The Secret: A Thriller

by David Haywood Young

  I stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths, then started climbing down—glad I held neither the sheeting nor the stapler in my hands. My arms and legs were trembling.

  Not so much from the near fall, though. How had Abby managed to steady the ladder? She couldn’t have that much strength in her nine-year-old arms. Also, what in the hell had caught me before she got there?

  Our little group had grown—two more men had come out of the woods, and Jerry had found a family of four, parents and two adult children, wandering in town on one of his scouting expeditions. So we had decided to fix up the house that had once had a picture window facing the valley below.

  I looked around when I reached the ground. No adults nearby. I could see only Abby…and Sam, the kid I’d originally thought was thirteen. But he was so smart and all-around competent I’d begun to think that was off by at least a couple of years. Maybe more. Small for his age—malnutrition, maybe? He was staring back at me, frowning.

  After a while I found a better place to brace the ladder and climbed up to finish sealing around the window—we were going to caulk the inside, too, in case of bugs.

  So—had Abby somehow shoved me to safety with her mind? Or had it been Sam? Either way, there was more going on with the kids than we adults knew. Or at least with Abby.

  I wasn’t planning to mention it, though. No upside to that.

  * * *

  Frank stuck his head into the room where Abby, Amy and a couple of kids I didn’t know yet were about to start working on their math skills, it being my turn to figure out something to keep the mob of urchins busy. “Ash? Got somebody out here who says he knows you.”

  My eyes felt tight. It couldn’t be Rebecca—probably. Robbie? Though it could just be some more remote family member, or someone I’d gone to school with, I cautioned myself. Too soon to get excited. “Coming,” I told him. “Hey kids? How about you tell each other stories or something for a while. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank God,” one of the girls said fervently. “Math sucks ass.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or try to maintain some sort of discipline, but just shook it off and did neither. I’d worry about the kids’ social skills later.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jerry had taken a couple of guys with him this time, and they’d come back with an actual flatbed truck—with people on the back. Strangers, as far as I could see from where I stood, next to where Sam was busily hanging a deer to let it bleed out.

  Which was pretty cool. Useful kid. I gave Sam a pat on the back. He rolled his eyes and grinned, which I figured was a fair mix of reactions.

  But that deer reminded me: we had plenty of food for the moment. But we were starting to have a town again, too. At some point we were going to have to come up with a believable way to sustain ourselves.

  Move back into the valley and grow crops? Go on foraging expeditions for supplies? Start hunting larger game than squirrels in earnest, rather than playing at it as we had been so far? I couldn’t think of any safe options for us. But what else were we going to do? Huddle together and starve?

  Then I grinned a little. Maybe we could build a bunch of bug traps. And eat well after a swarm.

  I followed George to the other side of the truck, passing a few wide-eyed newcomers as they began to walk around, taking in our little ad-hoc village. Civilization, sort of.

  We walked up to a group of four men lying on the ground, tied up and hooded. A couple sported what looked like recent gunshot wounds. Jerry stood over them.

  “What’s up?” I asked him when he saw me coming.

  “They were out patrolling,” he told me. “I…well, I nearly killed them back in town, because I was pretty sure they were from that bunch back at the high school and they started shooting first.”

  I nodded. “But you didn’t. What changed your mind?”

  “Not sure my mind’s changed at all,” he said. “But this one here said he had a message. For you, from Reverend Bob.”

  I cocked my head. “Hell of a way to deliver a message. Shoot first, ask any survivors to pass on the word?”

  The hooded man’s head moved left, then right. Then sagged a little.

  “He’s gagged under there,” Jerry told me. “We could let him talk, maybe. Or just shoot him. I figured, your message, your call.”

  I wasn’t happy about the idea of shooting these men without even seeing their faces. But it wasn’t just about me—we had other people here. Kids, too—not many, but some. They were whatever future we’d get to have.

