“That’s true,” Peete allowed. “Maybe it was a break in – a home invasion. She might’ve surprised a burglar or someone strung out on dope – maybe some crack head lookin’ for a quick score.”
Dave’s face brightened. “I’ll bet that’s exactly what happened and Charlie don’t know a thing about it.”
Johnny glanced at Fred. Fred looked back. He could see the same thought in the other man’s eyes. If that were the case, then the cops would have withheld the victim’s identity until next of kin could be notified. He shook his head ever so slightly. Johnny nodded and then looked back at Dave.
“That’s possible,” Johnny agreed.
And, the gunshot Johnny and I heard in the woods last night? Fred thought. Was that a home invasion, too? Of course, we don’t know it was Charlie. Not for sure. There are probably enough guns in these hills to outfit a decent militia.
“You’re right about one thing, though,” Dave said as he stepped away from the island. He put his cup inside the sink and grabbed his hooded coat from the peg by the door. “No matter what went on back home, here it was colder than hell. Judgin’ by the frost on the barn, it had to be somewhere in the mid-twenties at least, maybe colder. It ain’t important to me why he stayed out there. The plain fact is, he did. And now he might be in trouble. Hypothermia’s no joke. We need to look for him. We need to find him.”
“Agreed.” Fred stood, drained his cup, and put it in the sink. He reached over and switched off the coffee pot and then turned to face the others. “Let’s do this right, though. We need to make sure we have our shit together before we go out there beating the bushes.
“I think the first places we need to check are the blinds. Since those are the places I showed y’all they’re probably the places he’d remember if he got turned around in the dark. I think that’s where we’re most likely gonna find him. There are tarps in all of them so he could have made himself a tent or a lean-to. I hope that’s what he did, anyway. He knows we’d come lookin’ for him so he’ll probably stay put ’til we find him. We should stick together until we’ve checked them all.”
“Good thinking,” Dave agreed.
“If he’s not at any of the blinds, then we can talk about dividin’ into teams of two.” Fred pointed. “Johnny, you’re with me.”
“Okay.”
“Dave, that leaves you and Peete.”
“No problem.”
“Peete, there are a couple of first aid kits down in the garage near the door. Would you bring those up here, please?”
“Sure thing.” Peete headed down the stairs.
“Johnny, there are a couple of backpacks and a twelve-pack of bottled water. We could use them, too.”
“Sure thing,” he agreed as he slid his chair from the table. “Hey, Peete! Wait for me.”
As Johnny disappeared down the stairs, Fred turned to Dave. “I know Charlie’s your best friend and all…”
Dave raised his hands. “I know what you’re going to say. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Yeah, I’m worried about him. Like you said, he’s my best friend. I’m the one who brought him into the group. If it was Johnny, you’d be feeling the same way.”
“Probably.”
“No probably to it. You know you would. Don’t sweat it. There’s likely nothin’ to worry about. But, if there is – if we don’t find him up at one of the blinds – then going about this half-cocked won’t help anyone, least of all him.”
“Exactly. I’m glad to see we’re on the same page.” Both men turned at the sound of footsteps coming up from the garage.
Johnny entered the kitchen first. He set the bottled water on top of the island and placed one of the first aid kits on top of the plastic wrapper. Peete followed with the backpacks and the remaining kit.
“Now what?” Peete asked.
“Now we need to make a plan.” Johnny poured more coffee into his mug and turned around. “What? It wasn’t cold, yet.”
Dave snorted and looked at Fred. “How do we make a plan? We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get up there.”
“That’s true enough,” Fred agreed. “But, we can come up with a few things in general. Like I said, I think we should all go up to the blinds together. We need to pack some food and water and the first aid kits. Nothing fancy on the food – just some jerky, some nuts, some candy; quick energy stuff. We should take at least one bedroll or sleeping bag, too. Like one of you mentioned – hypothermia’s no joke. Someone grab an axe, too.”
“Why? We buildin’ a fire?”
“We might have to. We might need to make a travois, so we need to take some rope, too.”
“In case he’s hurt or unconscious. Got it.” Johnny turned and headed for the steps. “I saw a couple of coils while I was getting the packs.”
“What if Charlie comes back while we’re checking the blinds?” Dave asked. “We don’t want him to come lookin’ for us.”
“Good point. Why don’t you leave a note tellin’ him what we’re doing. Tell him to just kick back and watch some TV until we get back. Make sure you tell him to stay put.”
Johnny cleared his throat from the top of the stairs. “Uh, TV might not be such a good idea – especially if he did do something to Janine. We don’t want him taking off, again. Right?”
“What do you suggest?” Fred asked.
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. Disable the TV somehow? Maybe disconnect the satellite dish?”
“Nah,” Dave said, shaking his head. “He’s smart enough to figure out what’s wrong and fix it.”
“Not if we disconnect it on the outside, say, at the dish?”
Fred thought about it for a moment. “That might work. Why don’t you take care of that while you’re down there?”
“Sure. I can do that easy enough. You got any tools?”
“I think there’s a kit along the back wall. One of those rolling Craftsman set ups.”
“Got it.” He grabbed his parka from the coat rack and clumped down the stairs.
