by Amy Cross
“Stay close,” I tell him, as I step forward and see that there's some kind of shaft rising up from the tunnel system, toward a circular patch of starlight high above. “It looks like some kind of chimney or access point,” I mutter, shining the flashlight up and seeing the metallic glint of a ladder. “Maybe it leads to one of those little open holes in the forest floor. You've seen those, right? The ones with the metal bars over them?”
“Could someone climb out through one of them?”
“I have no idea,” I reply, before reaching up and grabbing the bottom rung of the ladder, “but I'm going to check. Give me a lift up.”
He offers a quick boost, and I manage to haul myself up until I'm firmly on the ladder. The set-up seems secure enough, so I set the flashlight between my teeth and start climbing. I can't even begin to understand why anyone would build these chimneys into the tunnel system, but I've come across several of the little grated openings over the years, so it's no surprise that they exist. As I get to the top and find my exit blocked by several metal bars, however, I'm starting to wonder if this is actually some kind of ventilation point. I try to move the bars aside, but they're firmly in place, so I'm pretty sure the chimney wasn't designed to allow anyone in or out.
“Do you see anything?” Lewis yells up at me.
“There's nothing to see,” I mutter, peering through the bars and seeing the dark forest. The view is pretty desolate, and there's no sign of movement. I guess these little openings are the origin of the myth about the devil poking his head up in Devil's Lookout.
“So are we gonna be in these tunnels much longer?” Lewis calls out. “It's getting pretty cold, and I'm not sure there's much point in us being down here.”
“I want to check a little further,” I tell him, figuring that there's nothing much to be doing up here at the opening. “I'm coming down, so -”
“I really wanna get out of here!” he shouts suddenly, his voice filled with fear. “Boss, I get it, you wanted to make sure there was nothing here, but we've done that so let's go!”
“What's gotten into you?” I ask as I start climbing back down. “I leave you alone down in the tunnel for five seconds and -”
Suddenly a gunshot rings out, sounding ear-splittingly loud in such a tight space. Shocked, I almost fall from the ladder, and it takes a moment before I'm able to steady myself.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell.
Looking down, I can see the beam from Lewis's flashlight flickering in the tunnel below, but there's no sign of Lewis himself.
“Say something!” I shout. “What did you see?”
“It's not right!” he hisses, and now he seems to be panicking. “Can't you feel that? Something's wrong here, something's telling us to get the hell out! I think I saw... I don't know what it was, but I think I saw something moving in the darkness!”
Hurrying down the ladder, I drop into the tunnel and land awkwardly. By the time I get to my feet and shine the flashlight back the way we just came, I can barely see Lewis in the distance. He has his back to me, aiming his gun into the darkness as if he's spotted something coming up from the way we just came.
“What the hell's going on down here?” I yell. “Tell me what you saw!”
“I don't know!” he stammers, stumbling back to join me while keeping his gun aimed at the darkness. “Maybe it was nothing, but I swear I saw movement back there! I think I heard it, too! There was a kind of scratching sound, like something digging its nails against the rocks!” He pauses for a moment, before turning to me with wild, staring eyes. “Didn't you feel it? For a moment, it was like something reached into my chest and started putting its fingers around my heart. And then it just... stopped.”
“Seriously?” Sighing, I realize that he seems to have already lost his mind. “Maybe you should go wait up-top,” I tell him. “I won't tell anyone if you want to go back to the car.”
He keeps his gun aimed for a moment longer, before slowly lowering it and turning to me.
“No,” he says finally, even though his voice is trembling slightly. “I can't leave you down here. Anyway, I think it's...”
He pauses, and I swear he actually looks a little confused.
“I think it passed,” he adds. “I don't feel it so strongly anymore. It was just a brief thing.”
“Are you sure you don't want to go back up? I always leave some spare keys in the dash, so you can get the radio running.”
He shakes his head, even though I can tell he's uncertain.
“Don't wanna go wandering back alone, huh?” I add, trying to get a rise out of him.
He doesn't reply, but I can see from the look in his eyes that I'm at least partly right.
“We won't be much longer,” I continue, “but do me a favor and try to stay focused. There's nothing down here, and if there is, then we can deal with it. Just don't go wasting any more shots. Fear leads to more fear. If you start letting it get to you, it'll take root and grow in minutes. You need to keep it buttoned right down. Is that clear?”
He nods, but he's still a little breathless and I can tell he's not entirely convinced.
I wait a moment, half-considering the possibility that I should order him to go back up, before finally realizing that I should probably just keep him with me. Turning, I start leading him along the tunnel, and this time he keeps pretty quiet. I guess a bunch of spooky stories no longer interest him, not when we're down here and he's already freaked himself out once. He probably just worked himself up into a ball of nerves, and now he's coming out the other side and feeling pretty sheepish.
“There!” I say suddenly, stopping for a moment. “Up ahead. Do you hear it?”
In the distance, from somewhere around the tunnel's bend, there's the sound of flowing water.
“Is it a river?” Lewis asks.
“Only one way to find out.”
