There was something in the way that he had looked back at me that had caused me to falter on the path. It happened as the final light of day, having caught every crease of his features, darkened his deeply sunken eyes. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn to have seen the devil, or followed something long dead back up that old pathway….
8:15 p.m.
We had returned to find Scott and Red Cloud barbecuing steaks. They had placed grates over the existing fire-pit in front of the cabin and sat at an old picnic table that they had dragged to the fire-side. The smell was intoxicating, and as the sparks danced high into the night, I sighed deeply, finding comfort within the warming glow.
“How do you like your steak done?” Scott had asked the old man as he reached for a covered plate.
Frank appeared more than pleased, taking a seat on the bench and saying, “Rare—thank you kindly.”
Red Cloud had already prepared ours and promptly brought them to us on plates. As taking his seat at the table, we began indulging the pail of potato salad and assorted condiments. Rich had brought a cooler filled with bottled juices and assorted soda. Dropping it near the table’s edge, he took a seat on the bench beside me. No sooner had he done this than did I feel a pinch, swatting at an enormous mosquito that had rested upon my left shoulder!
“Consider yourself lucky.” Frank had chuckled as Scott served the old man’s steak, and looking to me, pointed his knife, “It’s the end of the season, and that’s the last of those nasty little bastards.”
“Are they bad up here?” Scott had asked, as taking a seat beside Red Cloud, he nervously glanced into the dark and surrounding pines.
“I’ve seen men wipe their arms and be running with blood from all the bites.” Frank cut into his steak, and chewing loudly at the tender morsel, said, “Ask Red Cloud over there--,” He waved a fork at the old native, “Most of the boys use to rub diesel on their arms and legs to avoid the damn things.”
Red Cloud only nodded in silent agreement. Focused upon his food and the night, it was apparent that something beyond our conversation had caught his attention. I had looked over as his dark eyes flashed suspiciously in the fire-light, but said nothing. I would wait until we had an opportunity to speak privately.
“I see what you meant about the darkness here.” Rich frowned, gesturing with a nod into the cloud-filled heavens, “Since it clouded over, it feels like this whole place was just swallowed into the mountain….”
“When it gets dark out here and clouds up like this, you can’t see five feet in front of yourself without a lantern.” Frank chewed at his dinner without even looking up, “It’s even worse when the fog rolls in off the lake. Something could be standing not five feet away and you’d never see it, until the last moment….”
“Maybe we should have put more lights on around the place?” Scott swallowed hard, and looking into the utter blackness, said, “I noticed lamp posts on the dock by the storage sheds.”
Frank pulled the keys out of his pants pocket, and tossing them onto the table, grinned, “If anyone feels like going back down there tonight. The light panels are just on the inside of the main office, be my guest.”
“I know where they are. I will go.” Red Cloud volunteered.
The opportunity for a private moment to speak having arrived, I quickly offered to accompany him, “We should work in pairs through the night. I’ll go with Red Cloud and deal with the lights. Maybe when we get back, Scott can work with Red Cloud on the west end, and I’ll go with Rich to the far Eastern side of the camp. We can work our way to the dock and meet there for the return to the cabin.”
“Are you boys planning to wander around the place all night?” Frank seemed strangely unsettled with the thought.
“That’s how we conduct our investigations.” Rich explained, “We search the area until we locate a focal point. That’s usually a place perceived as a cold spot, or has some unique quality foreign to its surroundings.”
“So, you just wander around until something scares the crap out of you.” Frank thought aloud, “And then, you wait around in the dark for something to happen?”
“In short, yes.” Rich shrugged, sliding his dinner plate away and drawing out his pipe. He filled the bowl and quietly lighting it, tossed the match into the fire-pit, “If nothing happens—you get your clean bill of sale.” He hesitated, his eyes flashing behind his glasses in the flames, “But if something does happen? We get a story….”
“If something does happen—I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be you,” Frank glared across the table at Rich, his words sounding more like a threat than a statement, “There are worse things in these woods than a few spooks….”
There was a sudden stillness around the table, as the crackling coals of the fire-pit snapped behind us and we all stared upon one another.
“What are you really afraid of, Frank?” Gazing upon our host in an almost defensive manner, I confronted him.
Hesitating but briefly, he stared right back at me. His features long and drawn, eyes wide and filled with uncertainty, “Many men have died in this place since my brother first established the camp in 1932. Some by accident, some murdered, and there were even a few who took their own lives. Harrison Hot Springs is a tourist paradise and Harrison Mills holds the history and treasures found and left here over time. But Fleetwood B Camp, well, we’re sitting in the darkness between the mountain and the lake. Somewhere between death and the devil….”
His wide and staring eyes held us all captive, as caught within the moment, not a single word was uttered. Frank appeared terrified for the first time. It was almost as though the coming of the night had forced him to cast aside his deceptive cloak, and reveal the terror that truly haunted him.
In that vulnerable state, I could not resist taking hold of the moment, and looking straight into his eyes, asked, “What do you believe, Frank. What’s really out there?”
