by Brian Hodge
“Lynette, is the picture on your television usually half-scrambled?”
She shook her head without looking at him. “No. It’s quite clear. Why?”
He nodded to himself, unsurprised. “I’ve seen that tower again,” he said, and both women’s attention now turned to him. He described the scene on the television. “The odd thing was that it didn’t look like a story on the news. It seemed more like a closed-circuit image.”
Lynette shuddered visibly. “I had thought it was a nightmare. I wish to God it was.”
Before he could say anything else, the rumble of tires on the road drew their eyes to the front of the house; a moment later, a white Buick LeSabre cruised slowly into view, obviously intending to stop. At first, Copeland did not recognize the driver, but then he realized it was Debra’s father, Glenn Martin. The Buick went past Lynette’s house and pulled into the driveway next door.
Debra rose from her seat and gave Lynette a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I’ll come back in a little while,” she said. “I doubt Dad will be here very long.” As she left, she turned briefly and gave Copeland a warm smile. Suddenly, nothing seemed quite as bleak as it had moments before.
“I’m worried about her,” Lynette said, somewhat to his surprise. “She doesn’t let on, but with everything that’s happening here, it’s Levi Barrow she’s most afraid of.”
He nodded. “I’m sure there’s more to his interest in her than getting bent out of shape over his kid.”
“That’s just his excuse. He’s stalking her, Russ. The other day was not the first time he’s come around. But if she goes to the sheriff, he’ll find a way to make it appear her fault.”
“As witnesses, we could make that difficult for him.”
Lynette shook her head. “It wouldn’t make any difference. But there is one other possibility. Her father. The Barrows apparently hold him in some regard.”
Copeland raised an eyebrow. “Why would that be?”
“Years ago, Major Martin and Levi’s father served together in the army. There is some tie between them.”
“Major Martin, is it?”
“Everyone’s called him that for years. It fits.”
“Well, in my book, stalking a man’s daughter is no great gesture of respect. If you’re saying that we should alert him to what’s going on, I agree with you. You work with him; how well do you know him?”
“Pretty well. He’s soft-spoken, but very firm. I know for a fact he’s not the kind of man to take an offense lying down.”
“Well, there you are. You want me to try to catch him on his way out? Or would that upset Debra?”
“She’d never talk to him about it on her own, and she might shoot me for going behind her back. But I’m worried, Russ. I consider her safety the most important thing.” She went silent for a moment. “Our relationship can be patched, if it comes down to it. The alternative might not be so easy.”
“I have less to lose, relationship-wise, than you do. If she’s going to be angry, let her be angry with me. I can talk to him.”
She half snickered. “Very noble of you, dear brother, but I know them both much better than you. No, I’ll talk to him in my own way. Besides, given how you feel about her, I would hate to see a blowout between you so early in the game.”
“What do you know how I feel? I’ve known the woman for two days.”
“You have that same look in your eyes you had when you were fifteen. Amy Carlisle, wasn’t it? And when you first met your ex, Megan. You’re hardly a closed book, Mr. Copeland.”
He couldn’t keep from chuckling, but then he said in a somber tone, “All that’s well and good, but compared to what we’ve all seen in the last 24 hours, I’m not sure our personal feelings mean very much. Who knows what’s going to happen by tomorrow? And I can’t even make a phone call out of town.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said with a sigh, her eyes turning briefly inward to focus on the memories of her son. “But whatever’s happening, it can’t put a stop to our lives. We can’t just throw up our hands and surrender to something we don’t understand. At least Levi Barrow I understand. He’s an immoral, potentially violent, dangerously clever piece of walking garbage. Lord forgive me, but if he were to get run over by truck, I’d give the driver a hug.”
“Let’s put it this way,” he said. “As long as I’m here, he will live to regret any trouble he causes. But let me tell you—and not because of Levi Barrow—I’m on the verge of getting us in the car and seeing what happens on the road. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that.”