We edge forward, with our guns raised, until finally we get to the end of the tunnel and find that it opens out into what seems to be some kind of chamber. I signal for Lewis to stop and stay back, and then I aim my flashlight ahead and see that we've definitely found a room of some kind, albeit one that appears to have a large hole in one of its walls, revealing the starry night sky beyond. I wait, listening in case there's any hint of movement, and then I signal for Lewis to follow.
“What is this place?” he whispers as we step into the chamber. “Is it natural, or did someone carve it out?”
Unable to give him a good answer, I'm instead shocked to see that the chamber is exactly the same as Ramsey's descriptions, with the obvious exception of there not being some random witch-woman impaled in the center. Stepping over to the opening on the far wall, I look out and see that we're a few hundred feet up the side of a small cliff. The vast forest spreads toward the skyline, and I can hear a river running in the darkness below.
“This is what she described,” I mutter, feeling a flicker of concern in my chest. “This must be where she climbed out, and then...”
Looking down into the darkness, I still can't see the river, but it's hard not to imagine the sight of Ramsey plummeting into the water. I can't even begin to believe that my daughter was scrambling about up here, and the more time I spend in these tunnels, the more I realize that it's an absolute miracle she made it out alive. This place is exactly how she described, with one obvious exception.
Turning, I shine the flashlight at the center of the chamber.
No. Definitely no witch. No woman impaled by a bunch of wooden posts. I guess that part must have been a figment of Ramsey's imagination.
“It all looks empty to me,” Lewis points out, having headed over to the chamber's far side. “Maybe it's just a natural formation after all.”
“Make sure there's no sign of anyone else having been here,” I reply, still shining the flashlight all around. “I want to be certain.”
For the next few minutes, Lewis and I continue to explore the chamber, but it's looking increasingly clear that this is just s
ome random gap in the tunnel system, albeit one with a very striking view. Still, every so often, I feel a faint sense of someone over my shoulder, only to turn and find that Lewis is all the way on the other side of the space. I keep telling myself that the sensation means nothing, that I'm succumbing to perfectly rational human fears, but at the same time I can't shake the feeling that someone else is here in the room with us. I guess that's why, even though we've already double-checked the chamber, I insist on taking another look around, and then another.
Deep down, I feel like I'm missing something.
“Boss,” Lewis says suddenly, after several minutes of silence. “Have you noticed our footprints?”
Looking down at the dusty floor, I realize our prints are criss-crossing the space, marking the paths we've been taking during out search.
“Very pretty,” I mutter, “but -”
“I mean over there,” he adds, pointing toward the center of the chamber.
I turn and look, and I'm surprised to see that there's a patch that remains completely undisturbed. Stepping closer, I shine my flashlight at the section of mud and dust, and it's clear that Lewis and I somehow both avoided walking in that particular area. I guess the whole thing could be a coincidence, but after a moment I realize that in some instances our footprints seem to have been headed straight for the patch, only for us to take a sharp left or right turn away each time. It's almost as if, subconsciously, we've both avoided walking through that part of the chamber.
“What do you think it means?” Lewis asks.
Stepping forward, I raise my flashlight, but there's still no sign of anyone. Still, as I get closer to the patch, I feel that same sensation of there being somebody very close to me. In fact, it's almost as if there's a person right here in the middle of the room, someone invisible but also someone who Lewis and I have subconsciously been avoiding. Someone right in front me, in the empty air.
I hesitate for a moment, before slowly starting to reach out with my right hand, waiting in case I feel anything.
“What was that?” Lewis says suddenly, turning and shining his flashlight back toward the tunnel.
I turn and watch as the beam of light dances across the rocky wall.
“I didn't hear anything,” I tell him. “Don't let yourself get distracted. Just -”
Before I can get another word out, I hear a distant scratching sound, as if something is coming this way. Instinctively, I reach for my gun, and then I see that Lewis already has his ready.
“Something's definitely coming this way,” he stammers, taking a step back while raising his gun toward the dark tunnel. He's panicking again. “Don't even try to tell me that's a figment of my imagination.”
I wish I could tell him that, but I hear the sound too. Something seems to be scratching its way furiously along the tunnel, and at the same time I'm starting to feel a heavy, pounding sense of fear in my chest. Raising my gun, I tell myself that there's no reason to be scared, but the fear seems to be filling my body and even making my hands shake.
“Oh God, please no,” Lewis whimpers, taking a step back as if he feels the same. “Make it go away...”
“Stand your ground,” I say firmly.
“I can't do this,” he stammers. “I can't just stand here and wait for it to kill us!”
“Lewis -”
“I'm getting out of here!”
He turns and hurries past me. It takes a fraction of a second for me to realize what he means, and I turn just in time to see him hurrying toward the opening. Rushing after him, I grab him by the collar and pull him back before he can just out into the night air and throw himself to the river far below.
“Are you insane?” I hiss, pulling him further into the chamber even though he's still trying to get back over there. “You'd never make it!”
“Your daughter did!”
“That was a goddamn miracle!” I tell him, shoving him back against the wall. My heart is thumping in my chest and I'm terrified, but my fear has no specific target. Looking around, it takes a moment before I even remember the scratching sound in the tunnel.
“What is it?” Lewis sobs.
