"Correct"
Nana's words were there: "Three of 'em. Like a trinity."
"A trinity," Rob said. He looked at his watch. It was nearing noon. A sudden sense of urgency crashed over him like a wave. "So what now? I have to-"
His sentence was cut short by the sound of crying. The sound of a child crying.
Ten
HE BOY," ASHER SAID, HIS EYES WIDE AND SHIFTING between Rob at the wall and Juli at the table.
Rob rushed for the door. "Jimmy."
"No," Asher yelled. He jumped up and threw himself between Rob and the door.
Rob stopped short. "Get out of my way, Asher."
Juli was there too, gripping Rob's arm. "This isn't the way, Rob."
Rob spun and returned to the peephole. He could still hear the crying. It was definitely Jimmy. He knew his own son's cry. Every parent does. It was coming from the far left of the cabin. Outside the cabin all was still motionless. The only sound was the soft cry of a child. His child.
Rob turned to Asher. "Do you have a gun or anything?"
"No. You can't go out there. It's a trap."
Rob felt anger and panic rise in his throat with the taste of bile. "A trap? I don't care. That's my son out there." He grabbed the light Asher was carrying when he rescued them. Flipped it on and off. "Get outta my way. I'm going out."
Asher must have seen the fierceness in Rob's eyes because he slowly backed away from the door.
Juli approached him. "Rob, I've heard of some pretty bizarre suicide attempts, but nothing like this."
"Get out of my way, Juli. Jimmy's out there. My boy. I need to go to him."
Reluctantly, Juli bowed her head and sidestepped. "You're not ready to face this alone."
Rob stopped short of the door and looked back at her. She was still facing the other way, head hung low. "What's that supposed to mean? Not ready. What does that mean, Juli?"
"Fear rules in your heart too." Her voice was low, somber. "You're not ready."
Rob had no time for her nonsense. His heart ached for Jimmy, to hold him again and wipe his tears like he used to. He gripped the light in one hand and lifted the two-by-six with the other. The door swung open...
... and the forest greeted him like an executioner.
When Rob was gone, Juli pushed the door closed and leaned against it. Her stomach growled like a grump.
"We have to go after him," Asher said, his face showing its age in the candlelight.
"We don't have to," Juli said. The words sounded thick and brusque. Worse than she intended, but her emotions were showing now. She was unable to stop him, and it hurt.
"Then we should. It's suicide. You said it yourself. The darklings... " His words trailed off as he stood staring at her.
They both knew what it was, and Juli knew she had to let Rob go. He wasn't ready, but he had to find that out for himself. The hard truth was, she could persuade and warn and even pray, but she couldn't stop him. Some things had to be experienced to be learned.
Juli shook her head and looked Asher right in the good eye. "We shouldn't. He has to face this alone."
Asher scurried to the peephole and pressed his eye against it. His hands were noticeably shaky. When he turned back around there was a wild expression on his face, the look of panic and terror. "He's gone. Out of view." He started pacing the floor. "We have to help him. His boy... it's a trap."
Asher made a move for the door, but Juli was there first, pressing her back against it, arms and legs spread like she was holding it shut against a torrent of wind and rain.
Armed with Rob's Maglite, Asher stood before Juli like a gladiator proud of the fact that he was about to die. "I have to help him. He doesn't know what's out there, what they're capable of."
Juli steeled herself. "You'll have to go through me, and you don't look like the type to hit a woman."
"I haven't yet."
"Then let's keep the streak alive."
Slowly, like the melting of butter, Asher's countenance changed. The lines of his face softened, the fierceness in his eyes dimmed, and his arm, once holding the flashlight high like a sword, lowered to his side. Sadness now colored his features, and he looked like he was about to cry. "I have to help him."
"You can," Juli said. "But not armed with an attitude and a flashlight."
Asher walked over to the table, placed the flashlight on it, and sat in one of the wooden chairs. His shoulders slumped, and his face looked like it would melt off his skull at any moment. "I have to do something. I have to go to him."
