The Demon Stone

by Christopher Datta

  Liz shook it off. More out of habit than will, she took Beth by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Come on, Beth. You need to get warm and dry. Come on.”

  Beth nodded, looking beyond despair and almost insensible.

  Liz got her changed and into a sleeping bag. Everything was damp now but she thought the bag would more or less keep her warm. In no time at all she fell asleep, and Liz left to build a fire.

  All the wood was wet, and the kindling would not ignite. She remembered that Kevin had used an axe to hack dry chips from a log and awkwardly tried it, cutting a finger when the blade skidded across the slick wood. She sucked the blood off her hand and looked at it. Her delicate, thin fingers were bruised and dirty, unused to this kind of abuse.

  After several more minutes of effort, she had enough dry chips to light and soon had a hot fire. Sitting on a stone near the blaze, Hampton sat next to her, putting his head on her lap. It was dark once more and those strange rainbows of light again pulsed rhythmically across the small patch of clear sky directly above her.

  Liz stared into the flames, absently scratching the dog’s head. It felt as though her fever had left her, or nearly so.

  What could she do? She knew nothing about the woods but she knew Beth was almost certainly right about not being lost. It was impossible that she had returned to the same place every time and nowhere else. Her rational mind strained for an explanation even as it pushed her to accept the irrational conclusion that they were trapped by a force beyond her understanding.

  Well, she thought, they had tried to leave by water. That left land. If she could walk to the portage they’d last crossed, she could find the old logging road and follow it out for help.

  She recoiled from the thought of going by herself through the woods, and it occurred to her that she could let Beth go, instead. Beth knew more about the forest than she did, but there was also the bear that was still out there waiting in the dark. What would happen to Beth if she met up with it?

  She watched the swaying shadows cast by the light of the campfire. The night moved all around her, active and menacing. She could not walk through that, not by herself. She was not made for it in normal circumstances, let alone with a demon on the loose.

  There, she thought, I’ve said it. A demon. I don’t believe in them but that’s what I fear. Walking with the demon. She nearly laughed. I’m afraid of demons in the dark, like a kid who won’t get up at night because she’s scared she’ll be grabbed and eaten by the monster under the bed.

  Hampton sat up, alert. The hair on his back went up and he growled, a low harsh rumble, as threatening as a switchblade.

  A rush of anger swept through her, although she didn’t know, and could not identify, what she was angry at. It was, simply, a rising tide of unfocused frustration and impatience.

  She snatched up a gray stone from the ground and stood. “Go away!” she shouted. She hurled the rock blindly into the trees. Hampton barked and snarled next to her. He sprang forward but Liz called him back. Reluctantly, glancing back over his shoulder into the trees, he slunk back to her.

  Her fever surged with a vengeance, and Liz staggered, gripping her head with both hands. It felt as though she’d been struck in the forehead with a stone.

  A deep guttural sound, stringy and base, seemingly vibrated from the trees in front of her, but Liz could not tell if it was really coming for the trees or existed only in her aching head. It was an insect clicking that came faster and faster until it formed a growl, yet also almost a laugh. Hampton snarled, a sound very nearly the same in depth and timbre.

  Something seemed to touch Liz. It was not physical, yet felt like it was. It was both hot and cold and it crept through her like a hand slowly passing across her face and then down her body. She cringed back, feeling violated. It seemed to linger, repulsively, like a wet tongue sliding across her fever-burning skin, tasting her, testing the meat on the bone as a cook probes a roast and samples the juice before setting it out on the table.

  Then it and the sound were gone. An irrational and chilling thought came to her that she was not quite ready. It was going to let her simmer awhile longer.

  She sank back down on the rock next to the fire. The ancients, she thought, had used fire to ward off dangerous beasts. The yellow light from this blaze seemed weak to her, barely holding back the night at all, a thin web of sanctuary easily swept aside.

  “Liz,” called Beth from the tent. Her voice sounded hollow. “What did you yell at?”

