The Secret: A Thriller

by David Haywood Young

  My vision was clearing. I could see Jerry, also bound, lying prone on the floor a few feet away. I knew where we were: in one of the classrooms of Henge High.

  It was awfully dark in there—I could see the windows had been blacked out by what looked like a combination of construction paper and duct tape. I was pretty sure it was still daytime, though. My sense of time had been getting stronger, lately.

  I shrugged at Eisler. “Guess I’m not all that important then. I heard I’m supposed to be the big bad, right? So how come he’s not here to gloat about it?”

  Eisler closed his eyes for a minute, then shook his head and opened them. “You’ll find out. Let me put it this way: Reverend Bob doesn’t come out in daylight much anymore.”

  “You either, it looks like,” I said, nodding toward the blackened window.

  Eisler shrugged, and started to say something but a female form drifted up beside him. At first I didn’t recognize her—her hair was wild, her eyes serene, and I’d only ever seen either at the other extreme.

  Martha Eisler. His wife.

  “You promised,” she told him, barely glancing at me. “You know you owe this man. His family. And so do I.”

  Eisler had clearly bitten into a rotten lemon. He started to reply a couple of times, but swallowed both responses. Then: “Yes, dear. I promised. Let me have a few minutes here?”

  While that had been going on I’d been checking out the room. There were a couple more prisoners tied up, and four armed guards. Everybody looked…pretty normal. I was a little surprised—with the swarms, the changes Jerry and I had been going through (and Abby too, come to think of it), I’d half expected to see a freakshow.

  Then it hit me: Eisler’s wife was here. My wife was…gone. Somewhere. Maybe dead. But Eisler still had—

  “How’re your kids, Martha?” I asked. “John and Bart? They doing okay?”

  She shook her head, not looking at me. With a last lingering—and stern—gaze into Eisler’s eyes, she patted his arm and left.

  “I’m sorry, Mike,” I told him, because I was. “I’ve got to ask, though. Is Robbie here? My son? Can I see him?”

  Eisler frowned, flatfooted. “Your kid? I haven’t seen him since…that first day. When you and Doc Sullivan came to get your kids.”

  I stared, not really seeing Eisler. I could tell he was telling the truth—maybe he could fool me; I felt his mind and it was the strongest I’d probed, or failed to probe, since I’d started to get my new abilities—but I believed him.

  And if Eisler was telling the truth…that meant Tim had lied. Had used my need to find my son to convince me to bring him back here.

  Eisler saw some of that in my face. Or sensed it some other way. “Sorry, Ash. Your kid’s not here. And I know I said we were square earlier, but…Martha’s right. I guess some debts are hard to pay off.”

  I focused on his face again. He seemed regretful.

  “Thing is, Ash, I’m not sure what I can do for you. Bob’s coming soon.”

  I nodded, looking away and wondering if I’d be able to salvage anything from this. If I could protect my family, at all, from anything ever again.

  “I gotta ask, though,” Eisler continued. “You and that asshole”—I could tell he meant Jerry but I didn’t care much—“were out scouting in the daylight?”

  I nodded. Strange question. But I didn’t care too much.

  “That's…interesting. Ash! Pay attention. Make sure you tell Bob that. Okay? You might be really useful to him. Maybe you can cut a deal, save yourself.”

  I was staring at the floor. Eisler kicked my feet again. “You hear me?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Sure, Mike, I’ll do that. Makes a lot of sense.”

  I could feel his frustration, the first emotional sense I’d gotten off him since waking up. “Damnit,” he said. “Just do it.”

  I nodded, waiting for him to go away.

  * * *

  People came and went in the torch-lit room. I knew I should pay attention, but the business with the swarm had sapped my energy beyond belief.

  I grinned a little at the thought. Belief? How was that helpful? Nothing about the world around me matched any of what I’d believed, before. Very little of what I’d believed about people had turned out to be true either. Well, Robbie had been consistent, as far as I knew. But…Rebecca? Tim? Abby was still my little girl…was that real, or an act?

