Children of the Dark

by Jonathan Janz

  Straight ahead, the slender trunk of a sapling tremored. As if someone had just rushed past.

  I darted toward it, and as I did I distinguished a small gap in the next thicket of pine trees. Whoever it was had likely taken Kylie Ann in there. Or through there. Either way, I was gaining on them. The abductor was encumbered with a tall, well-built young woman. I only had to worry about myself. Feeling a surge of confidence, I bolted into the clearing and had taken three long strides when something cracked me on the bridge of the nose. My feet flew out from under me, and I struck the ground on my back. I thought for a moment I’d run straight into a sturdy branch, but then, through my grogginess, I glimpsed something that froze my blood.

  Kylie Ann’s panic-stricken face.

  Or her eyes rather, which were vast moons.

  Her mouth was covered with a huge, veined hand.

  My vision blurred, doubled, but I could still make out the large figure hefting her over its shoulder and disappearing into the darkness. The hand removed from her mouth, Kylie Ann let loose with a strident wail. My teeth gritted, I made to rise, but I hadn’t gotten halfway to my feet before the world tilted wildly, and I landed on my side. I had to get to Kylie Ann, had to save her. But my knees buckled again, my strength failing. Something wet pattered onto my hand, and looking down, I realized my nose was bleeding.

  Holy shit, I thought. Not bleeding. Gushing.

  I’d never had a nosebleed before, and the sight of all that blood made me woozy. The taste of it was hot and coppery. Whoever it was had really nailed me.

  I tried to gain my feet again, but I fared even worse this time.

  “Will!” a voice yelled. “Jesus, man, what happened to you?”

  It was Chris, I realized. Chris and the others.

  A hand touched my back. “Dude, you’re bleeding all over the place.”

  “No kidding,” I grunted.

  Chris helped me to a sitting position. Then he took his shirt off and held it to my spraying nose.

  “Does it hurt?” Barley asked.

  I moaned.

  A face appeared in my blurred vision, and it took me several moments to recognize who it was.

  “Did he hurt you anywhere else?” Mia asked. “He didn’t stab you or anything, did he?”

  I realized with faint amusement that she was patting down my torso, my back, scouring my body for wounds.

  I shook my head. “Just the nose.”

  “Take it easy, man,” Chris said. “Take it easy. You’re safe now.”

  “What about Kylie Ann?” Rebecca asked.

  “Gone,” I whispered.

  There was a moment of heavy silence.

  “She’s gone,” I said.

  PART TWO

  MONSTERS

  Chapter Six

  Badgered by the Cops and Attacked by a Black Mustang

  Everybody was so freaked out about Kylie Ann’s abduction that we got in very little trouble for sneaking out of the house.

  At least at first.

  At first the only thing we had to deal with was the police, an experience that was the exact opposite of what I expected it to be. I suspect this was because my only knowledge of police procedure came from movies and TV. I expected them to separate us into stark interrogation rooms with two-way mirrors and a lot of cigarette smoke. In movies the smoke was so thick you could barely see the angry faces glowering at you from across the table. But in Shadeland they apparently did things differently.

  I sat in front of Bryce Cavanaugh’s desk studying the chief’s face. His hair wasn’t gray exactly, but had rather gone that bluish black non-color that guys in their forties sometimes had. His eyes, I noticed, were a curious brown, very light and larger than average. Cavanaugh resembled an aging meerkat, only without the cuteness factor.

  Mia waited about ten feet away, right across from one of Cavanaugh’s deputies, a simpleton named Terry Schwarber. Terry was only twenty-six or twenty-seven, and was known to have been quite a hellraiser until a year ago when he joined the force. Now he was striving to act professional, but this new persona just didn’t fit him. Schwarber had grown a mustache in order to appear older, but it looked fake, like something he’d glued on before leaving the house.

  Of course, I couldn’t be too critical of Schwarber’s appearance. With the twin wads of cotton crammed up my nostrils, I looked pretty absurd myself.

