It’s just light enough to make out something. A chair. A chair and a desk.
I can make out things on the desk. A computer. A big one.
I go back to the door, and then I hear the sound of an engine starting and tires spinning.
I don’t have Poe’s phone this time to ask her what’s going on.
I bolt back the way I came, and as I approach the road I can see something.
Not a car, but a figure.
I drop to the ground and find a tree to hide behind.
For a while I remain hidden, breathing fast but as quietly as I can, not moving.
I hear something jingle and then a deep cough. No car, no voices, nothing else.
I don’t know how long it’s been when I peer back around. I can hear the moving and shuffling going away from me.
It’s the big guy, the one in the trench coat and boots, and his dog. The German shepherd is on a leash. That’s what’s making the jingling sound.
They’re walking away from the house, down the road.
I watch them until they’re out of view.
Now what?
I need to start a to-do list.
Get a license and a car.
Get a phone.
Get a gun.
And yeah—get a life.
I wait for a little while and then step back on the road. It’s a lot darker now, and it’s just going to keep getting worse.
I start walking the way we came, hoping that maybe Poe will come back around. I walk for a few minutes, then stop, walk for a few minutes, then stop again, listening.
The mountain man and his dog are gone.
I reach the paved road and head back to town. I wonder if the cabin belongs to the bearded stranger I keep seeing.
If so, what’s he doing in the back there? And why does he keep showing up in the middle of nowhere?
I have another scary thought, one I don’t want to dwell on.
What if this guy is a ghost roaming these hills?
If he is, then Poe saw him too, the same way Jared saw him. So at least I’m not completely crazy.
It’s amazing how long I walk before hearing anybody or anything. When a car finally comes from behind me with its lights on, I’m not sure whether to remain on the road or hide. Before I can decide, I see the flickering brights of the headlights and realize that it’s Poe.
“Did you see that guy?” she says as I get in the car. “Tell me you saw something. Please.”
“Yeah.”
“He came out of the woods with that monster dog, and I completely freaked out.”
“That house is hiding something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. The back door was locked.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
“Maybe it belongs to the guy we saw.”
“Who gave you the address, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“See what I mean? This is why you can’t say anything, why we have to be careful.”
“I thought that’s what we’re doing, being careful. Not saying anything to anybody.”
“I gotta get home,” Poe says.
She doesn’t say much of anything else in the car ride home except that she’ll see me tomorrow.
When I shut her door and watch her drive off into the night, I wonder if I’m making a big mistake involving her in whatever’s happening to me.
I stand there outside in the darkness, full of so many questions. And so few answers.
70. Truly Tortured
I’m waiting for my mom in Brennan’s after track practice. I’ve done this several times, coming in for dinner and then going home with her. Tonight I’m in a booth in the corner, finishing a chicken sandwich, when someone slides into the seat across from me.
“Hello, Chris,” Pastor Marsh says.
I suddenly feel sick. There’s no way I can find an excuse to leave, especially since Mom is still busy and I’m holding what’s left of my dinner.
“Please, don’t let me stop you.”
I stick the rest of the chicken sandwich into my mouth. Jeremiah Marsh studies me, looking amused and without a care in the world.
“You know something, Chris. I have to tell you this. I like you. I really like you.”
He says it in a way that makes it seem like he’s going to follow up with And now I’m going to eat you.
“Would you like to know why?”
I’m still chewing. This is the longest bite I’ve taken in my life.
“Mmmm hmmm,” I respond.
“Because you, unlike so many in this nice little pub and wonderful little town, are not a follower. Everybody else—so many, it’s pitiful to even count—is just doing what everybody else does. They just march on like tiny little ants. You ever see a line of ants going to something sweet and sticky on the floor? Have you seen them all going to get just a little taste, just a little suck?”
I sit upright, my heart racing and my head unsure what to do.
“But you’re not like them, are you, Chris?”
“What do you want?”
He smiles. No looking around, no wondering if my mom’s going to come, no worries in the world. I look around to see if I can spot Mom, but she’s not in sight.
“I was a lot like you when I was young,” Pastor Marsh says. “Really. I didn’t like doing what I was told. I liked figuring out things myself. I like this about you. Now, you’ve still got a lot of figuring out to do, right? But you’re doing it on your own, in your own way.”
He knows I broke into his house. He knows, and this is his way of telling me.
“Want to know the most powerful thing in this world?”
For a second, I think of Iris asking the same thing and wonder if they’ve been having coffee recently. He still hasn’t answered my question, yet he’s asking his own cryptic ones. I don’t want to play along.
“Can I do something for you?”
