Something rang against her mind: a warning without words, just an image of her lying on the ground of the cavern, dead eyes staring into nothing. The message was clear enough.
Once she could see the edges of the cavern in the darkness, she moved with the girl, who finally started to come to. Mist poured off Emma’s own arms at first, then from her eyes and mouth. She felt the blackness lift from her, more than shoot out, and eventually, she knew it was gone from inside her, originating to its own form in the corner of the cavern. She sighed, feeling the relief that came with running her own body once again.
The girl’s eyes opened wide as she regained consciousness. She tried to let out a scream, but her mouth was covered with gray duct tape. Emma placed a finger in front of her own lips, the irrefutable sign of telling someone to stay quiet. The girl’s eyes were wide, the whites bloodshot, visible even in the dark room. She nodded, silently telling Emma she’d be quiet.
Emma grabbed the corner of the tape, and in one fluid motion, pulled it from the girl’s mouth. She let out a cry of anguish before she rambled in hushed tones.
“Help me. I was attacked by a monster,” she said, her face slick with tears.
Emma’s expression didn’t change, and the girl realized her fate. There hadn’t been a shadow monster like she’d seen. It had been a trick of her eyes, caused by the streetlights. This old lady had taken her, and now she was about to die. Emma could see all of this reel through the girl’s mind, and she began shrieking loudly.
Emma stuck the worn tape back in place over her mouth and dropped her to the ground. “I told you to be quiet.” She kicked the girl in the ribs, angry that she’d betrayed her promise to be silent. The shoe thudded into the young girl’s side, and Emma felt something break inside her own chest. What was she doing? This was an innocent girl. This wasn’t the real Emma any longer. She knew that.
The little girl who’d seen this very shadow in the orchards as she played with her dolls, so many years ago, was dead, slowly destroyed by the one her family called the Anbieter, the Provider. Sure, the family had become wealthy beyond their previous beliefs, but what had it ever gotten anyone? Emma was seventy, broke and shattered.
She tried to tell herself that she’d be moving to Colorado with the Anbieter, where she’d open a hotel. She would live out her days on an oasis, finally having wealth. She’d hire staff to run the business, and she could spend her remaining days beside a wood-burning fireplace. She tried to think about that as she watched the girl squirming on the ground. Most of her mind accepted this future, but a buried part dreaded the idea of starting over again at seventy. She couldn’t work a business from the ground up. It was all too much… then that part of her pushed back inside, an invisible hand plucking her concerns away.
As the dark became easier to see in, Emma noticed the stark white bones scattered into piles along the walls. Brittany Tremblay, Fredrik Karlsson, and now a girl whose name she didn’t know. She’d gone to that street in hopes of picking up the Alenn kid that had come to town, but the Anbieter had other plans. Why, she didn’t know. Emma had assumed the final feed with the child of their blood was necessary, but it didn’t seem to think so.
One more body, and it was ready to walk on its own once again. Emma could return to her apartment and let the creature feed itself from now on, and that suited her just fine. She wasn’t sure she could stomach another abduction.
A shadowy form stretched across the floor, its dark red eyes hardly visible, but Emma knew they watched her from the edge of the cavern. The girl wriggled, hand reaching for Emma’s leg, but Emma stepped away as the black misty form dragged the child across the floor.
_______________
The rain had slowed by the time they emerged back onto Wood Street, the pathway having led them to nothing but an empty barn. Paul had been so sure the creature was going to greet him out there, but they’d encountered nothing.
Detective Tom Bartlett seemed like a solid man, both in physical stature and in character, and Paul found himself liking the Gilden police officer. He was sure the detective thought they were all nuts, going on about ancient blood bargains and German shadow monsters, but he’d taken it all with a grain of salt. He wanted this all to end as badly as Paul and the others did, so at least they had the local enforcement on their side.
“We’re going to Gilden. I need to see this car dealership,” Tom said as his foot plodded down on the first sidewalk. Paul was glad to be immersed in civilization after spending the last couple hours tramping through a muddy forest and field.
