Between the third and eighth mile, the countryside opened up its mouth and breathed. The fields were continuous strands on each side of the road, with only the occasional horse or cow roaming about. There were a few old barns and stables resting far back in the distance at the edge of the forest, but for the most part, until the church steeple popped its head up over the hillside a few miles down, the land was flat and barren.
Once you passed the church, however, the entire structure from which Maria Avenue had been built upon collapsed, and at times even disappeared altogether. It was almost as if God had drawn a line separating the part of Maria that mattered and the part that didn’t, or the good half from the bad.
The newly paved roads, which made for such a pleasant ride earlier, gave way to scabby, uneven surfaces. Parts of the road were so bad tall weeds had grown between the large chunks of missing concrete. The last street light stood tall at the end of the church parking lot, so if you were to trek any further down the road after nightfall, you would make the journey with nothing but the silver glow of the moon to light your way.
The large farmland, which had stretched for miles before the church, cut back sharply as the forest in the distance closed the gap and bullied its way to the side of the road. A half a mile later, the barren fields were replaced entirely by the forest which stood tall and dark, with long, twisting branches hung over the road, and the echoes of the unknown crying out from within.
Without a doubt, this desolate section of Maria was not an area explored often, or at all anymore. Most people knew better and would avoid the unlit, beaten road at all costs, even if they were curious where it led. Their mind recognized the imaginary line and warned them not to cross it; for it wasn’t the length, light, or shape of the road that mattered, only where it led you in the end. Maria had its dark spot, its shadow under the trees, and it hid it well.
2
Virginia slowed the black Nissan as a pair of orange road horses came into view through the thick rain. One horse had been knocked on its side, probably by the tumultuous wind, and lay a few feet from a ditch at the left side of the road. She applied more pressure to the brake then turned the wheel to the left and stopped at the side of the only standing road horse. She tried to make out what the orange tape read through the gusting rain but was unable from her position.
“What does it say?” she asked.
Isaac unlatched his seat belt and moved closer to the window. The view was very dark and obstructed by the storm; add the black tint and fogged windows, and it made seeing anything more than a few feet away seem impossible. “I can't tell.”
Then, when he had about given up, the rain calmed long enough to get a clear view. The words were easy to read, but difficult to say.
“Dead end,” he murmured, glancing over at Virginia before sliding back into his seat. “It says dead end.”
The storm picked back up again.
Quietly, Virginia wondered if she’d made a mistake. There appeared to be no sign of the green Civic and this was literally the end of the road. Could it have been possible that they came this far for nothing? “I wonder where your daughter’s car is.”
Isaac straightened up in his seat and began scanning the surroundings outside. For some reason, he had forgotten all about the car, how it was missing from the driveway. From the moment the idea entered his mind, he was sure that he would find his daughter here, at this dark and haunted place, but how she would end up this far from home had somehow slipped past him.
“Well, where is this place? I expected it to be here.”
Virginia pointed out the passenger window. “Beyond the fence."
The eight-foot iron fence stood fifteen feet away from the road and stretched a great distance back into the forest. Virginia had walked around the exterior of the fence many years ago to get a good glimpse of the four corners of the mansion. This was just days before she followed the long path through the trees to the front entrance, determined to wander inside, only to quickly turn back once she arrived. She could still remember wondering, as she stood at the front gate looking back at the long path through the trees, what was it that told her to leave? What was it that told her she was not welcome?
“Maybe the car is inside the fence,” said Isaac. “Closer to the mansion.”
Virginia nodded. “You’re probably right. I just hope that we aren’t making a mistake.”
Isaac leaned forward and tilted his head toward Virginia. “You think coming here was a mistake?”
“I said I hope it wasn’t a mistake,” she said.
“Well, I didn’t come all this way to turn back now." Isaac hurried out of the car and into the pouring rain.
Virginia waited in the car while Isaac walked over to the iron fence at the end of the road. As he stood fiddling with the gate, a large bolt of lightning struck down in the distance, just over Isaac’s head, and in the direction of the mansion. Isaac jumped back from the fence, glanced up at the dark sky, and walked back toward the car. Virginia rolled down the passenger window. She wanted to say she was sorry for what she had said. She didn’t mean for them to leave; only that she was scared.
Instead of getting back into the car, as Virginia had hoped, Isaac crossed in front of it and walked over to the broken road horse at the left side of the road. He knelt down next to it and began yanking at the tape.
Now Virginia had a terrible feeling, a shiver swept over her entire body. She continued to watch, with her hands trembling on her knees, as Isaac picked his head up from the dead horse and stood up. He turned his head toward the car and stared back at Virginia. Even from a distance, through the turbulent storm, she could see him breathing hard, and the terrifying look in his eyes.
Isaac leapt down into the ditch at the side of the road. Virginia rushed out of the car. Once at the curb, she stopped suddenly and looked down in horror at the green Civic lying in the ditch in a foot of mucky water. “No,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.
