Dark Hollows (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 4)

by Scott Langrel

  His luck held, and within two minutes he was inside. He knew that he had to hurry; anyone passing by outside might notice the Harley and become suspicious. Using a small pen light, he navigated the interior of the building until he found what he was searching for. He put the light in his mouth, dug a small bottle from the front pocket of his jeans, and uncapped it.

  A minute later, he was back on the Harley, starting it up. He swung the bike around, its headlight briefly illuminating the cross on the front of the building. He pulled onto the street and accelerated quickly away, his hair in the wind and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  ***

  The creature stepped back and admired its handiwork. It was well pleased with itself, and its mood was lightened by the knowledge that all was going according to plan. Soon, very soon, it would see its dream come to fruition.

  The only annoyance came from the fact that the fear and death would not last much longer. But the creature found solace in the fact that once the obstacle was removed, he and his kind would be free to wreak havoc upon the humans at their leisure. The world was changing, and from the creature’s perspective, it was changing for the better. The time of its kind was at hand; the time of the humans was drawing to a close. So it had been prophesized, and so it would be.

  The creature looked down at the bloody axe it held. Such a silly, useless prop. But appearances needed to be kept up. The superstitious humans would, in their folly, believe a legend before they would believe the truth. And legends had the power to turn simple fear into mindless terror. In that regard, they were useful in their own way.

  From somewhere down the mountain, voices rang out. The others would be coming soon.

  Moving with a silence that belied its massive form, the creature slipped into the thick shadows of the trees.

  And waited.

  Chapter Seven

  “That’s it,” McCoy said after eight slices of pizza. “I’m done. One more slice and I’ll burst.”

  “I thought you were a growing boy?” Pru teased.

  “I am growing. But the only part that grows anymore is my belly, and I’d just as soon keep that part of me in check.”

  “It’s too bad Amanda couldn’t come,” Becky Pridemore said. “How is she doing?”

  “She’s fine,” McCoy answered. “She’s been taking classes, and she’s been promoted at the law firm. Unfortunately, work seems to take up more of her time nowadays.”

  “I know the feeling,” Becky said as she looked wistfully at Pru. “It’s been all I can do to keep from taking a second job. Prices keep going up, but my pay stays the same.”

  “We’re doing okay, Mom,” Pru said, and reached to grasp her mother’s hand.

  “You bet we are, honey. Finn, have you heard from Nan Roberts lately?”

  “We keep in touch by phone and on the Internet,” McCoy said. “She’s doing well. How about your sister?”

  Becky took a drink of soda and her eyes fell to the table. “It’s been pretty rough on her, losing Paul and everything. I talk to her every few days, and I can hear the loneliness in her voice. She’s begged me and Pru to move down and stay with her. I can’t say that I haven’t considered it. It would be a lot easier on us financially. But Pru’s school is here, and all of her friends. I can’t ask her to just up and move away.”

  “If it came to it, I’d go,” Pru said gently. “But we’re doing okay here, aren’t we?”

  “For now. Yeah, we’re doing okay.”

  “She should hang out with Nan,” McCoy offered. “I know they speak occasionally, but I think Nan keeps her distance because she’s afraid of dredging up the past. It would do them both some good.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Becky said, smiling. “I’ll bring it up when I talk to Karen next.”

  “So, Mom. I was thinking of giving McCoy a tour of the town. You know, show him the sights.’

  “In Patton’s Point?” Becky laughed. “That ought to take all of five minutes.”

  “You know what I mean,” Pru said dryly. “He’s never been here before. I want to show him around.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until tomorrow?” Becky frowned. “It’s getting dark outside.”

  “Mom. McCoy’s a paranormal handler. What better time than at night? That’s when all the ghosts and ghoulies are out.”

  Becky’s frown deepened. “Why do I get the feeling you two are up to something?” She glanced at McCoy, who appeared to be looking for a rock to crawl under.

  “It’s nothing,” Pru insisted. “Just a drive. I promise we’ll be back by nine-thirty. And who would I be safer with?”

  Becky gave her daughter a look of scrutiny, but Pru kept her poker face on. After a few seconds, Becky relented.

  “Okay. But no more than an hour, do you hear me?” She turned to McCoy. “Finn, don’t let her drag you into anything. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s very persuasive.”

  “Oh. Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

  “I’ll help with the dinner plates before we go,” Pru offered.

  “That’s okay. You two go on. And remember, one hour. Though I don’t know what you’ll find around here to interest you for that long.”

  “You ready, McCoy?” Pru asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.” He followed Pru through the door and down the walkway to the Jeep.

  “That was close,” Pru said when she was certain they were out of earshot. “For a second there, I thought we were busted for sure.”

  “What’s with this we stuff?” McCoy asked gruffly. “I don’t like hiding things from your mother. If she finds out where we’re going, we’ll both be on the next episode of Ghost Seekers. As ghosts.”

  “You worry a lot for an old guy,” Pru said as she pulled herself into the passenger seat.

  “That’s how I got to be an old guy. Put your seat belt on.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  McCoy pulled away from the curb and followed Pru’s directions to the edge of town.