  Police Chief Cavanaugh hadn’t started with me yet—he’d talked to Chris and Rebecca first, probably because their parents were anxious to get them home. Rebecca was frantic with terror, and though she never spoke the name aloud, I could tell the incident was dredging up all sorts of feelings about her baby sister. Kylie Ann’s abduction wasn’t like losing Emmylou again, but I suspect some of the old guilt Rebecca felt was resurfacing.

  Barley came next. Cavanaugh’s tone this time wasn’t as polite, but it never crossed over into all-out hostility either. After talking to Barley, Cavanaugh had escorted him out, and I could see through the window the chief talking to Barley’s dad. Probably angling for a good price on honey ham.

  I heard Schwarber say to Mia, “How come you ladies were in the woods in the first place? Your mom said you were grounded.”

  I turned and listened.

  “My mom didn’t say that,” Mia answered. “You must be thinking of Kylie Ann.”

  Schwarber frowned.

  “The girl who was kidnapped?” Mia prompted.

  Schwarber started. “Oh, I know that, I know that. What I meant was,” and here he jerked a thumb at me, “didn’t these tools get you in trouble once already?”

  Mia’s expression was dignified. To me she looked and sounded like a person twice her age. Certainly someone more mature than Terry Schwarber. “My mom and dad weren’t happy about the way we left Rebecca’s without asking, but it wasn’t like we were out vandalizing people’s houses. Or spray painting their windows.”

  Schwarber coughed loudly, his face reddening. As a teenager, he had been notorious for decorating his neighbors’ windows with red spray paint.

  I swallowed my lips to avoid smiling.

  Schwarber cleared his throat. “Well anyway, I’d think you would’ve avoided bad influences.”

  “Nobody influenced me,” Mia said. “I wanted to see Will, so I did. And he’s not bad.” She looked at me. “He’s the opposite of bad.”

  It was my turn to blush. I resisted the urge to do cartwheels around the office.

  Schwarber gave me a sour glance. “Believe me, the guys you’re interested in now won’t be the same guys you’re interested in later on.”

  Mia said, “I don’t think who I’m interested in is any of your business, Deputy Schwarber.” She gestured toward her face. “And my eyes are up here.”

  Schwarber went a deeper shade of crimson.

  At that point Police Chief Cavanaugh sauntered through the door. As he moved past Mia, he placed his hand on her bare shoulder in a way I didn’t like. I know it sounds like I’m being possessive, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t imagining it. More than once as I waited my turn to talk to the cops, I noticed Cavanaugh and Schwarber casting glances at Mia that lingered for much longer than I thought was appropriate. It had something to do, I suspected, with the air of maturity that attended her like a visible aura. Rebecca was pretty too, but it was the kind of pretty you’d expect from a fifteen-year-old. Mia, on the other hand, possessed an exotic quality that got men’s attention whether they were her age or old enough to be her father. It made me want to protect her, of course, but more than that it made me want to kick someone’s ass.

  That wasn’t the healthiest way for me to feel, given my current situation.

  Cavanaugh eased down into his black swiveling chair across the desk from me. He arranged his nameplate, which was a block of wood with a burnished gold insert. POLICE CHIEF BRYCE P. CAVANAUGH, it read. I wondered what the P. stood for. Pedophile, maybe.

  He adjusted his big calendar blotter, then he interlaced his fingers and favored
me with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “So you’re the big hero.”

  I shrugged. “My name is Will Burgess.”

  “I know who you are. Your little sister’s in the same class as my Annabelle.”

  I realized with a sinking feeling that I’d heard of Annabelle. Peach had never told me the girl’s last name, but for several months she’d been complaining about an Annabelle who’d been making fun of her clothes, her pigtails, the way she talked. It had gotten so bad that Peach didn’t want to go to school anymore, and I’m sorry, but that shouldn’t happen to any kid, especially a freaking kindergartner. I’d told my mom about it dozens of times, but she’d always had the same answer: “Things like these have a way of working themselves out.”

  Which meant Peach was going to get bullied and no one was going to stick up for her.

  Something must’ve shown in my face because Cavanaugh’s grin widened. “Annabelle tells us that Audra doesn’t get on well with other kids.”

  “It’s Audrey,” I said, “and she prefers to go by Peach.”

