Valley of the Shadow

by Pawlik, Tom

  Devon could not speak but managed a stiff nod.

  Pale Man smiled, showing a mouthful of brown teeth. “Well, that’s just super! Now, like I’ve told you before, I have some other commitments tonight, so let’s get this over with and I’ll get out of your hair. So to speak.”

  Devon crawled on his hands and knees around to the back of the house. The kitchen area was dark but it looked like there was a light on in the front room. Devon crept up to the glass door.

  It clicked and opened.

  Devon’s heart was pounding but he felt like a man completely tied up. He was out of options and at the mercy of a power he couldn’t fight. A power with absolutely no mercy. Pale Man would certainly turn him over to Karenga if he didn’t comply. He’d probably do it anyway. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness struck him at that moment. Nothing good was going to come out of this night. Nothing.

  “Kill the wife and daughter,” Pale Man said, stepping back from the door. “Make it quick and get out.”

  “Aren’t you coming in with me?”

  “It’s complicated—a jurisdictional thing. You’re on your own here, chief. But I’ll be waiting right outside.”

  Devon slipped inside the house. He’d taken off his shoes so as to move without noise. He found himself inside a large kitchen. A hallway straight ahead ran all the way to the front entrance; then a living room was off to the right.

  “Hurry it up,” Pale Man whispered.

  Devon heard the sounds of a television in the living room. He slipped through the kitchen and down the hall. In the living room, on the couch, sat two women. They were engrossed in some cable news program.

  Devon could kill them both from his vantage point in the hall. They hadn’t seen him. They were completely unaware. Devon looked back into the kitchen. Pale Man stood outside the glass door, watching. Eyes glowing. He made a gun with his fingers and thumb and mimed the act, mouthing the words Boom! Boom!

  Devon nodded and took aim.

  68

  CONNER FOUND HIMSELF LOST in darkness. Far off he could hear muddled sounds. He couldn’t make out what they were. But they seemed to be coming closer.

  He heard footsteps and soft whimpering.

  He groaned and tried to lift his head. New shards of pain stabbed his neck and shoulders. Wincing, he opened his eyes and saw a blur of light and shadows. Something—or someone—was moving in front of him. Slowly everything came into focus.

  He was still in the cabin. A lantern sat on the table beside him. He couldn’t move his arms or legs. As he looked around, he could see he was strapped to a wooden chair. Coils of rope wrapped tightly around his chest and arms. His hands were bound behind him. His feet were immobilized as well.

  Conner could see someone beside him. One of the girls was tied up like he was. Her head hung down, hair covering her face, and she was whimpering.

  Conner’s jaw was throbbing; he could feel that one of his back teeth was loose and could taste his own blood. “Hey, are… are you okay?”

  She lifted her head. It was Katie. Her blue eyes were wide and fearful still. “We’re going to die.”

  Conner craned his neck but he couldn’t see any sign of the other girl. “Where’s Amber?”

  Katie only shook her head.

  A voice came from behind him. “She managed to get away. But we’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

  “You?” Conner strained to look behind him. “You knew about this?”

  Mrs. Bristol stepped into view, smiling. “Owen’s out looking for her now.”

  “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

  Mrs. Bristol drew up a third chair and sat down. She wore a wool coat, trousers, and galoshes with a scarf over her head. She smiled at him, looking like someone’s grandmother. “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Hayden. I can see you judging me with your eyes. You’re thinking I’m some kind of monster.”

  “You’re crazy. Why would you do this?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “People know I’m here. They’ll call the police.”

  Mrs. Bristol nodded. “In fact, you were here. You came under false pretenses and we asked you to leave.” She shrugged. “And we never saw you again.”

  “What?” Conner couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Who were these people? What kind of family was this? “They’ll search the premises. They’ll find this cabin. They’ll find the room down there. They’ll find out what you’ve done.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But that won’t save you now, will it?”

  Katie spit at the old woman and hurled a stream of curses at her.

