“A storm of another kind was on the way.
Chapter 18: The Eve of the Storm
“It came on very slowly, I remember that one was peculiar from the start. The world outside seemed to grind to a standstill. No crickets chirruped in the grass, no birds or squirrels bickered in the trees. The penetrating silence that had engulfed the Church when the men disappeared into the tunnels was not confined there. It hung around it like a great, choking fog that wrapped tighter and tighter with every passing second.
“And to make matters worse I could hardly move. I'd been sadly mistaken earlier to believe the gunshot could not be matched. The smashed claw was a monster of a whole other magnitude and I lay there throughout another long night hardly aware of anything except that agony. When I was able I asked the mouse the question that had plagued me: Had she seen the little girl? She said she'd heard her crying as the men had led her down into the tunnels, but upon their return she had not been with them. I suggested that perhaps the magician had bested them and found some other way out, but I knew that was folly. The mouse had seen them reenter the Church and leave out the front door. The memory of the one who'd slammed my claw in the door was crystal sharp in my mind. In his face I'd seen a madness not encountered since the day I'd happened upon an opossum snared in a trap. It had obviously been there for several days before I came upon it and although delirium was evident in its eyes, it had also been extremely, cunningly persuasive as it begged me to come closer. To set it free. I didn't. I knew to go near that animal that day would have been suicide. The desperation and madness had been a living thing in its eyes, and something wild had invaded its soul. The man had had that same deadly look, and the only relief I could find was in the fact that he'd not been the one holding the little girl when I made my somewhat clumsy escape.
“The mouse said they'd been gone two full days and nights. And what of the mysterious stillness in the air? We both knew a storm was coming but nothing in our combined experience had prepared us for this one's fury.
“The mouse went in search of food and I was left alone with increasingly weird and fragmented thoughts while the shadows crept across the length of the Church's walls and floor. This foggy period of unease continued until I realized she was back. And she had something to tell me. There were ghosts about, she said. She could hear them sliding in and out among the trees, rooting around in the undergrowth. She'd heard cries and moans spilling from as far away as the Old Town Cemetery. There were horrible smells issuing among the pines. Little tendrils of malevolence that bloomed into wicked shapes as the eye moved past.
“Then came the voices. Far off at first, but increasingly closer. Loud, angry. There seemed to be more than one argument going on, but we could make no sense of any of it. And as the mouse had warned, the wayward ghosts and other spirits were loose and closing also on the Church. In between the ranting yells of the approaching men and the steady pattering of drops against the nearby windowpanes, I could hear ghostly whispers, their smoky bodies slithering against the glass, their dangerous invitations to join them in the night.
“The men finally kicked their way inside, dripping with rain and cursing blackly. And as their sputtering torches flung ghostly whips of light in all directions, I squinted into the darkness trying to get an idea of how many there were this time. Five, I saw. And worse, the Fat Man was among them. The little girl was nowhere in sight. There was a lot of finger-pointing between the Fat Man and the Ugly One, the one who'd slammed my claw in the door. Soon their argument drowned out the others.
“The Fat Man shook his head angrily and fished around inside his coat pocket before pulling free a small bag. He flung it down with an angry thump on the pew beside him, and the Ugly One broke off his shouting. What followed was a much quieter disagreement conducted mostly by the Fat Man. He didn't look good for his exertions, all panting and red-faced, and it wasn't long before he (in mid-conversation) he collapsed into the pew where the bag lay.
“The Ugly One turned to the others and uttered what must have been a command. They began picking up some of the tools they'd thrown down in the aisles during the various arguments. Then they pushed past where the Fat Man sat wheezing, making their way toward the pulpit. Between the torches and the weirdly muted light sifting in from outside, it was a chaotic scene down below. From where I hunched on the ledge I could get no handle on their intent. But I did feel I had a clue.
“Things were coming apart. The Fat Man's plans were going awry. The Ugly One yelled something back in his direction and when there was no reply, he rushed back to the Fat Man's pew. He bent toward him and muttered something indistinct. The Fat Man made no response. I saw what I thought to be the Ugly One picking up the small bag. The others, concerned, moved closer as if to investigate but were stopped short by him. He pulled them into a tight circle. Several minutes later they broke as a group for the tunnel door, threw it wide, and started down into the darkness.
“I remained hidden until the sound of their voices faded to wavering echoes. Never in my life have I felt more helpless. I knew they were going for the magician but there was nothing on the earth I could do to stop them.
Chapter 19: In the Grip of the Storm
“The wind started around dark. It howled against the windowpanes and the rain came down like it was hungry. I could vaguely make out the shadows of trees twisting in the fury through the rain-splattered stained-glass. A thunderclap boomed, shaking the whole Church, followed by a steady barrage of even bigger raindrops. I backed away from the window for safety. This one would be a monster.
“Trying to ignore both the pain in my claw and the roaring assault outside, I dragged myself to the mouse's chamber entrance. She was waiting just inside, squeaking miserably to herself. The men were gone but the Fat Man remained where they'd left him. Even though the light was thin and cast about it didn't take a genius to know he was dead. We made our way back to the ledge and looked down. His head was tilted at an awkward angle and his mouth was wide open as if still fighting for that last breath. The trek through the forest and the subsequent argument had obviously done him in.
