Don't Move

by James S. Murray

  The guy was a hothead, and no doubt he would try something before they made it out of here.

  Rizzo stopped and turned. “How far was it from here, Richard?”

  “A few minutes. Look to your left for an old shack. It’s just after that.”

  “You’ll need to show me.”

  “’Course I will.”

  Just because he wasn’t like them didn’t make him a monster. Yes, he lived in a different world. That was all. And because of that, a lot more was riding on him getting back to the bus. They didn’t need to know that, though. At this point, staying alive was a big enough motivation for everyone.

  Well, maybe not everyone.

  Vargas peered back through the forest. Ryan and Emma followed roughly thirty yards behind. Holding hands. Both keeping their focus on him without being too blatantly obvious.

  Neither he nor Ryan deserved Emma. She was too good, too pure, had too much potential for either of them. Vargas had done the honorable thing and left her when he realized that. Ryan wouldn’t. And for that reason alone, he deserved a good ass-kicking. That would come soon enough, but not today, and likely not from Vargas. He quickly looked beyond the couple to avoid attracting even more unwanted attention.

  At the back of the group, Connor continued to be a nuisance, ignoring his grandparents’ admonishments to stay close. Vargas wondered whether the little boy was like chum in the water, drawing the predator in their direction.

  A few paces behind Vargas, Megan followed, expressionless. He slowed his stride, letting her catch up. The sadness he saw in her touched something deep inside, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  No big deal, though. If something came in his direction, having someone by his side gave him a fifty-fifty chance of avoiding the first attack. She appeared alert and would know what to do. It would give him a head start.

  The group trudged silently toward their first destination. Vargas’s boots sank into the damp ground with every step. Once again they followed the stream, right through the marshy part of the forest. Last night’s sprint back to the campsite had wiped him out, and he was still feeling it. But adrenaline had gotten him through, as it would if the thing came again.

  As they drew closer to the spot in the forest where DeLuca disappeared, butterflies invaded Vargas’s stomach. He swallowed hard, told himself to keep his head. Now wasn’t the time to flake. His prize at the end of this trip was still in reach.

  “Are we close to where it happened?” Megan asked.

  “I don’t know what happened, but yeah, we’re close.”

  “You know the biggest problem?” she said.

  “Yeah, DeLuca’s missing and everyone thinks I did it.”

  “Okay, besides that.” She smiled. “Let’s say what you’re saying is real. Both the deer and our tour guide got pulled up into the trees. You’re focused on what did it.”

  “No shit,” Vargas replied.

  “The real question is, where did it take them? Because there’s nothing in these trees, Ricky.”

  They both looked upward. A gentle breeze swayed the treetops, and beams of sunlight blazed through the canopy, making dappled patterns on the forest floor. The pristine woodland seemed to have entirely forgotten any terrifying doings from last night.

  Vargas had not thought of that question. She was right, though. The deer was gone. DeLuca’s body was gone.

  Where did they go?

  He quickened his stride to join Rizzo at the front of the group. As he did, he stared up at the canopy. Everything seemed almost boringly normal, as if nothing had happened here.

  Rizzo looked to his left. “Is that the shack?”

  “Yep.” Vargas pointed to a small clearing several yards ahead. “It’s just over there. Follow me.”

  He stepped tentatively toward the point where DeLuca had vanished, half expecting to hear that infernal hissing at any moment.

  The trees were dense here. He remembered searching desperately around them for the vanished guide. Then he had tossed his jacket on the ground. After his panicked dash to the camp, with his mind racing, he had forgotten to explain about the leather being covered in blood—and that he had left it behind in the woods.

  Vargas held his arm out to stop Rizzo. “Something I forgot to mention—”

  “It’s there!” Rizzo exclaimed.

  The pastor hurried forward a few paces, crouched, and lifted the sat phone from the leaf litter. It still appeared in one piece, albeit with a cracked screen and dark-red specks on one side. At least, this confirmed part of Vargas’s story—though only the irrelevant part.

  Emma, Ryan, Megan, and Vargas caught up with Pastor Rizzo as he held the phone aloft. Ryan’s face told Vargas that the discovery was simply a confirmation of his suspicions.

  To hell with him. With all of them. I know what I saw. And what I didn’t see.

  Rizzo gave Vargas a grim nod. “Okay, so Richard’s story seems based in truth.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ryan interjected. “All it tells us is that he probably mugged the guy and left him bleeding behind a log somewhere.”

  Vargas bit his lip as the realization came upon him. Now that the group had found the sat phone, it was only a matter of time before the cops got involved. And since he was the last person to see the tour guide alive . . .

  God damn it.

  He needed to lose these suckers fast. He had done his duty as a human being getting them here. If it looked suspicious, too bad. He would be long gone by tonight.

  “Your logic doesn’t track, Ryan,” Megan said. The group turned toward her, surprised at the interjection. “If Ricky is guilty of something, why would he lead us back here to find the evidence?”

  Ryan mumbled to himself and turned away.

  Vargas’s resentment softened at this unexpected defense.

  “Okay, but there’s still no sign of DeLuca or any kind of struggle,” Ryan finally said, eyeing Vargas. “So where the hell did he go, Ricky?”

