Evil Stalks the Night

by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  They were terrified of something and at first I thought it might be Indians. There were three arrow shafts sunk deeply into the side of one wagon, the feathers brightly colored in the firelight. The other two wagons were partially burned.

  Behind me I could hear low-pitched voices at one of the other campfires, but I was drawn to the family crouched before me. I could smell their fear, as the wind snapped at the trees.

  I edged closer to hear what they were saying.

  “It’ll get us like it got Edward! It’ll get us.” The girl was weeping. Her eyes were glazed and wide. She appeared to be in shock and her tears were silent as they rolled down her thin face. The older boy patted her on the back to comfort her and all of them jumped, at the sound of a branch crackling somewhere out in the dark. They were afraid of something out in the woods—and it wasn’t Indians.

  “Hush, Becky!” the old woman warned. Her eyes shifted nervously among the shadows. Her face was wrinkled and she was shrunken into a lump of bones hovering above the warm fire. When she spoke her voice was the croak of a night frog out in the marshes. “It will hear you. It’ll get you,” she crackled down at the child. Even this far away, I could see the child jerk.

  The older man threw the crone a warning look and walked over to take the small girl in his arms. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. Tomorrow morning we’ll be away from this cursed place. Tomorrow we’ll leave.” He stared out at the darkness; stared right at me and I saw the light glitter in his eyes. “Soon as we bury Edward,” he finished coldly.

  The girl hid her face in her hands and her shoulders heaved.

  Who was Edward? What had happened to him?

  The wind howled around me and threw the wet snow up into my face. It was one of those frigid winter nights when your breath freezes almost before it gets out of your mouth. Shaking with the cold, I glanced over my shoulder at where my home should have been and there was nothing but the wilderness and the winter sky.

  When my eyes returned to the people I felt as if time had slid forward unobserved. The children were huddled together before the dying fire. The old woman was building it up and licking her lips before the flames. They were waiting. They weren’t going to sleep in the wagons. What were they afraid of?

  It was then he saw me.

  “Mandy? Is that you out there, girl?” He turned in the firelight and for a moment my heart lurched. He was a young version of my own father. Was he really seeing me?

  I ordered my body not to move an inch. Why didn’t I wake up! What was this?

  “Mandy!” he whispered loudly and strode towards me in that particular lumbering gait of his. Like my father’s.

  He was close enough to touch when he stopped. I wanted to cringe, but didn’t.

  “Mandy?” I repeated dumbly like a pet parrot. He could see me and he’d mistaken me for someone else.

  “You ran off and we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Thomas said you would come back. He did. He said, Mandy knows the woods like the back of her hand. Nothing can hurt her in the woods. Why, that’s her second home. Animals love her. That’s what he said. Are you unharmed?” There was concern in his voice and something else—a wariness.

  I stared at him.

  “Well, leastways,” he smiled crookedly as if I should know him, “you’re back safe. Come over to the fire and warm yourself a spell. Your brother’s worried sick over you. Gave us all a fright, you did. You surely did.”

  “I don’t…” The words hung suspended in the air as I said them, because he grabbed my wrist and gently dragged me out of the dark and into the firelight. When his hand touched mine it was colder than ice. He grinned and his teeth were stained. His eyes narrowed as a spark seemed to jump between us at his touch. I didn’t finish what I was going to say, though I had no idea what I could have said. I didn’t belong here. I’d be sent back to my own time any moment, so what did it matter anyway? I only had to play the game a little longer. Stall.

  The scream ripped his hand from mine. The woods were alive with that terrible laughter I remembered so well. The man dropped my hand and ran towards the children around the fire. It was out there and it was moving closer.

  I watched as it came into the dying light and eyed its prey. In a panic I screamed, too, as it snatched the smallest girl and slammed her against a tree. She fell to the snow-covered ground in a heap, not to move again.

  I tried to go to her, but already it was useless, everything, even the screams, were melting into the past. I felt the cold leaving my cheeks as I ran towards the people. I had to help fight it, I had to stop it! But I couldn’t because I was tumbling back to my own time, becoming a shadow. Even as a shadow, I was forced to watch.

  It had turned on the boy and he cowered before it, not trying to fight or escape the huge hulking thing that was all fangs and fire. Its laughter echoed through the woods—the devilish howl of a banshee, and it changed shapes as it tore at the doomed boy. Blood flowed and colored the snow. His cries mingled with the wolves howling in the night.

  As the boy fought he turned pleading eyes to me for help. Jimmy’s eyes. Jimmy’s face. I screamed a scream no one could hear.

  The creature released the boy and spun around to me, and I felt fangs sink into my shadow arm. The pain was so great, I only saw the boy fleeing through the trees in a pain-filled haze.

  He was running away, leaving us, to save himself and I was to die in his place.

  I shut my eyes and felt the claws digging into my neck and, suddenly, I didn’t feel anything. Things were shifting, breaking up like clouds. Was this what death was like?

  I no longer felt the snow on my face as I was thrown to the ground and I remembered what it was like. Dying. The agony, the blood and the final surrender. Then the peace.

  I’d died so many, many times before in nearly the same way.

