by Alexie Aaron
“No. Rory’s always been a neat boy.” She wandered over to his desk. “Takes after his father. I fear I’m not a good housekeeper. Rory helps out when he can.”
Tom looked into the trash can and found a couple of receipts from the local Wal-Mart with Friday and Saturday’s date on them. “Can I have these?”
“If they were in the trash, I doubt Rory intended to keep them,” she answered.
“Where do you keep your trash bins?”
“Recycling is in the mudroom. Trash in the garage.”
Tom walked out of the room, swiftly pulling out his phone as he walked. He dialed the station and asked to be put through to Ryan. Tom knelt down, shifted through the broken down boxes, and pulled the ones from Friday’s purchase out.
“Ryan here.”
“Rory purchased a new paintball gun and ammo Friday at Wal-Mart. Saturday morning he purchased more pellets, blue ones.”
“I was afraid of that. This ties him in with our missing rich kids. Get your butt over to Derby Road, mile marker thirty-eight. Deputy Chambers spotted the cars parked off road in that old access area to Sentinel Woods. I told him to wait for backup. I’m looking for someone that knows those woods before we begin to search.”
“Good luck with that. Try Ed Monroe from Derby. He’s got the contract to cut the ditches alongside the road. His farm is east of there a few miles.”
“I’ll give him a call.”
Tom put the phone down, aware that Mrs. Kline was standing behind him. He got up and showed her the boxes. She took a look at the price tag of the marker. “He’s not got the money for these unless…” she turned heel and went into the den.
Curious, Tom followed her in. She was typing furiously on the computer and slammed her hand down hard on the desk. “Rory’s emptied his savings account!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him, and he can explain it to you in person. I have to go. We’ve got a lead as to where he may have spent the night.”
Mrs. Kline followed Tom out the door. He backed out of the drive and sped off. She waffled between saying prayers for Rory’s safe return and cussing at him for spending six hundred hard-earned dollars on a toy gun.
~
Tom pulled up behind a F150 blue truck that had seen ten hard years since it rolled off the assembly line. He walked across the street and followed the sound of conversation. He found a very nervous Deputy Chambers having a heated conversation with Ed Monroe while Monroe’s two sons looked at something just the other side of a black Lincoln SUV.
Chambers looked up, relief flooding his face. “Ed and his boys didn’t hear anything last night but have seen teenagers running around in the woods frequently this past summer,” he explained.
Tom walked over and shook hands with the farmer. “I’m sorry to get you involved in this, Ed, but I couldn’t think of anyone that would know these woods like you do.”
“You did right, son, don’t fret. I don’t know anyone who’s had the pleasure of having this piece of shit acreage abutting their property for as long as my family has.”
“I have to admit to being a bit puzzled,” Tom said, directing his concerns to Deputy Chambers. “Ryan informed me that you found all three vehicles, I only see the Lincoln.”
Chambers motioned for Tom to follow him. “I’d keep as far away from this as you can,” he warned. “When I arrived, all three were parked here in the field. By the time I called it in, well… See for yourself.”
Tom walked around the Lincoln and gasped at the sight before him. The Mustang sat on its side where it had rolled as the ground disappeared beneath it. Under it, Tom could just make out the yellow of the Summerfield’s Hummer.
“It’s a sinkhole,” Ed said behind him. There are hundreds of them in the woods. The ground won’t support anything heavy for long.”
“Do you have this problem on your property?”
“No, and there’s no good reason for this to happen. I think that there’s something in that woods that encourages the ground to eat whatever it can.”
Tom did a double take. “You’re talking about these woods as being…”
“A living thing. Yes, sir, I am. Sure the trees and grass and bushes are alive, but I’m talking about the woods as a whole. My grandfather saw it take a whole house in minutes without warning. He said it was like it opened up and swallowed it. My advice if you want to save that fancy car there, is to get it out of here fast.”
“I’ll call for a tow truck.”