Still pressed against the door, Juli relaxed her muscles and took a step away. "That time will come, but not now."
"When?"
"It'll come."
Asher shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair. "I lost my flock once because I wasn't prepared; I wasn't watchful." He looked at her with that one eye; the other glared at the door. "I can't let it happen again."
"It won't, Asher. It won't."
"How do you know?"
"I don't. But faith is a powerful thing."
Asher nodded thoughtfully. "It is."
Juli approached the table and sat across from Asher. She thought of how much he'd suffered in these woods, both at the fangs of the dogs and the fangs of guilt. She reached for his hand and took it in hers. "There is something we can do to help him now."
"Pray."
"Yes. Pray like we've never prayed before."
Trees. Leaves. Thistles. Honeysuckle. Kudzu. The forest consisted of nothing more. Jimmy's cry sounded close and a mile away at the same time. To Rob's left.
He held the light with slippery palms, willing his hands to stop shaking. His legs felt weak, his feet heavy.
Jimmy's cry was not one of pain. It was the soft weep of sadness.
Looking around at the undergrowth, watching for any kind of movement and fully expecting an attack, Rob walked in the direction of the crying. "Jimmy?"
But no answer came, only the pitiful mew.
Rob moved closer, but the crying seemed to move as well, keeping the distance between itself and him, a distance of what seemed like twenty yards or so.
Supporting the light with one hand, he used the other to push low-hanging limbs from his path and to support himself while stepping over fallen trees and branches. The terrain was uneven, and Rob tired quickly.
But the crying continued.
Rob imagined Jimmy wandering through the woods, lost, scared, weeping softly. He knew exactly how he would look too. His hair disheveled and hanging in his eyes, his eyes swollen and red, his chin dimpled. His little hands would be curled into fists and held close to his face.
Tired or not, Rob instinctively picked up speed, hopping a fallen oak and dodging a tangle of wild raspberry. His breathing had deepened and increased in rate, and now his lungs burned as they sucked in air. His legs were beginning to ache too. He was running at probably half his full speed, and still the crying kept pace and distance.
Deeper and deeper into the domain of the wild the weeping led him, farther from the cabin and the town of Darlington. Rob thought about this but didn't care. If the crying led him to Jimmy, it would all be worth it. He could find his way out afterward. Juli said there was only one way out, but she also said she knew the way. So when he found Jimmy and had his son safe in his arms again, he'd find the cabin, and Juli could lead them back to town where he would get help.
Juli's other words came back to him too.
"You're not ready yet. Fear rules in your heart."
He was afraid, sure, but who wouldn't be? The dogs could be hiding around any corner, behind any tree, any shrub. Waiting to pounce and tear at his flesh. And what if it was a trap? He held the light tighter. So what if it was? He had his light, and he'd find a way to get Jimmy out.
Occasionally Rob had to stop and rest his hands on his knees, his lungs drawing in huge breaths. His heart was thumping like a kettledrum, and sweat had nearly soaked his shirt front and back. When he stopped like this to re
st, he would listen and find the crying, always ahead.
This time was no different. Jimmy was still a good twenty yards ahead. Rob wondered if the poor boy was so frightened that the sound of Rob's footfalls on the leaves scared him enough to run. Who knows what he had experienced or had been exposed to in the past three months? It was probably enough to make even a grown man cringe and run.
Rob straightened and listened for the crying. It had continued moving forward, but its progress had slowed. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Jimmy. It's Daddy, buddy. It's Daddy. Don't go any farther."
Still no answer came, and still the weeping moved forward.
Rob looked around, making sure no dogs followed or crouched nearby, and set off again. He took about ten large steps before he stopped. He didn't hear the crying anymore, but what he did hear was the distant gurgle of water. The river they had passed on the way to Darlington. Maybe Jimmy was heading for the river, thinking that was the safest place and the most likely for someone to spot him.