  Neither noticed the single headlight that followed them, discreetly, as they drove toward the trestle.

  ***

  “It’s getting too dark,” Claire complained. “If we don’t turn back now, we’ll never find our way back to camp.”

  “Relax,” Caleb said. “I had the foresight to bring a flashlight.” He reached into the pocket of his cargo pants. “See?”

  “Well, turn it on,” Claire whined. “I can’t see, and I don’t like this.”

  Caleb switched the light on and swung it around in a wide arc. They were maybe halfway up to the summit, and there had yet to be any sign of the missing men. The girls were beginning to get skittish, and this served only to annoy Caleb even more.

  “If and when we find those jerk-offs, I’m going to fire them on the spot. We’ve got too much riding on this project to screw it up now.”

  “You can’t fire them,” Claire said. “We need them to finish the filming. Who’s going to lug the equipment back and forth? You?”

  “I will if I have to,” Caleb said with a hint of indignation. “Don’t you think I could do it? Besides, you and Erica are still here.”

  “Erica and I can’t carry the heavy stuff,” Claire protested. She looked around, frightened and frustrated. “Where could those two have gone off to? I don’t like this, Caleb. What if whoever killed Randy came back? What if there’s a whole gang of them, and now they’ve killed Trevor and Mark, too?”

  “Trevor and Mark can take care of themselves,” Caleb said dismissively. “And Mark has a gun. He showed it to me last night, after the police left.”

  “That’s another thing,” Claire said. “How did you get the police to let us keep filming? I thought for sure they were going to run us off.”

  “I have connections,” Caleb said cryptically. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “I’d feel a lot safer if the police were here now,” Erica said. “Shouldn’t we just go back to camp and call them? They’d be better equipped to
find Mark and Trevor than we are.”

  “And take a chance of getting shut down after all?” Caleb gave a grim laugh. “Not on your life, Missy.”

  “But you said you have connections…”

  “And I do. But I’d rather not push my luck. We’ll find them. They’re probably heading back down now. Chances are we’ll run into them any minute now.”

  Huddled in a tight group, they continued up the path. In the darkness around them, small animals scurried through the brush as they went about their nightly business of foraging for food and trying not to get eaten. Once, something large broke cover and bolted down the mountainside just ahead of them. Caleb surmised that it must have been a deer, but the women looked unconvinced.

  “Maybe we missed them,” Claire said. “They might have found another way back to camp. They could be there now, wondering where we are.”

  “Let’s go just a little farther,” Caleb said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. “If we haven’t found them in a few minutes, we’ll turn back.”

  “Owww!” Erica cried suddenly, causing Claire to squeal in surprise. Caleb, who had been in the lead, turned and swung the flashlight’s beam wildly.

  “What? What is it?” he cried.

  “My ankle,” Erica sobbed as she sat on the forest floor. “I twisted it on that rock. God, I think it’s broken.”

  “It’s probably just a sprain,” Caleb said, relieved that they weren’t being attacked by a band of crazed inbreeds. “Here, let me look at it.”

  “It’s already starting to swell,” Erica moaned. She rubbed her ankle gingerly, crying in the way a woman cries when she’s more frustrated than hurt.

  “Do you think you can walk back?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t know. I can try, I just want out of here.”

  “I don’t think it’s broken,” Caleb said as he inspected the affected joint. “With Claire and I on either side of you, we should be able to make it back to base camp without much of a problem.”

  “Well, we’d better hurry,” Claire said irritably. “It’s starting to rain.”

  “What are you talking about?” Caleb asked, still studying Erica’s ankle. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  “Whatever. I just felt a raindrop. Oh! There’s another.”

  “I’m telling you—” Caleb stopped in mid-sentence as he swung the light on Claire. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “What have you done?”

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked, puzzled.

  Erica took her eyes off of her injured ankle long enough to glance at Claire. She screamed.

  “What?” Claire demanded, obviously unnerved.

  “You’re bleeding!” Caleb shouted.

  Claire looked down at her bare shoulder, which was streaked with red. Small rivulets of what appeared to be blood ran down her arm. She began to wipe frantically at it with her bare hand.

  “I thought it was rain!” she shrieked. As she tried to wipe the blood away, a fresh drop fell onto her hand. She screamed and ran over to Caleb and Erica.

  Slowly, Caleb turned the light upward. About thirty feet up, his broken body wedged between two tree limbs, Trevor’s lifeless eyes gazed down upon them.

  They all began to scream then.

  ***

  “There’s the road,” Pru said, pointing to a dirt lane which pulled off of the main road. “It only goes back a little ways, then you have to walk.”

  “We’re not walking anywhere,” McCoy said. “I’m keeping that much of the promise, anyway. We’ll drive to the end of the road and see if we sense anything nearby.”

  “But you can’t see the trestle good unless you walk up the ridge,” Pru protested.

  “We’ll see it tomorrow, in the daylight. Right now, I just want to get a feel of the place.”

  “Suit yourself, but there won’t be much to see.”

  As it turned out, Pru was wrong. The dirt road petered out into a small field. Several tents were set up, and lights were powered by a gently humming generator. There were a couple of folding tables set together, upon which rested a vast array of cameras and other recording equipment.

