Valley of the Shadow

by Pawlik, Tom

  Room 427 was darkened. The shades were drawn so only thin stripes of sunlight streamed through the blinds. Conner could see a long, thin mass beneath a linen sheet. He took another step into the room where Howard Bristol lay obscured in shadows.

  Conner’s heart was pounding now. Thumping hard against his ribs. He took a few deep breaths, tried to calm his thoughts, and moved in for a better view.

  He could barely recognize the old man lying in the bed. Wisps of white hair lay in unruly tufts across his pale, spotted scalp. The color around his eye sockets was a sickly mix of purple and yellow. A feeding tube ran into one nostril, and his toothless mouth hung open, sucking in air with shallow breaths. The skin of his face hung in loose folds at the corners of his mouth and around his jowls, like a deflated balloon covered with several days’ growth of gray stubble.

  Conner caught the whiff of death in the room. A slightly septic odor, thinly veiled by a forest pine air freshener hanging from an overhead light. A few potted plants were set near the window. Probably left there by Mrs. Bristol or some other friend.

  Conner shook his head. He’d half expected the room to be shrouded by an enormous shadow of pure evil. But instead, all he saw was an emaciated old man.

  A soft rustling sound behind him caused Conner to spin around. A hunched, impish figure stood in the doorway. An elderly woman with a tight mouth and a long, hawkish nose. Her silvery hair was pulled back in a bun with a few haphazard strands hanging in her face. Her eyes were large and brown, gazing at Conner from behind wire-rimmed spectacles. They seemed to flare with emotion for a moment. A flash of anger.

  She took a step forward and wagged a thin forefinger at Conner.

  “I know who you are.”

  41

  MITCH AND NATHAN made their way back down the path through the fog. Nathan moved deftly along the jagged slope to the road, even though Mitch struggled at times to keep up.

  Something was confusing him. By his reckoning, it should be the middle of the night, yet the fog around him was still lit up brightly. Eventually they emerged from the clouds onto the road, where the Ferrari was parked with his motorcycle beside it.

  Mitch stopped to catch his breath. “What time is it? It can’t be morning already. There’s no way we were up there all night.”

  Nathan glanced over his shoulder. “Day and night don’t exactly work the same here, Mitch.”

  “So what now? Don’t we get a chance to sleep?”

  “I don’t think you’ll need it for a while.”

  “What?” Mitch realized that he wasn’t actually tired. In fact, at the moment, he felt wide-awake. As if he were on a caffeine rush or something. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the experience he’d had at the top of the mountain. But he figured that would wear off soon enough.

  Nathan wiggled his fingers. “We just got an infusion of life. That’ll keep us going for a while longer.”

  Mitch thought about the spirit that had touched them. Maybe some sort of spiritual energy had been transferred. Could that be what was coursing through him right now?

  He shrugged. And why not. He remembered hearing once that in heaven there was no day or night. No need to sleep. Probably no need to eat. Those were physical requirements, after all. Needs of the flesh. Their bodies needed fuel and sleep, but not their spirits. Now devoid of the body, did they need any sleep at all?

  For five years, he’d been sleeping at night, though never feeling very well rested. He’d been eating and drinking but never felt satisfied. But if he was just a spirit—a ghost—then what explained the fact that he had gotten tired and hungry? And why was he almost always thirsty?

  Maybe that was a side effect of being down below the clouds. Down in the valley. Or maybe it had something to do with what Nathan had said. That those spirits up above were different. They had been changed. Nathan had said that God had made them new. And now they were free from all of the negative influences that once plagued them. Free from all hate and envy and…

  And sin.

  But all the souls here below were still trapped. Maybe their bodies hadn’t passed away completely, but their spirits were essentially dead. And now they were suffering from the same weaknesses they’d had in life. Or worse.

  Mitch swung a leg over his bike. “So what’s the plan? Where do we go from here?”

  “West.” Nathan pointed off toward the distance. “You remember where we saw those spirits coming from?”

  “Sort of, yeah.”

