Tee circles back but roots himself about a hundred yards away, his legs trembling. As my mind thaws from a deep freeze, I start to take steps backward, putting more distance between myself and the trees the hideous creature retreated behind.
“What works? What the hell was that thing?” Robby’s eyes scream for answers.
A squirrel scurries the trunk of a tree, orbiting the tree on its ascent. It moves onto a branch, stopping. It rises on its hind legs, its eyes locking onto us. It begins barking. Its eyes! Oh my God! Its eyes! A similar flash of blue moves through its eyes like twin indigo hurricanes rotating. Its chest heaves unnaturally with great determination.
Brady turns to us. “Let’s go. We can’t stay here. It’s not safe here. We need to go now!”
No one questions Brady’s command. We’re all racing through the woods to the road. I struggle to keep up with the blistering pace as the endorphins that worked to mask the pain of my fatiguing muscles begin to fade.
Chapter 32
Redirection
AS WE MOVE out into the clearing of the road, wailing police sirens approach from the distance. Thank God! The Police. Seth and Shane’s bikes lay strewn in the gully by the road, but Cam’s bike is gone. Cam must’ve gotten to the police.
Brady’s eyes follow the road into the direction of the sirens. “We have to get out of here.”
“We need to tell the cops what happened.”
Tee jerks his head to me. “Did you see that thing? Cops can’t do nothing about whatever that thing is.”
“Yeah, but they’ll know we were here.”
“What are we going to tell them, huh?” Robby throws his hands into the air as the words leave his mouth. “Myron turned into my dad, then turned into a monster. And then turned into a squirrel?”
“Yeah, Robby’s right.” Devin’s wide eyes lock on mine. “They’ll lock us all up in the nut bin for sure.”
“We can’t stay here. That thing’ll be back. It’s changing. Gathering its strength.”
How the hell does he know these things? And where’d he even come from?
“We’re not debating this here.” Tee scans the tree line. “I ain’t about to wait for that thing to come back. Know that time when you’re screaming at the TV in a horror movie, telling them all to run? That’s now.”
I swallow a shallow breath through my mouth. “So where? Where should we go?”
“Far away from here as possible.” Tee’s words spill out, overlapping my own.
“Follow me.” Brady takes off running to the opposite tree line.
We stay huddled in the middle of the road. None of us really know Brady Palmer, other than the stories we’ve heard. None of them good. The police sirens continue growing louder, dwindling the seconds before the squad cars roll over the hill and spot us. The point of no return.
“Come on!” Brady screams as he emphatically motions for us to come.
“Dammit.” Robby turns and sprints to the hill.
It’s a decision of necessity, not choice. None of us want to, nor could we explain what happened in Shiners’ Gorge. Nor do we want to get tangled with Brady Palmer, but that course charted itself for us. We all start running and work into the tree line at the same moment the patrol cars breach the hill, and by the slimmest of margins, we make it into the woods undetected.
Our procession moves with haste through the woods in silence. Brady leads the way in an unwavering push forward.
Where’s he taking us? A predetermined location? I study him. He takes purposeful steps, a silent rudder steering at the stern of our fate. Replayed images of the horrible happenings in Shiner’s Gorge trample my internal questions, squashing them underfoot a wave of waking nightmares. I wince as I succumb to the onslaught of fresh memory. Haunting screams. Blood. The creature.
The other boys’ eyes glaze, becoming uninhabited, as if they’re abandoning this world and slipping into their own minds. My mind swims, treading rough seas, head making occasional surface breaches for a breath of conscious thought before all that churning uncertainty pulls me beneath the dark waves. There’s little clarity, mostly turbulence. Synapses misfire, little connection possible in the murkiness of my mind. Everything’s disjointed.
The events we’ve just experienced imprint me with an indelible mark, calling into question everything I thought I understood about this world. I imagine the Aztecs we learned about in our history class experienced the same when the conquistadors first strode ashore in their silvery armor, my dominion reduced to a paltry shadow of my former understanding of the way of things.
