The Unseen

by Brian Harmon

  This whole day had felt bizarrely personal. He couldn’t believe all the crazy things he was experiencing were happening right here in his own hometown. He could walk to all these places from his house. He knew the people here. He taught their children in his classes.

  It made it all feel less real somehow.

  “Peaceful, isn’t it?” said Paul as he looked out at the rows of headstones.

  “It should be.”

  Paul chuckled.

  Eric read the headstones as he walked by. He recognized almost all of the surnames here.

  Karen’s cell phone sang again. No name appeared on the screen and he didn’t recognize the number. Again, he let it go to voice mail.

  Paul glanced back at him and grinned. “Hey. Do you remember how you used to always want to watch those scary movies I liked to rent?”

  Eric smiled. “Mom always said no, but I kept begging her until she gave in.”

  “She’d give me grief every time I picked one up in the video store. And I don’t think you ever made it to the end of one.”

  “Not for years, I don’t think.”

  Paul shook his head. “You used to be scared of everything.”

  “I don’t think I was scared of everything.”

  “You were. I used to scare you so easy.”

  “I hated that you did that, you know.”

  “Remember that old monster mask I had? The green one?”

  “I really hated that thing.”

  “You were so funny. You’d practically climb the walls when I put it on.”

  “You did think it was funny.”

  “Not as funny as this.”

  Eric looked at him. “As what?”

  “This. All this stuff today.”

  “I’m not sure I see what’s so funny about it.”

  “You. That’s what. You just keep going. You don’t even hesitate.”

  Eric looked back toward the truck. They were about halfway to the far end of the cemetery now. So far, there was nothing here that stood out. “I don’t have time to hesitate. That note this morning, those strange phone calls from my lost phone…they keep telling me that someone’s going to die today. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “Then what’s so funny about that?”

  Paul chuckled. “It’s just ironic.”

  “Why is it ironic?”

  “Because you’re the one sitting through the movie now. And I’m the one ready to crawl under the covers and hide.”

  “You?”

  “Jesus, Eric, I’m terrified. This is all seriously fucked up. There’s a deranged cowboy with the ability to create vicious monsters out of thin air trying to kill you. I’m way out of my league here. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

  Eric stopped and turned to face him. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Then…why are you here? Why did you try to follow me last year?”

  Again, Paul laughed. “The same reason you wanted to watch those movies.”

  “I wanted to be like my big brother.”

  Paul shrugged. “I wouldn’t’ve made it sound so sappy.”

  Eric smiled and started walking again. He was right. It really was ironic, now that he thought about it. “Well I think this is all pretty terrifying, too, so there you go.”

  Paul’s smile broadened. “That’s okay. Back when we were kids, I used to think those movies were pretty terrifying, too. I just liked that you thought I was so brave.”

  They turned west and followed the woods around the back leg of the cemetery. It was extra peaceful back here, out of sight of the nearby roads. Beyond these trees were quiet neighborhoods.

  In the very back corner, where the cemetery nosed into the woods at the corner of the property, was the oldest of the cemetery’s restful residents. There, they saw someone.

  “Hey,” said Paul. “Is that Aiden?”

  It did indeed look like Aiden. He was still wearing the blue hoodie. But how had he beaten them here?

  “What’s he doing?”

  Eric wasn’t sure. He shaded his eyes again. He looked like he was…

  He felt his heart drop.

  “Holy shit…” stammered Paul. “Is he digging?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Eric had done more than his fair share of crazy things today. He’d climbed an apple tree to escape a pack of vicious monsters. He’d stood in a strange, upside-down rain of liquid gold. He’d been shot at. He’d hauled a fat, unconscious cowboy down a flight of stairs and threw him at a group of bikers. And he’d hurled himself bodily from a train. But he had no intention of being an accomplice to grave robbing.

  He and Paul dashed across the cemetery toward Aiden, dodging headstones as they went.

  Aiden saw them coming and waved at them. The gesture was almost cheerful, as if he wasn’t in the middle of desecrating someone’s final resting place.

  “What the hell are you doing?” bellowed Paul.

  Aiden looked down at the ground at his feet and then back up. “Digging,” he replied.

  Points for honesty, thought Eric. “You can’t just walk into a cemetery and start digging!”

  “You’re going to get us all arrested!” added Paul.

  But Aiden thrust his shovel back into the ground and continued digging. “Relax, guys,” he shouted.

  “Relax?” replied Paul. “What do you mean relax? Jesus Christ, kid!”

  Aiden stopped digging and looked up at them again. He looked baffled. “I mean relax, Grandpa. You’re going to give yourself a condition.”

  “Oh, I’m going to hurt this kid so bad!”

  Eric finally reached him and stopped to survey the damage as he caught his breath. The hole wasn’t that big. He hadn’t been at it long. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

  Aiden scooped up another shovelful of dirt and replied, “Looking for something I lost.”

  Eric looked at the aged headstone. “Sterling Geldrin?” His initials weren’t A. G. Well…G. But not A. “Who is this guy?”

  Aiden glanced over at the headstone. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” said Paul. “But you’re digging up his grave?”

