by Mae Clair
Crouching beneath the shelter of a maple, she tried to make herself smaller. In the moonless dark, it was impossible to tell the vehicle’s true color. Dark blue? Green? Work van or not, there was no reason for anyone to be out in the middle of the night, surveying the empty road in front of her house. Her nearest neighbor lived around a bend, and the closest streetlamp was too far away to shed much light.
She bit her lip, mentally berating herself for getting trapped in a vulnerable position. If she dashed into the house and called for assistance, how quickly would a deputy respond?
Two seconds later, the van rolled to a complete stop. Still a good distance away, it squatted in the street, a plain square box with blazing eyes.
Waiting.
Katie counted to five. The wind tugged at her jacket, swirling beneath her collar. Abruptly, the van’s lights flicked off, plunging her into stifling darkness. Starlight barely defined the vehicle, the low rumble of the motor ominously loud in the stillness. She inhaled sharply, one hand pressed to the rough bark of the tree.
Go away. Go away.
The driver’s side door opened, the interior light briefly defining the shape of a man. The door clicked shut and the light winked out as a form stepped from the vehicle.
Every nerve in her body tensed for flight. If he advanced, she’d flee and lead the stranger from the house and Sam. Her only weapon was a flashlight, her neighbors too far away to hear her scream.
Her mouth was dry, her palms damp. A low-level hum washed over her. Faint at first, it swelled to an earsplitting cacophony. Something thumped across the shingles. Whomp! Whomp! Whomp!
Katie gasped, craning her neck to spy the source. An enormous shape swooped from the roof, a rapid-flash glimpse of something winged and gray. An otherworldly screech pierced the air, and in that quicksilver burst of time, terror engulfed her. A loud drone built in her head, threatening to burst her eardrums. Her knees quaked as the punishing flood of terror ratcheted higher, choking off all thought, all instinct. Sprawling face-first onto the grass, she covered her head with both arms.
Go away. Go away.
Paralyzed by fear, she prayed the thing wouldn’t see her.
The sudden squeal of tires sliced through her panic, wrenching her back to the present. Burning rubber and exhaust filled her nose. Blindly, she groped for the flashlight. She clamored to her feet in time to see the red-eyed wink of taillights disappear around the bend. The humming dwindled, then died altogether. Whatever she’d seen leap from the roof—whatever she thought she’d seen—was gone. Weak-kneed and shaken, she raced for the house.
“Sam, it’s me.” Her fingers closed around the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip. “Open up. Let me in!” Away from that thing.
Sam unlocked the door and hastily stumbled backward. Katie wasted no time in locking the barrier behind her. Her son’s face was white.
“Mom?” His voice quavered.
Try as she may to conceal the terror firing along her nerves, Katie knew it was evident on her face. She’d only caught a glimpse of the creature, but that fleeting second had been more than enough.
“It’s going to be okay, Sam.” She hugged him close. With one arm looped around his back, she snatched the phone from the end table and used her thumb to dial the sheriff’s office.
“Hello, this is Katie Lynch.” Her voice tumbled out in a breathless rush before the officer even finished speaking. “Please send someone to my house on Red Hollow Road. I’ve just seen the Mothman.”
* * * *
Ryan discovered the news the following morning when a junior officer told him about Katie’s late night call. Anxious to visit and learn the details himself, he hurried through a stack of paperwork.
An hour later, he fidgeted from foot to foot on her front porch, waiting for her to answer the doorbell.
“Ryan.” She seemed surprised to find him there. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, and her blond hair was scooped back in a messy ponytail. She wore a pale blue robe with flannel pajamas.
“Hi.” He fought the urge to wrap his arms around her. “I, uh, heard what happened last night. Can I come in?”
She nodded and stepped aside. In bare feet, she was considerably shorter than he was.
“Sam still sleeping?”
Another nod, accompanied by a soft sniffle. “He was up late. We both were.”
Ryan was at a loss. “Want to tell me what happened?”