For the first time, Lynette’s eyes widened with obvious fear. “No. Don’t you even think of that. After what you said you saw out there…and what I know I saw…it sounds like suicide.”
“We have no way of knowing that.”
“Russ, for now, we’re all still here. If anything, I think we should try to get people in town together, to find out what others have seen, what they might know. We could get the people at the church together. In times of trouble, they are the ones I want on my side. It would at least be a step. A better one than some ill-conceived attempt to run away.”
Copeland pondered the idea and found himself liking it. “All right. I’m inclined to agree with you. Anyway, I would never run out on you. You know that.”
She nodded. “As a community, we might be able to keep something like what happened…to Rodney…from happening to anyone else.”
“A worthy goal,” he said. Then, as he downed the last of his scotch, he heard a car engine start; a moment later, Glenn Martin’s Buick backed out of Debra’s driveway and turned in the direction of town. It had just passed beyond the neighboring trees when Copeland heard a low, clattering rumble, which gradually grew louder. After a few seconds, a familiar-looking, rusted red Chevy pickup drove past, evidently in slow pursuit of Major Martin.
“Jesus Christ,” Copeland muttered. Without another word, he set his glass down on the table next to Lynette and rushed outside, heading for Debra’s house. When he reached her door, he knocked sharply, then slowly pushed it open and called her name.
She did not answer, so he stepped inside, briefly listening to the hollow silence of her house, taking in its sweet, cedar-like smell, its warm, distinctly feminine ambiance. To the right, an archway opened to a cozy living room; to the left, another arch revealed a quaintly furnished dining room, its dark, hardwood table and china cabinet abundantly arrayed with silver. A beige carpeted stairway led to the second floor, and he started up, guessing he would find her in an upstairs bedroom. Halfway up, he called, “Debra?”
He finally heard a movement—a low creak of springs—and what sounded like a little sigh. Finally, her voice drifted down the upstairs hall: “Is that you, Russ?”
“Yes. Are you all right?”
At the top of the stairs, through an open door, he saw her framed against the dimly glowing sheer drapes of the window, sitting desultorily on her bed. “I’m all right.”
“Sorry for barging in, but…I had to talk to you.”
She looked up as he stepped inside, and her eyes were red. “What’s the matter?”
“As your father left, Levi Barrow came down the road, apparently following him. Debra, I know that he’s stalking you. Tell me what you know about that man.”
She turned her eyes to the ceiling, obviously distraught. “God. Dad came here afraid for me.”
“Because of Levi?”
She nodded. “He even said I should come back and stay with him and Mom, but I didn’t want to go. What was I thinking? I should have considered the possibility that they could be in danger.” She reached for the phone on the nightstand at the head of the bed, put it to her ear, and then held it out to Russ. “The phone is dead. I should have just listened to Dad.” She disgustedly dropped the receiver back into its cradle.
He sat down beside her; she did not move away from him. “Debra, I want you to tell me what’s going on. You obviously know more than you have le
t on. Before, you didn’t think Levi Barrow was dangerous. That has apparently changed.”
Her face turned grim. “I know one thing. If he threatens my parents in any way, Levi is the one who’d better watch out. Dad doesn’t take kindly to bullshit, even from the Barrows.”
“I understand your dad and Levi’s were in the army together. What about that?”
Debra shook her head. “I don’t really know much. Only that Samuel Barrow was killed in Vietnam and Dad helped the family out afterward—financially, I guess. He’s never said as much, but I’ve always thought he must have felt responsible in some way. When I was a child, he went back to Vietnam a few times, even after he retired from the military. Ever since, the Barrows have always treated him with some deference, more so than most. But things have changed in the last year or so, at least with Levi. He’s intentionally antagonized my father. And as you saw, he’s been trying to…get close to me.” She stiffened noticeably.
“So it is more than him getting bent out of shape over some perceived ‘mistreatment’ of his kid.”