  Above me it laughed hideously, eyes pieces of burning coal. Like the clinkers Jimmy and I used to shovel out of the old furnace, I thought.

  This has happened before. Why was I reliving it?

  Then everything faded away into the night. The creature, the bleeding children in the snow around the old wagons and the night itself fused into twilight and then daylight again. Jimmy’s pain-filled eyes were all that was left to haunt me.

  I awoke in my bed, soaked with sweat and fear. How I’d gotten there from Jeremy’s room I’ll never know. I don’t want to know. Bright sunlight was streaming across my bed and I was so happy to be back I cried. I was always weak after a vision, but later, as I dragged myself downstairs to the kitchen to make tea, I knew it had not been a usual vision. It’d been a message, a warning, of some kind. As I heated the water, I knew tea wasn’t what I needed. I needed help.

  I don’t know what made me look, but I did. There, vividly red and fresh on my upper right arm were claw marks, already healing scars, but there. I traced them with my fingers and cringed. They’d never been there before.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Do you know anyone named Jenny?”

  Jeremy looked at me. My question had taken him by surprise, but he got over it quickly.

  “Maybe I do.” His eyes were a blank.

  “Oh, my God,” I muttered.

  It was late the next night. I’d been on pins and needles all day waiting to hear Jim was safely on his way home. I called Ben early that morning and left messages. He was out on a case and wouldn’t be back until later, they’d told me. I asked them to please get him to call me—it was an emergency. I was still waiting to hear from him.

  About an hour before I’d had another vision. I knew the next victim, and when the murder was going to happen. It was the girl with the long braids I’d seen in front of the school. I’d known it all along but hadn’t been sure until then. I also knew the girl’s name. Jenny.

  “She’s my friend.” He plunked dow
n on the chair, sensitive to my mood. Jim was in trouble and unreachable. Now I was asking about his little friend.

  His words came spilling out. “How did you know her name? I never talked about her. She’s afraid of you. Afraid of everybody. Her parents don’t take very good care of her and beat her. She heard rumors about us, this house, and hid from you whenever I brought her here so you wouldn’t see her.

  “Are you mad at me because I kept her a secret?”

  I could hear the clock ticking on the wall and wondered how much time Jenny had. How much any of us had.

  “She promised she’d never speak to me again if I snitched on her,” he added in his own defense, and sighed at the look I gave him.

  “No.” I took his hands in mine and met his worried eyes. “I’m not mad at you. Where does she live?” It was the direct question that scared him.

  “There’s something wrong, isn’t there? Something to do with Jenny?” His hands tightened on mine. “Is Jenny in trouble?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” I fibbed, “but yes, something is wrong. Something to do with a skinny little girl with long dark hair. She wears her hair in braids?”

  “How did you know that?” His eyes opened further. “You’ve seen her?”

  “I’ve seen her.” My voice chilled even me. How could I tell him his friend was going to die, was dying perhaps even at this moment out in the forest?

  “In one of your dreams, wasn’t it?” He knew, he understood. “She’s in real danger, isn’t she?”

  I smiled sadly and nodded. “I have to call the police before it’s too late. Where does she live?” I got up to dial the number. I couldn’t wait for Ben any longer. I couldn’t wait for Jim either. Jenny might be dying and every second was wasting time. I had to try to save her, no matter what the police would think. It would be in all the papers, I realized with a sinking feeling, especially if I came out in the open like this, smack dab in the spotlight. Again. The weirdos and the desperate would flock to me like crows to carrion.

  I wouldn’t be able to hide.

  Speaking into the phone, I tried to remain calm. It wasn’t easy. I had to save Jenny’s life. I wouldn’t stand by and allow another innocent child to die if I could prevent it. Thank God, this time I might be able to do something. If it wasn’t too late.

  “Captain Sinclair, this is Sarah Towers.” Out it all came.

  When I hung up the phone I looked at Jeremy. His face was pale and he was trembling.

  “Can I go look for her? Can we go find her now? Please?”

  “No, we’ll let the police handle this. It’s very dangerous.”

  “Is Charlie doing this?” I could see he was trying desperately to understand what was going on, but he couldn’t, it was beyond him and there weren’t any words to explain away his fears.

  “No, not Charlie.”

  Without another word, he went to the window and pressed his face against the glass, so I wouldn’t see his tears.

  I’d gave Jenny’s address to Sinclair and told him everything I knew, or thought I knew. I begged him to hurry. He’d seemed surprised to hear from me and more surprised when I told him what I had to tell him. But he’d listened to every word and had signed off with a brisk goodbye and a thank you. I don’t know if he’d believed me. I prayed he had.

  I went to stand by my son. I put my arms around him.

  A short time later we heard sirens in the distance.

  “They gonna save Jenny?” he asked.

  “I hope so.” Yet my mind was in turmoil. I knew something no one else knew. The thing in the woods had never been beaten. I wanted to run out into the night and save Jenny myself. I wanted to do something.

  But I was afraid. Afraid to leave Jeremy and I couldn’t take him with me. Afraid to face the monster I’d seen in my vision the night before.

