“We're in—” Mike stopped himself just in time. Nice. Real smooth. I almost screwed that up, Mike thought, feeling ashamed. “I can't say the name. But remember a long time ago, we talked about taking a camping trip? Good trout fishin', remember?”
“No,” Kevin said. Then: “Wait a minute! Are you talking about that place up in—”
“Don't say it!” Mike cut him off. “Just in case anyone is listenin'.”
“Oh, shit! I read you loud and clear, Mike.”
“I gotta get going, but there's something I want you to do for us.”
“Name it.”
“I need you to call each of our parents and tell them we're alright. Use a pay phone and don't tell them who you are. And no matter what they say, don't you tell them where we are. Also, we have a girl with us. Her name is Stacey Mackinnon. I need you to write this down.” Mike pulled a slip of paper from his wallet and read him the telephone number, which Stacey had jotted down for him the day before. “I need you to call her parents and tell them she's safe.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah, be careful. Don't trust anyone, you got that?”
“No problemo. Tell everybody I said to hang in there. This place sucks without you guys.”
Smiling, Mike hung up. He wasn't sure how long it really took the police to trace a phone call, and he hoped to God that, if Kevin's phone did indeed have a tap on it, they hadn't talked long enough to give them a lead.
“What did Kev have to say?” Rick asked quickly as they returned to the Thunderbird.
They hopped into the car and Mike keyed the engine.
“A girl in Futawam disappeared last night. They think it was us. The good part is, they still think we're in the area. The bad part is, the cops're going crazy trying to find us.” Mike shook his head in disgust. He put the car into gear and doubled back in the direction of the cabin.
“How come you never said nothing before… that you recognized that man at the house that night?”
No, not a man. A monster. A motherfucking monster.
“I don't know. I guess it kinda bugged me that I couldn't remember where I've seen him before. We wouldn't be in this mess right now if I could've ID'd him.” But I have seen him, he thought. I'm sure of it. I know him. Somehow. But from where?
Yes oh yes oh yes you do, the giants said softly. And you know what, Mikey? He knows you, too!
Remember, damnit, Mike thought. Remember!
“I think we should keep the shotgun in the cabin from now on,” Mike said, and then flashed Rick a sideways glance. “When no one else is around, we'll stash it under the couch. Just in case.”
Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.
Karen's not gonna like this. Not one bit.
Rick nodded. In his mind he heard himself work the shotgun action. Chick-chick...
And his smile was almost malicious.
Booom!
~Thirty-One~
Karen was nervous.
Mike had left for the store in his usual upbeat mood, and had returned quiet and impatient. Tonight, as they gathered at their ritual dining spot by the river, he'd seemed preoccupied by something. Several times she'd caught him staring into the fire with a distant look in his eyes. When she tried to ask him what was wrong, he only smiled and shook his head, barely acknowledging her presence. There was no doubt in her mind he was troubled.
Now he was standing at the bedroom window again, forehead pressed against the glass, looking out into the night, where the (giants) mountains loomed beyond the river. With a trembling hand, he ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, trying to make sense out of everything that had happened in the last few days. Was there any sense in their existence? If there was, he could not find it. Far too many questions were being left to him.
Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.
What was Mike, the great decision-maker, to do next?
The weight of responsibility was growing too heavy on his shoulders. His head throbbed, his muscles ached.
Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.
Karen was lying on a blanket on the floor, watching him closely with her expressive brown eyes. Naked save for a gray baby-T and black cotton panties, her thin body was nothing less than beautiful in the moonlight.
“Are you coming to bed?” she asked in a seductive voice. She hooked a thumb under the elastic waistband of her panties, snapped it playfully against her hip.
He tried to ignore her invitation, and failed.
“In a little bit,” he answered with a sigh, already wanting her more than he was willing to let on.
Her smile became a frown. “What's wrong?”
He shook his head and shrugged. Upon returning from the store, he and Rick were fortunate enough to have found the cabin vacant, the others having gone down to the river for a swim, and so the task of hiding the shotgun under the living room couch was an easy one.
At first Mike felt as though he and Rick should have told the others what they had done, that it simply wasn't fair to keep a secret from them, especially after all that they had been through together. But in the end, they had both agreed that the shotgun's presence in the cabin would only raise unnecessary concerns, and that it was best to keep it quiet; at least for now.
“Come here,” she said, moving aside for him. “Please.”
After a few seconds, he went to her.
“What's the matter?” she asked, as he lay down beside her.
“I was just thinking,” he said, and that was all he offered.
“About what?”
“About my parents,” he said, running his fingers through her hair. He was about to elaborate, but then he smiled and shook his head. “Naw, it's dumb.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” she said, and she closed her eyes as his hand caressed her face. She slowly opened her eyes. “Go on.”
“Well, I was just thinking about a story my dad used to tell me and Lou when we were little...about the night he and my mom first met.”
Karen smiled a little, and that was enough to keep him talking. He continued to trace her facial features with his fingers, seemingly unaware of what his hand was doing.
“He used to tell us how he was at this college dance...he was a freshman at Bentley ...and from across the room he saw this girl wearing the brightest red dress, and how he'd wanted to go and talk to her, but he was kinda shy.”
