by Tim Downs
“Yes, I’ve noticed that—it’s probably because they don’t have pockets.” Nick slowly leaned forward on the table and looked at each of them one by one. “Come on—do you mean to tell me that not one of you has ever snuck up there and climbed that fence just to take a look around? Just so you could come back and tell your buddies you did it? Just to feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck—to feel like you’re alive?”
No one answered.
Nick turned to the football player and quickly glanced down at the name embroidered on his letter jacket: Biff. Nick almost winced—no wonder the kid was overcompensating.
Nick looked him directly in the eye. “Not even you, Biff ?”
“Me? Why me?”
“Toughness—courage—guts.”
“This is different,” Biff said.
“Why, Biff—I believe you’re afraid.”
Biff glared back. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Then take me up there,” Nick said.
“What?”
“Take me up there. We’ll climb that fence and we’ll find that witch and we’ll talk to her. We’ll do something that nobody else in this whole town has the guts to do—and when we get back, you’ll be a legend.”
Biff sat frozen with his eyes as wide as saucers—and then he shook his head. “I’m not going looking for any witch,” he said. “That’s just plain crazy—that’s askin’ for trouble.”
Nick shrugged and slowly rose from his chair. “It was worth a try,” he said, “but if you won’t do it, you won’t do it. Thanks for the help with the pizza, everybody; nice to meet you, and good luck with your fall season. Oh, that reminds me—can somebody tell me how to get to Front Royal?”
“Why do you want to go to Front Royal?”
“I want to meet their football team,” Nick said, looking back at Biff again. “Maybe somebody in Front Royal has got more guts than you do.”
Nick stared at Biff and waited—and so did everyone else.
The boy stood up with clenched fists. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll take you up there, but only to show you that I’m not afraid.”
“I’ll meet you outside in five minutes,” Nick said, and started for the door.
“What if we can’t find her?” Biff called after him.
Nick turned and smiled. “We’ll find her—there’s a full moon.”
5
Nick and Biff stood in front of an eight-foot chain-link fence, illuminated by the headlights of Biff ’s Ford F-150. The pavement had turned to gravel half a mile back down the road; it disappeared here behind a double gate wrapped with a thick chain and sealed with a rusted padlock. Nick jerked hard on the padlock, but it held. He put his fingers through the links of the fence and shook it. There was a sign on the gate that warned in large red letters: POSTED: NO HUNTING, NO TRESPASSING. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED.
“So this is it?” Nick said, glancing over at Biff.
The boy’s eyes looked as wide as the headlights. “This is her lair,” he whispered.
“Well, we can’t open this gate. Shut off your headlights—let’s see if we can find another way in.”
Biff looked at him. “Shut off the lights? Do we have to?”
“If you want to have a battery left when we get back. C’mon, it’s a clear night—we should have plenty of light.”
“I told you I’d bring you up here—that’s all I said I’d do.”
“You said you’d take me to see the witch. I don’t see any witch, do you?”
“I don’t see what you need me for.”
“Look—I’m a total stranger here, but you’re a local. You said it yourself: Everybody knows everybody in a town this size. Even if you don’t know the witch, the witch might recognize you. I figure I might get a warmer reception if I bring a familiar face along—okay?”
Biff reluctantly switched off his headlights, and the entire area went black. As Nick’s eyes slowly adjusted, shapes and forms began to emerge from a sea of deep shadows. The moon was a brilliant silver disk on the far horizon, glowing through the tops of the trees and silhouetting dead limbs like streaks of black lightning. The woods were dominated by towering old beech trees, with their bark stripped down from the tops until they resembled craggy old hands with the skin flayed back to the knuckles.
Nick walked along the fence, unconsciously running his hand along the links as he went. Suddenly his hand hit something soft and furry; he stopped abruptly and Biff bumped into him from behind.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s something on the fence.”
“What is it?”
Nick adjusted his glasses and took a closer look. It was a dead squirrel, stretched out and tied to the fence with long strands of field grass twisted into bundles. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. That’s a sign from the witch—it means ‘Keep out! Go back!’”
“Maybe she just doesn’t like squirrels.”
“Stop kidding around, mister.”
“Lighten up, will you? It’s just a dead squirrel. Let’s keep going.”
Twenty yards farther on Nick felt another soft lump. This time it was a blackbird, tied to the fence by the neck and tail, with a strip of scarlet ribbon wound around its beak.
“I’m telling you, that’s a sign,” Biff said.
“I think you’re right,” Nick said. “It means ‘Are you two coming in or not?’ Let’s climb over here—give me a lift.”
“Climb over? You still want to go in? Are you nuts?”
Nick let out an impatient groan. “Look, we didn’t come all the way up here just to look at a fence. What are you going to do, go back to Endor and tell all your friends that you went up to see the witch but a squirrel scared you off ?”
“They don’t have to know,” Biff grumbled.
“Yes they do, because I’ll tell them. Now we’re going to climb this fence and we’re going to find that witch, and tomorrow you’re going to tell all your friends that you’re the biggest stud in the whole Shenandoah Valley—and I’m going to back you up. Now are you coming or not?”