“Yeah. You can stop trying to play games and engage with me. Don’t act coy, young man. Don’t try and act naive.”
I hear footsteps approaching, then see my mom standing there.
“You guys okay?”
“Wonderful,” the pastor says.
I nod.
“Just give me a few minutes,” Mom says.
Wonderful, my brain echoes.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
Marsh shakes his head. “No, thank you. My wife and I just finished dinner ourselves. Just wanted to see Chris. Heidi has such good things to say about him.”
Mom hears someone calling her name and disappears.
“My wife, your mother—they’re not so different, are they? Both can get made up and look oh so pretty, but deep down they’re really truly tortured, aren’t they?”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to answer my question. What’s the most powerful thing in this world?”
I shake my head.
Love, Chris. It’s love. That’s what Iris said. Tell him that.
He waits for a moment, acting as if I’m going to respond.
“It’s fear, Chris. Fear. It will drive a person to do anything. If you grow desperate and afraid, anything can happen. Anything.”
I swallow. I want to look away, but I can’t.
“You know enough about fear, right? But imagine being able to invoke it in others. My young man—it is a taste that cannot get any sweeter.”
He stands, looks around, then glances at me.
“Keep looking. Keep learning. Ultimately you’ll understand. Ultimately you’ll know what to do. We always do.”
With that he leaves.
I sit in the booth shivering and breathless and wondering why he’s playing games with me.
71. Girls
I sit in English class and remember looking back at Jocelyn. Some days she’d ignore me. Other days she’d give me a quick glance and smile.
Now she’s not around to do either.
I still feel like an
empty mug.
Day by day, something hot and bitter gets poured into that mug.
Day by day, I’m getting more full, but not particularly in a good way.
“Hi.”
This isn’t just a hi. It’s a rehearsed hi. Like the kind you do in front of the mirror for a part in a play. But this isn’t a play. It’s art class.
“Hi,” I say back to her.
There’s something different about her today. I guess if I paid closer attention I’d know it right away. It’s sorta like the months passing. I forget until someone tells me it’s already April.
“I don’t know if Sunday still works for you?”
I’m busy trying to figure out what looks different about her, and I basically ignore the question.
“It can be another Sunday. They were just thinking—my older brother is going to be in town.”
“You’re not wearing your glasses.”
I need to be a little quicker about these things.
“Sometimes I wear contacts.”
“Really?”
She gives me a polite smile that probably says Yes, like every other day, you idiot.
“It’s fine if it won’t work.”
“No—that’s great. I mean—is it a formal thing?”
“No. We’ll be coming back from church.”
Again, I wait. She didn’t ask the first time, but maybe the second.
“But we always change anyway before lunch.”
Again, she doesn’t ask.
“Will you need a ride?”
“No, please, come on.”
I say that as if I can’t believe she’s asking me if I need a ride.
But, to be honest, I do need a ride.
I’m such a loser.
Girls asking me out and me needing rides.
Loser.
I manage to get to Poe, who’s rummaging in her locker, before she can spot me coming and bolt.
For a moment, I realize that she’s just as alone as I am at this school. Jocelyn and Rachel are both gone. I don’t see that she’s replaced either of them.
“Poe.”
She looks at me with a nervous, attacking stance.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I joke.
“Chris, you know—we’ve talked about this.”
“I haven’t heard anything since—”
“You will.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the next—”
But she takes off before I can ask her what our next step of action is.
I sigh.
There’s gotta be a self-help book out there that can help me with these—girls.
72. Meets and Meetings
“We’ve got a big meet coming up on the twenty-first. So I don’t want any of you doing anything stupid the weekend before, like getting arrested or going to the hospital for drinking too much. Got that?”
He seems to be talking to Ray and me. I think he could care less about two-thirds of the guys on the team.
Obviously Coach Brinks doesn’t know me.
“The meet this Thursday will be a warm-up for Hendersonville because they’re tough, and frankly, we aren’t. But we still got a little game in us, right, Chicago?”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
“Now let’s go out and have a good practice.”
As we’re walking off the center of the field to the track, Ray pulls me aside. “Hey—you make a decision about prom yet?”
For a second I think prom is some kind of dish I’m supposed to try.
“No.”
“Alexis really wants to go with you.”
“She told you?”
I vaguely remember Ray talking to me about this some time ago, but I was winded and my shins were killing me and I couldn’t for the life of me picture Alexis.
“No, not really. But, come on. She’s a senior. She’s hot. And she’s pretty much willing.”
“I don’t know.”
I haven’t even seen Alexis, not to mention the fact that I really couldn’t care less about going to this school’s prom.