“Deputy, like I was telling your associate here, you don’t have time for that.”
Tom walked over and tried the doors. They were locked. Ed picked up a rock and broke the driver’s side window. He reached in and unlocked the car.
Tom spotted the electronic key in the cup holder and started the car. He put it in gear and backed away as the ground began to tremble under the SUV. He just managed to get all four wheels on solid ground when the sinkhole expanded. Tom drove the Lincoln out onto the road and parked it. Only then did he start to breathe again.
A shrill sound emanated from the passenger seat. Tom looked over and saw that a cellphone vibrated next to a worn wallet. He picked it up and saw that someone’s mother was calling. He flipped open the wallet and realized it was Rory’s mom.
Tom walked over to his patrol car and reported to dispatch what he had found. He then popped the trunk of his cruiser and armed himself before joining the others to begin a search of Sentinel Woods for the seven missing teenagers.
~
“So Mia jumps off the couch and…”
“I thought he was Pumpkin Head,” Mia interrupted. “I was so pulled into the book that I had no idea where I was,” she explained to a very amused Cid.
“I find myself quite surprised at your choice of reading material,” Cid commented. “Weren’t you raised on archeological journals and other dry stuff?”
“Yes.”
“She was doing research…” Ted related what Mia had explained to him the previous night.
They had ordered their meals and were enjoying the hot strong cups of coffee when Ted brought up Mia’s antics of the night before.
“All I’m saying is, that there may be some truth to this whole Pumpkin Head thing,” Mia defended her position.
“Ted, I’m going to have to take her side on this,” Cid said. “There have been a few instances involving the Jersey Devil that…”
“There is no Jersey Devil,” Ted insisted.
“I suppose you’re also going to dispute Big Foot?” Cid said.
“Well yes, any idiot…”
“Zombies?” Cid asked.
“Well, you’ve got me there. Don’t look so smug, Mia. He got lucky with that one.”
“I don’t think luck has anything to do with zombies, dear,” Mia said acidly.
Ted flinched. He thought he had better let the subject drop. “I hope Nathan got back alright. He and Burt seemed to be well into their cups when I left.”
“I dropped both of them off at Burt’s. I expect they are nursing hangovers.”
“As is traditional with stag nights,” Mia said. “Thank you for taking Ted out and showing him a good time.”
Cid smiled. “It’s a best man’s duty.”
Mia’s phone rang, and she saw it was Sheriff Ryan. Not wanting to disturb the other patrons of the pancake house, she excused herself and walked outside.
“Hello, John.”
“I wanted to let you know that we found evidence of the missing rich kids and the Kline boy over at Sentinel Woods.”
“That wouldn’t be Rory Kline from the hardware store?” she asked.
“You know him?”
“Know of him. I was just having a conversation about him with Deb Booker the other day.”
“We think he joined the boys for an excursion into the woods sometime yesterday. We’re going to search for them there.”
“Do you need some help?”
“Are you familiar with the woods?”
“No, I’d just
be another body. I’ve got a bad feeling about that place. Don’t venture out alone. Make sure you keep your search party large and noisy,” she advised.
“Afraid of bears?” John asked.
“Don’t know of any bears this far south, but there’s something there that gives me a twisted gut.”
“I hear you. I’ll let you know if your particular services are needed. Until then, stand down.”
“Yes, sir, aye aye sir,” Mia said.
Ryan laughed, realizing Mia was taking his mistake of treating her like one of his deputies with good humor. “I’ve got to get going.”
“Thanks for the update,” Mia said and ended the call. She took a moment to collect herself before going back into the restaurant.
~
Tom trudged up the hill, following Ed’s oldest son Carl. They had broken off into two teams. Chambers was with Ed and his other boy.
“I’ve been venturing into these woods all my life, and I’ve never felt comfortable walking in them. It’s like walking into a room of people you don’t know. You swear they’re all looking at you. It’s like that here. The place has a bad reputation, and it’s well earned,” Carl insisted. “Back when dad was young, there was a hunting party that died here. Before that, they tried building on the west side. The developer lost his shirt in the enterprise and was found hung after the sinkholes took the houses.”