“It's nothing!” I snap. “It's all in our minds! It's just -”
Suddenly I see it. A pale, thin-limbed man is crawling along the tunnel, finally emerging from the darkness as he gets to the opening. He looks around for a moment, as if he's sniffing the air, and I swear his eyes are just two black, rotten pits. His mouth, meanwhile, is red and sore-looking around the edges, and as I aim my gun at him I can't help noticing that he's almost completely naked, with just a few scraps of clothing clinging to his body. So far, he's looking over toward the far corner of the chamber, as if he hasn't spotted us yet.
“Oh God, no,” Lewis whispers.
Suddenly the pale figure turns and looks straight at us, and then he lets out a rasping scream before scurrying across the room. As he reaches us, I step back against the wall and fire a shot at him, but my hands are trembling so much that I miss. This gives him the chance to slam his body against me and throw me to the ground, sending my gun clattering across the ground in the process.
Behind me, Lewis screams and fires several times as I reach for my gun.
Sixty-Two
Ramsey Kopperud
“What is this place?” I ask, stepping into the candlelit house and finding myself in what appears to be a neat, well-maintained living room complete with several leather sofas and a bookshelf that lines the far wall. The whole place seems remarkably civilized, although my sense of awe is cut short as soon as I hear the door swinging shut behind me.
I turn, startled to find that the man has sealed us inside.
“For warmth,” he explains with a faint smile. “The cold night air plays havoc with my chest. Don't you suffer the same way? Perhaps not, being so young.”
“Who are you?”
“What do you want? A name?” He hesitates for a moment, as if he finds me to be the strangest, most curiously amusing thing in the whole world. “I've been called Sebastian ever since I settled here,” he continues finally. “There have been other names, of course, back when I was traveling. But Sebastian has a certain ring to it and, I must admit, it's much nicer than some of the others. So please, call me Sebastian.”
He heads over to a cabinet next to one of the bookcases.
“Can I interest you in a drink?” he adds.
“Are you the...”
My voice trails off. I'm not sure I can bring myself to ask that question, even though my mind is racing and I keep thinking back to everything Esther told me. She mentioned a man in the forest, a man she referred to repeatedly as the devil, and I'm starting to think that I might have stumbled upon him. Not that he can be an actual devil, of course, or anything like that... Still, I don't believe in coincidences, and even if I did, I wouldn't believe in this one.
“You've met the witch, I believe,” he continues, pouring himself a glass of something dark from a decanter. He pours a second glass, presumably for me. “Sometimes I feel rather bad when I think of her trapped down there, locked in her little prison. It's hard to believe that any mind could shoulder such solitude, especially when she also happens to be in such agony. You know, I'm almost tempted to pull those skewers out of her body myself, just to see what her mind is like after all these years. She was always a remarkable woman, but nobody could withstand such torture. By now, she's probably...”
His voice trails off for a moment, as if he's lost in thought, and then finally he smiles and raises his glass.
“Cheers. Aren't you going to join me?”
“Who are you?” I ask again.
“I already -”
“You told me a name,” I continue, taking a step back. “That doesn't mean I know who you are.”
“But you do know, don't you?” he replies, eyeing me with a hint of suspicion. “Don't play dumb, Ramsey. Don't doubt yourself. By hook or by crook, you've found your way to me, just as I knew you always would. A weaker mi
nd would ascribe your arrival to a prophecy. I prefer to say that this is simply the way the world works. Things find their way to where they're supposed to be. After all, there are rivers of existence that flow only through the mind.”
“Go to hell,” I mutter, turning and heading to the door. “I'm not staying.”
“What's it like, being a whore?”
“I'm not a whore!” I yell, turning to him. “Where the hell do you get off, saying something like that to me?”
“The boys and girls in New York all called you a whore,” he replies, almost purring with pleasure as the words leave his lips. “Wasn't it their chants and taunts that drove you back to Deal in the first place?”
“You don't know what you're talking about!”
“I know who you are, Ramsey Kopperud,” he continues. “I've known since the day, many years ago, when you and your little friend first set foot in the forest. Admittedly I rather lost track of you, and some of my agents in the world made a terrible mess of finding you again, but I never exerted myself too greatly. I always knew that you'd show up when the time was right. After all, back in the old days, you weren't a whore at all. You were an innocent girl. But now you're exactly what you need to be, in order to play your role in this little act of theater. Fortunately, I am prepared.”
“I don't know what the hell you mean!” I sneer, resisting the urge to storm over there and punch that goddamn grin off his face. “Why did you bring me here?”
“You blame me?”
“Why did you bring me here?” I yell, shaking with anger. “You pulled me off the road! You pulled me through the forest! Obviously you want something!”
He hesitates, before taking another sip from his glass.
“I need you to promise that you won't interfere,” he says finally. “You're the only person who can free the witch from her little prison, and I would very much prefer that she remains right where she is. I've come to realize that fighting you would be a rather significant drain on my resources, but fortunately you seem like a reasonable young lady.” He finishes his drink, though he quickly starts drinking from the glass he poured for me. “So we shall make a deal. You'll tell me what you want, and I shall give it to you. And in return, you'll promise to stay well away from that witch forevermore.”