  Mrs. Bristol’s eyes flared with anger. “You see?” She wagged her finger at Katie. “You see there? This is why you’re here. You beast. You selfish, spoiled, worthless beast. This is why you’re here.”

  Conner wrinkled his forehead. “What are you talking about? What did she do to you?”

  At that point, Conner heard footsteps approaching, onto the porch. The door opened and Owen entered, muttering to himself. He glared at Conner as he entered, then back at his mother.

  Mrs. Bristol seemed to look past him out the door. “You didn’t find her?”

  “I don’t know what direction she went.”

  “We can’t let her get to a phone.”

  “I know, Mom; I know.”

  Mrs. Bristol glanced at her watch and shook her head. “She can’t have got far.”

  Owen paced around the cabin. “She could wander through these woods for hours and not find her way out.”

  Conner could sense Mrs. Bristol’s concern now. He breathed a sigh. If Amber was able to find her way back to the road, she might be able to wave down a passing car or something. She’d call the police. That was clearly something these people needed to avoid.

  He managed a grim smile. “Looks like things aren’t going quite like you planned, eh?”

  Owen leaned into Conner’s face. His yellow teeth clenched and his eyes seemed to bore right through Conner. “I’m gonna kill you nice and slow. And I’m gonna enjoy it, too. Every minute of it!”

  Conner tried to back away. Fear gave way to anger and a rush of adrenaline. “I believe it, big guy. And the cops will put you away for life. Or, come to think of it, doesn’t Indiana have the death penalty?”

  Owen cursed him again and straightened up. “Let’s just kill ’em now and I’ll go find her.”

  Mrs. Bristol checked her watch again. “We’ll wait until he gets here.”

  Conner turned to her. “You’re meeting someone else here? Who?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until he gets here.”

  69

  THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN into Mitch’s father’s study, revealing two walls covered with bookshelves and a massive desk of burnished oak. Mitch pushed the door a little farther to find a figure in dress slacks and a sweater, standing with his back toward Mitch, reading a book.

  Mitch’s throat was still dry. “Dad?”

  Walter Kent turned. His eyes narrowed for a moment; then his shoulders seemed to slump a bit and he sighed, as if seeing Mitch was some sort of disappointment.

  Memories flooded back to Mitch at that sight. This was the day Mitch had left home. He’d moved his things out earlier and then had come for one final confrontation with his father before leaving for good. Mitch could recall every detail of that day. Every nuance. He had relished the memory. It had brought a sort of joy to finally have it out with the man. To release all the hate and anger in one torrential rush.

  His father snorted. “So this is it, huh? You’re leaving?”

  “Just wanted to, y’know, say good-bye.” Mitch found himself back in his memory, speaking the same words he’d said on that day. He couldn’t help reliving, reenacting, the moment. He had savored it so much. He couldn’t resist the urge.

  “Right.” His father shook his head. “Well then, no need to drag it out.”

  “Oh no, Dad,” Mitch said, smiling. “I wanted to take my time with this. I�
�ve been thinking about it for quite a while—planning out exactly what I wanted to say to you.”

  His father just rolled his eyes, but Mitch knew better. He knew his father’s ego. The tremendous sense of disappointment with his son. Everything he’d ever done for Mitch, he’d done to keep Mitch from being an embarrassment. It was always, always about the congressman.

  So that had become Mitch’s sole motivation in life: to embarrass his old man.

  Every fight, every disciplinary incident at school, every speeding ticket, every drunken or drug-induced exhibition, every sexual escapade. Everything. Mitch wanted to be nothing but a public embarrassment to Congressman Walter Kent.

  Mitch would not be deterred. “I know you’re trying to pretend you don’t care anymore. Or that you’ve given up. I bet you’ve even convinced yourself that you actually cared about me at some point in your life.”

  “You think too highly of yourself, Mitch,” his father said through tight lips. “I have given up on you. I have done everything I could to help you. You had every opportunity in the world, but you just frittered it all away. So I’m done. You’re eighteen. You’re on your own. I’m through with you. Have a nice life.”