“Another violent peal of thunder broke close by and a lightning bolt broke the spine of a tree outside, ripping it asunder with an ear-splitting crash. A gust of wind followed, bending the very glass in the window frame. The front doors suddenly blew back with a burst of wet leaves and I watched in horror as a familiar, dreaded shape darted inside as if chased by all of hell's demons. The cat! It paused menacingly a few paces inside the doorway and began licking at its mangy fur. I watched as its bony tail waved about in the gloom. Then it suddenly quit licking and looked up with a snap of its neck as if it'd heard something. It commenced to sniff along close to the floor, all the while inching farther along the aisle, deeper into the Church. It was no more than three pews from the Fat Man when the sensation seized me.
“Suddenly the interior of the Church came alive with the green mist! All the cracks and crevices I had not been able to see until now, even the door that led down into the tunnels and which was below and hidden by the balcony, were obvious. And along with this impossibility I felt something else completely grappling for control of my body! I tried to back away from the ledge but I could not move. The mouse was no longer at my side. Panic seized me! I was suddenly cut off from reality, embedded in some terrible trance-like phenomena.
“The only thing left in my control was sight, but it oddly seemed to come from everywhere at once! As if I'd become a ghost myself, left to drift along the rafters to the ceiling for the coming sprawl of centuries. I gazed in amazement, soaking in both everything and nothing at once! Incredibly, I saw myself now huddled close against the brickwork that lined the window. My eyes were closed, the mouse still nowhere to be found. The cat was spooked, crouched down almost into a ball. Its hair standing in a ridge along its back. The glow intensified and in the absence of sound a great pressure bloomed in my inner ear. I felt a bolt of extreme sadness mixed with anger seize me and watch
ed as the entire stained-glass window blew out of its frame in one huge piece with a solid sheet of wind and rain driving behind it. Barely missing my 'real' self, it arched out into the empty air and came apart at the seams when it hit the floor below. I saw flashes of light spark throughout the mist, and glass blew out in a slivered shower. The cat barreled down the aisle and back out into the storm.
“I felt something tear inside me then, something somehow both searingly hot and icy cold at the same time, and then I was sucked away from my ghostly vantage point and slammed back into my real body, slumped near the wall and pelted by the rain. I came back to my true senses in complete confusion, pummeled by the rain, all the while pushed ever closer to the edge of darkness by howling gusts of wind I've never heard or felt matched before! Almost blind with panic, I called out for help. I knew within mere moments I would be either blown off the ledge to the Church floor below or sucked out into the fury of the storm outside. Flying was out of the question. And as usual, the mouse (appearing as if from nowhere) saved my life at the risk of her own, pulling me roughly through the rent in the wall back to her chamber. We rode out the rest of the storm clutching one another tightly as the wind raged with unparalleled vengeance outside.
Chapter 20: Aftermath
“A long while after the wind died down we heard voices. I eased away from the mouse and crept to the ledge. When the men entered the church their loud talk fell away to whispers. I knew why because I could see him too. The Fat Man was washed in the sunlight, sprinkled in tiny sparkling shards of glass that glittered and winked. But it was much different than it had been in the night. Now instead of ghost-like he was actually forbidding, another potential monster to contend with.
“I looked them over quickly. No magician and no little girl. A dizzying wave passed over me. I waited, trying to get a grip on myself as they gathered around the dead man. They poked at him and prodded him and finally left him where he lay. The last one out shoved the doors closed and finally we were alone. Even then, something told me we'd seen the last of them. That we were finally quits.
“Needless to say, I was useless. The smashed claw mixed with everything else had reduced me to nothing. For the next few days the mouse served as my nurse, again. She scurried around daily fetching fresh bedding, stocking our food supply, looking out for danger. By the time I was better I could see she was fairly bursting with a secret.
“And when I asked it came pouring out. What she told me sharpened the images that had been so loose and unconnected in my mind. I remembered how the window had been dashed out of its frame, and the dead man lying below. I remembered the terrible cat and the ominous absence of the magician and little girl. All the things I'd thought nightmares, now confirmed as real. And I also saw the fear burning in the mouse's eyes. It was also then I became aware of the smell.
“The front doors had been closed inexplicably closed since the storm and now it was uncomfortably warm. The Fat Man was spoiling down below. The mouse also whispered of more ghosts in the air, and some strange, mysterious presence that she could not explain. She begged that we should leave. I tried to quell her anxiety by urging her to tell me why she let things build for so long rather than letting me know earlier. I thought the question would give her pause, but she shrugged me off immediately. She would hear none of it. We should leave! she demanded. It was clear that she would not stay another night in the Church. And I also found out she'd been planning our departure while I was incapacitated. Since the window had been blow out, all I had to do, she assured me, was make it to the tree flanking this side of the Church. I was still a little shaky and the claw throbbed unmercifully, but I told her I believed I could make the tree. And the rest of the plan, I wondered?