  “It’s gone,” said Liz. “Stay warm. Get some sleep if you can. I’ll keep watch.” She looked up at the sky. It was still brilliant with the pulsing colors of the auroras, yellow, green, red and a dark blue. But in the center she saw a ribbon of blackness where no stars shone at all. It looked more like a tear across the sky than an opening through the light.

  She clutched Hampton closer, burying her face against the warm damp fur on his neck.

  Chapter 4

  Kevin was conscious but he looked at Liz with glassy eyes.

  “I should go,” said Beth. “Dad needs you here. I don’t know what to do if he gets worse.”

  “There’s nothing anyone can do for him here if he gets worse,” Liz answered, stuffing food and clothes into a pack. “You can take care of him just as well as I.”

  “Where you going?” slurred Kevin, trying to sit up.

  Liz gently pressed her hand against his chest to keep him down. The tent was crowded with the three of them and Hampton, and, thought Liz, it stank. She would never understand why Kevin thought camping was good for the soul.

  “Try to stay still,” she said. “I don’t want you moving around.”

  Kevin grimaced. “Head hurts,” he said.

  “I believe it, sweetie,” said Liz. “You’ve got a severe concussion or a broken vein. It’s best to keep still and rest. I need to go for help.”

  “I can go,” he said, growing agitated.

  “Don’t be a dope,” said Beth.

  “I’m all right.”

  “No,” said Liz, “you’re not all right. You wouldn’t get a hundred yards and you’re too heavy for us to carry back.”

  “Nothing wrong with me,” growled Kevin. He sounded like his tongue was too big for his mouth. He swatted away their hands. “Eyes a little blurry’s all,” he slurred. “Gotta move.”

  Liz drew up next to him on her knees and held his shoulders. “Kevin, listen to me. There’s bleeding inside your head. That’s why you can’t focus your eyes. It’s putting pressure on the brain and you’re disoriented. You know it’s true. If it bleeds more you could die. You’ve got to keep still.”

  He looked at her, frowning. She was not sure he understood.

  “Crazy,” he said. “I’m fine. Le’me the hell up.” He pushed at her.

  She resisted the urge to shake him. That would probably kill him. “You’re not fine,” she insisted.

  “Bitch! You’re damn ball-buster,” he slurred. “Always were. S’why I left you, damn slut. Fucken you’s like fucken dead woman. Bitch.” He struggled against her. Despite his condition, he was still stronger than her and Liz had trouble holding him until Beth joined in. Behind her, Hampton barked.

  God, thought Liz, it would be so easy to kill the son of a bitch. A good punch in the face would probably do it.

  “What’s the matter with him?” said Beth. “I’ve never heard him talk like this.”

  “God damn, leggo!” he shouted.

  With an effort Liz shook off her own fury. “Get on him and pin his arms,” she said. “He’ll kill himself if he keeps this up.”

  Together they were able to pin him. He glared and then winced, groaning. “Head hurts,” he mumbled.

  “What’s the matter with him?” repeated Beth.

  “Pressure on the brain,” said Liz, “can cause a personality change. It comes and goes until the pressure’s relieved. It’s like people under anesthesia for surgery. Sometimes they start to come out of it and they’ll swear
like sailors or say things they’d never even let themselves think normally. The regular blocks are down and they say the first thing that springs into their minds.”

  “Fuck you,” spat Kevin. He surged up, lifting them both off the ground. He grinned, triumphant, then vomited and passed out.

  “Oh God,” whispered Beth, “is he dead?”

  Liz pressed her fingers into his neck and felt a pulse. “No, the pulse is strong. But if he keeps this up, he will be.”

  “You can’t go,” said Beth. “I can’t manage him alone. Not when he’s like this.”

  “Neither could I,” said Liz. “But without help I doubt he’s going to make it. One of us has got to get help.”

  “Let me try,” said Beth.

  Liz shook her head. “You went last time.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Liz, you hate the woods. You’ll be lost in five minutes.”

  Liz sighed. “Sweetie, I don’t know what’s going on but I do know you tried to leave and couldn’t. Now I’ve got to try. To tell the truth, I think the same thing’s going to happen. But if it happens to you…” Liz trailed off.