The front end of the car had smashed into a rusted metal grate that sealed a large drainage pipe at the head of the ditch. The grate was bent out of shape from the collision and hung loosely in place. Virginia prayed Amy would be all right, maybe somehow the girl could have survived such a terrifying impact, but she feared the worst. The road horse at Virginia’s feet had surely played its part and had almost taken the fall as well.
Isaac hollered and slammed his fist through the passenger side window, breaking the glass in one swift blow. He broke off the remainder of the glass before jabbing the upper half of his body through the window. Virginia waited at the top of the hill, her hand still pressed against her mouth.
A few seconds later, Isaac backed out of the window and peered up at Virginia. “She’s not in here,” he yelled.
Virginia removed her hand from her mouth and took a long, deep breath. “Thank God.”
Isaac trotted up the hill and nestled next to Virginia, who was still looking down upon the smashed car. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For what I said. For everything.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “If I were in your shoes, I probably would have run off a long time ago. My courage isn’t what it used to be.”
As they jogged back toward the car, Virginia noticed a faint light glaring through the thick fog down the road. “Hey,” she yelled, pulling Isaac by the shoulder of his coat. “Look.”
Within seconds, the faint light grew much brighter, and was now accompanied by a low mumbling sound. Isaac put his hand over his brow to block the pounding rain from dumping into his eyes. He could see headlights clearly through the fog and a car progressing closer.
“It's Simmons,” said Isaac, signaling the car to stop with his hand.
Virginia watched Isaac jog up to the car and say a few words to Simmons through the driver side window. He pointed to the side of the road then nodded before scurrying out of the way and back over to Virginia at the front of the Altima. Together t
hey watched Simmons back up then carefully positioned the Camry off the road alongside the ditch where Isaac had directed. Simmons switched down the lights, turned off the ignition, and stepped out of the car into the storm.
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“The car,” said Virginia. “In the ditch.” She turned her attention away from Simmons and met eyes with Isaac. “How did you know it was there?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“I saw you go up to the gate. Why didn’t you go inside? Was it locked?”
“No, it wasn’t locked, but there were no tire marks. If the car had been driven through the gate the tires would have left tracks in the mud, but there were none, so I figured either we had come all this way for nothing, or the car had been abandoned somewhere outside the gate.”
Simmons strolled up to the Altima and stood in front of Isaac. His eyes were half shut and his hands were deeply set in his pockets. In just a short amount of time, his clothes had already become soaking wet and his brown loafers now rested in two inches of rainwater. He stared at Isaac with a blank, almost pale look on his face, and with his jaw lightly trembling.
“Thank you for coming,” said Isaac. He waited for Simmons to respond but only ended up with a quick nod. “Okay, we better get going.”
Isaac began walking toward the black iron gate at the foot of the road. A few steps into the grass, he turned around to see Virginia right behind him and Simmons still standing motionless by the car. “What’s wrong?”
At first Simmons remained quiet, unmoved, much like before, as if he hadn’t heard the question, and then finally answered. “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t come.”
Isaac walked back toward the car, not taking his eyes off of Simmons, and unsure of how to respond. When he arrived, he rested his hands on top of the roof and glared across at Simmons standing on the opposite side. “Why?”
Simmons cleared his throat and took a small step closer to the car. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Isaac turned and looked away, gazing off into the forest, then removed his hands from the car and walked around to the other side.
“Listen,” said Simmons, finally lifting his hands from his pockets. “I really don’t know what to say but I’m sorry. You know how I am. I never expected any of this. This case has always been beyond me, but I did the best I could. Now I feel like there’s nothing I can offer you anymore, and that I would only be in the way.”
Isaac understood what Simmons felt; not long ago he had felt much the same way. This wasn’t what any of them wanted, or even expected, but this is where they were led. They were led to the end of a dark, vacant road like few other, and to an old mansion waiting within the trees. Isaac knew in his heart that no matter the outcome, they had no choice but to be here, and in the end they would undoubtedly be scarred by the memory. Somewhere deep inside Simmons knew this, too. Simmons knew he had his own part to play. It was just a matter of finding the strength to let go of the fear and play the part given to you.
“Look, this isn’t about the case anymore. And this isn’t about you, or me, or being a detective. This is about saving my daughter’s life. You’re not worthless. I know you can help. So please, I’m asking you as a friend. Help me find my daughter.”
After a moment, Simmons nodded and said, “Okay.”
The detectives hurried across the road and met back up with Virginia near the front gate. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Simmons said. “I'm fine now.”
Isaac walked past them and pulled at the latch on the gate. At first, he was a little surprised there was no lock on the gate. Generally even the most run down houses would have locks on every door and gate, anything to keep unwanted visitors off the property. This place, however, was different than your typical abandoned home; useless locks weren’t needed here. A perilous aura rose from the soil like an invisible mist, daunting and resilient, challenging anyone who dare step foot inside its gate.