  “That’s where we need to be. Every time a spirit passes through this place into heaven, a doorway opens up.”

  “A doorway?”

  “Yeah, like a portal. From the physical world. That’s how we get you back into your body. When a portal opens up to let some spirit through, you jump into it.”

  Mitch laughed. “Dude. That’s your plan? You dragged me off the farm for that?”

  “So it sounds a little crazy,” Nathan said. “It’s your only chance. Besides, I don’t think you really want to go back, do you?”

  Mitch considered that option, but the thought of returning to Howard’s farm was definitely out of the question.

  They drove down from the foothills onto the highway. Mitch followed Nathan’s Ferrari through the endless, flat desert peppered with sagebrush as far as the eye could see. Along with an occasional gnarled cactus.

  They drove for what felt like hours until they arrived at an abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere. Mitch filled up, not surprised to find that the antique-looking pumps still worked. It was just one of those things he’d come to accept.

  Besides, his mind had been working on the idea of this doorway at the edge of the world. What was it like? How did it work? And what exactly would happen to him once he jumped through?

  Nathan could only offer a shrug when Mitch asked him. “Not sure what’s going to happen to you. I assume you’ll wind up back inside your body, but there’s still no guarantee you’ll come out of your coma. This is all pretty new to me, too.”

  “New?” Mitch frowned. “But I thought you were like, y’know… an angel or something.”

  “Angel?” Nathan laughed. “I’m no angel. That’s for sure.”

  “Well . . .” Mitch felt a slight prickle of embarrassment. He had just assumed the guy was some kind of angel. Or something like that. A leprechaun or a magic elf. He seemed to have so much knowledge of everything. “All right, then, exactly what are you?”

  “Just a guy, like you. I was in an accident, like you were. And they have my body on life support. So in a way, I’m stuck here too. Just like you.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Don’t know for sure. I lost track. Seems like it’s been a while.”

  Mitch’s frown deepened and he folded his arms. “So how is it you know so much about this place, then? What’s up with that?”

  “Like I said, I was in an accident. Lost control of my vehicle one night and went off the road. I hit a tree and went through the windshield. The next thing I know, I could feel myself floating, away from the crash site and out into space. Then I started to accelerate faster and faster. And when I looked up again, I saw that vortex opening right there in front of me.” Nathan stared at the clouds for a moment and sighed. “But then something else happened to me and I started to slow down. I felt myself growing heavier and heavier. I knew they were doing something to me. I could feel them. Working on my body. Trying to revive me. But instead of going all the way back, I suddenly felt myself sinking. And I couldn’t do anything about it. I was falling. I fell through those clouds and sort of crashed in the mountains.”

  “Crashed, huh?” Mitch narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t think that could happen. I thought this place was only for us sinners.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think it’s ever happened before. Or at least not very often. But right after I landed in the mountains, I heard God speaking to me. He said He had a job for me to do here and that’s why He didn’t
let me go back.”

  “A job?” Mitch recalled what Nathan had told him in the bookstore when they had first met. That God had sent him.

  “Yeah. To help you get back.”

  “You’re telling me God sent you here just to help me get back into my body?”

  “That’s what I told you before.”

  “I didn’t believe you before,” Mitch said. “What does God want with me?”

  “I figure He wants to give you a second chance.”

  “To do what?”

  “Mitch—” Nathan smiled—“a second chance at life. A chance to break away from the consequences of your past and change the direction your life is headed. To follow a new course.”

  Mitch’s lips tightened. Exactly how much had God revealed to this guy about him? Mitch had managed to keep most of those dark memories boxed up. Locked away, out of mind. But they would sometimes try to haunt him. At night, they would burst into his dreams like uninvited guests. And he would see his mother again—emaciated, pallid, and suffering. He would feel her again, struggling under the pillow. Struggling against him.

  But then he would wake up in a cold sweat and lock those memories away. Back inside. Deep inside.

  “What do you know about my life? What makes you such an expert?”

  Nathan removed the blue stick of chalk from his coat pocket.

