Fear of monsters attracts monsters.
-UNKNOWN
Eight
ULI STOPPED TALKING, AND THEY BOTH FROZE AND looked at each other. Rob lifted a finger and placed it against his lips. The sound had come from a stand of honeysuckle about forty feet to their right. In Rob's mind it could be only one of three things: an animal (which they'd neither seen nor heard since entering the forest), a darkling (but it was daytime and that would be inconsistent with the little trolls' MO), or Jimmy. Since the other two options seemed less likely, Rob could only assume it was his boy. He took one step toward the bush when the rustling sounded again, rattling a few of the thin branches.
In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, Rob said, "Jimmy?"
But only silence responded.
If it was Jimmy, why hadn't he jumped up and run into Rob's arms? Maybe he'd been so traumatized he feared anything that moved. He probably thought Rob was a darkling.
Rob took another step closer to the honeysuckle. His heart thumped. He realized he was holding his breath and blew it out. Looking back at Juli, he noticed she was maintaining a safe distance behind him and had the spotter raised chest high as if to use it as a weapon.
Rob turned back around and took a few more steps forward. "Jimmy? It's Daddy, little buddy. It's OK. I'm here."
Rob paused and heard Juli stop behind him. He remained still, listening, watching the bush for any movement. He was within twenty feet now but still couldn't see past the tight tangle of branches. His son could be right there, just feet away, moments from being reunited, and still Rob felt a sense of fear. And it was that fear that kept him from running headlong into the honeysuckle.
"Jimmy, talk to me, buddy. Tell me it's you."
Still nothing. Then another broken branch and more rustling leaves.
Closer Rob crept with Juli on his heels, armed with her spotter. When he was about ten feet away, he could hear breathing coming from the bush, deep and even, the way Jimmy's breathing sounded when he slept with a stuffy nose.
Suddenly, the bush exploded with movement and sound. Branches broke, leaves flew, and the earth seemed to shake. Rob jumped back, tripped on a fallen limb, and landed on his butt next to Juli.
She took a few quick steps backward, and Rob scrambled back on heels and elbows. They both stared wide-eyed at the large dog that had emerged from the honeysuckle.
Mottled gray and brown, the dog was about the size of a coyote and lanky like one too. Its fur was matted and bloodstained in places and absent in others. It stood with its forelegs spread wide, head dipped, ears back, mouth slightly ajar, watching Rob and Juli from the tops of its eyes.
Rob made a move to stand but froze when the dog took two steps forward and lifted its lips in a nasty snarl. The fur on the back of its neck and all the way down its back bristled.
"Wild dog," Juli whispered.
Blood surged in Rob's ears. On his butt in the leaves he was in such a vulnerable position. He needed to get to his feet, to a position of defense. He moved again to stand, but before he even heard their soft paw steps, three more dogs appeared, one to his right, two to his left.
Juli took another step back. Rob glanced around at the pack. All four were in the same posture of watchfulness: forelegs spread, head dipped, eyes ...
Those eyes. A chill, like a thousand spider legs, ran down Rob's back. Each of the dogs had irises as solid black as a chunk of coal.
He stood behind a tree, watching the events before him unfold. It was like watching a circus act, the guy on the high wire with no safety net, and the suspense was killing him. A smile played across his face. Killing him. What a perfect use of words. Pun intended.
Shields and the girl were facing down the dogs. This could be fun to watch. He looked at Shields's face. The fear was evident. Scrawled across his mug in deep creases and furrows. And the shadow in his eyes, that same look they all shared.
He knew what fear looked like. In fact, he considered himself quite the student of it. Over the years he'd seen fear on so many faces, and it looked the same on everyone.
And he loved it. This is what he fed on, what charged him. If he had a camera, he'd capture that look every opportunity he had and cover the walls of his home with the pictures. Keep them in his pockets, his car, his desk. That way, everywhere he went he could be surrounded by the look of fear; everywhere he looked he could be reminded of the weakness of man.
