Gateway

by David C. Cassidy

  Kit fell to the ground, clearly in pain. He swung the crutch again, striking Judd in the ankle. Judd howled. Kit lost his grip on the crutch, and it slid down the face of the slippery rock.

  Judd lost his footing and stumbled back. His inertia carried him, and he screamed when he slammed onto his back. He slid down the rock several feet, and when his head struck a rock-hard root, dazing him, he dropped the knife. Everything spun. The lightning flickered above him, and then the gloom closed in.

  ~ 194

  Jared held Marisa’s hand for as long as she needed him to. He would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t need it himself.

  She finally looked over at him, wiping the tear from her cheek. “We’d better hurry.”

  Jared nodded, and while Marisa drove, he checked the battery level on his phone. It was up to eight percent. “I need to download that app. Pray we have service out here.”

  They did. One bar. He entered his password and downloaded the app. The download was painfully slow, but once it was finished, he launched the app. To his surprise, it actually worked.

  “Stop blinding me,” Marisa said.

  Jared killed the app and plugged his phone back in. Between the download and his strobe test, the battery level had dropped to four percent. They didn’t have much further to go, so the most they could hope for was maybe ten percent. It would have to be enough. And as they turned onto County Road 3 and drove for the heart of the storm, he prayed that they had enough time.

  ~ 195

  About a half mile from the trail that led to the falls, the Land Rover’s engine sputtered.

  “What’s happening?” Marisa said.

  “Shit,” Jared said. “Pull over.”

  She checked the fuel gauge. “You’ve got to be kidding.” She steered onto the shoulder, and the engine stalled.

  “I think it’s raining even harder now,” he said.

  “Of course it is.”

  He unplugged his phone. The battery was up to eight percent. He slid it into his shirt pocket, then turned to Marisa. “I’ll get the gun.”

  She hesitated. Nodded.

  He got out into the rain and fetched the revolver from the box in the back. He climbed back inside, drenched.

  Marisa stared at the .38. “I can’t believe it’s come to this.”

  Jared loaded the chambers. “I can’t, either.”

  She gave him a look.

  “What,” he said. “I do know how to use it.”

  “Are you a good shot?”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

  “Promise me you won’t shoot if Kit’s in the line of fire.”

  “Of course I won’t.” He could barely see thirty feet beyond the windshield. “Ready?”

  She gave him the car keys and they got out together. He locked the Land Rover with the remote, slipped the keys into his pocket, and they met at the front of the vehicle. He looked down at the gun, slid it into the back of his pants, and as thunder roared above, they headed into the storm.

  It took them almost fifteen minutes to reach the trailhead. Tire tracks cut through the thick wet grass. Jared guided them through the ditch and into the clearing.

  Judd’s pickup loomed like a dark beast in the maelstrom. Seeing it abandoned in the storm sent chills up Jared’s spine. Finding the empty whiskey bottle and the keys in the ignition shook his resolve to save Kit. Still, he maintained a brave face when he saw the despair in Marisa’s eyes.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

  He led her through the tall grass. The elements drove against them, and it was all they could do to keep going. They finally reached the edge of the forest, and they huddled out of the storm behind some trees.

  Jared stared down the path. There was barely enough light to see. His eyes met Marisa’s, and she nodded. They moved back to the path and darkness swallowed them.

  ~ 196

  Kit shielded his eyes from the wind and the rain—but mostly the lightning—as he stared down the rocky slope at Judd Collado. He saw little more than a blur without his glasses. The storm made it worse. Even the nearest trees were dark, indistinct pillars.

  He saw a hint of Judd’s face—he was at most eight or nine feet down. He couldn’t see those piercing eyes, but he guessed they were closed. All he knew was that the man wasn’t moving.

  His ankle throbbed. He managed to get to all fours, and he crawled back behind the tree. It was a struggle, and he finally emerged upright with the single crutch he still had.

  He didn’t know what to do. The other crutch was at the bottom of the slope. If Judd was dead, that was bad enough. If he wasn’t, it was more than likely his eyes would pop open just as he was standing next to him trying to get by. And if Judd grabbed the knife—

  Thunder rumbled with the lightning, and he turned from the flashes. The slope was simply too risky, and he shifted around to face the other direction. With the crutch supporting him, he tried hopping on one foot. Pain shot up his leg every time. Even if he could bear it, he wouldn’t get very far. He had a hard enough time with two crutches.

  He turned again and faced the steep slope. Rainwater ran swiftly along the rock. He put weight on his good leg and stuffed the rubber foot of the crutch onto a root for support. Slowly, he shifted down the slope.

  He wanted to nudge Judd with his foot to see if he’d stir—or to make sure he was dead—but the fear of bringing him to was enough to kill the idea. He made a few more feet, and more of Judd came into fuzzy focus. Judd’s eyes were definitely closed. For the moment.

  He considered grabbing the knife, but it was on the other side of Judd. He couldn’t reach it if he tried.

  A strong gust threatened him as he moved further down, and he nearly toppled. He got to the bottom and picked up the second crutch.

  He stared down the path. The woods were thicker here. Darker. Scarier.

