste. No choice.
The Well Page 11