It was almost eleven at night, and Paul was anxious to get back to his wife and son, but he couldn’t; not yet. “It’s a dead end, Bartlett,” Paul said. “It has to be at the condo. You must have missed something.”
Tyler and Darrel both said the same thing, that the nest wasn’t here, but Paul could almost feel it calling for him, drawing him. Taylor nodded with him, hands on her hips. “Dad’s right. It’s got to be at the orchard.”
Paul wondered if she was connected to it like he was. The Alenns were bound up with the Smiths, whether they liked it or not. Isabelle didn’t have anything to say about it one way or another, and Paul had the sense that Beth and her daughter were missing the same link. They never seemed in danger from the lurking monster, and he was glad for small miracles.
Stevie would be a strong draw for it, and this made Paul want to get to the creature before it was fed again, resilient enough to kill with liberty. He almost called Terri to tell her to leave town and not look back until this was dealt with, but he couldn’t. Her being on the road might be more of a risk.
Detective Bartlett stopped at Darrel’s truck and motioned to the driver’s door. “Watson, take Alenn and the deputy to the orchard. See what you can find. I’ll drop the girls and the boyfriend off at your house, then head out to Gilden.”
Paul wanted to argue and knew that Taylor wouldn’t let that happen. To his surprise, Taylor nodded along with the cop. “Dad, give me your keys. I’ll drive us to Aunt Beth’s house.”
Brent cut her off. “Seriously? We can’t…”
Taylor gave him a look that meant “keep your mouth shut” and Brent clammed up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
Paul knew what Taylor was thinking, and didn’t want her coming along to the orchard. He had a bad feeling and didn’t want to drag his daughter into the mess with Darrel and himself. What had he been thinking, even letting the kids scour the path with him? He wasn’t in his right mind out here in Red Creek, but things were coming into focus.
“No. I think the detective’s right. Go with him, and we’ll see you later. Protect Mom and your aunt, and watch Stevie like a hawk,” Paul said.
Taylor’s jaw clenched. “But, Dad…”
“Don’t bother. You’re not winning this one. Now go!” Paul shouted, then hugged his daughter. They were both soaked, and he felt her body rack out a soft sob. She was scared and didn’t want him to go without her. He was lost for words. It wasn’t herself she was worried about; it was him.
“Fine,” he whispered in her ear. “Convince Tom to take you to the dealership with him. You’ll be safe there.” Paul had no doubt in his mind that the Gilden dealership had nothing to do with the missing children. The employees were nothing but a coincidence and didn’t seem all that incidental to Paul’s mind.
“I think you’re wasting your time, Bartlett,” Paul said as Darrel wordlessly got into the driver’s seat of his truck, firing up the engine.
“Be careful out there,” the detective said.
Rich Stringer walked over to the police officer, and they spoke to each other in hushed tones before separating, Tom Bartlett heading toward his car with Paul’s daughter, niece, and whatever Brent was to him. Taylor got into the car, taking the front seat, and she watched Paul with sad eyes through the windshield.
He lifted a hand in the air, a silent goodbye. Paul glanced to his old house, boarded up and decrepit, and felt sorrow wash over him. He
had so much to be grateful for in his life. Last time he was here, he’d been miserable; his wife and daughter were living in LA, and he was trying to sell his townhouse so he could get a fresh start. Contrary to the horrors he’d been through because of the Smiths and Red Creek, he was also accepting of it. He was blessed to be so successful and to be able to provide for his family; to send Taylor to the finest schools, to travel around the world with his beautiful wife, and to be able to make a great living at writing horror stories rather than living them.
Tom Bartlett’s car drove by, and Isabelle waved at her dad and Paul as they continued on. Darrel rolled down his window, calling for Paul. “You coming or what? Jesus, man, let’s go.” The window slid up, and Paul got into the front seat; the deputy had already relegated himself into the cramped backseat.
All three men remained noiseless as they headed away, and toward the land that used to be Granny Smith’s Orchard: the land where Paul had been taken when he was a kid, and the same place where he and his friends had thought they ended the threat once and for all. Jason had died that night, as had Cliff, and there wasn’t a day that went by that Paul didn’t think about those two men.