Following the sound of the water as if it were a flute and he a rat, Rob traipsed through the woods, stopping occasionally to call for Jimmy and listen for any response. But none came. The only sound was the steady, comfortable rhythm of flowing water.
Finally, he came upon the river, a wide expanse of slowmoving water. Boulders broke the surface like warts, and a small island sat in the middle of the river, a few loblolly pines clinging to the rocks. Standing on the bank, Rob looked up and down the stretch of water. The ground was eroded into a steep embankment maybe ten feet high. Fallen trees lined the water's edge, piled up in some places like broken bones.
"Jimmy," he called, raising his voice above the burble of water. But again, no response came.
Downriver, maybe a hundred yards or so, Rob noticed the edge of a building jutting from the forest's edge. It looked large, like an old warehouse. He stepped back into the woods and picked his way toward the structure.
Sure enough, there sat an abandoned building, probably a shipping warehouse at one time. Rust stains streaked the exterior, and just about every other window was busted. Shards of glass littered the ground around the base. Weeds had taken over what once was the yard, and the building's facade was partially overrun by Virginia creeper and kudzu. Three pairs of double doors, each with a large window-or broken window-sat at equal intervals along one side of the building.
One was half open.
The chain that at one time bound the two doors together swayed slowly from one handle. Someone had just opened the door.
Jimmy. It had to be. He was heading for the building for shelter and protection. Maybe that was where he'd been hiding to avoid the darklings and dogs.
Rob's throat constricted, and tears pressed on the back of his eyes.
He approached the door and opened it a little more. Sticking his head in the cavernous warehouse, he listened. At first there was nothing; then he heard it, the sound of footsteps, a quick, light cadence, like that of a child running. Jimmy running.
He stepped inside, leaving the door open. The interior was dark but not totally; enough light filtered in through the windows to give the place the appearance of dusk. Rob thought about turning on the floodlight in his hand but didn't. He wanted to conserve the battery in case he really needed it. He thought of what Asher had said-"It's a trap"but didn't care. Jimmy was in here, and he was going to get his boy out.
The warehouse was empty save for a few stacks of old skids and piles of scrap lumber. Oddly, there was no glass on the floor, indicating all the windows had been broken from the inside out.
He could still hear the movement of water outside, but it was muted, distant. He listened again for the footsteps and found them to his right. At the end of the yawning room, a pair of doors with crash bars led to another part of the building. Rob went that way.
At the doors he paused and listened, but he heard nothing. Pushing one open, he called in a soft voice, "Jimmy? You there, buddy?"
But, as usual, no answer came.
Behind the doors were a small room and, on the other side of the room, a staircase that led down. There were no windows in the room, and only a little light made it in through the open door. Rob's palms began to sweat, and his lungs felt like they were filled with sand. If he let the door close, he'd be consumed by darkness.
Then he heard it again, the crying, Jimmy's crying, coming from down the stairs. How far down, he couldn't tell. The sound echoed up the concrete stairwell and bounced around in the room. That settled it for him; fear or no fear, nyctophobia or not, he was going down those steps.
Flipping the floodlight on and letting the door shut behind him, Rob approached the top of the stairwell. He drew in a deep breath of the dry air and blew it out. The light shook in his hands. He aimed it down the stairs and found nothing more than a flight of concrete steps ending on a concrete floor.
"Jimmy? It's me, son. Daddy. Come into the light."
The question entered Rob's mind-of course it did: Why would Jimmy descend into the bowels of this warehouse, into utter darkness? But if this was where he'd found safety, if this was where he'd found asylum from whoever had taken him, wouldn't he feel comfortable here? He might have even spent a good portion of the last three months hiding out here.
And of course Rob thought of the darklings and their love of the darkness. But why would Jimmy be here if the darklings hung out in this basement? He must have felt safe here or he would never have come ... and led Rob here.
Again, Asher's words whispered in his head...
"It's a trap."