  He turned back to the slope. If he could make his way up, he could follow the trail out of the woods. If he could do that, maybe he could wave down a car. That was, if anyone was out in this storm. He doubted even his mom knew where he was.

  He dug in with one crutch and tried to gain footing on one of the roots. It was too far to reach, and extending his leg didn’t help. He tried to jump up, only to slip on the slick rock. Lightning flickered, and he shut his eyes just in time. He lowered his head, avoiding the flashes until they stopped.

  He turned around and faced the path. It was a black hole waiting to swallow him. He took it as thunder struck, moving as quickly as he could. The route was fairly flat, and he made good progress. But when he heard Judd shout, he froze.

  The sky lit up. For a moment he gleaned a hint of another trail heading off to his left. It didn’t look like it was used much, but it was definitely a path. It seemed even darker that way, but maybe that was a good thing. He might not be able to see Judd very well—or at all—but maybe Judd wouldn’t see him. And if he was lucky, maybe Judd would stay on the main path.

  He stepped off the trail and felt the darkness close in.

  ~ 197

  As Kit wandered from the main path, Jared and Marisa reached the first rise on the trail. The wind grew fiercer with every step. Hard rain stung like sharp stones. Marisa started up the rise, but Jared asked her to stop. He was out of breath.

  “I need a second,” he groaned.

  She stepped back down and huddled against him. They waited no more than a minute, and she helped him up the slope.

  At the top, he grabbed her by the arm. “Look.”

  There were clear signs of a struggle in the dirt. Footprints. Most of them were washed away, but of the few that remained, some were small.

  Thunder boomed as they carried on. Lightning flashed. Beyond the sounds of the storm, they could barely hear their own footsteps.

  “Jared—”

  “I know. The lightning. It could cause a seizure in him. Couldn’t it.”

  “Yes. And he’s way overdue for his pill.”

&
nbsp; “He’s smart, Mar. He’ll cover his eyes. He’ll be okay. Okay?”

  She nodded hesitantly. Then her eyes spilled with fear. “Oh my god!” She darted to the edge of the path and reached down the slope. She pulled her hand back up, holding Kit’s glasses. “Oh, no, Jared. Oh, please … no.”

  He put an arm around her. “Easy, Mar. This only means he was here.”

  Then they both saw the blood. It was only a little, streaked along a small rock.

  Instinctively, Jared cupped a hand to Marisa’s lips. “Don’t scream. The last thing we want is to give Judd any warning we’re here.”

  Marisa nodded, and he drew his hand away. She slipped an arm of Kit’s glasses inside her shirt, hanging them on her chest. She looked up at Jared with the coldest expression—Oh, if looks could kill, he thought—and then they headed down the trail.

  ~ 198

  Judd groaned in pain as he opened his eyes. The driving rain made him throw up a hand in front of them. Thunder and lightning danced in perfect step.

  He was upside down, looking toward his feet up the slope. His back screamed with his ankle when he shifted onto his side. He got on his stomach, then to his knees, supporting his frame with his good hand. His wounded one found the knife, and he flung it to the bottom of the slope.

  He crawled down slowly and reached the bottom. He got to his feet. The pain in his back was still a bitch, but not as bad as it could have been. His ankle was no worse than it was.

  He stewed. He had no idea how long he’d been out; all he really knew was that little bastard had bested him once more. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

  Lightning flickered, illuminating the path. He cursed. The crutch was gone.

  He looked up the slope. Too steep. Too slippery. No way the kid could have made it back up. No way.

  He turned to the path that led to the falls. The kid had taken it, of that he was certain. And fucked-up eyes or not, the little shit was a lot smarter than he looked. A lot smarter.

  “You’re dead, kid! You’re fucking dead, ya hear?”

  Oh, yeah. The kid was smart, all right.

  He picked up the knife. He hobbled off the path and cut through the woods, taking a shortcut to the old hiking trail.

  ~ 199

  Kit followed the trail as well as he could. It wound through the rocky terrain like a blurry, crazy maze. It was grim and gray in these thick woods, save for the sporadic bursts of light above the treetops. Still, while he welcomed the illumination, however sparse, those fleeting flashes demanded his vigilance. He kept his gaze low, and shut his eyes at the first flicker that could trigger a seizure.

  Thunder startled him and he nearly lost his footing. The rain was less intense with the tree cover, the wind, too, but his fatigue and the growing ache in his leg slowed him down. Worse still, his own fears were beginning to haunt him. Everything was out of focus, and everything looked menacing. It was one thing to fear that a monster was under your bed—or even know it—but it was quite another to fear that that tree to your left was a dark shape with a claw … that every tree was.

  He moved off the path and hunkered down behind a felled pine. He saw no sign of Judd Collado. When he tried to listen for his approach above the numbing sound of the rain, all he heard was more thunder. Maybe Judd had taken the main trail. Or maybe he’d given up and had gone back to his truck.

  The woods were growing darker, and he began to wonder if he would ever escape. He had no idea where he was or where he was going. The path was less distinct with every turn; every tree looked exactly the same. It was like getting swept into the deepest snowstorm he could ever imagine.