Isaac pushed open the large black gate and watched it swing around on old rusted limbs. After the gate came to a stop, he waited for a second, peering through the thick fog ahead, then looked back over his shoulder at Virginia and Simmons.
“Let’s go,” he said, and then marched through the gates.
3
They followed the thin, muddy path as it twisted through the forest, narrowly cutting around each tree and ducking under each vine. Virginia stepped into the front and led the way. She had followed the path once before and was confident she could lead them to the end, even in the dark of night and under such formidable conditions.
The path wasn’t much wider than a foot, and was so narrow the group had to walk single file, one behind the other, with Isaac at the tail end. At certain points, however, the path became wider allowing them to spread out and converge, though this break would only last for a short time, as the path would quickly reduce back to its original size, oftentimes much smaller than before. These moments, when the path diminished, Virginia would momentarily pause to make sure they had not strayed off course and were still moving in the right direction.
Ten minutes had passed since they ventured off Maria Avenue, and not since the first minute had anyone spoken more than a few words at a time. When they did speak, they spoke in whispers, as though they were walking through a cemetery afraid of waking the dead, and other then the sound of the wind and rain blowing through the treetops overhead, the forest was relatively silent. In times of silence, even a whisper can seem too loud, and like a faint echo carried from far away, the whisper would scatter throughout the forest and fall upon any open ears.
A presence was here, all around them. It was not to be seen or to be heard, but it was here—everywhere. The presence surveyed them, followed their every movement, and it wanted them to reach the finish line as much as they did.
Isaac stopped for a moment and turned to look behind him. The road was gone, hidden on the other side of the forest, back in reality. They were now somewhere between the road and the mansion, but how far away from either, there was no way of knowing. As far as Isaac knew, the forest could go on forever and they could be trapped here, struggling to find their way out of what appeared to be becoming more like a maze with each step forward. His thoughts remained on Amy, and he still believed they would find her, but at the same time, he could feel a sense of urgency festering in his heart.
They needed to hurry.
“What’s wrong?” asked Virginia.
Isaac turned back around and looked ahead at Virginia and Simmons a few feet in front of him. “Nothing,” he said, and nodded for them to continue forward.
The large trees above did a fine job of shielding much of the rain, which offered the group a welcomed rest from the cold downpour of before, but the trees also trapped the fog, which grew thicker as they trekked further into the dark forest. Many times the fog became so thick Isaac could barely make out his own hand in front of his face as he tried to block sharp tree branches from stabbing into his eyes.
Virginia continued to lead the way as best she could, but with the path getting ever narrower and the view cloudier by the second, the task became more tiresome and problematic then she had hoped. Were they even going in the right direction anymore? Could the path have split off into two sections at some point earlier? The last thing she wanted to do was to turn back, to retrace their exact steps leading up to this point. The longer it took them to find Amy, the greater chance they would not find her alive.
The group wandered deeper into the forest, one behind the other, slowly maneuvering through the high, thorny brush and over deep cavities of mud and muck, when the train came to a sudden stop.
Virginia kneeled, placed her hand to the ground, and looked back at the others. “It’s gone,” she said, her voice soft and sprinkled with uncertainty.
A puzzled look crept on to Isaac’s face. “What’s gone?”
Virginia turned
her head back and gazed at the large weeds standing upright many feet high in front of her. She sifted through the weeds, pushing them apart from top to bottom, and then plunged her hand into a foot of chunky water at the roots. What was going on here? None of this was familiar at all. Everything was vastly different than she had remembered. These weeds were not living and growing in a foot of rainwater dropped recently; this water had been here for quite some time. The water had an uncharacteristic weight to it, lined in spots with thick clumps of algae.
Virginia rose to her feet, still trying to peer through an impenetrable layer of fog that over much time had proven to be such a charming and resilient foe. “The path is gone.”
Isaac took a few small steps forward and nudged himself next to Simmons. “So, what do you think we should do? Can we continue forward, path or no path?”
“I think if we continue forward we’ll be blinded by the fog. We could find ourselves traveling through areas most seeing men wouldn’t dare go. I think this could be swamp water. Worse yet, I'm beginning to think the mansion could be much further than any of us realize.”
Virginia focused on Isaac as she spilled the bad news. The expression on his face told the story of a man who hung on to hope by a burning thread. His grip slipped, grew weaker by the moment, and the ashes began to pile up on him from above. Soon he would be buried in the ashes.
“But we've made it this far,” said Virginia. “Just stay very close to one another.”
The group strayed off the path, still one behind the other, but much closer than before. Virginia decided it might help if they held hands to keep from getting separated, and no matter what happened along the way, try not to let go. The weeds stood chest high. Virginia pushed them apart and cleared the way for the other’s to follow. Being the leader meant she had to be extra careful, not only for her own safety, but for the safety of those following directly behind her as well. One wrong step and it could mean trouble for all three of them. Thus, she took her time carefully pacing each movement as the whole of her ankles drowned over and over again in thick, swampy water.
The Gift of Illusion: A Thriller Page 16