No. It wasn't. Jimmy had led him here. It was time to rescue his son and take him home. Time to get back to living again.
Summoning what little courage he had, Rob swallowed hard, wiped each palm on his pants, and descended the stairs. The light cut a path through the darkness like a surgeon's scalpel. At the bottom of the stairs, Rob swung the light back and forth and found another empty room about the size of a basketball court. To his left the room took a turn and wound back around and under the staircase. The light could not reach that area from where he stood.
Rob tried to move, but his feet refused to cooperate. He hated the fact that everywhere but where the light fell was total darkness. He kept expecting something wild and ferocious to explode from the gloom and tear into him. Maybe a darkling, maybe a wild dog, maybe something much worse. Maybe Jimmy.
Stop that! He scolded himself for allowing his imagination to toy with him.
From around the corner, under the staircase, Rob heard the crying.
Jimmy was there, hiding in the darkness.
"Jimmy." Rob pointed the light at the darkened area and forced his feet to move. When he was almost there, about to round the corner, he heard a shuffle of running feet to his right. He swung the light around and caught a glimpse of a small form dash behind a leaning piece of plywood.
Rob's blood turned cold. He'd seen that form before, sinuous, naked. A darkling. Panic clutched at his throat. Before he could pivot back around and toward where he'd heard Jimmy, something hit him from behind and clung to his back. He lifted the light and shoved it hard over his right shoulder. It connected with something and produced a sickening wet thud. A yelp, then his back was free.
Rob spun in a circle, found the staircase, and jumped up three steps at once. Hands found his pants leg and held on. He kept moving up the stairs, dragging the darkling along. At the top, Rob twisted at the waist and drilled the thing with the light. It released its hold and screeched like a bird of prey.
Rob lunged for the door, yanked it open, and jumped through, falling to his knees. The light clanged to the floor. Again, he was hit from behind, fell, and rolled to his back. Two darklings stood half concealed in the doorway; another was crouched, hiding its face but ready to spring. In one fluid motion, Rob reached to his right, found a two-by-four on one of those stacks of old lumber, and swung just as the darkling sprang. The board connected with the little devil's head, and Rob heard t
he crunch of bone.
Not waiting to see how the others would respond to his show of aggression, Rob rolled to his knees, grabbed the light, and whipped it around. The darklings ducked behind the door and screamed angrily. Doing the only thing that came to him, Rob ran for the double doors that led to the outside world and the light of day. His footsteps sounded like gunshots in the empty warehouse.
He hit the crash bar running and tumbled outside, rolling once in the dirt and coming to his feet again.
He thought about heading for the river, jumping in, and letting the easy current take him out of these cursed woods, but then he thought of Juli and Asher... and Jimmy. He still believed Jimmy was alive and in these woods. What just happened here had nothing to do with his son.
"It's a trap."
Instead, he ran for the woods and didn't stop until he was a safe distance from the warehouse. There, Rob found a fallen oak and sat. He let the light drop to the leafy ground and ran both hands through his hair. He had no idea what was going on here, but two things he did know. One, as crazy and unbelievable as it was, the darklings were real-and vicious. And two, Jimmy was still out there. He was convinced of it. How those two went together, if they went together, he had no idea, but he had to find his son. He had to.
He had to.
He realized then that he was lost; he hadn't a clue where he was or in what direction he should walk to get back to the cabin.
His watch said it was five forty. Rob remembered that while he was following the sound of Jimmy's cry, the sun, what little he could see of it through the thick canopy of leaves overhead, was over his right shoulder, behind him. Now, with the sun lower in the sky and harder to locate, he would walk with it at his left shoulder and in front of him.
As he walked, the light in the woods grew dimmer, and the sun all but disappeared. Six o'clock came and went; seven o'clock... seven-thirty... eight o'clock was approaching when he heard the first of the screams far off in the distance. The darklings were emerging from their lair, the warehouse.
Darlington Woods Page 12