  “How about we start by taking off that one’s gag,” I said. “Just the gag. And if he tries to look around, you can…no. Hand me a gun? If he tries anything, even trying to look around? I’ll shoot him.”

  Jerry nodded slowly. “You’re the boss.”

  I frowned at that, but then shrugged and held out my hand. This wasn’t the time to talk about that.

  Jerry handed me a pistol and squatted down to remove the prisoner’s gag.

  “Sorry, Ash,” the guy croaked, and I jumped a little. “It’s not a message from Bob. I just said that so these guys,” he said, nodding all around, “would think I was important.”

  “Shit, Tim,” I said. “What happened. No, wait, do you want some water first?”

  “Later,” he said. “But yes. If I get to live. Ash, Bob knows all about your little group here. He’s been…preaching, against you. Talking about scourging all of you from the land. He especially talks about you. Personally. Says you’re in charge here and leading your people astray.”

  I shook my head, then realized Tim couldn’t see it. “He knows where we are?”

  Tim gave a little laugh. “2531 Old Hollow Road. At least that’s the address he keeps talking about. You’re the Demon of Old Hollow, if you were wondering.”

  “Shit,” Jerry said from behind Tim. He’d been holding a knife ready—in case I wasn’t quick enough with the gun, I guess—and it jerked in toward Tim’s throat…but then Jerry seemed to reconsider. “Fuck,” he added after a moment.

  I reached forward and untied Tim’s hood, then lifted it off his head. “Tell me more.”

  Tim’s face was haggard, as if he hadn’t slept much in the last few weeks. And thin—I guessed they weren’t getting much food in town. Or at least Tim hadn’t been. He blinked in the sunlight, and turned watery bloodshot eyes toward me. “People have…changed. A lot of them. Not just the werewolves anymore. All sorts of things. And Bob seems to be in the center of it. He looks…mostly normal. But everybody seems to listen to him. Eisler’s supposed to be in charge half the time, but everybody knows he does what Bob tells him.”

  I stood, thinking. Then quirked an eyebrow at Tim. “Really? Werewolves?”

  He gave a slight shrug. “You know. Like the guy who took Susie.”

  Yeah, I’d figured that much out on my own. But still. Werewolves? I guessed that was sort of accurate. Except for the full-moon part. And the wolf part. And, probably, the contagious-via-biting part. So, basically, it was just about hair and teeth, wasn’t it?

  “Tell us about the Rev’s plans for us,” Jerry said, still behind Tim and with his knife still in hand.

  “Don’t know. Nothing good.” Tim turned a pleading gaze toward me. “Ash. I’ve got to go back. He only let me out because…because he’s got Felicia.”

  I blinked at him, and sat on a rock not far from my friend. “Is Rachel…okay?”

  Tim shrugged, not looking at me. “She left. Right out of the school, the first night we were there. Felicia told me she went to look for Susie.”

  I winced. “Any news about Suze?” I asked, because I thought I should—but his expression was all the answer I needed. “Listen, Tim—why were you out? Where were you headed?”

  He glanced at the other captives. “These people came in to ask for help. They’ve got sick family. Something about a rash, and high fever, and people were dying. I had some antibiotics in my bag, before your people grabbed us.”


  “Did Bob send a guard with you?”

  “Yeah. Two of them. But…well, I’d seen some of the things those guys had done back in the school. And I thought Bob might have sent me out just to get rid of me without making waves too. So—I did what I needed to do. As soon as we were away from the school.”

  I studied him. My friend the doctor, apparently now also a cold-blooded murderer. If I was correctly understanding him. But I hadn’t seen what he’d seen. And he was plenty smart enough to know we’d interrogate the people Jerry’s crew had brought in with him, so it wasn’t as if he’d had much of a chance to hide what he’d done.

  I nodded, then stood up. “I need to go talk to some people, Tim. I’ll get back to you when we figure this out.”