“So what happened?” Karen asked. Her brown eyes were wide with anticipation.
“Well, because of her dress, he knew where she was the whole night. He just had to look around and he could spot that dress from anywhere in the room. He wanted to talk to her, but there were too many people around, so he waited until most of the other people had cleared out of the dance, and when she was putting on her coat he went over and introduced himself. And that's how they met.” He shrugged a little. “I told you it was dumb.”
“Well, I think it's sweet. But what on earth made you think of that now?”
“I know it sounds weird, but ever since my dad first told that story, I've always wondered how things might've been if she'd decided to wear a different dress that night. Maybe he never would've noticed her. Or maybe he would've noticed her, but would've lost her in the crowd. Some other guy could've approached her first. My dad could've even chickened-out. There's so many possibilities, so many different ways that night could've ended. It's crazy, y'know?
“I was just thinking of that, and I was thinking, I wonder if I made the right choice in bringing us all here. I don't know...it's just...it's kinda hard being the one who makes all the choices...all the decisions.”
Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. Are you making the right decisions?
“Everybody's depending on me in one way or another,” he finished, “and I'm just as lost as they are.”
“Of course you are,” Karen whispered, running her fingers along the side of his face. “But you're doing everything you can.”
“Am I?”
�
��Mike, things are really crazy right now. You know that, don't you? They look up to you because you've always been the one with the level head. You're like a father to them.”
He frowned. “I just…I just never thought I'd feel so old at 18. All those times we all shared together, all those moments that I thought would last forever…they're gone. Nuthin' I can say or do can bring them back. Why is that? Why do we have to lose everything we love? Why does time have to be such a dirty fucking bastard?”
Karen simply stared at him, lips parted, shaking her head. She'd never heard Mike talk like that before. Still shaking her head, she whispered, “I don't know.”
Mike ran his hands down his face. He looked at Karen steadily, the sadness so apparent in his cool gray eyes. Thinking of how much he loved this beautiful girl he was looking at, he started to smile. “Do you really think I'm their leader?”
Some leader, he thought briefly. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get us all killed.
“Yeah, I do,” Karen answered with a smirk, glad they had moved on to another topic. “And don't you forget it.”
He turned to her. “I love you, hun,” he told her, looking her in the eyes, and he'd never meant it more than he did right then. “You're the best thing that could've happened to a guy like me.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but she put her fingers on his lips, stopping him. “Lou told me you got accepted to UMASS,” she whispered. “He said you might get a football scholarship. Why didn't you tell me?”
Mike looked at her steadily. “I was going to,” he said. “It just didn't seem like the right time to talk about it.”
“He's so proud of you. We all are.”
“It's not a big deal.”
“Don't be so damn modest.”
“I'm not. There's just more to life than football.”
Karen nodded agreeably. “What about us?”
His voice softened. “I was sorta hoping you'd come with me. You know, we could rent an apartment or somethin'. You could always enroll with me, if you want to.”
Karen was still looking at him with those gorgeous brown eyes of hers. Doe-eyes, as Mike had once called them. She frowned. “You promise?”
“I promise,” he said, grinning. “I'm not goin' anywhere without you, babe.”
Her smile was wide enough to catch the moonlight, accentuating her high cheekbones, her small, pouty mouth. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips against his. It was a long, loving kiss.
Mike climbed on top of her, using his elbows and forearms to support himself above her. Running his fingers through her long, silky hair, he supposed he could save his bad thoughts for another time. She looked up at him, and licked her scarlet lips, waiting to be kissed again. As he eased his body against her, his open mouth finding hers, they slowly began to undress each other.
In the fusion of shadows and moonlight, she was more than just a shape, more than just a body. She was a part of him. A part of him that he loved more than anything else in the world. As their naked bodies moved together, slowly, tenderly, quietly, so that the others could not hear them, he thought about the first time they had made love, on his parent's bed while they were away on vacation, which was probably the very same bed where his life, as well as the life of his younger brother, had originated. He thought of how tightly they had held each other at Lori's funeral, where Karen had been so shaken she hadn't had the strength to stand on her own. He thought of dancing with her at the prom, singing in her ear as he spun her around, and how she had tilted her head back, laughing, as he nearly tripped over his own two feet. These precious memories, along with a million others, came rushing back to him all at once as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.
Karen also doted on these things. They were the kind of things two lovers would not and could not forget for as long as their hearts still pumped with life. Those bittersweet memories that even time could not erase.
It was shortly after midnight when they finally fell asleep in each other's arms, their bodies naked and warm. Sleep was kind, and gave them dreams instead of nightmares.
Dreams of the past, present, and future.
~Thirty-Two~
In the nightmare he was running, and the man wielding the machete was close behind. Lou could hear him laughing, could feel the cold steel slicing through the air at his back, but his legs were moving in slow motion, as if he was running through muddy water. He could not move fast enough. He could not hide. He could not escape.