Her gaze met his. Whether in gratitude or petition, he wasn’t certain.
“Let me change and I’ll make coffee.”
Later, seated at the kitchen table, Katie relayed her story. In the short span it had taken her to change into jeans and a sweater, her composure had returned. Ryan listened without interruption, perhaps the wrong course to take given the censure that crossed her face when she was through.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Katie.” He took her hand. “I do believe you. Are you forgetting Caden’s seen the Mothman several times? He’s got scars branded across his forearm from that thing’s grip.” Gently, he traced his thumb over her knuckles, hoping to put her at ease. “The important thing is it didn’t hurt you.”
“I know.” Her tone softened. “But I worry about Sam. He’s already having nightmares. What if it comes back?”
“That’s not likely.” Everything he knew about the Mothman indicated the creature was solitary, preferring the remote acres of the TNT. Several months had passed since the last flurry of Mothman sightings. Before that, the monster had lain low for a span of almost fifteen years.
“I don’t think you need to worry.” The statement was a shot in the dark, but Caden would tell him if there was something to be concerned about. Not for the first time, Ryan wished he better understood his brother’s connection to the cryptid, but that inexplicable bond was something Caden avoided discussing.
Ryan shoved his coffee aside. “I’m more worried about the van. I wish you’d gotten a better look at it.”
“I know.” Katie bit her lip, anxiety crossing her face. “It was too dark to see. It might have been green or blue. Even black or dark gray. It was hard to tell.”
“And you’ve never seen it around before?”
She shook her head, glancing briefly at her hands. When she looked at him, her gaze was clear. “Ryan, do you think there’s something odd going on?”
Confused by the question, he hesitated. Afternoon sunlight streamed through an adjacent window, herald of a gorgeous autumn day. Sitting in Katie’s cheerful kitchen with its whitewashed maple cupboards and ivy wallpaper, it was hard to imagine anything remotely sinister had lingered outside during the night.
“What do you mean?”
“Everything that’s happened lately.” She studied him closely. “Think about it. Jerome…the mysterious deputy no one seems to know about…Rex and those other animals disappearing…all the strange lights in the sky.”
He’d never been one to embrace flights of fancy. “Fanned by a lot of gossip and speculation.”
“Ryan, be serious.”
“I am.” The last thing he wanted to do was feed her fears. “Animals disappear. That’s part of life in a rural community. As for the lights, a lot of those were sighted near the airport. Factor in the Air Force bases up and down the east coast, and you’ve got opportunity for unusual lights in the sky.”
Her gaze sharpened with a defiant edge. “What about Deputy Brown?”
“I don’t know.” Realizing he fought a losing battle, Ryan sighed. “Look, Katie, all I’m saying is that it’s easy to jump to the wrong conclusion. You should have seen Jerome’s place when Caden and I were there. It’s filled with conspiracy stuff. UFOs, the Mothman…things I never even heard of. Look at this.” Twisting, he reached into the pocket of his jacket slung over the back of the chair. He’d taken Jerome’s battered paperback copy of UFO Sightings and Stories on a whim, thinking he might be able to help the man if he could get
inside his head. But the book was a farfetched collection of tales and speculation that made Parker Kline seem sane.
“This is the kind of stuff I’m talking about.” Ryan passed her the book. “I only flipped through it, but it’s crazy. People swearing they’ve seen UFOs or monsters, believing in other dimensions and interplanetary travel. I like Star Wars as much as the next guy, but this shit, uh—crap—is seriously flawed.”
Katie paused in examining the book, running her finger down a page. “It looks like Jerome made a lot of notations in the margins.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to think the guy is more out there than anyone realized.”
“Can I keep this?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Placing the paperback on the table, she picked up her coffee. “It might sound silly, but I feel close to Jerome since trying to help him that night. If this”—she motioned to the book—“was important to him, I’d like to glance through it.”