  He thought about his mom. What would she do if he never came home? What if he ended up like Artie and was never found?

  He rested a while longer, then started back on the trail. For the next several minutes he managed to follow it, but as he came over a rise, the path seemed to blend with the forest. It was growing so dark that he couldn’t tell if he should go left, right, or straight ahead.

  He put a hand to his eyes. He left a thin gap between his fingers, waiting for the lightning to guide him. It came quickly, and he risked a glance about him as it lit up the woods. He couldn’t be sure, but it appeared that the path was straight ahead.

  He plodded forward. His arms ached from using the crutches for so long, and the crutches felt twice as heavy now. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

  A new sound drew his attention, and he stopped to listen. It was dull and muted, yet as constant as the ceaseless rain. He followed it, winding through the thickest woods he had encountered so far. The sound carried from his left, growing with each step. As he made his way to the top of a short hill, he found its source: a fast-flowing river.

  The way down was steep. Luckily, there was little exposed rock, and his crutches were able to grip the soft ground. He moved slowly and methodically, and finally found solid footing. The rushing water was even louder now, nearly as loud as the rain.

  Welcome light guided him along the riverbank. The thunder seemed louder, the rain harder. The winds were much stronger, unhindered by the open space of the river.

  A curve in the path forced him back into the woods. He could still hear the river, and he prayed that the path would take him back to it. The storm was less intense with the cover from the forest, but he much preferred the gray light of the open sky. Under the trees, the darkness came alive.

  He stopped. Shot a look over his shoulder.

  He thought he heard something. The unmistakable snap of a twig.

  Peering into the woods, he saw no one. Just those menacing trees and their monstrous shapes.

  The shape—

  Lightning flickered and his heart skipped. He nearly screamed.

  He thought he saw it. Not Judd Collado. Not a man.

  A monster.

  Thunder rolled on for several seconds. The wind and the rain drove their fury against him, and he threw up a hand to shield his face. He turned quickly. His crutches slipped on a rock and fell away from him. He toppled forward, and the wind rushed out of him as he struck the ground. He groaned at the agony in his leg.

  Despite the pain, he got to his knees and picked up a crutch. He steadied himself and picked up the other as he rose to his feet. The path curved back toward the river, and he finally emerged at its throat and stood near the water’s edge. Ahead, perhaps ten paces distant, he saw the falls. Saw the bridge.

  The bridge in his dream.

  He hurried. Something was in the woods, something not Judd Collado. And it was right behind him.

  Now he stood at the foot of the bridge. A gust drove him back a step. The bridge swayed. It was old, and with broken planks and missing stringer ropes on some of the railings, it looked like it might collapse at any moment. The moment he stepped on it.

  He turned to the woods. He saw nothing, yet was certain he had heard something creeping up behind him. Something close. He wanted to run, but when the lightning came, when he saw that black shape emerge from the darkness, saw that claw, he wanted to scream.

  And if that voice hadn’t come to him just as it had then, he might have.

  ~ 200

  “Mar,” Jared said, winded. She was several paces ahead of him, heading up another rocky hill.

  Marisa doubled back to help him. She was out of breath herself. “I forgot how long this is,” she admitted. “Is it us, or just the storm that’s making it so damn hard?”

  “I’d like to say the storm.” He could barely stand because of the fever. His hands and legs were numb. His bruise throbbed.

  From her expression, he could tell she was drowning in unpleasant thoughts. Not that he wasn’t. “What is it, Mar?”

  “Do you really think it will work?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a long shot.”

  “It’s not even the seizure that scares me the most,” she said. “I mean, I know it’s all we’ve got. As his mother, I can’t believe I’m even thinking about doing this. But what really
scares me is this: What if something else comes through?”

  Jared started to say something, then didn’t. The idea hadn’t even occurred to him. For all he knew, the shape could be the tip of the iceberg. There could be a whole army of hell just waiting to come through.

  “Well?” she said. “Goosebumps?”

  “All over.” He wavered.

  Marisa steadied him, shielding her eyes from the elements. “Are you going to make it?”

  He didn’t know. They still had this hill to climb, and shortly after that was the last rise before the falls, the toughest slog of all. Even if he made it that far, the journey down the other side of that treacherous slope might prove too much for either of them in the storm. The thought dizzied him more than he already was.

  “Jared?” She gave him a mild shake. “Jared.”

  His mind was trapped in a fog. He could barely focus his thoughts. “I’m good,” he said, trying to reassure her when he saw the fear in her eyes. “Just give this old mule a push if you see him waver.”

  He started up the hill, then stopped and turned around. He owed her the truth. “One more thing: If the mule doesn’t make it, you have to.”

  “How? How could I possibly handle your brother?”

  Jared reached behind him and tapped the revolver.

  ~ 201

  Weather the storm.

  For Kit, the words came like a warm whisper in his ear. Yet, they seemed so distant, as if they had come from the greatest reach. From another world.

  He squinted into the storm, trying to focus on the black shape looming at the edge of the trail. It stood perhaps twenty feet away, but even at that distance it seemed to tower above him. The dull ashen light gave it dimension and depth, made it all too real.