Carnival of Stone: A Novella (The Soren Chase Series)

by Rob Blackwell

  Soren reappeared after a moment, shaking his head.

  “Nobody’s here,” he said.

  “No statues either?”

  “No,” he replied. “Let’s keep looking.”

  But it was the same story in the hardware store and elsewhere. There were signs that people had left in a hurry, including an overturned table in one of the restaurants, complete with broken dishes and spilled food and drinks on the floor. But there was no sign of any people or their remains. Glen watched Soren pick up a phone on the restaurant counter and frown.

  “Phone line is dead,” he said.

  They walked out and into the food mart next door.

  “God, this is creepy,” Glen said. “How did three hundred people just disappear?”

  “Wrong question,” Soren said.

  “Oh, pray tell, master of all things, what question should I have asked?” Glen asked.

  He was scared and feeling in over his head, but the snippy way in which Soren had responded irritated him. He hoped Soren wouldn’t lord Glen’s ignorance over him for the rest of the case.

  Soren gave him a cold look. Or at least he assumed it was cold since he couldn’t see his eyes behind the damned sunglasses.

  “These people didn’t disappear,” Soren said. “They fled. The question is where.”

  “Oh come on, that’s what I meant,” Glen said.

  “Then say what you mean,” Soren replied.

  “What crawled up your ass and died? Other than your personality and sense of humor.”

  Soren bit his lower lip and seemed to be weighing how to respond.

  “You think I’m just being an asshole,” Soren said. “I’m not. This is how supernatural stuff becomes unexplainable. People aren’t precise. There are cases where whole towns disappear abruptly, but this isn’t one of those. But if you survive this and describe it to people, and you say ‘everyone disappeared’ they could get the wrong idea. They think folks just vanished into thin air instead of fleeing for their lives. And the story, when it’s retold, gets changed and then maybe somebody else takes a short cut when they’re describing it and it changes again. And again. Until pretty soon it’s unrecognizable from what actually happened.”

  “Who cares?” Glen asked.

  “Because the story changes from something that actually occurred into something that couldn’t possibly occur,” Soren said. “It becomes a myth or a legend and nobody believes it anymore, when it’s actually true. Or worse, anybody doing investigative work starts looking for the wrong thing.”

  “Okay, okay,” Glen said, as they passed another aisle crammed with food.

  Soren looked at him again, but this time not unkindly.

  “I know I’m being anal,” Soren said. “It’s just that if you want to be an investigator, you have to learn this. Your uncle gave me this lecture our first time out.”

  “I have to admit, you sounded a bit like him when you said it,” Glen said.

  “Humans distort things; it’s in our nature,” Soren said. “But an investigator can’t. Because eventually, doing that is going to get you or someone else killed. You don’t want to be facing down a monster to find out it doesn’t die like all the legends say it should because some asshole wasn’t precise enough in describing it.”

  “Got it,” Glen said. “Really.”

  Soren opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the sound of a crash nearby. He was off in a flash, sprinting down the aisle and through a door at the back. Glen had barely processed what happened before Soren was gone. He hurried to catch up.

  He pushed open the door that read “employees only” and entered a storeroom that was even darker than the store was. He saw Soren’s silhouette in front of him, moving cautiously forward with his gun held out.

  The room was packed with cans and other goods. Glen could barely make out a stack of them that had just spilled on the ground. He wondered who—or what—had made that happen.

  There was another sound from the back of the room and Soren again darted forward, leaving Glen alone. He couldn’t see what was happening, but he heard sounds of a struggle. He rushed to the back of the room and found Soren standing over a body. For a split second, he thought it was dead or another statue, but then he heard it whimper.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” a female voice said.

  Chapter Seven

  Soren turned back to Glen.

  “Open the back door,” he said.

  Glen nodded and walked in the dark, tripping over another collection of cans. They fell to the floor with a loud crash that made him jump. He stepped around them and found the door to the outside, swinging it open and letting bright sunlight stream inside.

  A young woman sat cowering on the floor, looking up at Soren in abject terror. Soren lowered the gun when he saw her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Glen propped the back door open and came back to the woman on the floor, extending his hand to her. The woman tentatively took Glen’s hand and he helped her up. The three of them walked outside into a small parking lot behind the food mart.

  “You okay?” Glen said, echoing Soren, but he felt stupid for asking.

  She didn’t look okay. Her face was covered in dirt, her lower lip looked bruised and she was shaking. Her jeans were smudged with mud and dark rust-colored stains that Glen recognized as blood. Her University of Virginia t-shirt was torn in several places and her blond hair was matted, looking like it hadn’t been washed in several days. Her hazel eyes darted from Glen to Soren.

  “Did you see it?” she asked. “Is it out there?”

  She began looking all around them as if waiting for something to jump out at her. Given the fact that an entire town seemed to have recently fled, Glen supposed that was a reasonable worry.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” she said.

  Soren glanced at Glen uneasily.

  “Slow down,” he said. “Did we see what?”