The dogs were closing in. He held his breath as long as he could and let it out again, then drew in a deep, satisfying breath. The thick aroma of fear was in the air.
"Got any great ideas?" Rob asked Juli, not moving his eyes from the dogs.
"My idea well is dry at the moment."
Rob pushed backward, digging his heels into the soft ground. Juli followed his cue and backpedaled as well. But the dogs matched them step for step, keeping their heads low, drawing in the scent of their prey, tasting the air. And watching, always watching with those black orbs.
"This is one problem I don't think duct tape could solve," Juli said, "but the flashlight might come in handy."
So blinded by fear, Rob hadn't even thought of the flashlight in his hand. He pointed it at the lead dog, the first one he'd come across, and hit the switch. Bright light landed on the dog's face, and it immediately reversed a few steps, shook its head, and sneezed several times in succession, as if Rob had just sprayed lemon juice in its eyes. The other three looked on with curiosity.
Rob shifted the light so it fell on the dog to his right, nearest him, and got the same reaction.
"Direct light," he said. "They hate it. Use the spotter."
"Already tried. No power. I guess our fate is in the hands of your light saber, young Skywalker."
Rob trained the light on each of the dogs' faces as he got to his feet, and he and Juli put distance between them and their new admirers.
"How far can that saber reach?" Juli asked.
They were about fifty feet from the dogs. "Not much further than this."
"Time to show how fast our new sneakers are."
"Now would be a good time for that prayer thing you do too."
"One step ahead of you there."
Still double-clutching the light and moving it from dog to dog, spending enough time on each to keep it at bay and retard the inevitable advance, Rob took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking hands. Around them the trees were silent spectators, as if in awe of the confrontation unfolding before them.
"On three?" Juli said.
"Three's good."
"One..."
"Wait. On three or after three?"
"On three."
They were standing still. The flashlight beam was stretched as far as it could reach and still be potent to the dogs' lightallergic eyes.
"Which way are we running?" Rob said.
"The only way that makes sense, away from them."
If Rob's sense of direction was right, the edge of the woods, where tree line met meadow, was directly behind them and not far away. They hadn't walked that long before coming upon man's best friend here. He stole a quick glance behind him, expecting to see a wall of sunlight a ways off through the trees, but instead all he saw were more trees, more forest. Had they gotten turned around?
Quickly, alternating glances at the woods around them and at the dogs before them, he searched for any sunlight at all, any sign that would lead them along the right route out of the woods. But in every direction, trees and underbrush and kudzu as far as he could see. He felt a prick of panic touch his nerves.
The dogs were getting braver ... and smarter. The lead one, the largest and mangiest of the four, took two steps forward, keeping his head turned to the side so as not to have to face the light.
"On three," Rob said.
Juli placed a hand on his shoulder. "One ... two... "
On "three" they both turned and bolted in the same direction, away from the dogs. Behind them, the dogs yelped and barked, and leaves crunched under their paws
.
Rob pumped his arms and legs as fast as he could. Lowhanging branches slapped at his chest, and his feet struggled to find sure purchase in the soft leaves. Trees-oak, hickory, poplar, loblolly pine-motionless and stalwart, stood by and watched, offering no help at all. Juli was to his right, just behind him. He could hear her lungs sucking air, and she made a little grunting noise with each step.
Jumping a fallen tree, Rob stole a quick look behind him. The dogs were still about twenty feet away, but they had gained ground. He could hear their heavy panting, hear the snarl under their breath, the hunger in their throats. If they didn't reach the edge of the woods and the safety of full midmorning sunlight soon, they'd be overcome by teeth and claws in a matter of seconds.
What unfolded next happened so fast Rob barely had time to process it. Ahead of him and to the left he saw a shadow moving, almost gliding, weaving in and out of forest things, coming fast. The shadow arced left and headed toward them. When their paths met, a man, all baggy clothes and hairy face, bowled over a sapling, screaming like a poltergeist. Suddenly, a light exploded from him, as bright as a star, and just before hitting the leaves, Rob heard the dogs whimper.