  I looked over at Jerry, lying on his side and facing away from me. I could see his hands were tied more tightly than mine—they’d gone a dark mottled color I assumed was red but couldn’t quite make out in the torchlight. Hadn’t these people heard of flashlights and lanterns? Or…did they like the darkness? I guessed they must.

  I was done with assumptions and expectations, I decided. Maybe the best thing was to let my mind drift, to…go with the flow, as people had said far too often when I was a kid. Relax, don’t fight it.

  I was nodding off when a woman I didn’t know—stringy gray hair, missing a few teeth, but with what seemed to be a kind expression—brought me some kind of porridge in a bowl. It wasn’t quite oatmeal, or Cream of Wheat either. Something, anyway. She fed me, slowly, and then offered me water from a Nalgene bottle.

  Another thing I might never do again: go on a camping trip, for fun, with or without my family.

  She hadn’t said a word, and neither had I, but when she stood I caught her eye. “Thank you.”

  She gave me a curious look, and left.

  I realized after a moment that I was the only one in the room who’d been fed. On the other hand, none of the others had been conscious when she’d come in. Jerry was breathing okay, but nudging him had no effect.

  I decided to relax, again. I was a little warm, and my arms ached some, but otherwise I was comfortable at the moment.

  Maybe that was what I should do—live in the moment. Be grateful for what comfort was available, and avoid thinking too much.

  Part of my mind wanted to be suspicious, to question my sudden self-satisfied lassitude. But I was too tired to care all that much. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad here…

  * * *

  Somebody was kicking my feet again. “Damnit, Eisler—”

  I stopped, looking up. It wasn’t Eisler this time.

  “Good evening, Mr. Ashton,” Reverend Bob said, and smiled.

  The light was still dim, and I would have been sure it was dark outside even if Eisler hadn’t told me Bob would come after nightfall. I squinted up at him. He was…thinner. His skin sort of glowed, and the hail-fellow-well-met aura he’d formerly projected didn’t seem to be present. Which, to my mind, was an improvement.

  “Um…hi, Reverend,” I said. “What’s the plan?”

  He grinned a little more widely, and I saw there was something…wrong…with his mouth. “A plan! I do like plans, Mr. Ashton, but I’m no longer convinced they’re very useful. The world changes, you see, and often faster than I can react or even realize.”

  I pursed my lips. “Strange as it may seem, I was thinking something similar not long ago.”

  “Were you really? Well, it’s only reasonable I suppose. Under the circumstances. Speaking of which—you seem rather tired. Worn out.”

  “Um…yeah.” He frowned a little, so I added: “I’ll probably feel better in the morning. It’s been a long day—I could use some sleep.”

  He frowned again, peering more closely at my face. “Mr. Ashton…may I be a bit unusual, and perhaps a bit of a fussbudget? I would very much appreciate it if you would open your mouth and show me your teeth.”

  My teeth? And then I remembered. Bob had been checking people’s mouths before I’d left the school. “No fangs, no fur,” I told him, and opened wide.

  He leaned closer, and opened his mouth as he inspected mine—and I saw something disturbing.

  “You may close your mouth, Mr. Ashton,” Bob told me, and I did what he’d asked.

  Then I watched him curiously. “Find anything interesting in there?”
<
br />   “No. But then again…yes. You say you want to sleep tonight? And will have more energy in the morning?”

  “Yes…probably…?” Though I’d probably rest better if he untied me.

  “That’s fascinating. Even our former chief of police struggles to remain alert in the daytime.”

  I frowned, not following. But then he smiled again, and I stared at the elegant ivory canines that protruded from his jaws.

  “You, Mr. Ashton, are a conundrum. Some of our people do seem attracted to the daylight hours. Not so for most, however…and you are the first I’ve seen with a strong mind, one capable of influencing others, who is drawn to the day.”

  I shrugged, glad to learn I was special to Reverend Bob. “Maybe I can help you?” I heard myself ask him. “During the day, maybe, when you’re sleeping?”