  “That... thing,” she said. “It attacked the camp. It attacked the town. It just...”

  She stopped talking, still looking all around her.

  “What did you see?” Soren asked.

  “Is it here?” she asked again, panic in her voice.

  Soren grabbed her by the arms.

  “I need you to look at me,” he said.

  His voice was calm, even soothing. It took a moment, but the woman visibly relaxed.

  “Tell me your name,” Soren said.

  “Emily,” she said, haltingly. “Emily Brunswick.”

  “Okay, Emily,” Soren said. “Take it easy. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

  Glen wasn’t so sure about that. In fact, he was pretty positive that was a lie. Beyond the unlucky gas station mechanic, he didn’t know what the hell had happened to these people, but he was sure they weren’t holed up somewhere playing bingo.

  Soren’s reassurances appeared to calm Emily, however. She took a series of deep breaths and stared at Soren with large, round eyes.

  “I tried to warn them,” she said. “They didn’t believe me until it was too late. When they heard it, they ran.”

  “Heard what?”

  “The hissing,” Emily said. “They were everywhere.”

  Glen shared another look with Soren.

  “They?” Soren asked.

  “Snakes,” Emily said. “Thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands, I don’t know. They came flooding into the town like a Biblical plague. They overran it.”

  Whatever Glen had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t this. They had come hunting a monster, singular. Maybe it was a giant snake with a rooster head or maybe it looked like Medusa, but they had assumed it was just one thing. It appeared they were wrong.

  “What happened?” Soren asked.

  “People ran,” she said. “I don’t know where they went, I was too scared. The snakes slithered all over the place and I just couldn’t move. I hate snakes. I stayed here while they crawled over me. I thought they�
��d bite me, but they just kept going.”

  Glen shivered. He didn’t have a phobia of snakes, but it didn’t mean he wanted to encounter a horde of them.

  “And the snakes killed everybody?” Glen asked.

  “No,” she said. “There’s something else. Something bigger.”

  Glen felt his mouth go dry. He rubbed his hand across his chin.

  “Did you see it?” Soren asked.

  Emily just shook her head.

  “No, but I heard it,” she said. “It has a much larger hiss and I think... I think the snakes listen to it. They seem to go where it directs them.”

  Soren nodded as if this were a perfectly sane thing to say.

  “Well of course the snakes follow its orders,” Glen said. “Cause I was thinking that this couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

  He looked up and down the street but saw no signs of any snakes or anything else.

  “Any idea where they went?” Glen asked.

  Emily looked away as if lost in thought.

  “No,” she said after a moment. “I’ve been here for two days. I’ve been too scared to go anywhere. I’ve heard the big thing go by a few times. I think... I think it might be looking for me.”

  “You stayed in there the whole time?” Soren asked.

  “I’ve moved around some,” she said. “But not too much. I think it’s waiting for me to make some kind of noise.”

  Glen noticed that Soren looked up the hill. He followed his glance but saw nothing remarkable. The town seemed completely still.

  “I don’t want to wait here long then,” Soren said. “But can I ask a couple questions first? Are you from Hilltop?”

  Emily looked up at him and rubbed her grimy face again.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I came with my professor. We were on a project, trying to locate some missing art. I came back to camp after getting supplies and found some of the other students were...” She paused and seemed to gulp down a sob. “You’re not going to believe me,” she said.

  “Try us. You’d be surprised what we believe,” Glen replied.

  “They were stone,” she said. “There were 12 of us, but at least half of them were stone. Two others were worse.”

  “How can you be worse than turned to stone?” Glen asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

  Emily gestured to her jeans.

  “They were torn in half,” she said. “I slipped in their blood.”

  “Okay, good point,” Glen said. “That’s worse.”

  “Glen, don’t be so flippant about this,” Soren said. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying that, but she’s been through a lot.”

  “Sorry. What about Jay? Did you see him?”

  For the first time, Emily’s eyes registered something other than fear and confusion.

  “You know Jay?” she asked.

  “I’m an old friend of his,” Glen said.

  Glen remembered that Jay had specifically mentioned an “Emily” on the voicemail. He felt dumb for not thinking of it sooner.

  “You’re his girlfriend?” he asked.

  Emily nodded.

  “I haven’t seen him,” she said. “I tried looking for him, but the snakes... I was so scared. I’m such a coward.”

  Glen put a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “Could you tell us a little more about what happened?” Soren asked. “You came with a professor. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily said. “The last I saw, Professor Peterson was going into the mine where we were digging. He said he was checking something out. But that was before the snakes or the... the thing appeared.”

  “A mine? You were digging in a mine?” Soren asked.

  Emily nodded her head.

  “That’s where Andy, um, my professor thought the art was lost,” she said. “He was convinced it had been purposely buried in an abandoned mine.”

  “Where is it?” Soren asked.

  “About four miles up an old access road,” she said.

  Glen didn’t know what mine she was talking about, but Soren appeared anxious to get moving. He hadn’t known him that long, but he watched the way he clenched and unclenched his hands. He was nervous about something.