Chapter 33
The Disappearance of the Rogers Twins
TWO PATROL CARS come to a screeching halt on Timberline Road. Trees overhang the roadway, the bony branches splintering sunlight. Clancy’s stomach gurgles, a silent acknowledgement of the dangers imminent in this location on the outskirts of town. The desolate, rutted road lies on the way to nowhere. Originally cut through the forest as a firebreak line, and later paved with federal DEA grant money, the police occasionally patrol here for illegal activities emanating from Shiners’ Gorge, but this only marks Officer Clancy’s third time here.
They turn the sirens off in quick succession but leave the lights on both cars flashing. Streaks of red and blue trail across the trees as Officer Clancy steps out of the lead squad car. Clancy stares in mild surprise at the two bicycles. When Cam Givers ran into the police station telling a fantastical story about Myron Thompson attacking and killing his friends with superhuman strength, Clancy harbored serious doubts. Another boy who read too many comic books with an overactive imagination gone wild. But the bicycles corroborate a bit of Cam’s story and make Clancy wonder if some of his story might prove true. While claims of Myron’s superhuman strength strike Clancy as ludicrous, it’s possible to attribute this to a scrawny, sixty-five-pound boy’s honest perception of a much larger boy attacking his friends. It still seems strange that a missing boy would turn up in the woods to attack some classmates. Although, by all accounts, Myron’s a total degenerate piece of shit. Clancy turns his walkie-talkie on.
“Marcy. Over.” Clancy surveys the edge of the woods.
“Go, Officer Clancy.”
“So, there’s two bikes out here on Timberline Road. This part of Cam Givers’ story checks out. Think me and Officer Ivansek will have Cam lead us to where he says his friends were attacked by Myron Thompson and have a look around. Over.”
Clancy waves at Officer Ivansek, trying to get his attention. He’s taking a bite of his beef jerky, shuffling in his seat. A beat cop as well, and also the beneficiary of the veteran layoffs in the department, Officer Clancy asked him to come along, not because he put much credence into Cam Givers’ story, but because of the dangers inherent to Shiners’ Gorge. Officer Ivansek fails to notice Clancy waving his hand.
“You want me to phone Holt? Over.”
“No. DON’T phone Holt. He’s in a session. Over.”
Because of the terrain in Harper Pass, Detective Holt swears by the shortwave radios. Spotty cell phone signals make service intermittent at best. He never carries his radio into session but always carries his cell phone.
“Are you sure?”
“Marcy, they’re going through a lot right now.” Clancy looks into his backseat at the awkward, little, bottle-nerved boy staring out the window. “This still might be just a boy’s imagination. Let’s leave Holt alone. They’ve got some issues to work through. Over.”
Officer Clancy motions again for Officer Ivansek to get out of his patrol car. Ivansek hoists his large frame out of the vehicle. The police cruiser rocks on its axles as if taking a big sigh of relief. Ivansek’s an oafish man, clumsy in appearance and in his police work. Not the worst guy to bring to Shiners’ Gorge. May not be smart, but he’s a big sonna bitch!
“So, what’s the story, cap’?”
“Dude, I’m not your captain. Or a captain. I started like three weeks before you did.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Officer Ivansek hoists his belt to his protruding belly. “So, what’s the sitch?”
“Look, we need to have Cam Givers show us where he says his friends were attacked by that Myron kid. This whole story smells like bullshit, but sure as shit, there’s those Rogers brothers’ bikes.”
“Yeah. Sounds good, cap’.”
“Dammit! What did I just tell you?”
“Oh yeah. Right. Sorry, Clancy. Just habit.”
“All right, man. Well, just cut it out. It’s unprofessional.”
“You got it ca… I mean, Clancy. Sorry.”
Clancy shoots him eyes that scream, are you serious?
Clancy opens the back door of the cruiser and Cam Givers scurries away. He sandwiches himself between the other door and the steel mesh divider that protects the front of the vehicle from its run-of-the-mill criminal passengers.
“Cam, come on. I need you to show me where you and your friends were.”
Cam Givers wedges himself in tight and shakes his head no. His eyes drip with fear at the prospect of reentering the woods.
“Kid, come on. We’re here now. Nothing’s going to happen.” Officer Clancy taps the firearm on his hip.