In the darkness he stumbled and fell onto his hands, but they only served to cushion the impact. He collapsed onto his stomach, grinding his teeth together in anticipation of the pain he knew was coming, but there was none. Strange, he thought. Then he twisted around to face the man, the Hacker, and what he saw was something from a fairy tale gone awry. The Hacker's face was a madman's version of a grandfather clock, with one eye at ten o’clock, the other at two. The timekeeping hands sprouted forth from the tip of his nose, spinning like twin propellers.
Lou screamed.
The Hacker raised the massive machete high above his head, clenching it with both hands. The blade glowed as if it were made of fire, and for a moment the monster stood frozen, grinning, distorting the numbers that were printed on its flesh, savoring the moment, as the hands on its face spun out of control, rapidly ticking away the final seconds of Lou Swart's life.
“Hickory Dickory Dock!” the Hacker howled through the folds of a lopsided mouth. It sounded as though he were gargling mud. “Ya can't eshcape the clock!”
This has got to be a dream, thought Lou, because I'm gonna die!
Then the blade came down...
Swish!
And that's when Lou Swart awoke, screaming at top volume. A cold sweat had gathered on his forehead, trickling down to meet the tears that were already running down his face. As he choked for air, he could still hear the distant sound of the blade rushing toward him, aiming to cleave his skull in two.
Swish!
Max awoke instantly and was now by his side, shaking him in the dim moonlight. Within seconds, the others came rushing into the room, wide-eyed and worried-looking.
“What the fuck happened?” Mike asked, brushing past Max.
“I don't know,” Max said worriedly. “He just started freakin'. He must've had a bad dream or somethin'.”
Some dream, thought Mike. He could still hear the distant sound of Lou's scream echoing through the valley. He knelt on the floor beside his brother. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled with concern. He licked his lips. “Lou, it was only a dream.”
Lou whispered something softly. Something they couldn't quite hear. His eyes were wide with fear. His lips quivered.
Everyone leaned in a little closer to him.
“What?”
“He's coming,” Lou said, speaking loud enough so that they all heard him this time.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” inquired Max, his voice rising shrilly. A match popped to life, filling the air with sulfur, filling the dark room with a sudden burst of light, illuminating Max's frightened face. He lit a cigarette and puffed on it nervously. He shook out the match.
“HE'S COMING!” Lou repeated in a shrill voice. Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. “HE'S COMING!”
Outside, the wind was an angry creature, hissing and howling against the cabin walls, rattling the windows, trying to force its way inside.
~Thirty-Three~
Four days later.
Kevin Chapman was sprawled upon his waterbed that humid afternoon, arms crossed behind his head, staring at the dull white paint of his bedroom ceiling, wondering what his friends were doing at that moment.
They were hundreds of miles away, doing God-knows-what in the mountains of New Hampshire, and here he was in Hevven, probably the lamest cow-town in the entire nation, torturing himself with worried thoughts. They were together, though. At least they had that much. And he was alone. Always alone. He wished that he and Mike had had more time to discuss what
had taken place at the Moody house. He wished he'd never agreed to commit himself to Mount Hope. But most of all, he wished that he was with his friends. At least then he would know whether or not they were okay. Because right now he was lonelier than he'd ever been before.
Four days had passed, and still no word from Mike. The police had finally showed up on the second day, Officer Bailey and some stocky little guy from the FBI who, contrary to Kevin's preconception, didn't look anything like Fox Mulder from the X-Files. The FBI agent had done most of the talking, casually reading his questions from a notepad, as though he was going over this week's grocery list. The interrogation was brief, almost anticlimactic. Kevin denied any knowledge of his friends' whereabouts, and the two men left rather quickly, as if they'd had more important things to do. As Kevin showed them to the door, the FBI guy had slipped a business card into his hand, and Kevin had a sneaking suspicion that the two men knew more about his missing friends than they were willing to let on.
Kevin supposed that the only thing that had gone according to plan was the calls he had made three days ago, from a payphone outside a 7-11 in Futawam. Each went smoothly, except for the fact that he'd been unable to reach Mr. Kendall, who was probably piss-drunk and passed out on the living room floor in a puddle of his own vomit, which was an all-too-common occurrence at the Kendall home. Not that Max's dad would've cared to hear about his only son, anyway. Kevin thought it likely that Mr. Kendall hadn't even noticed Max was missing. Although the ordeal had been somewhat nerve-wracking, Kevin had managed to bullshit his way through each and every explanation. And he was extremely careful to change the subject when the common questions arose: Where are they? Where's my son? Where's my daughter? Who the hell is this?
He had told them whatever he thought they'd want to hear, everything but his own name, just as Mike had instructed him to do. And, as usual, Mike's plan worked. Kevin had never doubted that it would. Mike's plans almost always worked.
Kevin got up and snatched a Maxim magazine from a stack on his bureau. He brought it back to his bed, and began leafing restlessly through its pages. Next to Hustler and Club, Maxim was his favorite magazine. The articles were interesting, the jokes were funny, and the women…well, they were almost too gorgeous to be real. But today, Kevin couldn't focus long enough to read any of the articles. And the jokes did not seem funny for some reason. Even the glossy pictures of scantily clad women did not interest him, as they usually did. He flipped through the magazine, once, twice, then closed it with a slap.
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