  Jeremy was scratching at the glass, making a racket that put my teeth on edge. “Jenny doesn’t deserve to die. She’s never had anything, Mom. She’s never had anybody to love her.” He was crying and I held him tighter because I was scared he was going to dash out into the night and attempt to find her himself. Save her.

  “Don’t. It won’t do any good,” I told him. “It never does any good.”

  “How do we know, unless we try, Mom!” His words died in the stillness around us and echoed back to haunt us. I didn’t have time to answer before the sirens became so loud I couldn’t speak above them. They were growing into a great growl and then there was dead silence.

  When the loud banging came at the front door both of us jumped.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jenny had been sent to bed early that night. She’d been punished for some silly thing or another. She couldn’t remember what, really. They were always doing that to her. They didn’t want her around. They wanted her out of the way so they could be alone with their bottles. She didn’t mind. They were fighting again. Her mom furious at her dad for spending too much money on something or other. He hadn’t gone to work that morning, which had made her mom even angrier. Jenny knew her father had stayed in bed half the day, after her mother had gone to work waiting on tables. Jenny knew he’d had another one of those mysterious headaches he got when he drank too much the night before.

  When her mother had come home a little while ago, she hadn’t been too happy at seeing him and the shouting had begun. Jenny could have recited by heart the scene that was to follow. It was always the same. Clever Jenny, she knew to stay out of their sight, out of their range of fire.

  So she sneaked outside and hid beneath the window, until night came. She grew frightened of the dark, though, which was full of whispers and danger, and crept past her battling parents to her room.

  That’s when she’d made her mistake. They were busy throwing things at each other and there was so much noise. It was worth the risk because ever since that boy Timmy had been killed, Jenny imagined this monster out there in the woods who loved to eat little children. That’s what had happened to poor old Timmy…the kid-eating monster had him for dinner. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and tiptoed through the kitchen and into the darkened hall. She could see her parents in the next room yelling at each other. Her mother’s face was red and angry and her father was pretending not to hear. They were right by the door. She’d never get past them to her room, where they thought she was sleeping.

  Silently, she slipped back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator enough to get her hand inside. She didn’t want to open it so wide that the light would alert them. She was hungry. They’d sent her to bed without supper again. Spying two wrinkled apples on the rear shelf she reached for them. Better than nothing, at least they’d stop her stomach from hurting.

  She was tired of being hungry. Jeremy was so lucky he didn’t have two parents. All they did was fight and send you to bed without supper. There were times since she’d met Jeremy, she wished she was his real sister. That she could live with him and his mother. Then she remembered where they lived. No, not in the haunted house. She shuddered, unsure what she’d do about that the problem. Well, it didn’t make any difference, she wasn’t one of them. She went back to the door, the apples tight in her hands. Her parents were throwing stuff at each other now, she sighed and slid down to the floor by the door to wait. Sooner or later they’d pass out. Then she could slip into her room and go to bed.

  A long time went by. She devoured the apples and waited. She catnapped against the wall whenever the shouting subsided. Finally, they calmed down, turned the television up and got interested in some show.

  Jenny made her move. All she’d have to do was slink around the corner behind their backs and burrow into her room. It should have been easy since their eyes were glued to the television set, but nothing seemed easy for Jenny these days.

  “Now what’s this? What are you up to, brat?” Her mother
turned and caught sight of her as Jenny got half way across the back of the front room. She jumped up and grabbed her by the scuff of the neck like some wayward kitten. “Got ya! Where have you been?” Her mother’s speech was slurred, hateful. Her eyes told Jenny she was going to get it now. She’d get a beating no matter what she said or did. She’d better accept it and get it over with. At least, afterwards, she could cry herself to sleep.

  Her eyes slid towards her father for help, but there was no help. He didn’t even seem to know what was going on, much less care about it. He smiled a mindless smirk at her over her head and Jenny knew she was lost. Her mother, irate and drunk, was far worse than her father.

  “You little sneak!” Her mother slapped her. Jenny’s eyes slammed shut and she tried to protect herself as best she could until the rain of blows were over. It was all she could do. “Naughty child, running all over the neighborhood like some little thief. What have you been up to? No, good, I bet.”

  “I haven’t done nothing, Mama,” Jenny whimpered and fought to keep from crying. Her mother liked it when she cried and would beat her worse if she didn’t. Yet Jenny had little of anything left but pride. So she kept the tears inside and bore a beating until her mother released her.

  “You need to be taught a good lesson. Get some discipline in ya, or else you’ll grow up just plain bad.” Her mother let go of her but continued to glare at her.

  Jenny lowered her eyes and tried to steal away. Please, let her forget me like she usually does. She tried not to hate them. They had so many troubles and that was why they drank too much. When they weren’t drinking they weren’t so bad. After all, they were her parents. But there were times, more frequent lately, when they didn’t seem to know when to stop hurting her, when they’d beat her too hard and draw blood. She could almost forget not to hate them then.

  “She needs to be taught a lesson, George. A good beating with the broomstick. That’ll set her straight. Imagine her stealing out of her room like that. I’ll teach her,” she heard her mother threaten from the other room as Jenny cowered in her bed, sniffling. Her arms and back ached from the beating and suddenly she was more afraid than she’d ever been.