  “Ryan, please,” Rizzo said. “Let’s keep our cool and just call for help.”

  The pastor pressed a few buttons on the sat phone, and it chirped to life. White LED light radiated from the screen as he thumbed a button on the side.

  “Thank God,” Emma whispered.

  Megan was watching Rizzo’s every move. During the short time that Vargas had known her, he had determined that she was the analytical type. Always observing, rarely wasting her words. The type of woman who usually gave guys like him a wide berth.

  The breeze picked up through the trees, shaking branches.

  Vargas tensed for a moment. No hissing. He needed to get out of this damn forest, pronto.

  “It was channel seven for the Forest Service, I believe,” Rizzo said, toggling through the numbers. He raised the device and pressed the side button, activating the walkie-talkie feature. “Come in, Forest Service. This is Pastor Dwayne Rizzo. Do you hear me?”

  The radio let out a ping, followed by a static squelch.

  “Hello, Forest Service, this is Pastor Dwayne Rizzo from New York. Is anyone there?”

  The group waited.

  “This is the Monongahela Forest Service, hearing you loud and clear. Forest Ranger Steve Wright speaking.”

  “Thank you, Steve! Um, yes, so I’m Pastor Dwayne Rizzo from Our Lady of Saints in New York City. Eight of us from our church camped out in Davies Canyon last night. But our guide, Paul DeLuca, has gone missing, so we’re calling you for help.”

  “Is the rest of your group okay, Pastor?”

  “Yes, we’re all fine and have plenty of water and supplies.”

  Rizzo looked confidently around the group, stern faced—a man finally back in charge, with everything under control.

  “Good. Are you still in Davies Canyon?”

  “No, we’re in the forest
about halfway between the canyon and the entrance road where our bus is parked. We’re following the river back toward the bus. I think we know our way to the road.

  “Okay, I know the area you’re in.”

  “Our main concern is for our friend Paul.”

  “Yes, I understand. Can you describe him, please?”

  “Uh, yes. Early fifties, about six feet tall. He’s wearing a red T-shirt. From the Bronx. Works at Walmart. Um, what else can I . . .”

  “Okay, got it. That’ll do for now, Pastor. We’ll dispatch a chopper to sweep the area and send a vehicle to the road to meet your bus. In the meantime, stay in touch and update us when you reach your bus or find Paul.”

  “That’s great. I can’t thank you enough.” Rizzo lowered the radio, smiling. “Those guys deserve a medal.”

  A moment later, the look of relief vanished from his face as he looked beyond the group.

  Something had spooked the pastor.

  Vargas couldn’t detect any signs of movement—only deserted forest and the path they had cut through the undergrowth.

  “Uh,” the pastor stammered. “Where’s Jim, Maryann, and Connor?”

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  Maryann stood on the trail, waiting for Jim to catch Connor. The top of her grandson’s head flashed through the undergrowth from tree to tree. Her husband, red-faced and puffing, chased after the giggling boy. He was no longer built for hide-and-seek.

  “I told you we shouldn’t have come on the trip!” Maryann yelled.

  Jim shot her an irritated glance. “My knee is fine.”

  “It’s not your knee I’m worried about. You’re too old to go running around in the woods. We’ve already fallen behind.”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll wait for us. Besides, let him have some fun. He barely got a day camping.” He reached to grab the youngster, who sprinted another few feet away. “Darn it, little man, get back here.”

  Jim gave chase again, breaking into a jog but quickly slowing to an ungainly power walk.

  We can’t fool around for much longer, Maryann thought. I’m not risking getting lost in the forest the same way as DeLuca.

  Maryann was convinced their guide had simply lost his way in the dark last night. It was the only logical explanation in her mind, despite Vargas’s bizarre story. Ricky probably didn’t want to admit that the two men had royally screwed up and gotten separated while hiking. He was just covering for his own ego.

  DeLuca will be waiting by the bus, tail between his legs. I’d bet on it.

  Ending their trip early didn’t bother Maryann. She had things to do at home, like organizing a charity garage sale, and she was already missing her two dogs. Also, this trip wasn’t good for Jim’s health, never mind his assurances that he was “fit as a fifty-year-old.”

  But what bothered her most in this moment was the growing gap between her little family unit and the rest of the group. Any more of Connor’s antics would put them too far behind, maybe even get them lost, unless someone decided to wait for them.

  “Connor!” she shouted. “Get back here right now!”

  “Listen to Nana,” Jim added in his serious voice. “This isn’t funny.”

  Connor slowly made his way back toward the trail of disturbed ferns, head bowed.

  Finally.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. He was a little terror, but his unbound spirit was infectious. Maryann loved the time with their grandson—even when he acted like an uncontrollable little shit.

  Jim followed, limping a bit. He winced every few steps, visibly trying to cover his discomfort. “Okay, we’re back on track. Follow me. I’ll lead the way!” he grunted as he walked past her.

  That was her husband to a T: always putting others first, no matter what. She could tell he was hurting, but hiding it for the family’s benefit. He followed broken fern fronds down a gentle hill. Connor next, then Maryann. She stayed close behind her grandson, ready to grab his little backpack if he strayed again.