Rob rolled a couple times in the leaves and came up covering his face with his arms, fully expecting to be on the receiving end of four angry dogs. But instead he sat looking at the rear of the strange man, walking backward, holding some kind of high-powered light in front of him with both hands. The dogs, on the other end of the light, cowered and alternated between whimpers and snarls. The one on the far right pawed angrily at the ground.
"Move back," the man said. "Back"
Somewhat disoriented from his full-throttle run and spill in the leaves, Rob got his legs under him and stood. Juli was there, her hand gripping his arm. They both started taking steps backward.
As his head cleared, Rob got a better look at the back of the man. He was shorter than Rob by at least a few inches, thin, and had dark gray hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. His clothes were worn but not rags and hung on him like they were several sizes too big. In his hands he held some kind of battery-powered high-wattage floodlight that cast a swath of light twenty yards wide across the forest floor. It was remarkably useful for keeping the dogs at bay.
Juli's hand tightened on Rob's arm. "Who invited Rip van Winkle?"
"Looks like he woke up just in time," Rob said, then to the man, "Where are we going?"
Never taking his eyes off the dogs or letting the light stray from them, the man replied, "Just keep walking. You'll see." His voice was high-pitched and strained, dry sounding.
Rob looked at Juli and shrugged. They both kept walking.
The next time Rob looked at his watch it was nearing nine o'clock. They'd been stepping through the woods for nearly an hour, the man with the light keeping pace, the dogs staying a safe distance away but there, just out of reach of the light, silently stalking.
Finally the man stopped and said, "There, to your left, see the cabin?"
Rob looked to his left but saw nothing other than trees and underbrush and dappled shadows. "I don't see it," he said.
"Look again. Closer. It's there." The man stepped left.
Rob looked at Juli, who appeared just as bewildered as he was, then back into the depths of the woods. This time he saw it. Through the trees, about seventy yards off, he caught the angle of a roofline. "Yes, I see it," he said, pointing to where the cabin stood.
"Head for it," the man said, still sidestepping left.
The dogs pawed at the ground and growled and snarled, their pink tongues licking at the air, growing more agitated by the second. They realized their prey was getting away.
It took Rob and Juli only a minute or two to reach the cabin, a makeshift structure pieced together by plywood and two-by-fours. They both stood there looking at it when the man approached, holding the light at his side, panting heavily. "Get inside. Go. They're coming"
Looking over the man's shoulder, Rob saw the four dogs in full run, ears flat against their heads, tongues lolling from open mouths, hunger in their empty black eyes.
"Go on. Inside," the man shouted. Panic trembled through his voice.
Rob threw the simple lever latch and swung the wooden plank door open. Juli entered the cabin first, and he followed close on her heels. Behind them, the man with the shaggy gray beard stumbled inside and dropped the light.
"Shut it," he yelled.
Rob pushed the door closed. The man was there in an instant, sliding a heavy two-by-six into place across the inside of the door.
On the outside, a dog collided with the door then let out a yelp of frustration. The others began pawing and scratching at the wood, snarling and barking.
From inside the small shelter, Rob noticed for the first time the absence of windows. A single oil lamp burned on a rough wood table that sat in the middle of the place. With the dogs outside, the cabin felt like a cave whose walls were inching closer every second.
Rob collapsed to the floor and sat on his butt, breathing hard. His hands shook involuntarily, and he grabbed them to stop it. Juli sat on a chair at the table, leaned forward, and put her head in her hands. Her back rose and fell to a quick but steady rhythm.
The dogs outside ceased their ranting, and all fell quiet again.
The man moved across the cabin floor with a confidence that comes only from experience, slid a board about eye level on the wall to the right, and peered out a peephole the size of a soda can. He stood like that, on his toes, for about a minute before sliding the board back into place, turning, and saying, "They're leaving. It's OK now." He walked over to the table. 11 It's OK," he said again.