  I frowned a little. What was I saying? Sure, Eisler had suggested I do something of the sort, but it was as if I hadn’t been able to control my own—

  “Excellent!” Reverend Bob grinned again, and I realized he had elongated fangs jutting from his lower jaw too, though they were more curved and appeared less sharp than his upper teeth. “I expect this will work out very well. But first, tell me—where is your family, Mr. Ashton? I know you care deeply for them, and of course I wish to protect them for you.”

  There was no way in hell I was going to answer that question. But my mouth opened again. “My daughter’s back home. In the mountains,” I said. “I don’t know about any others.”

  “Indeed? How unfortunate for you,” Bob said, seeming to lose interest. “Tonight you shall rest, and I shall carry out a plan that has occurred to me. Tomorrow you will see that I am a man of my word. And after dark, Mr. Ashton? We shall speak again of how you may help me.”

  I smiled. That all sounded good. “Great!” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Bob grimaced slightly. “Yes. I’m sure you are.” He turned to regard the rest of the room. Eisler had come in while Bob had been talking to me and I hadn’t even noticed.

  “Those two,” Bob told him, pointing to a couple of unconscious and bound men. “Wake them, if you can. They’ll do for tonight. The other two we’ll save for a bit. As for Mr. Ashton and his companion—”

  Jerry, next to me, twisted and shrieked. The back of his shirt bunched and swelled. He flopped over onto his belly, screaming.

  “Help him!” I shouted, staring at his undulating spine. “Something’s on him!”

  Several men had run into the room. “Hold him carefully,” Bob said. “This won’t take long.”

  Two of them grabbed Jerry, and pulled him to his feet. I could see his eyes clear, and he stood straight—but also at least a foot shorter than he’d been earlier in the day, and his ears now tapered to delicate points.

  Bob and Eisler were both staring at him. “Remove his shirt,” Bob instructed another man. “Cut it off. I don’t think…”

  The room went completely silent as Jerry stood in front of us, eyes defiant—and with silver and black wings spreading from his shoulderblades. His toes curled, and he appeared calmly ready to launch himself into the air.

  “That is…entirely new and fascinating,” Bob said happily. “However,” he added, turning to Eisler, “I don’t see a reason to change our plans?”

  Eisler shook his head, one hand on his gun.

  “Very well. Take two for the hunt, leave two for tomorrow, I’ll leave this situation for you, and then when you’re done I’ve an activity for you to complete before dawn.”

  Bob left.

  “Hey Jer,” I said, staring at my friend. “You look a little different today.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and gave me a little grin. “Did that asshole—”

  Then Eisler’s bullet tore a hole through his skull. Jerry’s brain and blood splashed against the cinderblock wall and he fell bonelessly.

  Eisler holstered the gun, then looked me in the eye. “Two things, Ash. First, that asshole and I had a history I’m not explaining to you. Second, I may owe you but I still don’t like you. I don’t care about your friends either. Are we clear?”

  I looked away, doing all I could not to jump at him. After a while he grunted, gave orders to take the two bound prisoners out of the room, and left.

  I sat back against the wall.

  Jerry was dead. Bob could clearly control my mind, or at least parts of it. Eisler…needed killing.

  Meanwhile, my brain was going fuzzy again. I wanted to plan, to figure out a next step, to think about how to escape.

  Abby! I suddenly realized! Bob knew where she was! I had to get out of here right n…

  My eyes closed.

  * * *

  “Hi, Daddy,” a voice said in the darkness. A small warm body snuggled up into my shoulder as I lay on the floor.

  I smiled. “Hey baby girl.”

  Then I woke up the rest of the way and opened my eyes. In front of me was Jerry’s corpse, his eyes gone a dark gold, his wings larger than before, and on his face I saw…feathers, where his white-blonde eyebrows had been. They were beautiful.

  He was still very dead. My nose told me his sphincters had relaxed. Worse, there were flies crawling on him. With his mouth open like that, and the bullet’s entry and exit wounds, they were crawling in him.