It was as though he had been snapped awake from a terrible dream. As shaking his head, he sipped at a can of soda and quietly said, “That’s what you boys are here to find out.” His attention fell upon me again, “You know, when this camp was in operation the noise scared things off for miles. But it’s been quiet here for a long time now. And in the darkness--,” He motioned to where Scott still indulged his meal, “And cooking up a mess of meat like this—we’re bound to have caught the attention of something. I suppose that if there is anything out there—and you’re all sitting around in the dark? Well, it’ll find you soon enough….”
“I warned you of the same thing.” Red Cloud stared at me, his expression revealing something far deeper than a simple concern for anything natural, “As the colder months come, the bigger animals also arrive, looking for meals before hibernating. These hills are full of hungry things in the night….”
“You fella’s best watch yourselves out there--,” Frank sipped at his coffee, “You never know what you might run into…”
“How is your son, Harold?” Red Cloud asked, taking the old man’s attention from me.
Frank’s face suddenly twisted and was torn with emotion. He stared into the blackness above, the words almost failing him, “My son—Harold, died in an accident last year.”
“I am very sorry to hear this.” Red Cloud looked away.
“It should never have happened. Even the insurance investigators couldn’t make head or tails out of it.” Frank spoke as though he could not accept, or simply refused to believe it, “He’d worked around heavy equipment all of his life. He was a mechanic for a logging out-fit up North. One day, he had one of those forty ton forklifts on a hydraulic jack, and was servicing it. And for no apparent reason, the forks just came down on him. It was so bad that we had to cremate what was left of him….”
Remembering the story that Red Cloud had told me about young Tony, who had been crushed in the path of Harold’s forklift all those years ago, I swallowed hard. It may have just been some kind of ghastly coincidence, but it now troubled me. A
nd from the look in Frank’s eyes, I suspected that his return to Fleetwood B was far more than just a ghost story….
“We should get to those lights.” Red Cloud broke the stillness by gathering the empty paper plates; he moved from the table and tossed the remains into the fire-pit.
“Don’t be too long with those keys--,” Frank reminded him with a suspicious glance, “I’d hate to have to load the rifle and come looking for you out there. My eyes and nerves aren’t what they used to be—especially in the dark….”
10:15 p.m.
We had taken lanterns and hand-radios before leaving the safety of the group. In the last moment I had gone back into the cabin for a sweater, while quietly retrieving the revolver from the old doctor’s bag. It was unlikely that I would need it, but I felt better knowing that it was near.
It night had cooled considerably as it had clouded over, and the blackness seemed almost impenetrable. Our lanterns cast a pale glow as we slowly made our way back down the dirt road and toward the dock. I had known the stillness of the night all too well while growing up in a small town. But I had never experienced anything quite like this. It was almost suffocating, as utterly blinded beyond the beams of our light, we anxiously hurried along.
I had waited until we were a considerable distance from the cabin before looking to Red Cloud, and quietly asking, “What’s troubling you? I saw that look in your eye over dinner.”
He was apprehensive at first, but scowling and shaking his head, spoke softly, “I do not like mysterious accidents—and have never trusted Frank. He is a snake—do not turn your back on him for a moment.”
“You don’t honestly believe that he had anything to do with his own son’s death?”
“I do not know what to think.” Red Cloud sighed deeply, “All that I do know is what I feel. And everything in this place and about Frank feels very wrong.”
“Is it possible that the loss of your brother—and coming back to this place, so near Road’s End, might be part of that feeling?”
“No—I have made peace with those things long ago. This is something else—something far older, fouler. It is a matter that concerns Frank, and an issue to be resolved between him and something that still waits at the bottom of that lake….”
I had known the old man long enough to be able to trust his gut instinct. And even if I hadn’t, the cold and greasy lump that now formed in the pit of my stomach was telling me the same thing.
“Not even the sound of a single cricket or living thing in the night.” I had pondered the blackness as we passed between the tall earthen mounds on either side of us. Shivering as the cold now crept into everything.
“The crickets are still when the weather cools--,” He explained, “And those that hunt by night rarely make a sound. And, if they do?” He glanced over at me, “It might be the last sound that you will hear….”
“I suppose that the silence is good--,” I had swallowed hard and shivered in a cold gust, “If anything should happen out here, we could hear if for miles.”
As we reached the bottom of the hill and came into the clearing, I could hear the waves lapping against the shore near the dock. The wind was stronger in that place and the cold drafts whistled and moaned through the tall pines. In the distance and through the dense branches, I could make out the lights of the little town of Harrison Hot Springs on the far side of the lake. They twinkled like stars, so close and yet seeming a million miles away….
We had moved at a quicker pace as while moving away from the forest and onto the path before the dock. It was apparent in the way that he now hurried me ahead of him, that something had deeply disturbed him. I kept watching his expression for some warning, an alert as to what had caused this sudden anxiety. But he had said nothing, his dark eyes flashing suspiciously as he waved the lantern in a wide arc and kept looking back out and onto the path behind us. It was almost as though he had expected to see something following from out of the blackness….
“Let’s be quick about this.” Red Cloud urged, as moving up the steps and onto the dock, we swiftly made our way toward the main office.