Conway had died that night too, and Paul could often see the image of the blood pooling from the old man’s gunshot wound as he closed his eyes. The memory strengthened him as the truck splashed through pools of water on the streets.
_______________
“Fine, but you’re going to stay in the car when we get there.” Tom gave in to the kids’ pleas. He knew they were technically adults, but that didn’t make him consider them anything but children still. They seemed resilient and committed to figuring this all out, so he decided to give in to Taylor’s incessant demands that he bring them along.
Taylor gave a satisfactory grin, and Tom noticed her hand reach behind her seat to touch her boyfriend’s fingers. Young love. Tom couldn’t even relate to the feeling any longer and averted his gaze, not wanting to intrude on their private moment.
A few minutes passed and they were on the highway, heading for the neighboring town. Tom would be so close to his house and wondered when he’d get to go home to sleep next. At this point, his body was already running on fumes, and he wasn’t sure how much more he had left in the tank. He needed caffeine but didn’t think any of the local businesses were open this late, even on a Saturday night. Maybe a bar would fix him up a stiff cup of coffee. He knew a place on the outskirts of town. They’d be there in three minutes.
Sheriff Tyler’s number came up on the caller ID as a phone call rang out inside the car. Tom shushed the passengers and accepted the call.
“Where are you, Bartlett?” Tyler asked.
“On the way to Gilden. I think there’s something connected to the dealership there,” Tom said, and Tyler cut him off.
“Tom, listen to me. Rich told me they talked to you about the monster in Red Creek. I know you don’t believe it, but it’s true. It’s true.”
Tom heard the emphasis in the sheriff’s voice. He didn’t know what to believe, but the more time he spent with these people, the tenser he was getting. “It can’t be,” he said quietly, watching Taylor’s reaction from the corner of his eyes. “There’s got to be a person behind this. There’s an old lady. She’s popping up around some of the sites.” Tom couldn’t believe he was backing Taylor’s theory from the snippet the Hayes kid had given her in the mental institute.
“What lady?” Sheriff Tyler’s voice was a whisper.
“Witness saw a lady behind the fields during the storm around the time Brittany was taken, only he claimed it turned from a black form to her between lightning strikes. I didn’t pay him much mind until I heard about a woman around the same age at a similar sighting of this ‘shadow creature.’ I think she might be a copycat, or one of the Smiths.”
“Then how does this connect with Gilden at all?” Tyler pressed him.
Tom sighed heavily. “It doesn’t. I don’t know.” He ran his left hand through his hair and felt the building pressure threaten to turn his headache into a major migraine. He fumbled in the center console and pulled out a bottle of extra strength pain relievers, popping two into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He always left the lid loose for easy access.
“Then turn around and give Paul and Rich backup. Wasn’t there a woman at the condo? Around seventy?” Tyler asked. “Emma something. I don’t know her well. She moved to town two or three years ago.”
“That’s around the time Trevor started seeing the Schattenmann!” Taylor blurted out beside Tom.
“Is that you, Taylor?” Sheriff Tyler asked, and Tom cringed, expecting a reprimand from the man. Instead, he surprised Tom.
“It is, Uncle Tyler. Sorry I haven’t been able to see you yet,” she said.
Uncle Tyler. He was that close to the Alenns, was he?
“I know, me too. Stay safe, Taylor, and whoever else is with you. I’m finishing up by your aunt’s house. The abducted girl lived down the block from them. Looks like she was riding her bike. A witness saw an older woman in a hatchback pulled onto the side of the street before taking off,” Tyler said.
“That’s her, Sheriff. Emma Jeanne, the one from the condo. I saw her driving away from the condo right before I got the call about these guys on Wood Street.” Tom thought about it. The scrunchie could have been Carl being a weirdo. So he’d found the hair elastic, and for some reason, took it home. That might be the only explanation. But the shirt – Fredrik’s pajama top in his storage unit. That could have been someone else. It was so neatly folded. Carl was messy, but Emma wasn’t. She would have folded that top perfectly, and likely had.
