The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  “It’s gone. All the maps are gone. This was the only thing in there.”

  Brian reached over and held the piece of paper out by the steering wheel. Josh looked down at it and hit the brakes.

  It was a crude drawing, like something a grade school kid would do. A jet black peacock with glowing eyes. Beneath the drawing were two words written in red crayon.

  “No escape.” Josh read the words aloud, icy prickles jabbing into his skin.

  “How the hell did that get in here?” Jan reached forward and grabbed the paper away from Brian. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke? Brian, did you do this?”

  Josh turned around slowly. “If you keep up like this we’re all going to die. We need to stop the hysterics and focus.”

  Jan crumpled the paper and threw it on the ground.

  “I didn’t do this.” Brian turned to look at Jan. “You know that. It was one of them. When was the last time anyone saw the map?”

  “At the creepy gas station.” Jan crossed her arms across her chest. Tears formed in her eyes. “I put it away because Josh was having trouble folding it.”

  “Right.” Josh tried to think beyond the fear he felt. Despite his father’s training, he realized he was out of his depth. “So we had the map then. That’s when they took the maps and put this little note in there.”

  Brian wiped sweat off his forehead, turned around and looked out the back window. “If they’ve been tracking us that far, they’re not going to stop now, are they?”

  “Worse.” Jan laughed and bit her lip. Tears flowed faster down her face. “We didn’t see any cars pass us, right? They went ahead of us and set up a trap.”

  “Either that or there’s more than one set of them.” Brian wiped the sweat away again. “Josh, we need to get off this road. Fast.”

  Josh clenched the steering wheel. Up the road, a white van appeared. Impossibly fast, it shot up the road. It’s engine roared, dirty and loud.

  Rebecca screamed.

  Before Josh could react, the van slammed into them. He felt a sharp crack as his head hit the steering wheel.

  Then there was nothing but blackness and pain.

  Chapter Four

  July 31st

  When Josh awoke, he was in a concrete cell. He blinked something – blood – out of his eyes. Blood-stained leather manacles bound his wrists spread-eagle above his head. His eyes traced chains from each manacle to thick metal hoops in the ceiling.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  His shirt, shoes and socks were gone, his bare chest covered in bruises and abrasions. The floor was stained with red and brown smudges. Dried blood.

  The cell reeked of spoiled hamburger. Two bare bulbs swung gently on short wires from the ceiling. They splashed cold light in puddles. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his brain. The only result was pain. Every part of his body ached. Although he knew it would be futile, he tried to pull his arms free of the manacles. He clenched his jaw as leather chewed into flesh. As expected, he could not get his hand through. The leather held tight.

  He twisted to look over his shoulder. He was alone. The only entrance was directly in front of him. Like something from a horror-movie version of an insane asylum, there was a small window slot in the door. It was covered by a metal slab. On the other side would be a latch to uncover the window, allowing someone to look in on him without actually entering the room. He looked around for signs of a video camera. He saw no evidence of one.

  ‘Stay calm,’ he thought. ‘Dad trained me for this. Keep pulling my hand through the manacle. If I’m lucky, I’ll draw blood. Use it to lubricate the restraint and make it easier for me to escape.’

  Through the walls, he heard a scream.

  The sound was so shrill he could not tell if it was male or female. Either way, a scream like that was never a good thing. Someone was being hurt in ways he chose not to imagine. Moments later he heard another scream. He realized immediately it was Jan.

  ‘At least I know she’s not dead. If these people are after Dad, they’ll keep me alive. At least for now. No guarantee for the others. I have to move quickly.’

  He focused on his right hand, pulling it repeatedly down. Pain shot through his arm as leather bit into flesh. Maybe it was the pain or the streams of blood at his feet, but suddenly memories from the night of the bush party came back to him. He smelled charred flesh and feathers as the creatures’ wings burned. He flinched as he recalled kicking in one of their skulls. In his memory, he moved impossibly fast: like Batman or Jet Li. His father had taught him things, but nothing like this, not when he was so young.