  Mitch moved farther into the room. “Everything you ever did for me was ultimately about you. My whole life revolved around improving your image as a politician. If you could’ve gotten away with trading me in for some other kid, I have no doubt you would’ve done that.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” His father shrugged, not looking up from his book. “Maybe I could’ve found one who knew how to show a little appreciation.”

  “For what? For turning him into a stage prop?”

  His father seemed to ignore that comment. “You know, in a way, I’m glad you’re leaving. I was starting to worry that maybe you’d try to kill me in my sleep too.”

  Mitch laughed. He remembered laughing even though that comment had physically stung in his chest. But he knew he couldn’t let on. “You have no idea how bad I was tempted. I mean… just to put you out of my misery.” He went on, not wanting to leave his father any further room for comment. “Because some people make the world a better place with their lives and others with their deaths. And you? You’re just a waste of oxygen. The world will be a much better place after you’re dead.”

  His father’s eyes widened momentarily; then he burst out laughing. “That the best you got? You took all that time to think of something to throw at me and that’s all you could come up with? A waste of oxygen?”

  Mitch smiled. He had something better. “I just can’t figure out why I’ve been such a disappointment. I’ve turned out to be so much like you.”

  Mitch could see his father’s jaw tense. But the congressman only shook his head. “Right. That’s lame too, kid.”

  “No, think about it. That’s how I’ve lived my life. I ask myself, what would Congressman Kent do? You know? The apple never falls too far from the tree, does it, Dad?”

  “You’re lazy. You have no ambition in life. Zero.” His father snorted as if in disgust. “You’re nothing like me, Son.”

  “No?” Mitch moved closer, trying to get into his old man’s space. “Think about it. I’m abusive, arrogant, selfish, ungrateful, and narcissistic. Dude—I’m your clone!”

  His father snapped the book closed. His eyes flared. Mitch knew he’d struck a nerve. Maybe the nerve. “You forgot one thing,” his father said through clenched teeth. He pointed a trembling finger into Mitch’s face. “You’re a murderer. Now there’s something you didn’t get from me. All I did was try to cover for you. To keep that stigma from following you the rest of your life! I did it to give you a chance!”

  “Give me a chance?” Mitch leaned in close to his father’s face. He was no longer a child. Now he stood toe-to-toe with the man. Eye-to-eye. His lips peeled back. “You did it to save yourself from embarrassment. That was the only reason. It would have cost you the election. You didn’t care about justice or me or Mom. You never did. It was always only ever about you!”

  At that the house shuddered. Somewhere outside a terrifying but familiar sound thundered. It was deep and hideous, and Mitch recognized it immediately. He blinked as if waking up from a dream. He stood alone now in his father’s study. Daylight was no longer shining through the windows. Outside was only darkness.

  The Keeper.

  The walls vibrated with a second roar. Then a long, black limb smashed through the window. Glass shattered, wood splintered, furniture flew across the room as the beast’s appendage blasted into the house. Enormous claws spread open, sank deep into the floor, and raked backward, tearing up the carpet and the floorboards beneath it.

  Mitch dove to the side and rolled back to his feet as another gnarled limb crashed down through the roof, through the second floor, nearly impaling him where he stood.

  Mitch scrambled out of the way again and tried to formulate some kind of plan. Nathan had said they couldn’t kill this thing. He had said all he could do was disrupt it or disunify it or something. They had last left it buried under a thousand tons of rubble—Nathan had brought an entire building down on it.

  An overwhelming sense of hopelessness grew inside Mitch. He struggled to fight it back. But what could he do if the thing couldn’t be destroyed?

  His mind raced with more questions. How had it even gotten into the cave? How had it made it past the chalk lines Mitch had drawn at the entrance? That stuff was supposed to keep all those creatures away. According to Nathan, anyway.

  Regardless, the beast was clearly going to demolish the house and Mitch along with it. He dashed for the back door—no idea where exactly he was going or what he was going to find when he opened it.