“Shit. Get to the orchard, Tom. I’m going to radio Rich and tell him to stay put until we both get there.” Sheriff Tyler ended the call, and Tom slowed the car, turning his signal on. The bar was on the right, and he pulled into the gravel parking lot before starting to turn around. A loud pop, and the car dragged to the side.
“What was that?” Isabelle asked from behind his seat.
Tom parked away from the parking lot entrance and opened his door. He could smell rubber, and stepped out to see his rear driver’s side tire not just flat, but torn wide open. Broken bottles were scattered around the lot, and Tom saw a few snickering patrons outside, smoking at the bar’s front door.
“That was a bunch of assholes getting their jollies on a Saturday night.” Tom made sure his safety was on, and strutted for the lit cigarettes waving in the night air.
_______________
Darrel stopped short of the orchard entrance. No matter what the property looked like, Paul was always going to think of it as Granny Smith’s Orchard. He could imagine the picturesque rows of eighty-year-old apple trees, all flush with fruit. The smell was magical, but when Paul tried to remember the scent, all he got was a whiff of damp soil, like the dirt-walled room he’d woken up in when he was a kid. He glanced at his nails, as if expecting to find black dirt under them, and Darrel cut the engine.
Paul’s brother-in-law reached for the door handle, but Rich set a hand on his shoulder from the backseat.
“The sheriff said to hang tight. So that’s what we’re going to do, okay, Watson?” the deputy said, trying to force authority into his high-timbred voice.
“Tyler better hurry the hell up, then,” Darrel said, and he moved closer to Paul. “You okay? You haven’t been out here since it was up in flames.”
Paul tilted his head to one side, then the other, feeling his neck crack. “I don’t know what to feel.” He turned so he could see Rich’s face. “Is that her car?”
The parking lot lights were casting a yellow glow on the sparse cars, and Rich pointed toward the lot. “Sure. It’s the blue hatchback there. We saw it pulling out earlier.”
Paul wanted to get out, to run to the building and bang on her door. But all that would do was endanger himself, and likely others in the complex. Where was it hiding? The rain had slowed now, and Paul got out. The truck’s interior light popped on, a
nd Darrel cursed while fumbling for the manual override. He got it off, and Paul gave him an apologetic look.
“We’re like a damned beacon up here, Paul. If she’s keeping an eye out, she saw us,” Darrel said, and he got out too.
“I said to stay put.” Rich’s voice was muffled as Paul and Darrel each shut their doors softly.
Darrel and Paul met at the front of the truck, and Paul heard Rich clamber out from the truck’s backseat. “I told you to stay in the truck.”
“Look, junior,” Darrel started, avoiding the deputy’s stare, “we’re going to walk the perimeter, see if anything’s out of place. We won’t go near Emma’s unit, okay?”
Rich looked ready to argue but nodded slowly. “I’ll wait here for the sheriff. When he gets here, I’ll tell him you went for a piss.”
“Together?” Darrel laughed. “Come on, Paul. Let’s go see what needs seeing.”
Paul felt for his gun and found it safely tucked into his pants. He wished he had a better spot for it and grabbed it, making sure the safety was on. “No flashlight,” Paul said, and he took Darrel’s silence for agreement.
The orchard’s chain-link fence was removed now. It had been twelve years since Tyler, Nick, Jason, Darrel, and Paul had cut into the fence, going to look for Tommy O’Brian, and it felt like even longer as Paul stepped past the cast-iron gate and onto the property.
Images flooded his memory as his foot touched the ground.
The lantern slowly burning out. So slowly. Leaving him alone in the dirt room with no light. Noises on the other side of the thick wooden door. He was so scared.
Clawing his way down the hallway, pushing through mounds of wet soil, to emerge in a new sealed-in room. The misty black hand reaching for him as the wood panels splintered open to reveal a young Deputy Cliff, eyes wide and disbelieving.
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