  “We need to get out there and check it out,” Soren said.

  Emily appeared surprised and then looked at Soren in horror.

  “Are you insane?” she said. “Aren’t we leaving? We need to get out of here now. Fast, before that thing comes back.”

  Glen patted her shoulder again, but she angrily brushed it aside.

  “How did you end up here?” Emily asked. “I thought you were here to rescue us. But you’re not, are you?”

  “We’re the cavalry,” Soren replied.

  Glen thought he made it sound totally sincere as if two guys—one with a gun and the other with a mirror tucked in his pocket—were enough to take on whatever was plaguing this town. However good it sounded, however, Emily didn’t look like she bought it.

  Glen dug his cell phone and was going to tell her to call the police. When he’d received the voicemail from Jay, that’s what he’d wanted to do. But Terry had insisted they shouldn’t.

  “It will just get the police killed,” Terry had said.

  But Terry wasn’t here and this woman needed help. When he turned on his phone, however, he saw a “no service” light. That should have been impossible. They’d had service at the gas station, which wasn’t far away.

  “My phone is out,” he said.

  “We had problems getting cell service out here,” Emily said. “Even before the... whatever it was... showed up. It’s intermittent.”

  “Yet somehow Jay was able to make a call,” Soren said.

  “He called you?” Emily said. “When?”

  “Two days ago,” Glen said. “He said he needed help. We got here as soon as we could.”

  “He probably used the satellite phone then,” Emily said. “I tried to find it, but someone had taken it. Maybe it was Jay. Maybe he’s still alive.”

  Her voice didn’t sound that hopeful.

  “Tell you what,” Soren said. “Why don’t you stay here while Glen and I check out the rest of the town? I’ll try and find you some keys and a car so you can get off the mountain and get some more help.”

  Emily shook her head violently.

  “No way,” she said. “Do you know what it’s been like for the past two days? I’m not hiding here anymore; I’m coming with you.”

  “Not a great idea,” Soren said. “We’re trying to find the creature, whatever it is.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Did you listen to what I said? Those snakes listen to it. You’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” Soren said. “I’ve seen a lot of weird things.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, and she looked at Glen as if he were the sane one.

  “I’m the guy who’s going to kill whatever did this,” Soren replied.

  He said it with such calm assurance that Glen immediately believed him. Glen wasn’t sure he liked Soren, but he admired his confidence, even if it was almost sure to get them both killed.

  “You’re nuts,” Emily whispered.

  “Also a distinct possibility,” Soren said cheerily. “It’s a great reason to stay here while we work this out.”

  “No,” Emily said. “I’ve hated being alone through this. I should have run with the rest of them.”

  “Okay,” Soren said. “Just try and be careful as we explore the area. I want to see if we can find any survivors, maybe someone who’s actually seen what we’re dealing with.”

  “What’s your plan when you find it?” Emily asked.

  Soren gestured with the gun.

  “Well, I was going to shoot it several times and see what happens,” he said. “You’d be surprised how often it gets the job done.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?” Emily asked.

 
; Glen pulled the mirror from his pocket.

  “What’s that supposed to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Glen replied. “But it beats carrying around a weasel.”

  Emily looked confused and it occurred to Glen he had done nothing to convince her that he was less crazy than Soren.

  “I can explain,” he said weakly.

  “Later,” Soren said. “We need to get moving.”

  “Where?” Glen asked. “You want to go house by house to find survivors?”

  “I don’t think we need to,” Soren said. “I think I know where everybody went.”

  He looked around the parking lot and up the hill.

  “Where’s that?” Glen asked.

  “Tell me, if you were being attacked by a bunch of snakes and something else you didn’t understand, where would you go?”

  Glen followed Soren’s gaze up the hill to the white steeple that rose far above the town.

  “You’d go someplace you feel safe,” Glen said.

  Soren nodded.

  “You’d go to church.”

  Chapter Eight

  The church was packed with people, but none of them were moving.

  Dozens of statues filled the pews, all of them turned toward the entrance to the church with looks of horror, fear and disbelief permanently etched on their faces.

  “Good God,” Glen said.

  Soren, Glen and Emily had found the church’s doorway smashed to pieces, ripped apart by some large force. Shards of wood and bits of plaster had buried themselves in the far wall.

  Soren walked among the statues, stopping occasionally to touch the stone. Like the mechanic’s statue, these felt strangely warm to the touch.

  The sculptures themselves were exquisite. Soren stood in front of one of a woman and a child. He could see her wavy hair falling in single strands across her face. Her mouth was caught in a large “O” of surprise and her eyes registered an expression Soren thought was pure panic. The baby in her hands was wrapped tightly in a swaddling blanket, its edges coming loose ever so slightly. The baby’s eyes—whether boy or girl, Soren couldn’t tell—also looked to the church entrance. Unlike all the others, there was no fear in its eyes, just something that might have been mild curiosity.