  He made a pained face. “Never a good idea to name a kid after a piece of fruit.”

  “Furthermore,” I said, my voice tightening, “Peach gets on fine with other kids. The ones who aren’t nasty.”

  I expected a rise out of the chief then, but he only made a vague gesture. “Well, kids tend to weed each other out that way. What’s it called? Self-selection?”

  “I call it bad parenting.”

  Cavanaugh’s grin evaporated. He glanced askance, and following his gaze, I realized that Schwarber and Mia were both watching us. Mia looked delighted.

  Perhaps sensing he’d been shown up by a kid, Cavanaugh laughed what I assumed was meant to be a nonchalant laugh. “Are you comfortable, Miss?” he asked Mia.

  Mia glanced at me, her eyes twinkling a little. “As long as Will’s here.”

  Cavanaugh looked at Schwarber. “Then I assume you’re ready to continue your discussion with her?”

  Schwarber frowned at the chief, his already low IQ dropping about twenty points.

  I said, “He means he wants you to stop eavesdropping.”

  Schwarber gave another of those pitiful little jolts and pretended to arrange the objects on his desk. “Yeah, well…where were we?”

  I looked at the chief, who was anything but amused.

  “Did you get a good look at him?” he asked.

  I sobered, remembering why I was here: Kylie Ann.

  “I didn’t see him,” I said. “Well, I saw a shape, but it was sort of blurry. And it was dark.”

  “So it could have been anybody.”

  “Well, it—”

  “Or nobody.”

  I’m afraid my face went blank. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, if you didn’t see who it was, how do you know she was kidnapped?”

  “I saw her dragged off the trail.”

  “By who?”

  “I told you, I don’t—”

  “Or maybe you were being a little too forward and the Lubeck girl was trying to get away from you.”

  I felt like he’d kicked me in the gut.

  Mia’s voice was aghast. “Will was with me, he wasn’t anywhere near—”

  “Deputy Schwarber,” Cavanaugh interrupted, “why don’t you escort Miss Samuels to the waiting area. I’m sure her folks are eager to have her back.”

  Mia stalked toward the chief, her expression livid. “I want to know what you’re implying.”

  Cavanaugh ignored her. “Terry?”

  Like a trained monkey, Schwarber leapt to his feet and hurried over to Mia. He started to take her by the arm, but she ripped her arm away with a force that shocked me. “Don’t touch me!” she snarled. She rounded on Cavanaugh. “You can’t ignore what happened tonight, and you’re damn well not going to blame Will just because he doesn’t have anyone here to stick up for him.”

  It’s hard to explain my feelings at these words. On one hand, I was a little moved by the way she was defending me. I couldn’t remember anyone other than Chris caring enough to take my side in anything. But at the same time I felt a deep and burning shame, like I was some charity case.

  Cavanaugh wore a patient smile as he rose and ushered Mia toward the door.

  But to my astonishment, Mia was not to be put off. “Don’t you touch me either!”

  I spotted Mia’s parents in the waiting area, which was little more than a glassed-in foyer. Her mom, from whom she obviously got her stunning looks, was wringing her hands in worry. Mia’s dad, who was short and bald and obviously a lot older than Mia’s mom, looked just as scared.

  I reached out and took Mia’s hand. Her head jerked toward me, and for a moment, I glimpsed the ferocity she’d been directing toward Cavanaugh and his deputy. Then her expression softened.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “They know I didn’t do anything to Kylie Ann. Isn’t that right, Chief Cavanaugh?”

  He looked like he’d swallowed something bitter. I could tell he wanted to argue, but he also knew if he did, he’d have Mia on his hands, which was roughly akin to wrestling a surly mountain lion. He said, “Miss Samuels, we merely want to talk to Mr. Burgess. There’s nothing for you to fret about.”

  That wasn’t exactly reassuring, I reflected, but it seemed to placate Mia somewhat. She made to leave with her parents, but before she did she said, “Don’t let them take advantage of you, Will.”

  I smiled, thinking I’d marry her right then if I could. “Don’t worry. I can handle them.”