  But still. Beside me, snuggling against my shoulder with a tear-streaked face, was my daughter.

  “Abby?” I asked. “What happened?”

  She looked up at me, then away. “I was so scared, Daddy. Men came. I wanted to stop them, I tried but I couldn’t and they took me and I think they shot people and—”

  “Shh,” I told her. I wanted to say it would all be okay, but I was tied up on the floor next to my friend’s weirdly changed dead body. Credibility was an issue here, if I wanted to help her deal with any of this. “We’ll get through this somehow,” I told her instead. “Just hang on. We’ll get through it.”

  She cried some more, then seemed to settle down and was quiet against me. After a while I closed my eyes.

  When I opened them again she was gone.

  * * *

  Alone in the room. All day. No food, no water. No Abby. Just me and my thoughts. I’d had better company when Bob had come by.

  Had I really seen Abby? Or had that been a dream, or maybe some sort of mental projection from Reverend Bob?

  Then I found a strand of her golden hair on my leg, and my chest hurt. My daughter was really here? Did they plan to use her against me?

  Some time later I realized: it could still have been a dream. The strand could have come from anyone with the right color hair. It could all be Bob—or maybe even Eisler—messing with my head.

  So: had those been real fangs on Bob? What was he, some sort of vampire now? Long teeth, not coming out in the daytime, designating two prisoners for some kind of “hunt”—or was that just more messing with my head?

  If he could make me answer questions when I was determined to keep my mouth shut, what else could he do to my mind? And how could I tell what he’d done already?

  I had been pacing for at least half an hour before I consciously noticed my hands and feet were no longer tied. I looked around the room—no rope. So they hadn’t just worked themselves loose; I’d been deliberately freed.

  Fine. I would go find out what was happening. I reached for the door—and then stopped, my hand half an inch from the doorknob.

  Wait. They probably had Abby. If they did, she was a hostage.

  There might be a time for me to chance an escape attempt or…maybe even an assassination or two. But not yet.

  First, I needed to make them think I wouldn’t do anything without permission as long as they had my daughter.

  It was almost true, too.

  I stared out the glass windows, now open to the daylight. If it hadn’t been for Jerry’s body and the rotting bloodstains…and worse…he’d left on the wall and floor, I’d have wondered if they’d moved me to another room.

  I could see the h
igh school’s front lawn, the highway beyond it, and the houses where Tim, Jerry, and I had watched the school.

  Back when they had been my friends, or I’d thought they were. Back when I’d still hoped Robbie would be here.

  For now, I decided, I would be a model prisoner. Then tonight, when Bob came as I was sure he would…shit. I’d still be a model prisoner, wouldn’t I, with him inside my head and pulling my strings?

  I sat, and paced, and tried to get some more sleep but couldn’t do it. And my mind spun uselessly.

  The day brightened and I saw Captain McDermott come and go outside again, this time with only two companions and one Hummer. They didn’t leave a guard with the truck while they were inside either, which probably meant something.

  I stayed in the room with my dead friend’s body all day long, wishing I could figure out a plan to at least get my daughter out of here.

  If she was here to begin with.

  Eventually, night fell.

  * * *

  “Are we clear?” Eisler asked. But I didn’t answer him.

  He’d taken me on a tour of the high school, talking as we went. There were still zombified people in the cafeteria, but there’d been some sort of shift change: they were mostly people I hadn’t seen before. Other people came and went, moving purposefully.

  I’d seen stores of food and water. Drugs too. I saw Tim once, down a hallway. He’d met my eyes without apology, then turned and walked away.

  Eisler waited for a little while, then threw up his hands and left me under guard.

  I’d heard him, all right. But I didn’t see any point in talking to the dog when the master was near.

  * * *

  “You understand what you are to do?” Bob asked me.

  “Lead expeditions during the day,” I told him. “Generally take care of problems. Work for you.”

  Bob nodded in satisfaction, sitting across from me in what used to be the cafeteria. “You do realize what happens if you refuse, or if you fail to execute my commands?”