by James Hunt
I will take your blood.
A scream snapped Amy from her slumber, and it took her a moment to realize that the scream wasn’t hers.
Terry stumbled out of bed first, waking everyone by flipping on the light. “Where’s Liz?” He followed the scream to the window. “Oh my god.” He sprinted toward the door and was out of the hallway before Amy was out of bed.
“Mommy?” Maisie asked, whimpering.
Amy walked to her daughter, scooping her off the bed to soothe her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” But her voice betrayed her as she looked out the window, spying Liz in the center of the road, screaming bloody murder.
Both still dressed in their pajamas, Amy carried Maisie down the hall, taking the elevator down.
The receptionist Amy passed in the lobby was already on the phone with the police, and Liz’s screams grew louder as she held tight to her father, madness in her eyes.
“Shh, it’s okay, Lizzy,” Terry said, holding her up. “It’s okay.”
But Liz only clawed at her father’s back, her cheeks red from screaming, tears flowing from her eyes.
Maisie tightened her arms around Amy’s neck, distressed by her sister’s crying, and buried her face into her mother’s shoulder. And while Amy continued to reassure her daughter that everything was fine, she found that she had mostly repeated the message for herself.
“Sweetheart, I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Terry said, trying to keep Liz still. “You have to slow down. What happened?”
“S-something took him,” Liz replied. “I-I-I—” She shut her eyes, her mouth closed, but her lips still trembling. She swallowed and then forced it out. “I-I don’t know what it was.”
“Took who?” Terry asked.
“M-m-m-ax,” Liz said.
One of the hotel workers who had been the first one out at the scene frowned. “Max Winstead?”
Liz nodded.
“Okay,” Terry said, his voice soft. “You’re okay now.”
Liz whimpered and clung tight to her father.
For the second time today, the police were called, and paramedics checked the health of one of the Holloway girls. Liz had calmed down some by the time the authorities arrived, and she sat stoic and motionless while the paramedics performed their examination.
The police tried questioning her, but she couldn’t spit out much more than the fact that she and the boy Max had gone to the mine, and that she saw something, and then she ran.
“What did you see?” The officer asked.
Amy leaned close, fixated on her daughter’s response, convinced she already knew what her daughter had seen. Convinced that whatever was happening here was more than just Amy’s own illness.
“A man,” Liz answered. “He was… hurt.”
“Hurt how?” The officer asked.
“His face,” Liz answered. “There was something wrong with his face.”
When Liz started to break down again, the officer closed his notebook and then turned to Terry and Amy. “I need to speak with you two for a moment.”
With Maisie still in her arms, Amy placed her next to Liz in the back of the ambulance. “Just stay right here with your sister, okay?”
“Okay.” Maisie sidled up next to her sister and wrapped her arms around Liz’s waist, pressing her face into Liz’s side.
Officer Martinez, who had been the same cop on duty to take Amy’s call to the police, crossed his arms once Liz joined their tiny circle. “We’ve contacted Max’s parents, and they don’t know where he is. Now, I don’t believe your daughter has done anything wrong, but I’m going to have to ask her some more questions at some point.”
Terry frowned. “She’s not in trouble, is she?”
“When she’s calmed down a bit, I’d like for you to bring her down to the station and have her give an official statement.” He dropped his arms, his posture more casual. “More than likely it was just some kind of prank, and when the kids saw the cops coming, they got scared and ran. I’m willing to bet that Max will show up at home soon, and this will be done with. But, for whatever reason if it’s not, I’ll give you a call in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Terry said.
But once the officer was gone, Amy stepped closer to her husband. “This wasn’t a prank.”
“Amy, not now.”
“I’m serious, Terry,” Amy answered. “Liz saw what I saw.”
And while he wanted to deny his wife’s claims, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the facts. “So, you both saw the same man. Who is he?”
“I don’t know.” Amy pointed to herself and Liz. “But we’re somehow connected to all of this somehow.” She crossed her arms. “I want to go home.”
“I still have work tomorrow.”
“Terry, this place isn’t safe.”
“You’re letting your imagination get the better of you.”
Terry walked away, but Amy lunged forward and blocked his path.
“I’m telling you we need to leave,” Amy said.
Angry, Terry shoved his face within a few inches of Amy’s. “And I’m telling you that we can’t! Do you know why? Because we don’t have any money, Amy.”
“What?”
“We’re one payment away from losing the house.” Terry stepped forward, and Amy stepped back. “And do you know why we’re about to lose the house? Because of your accident. Because of the medical bills. Because I missed meetings with clients, who dropped me because I wasn’t able to get the job done, because I had to take care of a wife that lost her fucking mind!”
“I didn’t lose my mind, Terry.” Amy fought the tears back, refusing to break down. “And I didn’t know that our money problems were that bad. You could have told me—”
Terry scoffed. “Yeah, like you could have handled it.”
The quip stung, but Amy nodded. “Okay. You want to stay here? Fine. But I’m not letting you endanger the girls.”
“Oh no, Amy, I’m not the one who endangered our girls,” