In Shadows

by Chandler McGrew

  Suddenly the house shuddered, as though the very boards and beams were being rent asunder. Jake stumbled, catching himself against the door frame until the structure slowly settled again, and the old building seemed to hold its breath.

  He started toward Mandi’s room, but she stuck her head out to tell him that she and Pierce were okay and that she would take care of Barb. Jake raced down the stairs with Cramer right on his heels. Virgil was shining a flashlight around the living room.

  “What the hell was that?” muttered Cramer, as he and Jake followed the sheriff into the kitchen, where a section of ceiling had collapsed onto the counter.

  “Better take a look outside,” said Virgil, hefting his shotgun from its resting place beside the recliner.

  The flood was level with the decking, and the top of the foundation was no longer visible.

  “It felt like a tank hit this place,” said Cramer, as Virgil shone his flashlight around the front yard.

  Jake stepped down into the water, fighting the current to the corner of the house.

  “Here,” he said, waving Virgil and Cramer over.

  “Mother of God,” muttered Virgil as he shone the light along the side of the building.

  A maple tree that must have been standing tall before the house was even built had lost its grip on the forest floor and fallen across the yard. The upper branches had crashed down on the roof over the kitchen, and now that section of the house looked as if it had folded in on itself.

  “Jimmy?” asked Cramer, studying the woods, then glancing pointedly at Jake’s empty hands.

  Jake shook his head, frowning. “Jimmy didn’t knock that thing down. Not without a chain saw. And we’d have heard that.”

  “Whatever. That was close,” said Virgil, shining the light up the wall. “If that tree had hit a few feet north it would have taken out Mandi and Pierce’s bedroom.”

  Jake had been worried about a flash flood or the slopes washing out and carrying a mudslide down into the house. He hadn’t considered a tree simply smashing them flat. And there were plenty more where this one had come from.

  “We can’t stay here now,” said Virgil, shining the light on the knee-deep water encroaching on the house. “If the slopes here are washing out, anything could happen. The old house is the only real high ground left in the valley.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Jake reluctantly admitted, following him back into the house.

  “What caused that?” asked Mandi, leading Pierce and Barbara into the living room.

  Jake told her, watching Barbara blanch. Mandi signed to Pierce. The boy looked shaken, but he just nodded and gritted his teeth.

  From inside the kitchen a nasty creaking sound could be heard over the wind and rain that was now working its way into the house. Jake glanced at Virgil, and Virgil shrugged.

  “Right,” said Jake, turning to Mandi again. “We’re going to have to make our way up to the old house. Get Pierce ready. Cramer, look in the closets. I’m sure Ernie and Pam have a pack or two. We’ll carry all the supplies we can.”

  “Jake,” said Mandi. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yeah,” he said, not wanting to risk the storm again any more than she did. “We really can’t chance staying here any longer.”

  “Okay,” she said weakly.

  She signed to Pierce, and Jake could tell he didn’t like the idea any better than she did. But he was pleased to see that the kid swallowed his fear and went along with Mandi with dry eyes. Whether or not the boy was his son, he was a son to be proud of.

  By the time they had loaded up canned goods, matches, candles, the first-aid kit, and a couple of blankets, Mandi, Pierce, and Barbara were standing beside the door. Virgil wore some of Ernie’s clothes and carried his shotgun under his good arm. Cramer shouldered one of the packs and Jake took the other, his wounded shoulder aching beneath the strap. Mandi had dressed Pierce in what Jake guessed were a pair of Pam’s jeans, which poked out of his rain suit.

  The instant Jake had agreed to evacuate to the old house the jewel had flashed into his mind and he had grabbed it even before strapping on his holster and pistol. As he led them all out onto the porch he could feel the necklace in his pants pocket.

  What power did the gemstone hold? Why was he drawn to it? Why was Pierce drawn to it?

  It’s in your blood. Something about your blood.

  The only thing he knew for certain about the jewel was that he could no more have left it on his bureau upstairs than he could have left Mandi or Pierce.

  “All right,” said Mandi, nodding across the miasma of rain-churned lawn. “Which way?”

  “There’s the old trail to the swimming hole through there,” said Jake, pointing toward the trees on the side of the house.

  Barbara shook her head, staring into the dark brush. “I can’t hike through that.”

  Cramer frowned. “You don’t have any choice unless you want to stay here.”

  “What about Oswald?” argued the old lady. The dog sat on the porch at Cramer’s feet, lolling its tongue and studying the two feet of water in front of it.

  “He’ll probably do better than us,” said Virgil. “But we’ll carry him as far as the trees.”

  “Come on, Barbara,” said Mandi, picking up the little dog and handing him to Cramer. “We can’t stay here. We’ll all help you.”

  Jake climbed down the steps, catching himself on the newel post at the bottom as his feet threatened to slip out from under him. The water was barely above his knees, but the weight of the pack screwed up his balance. The thought of walking two or three miles through the woods carrying that load, and trying to take care of the group at the same time, was daunting, but it had to be done. He reminded himself that Jimmy was probably out there, as well, and he shifted, feeling his pistol scrunched under his arm.

  But if Jimmy leaped out in front of them, would he use it in time? Or would he hesitate, more afraid of himself than of Jimmy? He couldn’t allow himself to do that. He couldn’t allow something to happen to Pierce or Mandi because of fourteen years of self-inflicted fear.

  When Pierce’s foot hit the water he tried to back up, but Mandi shook his hand sternly, and he trudged reluctantly beside her into the flood. Jake could see that between leading Pierce and helping Barb they were going to be hard-pressed to make a few hundred yards an hour, but they couldn’t carry the pair on their backs up and down the slippery slopes.

  “Shine the light over there,” he said, pointing around the corner.

  “Oh, my God,” said Mandi, catching sight of the giant maple crushing down on the house. “It looks even worse out here than it did inside.”

  “We have to cut into the trail through the woods,” said Jake, pointing along the length of the tree’s trunk toward the forest.

  As they trudged toward the trees, the sound of the rain striking the leaves and pine needles reasserted itself, but at least the canopy appeared to offer some shelter. Cramer set Oswald down as they slipped through the brush alongside the fallen tree, and Jake kicked bracken out of their way, muscling through small saplings. When they reached the upturned roots Jake stopped, shining the light around to inspect the crater left by the tree’s demise. The hole was already filling with water.

  Cramer and Barbara eased up beside them.

  “That thing went deep,” said Cramer, his eyes following Jake’s flashlight down into the hole.

  Jake nodded, pointing the light at the base of the tree, then back down into the crater.

  “We can make it around the hole easy enough,” said Mandi, staring deeper into the woods.

  But Jake was still studying the wide taproot that seemed to have snapped in half like a twig.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Cramer.

  “Nothing,” said Jake, working his way around the hole.

  Virgil stopped for a moment, shining his light into the dark forest.

  “Anything?” asked Cramer, looking back over his shoulder.

  Virgil
just shook his head and closed the gap between them.

  HE RAINDROPS SLAPPING PIERCE’S PLASTIC JACKET were only slight distractions from the rest of the night-world bombarding him with new sensations. As he inhaled the rich smell of wet humus, pine sap, and the mixed, acrid odors of damp weeds and bracken, he could feel every twig twisted into the slurry through the rubber soles of his sodden sneakers.

  His mother jerked him along, and he tucked himself in tight behind her to avoid the branches that kept slapping at him. Now and then the old woman bumped into his back or the dog slipped between his legs.

  They finally stopped, and his mother signed to him that Jake had gone on ahead to look for the trail. Pierce nodded.

  When his mother let him go for a moment, he knelt, holding both hands out in front of him, the rain tickling his fingers. After a second he felt the dog’s rough, warm tongue lapping his palm, and he ruffled the fur on the back of its head. Oswald tried to lick that palm, as well, but Pierce caught him by the collar and pulled him close, petting him gently. He settled against Pierce’s calf, and the boy sheltered him from the rain with his body. The rich, earthy odor of wet fur was so thick around him he couldn’t smell anything else. He ran his fingers down the animal’s sides to its belly, and Oswald rolled over on the soggy pine needles to let himself be rubbed, pedaling both rear legs like he was riding a bicycle. Pierce smiled, continuing the massage.

  Suddenly the dog rolled over and away, and Pierce’s mother jerked him back to his feet.

  What’s the matter? he signed.

  Oswald heard something, she signed back.

  She stiffened, and he questioned her with rushing fingers, but she gripped both hands in her own, signaling him to wait. When she did answer her own hands were shaking.

  Barbara ran off after Oswald.

  Into the woods?

  It’ll be all right, his mother signed. Virgil will find her.

  Pierce felt his guts tighten. Virgil went into the woods?

  Yes.

  Suddenly he was certain that neither the old woman nor Virgil was coming back.

  Are you okay? signed his mother.

  We need to find Jake and go.

  We have to wait for Virgil and Barbara.

  There was no sense arguing. Cramer and his mother weren’t going to run away and leave Virgil or the old lady, no matter what he said. But he could feel the presence, beginning to slip around them again like a mist, and he could almost read it, the way he read a bad circuit. It seemed to be trying to tell him something—or maybe ask him something—but he just couldn’t quite get it.

  Feeling his mother’s hands, tense on his own, he knew to the bottom of his heart that she would die before she let anything happen to him. But he also knew that at this moment he was probably better suited to protect her. He just hadn’t discovered how. But he had to find a way. Because the presence wasn’t going to give up. It was going to keep coming back until it got whatever it was it wanted.

  His mother squeezed his hand again, and he shrugged a question.

  Virgil’s calling for Barbara. I guess he hasn’t found her yet, she signed.

  He shook his head. Maybe Virgil would make it back. He said a silent prayer for both the sheriff and the old lady. Then he added a heartfelt plea for the rest of them.

  “Oswald!”

  Barbara’s voice cut through the rain, and when Jake heard the dog yapping away through the forest he realized the woman had run off after the mutt.

  Great.

  “Barbara!” That was Virgil.

  What the hell was Cramer doing letting the group get broken up like that? He could have done a better job herding cats. But it dawned on Jake that it was just as much his own fault for keeping the old woman in the dark about Jimmy. By the sound the dog was moving fast. Jake shone his flashlight in the direction of the barks, but all he could see was the sheen of the light on rain-soaked foliage.

  Hurrying back down the trail, he lost his footing and hit the ground hard on his back. He crashed down the slimy slope like a wild bull, tucking the flashlight tight against his chest and balling up to protect his vitals. He was bounced from tree to tree through the slick mud, finally splashing to a stop in three feet of water.

  He slapped his way to his feet and surveyed his surroundings.

  It looked like he was in the Murphys’ backyard. What was left of a screen house was pressed up against the porch by the current, and the handle of a mower was just visible above the surface in the middle of the lawn. A lone candle shone in one window. Jake had figured that the Murphy place would have flooded already, but the water was only up to the floor line.

  He could barely hear Barbara’s screams over the rain and rushing water. She was still calling Oswald’s name, and he thought he heard Mandi shouting, too. But he knew Cramer would never leave Mandi and Pierce alone.

  He climbed the back stoop and knocked, and when no one answered he tried the door, but it was locked. So he knocked again. The echo of his knuckles against the wood seemed to hang in the yard. He shone the flashlight around, hoping Bert and Karen had evacuated already and weren’t stuck in the valley like they were.

  But then surely they wouldn’t have left a candle burning. The sense of wrongness tightened his stomach.

  He leaned over the porch rail trying to see inside the kitchen, but the window was too far away. So he kicked the door. It rattled in its frame but held. He kicked it again, harder, nearer the knob. The jamb burst beside the striker, and the door flew open, extinguishing the candle on the counter. But more flickering light created wavy shadows down the hall. Reluctantly he unholstered his pistol.

  “Hello?” he called, realizing immediately that might have been a stupid thing to do.

  The probability kept nagging at him that the reason the candles were burning was that the Murphys hadn’t left. They just weren’t in any shape to answer the door.

  The silence sent a prickling sensation up the back of his neck as he slipped quickly through the kitchen, peeking both ways down the corridor before entering it. An open window gusted air through the curtains in the bedroom, but the room was empty. He turned back toward the living room, where all the candlelight seemed to be coming from. But the rest of the house was so dark behind him that he kept peeking back over his shoulder.

  Numerous candles burned around the room, lending it a funereal feel. The smell of tobacco smoke hung in the air, and Jake stared at the package of cigarettes and lighter on the end table beside the sofa. A tiny grating noise caught his attention, and he spun, tracing the sound to the front door. More than likely debris from the storm, blowing around the porch. Finally he eased the door open.

  A gallon jar clattered onto its side on the threshold and rolled toward the steps. Jake caught it, shining the flashlight across the glass.

  At first his mind refused to wrap around what he was seeing. He stood slowly, his stomach heaving, shining the light across the flooded front yard and surrounding trees. But no one was there. He lowered the light once more, and found himself staring into Bert’s unseeing eyes. His friend’s face was crushed into the tight confines of the jar, his nose broken against the glass, creating a wide-eyed mask of horror and fear. Jake gently lowered the jar to the porch floor and backed quickly into the house, slamming the door behind him.

  He rushed down the hall and through the kitchen, bursting out into the water in the backyard. Tree limbs and bramble bobbed along on the swift current. Suddenly a man’s laughter cut through the rain and water noise, and Jake spun just in time to flash the light in Jimmy’s face.

  He was stark naked with a butcher knife in one hand and a rifle in the other, and his eyes were bulging with madness. Jake aimed his pistol at Jimmy’s chest. At that range he could hardly miss, and the thought crossed his mind that he should pull the trigger. But just as suddenly the old fear returned, and he knew he couldn’t let the monster out. Not now. Not here. What if he killed Jimmy but couldn’t get the thing out of his head? What would happen to
Mandi, and Pierce, and the others?

  “Drop the weapons and step into the clearing!” he shouted.

  Jimmy laughed louder, staring down his nose at Jake and raising the rifle.

  “Put down the weapon!” screamed Jake, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  As Jimmy’s rifle leveled with Jake’s face, Jake leaped aside, the flash of the gun blinding him at the same instant he ripped off two quick shots of his own. Then the forest went dark again, and when he roved the light across it, Jimmy was gone.

  Jake crouched in the waist-deep water, creeping slowly toward the last spot he’d seen Jimmy. When he got there he spotted tracks in the mud and pine needles. He also found the rifle, but no sign of blood.

  But he must have hit the bastard, or he’d never have left the weapon.

  The thought of shooting yet another human being—even Jimmy—sickened him. But what choice had he had? He snatched up the rifle and backed carefully down into the water again. When he reached the spot where he had crashed into the backyard he scrabbled up the slope through the surrounding brush.

  “Mandi,” he screamed, finally stumbling out onto the path. “Cramer!”

  “Yo!” Cramer called back.

  Jake was staggering toward the sound of his partner’s voice when a light flashed in his eyes. He plunged, exhausted, into the small clearing where the group had gathered.

  “Jimmy’s out there,” he told Cramer, just as Virgil appeared out of the woods. “But I think I winged him, or he wouldn’t have dropped this.”

  “Couldn’t find Barbara,” said Virgil miserably. “You say you saw Jimmy?”

  Jake nodded. He could see Virgil gearing up to go crashing into the forest again. He grabbed the older man by the arm—leading him and Cramer away from the others—and gave them a brief account of what he had seen at the Murphys’.

  “A jar?” said Virgil, grimacing.

  “Yeah,” said Jake.

  “He’s crazy,” said Cramer. “He likes playing with his victims and with people’s minds. And this is Jimmy’s turf now. He’s better trained for the woods than we are.”