Biff scowled and formed a stirrup with his hands. Nick slipped his right foot into the stirrup and pushed upward, grabbing the top of the fence and pulling himself up. He swung one leg over the top, then the other; he lowered himself until he hung by his arms, then dropped to the ground on the other side. Biff followed close behind.
They started forward through the woods, walking in the direction of the moon.
“How do we know where we’re going?” Biff asked.
“We don’t—but we’re walking parallel to that road, so sooner or later we have to run into something.”
After a few minutes the woods closed up behind them. Biff kept looking back nervously in the direction of the fence. “We’re lost. We’ll never find our way back.”
“There’s a full moon,” Nick said. “How big a night-light do you need?”
They walked on for several minutes, but there was no sign of a house or building of any kind—no warm glow from a kitchen window, no welcoming flicker of firelight, not even the stark blue glare of a utility light on a pole or an outbuilding. The woods were thick and it was dark all around them, except for the tops of tall brush and trees tipped silver by the moon.
Nick was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. If the witch really did own the whole top of the mountain, her house could be set back miles from the gate. But there was no sense thinking about it now; they’d come this far, and they might as well go on.
“What was that?” Biff said suddenly.
“What?”
“Listen—I heard something—over there!”
Nick turned to his left and listened; now he heard it too—footsteps, padding softly somewhere in the darkness.
“Something’s following us!” Biff whispered.
“Relax,” Nick said. “Footsteps always sound louder in the woods. It’s probably just a . . . a . . .”
> “A what?”
“How should I know? I’m an entomologist. It’s probably just something small that sounds big.”
“Why didn’t you bring a flashlight?”
Why didn’t I bring a kid with a backbone? “Take it easy—let’s just keep moving.”
But the footsteps kept getting closer and louder.
Then Nick noticed something else: There were two more sets of footsteps following them—one on their right, and one directly behind.
“Do you hear that?” Biff whispered.
“I hear it,” Nick said. “Probably just three small things that sound big.”
“You think so?”
“No—but it sounds reassuring right about now.”
Nick caught a glimpse of movement on his left. He turned and stared hard into the darkness. He could see it now—he could make out the form of some large animal stalking them with its head slung low.
“Uh-oh,” Nick said. “It’s a big thing that sounds big.”
“What is that thing?”
“I’m not sure, but it looks like some kind of dog—a very large one.”
The creature drew steadily closer until it was finally in full view. It was the largest dog Nick had ever seen—not tall and lean like a Great Dane, but thick and solid with paws the size of toilet plungers and shoulders that shifted like a lion’s as it walked. Its fur was black or very dark brown—it was impossible to tell in the deep shadows. Its ears were plastered back along its head and its tail hung down like a whip about to lash. But the most impressive thing about the animal was its head: It was enormous, boxlike, with great drooping jowls and a sagging brow that almost covered its eyes. The dog did not look directly at them; it seemed to stare slightly to the side and toward the ground, but Nick had no doubt that the dog was watching every move they made.
“It’s the witch’s hellhound!” Biff whimpered.
“Well, whoever he is, he brought friends.”
To the right and behind them were two more dogs, just as large and formidable looking as the first, with dark shaggy fur and thick, sinewy limbs. But these dogs were different: One had more of a pointed snout, with slender ears that tapered at the tips; one had a shock of bright white fur down its chest and belly that made it look like an enormous stuffed animal with its seam ripped open; one had a long, bushy tail, and the other had no tail at all—just a rounded nub that jutted out from its haunches like the handle of an ax.
Biff pointed at the dog behind them. “Would you look at that!”
The dog’s eyes were glowing pale green in the moonlight.
“I told you they were hellhounds!”
“Calm down,” Nick said. “That’s just the light reflecting off a layer of cells behind its retinas. It’s just like the red-eye effect you get when you have your picture taken—only his eyes glow green.”
“What do we do now?”
“Let’s try something,” Nick said. “Stay beside me—do what I do.” He slowly started forward again, watching the dogs carefully; the dogs started forward when he did, gradually closing the distance between them. When Nick stopped, they stopped; when he turned and tried to retrace his footsteps the dog behind him stood its ground and made a low warning growl. When he turned and attempted to move forward again, the two lead dogs moved closer together and blocked his way. They were surrounded now, completely boxed in by three glaring dogs less than twenty feet away.
Nick nodded. “Very good. Very impressive.”
“They’re going to kill us,” Biff choked.
“They don’t want to kill us. If they did they could have done it before now.”
The panic in Biff ’s voice was rising. “I’m getting out of here!”
“Don’t be stupid—any one of these dogs could be on top of you in two strides.”
“You said they wouldn’t kill us!”
“I said they don’t want to—I didn’t say you couldn’t talk them into it.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We wait.”
They didn’t have to wait long.
Soon they heard the sound of softly crunching footsteps in the distance. Two figures were slowly approaching, walking side by side, silhouetted against the moon; one was tall and one was short; one was a human form, and one was animal.