“I’ll introduce you to her. Stef is good friends with her, and they want to double. And I’m telling you, buddy …”
Ray laughs as Coach Brinks barks out to us.
As I start practicing hurdles, I reflect that this is certainly good training for what I need to do around this place.
Run and jump.
Run far away and jump over everything in my path.
Ray is going to take me home when another voice interrupts and offers me a ride instead. Turns out it’s time to touch base with Jared.
Part of me still questions whether I should tell him about Poe.
“You still keeping a low profile?” His voice has an accusatory tone in it.
“Do I still have to?” I ask.
“Look—just—some weird things have been happening, and I needed to let you know about them.”
“Like what?”
And what’s your definition of weird, since everything around here is weird?
“The group that meets at the falls. You said you saw them once. Do you have any idea where they might be meeting now?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t been invited.”
“The sheriff—has he talked with you at all?”
“Sheriff Wells? Not since calling me a liar and telling me to stay out of his hair.”
“He’s been doing some funny things recently. So how’s that new job of yours going?”
“It’s good. It pays well. And the lady there is pretty cool.”
“And you haven’t discovered any dead bodies in the basement?” Jared jokes.
“Those rumors are just because Iris never goes to town. You ever been up there?”
“A long time ago, I think. You’ll have to take me up there sometime.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “If you want to help me do some work.”
“One other thing I’m worried about.”
“What?”
He pauses for a moment. “Your mother.”
“Why?”
“Because of some of the people she’s been hanging out with. Some of the things she’s been doing when she’s gone.”
“She’s always working.”
“Not always.”
I ask him what that means.
“Don’t get defensive. I’m telling you what I’m seeing. I have the luxury of being able to find out things. You don’t. That’s okay.”
“What’s she doing, then?”
“There are many ways of getting involved with the wrong people around here.”
I still don’t get it. And maybe I don’t want to.
“I have a feeling things will only get worse.”
“Like how?”
For a while we drive, and Jared doesn’t say anything.
“I think they know. I think that they know that things are unraveling.”
“How?”
“Because of you, Chris. Because you’re different in some way.”
I recall Mr. Meiners getting angry at me after the fight with Gus and saying the same thing.
Different how? Different why?
“I’m not doing anything.” Besides sneaking into the pastor’s house and finding some little weird cabin.
“You gotta tell me everything.”
“I am.”
Of course I’m not.
He gets to my house and leaves the car running as if he’s waiting.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You have to start telling me everything, because I’m the only person around here who can help you, you got that? Nobody else can do that. Nobody. Not even those who used to know Jocelyn.”
He knows about Poe.
Of course he knows about Poe.
“She’s harmless, but also stupid. Chris, you just gotta start using your head. And start trusting me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll be around ag
ain. Soon. Maybe I can give you a lift to your job sometime.”
“Okay.”
“Stay safe.”
He drives off while I head inside, not sure if Mom is working or not, not sure if and when she’s ever working now.
Doubt really sucks.
73. Harold Martin
The more I work on the history of the Crag’s Inn, the more random notes get added to the assorted piles.
The earliest I can find anything mentioned is a little after the Civil War. In the 1870s there was talk of the railroad being built and passing through the town of Solitary. This was meant to be an alternative to another steep railroad pass called Pace’s Gap, which ended up being completed first around the end of the 1870s. For a while trains ran through Solitary, in the 1880s and 1890s, but they increasingly weren’t used because of the trains used on Pace’s Gap not too far away.
While Solitary itself isn’t mentioned a lot in the notes I’m reading, the railroad is mentioned frequently. It seems that was how the first owner/builder of the inn found the town and the area. He got off the train and ended up buying the plot of land where the inn stands. His name was Harold Martin. At first it seemed he just wanted a place to build a business. But there’s quite a bit more to Harold’s story.
Something happened to his family—some tragedy. It’s referred to repeatedly but never really named. His wife and maybe children? All I learn is that Harold Martin came to Solitary alone and decided to buy property and build an inn there.
One letter repeatedly says that the inn will not be in Solitary, but nearby.
It cannot be in the town, that will not work.
It seems that this Harold Martin was a religious man. He mentions following God’s path and God’s will over and over. He refers to whatever happened to his family as “the darkness” and the inn being a light.
I need to do something to squelch the darkness and combat the fatigue of my weary soul.
Initially he got resistance from people about buying the property, then about building. But every good thing he says is an answer to prayer—“fervent prayer” as he calls it, “prayer with petition.” Despite the resistance, he was able to build the inn sometime before the turn of the century.
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