  Schwarber gave me a freezing look, but the chief proceeded with the Samuels family out the door. For nearly a minute, Schwarber and I sat in uncomfortable silence. I considered asking him how he got his mustache so perfectly straight, but figured he wouldn’t feel like sharing his grooming secrets. Finally, Cavanaugh reentered and resumed his position across from me.

  “Now,” he said, “how about we cut the bullshit, and you tell me exactly what happened in those woods?”

  ¨

  As I had when they first picked us up, I went through the entire story from beginning to end, leaving nothing out. I even included a few details about my interactions with Mia, though they were none of Cavanaugh’s business. Schwarber slouched a few feet away from the chief, a superior look on the deputy’s face. He was a lot cockier with Cavanaugh’s authority to back him up, though his questions weren’t any more intelligent.

  Schwarber said, “I’m not sure I’m understanding your explanation.”

  I looked at him. “Where are you getting lost?”

  He spread his hands as if it were obvious. “Why didn’t you stop the guy?”

  “Are you really this stupid?”

  He sat forward, “Look, you little piss ant, I don’t need your—”

  “What Terry means,” Cavanaugh said, “is your story doesn’t add up. If you saw where the kidnapper took the Lubeck girl, why didn’t you do anything to stop him?”

  “I did do something. Didn’t Chris and the others tell you?”

  “They told us the same crap you’re telling us. That doesn’t make it true.”

  “So we’re all lying?”

  He shrugged. “You guys get together, come up with some B.S. story...”

  “Kids do it all the time,” Schwarber said.

  I nodded. “You’d know, of course.”

  Schwarber scowled at me.

  “Okay,” the chief said, enumerating his points on his fingers. “You witnessed her being taken, you gave chase. You lost sight of them, then you followed them into a thicket. But before you could save Miss Lubeck, something struck you in the face.”

  “That’s right.”

  He made a clucking sound. “Pretty far-fetched.”

  I gestured to the ridiculous white cotton balls crammed up my nose. “You think I punched myself?”

  “Why’d you give up then? Cavanaugh asked.

  “I told you, I was dizzy. I had blood gushing out—”

  “I know what you told us,�
� Cavanaugh snarled. “What I want to know is why you didn’t get off your ass and save that girl from this so-called attacker?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you keep saying ‘so-called’?”

  “Because we haven’t found one sign of this supposed perpetrator.”

  “What about the state police?”

  “The state police have got nothin’ to do with this,” Schwarber interjected. “This is a local matter.”

  Flabbergasted, I looked from one cop to the other. “You haven’t told anybody? What about an amber alert?”

  Cavanaugh said, “My men are on it as we speak. Bill Stuckey and his crew have been combing the area for the past two hours, and they’ve not found a trace of evidence to support your story.”

  “It isn’t just my story,” I said. “Four other people verified it. What the hell?”

  “Watch your tongue, boy,” Cavanaugh said, his eyes deadly cold.

  But my wrath had come unbottled, and there was no way to stopper it again. “‘Boy’?” I said. “I thought they only talked like that in shitty movies.”

  “You need to show some respect for this office.”

  “This office?” I said, looking around. “Cheap wooden paneling and green paint straight out of the 1950s? This place is a joke, just like you.” I nodded at Schwarber. “And you. Listen, that’s the ugliest mustache I’ve ever seen. It looks like you glued a black pipe cleaner to your lip.”

  Schwarber looked furious enough to slug me then. He might have, if the front door hadn’t opened. My stomach sank.

  Bill Stuckey trudged toward us, his huge gut and barrel chest reminding me of an immense ocean barge. His craggy face was huge too, like some college mascot’s. Like Cavanaugh, Stuckey was in his forties, but unlike Cavanaugh, Stuckey had never been to college. In fact, I’d be surprised if Stuckey had graduated from high school. From all the stories I’d heard, the guy made Terry Schwarber look like a neurosurgeon.

  “Any luck, Bill?” Cavanaugh asked.

  Rather than answering, Stuckey halted beside me, his crotch about an inch from my face. He smelled like mushrooms and old sweat. “The kid change his story yet?” Stuckey drawled.