“Not to worry, she informed me. During my recuperation she'd built up a store of food. Far enough away from this place for safety, she was quick to add. I didn't like the idea of abandoning the Church, but if she believed there were ghosts and other spirits about, who was I to say any different? I'd seen enough already to take her at face value. If she believed it was time to get out, then so be it.
“However, the thought of sleeping in an unfamiliar place was unsettling. The mouse agreed but insisted. She said the green mist still appeared in the deepest part of night, carrying voices within it that she could not understand. I chose to take it no further than that and assured her I was game. What I didn't tell her was that I would be coming back. The voices in the mist...I was pretty sure I knew whose they were, and even had half a mind I'd be able to understand them without too much difficulty.
“We agreed to meet underneath the oak beside the north wall, and the mouse disappeared soon after through the seam she used to get to the bottom floor. I hopped out to the ledge. A bit of sunshine cut a slash across one side of the Church and suddenly the lonely emptiness of the vast place did seem dangerous. I looked down into the shadowy depths where the vague outline of the Fat Man stood out better than the other shadows. The air was indeed growing ripe.
“At the pulpit, catching the last rays of light reflecting in from the stained-glass windows, stood the oak, swaying restlessly in the phantom breeze which rocked it slowly this way and that. But now it no longer bore any obvious scar of the branch that had been ripped away. Now it was healthy and bursting with leaves, more like a bush, really, than a tree. Its continuous rustling produced a mere vague whisper, but although I strained my ears I could not make out any message or intention. Regardless, I had to leave the mystery for another day because in the state the mouse was in, I owed her to speed along.
“I turned to the ragged hole where the window had been. The sun had passed behind a thick cloud bank, leaving only a reddened smudge against the sky. I stretched out my wings, pulled the claw as tight as as could to my underbelly and launched out into empty space. I made the tree safely and by the time I heard the tell-tale patter of the mouse tapping at the base of the oak, I was already waiting in the crook of a low branch.”
Here the gigantic bird stopped and the boys watched as it plucked several crooked feathers from its glistening coat and dropped them to the ground. Connor finally spoke when it became obvious the bird would not be forthcoming. “Did ya'll ever go back?” he asked.
The bird raised its head, its eyes glinting like two diamonds. “Oh yes,” it said. “But that is not a story for now.” It looked out strangely into the weird darkness.
“So there were ghosts?” Ian ventured. The crow nodded very slightly, as though there was more to it than that.
“So what do you want us to do?” Connor said. It had been a long story, and time knot or not, it was time to go home.
“First,” the great bird said, “I want you to go home and sleep on the things I've told you. You know we are in need. I believe you can help us, but I'm not willing to bring you along against your will. I'll meet you here tomorrow if you're still interested.
“Something's wrong at the church,” Ian whispered softly.
The crow hung its head and whistled sharply. “Yes!” it said. “The oak is dying! And somehow, for some unknown reason, we are bound up in its fate. I can feel myself getting weaker every day. My eyesight, my hearing, all fading. It is the same with the mouse and even as old as we are, it is still hard to let go. Especially where there remains a thing undone.”
The time knot slipped then, began to unravel in real time. The cloud bank alongside the moon edged away. The gently lapping water at the pond's bank splashed, and the frozen streetlights flickered violently several times before bursting to full life.
They were now officially late.
“You must go!” the crow squawked. “There's no time! Run! Go home and think on what I've said!” and it dove out of the pine, making for the thicker woods on the far side of the highway without another word.
They watched it go standing side by side. Mysteries were indeed piled high. And much better ones than either of them had dreamed of in the tree house or safely in their beds on quiet nights. Connor finally broke
the silence, saying what they both already knew. “C'mon man! Let's get outta here! We're late!”
Ian nodded, still watching the giant crow as it faded into the darkness. It was only a faint pinprick smudged against the lighter purple sky for another moment until it melted away entirely. They turned and ran back to their bicycles and made off pell-mell to their homes.
Chapter 21: Beginning the Thing
Connor knew when Ian got to his house without even fully realizing it. He high-trailed it to the front door. Ian was just reaching for the doorbell when Connor threw the door wide, pointing his finger and laughing. “Got'cha!” he yelled as the smile spread across his friend's face.
“Yeah, but you thought I was gonna knock!” Ian shot back, pointing his own finger.
Connor nodded. “C'mon!” he said excitedly and they raced back down the hall, Ian with a quick 'hello' to Mrs. Williams as she rounded the corner to close the front door she already knew she'd find open.
Minutes later Ian stood restlessly just inside the bedroom doorway as Connor rooted around in his closet, throwing junk over his shoulder like a dog digging for a bone, searching out his rubber boots. Ian already had his on. However, there was one more thing Connor half-feared they'd also need. “Ah hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly, pulling the police-duty flashlight from the depths of the toy box. The smile on Ian's face slid away, forming a map of concern that reached all the way up to his brow.
“You doan think...” he began, shuddering as the rest of the thought went unspoken. Connor shrugged his shoulders and studied the floor. The vacation when they had gone down into Carlsbad Caverns in Arkansas came vividly to their minds.
“You never can tell,” he said quietly.
The Bone Cell Page 5