Ryan didn’t care about Katie’s interest in speculative hogwash, but her attachment to Jerome bothered him. A squiggle of emotion strangely like jealousy made his reply clipped. “Whatever. Just don’t go getting crazy ideas about little green men and flying saucers.”
“Don’t poke fun.”
“I’m not.” But, of course, he was. Being condescending, even arrogant, and all because of Jerome. The guy was on the scrawny side and socially inept. Could Katie be interested in someone like that, or was she simply responding with kindness for a friend in trouble? If he didn’t get off the fence soon, he’d never know. “Look, I didn’t mean to ridicule, but whoever was driving that van last night was flesh and blood, not an extraterrestrial.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Then you do think it was someone watching the house?”
He didn’t want to scare her but at the same time wanted to be truthful. “Let’s put it this way. I don’t think it was anyone out for a nighttime drive or looking for directions.”
She paled. “And the Mothman?” Her voice trembled as she said the name.
The million-dollar question. Which, as always, lacked an answer.
Standing, Ryan picked up his jacket. “Keep the book. I’m going to talk to Caden. It’s time I find out exactly what my brother’s connection is to that winged freak.”
* * * *
The Mothman knows.
Caden took a swig of beer, mentally recounting Parker Kline’s parting words. Sunday afternoon and he was camped on Eve’s sofa, the Pittsburgh Steelers and Baltimore Colts running plays on her console TV. The last he’d looked it was nearing halftime, Pittsburgh leading ten to six.
The smell of baking lasagna wafted from the kitchen where Eve was busy tossing a salad. They’d made the pasta together, but she’d shooed him into the living room afterward, telling him to enjoy the game. Any other time he would have been eager to cheer on Terry Bradshaw or lament a bad call by one of the refs, but he couldn’t focus. His mind kept drifting back to Parker and his weird tidbits of information.
Why bring up the Mothman? And what about the other thing he’d said?
Cold must return. Evening will follow.
What the hell did that mean? There was no question the kid’s mind was broken, yet Jerome had gone to see him for something.
Exhaling, Caden scrubbed a hand over his face. With a rare day off, he shouldn’t be worrying over a UFO fanatic laid up in the hospital. But despite all his eccentric behavior, Jerome was a decent guy. No one deserved to spend their life in a coma, and right now, it didn’t seem like he was going to come out of it.
Caden took another swig of beer. The phone rang and Eve yelled from the kitchen that she would answer. The house was hers, but he’d moved in two weeks ago—right after he’d bought a ring in contemplation of asking her to marry him. He still hadn’t found the right time to propose, the diamond niggling at the back of his mind.
Five minutes later as the Colts were punting, Eve strolled into the room, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, a glass of wine in hand. “That was Sarah.” She sat in the chair adjacent to him. Perched on the edge, she was obviously keyed up about something. “Her mom just left Martin’s gas station after getting a fill up.”
“That’s news.” He kept the amusement in his voice to a minimum, knowing Sarah’s mother liked to gossip.
“No, no. While she was there, Mrs. Sherman saw Doreen Sue, and Doreen Sue was a wreck.” Eve sipped her wine, staring intently at a spot on the floor as if trying to work through a dilemma. “I wonder if I should call Katie.”
“Because Doreen Sue’s upset about something?”
“No.” Eve’s gaze flashed to his face. “Because according to Mrs. Sherman, Doreen Sue saw Lyle buying cigarettes from the vending machine.”
“Lyle?” Caden knew the name should prompt a memory, but his thoughts were wrapped up in Parker, diamonds, and the last forty-five seconds of the half.
“Lyle Mason. Katie’s ex.”
“Oh.” Now he understood. He’d gone to high school with Lyle and his sister, Lottie. A year older, Lyle had been forced to repeat tenth grade, placing him in the same classes as Lottie and Caden. During their senior year, Lottie had died tragically in a fall from a balcony. Never social to begin with, Lyle withdrew, turning increasingly bitter. It was hard to imagine how Katie had ended up in a relationship with such a downer of a guy.
“Katie should know.” Eve’s glance was sharp, as if she sought approval.