  But one thing was clear: he’d have a better chance of survival outside the house than in it.

  Or so he hoped.

  70

  DEVON HAD A CLEAR SHOT at Hayden’s wife and daughter. He raised the gun and stopped. He suddenly felt a presence—someone standing behind him.

  “Devon?”

  He turned to see another woman behind him. Devon blinked. This had to be some kind of hallucination. His mother stood in the shadows of the hallway.

  Juanita Marshall only shook her head. Her eyes were moist. She’d been crying, yet she didn’t seem surprised to see him. At least not as surprised as he was to see her.

  “M-Mom?” Devon stammered. “Wh-what are you—?”

  “Oh, Devon, baby,” she whispered. “Don’t do this. Please come back to me.”

  A thick hand came out of the shadows and clutched his wrist like a vise, forcing the gun down. An arm wrapped around his chest from behind and squeezed.

  Devon swore. The grip on his wrist was so strong his hand went numb. The gun dropped out of his grasp and clacked onto the tiled floor of the hallway. Devon struggled against the force holding him. But he didn’t feel the rage or the power he’d felt on previous occasions. Where was Pale Man when he needed him?

  Devon caught a glimpse through the glass door. Pale Man just stood there, a stunned expression on his face. Slowly his lips peeled back, baring his teeth and gums. His eyes glowed bright yellow against the darkness outside. He looked more like an animal now than a man. He opened his mouth and roared.

  It was deafening. Devon felt his ribs shake with its fury. His entire body trembled and convulsed.

  Pale Man drifted backward, away from the door. Moving into the shadows of the yard. Soon, all Devon could see were his yellow eyes, glowing like flames. Then they disappeared as well.

  Meanwhile, someone had turned on the hallway light. Devon felt dizzy; his knees buckled and his body fell limp.

  A voice said softly in his ear, “I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you.”

  Devon fought through a haze of images and memories. He wondered if he had passed out. He found himself lying on the couch in the living room. There was a bustle of activity around him. A figure loomed over him. A stranger.

  But he looked vaguely familiar. A big white guy. Devon
thought he might have recognized him, but the memory was hazy. And there was Hayden’s wife and daughter, along with some other woman. A redhead. Their faces seemed concerned.

  And his mother sat beside him, her eyes red and her hands trembling. “Baby? Are you okay?”

  “Mom?” Devon tried to sit up. “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve been looking for you.” Her tears began again. “We had to find you before you went and did something stupid.”

  The big man spoke. “You know where you are?”

  “Yeah . . . I think so.” Devon tried to recall the specific events that led him here. Much of it was a jumble. “I… uh, I was in juvie.”

  “You escaped yesterday. You remember any of that?”

  Devon groaned. His head was throbbing. “Some dude… was… He made me… wanted me to… to kill…” Devon felt the room spinning. He lay back and felt himself sinking into darkness. He tried to tell them that he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. He had to tell them about the Pale Man. It was his fault. He had to tell them, but he was too tired.

  “. . . ghosts . . . in my mirror…”

  71

  “WHO?” CONNER’S MIND was spinning. “Wait until who gets here?”

  Owen moved behind Conner. “Let me kill him, and then I’ll go back out and find the girl. Either way, we’ll still have two of ’em.”

  Conner craned his neck, trying to see if Owen had a gun or if the guy was just planning to kill Conner with his bare hands. “Uh…” He tried to sound nonchalant but his voice was still shaky. “If it’s all the same to you… I just as soon wait.”

  Mrs. Bristol stared at Conner for a moment. “I know you saw Howard. Met him like you said. During your heart attack. I believe you.”

  “You do, huh?” Conner said.

  Mrs. Bristol seemed to get a glow in her eyes. A smile spread across her face. More like a psychotic grin. “You see, Mr. Hayden, I have a kind of sixth sense.”

  “Sixth sense?”

  “Ever since I was a young girl. Sort of an insight into the next dimension.”