  Then another image flashed before him.

  ***

  He sat on his back porch with Tommy Delonki. It was a hot day in late August, the threat of going back to school imminent. They drank red Kool-Aid from plastic Jurassic Park cups. Inside the house, his mother sang along with the radio as she made the crust for an apple pie. Two skateboards lay nearby on the lawn. Nothing he saw or heard could explain the absolute terror the memory brought to him.

  ***

  “Something happened.”

  As soon as he said the words he wished he’d only thought them. His voice echoed off the concrete walls, emphasizing how enclosed he was. It felt like a coffin. What if they did not come for him? What if they just left him hanging there until he starved to death? Claustrophobia set in.

  “Stop it,” he said. Sweat fell from his hair. The room was hot and humid, just like that day in August. “Think of something else.”

  ‘I can’t stop them. One day they’ll come to take me away and I know I can’t stop them.’

  Josh raised his head.

  Goosebumps ran down his chest. The room suddenly seemed very cold.

  ***

  “I can’t stop them,” Tommy said. “One day they’ll come to take me away and I know I can’t stop them.”

  “You don’t know that.” Josh picked up a chip of concrete that had crumbled off the back porch and threw it across the lawn. “Things don’t work that way.”

  “You don’t know them.” Tommy grabbed his Kool-Aid and held the glass against his cheek. “You’ve never seen them.”

  “Yes I did.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I saw what they did to you last night. It’s wrong and it’s weird but they’re not coming back. Monsters always go away when someone else sees them. It’s a rule.”

  “Maybe.” Tommy set the cup down then looked away. “I still know I’m going to die.”

  ***

  ‘And he did,’ Josh thought. ‘In the hospital a few days after those things in the woods beat him up. Those things with wings. And I’d seen them before. How could I forget something like this?’

  The two voices screamed again.

  One of them cut off suddenly.

  ‘Like a tape had been stopped. Or a throat had been cut. I could really use a miracle right about now. I know two in one day is pushing it, but please!’

  The chain fell from where it was anchored to the ceiling and landed on the floor with a loud clang.

  Josh panted, quick shallow breaths. He felt light-headed, his heart racing.

  When the echoes ended, the only sound he heard was the pounding of his heart. He stared at the door, expecting it to open any second. They had to have heard that.

  The door did not open. They weren’t coming.

  ‘Maybe they didn’t hear. Even if they did, there’s no way they would equate that sound with me pulling the chains out of the ceiling. It’s impossible. A…’

  ***

  “A miracle. That’s what it is. It’s a bloody miracle you weren’t killed.”

  His mother, crying, held him against her chest, tightly, and kissed a cut on his forehead.

  Josh was six years old. His body was covered in scrapes. His head felt funny and he could not feel his left arm.

  “It’s nothing,” he said.

  “Nothing? You were hit by a bus! Your body flew into that tree.�
�

  “Leave the boy alone, Therese.” His father spoke from the doorway. He was dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses, like he was heading to a funeral. “Get him to the hospital. I’ll take care of the police here. And that driver. I will definitely take care of him.”

  ***

  Josh pushed the memory away. ‘Focus. That has nothing to do with this situation. I’m just lucky. Things just work out for me.’ He looked around the room and laughed. ‘Yeah. Things work out for me really well.’

  A voice he recognized as intuition told him he couldn’t risk the second chain falling. He’d been lucky once. He didn’t want to push the luck he had left. As quickly as he dared, he lifted his right hand. The chain rose with it, a harsh metallic sound trickling through the room each time a link moved across concrete.

  By the time his right hand was halfway up, he started to feel the strain. Each link was two inches of thick steel. It was heavy and, after two car crashes, his body was fatigued. Moving quickly would lessen the strain but increase the noise. If his captors caught him with one arm free, they would kill him immediately.

  When his hand reached the manacle, he searched for clasps. Finding it locked, he searched the seams for a weak point.