  “No, wait!” Tim said as Jerry, behind him, picked up the hood. I listened as the hood, made of what had once been a checked flannel shirt, lowered and covered Tim’s face. “You need to know—it’s not just my daughter in there. Robbie is with them too.”

  * * *

  As I left Tim and the other captives, Frank followed me. Behind us, Jerry started calling for gloves so he could check the prisoners for a rash.

  I lifted an eyebrow at Frank when we were out of earshot. He shrugged. “It’s your call, Ash. What do you want to do?”

  “Beats me. No, wait, that’s not true. I have to go look for my kid. And maybe, if Bob has his people thinking I’m the big bad guy here, letting a few of them see me away from this place is a good idea too. Lots of people here. But it’s not just up to me—”

  “Sure it is,” Frank said. “Who else makes decisions around here? For all of us, I mean?”

  I stopped and looked at him.

  He grinned with the left side of his mouth. “You didn’t even notice you were in charge, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  He shrugged. “We just…generally, we tried to figure things out, and you generally made sense. So we started doing things your way. I guess it’s sort of a habit by now.” His gaze sharpened. “It’s kind of a problem, man. If you go, where’s that leave us?”

  I stood there, blinking. “Let’s get some people together,” I said eventually. “We’ll figure it out.”

  They really looked to me for decisions? I…well, I’d tried to make sense, sure. That was about survival. But I’d mostly been trying to make a safe place for Abby.

  Which…was another problem. I couldn’t leave Robbie down there at the school. But I couldn’t take Abby into town with me to get him either. And I’d promised to let her know where I was at all times—“somewhere in town” probably wasn’t going to cut it.

  * * *

  “All three of those guys are infected with something,” Jerry said. “Maybe the doc too. He’s got what might be a rash starting, or might just be some scraped skin on his back. I asked, but he hasn’t said a word since you left. Probably figures I don’t count for much.”

  I looked at him. Jerry gave me a little smirk. So maybe he and Frank had been talking. Or all of them had.

  He, Frank, George, and I were sitting in the cabin. Word had spread about the new people and the rash—but Frank was at least partly right: nobody beyond the four of us seemed to think it was up to them to figure out what to do about any of it.

  “Look,” Frank said after a moment. “Ash, we really do need to know more about their setup down at the school. So if you head in, and take some people with you…I know you need to check on your son. But you’ll still be helping the rest of us.”

  I frowned.

  Jerry spoke up. “There are a few other kids here. They seem okay so far. So…I think Abby will be safe enough with them.” He nodded at Frank. “You can take care of them, right? Look out for the kids while Ash and I head into town?”

  “You’re coming?” I asked.

  He looked uncomfortable—but only for a moment. “I’ve got to. Those kids in town…they’re not right. Maybe your son’s okay. But maybe he’s not. You can’t be the one making that call and bringing him back. Because there are other folks living here, and he’s your kid, and—”

  I waved him off. “I get it, I get it. And you’re right. But we don’t need a bunch of people,” I said. “We’re not going to get into a war with Bob’s tribe down there. We’re just going to take a look.”

  Nods all around. So I hit them with the next part. “I’m taking Tim—the doctor—with me. If we can I want to check in on the sick people too. If there’s something else about to hit us I’d like to know about it.”

  George spoke up. “Two questions. First. Do you trust this guy? And second. What do we do with the others who came in with him?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve trusted Tim for years. But his daughter is back at the high school. He’ll do anything to get her back. That said, if Bob is using her to force Tim to come back to him, I’m not going to be the one to keep him away.”

  Jerry scowled. “This is getting complicated. You want to check on the sick people, check out the high school, and let the doc go back in? After he’s been here? And maybe rescue your kid too while you’re at it?”

  “Bob knows we’re here already. Might already have people in here with us. As for the rest of it—yeah. That’s what I want to do.”

  George shook his head morosely. Frank grinned at me. Jerry scowled a little, then shrugged. “Fine. What about the other three guys? With the rash.”