“I… I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Just get out of the car. Take us to where you were with your friends. You can do that, right?”
Tears well in Cam’s eyes, and he gives a vehement shake of his head. Cam’s body shivers as if he’s cold, but it’s summer and pushing ninety-five degrees.
“Listen, Cam, me and Officer Ivansek will protect you. Isn’t that right, Officer Ivansek?”
Officer Ivansek’s finger worms around deep inside his nostril. With the weight of two sets of eyes resting upon him, he wriggles it out of his nose, pulling a stringy booger out with it. Officer Clancy frowns in disgust as Ivansek brushes his hands across his pants, discarding the evidence.
“That’s right. We’re right here with ya, kid. Aunt Melissa gonna keep ya safe for sure.” Officer Ivansek hoists a goofy smile as he places his hand on his holstered service weapon.
Clancy shoots Ivansek a sideways glance intentioned to say you’re not helping, not at all. Ivansek gets the message, shrugs his shoulders and retreats to his patrol car. Officer Clancy leans into the patrol car.
“Look, Cam. Officer Ivansek. He ain’t the brightest bulb on the tree. But he’s just the kind of person you want with us. I mean, look at him. The guy’s a giant, right?”
Tears stream down Cam Givers’ cheeks, and he doesn’t surrender an inch of ground. Clancy lets a deep exhale escape his lungs. Shit. This kid ain’t going nowhere. I’d have to drag him out.
“Okay, how ‘bout this? You just get out of the car, just for a second. Point us in the direction of where you last saw those boys, and you can stay here in the car. Can you do that for me, son?”
“Uh…yes sir.” Cam’s meek voice crackles. He makes a tentative exit out of the vehicle.
“We was over there. About three ridgelines away.” Cam points into the woods. “Top of the third ridge is where Myron was. Where he attacked us, sir. I mean, where he attacked Seth and Shane.”
“That sounds real near Shiners’ Gorge. What were you kids doing playing there?”
“We wasn’t playing. We was hiding. Hiding from Sammy and Bo. They were after us.”
“Did you see Sammy and Bo with that Myron fella’?”
“No. It was just Myron.”
“Okay. Me and Officer Ivansek are going to go check this out. You’ll be safe here. We’ll leave the car on for ya.” Officer Clancy’s words leech the color from Cam’s face. “Don’t worry. There’s no way to unlock the back from outside the car. This is reinforced glass, too.” Clancy taps the glass with his Mag Light.
“Okay.” Cam’s voice wavers.
“You’re going to be fine. Just stay in the car. Play a game or something. We’ll be back before you know it.”
A wide-eyed Cam climbs into the backseat, and Clancy closes the door behind him before putting the air conditioning on full blast. He closes and locks the door behind him. He motions to Ivansek and points to the woods.
Clancy narrows his eyes on Ivansek as the two men ascend the hill. “What the hell was that back there?”
“What?”
“Aunt Melissa? Are you serious? What does that even mean?”
“Oh. Ohhh.” A shot of color rushes into Ivansek’s cheeks. “Man, I tell ya. I had this mean ole aunt growing up, Aunt Melissa. She didn’t take any guff.”
Clancy rolls his eyes. “So you named your service weapon after her?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, seemed appropriate. She was one tough cookie, and so is this little beaut’.” Ivansek rubs his hand on the black leather holster.
The two officers reach the top of the first ridge and scan the valley below. Their eyes traverse narrow passageways between the girthy trunks of hardwood trees. Nothing stirs, and the eerie silence of the forest scales Clancy’s spine. The men descend the ridge, careful attention paid to their periphery. As they approach the valley at the bottom of the ridge, a sudden flash of movement snags their attention. Clancy unsnaps the button on his holster, readying his weapon. The men pause, focused eyes funneling through thick summer foliage. They wait, but nothing stirs. Clancy’s shifty eyes land on Officer Ivansek.
“Let’s go, but make sure you watch our six. And be careful. This whole area could be booby trapped. Trip wires and such.”
The real danger of an ambush by nefarious criminals near Shiners’ Gorge concerns Officer Clancy far more than Myron Thompson. As they move through the valley and begin their ascent of the second ridge, Clancy scans his periphery, his eyes flitting through the tree line.