  ‘If I can pull the metal chain out of the ceiling, I should be able to snap this right off.’ Only problem, he had no idea how he’d done that. All he did was pull and ask for…

  ***

  “A miracle.”

  He looked down at Tommy Delonki. Once his best friend, he was now just a frail 16-year-old lying in the dirt. His body was battered almost beyond recognition. Tears smudged the blood and dirt on his cheeks.

  “It’s nothing.” Josh, crying, held Tommy’s hand.

  “Nothing?” Tommy coughed. A trickle of blood dripped down his lips. “You took on those things. You beat them and you’ve barely got a scratch. You did that all for me? I guess we’re still friends after all.”

  Josh looked over his shoulder.

  Bodies burned behind him, scaly flesh now blackened and charred.

  “They’re called Edimmu,” Josh said. He looked back at Tommy and squeezed his hand. Tommy blinked, the movement slow like a snowflake falling from the sky.

  “How do you know that? I’ve never told you.”

  Josh swallowed and looked down at his hands.

  “I don’t….”

  ***

  “…know.”

  Josh froze. ‘What the hell is an Edimmu? It had to be those winged things but Tommy was right. There’s no way I could know that. Just like I couldn’t pull a chain out of the ceiling. Or survive getting hit by a bus at six. There’s no way I could…’

  The manacles on his both hands clicked open. The left swung away while the right fell with a thud at his feet.

  “Impossible.”

  He looked around the room hoping to find his clothes. There was nothing in the room except him, the light bulbs and the chains.

  And the door.

  Then, Jan screamed again.

  ‘Analyze later,’ he thought. He walked to the door, assuming it would be locked. Still, when he turned the doorknob, he felt a stab of disappointment when it didn’t move. ‘Guess I’ve run out of miracles.’

  ‘Damn.’ He stepped back and studied the door. ‘I’ve got to get them away from her. No idea how many there are or how they’re armed. Dad taught me to run from this sort of thing. He said not to worry about him or Mom, just get myself out of the situation. I always told him I understood. On some level I guess I convinced myself I could be the stone-cold survivor. But I can’t leave her. I couldn’t live with myself. This door’s only going to open from the other side. Guess I know what I have to do.’

  He lifted a length of chain. He swung it above his head several times, gathering momentum. When it built up enough speed to create a humming sound, he threw the chain.

  It slammed into the door.

  The solid metal door didn’t break but that wasn’t his intention.

  All he wanted was to get their attention.

  He wiped sweat from his nose and walked back to the door. He put his ear against the cold metal and heard nothing.

  The screams had stopped.

  He picked up the chain and listened again. He heard a faint, repeating sound, like the tick of a clock.

  Or footsteps.

  ‘Wish I could remember how I killed those winged things. The Edimmu. Guess I’ll have to rely on what Dad taught me.’

  He covered his mouth, terrified for a moment. Then he stretched his arms and shoulders. He had to relax if he was going to do this. Mouth dry, he picked up the chain again. He threw it above him and it shattered into the nearest light bulb. He turned his head as glass showered down on him. When he looked back, the room was darker than he expected. With luck, it would make the fight more equal.

  He shattered the other light and the room went pitch black. Josh closed his eyes to fight disorientation. He walked, arms outstretched, to the door. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see a crack of light under the door.

  ‘Hinges open outward. Can’t hide behind the door. I’ll have to stand in their blind spot and hope for the best.’

  He pressed his body up against the wall two feet to the right of the doorframe.

  He waited.

  With a loud slam the window opened. A square of light lit up the back wall. Josh held his breath.

  “Lookee here, Simon. This bloke wants to have a go.”

  ‘Australian?’ Josh thought. ‘I’d expect a French accent this deep in Quebec. These boys aren’t local.’

  Josh heard two clicks. His father had trained him to recognize the sounds: guns being cocked. That was all he needed to know.