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s right. The magic chalk.”

  Nathan smiled. “Yep. The magic chalk.” Then he looked at his watch. “I think we can spare a few minutes. Why don’t you let me show you something?”

  They went inside the abandoned gas station. Mitch could smell the musty odor of old wood inside the cramped shop. It reminded him of his grandfather’s attic. After countless years of exposure, sand had encrusted the windows, blown in through the broken glass, and dusted the buckled and uneven floorboards. On the walls hung a few rusted tools, a couple of fan belts, some cans of oil, and an assortment of other antique automotive supplies. The place reminded Mitch of something from the Depression era. Out in the dust bowl of Oklahoma.

  Nathan found a clear spot along one of the walls and drew another circle. After a few moments, the chalk line began to smoke as it had before inside the bookstore, the first time Mitch had seen this trick. Nathan punched away the plaster to reveal another shimmering, quivering, luminous window.

  Mitch slipped his sunglasses on and looked inside. A moment later, his eyes widened and he shook his head.

  “That’s . . . that’s not what I think it is…. Is it?”

  42

  CONNER STARED AT THE OLD WOMAN, his mouth open. How would she know who he was? What kind of creepy woman was this? some kind of psychic or a witch? Had she managed to get in contact with her husband while he was in a coma?

  She walked into the room still wagging her finger. “I know exactly who you are.”

  “Y-you do?”

  “You’re that psychiatrist my doctor was talking about. Gonna try to talk me into removing that feeding tube.”

  Conner relaxed. Maybe she was a little nuts, but she didn’t appear to be clairvoyant. “Uhh… ma’am—”

  “Well let me tell you something, mister doctor, I am not gonna do it. You hear me? So you can just get right out of this room. I only want positive thoughts in here. Positive energy. Because my Howard is getting better. Stronger every day. And you’ll see. One day soon, he’s gonna wake up again. Right as rain!”

  Conner smiled and held up his hands. “Mrs. Bristol, I’m not . . . I’m not a doctor. I don’t want to convince you to do anything. I just…” Conner paused. What kind of excuse would he use now? He could try telling her the truth: that her husband was really trapped in a ghostly Interworld, perched on the brink of hell and working in concert with the powers of darkness. Right. “I just… stopped by for a visit. I wanted to stop in and say hello.”

  Mrs. Bristol stopped jabbering and narrowed her eyes. Her finger froze midwag as she stared at him. “Do I know you?”

  “Uhh . . . no, no but I knew your—know your husband, Howard. Know of him, I mean.”

  Mrs. Bristol’s forehead wrinkled further as her brows came together. “Know of him? What do you mean?”

  Conner’s mind raced. He was slipping back into his former mold. “I—I mean, my father knew him. Knew him from way back. Went to school together… uhh, I think. And I wanted to come down and see him. Just maybe say hello is all.”

  Mrs. Bristol’s eyes seemed to light up. “Oh… are you Stewart’s boy? Felix? From Minneapolis?”

  Conner froze, cursing himself silently. How had he gotten himself in this situation again? And how should he answer this one?

  “Yyyyes.” His head came down in a hesitant nod. “Yes . . . I am.”

  And he immediately knew he’d made a mistake. Again.

  Mrs. Bristol patted his arm. “Ohhh . . . it’s so nice to see you. Why, the last time I saw you, you were just a child. That must be more than thirty years ago now. How is your father doing?”

  Conner nodded again. His eyes like a deer’s in the glare of oncoming headlights. “Oh . . . fine. He’s doing fine.”

  She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “But I’m sure he misses your mother these days.”

  “Yes . . . well, it… it was a big loss for him. But at least he still has us—me. And we’re helping him through… this difficult… adjust… ment . . .” Conner knew instantly something had gone wrong.

  Mrs. Bristol’s face was white. Her eyes grew wide and moist. “Oh, dear!” She gasped, her hand over her mouth. “She passed away? Oh, my dear, when did that happen? It wasn’t during her trip, was it? Please tell me she didn’t pass away in Norway.”