  “We leave them here,” I said after a moment. “They can stay in the cabin, with enough food and water to last them for a while. Give them some buckets too. If Tim can figure out how to treat the others, we can try helping the ones who came with him when we get back. My advice? Otherwise, leave them alone until then. They stay inside, or they get shot.”

  Jerry was nodding, looking a little happier. “Good plan,” he said. “I don’t want them with us—I don’t want to catch whatever they have, but more than that I don’t want all of them complicating things in town. If we have to make some tough decisions.”

  I met his eyes, and was pretty sure he had more potential complications in mind than a rash: Tim wasn’t the only one among us who would do whatever it took for his kid. But I wasn’t blind to the situation out here either. Robbie, if we found him with the teens I’d seen before, might not be in his right mind. Frank would keep my daughter safe…but she was also a sort of hostage against my good behavior. I couldn’t throw the camp to the wolves—werewolves, ha—or Bob either, because it would mean endangering my daughter.

  I stood up. “Tim might be helpful when we get into town anyway,” I said. “He knows more about the setup at the high school than we do. So, okay.” I turned to Jerry. “You’re our expert on getting in and out. Who else do you want to take?”

  “Nobody,” he answered.

  George looked up from the knife he’d been using to clean his fingernails. “I’m coming.”

  I met his gaze, and remembered his brother had disappeared. For all we knew he was in the high school too. But I wasn’t in a position to start questioning other people’s motivations.

  “Good enough,” I said. “Frank? Ready to handle this place while we’re gone?”

  He looked surprised. But somebody had to do it, and—well, being left in charge might make it a little easier for him to watch out for Abby. Some of the newer arrivals were more than a little suspicious of her and the other kids.

  “Yeah,” Frank said after a moment. “I’ve got it.”

  * * *

  “Best route from here?” I asked Jerry when we’d worked our way down from the mountain.

  He shrugged. “Depends on where we’re going first.”

  “Sick people,” Tim said. “Doesn’t make sense any other way. They’re supposed to be over in the Projects.”

  George grunted, but didn’t say anything. But I knew what he meant. The Projects were a few blocks of low-income housing that had been built soon after the prison had come to town. And not built very well. So anybody who was holed up over there had probably started out nearby—the
y wouldn’t be a choice destination for anyone looking for a new place to live.

  I shook my head, irritated at my own prejudice. George’s too. I didn’t have any reason to assume people who lived there were any worse than people anywhere else in town—they were just short of money. Or they had been.

  Of course that part of town was notorious for break-ins and shootings too.

  Part of that, I knew, was the gossip of outraged residents who had lived in the area for decades. We’d had poor people in Henge all along, of course. But they’d been…spread out. Not gathered together in what I’d once heard Mayor Highbotham call “a festering pustule of white trash rejects.” Which was on one of his more polite days.

  Also—I’d shared more than a few beers with Tim in his kitchen, where he’d kept a police scanner going at all times. To be aware as soon as possible if he was needed, he always claimed, but really I figured he was just hoping for good gossip. So I’d heard firsthand the sort of police profiling that went on—anyone out after dark near the projects was treated as a potential criminal. “Long-haired hippie type” was a favorite description prior to an arrest or a house search—part of the deal residents in the Projects signed up for was that they had to open up their homes to “inspection” at any time, upon request of a police officer or any other city official. Anybody not white was generally described as being Norwegian. And immediately a suspect. That way, see, it wasn’t a bit racist.

  I figured most of what the cops did over there was probably illegal. And I wondered sometimes just how honest the police typically were about the drugs and guns (another right residents signed away) they claimed to find in the Projects. It sure seemed that anyone who got on the bad side of a public employee was later discovered by coincidence to be cooking or selling meth, for instance.

  I’d never liked Mike Eisler even before he’d become Chief of Police. My opinion had gone down steadily since. Nothing lately had changed my mind—though I’d work with him if I could, for now.