  “I’m not digging up his grave. Jeez, what kind of person does he think I am?”

  Paul looked at Eric, confused.

  “So, what are you doing?” asked Eric.

  Aiden pushed the shovel into the earth and wriggled it back and forth. Something was there, just beneath the surface. “Finding something that Glen left me.” He pried the object out of the ground with the shovel. It was another metal box, smaller than the one they found on the train. “There we are,” he grunted.

  He bent down and picked it up out of the dirt, brushing it off.

  “Buried over the grave?” observed Eric.

  “Yep. Right where nobody would ever likely be digging.” He turned and held the shovel out to Paul. “Fill that back in nice and neat, okay?”

  Paul looked offended. “Why me?”

  Aiden looked at him as if it were the silliest question he’d ever heard and replied, “Because I’m talking about this box.”

  Paul looked at Eric again.

  “You want me to do it?” Eric asked him.

  Paul snatched the shovel out of Aiden’s hand. “No. I’ve got it.” He glanced around, half convinced that someone was going to now think that he was digging up a grave, but they were still alone.

  “I rolled back the grass so you can cover it back over really easy.”

  So he had. Looking over the operation now, Eric was impressed with the amount of respect Aiden had shown for Mr. Geldrin.

  “How did you find a shovel so fast, anyway?” asked Paul as he began raking the dirt back into the hole. “How’d you even get here so fast?”

  “I brought the New Yorker. Shovel was in the trunk, with the other tools.”

  “Wait,” said Eric. “That old car we parked next to?”

  Aid
en nodded as he seated himself on the grass and examined the box. “It was Glen’s.”

  “You have a car?”

  “Well, he didn’t think Glen drove me all over the country on that motorcycle, did he?”

  “I…honestly hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I put it in storage after Glen died. And when I came back to town a few weeks ago, I knew I’d be spending more time than I wanted at the park, so I hid it nearby. Just in case I needed a fast getaway.”

  “Good thinking,” said Paul.

  “Thanks.”

  “So when we got separated in the rail car…” surmised Eric.

  “I booked it to my car, yeah. I didn’t know how long it’d take you to get back and I didn’t have time to wait for you, so I drove past the park and tossed that journal into the truck. I knew you’d figure it out. And you’d have time to take a good look at the rest of the journal, too.”

  “I’m surprised you trusted me with it.”

  Aiden shrugged. “I’m starting to realize that maybe you’re what I need to finally finish this thing. We’re obviously on the same side. And you’re surprisingly kickass for an English teacher.”

  Eric felt flattered. “Thanks.”

  “Anyway. After that I came straight here.”

  “Why here?”

  “Because of what was in that box we found.”

  “You mean the stone? That meant something to you?”

  “It did.”

  Eric sighed. “I’m sorry, but the cowboy has it now.”

  Aiden looked surprised. “He took the rock?”

  “He did. I’m sorry.”

  Aiden pondered this for a few seconds and then said, “I wonder what he wanted it for.”

  Eric exchanged a confused looked with Paul. “Isn’t it important?”

  “Sure. But not to him.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Paul.

  “Me, either,” said Eric. “Those clues in all the unseen locations were leading you to the park. We found what was there. We found the box. Doesn’t it point the way forward?”

  Aiden continued to look confused, then he brightened up. “Oh! Right. I get what he’s saying. No.”

  Eric cocked his head. “What?”

  “No. The rock’s not important. The cowboy can have it.”

  “Then why were all the clues pointing to it?” asked Paul.

  Aiden looked at him and then gestured at the ground. “You’re not done.”

  Grumbling, Paul went back to filling in the hole.

  To Eric, Aiden said, “There used to be a clue in that box. That’s what the symbols were pointing to. But it’s not there anymore.”

  “What? Where is it?”

  “Glen took it.”

  “Glen? What, you mean before he died?”

  Aiden nodded. “I was really pissed at first. I was like, ‘That bastard!’ He must’ve found it when he was still alive and hidden it elsewhere.”

  “And he never told you?”

  He shook his head. “He died leaving me to believe that we lost the trail in that park. But obviously, he knew I’d figure it out eventually. He left a message that only I’d understand.”

  “That rock was a message from Glen?”

  Aiden smiled. “He had a code system that he made me memorize when he first took me in. In case of emergency. It was simple. Certain words corresponded to specific locations. If he said a word, I’d meet him at that location. For example, the word ‘iron’ meant to meet him behind the hardware store on Fifth Street. ‘Aluminum’ meant to meet by the water tower. ‘Gold’ was the code for get out of town and meet up at a park in Oshkosh.”

  Eric nodded. “Okay… So what did the rock tell you?”

  “The rock had the letters A and G on it. That’s the atomic symbol for silver.”

  “And silver was the code to meet you in the cemetery,” Eric realized.

  “Not just the cemetery.” Aiden gestured at the headstone.

  Eric looked at the name again. “Sterling… Of course.”

  “As soon as I saw the rock, I knew that Glen had been there. He’d already found the next clue and moved it. And he left me a message telling him to meet me here.”