  “Looks like the film crew didn’t skedaddle after all,” McCoy remarked as he slipped the Jeep into park.

  “It looks deserted,” Pru said. “I wonder where everyone is?”

  “Maybe they’re up at the trestle doing a night investigation,” McCoy said in his spookiest voice.

  Pru frowned. “I would’ve thought the sheriff would have shut them down. To tell the truth, I’m surprised they don’t have this place blocked off.”

  “So you let me drive out here thinking we wouldn’t even be able to get in?” McCoy asked.

  “Kinda. But you wanted to come.”

  “Thanks for humoring me.”

  From somewhere up on the side of the mountain, people began to scream.

  “Ah, shit,” McCoy mumbled. He hopped out of the Jeep and pulled his nine millimeter from under his shirt. “Stay here in the vehicle.”

  “Like hell I will,” Pru said, already climbing out.

  McCoy looked in the direction of the screams and then back at Pru.

  “Shit,” he said again.

  Chapter Eight

  The man on the motorcycle pulled to the side of the road and shut off the bike. Annoyed, he turned and looked up and down the deserted stretch of blacktop.

  He’d lost them.

  With traffic virtually nonexistent, he’d been afraid to follow too closely. At first, it hadn’t been a problem since the road was relatively straight and flat. But then the road had wound into a series of curves and he’d lost sight of the Jeep’s taillights. By the time he’d made it through the curves, the girl and the man were nowhere to be seen.

  The only turn off he’d seen had been a dirt road about a quarter of a mile back. He had actually slowed and considered the rutted lane, but had ultimately decided against it. The Harley wasn’t built for off-roading, and he’d figured that chances were the Jeep hadn’t cut off, anyway. Now, he was beginning to rethink that decision.

  He was pretty sure the man driving the Jeep was the same one from his visions. Back at the girl’s house, he hadn’t been close enough to make out the man’s face, but the straw cowboy hat was a dead giveaway. He didn’t know what role the man in the hat played in all of this, but it really didn’t matter. His only concern was the girl.

  He began to wonder if he hadn’t made a mistake by not contacting the girl as soon as he’d arrived. At the time, it had seemed wiser not to rush things. He couldn’t very well just walk up to the front door, introduce himself, and tell the girl and her mother why he was there. The men in the white suits would have come pulling up in no time flat. And he couldn’t complete his mission if he were locked in a rubber room, wearing a dinner jacket that tied in the back.

  At least the girl wasn’t with a total stranger; it was obvious that the two knew each other and shared some sort of relationship. Maybe the guy was a relative, possibly even her father. He was about the right age—mid to late forties. But the man in his visions didn’t share any physical similarities with the girl. And what in the hell were they doing out here at night?

  If he didn’t find them, he might never know. He was just about to fire the bike up when he heard something. It was faint, but it sounded like someone screaming. He turned his head, straining his ears. There, again. It was coming from behind him and to his right.

  He should have taken the dirt road.

  He started the motorcycle, made a quick u-turn, and sped back toward the turn off.

  ***

  “I can’t see a thing,” Pru said as she followed the path right on McCoy’s heels. “Didn’t you think to bring a flashlight?”

  “The flashlight’s still in Boo’s glove box,” McCoy huffed. “I didn’t think to put it in the Jeep before I left.”

  “Then I hope your eyesight’s better than mine.”

  They were ascending as fast as they could, which wasn’t very fast. Th
e trail was steep and rocky, and littered with fallen trees which, in the dark, slowed their progress to a crawl. Above them, the screaming had quieted, though the sound of brush rustling drifted down the slope.

  “Stay behind me, and stay close,” McCoy hissed. “Someone or something’s coming down the trail. We won’t know who or what until they’re right on us.”

  “I caught a whiff of something, but it’s faint,” Pru said. “I don’t sense anything close.”

  “Stay alert anyway. I’ve seen higher demons camouflage their auras.”

  “That’s a comforting thought.”

  McCoy eased over a fallen tree and stopped to listen. Something was definitely advancing toward them, and it was coming in at Mach 3. From the sound of it, it was probably a person—maybe more than one. That probability did little to ease his apprehension, however. A person could be just as dangerous as an otherworldly entity, especially if that person was terrified and possibly armed.

  He turned and motioned Pru off to the side of the path. If they were standing in the way when whatever it was came through, they would most likely be bowled over.

  “Keep quiet and stay still,” he whispered. “I want to get a good look at them before they see us.”

  “Shouldn’t we keep going?” Pru asked.

  McCoy shook his head. Had he been alone, he probably would have rushed headlong into the situation, mindless of the consequences. He’d heard screams and knew that someone was in trouble, and that was all the justification he needed.

  But he wasn’t alone. Pru had abilities, and she was certainly not short on courage. But she was a child, nonetheless. She lacked the experience that came with age, and experience was what tended to keep one alive if one were to go about chasing things that go bump in the night. Though he wanted to rush ahead and help whoever was up there, he would not risk Pru’s safety. Pru was probably the closest thing he would ever have to a daughter, and he was determined to keep her safe.