“That’s quite a history,” Tom said absently as he found evidence of orange paint on the side of a pine tree.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Before that, a whole village was slaughtered, and before that…” Carl stopped talking. He managed to back up and tapped Tom on the back. “Up there, two o’clock.”
Tom followed Carl’s direction and saw something hanging forty feet in the air. It appeared to be a very large wasp’s nest. “That’s some nest. Let’s hope they are hibernating.”
Carl handed him his binoculars. “That’s no nest.”
Tom focused in on the object swaying and twisting in the morning breeze. It seemed like a giant cocoon made with wooden thorny vines. Orange paint dripped from it. Had the boys use it for target practice? Tom adjusted the binoculars again, and as the cocoon twisted back in the wind, he saw a booted foot jutting out the bottom of it. He focused in on the top and quickly pulled the binoculars away from his eyes so he didn’t have to see it again.
“He appears to be screaming, but I can’t hear anything, can you?” Carl said quietly.
The teen’s mouth was open in agony, his sightless eyes fixed on something no longer there. Tom picked up his phone and called Ryan.
Chapter Twenty-seven
John followed the line of crime tape that Tom had strung from the small stream. Before that, he used the small red Xs painted on the trees marking the way. He had arrived just as the fire department was maneuvering their heavy vehicles to park them on the remaining verge of the road. A truck from Hadley’s Tree Trimmers was the only vehicle, besides Ed Monroe’s pickup, that wasn’t paid for by tax dollars. The state police had blocked off the road at the east and west end, allowing only emergency and official vehicles to continue on the road.
John watched as the experienced tree cutter dug his spikes into the oak and moved slowly up the massive tree. He tied himself off and slowly ventured out on the thick limb of the tree, testing the stability of the branch before putting his full weight on it. He had to sit down and inch his way the last few feet. He looked for a rope that would have been used to attach the cocoon to the branch and found none. However, there was a vine that looked as if it had been there for years. He leaned over and attached a line to the top of the cocoon, looping it through the twisted wood. It was difficult and dangerous work. He avoided making eye contact with the dead kid. Seeing those dead eyes once was enough to haunt him the rest of his life. He then secured it to the tree before taking out a small hatchet and chopping until the vine separated from the branch. The cocoon dropped until the slack of the safety line caught it. He then lowered it to the waiting hands of the emergency personnel.
John walked over after the men had set the heavy monstrosity on the thick canvas. He knelt down and tried to match up what he could see of the boy’s face with the photos he had received from the households. “It’s one of the Summerfield boys. I can’t tell which one. I suppose dental records or DNA will sort this out,” he said to Tom, who had out his flip book and was taking notes. “The cocoon looks like it grew around him. But we know that has to be impossible. He’ll have to be cut out.”
“Sir, excuse me for my impudence, but don’t you think we better call you-know-who?”
“To do what exactly?” John challenged. “I don’t think a ghost did this, son.”
“She knows people who can help us here. This isn’t your garden variety teenagers-lost-in-the-woods scenario.”
“No it’s murder, and Mia’s not a law enforcement professional. We’d be putting her at risk.”
“I’ll protect her,” Tom insisted. “She already knows there’s something wrong here. Maybe she can help us get to the other boys before…”
“They end up like this?” John said, covering the face of the teen with an evidence tarp. The sheriff’s radio buzzed. “Ryan here.”
“Sir, we found another boy,” Chamber’s voice announced.
“Is he alive?”
“No, sir.”
“Give me the GPS, and I’ll be there soon.”
Chambers did as instructed. Tom followed his boss silently. He would continue to make his case for bringing in the sensitive, but now wasn’t the time.