“Isn’t Sarah going to tell her?”
“She thinks I should.”
Caden drank his beer, hoping he could stay out of it. Why did women feel the need to get involved? On the TV, the game had been replaced with a commercial of Didi Conn pandering the crispiness of Tostitos. He could use some right about now. “I’m sure Doreen Sue’s going to tell her.”
Eve digested the thought for all of five seconds. “I think I should.”
Thankfully, the doorbell chimed, saving him from committing one way or another. Somehow it didn’t surprise him to find Ryan on the threshold when Eve answered. His brother wandered into the room, declining the offer of a beer from Eve, then dropping to a seat in an easy chair.
“How’s the game?” he asked.
“Halftime,” Caden supplied. “Steelers are winning.”
Ryan nodded, looking distracted. “Smells good in here.”
“We made lasagna.” Eve appeared at his side. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
“Thanks, but I just dropped by to talk to Caden about something.”
“You mean about Lyle?”
Ryan stared blankly. “Lyle?”
“Mason.” Caden shook his head, deciding Parker Kline would have to wait. “Apparently, Lyle Mason, Katie’s ex, is back in town.”
“Sonofabitch.” Ryan stood, smacking his fist into his palm. “That explains the van.”
“What van?” Eve asked.
“Some jerk in a panel van staked out Katie’s house last night. The guy gave her a scare.”
“Oh, no. Is she all right?”
“Yeah, I just left there. She’s fine, but a little shaken. Why don’t you call and check in? Tell her about Lyle.”
“I will.” Plainly worried, Eve dashed toward the kitchen and the phone.
Scowling, Caden eyed his brother. “I know you. You got her out of the room for a reason. What is it?”
“You’re right.” Ryan slid into the seat Eve had vacated. “I don’t like the idea of Lyle back in town, and if that was him snooping around Katie’s place last night, he’s going to hear from me. But that’s not why I’m here.”
Caden swallowed the last of his beer and set the bottle aside. He had a feeling the day was about to take a downturn. “I figured that.”
Ryan leaned forward, locking his fingers between his knees. “Last night at Katie’s, something scared the guy in the van away before he could cause any trouble. Something that terrified her.”
C
aden stayed silent, certain where his brother was leading. Let Ryan drag the creature up if he wanted, but he had no intention of getting involved.
“You know what was there,” his brother said.
“I’m glad she’s safe.”
“Damn it, Caden, it’s back. You and I have both heard rumors of the Mothman over the last couple days, but Katie’s a reliable witness.”
“I never said she wasn’t.”
“Then do something.”
“Like what?”
“Find out what the damn thing wants. It’s connected with you in some freakish way. It’s bad enough Lyle crawled back into town, but I don’t want to have to worry about Katie turning into another Hank Jeffries. The thing scared her witless.”
“You told me it saved her. Chased Mason, or whoever it was, away.”
“That doesn’t matter. I don’t want it going back there.” Suddenly Ryan was an expert on the Mothman.
“And you think I can change that?”
“You’ve seen it up close. Hell, it saved your life more than once. If anyone has a chance of communicating with the thing, you’re the best shot.”
Caden glanced away. The feelings dredged up by the Mothman were not ones he wanted to remember. “I’ll think about it.” Ironic his brother had gone from not believing the creature existed a few months ago to suggesting he seek it out.
“Caden, I need you to do this.” Ryan stared at him levelly, his tone grave.
“I said I’d think about it.” In fairness, his brother didn’t understand how vulnerable he was when he opened his mind to the Mothman. Exposed to a deluge of fatigue and despair. It was almost like the damn monster wanted to die. Problem was, there were too many glory mongers and curiosity seekers who’d gladly help it achieve that goal.
Caden stood. “I need another beer.”
“What about the Mothman?”
“It’s Sunday and I’m watching the game. I told you’d I’d think about it. That’s the best I can do right now.”
Ryan swore softly.
“You want a beer?” Caden asked.