It had only taken a few moments as he had fumbled with the keys, and opening the door, slipped inside. I stepped back, suddenly blinded, put a hand before my eyes and looked up at the two lamp posts that stood on either side of the buildings. They cast a yellow and haunting glow upon the old and weathered structures. But there was no comfort in that light, as it sent long and deep shadows creeping from all about us.
I turned suddenly to the sound of a loud splash. It had come from near the dock’s edge as something heavy had dropped into the dark waters from just beyond sight! Raising my lantern higher, I walked across the dock and attempted to peer out and over the edge of the logs. I heard only the soft sound of the waters splashing while lapping at the docks edge and rocky shore. The darkness revealing nothing more than the reflection of the lantern’s dull glow within the waves. I stood there, holding absolutely still, and listened to the gentle sounds of the icy water from beneath the dock. It was almost mesmerizing, as the rhythmic beat of the waves seeped into my mind and soul. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, as I suddenly sensed that I was no longer alone in the darkness….
In that moment, I suddenly felt something beneath me give way, as with a loud splintering the old boards snapped under my weight! Unbalanced, I fell forward, gasping as a firm hand grabbed at my collar, and heaved me backward and onto the dock!
“Be careful.” Red Cloud had choked, as drawing me away from the water’s edge, he nervously looked out and over the lake, “This place is old, and the wood has withered and grown weak in places.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if we can trust anything about this place.”
He stood silent for several moments, just staring out and over the lake toward the distant and blinking lights of town, then turned to me and solemnly said, “You know, Rich was right in what he told Frank. Over time people do not remember the things that happened, or the names of those involved. But the place where blood is spilled and life is lost never forgets and never forgives.”
The radio suddenly squawked, startling us both. I drew out the long aerial and answered. Relieved to hear Rich’s voice as he shouted, “Michael—it’s Rich, do you copy?”
“Loud and clear--,” I responded, “The lights seem to be working just fine.”
“We can see that. Stay there--,” Rich spoke through a field of static, “I’m coming down with Scott to meet you. We might as well get this show on the road.”
“I copy that--,” I replied, thinking briefly before asking, “What about Frank?”
“He’s locked himself in his room for the night.” Rich answered, “He gave us the spare key to the cabin.”
Biting down on my lip, I peered suspiciously at Red Cloud, and speaking back into the radio, said, “Do me a favor, would you? Bring NR1 down here. We can use it as a mid-point base for the night.”
“Copy that.” Rich agreed, “On our way down now, clear.”
“That was a good idea—about bringing the truck down.” Red Cloud turned to look up the hill as we saw the lights of NR1 moving toward us, “It might be safer than that old cabin….”
Judging by the stern reflection in his gaze and the cold lump in my stomach, I sincerely doubted that anything or anyone would be safe in that place….
Rich had parked the truck near the dock and between the buildings, offering us a view of the main office and boathouse. He had also brought coffee and tea, of which he had prepared over the fire-pit and poured into several thermoses. We had then stood around NR1, sharing donuts and hot drinks as we organized our search routes.
“I think that it would be best that you kept these--,” Red Cloud had given me Frank’s keys, “We will not need them--,” He motioned at Scott with a nod, “Our route does not involve entering any of the main structures.”
“We can manage the bathroom, cook-house and main buildings just fine--,” Rich appeared to have been distrau
ght, but determined, “And, we’ll investigate the cook’s cabin as well.”
“That leaves us on the east side of the camp--,” Scott bit into a donut as he leaned closer into the lanterns’ glow from atop the trucks hood, “And all those spooky old cabins.”
“All that we need to do at this point is to have a good look around,” I had explained while sipping at my tea and shuddering in the cold gusts, “We also need stay in constant radio contact—and keep our eyes and ears open. You all heard what Frank and Red Cloud said about the local wildlife. We really don’t need any unpleasant encounters.”
“Radio check every twenty minutes--,” Rich announced, “And when we’re done, we all meet back here at the truck. If anyone should hear anything in that forest—cut the trip short and get back here right away.”
“You don’t have to tell me that twice.” Scott finished his donut and looked into the blackness beyond the dock and lamp lights glow, “I’ve been a hunter most of my life and never been in a place as quiet as these woods.”
“The forest is always alive--,” Red Cloud had agreed, “And it was never like this here before. Something has changed.”
Finishing my tea and placing the cup down on the hood of the truck, I looked between my friends, “Just stay alert, avoid the forest at all costs and stay together, no matter what.”
Rich had looked at his wrist-watch beneath the lanterns’ glow, “It’s just a little after nine now. Let’s synchronise our watches and call the first radio check at nine thirty.”
We had all done as he had requested, and taking our lanterns from off the hood of the truck, nodded in parting as we had gone our separate ways.
“I hope that they are going to be okay.” Rich kept looking over his shoulder as our friends made their way back down the path.
“They are both experienced hunters and have spent a great deal of time in the forest.” I had replied, “If anyone has any trouble out here, I would put the odds against us.”
Sanctum Arcanum Page 7