  “What?” said Beth, frowning. “You think I came back on purpose?” Her face flushed.

  “No, no,” said Liz. “But I’ve got to try and see for myself.” She shrugged. “I’ve got to know that what’s happening is real.”

  “You don’t trust me. You’re no different from Dad.” Beth eyed her with resentment.

  Liz frowned. “You’re right. I’m not different from him. He’s made mistakes but he’s not a bad man, Beth. We both trust you but you’ve got to understand that I need to do this, not because of you but because of me.”

  “No, you’re wrong. You’re wrong. I do understand. I understand totally.” Beth fixed her with a look of pure spite.

  The anger and heat heaved up in Liz. She was heartily sick of this adolescent game of “give me what I want or you are unfair.” What she needed was a good smack to knock some common sense into her. “How can I make it more clear?” she said. “Stop thinking the world revolves around you. Not everything we do is a damn plot to obstruct you.”

  Beth lunged at her, grabbing her hair tightly with one hand and yanking. Liz gouged back at her face, and they collapsed on the ground, rolling out of the tent in a thrashing tangle.

  A half scream, half howl, froze them both. Hampton circled, crouching, then shrieked again like no dog Liz had ever heard. Now that they’d stopped fighting he sat, lifted up his head, and wailed as though his heart would break.

  Liz looked into Beth’s bleeding and terrified face. Hampton’s howl echoed across the lake and the desolation in his cry replaced her rage.

  “I’m frightened,” whispered Beth, her eyes wide. “What are we doing?”

  She touched Liz’s face and drew her finger back, staring at it. The tip was red and wet. “You’re bleeding,” she said.

  “You, too,” said Liz, looking at a nasty scratch gouged across Beth’s cheek.

  Hampton thrust his head between them. He whined softly until Beth rubbed her face against his neck. “What are we going to do?” she said.

  Liz stood, brushing damp brown pine needles from her clothes. Her fever was raging again. “One of us has got to try to go,” she said.

  “Please let me do it,” said Beth. “I’ll go crazy if I have to just sit here. I can’t deal with Dad like this.”

  Liz nodded. It was true that she’d be lost within minutes. Beth, she knew, had the better chance of finding her way out. And this spiking fever was reason enough for her to stay put for the time being. “Take Hampton. If you wind up back here then it’s my turn to try.”

  Chapter 5

  Beth had been gone for an hour. The fog still hung damp and heavy over the ground, and it was quiet except for the irregular splash of water dripping from the trees into the lake. Already Liz missed Hampton.

  She heard Kevin stir in the tent. God, she thought, it would be better if he’d just stay unconscious. She didn’t know what she’d do if he came at her again.

  She approached the tent and looked in. Kevin half sat, his right hand pressed against his forehead and his eyes closed. His ashen skin glistened with perspiration.

  “How you feeling?” she said.

  He opened his eyes and squinted at her, his mouth twisted into a grimace of pain. “That you?” he said. “Can’t see well.”

  He seemed calm enough, and she slid into the tent next to him. “It’s me,” she said. “Your vision’s blurry?”

  He started to nod but finished by wincing in pain. “Hurts, too.”

  “It would be best not to move,” she said. “Just lie back.” He did, and she rolled up two shirts for a pillow and gently positioned them under his head.

  “Where’s Beth?” he said.

  “She’s trying to hike to the road at the portage to go for help.”

  He opened his eyes. “Alone?”

  “Someone had to stay with you. Besides, she’s got Hampton.”

  “Not safe,” he said, his eyes closing again.

  Liz paused a moment, listening to the sudden unnatural stillness. Even she had spent enough time in the woods now to know that she ought to be hearing a breeze, a bird or something. Instead, there was only the soft and unnaturally muffled drip of falling water. “No,” she finally said, “I suppose it’s not.”

  Kevin put his hand to his forehead. “Feel bad, Liz. Nauseated. Head feels like a balloon.”

  “You’ll be okay, sweetie. We just need to get you out of here.”

  He opened his eyes and tried to look at her, licking his lips. “Liz, I’m scared.”