"It's not OK," Rob said, getting to his feet. "None of this is OK. The darklings, or whatever they are, the dogs, these weird woods, you, my son is out there somewhere. He's out there"-he jabbed a finger at the door-"with them."
The man leaned against the wall, and for the first time Rob got a good look at his face. Sunken cheeks were partially hid by a wiry beard; a thin, long nose ended in flared nostrils. Deep-set eyes were spaced wide, and the right one was badly scarred and floated lazily toward the ear.
Rob caught himself staring at the man's eye and quickly looked away.
"It's all right," the man said. He pointed at his eye. "My first encounter with the dogs."
He walked over to the table and sat in the other chair. With the deep crevices around his eyes and mouth, he appeared at least eighty, though he probably wasn't that old. His thin hands rested on the table. Blue veins wound around taut tendons and bones under gauzy, almost translucent skin. Rob noticed the man's hands were shaking too.
"I assume they're not housebroken," Juli said.
The man just looked at her with thoughtful, intelligent, but sad eyes.
Rob extended his hand across the table. "I'm Rob, and this is Juli. Thanks... for what you did out there. If you hadn't gotten there when you did-"
"But I did," the man said, taking Rob's hand. "Thank the Lord for that. The dogs, they're not the friendliest sort. I'm Asher Wiggins. You know, Paul warned about this. He told the Corinthian church to be watchful for dogs that come to destroy." He lowered his eyes to his hands. "I wasn't watchful, and my flock got the worst of it."
"The pastor," Juli said, "of the church in town."
Asher's eyes drifted from his guests and found some spot on the wall. "Was. I wasn't ready, though, and lost my flock." His eyes found Juli's again. "But that's a long story best told around a fireplace with lots of coffee on hand. Lots of tears to be shed there."
Rob looked around the rest of the cabin. In one corner was a small metal cot with some blankets folded and piled high; in another corner were a dry sink and a clumsy-looking hutch filled with plates and glasses.
"It's not often I get visitors," Asher said. "Welcome."
"It's not often we get chased by flesh-hungry dogs and then saved by a mountain man wielding a million-candle spotlight," Juli replied.
Rob wiped sweat
from his brow and leaned both elbows on the table. "What happened out there? The dogs, the light, the effect it had on them?"
Asher pushed away from the table and stood, taking his time to stretch his back. He smoothed his beard with one hand. "You're asking me to explain something I don't fully understand myself. It started back in eighty-seven, with the boy. The fear came then and, shortly after that, the darklings."
He paused and appeared to lose himself in thought for a few moments, like a soldier remembering when life was simpler and innocent before the war. Smoothing his beard again, he returned to the present, and his eyes darkened a tinge. "Things have changed a lot since then. Everything's changed."
"April twenty-ninth?" Juli said.
Asher shook his head. "No, the twenty-eighth. That was the day they brought the boy here, the day fear showed up and everything changed."
Nine
OMEONE LIFTS THE LID FROM THE BOX, AND THE BOY squints and raises both hands to his face to shield himself from the bright light. He hears voices in the distance, but there is someone standing over him. When his eyes adjust, he sees that it is a man.
"Sit up," the man says. His voice is not mean and in any other setting would have sounded kind.
The boy sits up and starts to say something, but the man holds a finger to his mouth. The man's face is young and smooth and white. A kind face. And his eyes are so dark they look like black marbles. When he looks at the boy, it feels like he can see right through his skin and into his guts. It makes the boy shiver.
The man smiles at him, but it isn't the smile of a friend. It reminds the boy of the way a wolf looks on those nature shows he watched with Daddy. That hungry look right before they pounce on a rabbit and bite its throat.
"Come," the man says, offering his hand. "Step out and let me see you.,
Something about the man scares the boy, scares him more than being in the box and the dark. But what scares him even more is what will happen if he doesn't do what the man says. So he gives the man his hand and stands up.
Darlington Woods Page 10