“Let’s get these backpacks filled.” Fred started pulling packets from the cupboard. As he tossed them onto the island, they heard the door open and close.
“How long do you think we’ll be out there?” Peete asked as he cut the clear plastic away from the bottles of water.
Fred shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on whether he’s up at the blinds or not. If we have to search, then I guess we’ll be out there a few hours. Why?”
“Well, I want to make sure we pack enough water.” He started placing the bottles near the packs. “We might want something warm, too. Maybe take some coffee. You have any thermos bottles?”
“I’ve got one; I’m sure Johnny does. Dave?”
Dave nodded. “I have one with my hunting stuff. I’ll go get it.”
They heard the garage door open again. Johnny’s voice echoed in the hallway leading up as he shouted, “Fred! Peete! Dave! Get your asses out here! Y’all need to see this!”
The three men looked at each other and then chased down the stairs to the open door and a white-faced Johnny standing just outside.
“What’s up?” Fred asked, already regretting not grabbing his coat on the way down.
Johnny pointed and said nothing.
“Oh, my god.” Dave’s voice quivered.
Fred stared at the cistern.
The heavy steel cover bulged in the middle as if a giant fist had driven upward from the hidden depths. The once square door was thrown back and twisted into a mangled mass like a discarded sheet of aluminum foil. What remained dangled from one bent bolt. The hatch opening bore three rents on either side. The edges of the torn metal were bent inward. The shattered lock lay on the ground a few feet away from the stone ring.
“What the …” Fred stopped. He had no words for what lay before him.
“You got me, friend,” Johnny rasped from just behind him.
Dave stared. He though
t about the glowing symbols. He thought about the sounds he heard after he scraped the symbols from the stone. He felt his testicles try to hide behind his stomach.
“Somethin’ wanted out bad,” Peete whispered from behind him.
Dave only nodded. “I think I might have helped it,” He whispered.
Johnny looked at Fred. “What do you think it was?”
“I don’t know.” Fred slowly shook his head, his eyes wide. “I don’t think I want to know.”
Dave shuddered. “I know I don’t.”
“Maybe it was gas.”
Everyone looked at Peete.
“You know,” he continued. “Methane. You said they mined around here, right? I remember readin’ that sometimes there would be explosions in the coalmines. You can’t smell methane. Miners would hit the rocks with their picks, make a spark, and boom! That’s one reason miners used to take canaries in cages down with them – so they could tell if there was gas. If the bird died, then they got the hell out of there.”
Fred looked at the cistern; at the steel cover with its new domed shape; at the torn and twisted hatch. “I suppose that’s possible,” he said. “I can only think of one problem with your theory.”
“What’s that?”
“I doubt if any of us slept much last night. Did anyone hear an explosion?” He pointed at the cistern. “It would have taken one helluva blast to do that. That’s some pretty heavy gauge steel there. Boilerplate, at the least. Did anyone hear anything? I know I didn’t.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Truly Mae Ketchum lay on her back on her narrow spinster’s bed. She’d had this same mattress for so long its center bore a long Truly Mae shaped depression. Its closeness comforted her at night and helped her to sleep. It was like a gentle hand embracing her.
Not tonight, however – not since those strangers came to stay at ol’ Lawyer’s place. Something happened that night. One of them did something and she feared the mountains would run with blood before it all was back like it was – if it ever could be.
She felt the darkness press down on her like a smothering pillow. She struggled to breathe, to fill her lungs, but her chest only expanded halfway. She lay on the bed and struggled against the cloying darkness for a few moments longer. She gathered her strength – there was far more to her than one would think by looking at her spindly form – and levered herself up. She sat there for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest. At last it settled into a reasonable rhythm. Satisfied that she’d averted Death’s bony touch once more, she decided it was time to rise and face the day.
Truly shivered. The coals in the hearth were banked and gave off little heat but she didn’t mind. She welcomed the cold. It cleared her mind and drove the haints away. Her toes inch wormed across the floor until they found her slippers. Her feet burrowed into the fuzzy comfort. She smiled. Jake gave them to her a couple of Christmases past. She’d protested that he should have spent his money on something for himself, but she was pleased, nonetheless – especially on cold mornings like this. She snagged a worn and threadbare bathrobe from the bedpost and draped it over her shoulders as she rose from the bed and padded into the kitchen.
She sniffed the air. Night was nearly gone and morning was on its heels. There was no sense going back to bed. Sleep was long gone. Something was happening; something worse than she’d ever experienced in the eighty-six years she’d walked these hills. It was brewing in the rocks beneath her feet.
She stood before the chipped enamel kitchen sink, her head bowed. “Mother,” she whispered, “you know I always give you my all – leastwise as much as this old body will let me. I just hope you ain’t puttin’ more on my plate than I can eat this time.”
She turned to the wooden table that had stood in the middle of the kitchen since before she was born and groped until her hand brushed against the base of the kerosene lamp sitting in the center. She pulled it across the table’s smooth surface. Her other hand found the half-open box of kitchen matches lying nearby. She removed a match and dragged its head against the rough strip on the outside of the box. She squinted against the match’s flare as she raised the glass chimney. While she held the flame against the wick, she turned the knob to adjust it. The warm yellow glow gave scant illumination to the small kitchen. Shadows danced on the walls and ceiling. She walked back to the sink and grabbed a wide-mouthed ceramic pitcher and held it over the sink in front of the cast iron water pump. Shadows flickered across the pump’s red enamel surface.