Biff swallowed hard. “The witch.”
“It’s about time.”
Nick adjusted his glasses and watched her as she approached. She was of medium height, with straight black hair that came almost to her waist, ending in a ragged razor cut at the ends. She kept her head down as she walked, causing her hair to hang in front of her like a veil, concealing her face. It was difficult to estimate her build; she wore loose-fitting clothing that draped over her like a white shroud, with billowy sleeves that covered the tips of her fingers and a long flowing skirt that came just to the tops of her bare feet.
Beside her was a fourth dog. It was smaller and more slender than the other dogs, but still of considerable size. It was a mottled gray color, with long tufts of fur on its chest and head and along the ridge of its back. It walked with an obvious limp, and as it came closer Nick could see why: The dog had only three legs. Its right foreleg had been severed cleanly at the shoulder, and though the dog had learned to compensate impressively, the rhythm of its stride was slightly broken.
The witch and her dog stopped in front of Nick without a word. She snapped her fingers and barely lifted one hand palm down; all four dogs immediately sat, never taking their eyes from Nick and Biff. The witch tipped her head to the left and raised it slowly; when she did, her hair parted slightly and one eye peered out at them from behind the silky black curtain. She looked Nick over carefully, then slowly lowered her head again, causing the eye to retreat back into the darkness.
Nick cleared his throat. “Look, I can explain all this—”
The witch snapped her fingers and lifted one thumb—all four dogs barked simultaneously, then stopped.
Nick got the message.
Now the witch stepped directly in front of the boy. She tipped her head to the right this time and raised it; an eye slowly appeared again, like a bottle floating up in the ocean at night. She looked him over from head to foot—at his youthful face, at his high school letter jacket emblazoned with the letter E, at his denim-covered legs that were trembling like the tines of a tuning fork.
Nick looked at Biff too; he was panting like one of the dogs. Nick hoped that the boy wouldn’t hyperventilate and suddenly pass out; he had no idea what the dogs might do if he did. The animals seemed to be trained to respond to motion—for all he knew, suddenly dropping to the ground could be the command for “dinner.”
The witch spoke to the boy in a deep voice: “Who dares to invade my privacy?”
Biff tried to speak but nothing came out.
“I asked him to bring me up here,” Nick explained.
She didn’t take her eye off the boy. “Did you climb my fence, boy?”
He managed a nod.
“Did you not see my warnings? Did you dare to cross my hex on the night of a full moon? You foolish boy—whatever befalls you next is on your own head.” With that, she raised one finger and slashed an X across her chest, then wiggled her fingers in an ominous mystic sign. When she did, all four dogs rose up on their hind legs and began to slowly turn in circles, baying at the moon.
That was more than Biff could handle. He turned on his heels and bolted back through the woods toward the fence, crashing through the underbrush like a wounded water buffalo.
The witch snapped her fingers and made a sweeping gesture with both arms; the three black dogs took off silently after him through the woods.
Nick watched until the last of the dogs disappeared into the brush, then turned and looked at the witch. “When you said, ‘Whatever befalls you,’ I’m hoping that didn’t include being eaten by dogs.”
“They won’t harm him—unless I tell them to.” She stepped in front of Nick again. “So who are you—the hig
h school science teacher, come to prove to his star pupil that witches don’t really exist? He’ll need some convincing now.”
“I don’t think Biff is anybody’s ‘star pupil,’” Nick said. “Too many head tackles.” He paused. “You know, you’re a hard person to get ahold of.”
“I like it that way.”
“In Endor they told me you only talk to animals.”
“That’s because animals listen. They’re even capable of understanding simple commands, like ‘Do not trespass.’”
“Animals can read?”
“As well as you seem to. Why are you on my land?”
“I need your help.”
“You’ve got a funny way of asking for it.”
“Can you suggest a better way? They told me you don’t have a phone.”
“That’s right.”
“What was I supposed to do, mail a postcard to ‘Witch’s Lair, Endor, USA’?”
“This is not Endor—this is my land. The people of Endor have never lifted a finger to help me, and I have no desire to help them.”
“I’m not from Endor.”
“Good—at least you have something going for you.”
“Look,” Nick said, “if you’ll just give me a minute to explain—” But as he said this he made the mistake of taking a step toward her. The instant he did, the three-legged dog seated peacefully beside her looked as if a surge of electric current had jolted its body awake. It widened its stance and lowered its head, barking and snarling and baring its teeth at Nick.
The witch snapped her fingers and the dog fell silent again. “Do not underestimate this dog,” she said. “She can do things with three legs that most dogs can’t do with four.”
Nick took a careful step back again. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
“I believe you—she isn’t so sure. I think you need to go now.”
“You know, I went to a lot of trouble to come up here.”
“You mean climbing my fence and trespassing through my woods? Sorry for all your trouble.” She raised her hands over her head and clapped twice.
Nick turned and looked in the direction of the fence; a few moments later he could hear the sound of the three huge dogs bounding back toward them. “I knew we should have taken my car. Now how am I supposed to get back?”