  Conner could only offer up a blank stare. Moments creaked by. “Oh . . . you meant my mother. I… I thought you said… y’know . . . his mother.”

  Mrs. Bristol stared back at him. Her brow was furrowed again. Then her eyes rolled up. “Felix! You just don’t change, do you?” She slapped his arm and laughed. “Oh, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You wicked boy! You haven’t changed at all.”

  Conner swallowed and did his best to laugh as well. “Uh . . . well, I’m sorry, Mrs. Bristol.… I didn’t mean to… I . . . I didn’t mean to be disrespectful… here.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue she had produced from somewhere. “Here is where it does the most good, dear. Laughter is strong medicine, you know.”

  Conner breathed a sigh. He’d dodged one bullet. “Yes. Yes it is.”

  Mrs. Bristol took his arm and drew him up to the bedside. She patted down Howard’s hair and left her hand to linger on his forehead. “Howard, dear. Guess who’s here? It’s Felix Grady. You remember? Stewart’s boy.” She glanced at Conner. “Say hello, Felix.”

  Conner hesitated until Mrs. Bristol shook his arm. “Go on.”

  Conner bent stiffly and mumbled, “Uhh . . . hello, H-How… Mr. Bristol.”

  Mrs. Bristol went on talking. “He played the cruelest prank on me. Just cruel. Tried to tell me Anna had passed away on her trip. You remember she was going back to visit her mother’s hometown in Norway.”

  Mrs. Bristol went on talking like that for several minutes. Her hand clutched Conner’s arm so tightly he could not manage to back away. Every so often, she’d have him say something to Howard as well.

  After what felt like a half hour, Conner managed to extricate himself from her grip with the excuse of having to use the bathroom. Which wasn’t untrue at all.

  As he washed his hands in the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror and sighed. What was he doing? Why was he here? He’d come all this way because of a dream and he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

  Conner knew he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. He racked his brain for an excuse to leave. Mrs. Bristol would no doubt invite him for dinner. After so many years, she’d never let “Felix” leave without a good home-cooked meal. But he couldn’t do that. That would be far too risky. Maybe he c
ould say he was on a business trip and he could stay only a few minutes. He had to drive to… Ohio… and he had to get there by suppertime. That was it.

  Although, an invitation for lunch could be the perfect opportunity to see the farm. But once there, how would he manage to sneak off and look around?

  He shuddered as he recalled his nightmare and Howard’s zombielike presence. He closed his eyes. Maybe God would present the next step when it was time to take it.

  Conner came out of the bathroom to find Mrs. Bristol waiting for him, clutching her purse. She looked as if she was ready to leave.

  “Now, Felix,” she said, “you do have time to stay for a visit, don’t you.”

  Conner shook his head. “Oh . . . I’m real sorry. But I’ve got this… I’m going for a job interview in Columbus, and I need to get down there today. So I really have to get going.”

  “Job interview? On a weekend?”

  “Well, no. I’m . . . I wanted to drive around and get to know the community a little bit tomorrow. The interview itself is on Monday morning. Bright and earl—”

  “Oh, good! Then you have some time,” she said.

  Conner rubbed his eyes. He was getting nowhere with this woman. “Mrs. Bristol, I’d love to visit—I really would—but I don’t have—”

  “Just stay for some lunch, then.”

  Conner was feeling faint. Something inside him was pounding. Get out of here. Just make an excuse and leave! You’re good at excuses. Make one and leave.

  She pulled him by the arm, out into the corridor, still talking away. Something about Columbus and how it was only a few hours from there—much closer than Minneapolis. And now he wouldn’t have any excuses for not coming to visit. That is, if he got the job, of course. And by the way, what kind of job was it?

  Conner groaned inwardly. This wasn’t a good idea. He knew it. But there was also a part of him—like a gentle voice—that prodded him onward. Telling him to stay the course and see the farm for himself. As if all his nightmares for the last two months had led him here and he knew he couldn’t go home without at least seeing the place.