Ivansek’s pores seep summer sweat, saturating spots in the fabric of his uniform. His heavy mouth breathing sounds their advance. The damp patches materializing on his uniform swell in size with each new step he takes. How in the hell’d he pass his fitness exam? Clancy gives a subtle shake of his head and mutters.
“You need to lay off the snack cakes.”
“Whatever, pretty boy. That’s Stroman’s Light, not snack cakes.” Ivansek rubs his beer belly, proud as an expectant mother.
Nothing wrong with his hearing.
Clancy scans the ridgeline above. A persistent still smothers it with silence. He points to the top of the hill.
“All right. That’s it right there. The top of that ridge. That’s where Cam Givers said everything went down.”
“Let’s go get this kid.”
“Not convinced there is one. But stay alert, we’re damn close to Shiners’ Gorge.” Clancy’s words float out as a hushed whisper.
The men climb to the top of the hill. Clancy motions for Ivansek to check their flank while he investigates. There’s no indication of anyone in the area. Ivansek waddles to an area of disturbed earth, inspecting the ground, noticing the subtle difference. Two patches of bare earth contrast against the surrounding areas of uniform detritus covering the ground. Ivansek follows the areas of disturbed earth to the base of a large oak tree. He stands beneath the canopy, inspecting them. The imprints bear a strong resemblance to shoe prints. Clancy spots Ivansek lingering and joins him.
“Clancy, what do you make of this? Looks like two shoe prints, right?”
But Clancy’s eyes fixate on the tree trunk. He shuffles around Ivansek for a closer inspection, hoping it’s sap, but his instincts scream otherwise. The tree appears spattered in blood stains, soaked deep into the soggy bark. Ivansek rises and follows the direction of Clancy’s gaze. Ivansek flinches and his eyes bulge.
“Jesus!”
Clancy pulls an ink pen from his pocket and runs it across one of the thick rivers of semi-gelatinous fluid between the bark. The silver housing near the tip of the pen coats with a dark red residue. Clancy’s heart primes, a racehorse in a starting gate. It’s blood beginning to coagulate and a lot of it.
Officer Clancy pulls his service weapon from his hip holster, raises it into a firin
g position, and orbits the tree. His eyes dart in all directions, but there’s no sign of anyone, only distant katydids singing a chorus in the summer heat.
He fumbles over his belt, never lowering his eyes. He collects his radio and raises it to his lips. “Marcy? Over.”
“You think that boy’s telling the truth?” Ivansek unsheathes his firearm.
“Don’t know. Maybe his perception of what happened. Marcy! Over!”
There’s no answer on the other end of the radio, only the hum of static. Clancy pulls his cell phone from his pocket and clenches his jaw at zero bars on the display. Despite that, he enters the station number and presses dial. It doesn’t work.
“Dammit!”
Ivansek lifts a brow at Clancy. “What should we do?”
“We need to secure this scene as best we can. Don’t think it’s a good idea to leave just one of us behind so close to Shiners’ Gorge. Let’s tape this area off and then head back to the cars to call for backup.”
The two officers work in concert to seal off the area as best they can.
Chapter 34
Brady Palmer
WE FOLLOW BRADY through the woods in silence, not one of us so much as raising a question. My fears and uncertainty worked to suppress some of my intrinsic skepticism. But with a healthy amount of distance separating us from the creature that tried to kill us in Shiners’ Gorge, my faculties begin to resurface. So do my doubts about where Brady Palmer is leading us.
As Robby follows close behind, he narrows his eyes on Brady’s swift progress. Robby’s voice sprints to catch Brady. “Can you just stop for a second?”
“Almost there.” Brady doesn’t slow his advance.
“Almost where?” Tee asks.
We arrive at a clearing. Most of the hike through the woods I spent preoccupied, so lost in my own mind that I didn’t realize where Brady was leading us. As we clear the tree cover, it’s obvious. We’ve emerged from the woods into the cul-de-sac on High Street. Mr. Wadlow’s house and the vacant lot where we stashed our bikes the day before, lie ahead. Had we escaped one terrible fate only to be dealt another?
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