  She took his left hand in both of hers. It was cold and clammy. “Just rest,” she said.

  “Bill wasn’t afraid. At least, dying wasn’t his big fear. I’d do anything to live. Not Bill. He knew. Things you can do, so poisonous, you die inside. It kills you.”

  “What happened in Africa wasn’t your fault,” said Liz.

  “Fault doesn’t matter.”

  “What are you talking about, Kevin?”

  “That’s me, that’s Morgan. Dead inside.”

  “You didn’t die inside,” said Liz. “And you’re not going to.”

  Kevin opened his eyes and stared at her a moment. “He screwed her,” he suddenly said.

  “What?” She was startled.

  “Father. Morgan’s father. Just a kid, Morgan, not her fault. Not her fault.” His eyes were unnaturally bright. “Bastard. Fucked his own kid. Sick bastard. Did it all the time.”

  Liz sighed. “I know, Kevin, you told us. Now don’t talk. Just try to sleep if you can.”

  He shook his head. “Got to see,” he said, “that it poisoned her. All that poison. Because he fucked her. Bastard.”

  “Shh,” said Liz.

  He touched his face and looked as though he was surprised he still had one. Then his grip on her hand relaxed a bit. She thought he might be about to sleep again, but he said, quietly, “Thought it was her fault. Kids, they do that. Blame themselves. Poisoned her, like Africa. Like it poisoned me. Except that was my fault. I did it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Liz said again.

  “Choice,” he said. “Choice,” he repeated, seeming to taste the word. “Bill chose.” He nodded, licking his lips. Again, he lay silent a moment.

  His eyes bolted back to hers, suddenly frantic. “She’s using it,” he said. His grip tightened on her hand.

  “Morgan?” said Liz.

  “The demon. The poison eating her up,” he gasped. “So much sadness.”

  “Don’t think about it,” pleaded Liz. “Just rest.”

  He sat up and fumbled inside his sleeping bag. His hand emerged clutching his hunting knife, the blade dull silver in the gray light. She backed away from him, terrified, her eyes fixed on the knife. She instinctively felt around the tent for something to shield herself. He was going mad again.

  He tossed the knife to her and it fell at her knees. She looked back
at him. His eyes had lost their glazed look and were clear and bright. His mouth trembled.

  “I know what she’s done. I saw the hate eating her. She’s beyond help. I finally saw it and left. Now she hates me for going. For taking Beth. She hates Beth for going. In her bitter mind I took her parents’ side against her.”

  He pushed himself further up with his hands, his face desperate and haunted. “Do you understand?” he said. “You’ve got to find her. She can’t be far. Find her and take it. The stone.”

  He reached toward her, his hand shaking. “Do you see? Do you? If you don’t get it, she’ll kill us.”

  Liz slunk back from him, her knees tucked up against her chest. He was sucking her down into his madness, infecting her with it. “What are you trying to do to me?” she said, her voice strangled. “Why did you bring me into this?”

  Kevin shook his head. “Didn’t know she’d be here. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Save Beth,” he said. “It’s not her fault. Don’t let her die. Save yourself.”

  She shook her head, staring at the knife on the ground before her. “I don’t know how, Kevin.”

  “Find Morgan.”

  She pressed her face against her knees, shaking her head. It was too much. She would give anything, anything at all, to be free of him, of them and of here. She just wanted to be home. She just wanted to be left alone.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “You have to,” she heard him say.

  “No, I don’t have to. Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.”

  Chapter 6

  Liz left the tent. Kevin had finally passed out again. She was glad. She didn’t want to listen to him anymore. She didn’t want to be told to hunt down Morgan.

  She left the knife behind.

  He wants me to find Morgan, she thought, and then what? If Morgan is here and if she has the stone and if there is a demon, what could she do? She, Liz Pemberton, armed with a stupid hunting knife versus Morgan and a demon. It was so absurd she nearly laughed despite the fear and fever that never left her now. Morgan would not surrender the stone. Liz would have to take it from her, probably even have to stab Morgan and maybe even kill her to get it.