They walked out of the woods, down a slope and over to where Chambers, Ed Monroe and his son were standing. The Monroes parted, exposing the scene in front of them. To one side sat what was left of a paint-spattered gravestone. A few of the letters remained, but that wasn’t what so interested the men. Beside it, buried chest deep was a very dead Jason Jones. His shirt had been ripped open, and letters had been cut into his chest.
“Homer? As in Simpson?” John asked no one in particular.
“No, as in Van Kamp,” Ed corrected. “This here is, or was, the grave of Homer Van Kamp, the sole survivor of the Sentinel Settlement.” He picked up a few of the stones and piled them reverently next to the standing stone.
“The Sentinel Settlement?” John asked.
“It was well before Illinois became a state.”
“I take it the settlement didn’t work out.”
“You could say that, sir. They were all slaughtered except for Homer Van Kamp. He died of fright.”
John looked over at Tom. “Call Mia.”
Tom nodded and walked away to make the call.
~
“Yes, Tom, I understand. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll get out there as soon as I can,” Mia promised. She put down her phone and leaned against the kitchen counter where she had been peeling potatoes.
Ted looked over at his fiancée and noticed her hands shaking.
“They found two of the boys dead. The method of their deaths Tom believes was paranormal. There are five others, including Rory Kline, still unaccounted for. I think I have to get out there to determine who to call next,” Mia explained.
Ted looked at the tinges of blue around her mouth. He got up from where he had been sitting and grabbed her hand. “Breathe, baby.”
Mia did so. Ted could tell she wasn’t aware she was holding her breath.
“You’re not going out there without me. I’ll ring the bell for Murphy,” Ted offered. “I’ll leave it to you to ask him. Cid and I’ll pack up the truck and notify Burt and Mike that we’re taking it. How about calling Audrey? Maybe her research has borne fruit.”
“You’re hoping that Pumpkin Head was just a fictional representation of a rumor.”
“Yes. The alternative is too scary to contemplate at the moment,” Ted said.
“I don’t want it to be true,” Mia explained. “But if it is, then we better figure out quick who summoned this demon.�
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~
Rory woke up to the sounds of sirens. He rubbed his eyes and looked around him. He appeared to be under a massive pine tree. He remembered crawling into what he thought was a wood hut and finding out it was only a tree, a very old tree. The old giant didn’t have the benefit of man to trim its lower branches as it reached for the sky. Instead, the elder branches fell downward one after another. The needles dropped off and collected in thick piles on the forest floor. The accumulation of limbs was so thick that Rory couldn’t tell if it was daylight or night still. If it wasn’t for the sirens, he probably would have never woke up.
He got on his feet and retraced his steps until he found an exit to his pine hut. He crawled out, pushing his marker before him. Once free of the pine, he got to his feet and looked around. He was deep in the forest, standing on solid ground. The sirens had faded away, but he could hear men’s voices. Could this be a search party? He put his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Here! Here! I’m here!”
A shot whizzed by his head. Another connected with his forehead. Extreme pain clouded his vision as the purple paint dripped down his face. Another pellet hit him, this time in the temple. He didn’t see the orange paint or feel the pain. The impact of the pellet took his consciousness from him, and he fell.
~
“The area they call Sentinel Woods was considered to be a holy place to the Native Americans of this region. According to the Big Bear Lake history book,” Audrey explained, her voice echoing in the trailer from the speakers Ted had connected. “A local tribe – I’m guessing the Fox – warned a group of French trappers, they had been trading with, against venturing into these woods before leaving for their summer hunting grounds. And as you would expect, their warnings only fueled the determination of the group. When the tribe returned in the autumn, they discovered that the white men had not only ignored their warnings, but had cut down some of the old trees and built shelters with them inside the holy forest. The tribe vacated the area, fearing retribution from the tree spirits. The men didn’t last the winter. A French trading party found all but one of the trappers slaughtered after the spring thaw. The survivor had lost his mind. They assumed he killed his fellow trappers, and as he was in no shape to defend himself, they hung him.”