  A gust of wind whipped through the forest, jostling the sunlit gaps in the canopy. On the ground to her left, something glinted in the sun.

  Maryann stopped and crouched, her knees cracking.

  Reaching down, she picked up what looked like a gold wedding ring.

  She wiped off the dirt and looked at the inner surface.

  JSM 1976.

  How unlucky.

  Guaranteed this guy slept on the couch for a few nights when his wife found out he lost his wedding ring in the woods.

  She looked up toward Jim and Connor, roughly thirty yards ahead.

  A distant hiss rose above the breeze.

  Quiet at first, so she had mistaken it for the sound of rustling leaves.

  It quickly grew louder, to the point it could no longer be ignored.

  Maryann opened her mouth to call out to her husband . . .

  Connor heard a weird gargle from behind him, like someone clearing their throat.

  Nana playing games.

  He spun in her direction, grinning.

  The forest was deserted. Not a single person in sight.

  Hide-and-seek!

  “I’ll find you, Nana!” he called out. “No counting to ten.”

  Connor raced away from the trail, darting from tree to tree. Above him, the canopy thrashed in the wind, creating a weird hissing noise in the forest. It all added to the excitement now that she was joining in the fun.

  He peered around a trunk, back toward the trail.

  Grandpa had stopped too. He gave Connor a concerned look, then yelled, “Maryann? Where the hell have you gone?”

  Connor knew it was all an act. Like the serious expressions his grandparents wore when they would scold him but not really mean it. He ducked back behind a tree, out of sight, and looked around for a new hiding place.

  He waited, catching his breath, anticipating that Grandpa’s hand would reach around the tree at any moment to grab him. Or Nana jumping out of the undergrowth and wrapping him in her arms.

  Nobody came.

  “Maryann, you’re the one saying we have to get moving!” Grandpa bellowed. “Now, quit messing ar—”

  A strained grunt followed his unfinished sentence.

  Connor let out a loud laugh. This was great!

  He craned his neck around the tree trunk.

  But Grandpa was missing from the trail.

  He’s coming after me too!

  Overhead, the treetops started thrashing. Connor stared upward, half convinced that his grandparents were doing this to scare him out of his hiding place.

  Something wet pattered on the ground beside him.

  Red and sticky. It spattered over a fern and dripped onto the ground.

  Connor frowned. This didn’t feel like a game anymore.

  “Nana! Grandpa!” he cried. “You’re scaring me. I don’t wanna play anymore.”

  There was no response.

  With a rising sense of panic, he looked around him in every direction. Nobody peeping from behind a tree or crouching in the undergrowth.

  The overhead thrashing became more violent. The loud hissing built until it made his head hurt. Something was very wrong.

  He began to sob, planted his quivering hands over his ears, and screamed as loud as he could. The sound reverberated through the forest.

  Suddenly, two sharp points pierced both sides of his head and yanked him violently upward into the treetops. Everything went past him in a green blur until his body steadied, suspended high in the air, legs dangling.

  The last thing he saw was the limp, bloodied torso of his grandpa, wedged unnaturally between two thick branches in the tree.

  Then the world went black.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  Ryan stood glued to the spot, heart racing. Everyone
else had also frozen at the sound of a child’s distant scream. Then it stopped abruptly, and there was only the muted roar of the river and the tranquil sounds of the morning forest.

  “What was that?” Pastor Rizzo muttered.

  Ryan looked at the faces around him and saw the same mix of fear and confusion.

  They still don’t get it.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Ryan said, taking command. He stooped and picked up a sturdy stick from the undergrowth. Heavy and damp in his hand. Good enough to inflict a damaging blow. “Sounds like Connor found Paul DeLuca.”

  Emma took a tentative step toward him. “Are you sure? He sounded frightened to death.”

  “Wouldn’t you be if you stumbled onto the battered body of your tour guide?” Ryan replied, darting Ricky a menacing look. “The kid is no doubt scarred for life.”

  “Everyone, remain calm,” Rizzo pleaded. “Help is on the way.”

  “Fuck that.”

  Ryan heaved off his pack, then pointed directly at Vargas. “Don’t let this prick out of your sight.”

  With that, he turned and jogged back in the direction they had come. Ryan knew that if he had stayed with the group, they’d still be debating their next move until the rangers showed up. He wanted to search right now and then lead the authorities to the evidence that would send Vargas to a well-earned stretch in prison. He wasn’t getting away with anything again on Ryan’s watch.

  Rapid footsteps followed him through the increasingly warm forest. He glanced over his shoulder. Emma was only a few yards behind, likely shadowing him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

  This isn’t stupid, though. Finding out the truth never is.

  Ryan carefully watched the ground as he advanced, powering up the gentle hill, weaving between trees, jumping from rock to rock. He swept through the ferns. Determination built inside him as he closed in on the site where he had last seen the old couple and their grandson.

  After a few minutes, he was sucking air. He had to move fast: first, to bring assurance to the family; and second, to get back to the group before Vargas realized the game was up and attacked again.