She nodded. “What galls me is that Levi apparently put Malachi up to provoking me, just so he would have an excuse to ‘meet’ me. Dad managed to get that much out of Malachi during the last episode at school—right before Rodney’s death. Before you came. I guess Dad has been keeping tabs on the Barrows for all these years. I think he’s been worried that something like this might happen.”
“Your dad’s a shrewd man. I wonder what really happened between him and Samuel Barrow. Did they know each other before the war?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Your mom and dad aren’t originally from here, are they?”
She shook her head. “Huntington.”
“So your dad came here, to the Barrows’ hometown, after Samuel was killed. Interesting.”
“All this happened before I was born. Until recently, none of this meant anything to me at all.”
“There’s some connection between this and what’s happening around here. I’m sure of it.” Copeland bit his lip. “Do you think you could get your dad to open up on the subject?”
She shrugged. “He’s more than close-mouthed about his past. If he hadn’t been so worried about me, he wouldn’t have even told me what he did about Levi.”
“Communication in your family seems to be on a need-to-know basis. Pardon my bluntness.”
“No, you’re quite right. Don’t misunderstand, I love my family. My dad can just be a very headstrong man.”
“So you come by it honestly,” he said with a little smile. “Maybe I should talk to him.”
“You wouldn’t get anywhere. But maybe under these circumstances he’ll be more willing to share things with me.” She glanced at her watch and saw that it was going on six o’clock. “I’m tempted to go out to Mom and Dad’s right now to make sure everything’s all right. This has me all tied up in knots.”
Copeland thought for a moment. “Debra, I may be completely off-base here. But I half suspect that Levi may be trying to goad you into doing just that. I’m sure he knows your dad can take care of himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if he hopes to get you out there alone.”
“I think you might be stretching a bit.”
“I don’t. For what it’s worth, Lynette wanted to talk to your father—to alert him to what Levi Barrow has been doing. Look. The phone’s not working. It’s getting dark. My opinion is that we should all stay together tonight. If anything happens…I think we’re all safer together.”
“I’m just next door. It’s not as if we’re miles apart.”
“Listen to me. Lynette’s got an idea—and I think it’s a good one—that we get together with people in town and share information. Watch out for each other. Face it; however hard it is to believe, we’re being cut off from the rest of the world. I don’t know how or why, but it’s happening. Hell, for my money, your father is the first person we should go to. If nothing else, he knows the story behind the Barrows. If he needs any convincing, you’re the one to do it. It only makes sense.”
She thought for a moment, eyes still dubious. “It does make sense. But pressing my father on something that is obviously very personal to him would be a mistake.”
“You know, teacher, now you’re stretching. I think you’ve become used to having things your way, and now you’re being contrary just for the sake of it.”
“I am not.”
“You are too.”
“I am not.”
He took a chance, reached for her hand, and held it gently. “Debra, at the very least, come back to Lynette’s, and let’s all stay together until we can figure out what’s going on and what we can do about it. I don’t believe it’s safe for us to be separated. Especially for you.”
“That worried, huh?”
He nodded. “The situation is bad enough as it is, and with Levi Barrow thrown into the equation…yes, I’m that worried.”
She gazed into his eyes, gauging his earnestness. She looked tired and shaken, and he thought she had might have been crying after her father’s visit. But the cool gleam in her eyes indicated that her inner strength had hardly begun to be tested. Finally, she nodded and said, “All right. We stay together. After all…it makes the most sense.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I guess you know that over the past couple of days I’ve rather come to like you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She placed her other hand over Copeland’s. Her smile was weak but sincere. “Thank you, Russ. I guess you’re okay too. Mostly.”
“We’d better get back. All right?”
“If we’re having a sleepover party, I need to grab a few things. Give me a minute.”
They rose, and he went downstairs to wait for her. A pleasant warmth coursed through his body, but an aching, icy lump lingered in his stomach. A growing suspicion that new dangers lurked in the coming night eclipsed any satisfaction from his bonding with Debra. After Billy Hart had reported the mist-shrouded chasm appearing where a highway should have been, he had more than half-expected the sheriff to call on him. Maybe enough people had experienced the bizarre phenomena today to force him to investigate—and hopefully find a way to contact someone who could shed some light on the situation.