Coffee or tea? she thought as she worked the cold handle. The pipe rattled and groaned as the nearly frozen water worked its way up to the spout. By the time the icy liquid spilled over the metal lip and splashed into the waiting vessel she was breathing heavily. She set it aside once it was full. As she stood there for a moment to catch her breath, she shook her head. Getting old was as inconvenient as it was inevitable. Time was she could fill two pitchers and a kettle for boiling and never raise her pulse.
Those days are long gone, she thought sadly.
She bustled about the tiny kitchen. Soon she had two more lanterns lit, banishing the shadows. Three logs burned cheerfully in the hearth. A black iron kettle hung over the flames. Tendrils of steam rose from the water inside. A percolator burbled merrily on the matte black surface of the Franklin stove. Bacon sizzled in a cast iron skillet while the aroma of baking biscuits floated on the air from the ancient oven.
“Whatcha makin’, Granny?” Betty June stood in the doorway rubbing her eyes with the sides of her fists. A flowered nightshirt hung down to just above her tiny ankles.
Truly looked at the thirteen-year-old girl. Her wide-set eyes and somewhat flat face made her just shy of being what others might call pretty. Her hair, now mussed and scraggly from sleep, was neither brown nor blonde and yet, not quite mousy, either. It was a shade all its own. She was going to be tall when she finished growing – taller than Truly – and she was budding fast. The boys would notice her soon, if they hadn’t already. Would it turn her head like it did so many other girls? Or, would Betty June hear the call just as Truly Mae had when she was the same age?
Truly looked closely at her, as she always did, seeking the signs of the taint she knew were there. So far, though, there was no outward sign of the unholy union that produced this lovely child. She shook her head and held her arms out to the girl who ran to her. Their arms wrapped in a warm hug.
“Just makin’ breakfast, June Bug. I figure cold as it is that some eggs an’ bacon’ an’ mebbe some grits and biscuits might warm us up. What do you think?”
The girl smiled up at her, her muddy green eyes shining brightly. “I think I better get to the outhouse afore I gotta mop the floor, that’s what I think.”
Truly kissed the top of Betty’s head. “I think it’s mighty cold out there. Why don’t you just use the thunder mug instead? We can dump it in the outhouse once the sun comes up an’ warms things up a bit.”
The girl gave her another squeeze and then disengaged herself. She ran to the little room that served as a bath chamber and a necessary room. Truly chuckled knowing how the cold slate floor would only add to the girl’s urgency. The stove’s heat hadn’t reached back there, yet.
She turned to the hearth. The water in the kettle was slowly boiling. She put a pinch of salt and a couple of handfuls of white ground corn into the bubbling liquid and stirred it until it looked like thick white porridge. She then turned to the stove and the bacon in the frying pan.
Soon everything was ready. She could hear the clatter of plates and flatware as Betty June set the table. Truly started transferring platters and bowls. Once everything was on the table, they took their places, sitting in ladder back chairs on opposite sides.
“June Bug, would you please ask the blessing?”
Both bowed their heads as Betty spoke.
“Dear Mama Cerridwen, we thank you for your bounty this morning. We will do our best to put this food to good use as we go ’bout our day. Please help me to unnerst
and as Granny Tru shares your teachnin’s with me so’s I can do good things an’ be a proper granny lady when my time comes. As you will so mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” Truly repeated. Both signed themselves with a pentagram and then looked up at each other.
“Blessed be, Granny Tru.”
“And, blessed be to you, June Bug.” Truly smiled, pleased with her student. “Now eat up ’fore it gets cold.”
She watched as Betty June attacked her breakfast as only a hungry teenager could. Her smile faltered a bit. The girl was so young. She turned her attention to serving herself.
“What we gonna study today, Granny?” the girl said around a mouthful of egg.
“I think it’s time we studied some special things.”
Lady, it’s just not fair. Truly chewed her breakfast slowly and without looking up at Betty. She’s too young to have to deal with this. She’s just not ready. What if he should… she forced the rest of the thought away from her.
“You gonna show me some real magicks? Mebbe how to make some potions?”
“Somethin’ like that, child.” She took a sip of coffee. It was strong and bitter, exactly the way she liked it. “I think we’ll start with some wards, though. Some protection magicks.”
“I already know how to make a jar and cast a circle.”
“That’s good. That’s real good. I think we’re gonna work on something a bit stronger. There’s dark work ahead, dark magick I’m afraid, and we need to be ready for it, you and me.”
“Like what?” The girl’s eyes widened.
Truly saw a touch of alarm in her expression. That was good. She needed some fear.
“There’s some things,” she began, “things I was hopin’ to teach you about later on. Some you know about; some you heard about; an’ some of it already runs through your veins.”
The color drained from the girl’s face. “You talkin’ ’bout – ’bout him ain’tcha?”
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