  He heard keys jingle and, after a series of metallic clicks, the door unlocked. It opened slowly. The darkness dissipated into murky gray. Josh saw the silhouettes of two men against the back wall. The one in front was slightly shorter than the one behind. Their bodies cut off most of the light. Josh had only a few seconds before they saw him.

  He sprung.

  With his left hand he grabbed the wrist of the front man’s gun hand. He held it out to the side and, in the same movement, punched with all his strength at his throat. His target’s face went red even as his fingers twitched on the trigger. A bullet shot into the back wall. Josh grabbed the man’s head, pushed it down and smashed his knee into the man’s face. His body went limp. Josh threw him backwards into the second man. Instinctively, the bigger man’s hands went around his friend, trying to break his fall. Josh tensed the index and middle fingers of his right hand and stabbed them straight through the second man’s left eye. When he took his hand back it was covered in red and white goo. The second man screamed, hands rushing to cover his wound. Josh stepped on the wrist of the first man’s gun hand. He put his weight on it until the man let the gun go.

  Josh picked up the pistol and shot both men in the head.

  The echoes hung in the air for a long time.

  ‘That was too easy,’ he whispered. ‘Seriously. How did I do that? I’ve only fired guns at the firing range. Dad said if I was fighting for my life I had to be willing to kill. He said when the time came it was just about death, yours or the other person’s. Still, shouldn’t I be more freaked out? I killed these guys and I feel nothing.’

  He stared at the gun in his hand. A moment later he bent down to retrieve the second man’s gun. It was the first time he really looked at his captors.

  The shorter man was a slightly balding redhead. The one in back bore an uncanny resemblance to a young Robert Redford. Both wore white surgical gowns over dark clothing.

  ‘Not what I was expecting,’ he thought. ‘Maybe Rebecca was right. Maybe this isn’t random at all. Maybe we are hostages. But if they’re after my Dad, why weren’t they questioning me? Dad said they would shoot a video with me to prove I was still alive. Who are these people?’

  He stepped over the bodies into the hallway. The door to his cell was one of ma
ny that lined both sides of the corridor.

  ‘So many doors,’ he thought. ‘I could shout out for Jan, try to find out where she is. Stupid. That would give me away. I’ll just have to check the doors one by one.’

  Josh stopped in front of the next door and cautiously opened the window. Inside was a young woman in a torn blue dress. She hung from the ceiling just as like he had. Intravenous tubes pumped black and green fluids into her body. Strange symbols were drawn in blood down her arms.

  ‘Who are these people?’ He shook his head and closed the window. ‘Questions for later. I have to find Jan and get out of here.’

  The next door on the right was open. It led to a brightly lit room with three operating tables equally spaced around the room. One bed was empty. Jan was in the second. His eyes froze on the third.

  “Brian.”

  Josh ignored Jan’s pleas and stood over his friend’s body. His legs had been removed. On a nearby metal tray sat a surgical saw with pieces of flesh embedded in the teeth of the blade. Brian’s face was stiff, open mouth frozen in a scream that would last forever.

  “Josh, you’ve got to snap out of it,” Jan said. “Help me.” It wasn’t the words that got to him; it was the surprisingly calm tone. He forced himself to turn away from Brian and untied the straps that bound her to the table. She wore a blue dress identical to the one he’d seen on the other woman. The same strange symbols were drawn in blood down her arms.

  “Are you okay?” He asked. “What were they doing to you?’

  “I don’t know.” Jan slipped off the table. “They said I was a candidate. Kept muttering something about Eyeness and Activation. Who cares? They’re crazy people. I’ve seen at least five of them. They come in shifts. Two left a little while ago.”

  “It’s okay. I killed them.”

  Jan’s eyes went wide and she took a step back from Josh.

  Josh passed her one of the guns. “Take this. I know how much you hate guns. Don’t worry about being accurate. If you see someone coming you don’t recognize, point and shoot. Have you seen the others? Rebecca or Matt?