“I’m ready,” Debra called. He turned to see her coming down the stairs carrying a small black overnight bag. “I hope Lynette has popcorn.”
The mention of food reminded Copeland that he hadn’t eaten anything since early morning. “Before we do anything or go anywhere,” he said, “a few rations would do us good.” She agreed with a nod, and as they headed back to Lynette’s, she walked close at his side, seemingly relieved, in spite of all she had said, that she would not be spending the night alone. After stepping in through the front door, he took her bag and placed it on the floor next to Lynette’s umbrella stand. “I’ll take that upstairs for you in a little bit.”
“If your heart is set on lifting my burdens for me, I’ve got some furniture at my house that needs to be carried upstairs.”
“Later, perhaps,” Copeland said with a chuckle. He called for Lynette but received no answer. They went through the kitchen to the porch and found it empty. Then he noticed a faint, unfamiliar smell—something very unpleasant, reminding him of the formic acid smell that ants gave off.
“Russ! Russ, look!”
He turned to see Debra pointing to the little alcove off the kitchen where the back door opened to the backyard terrace.
The door hung shattered on its frame, apparently broken in from outside. Something had completely shredded its lower half, and as he leaned down to take a closer look, he saw distinct, black scorch marks on the wood. He immediately recalled the manner of Rodney’s death and the glowing thing that had pursued Zack Baird down the mountain road the previous day.
“Jesus God,” he whispered. He turned and ran up the stairs, calling Lynette’s name. He found all the rooms empty, and up here, he could not sm
ell the weird, acidic odor. Rushing back downstairs, he again called, “Lynette!”
Debra’s eyes blazed with dread as she came out of the living room. “She’s not on this floor. She’s not here.”
“Oh God, oh God,” he moaned. “How long was I gone? Ten minutes?”
Debra went out the front door and rushed around to the back yard, shrilly calling for Lynette. Copeland was behind her in an instant, his eyes scanning the trees, the steep hillside at the south end of the house, the long meadow that led to Yew Line Ridge. Shaking violently, he went to the ruined door to examine it from the outside. On the bricked terrace, he found a glistening splatter of red.
“There,” Debra said grimly, pointing to the grass at the edge of the terrace. “It leads toward the trees.”
Trying to deny the certainty of what the blood trail meant, he followed it until it vanished amid the oaks, sycamores, and pines that looked down on the house from the almost vertical hillside. Beneath the dense boughs, the shadows loomed thick and heavy, unbroken by even a stray beam of dying sunlight. He saw and heard nothing in that deep darkness; not a cricket chirping, not a mourning dove singing, not a squirrel rustling in the leaves.
Then, far in the distance, something went click-click-clack, click-click-clack. Then it, too, fell silent and did not come again.
The fiery rim of the sun finally sank behind the ridge in the west. As night spread over the land like a frigid, nightmarish cloak, Copeland dropped to his knees and wailed his anguish to the forest, while Debra wrapped her arms around herself and wept a river of tears, as if they could somehow wash away the awful trail of blood at her feet.
Chapter 11
“I don’t know what it was, and I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”
“I tell you, people could hear it all over town. Most bizarre thing in the world, it was.”
“Well, I didn’t hear anything.”
Elise Martin had never seen her husband so frazzled; not that she could really blame him with all that was going on in town the last few days. Ever since Rodney Lawson’s funeral, Glenn had come and gone constantly, and he had not slept in at least 72 hours. His normally impassive face was taut with worry, and his eyes constantly batted back and forth as if searching for something hiding in the shadows. Today, he had spent the after-school hours visiting with Debra—but he claimed to have heard none of the bizarre music, which had echoed weirdly through town late in the afternoon. Everyone had heard the sounds, and some said it came from the old church on Cheat Mountain Road, which was close to their daughter’s house. How could he not have heard such a racket?