  “Except Glen can’t meet you here because he’s dead,” said Paul as he smoothed out the grass over the hole and stood up to examine his work.

  Aiden nodded. “There was a minute or two when I let myself hope that maybe there was some crazy chance he’d be here, but I knew he wouldn’t have left me a clue like that if he didn’t intend for me to find it after he was gone. I mean, there had to be a reason he didn’t tell me he’d already found it, right? So I figured he must have left something here for me.”

  “Perceptive,” said Eric. “But how’d you know to dig for it?”

  “On my way over here, I remembered a story he told me about how he once hid something in a cemetery by burying it over a gravesite. I realized he might’ve done it again. A few stabs into the earth with the blade of the shovel and I hit it.”

  “So what’s in the box? Any idea?”

  Aiden smiled. “I’ve got a very good idea. Glen had a secret. He found the final piece of the puzzle. And now that he’s gone, there’s only one place we could possibly find it.”

  “In a dirty box?” guessed Paul.

  “In his journal,” said Aiden.

  Eric reached into his pocket and withdrew the journal he found on the seat of Paul’s truck. “This one?”

  Aiden’s grin widened. “That’s not Glen’s journal.”

  “It’s not?”

  “It’s half of Glen’s journal.” He opened the box in his lap and withdrew a second notebook. “This is the other half.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Eric thumbed through the pages of the second journal as he approached the small cemetery parking lot. It looked like more of the same nonsense to him. “I’m sorry,” he told Aiden, who was walking beside him with the other notebook, “but it all looks like insane ramblings to me.”

  “Of course it does. It’s supposed to.”

  It was supposed to look like this? “So, what, there’s some kind of code or something?”

  “There is, actually.”

  “This guy was a real paranoid nut,” said Paul. “You know that, right?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Maybe. But he still knew what he was doing.” To Eric, he said, “You can skip all the stuff that sounds crazy.”

  “That’s pretty much everything I can read.”

  “Sounds about right. The whole point of the journal was to make it look like he was mentally disturbed. Even if someone found it, they wouldn’t take it seriously.” Aiden leafed through the pages of the first journal and pointed to the strange shorthand notes that Eric hadn’t been able to read before. “This is the actual journal.”

  Eric looked from one to the other. “So how do we read them?”

  Aiden didn’t answer for a moment. He looked a little closer at the pages in front of him. “Well, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. Glen never told me how to break the code.”

  “Well that’s handy,” said Paul. “So now what?”

  Aiden didn’t seem to have an answer. He was still looking back and forth between the two journals. “I’m probably going to need some time.”

  “Time is something we might not have,” Paul reminded him. “That cowboy could show up any minute.”

  As they left Sterling Geldrin’s gravesite and set out across the expansive cemetery toward the vehicles, Eric had told Aiden about his experience in the woods after they were separated and about his conversation with Pink Shirt. He explained the aura plasma and how it had been used to spy on them all day.

  Aiden was less visibly shaken by the idea of being watched than by the news that Glen was a former member of the very organization that murdered him. “Normer, huh?” Aiden had asked. “Funny, I never knew his last name. Thought I never would.”

  Now Aiden was looking around nervously. “If that guy’s be
en spying on us while we’ve been here, he probably knows by now that the rock’s a dead end. He’ll be wanting the journal.”

  It was true. And Eric found it difficult to believe for a moment that they weren’t still being watched. According to Pink Shirt, it only took a tiny drop of aura plasma to spy on their conversations. It could be hidden anywhere. And the cowboy would definitely want to keep an eye on them, in case he couldn’t figure out what AG meant. If he’d really thought that he was done with them, he would have killed Eric when he had the chance.

  “Let’s get out of here,” agreed Paul. He was looking around now, too. It was surprising that they hadn’t already been attacked again.

  “Definitely,” said Aiden. He opened the driver’s side door of the New Yorker and started to get in, but he paused and looked back. “But I still don’t know where we’re going yet.”

  “Good,” said Eric. “Let’s not have someone waiting for us when we get there.”

  “You go with the kid,” Paul told Eric. “See what you two can figure out. I know I’m not going to be any help. I’ll follow you.”

  Eric nodded. “Good idea. We’ll keep moving. Make it harder for someone to surprise us.”

  As Aiden pulled away from the cemetery and pointed the old New Yorker north, Eric began studying the two coded journals. It was a little hard to think with the loud rumbling of the Chrysler around him. “You need a new muffler, I think.”

  Aiden shrugged. “It probably needs new everything. I was a little surprised it still started when I went to get it out of storage.”

  They followed Boxlar out of town and turned onto Kerney Road, which would take them out toward the highway. Aiden clearly meant to circle around town in hopes of avoiding any unnecessary exposure, but being out in the country didn’t seem like the best idea to Eric. If the cowboy found them, he’d only have to run them off the road with his formidable pickup.

  He focused his attention on the journals. There were very little words on these pages. With few exceptions it was little more than a series of meaningless slashes and curves and the occasional dot. He had no idea how he was supposed to get anything from it.

  Retrieving Karen’s phone from his pocket again, he asked Isabelle if she had any ideas.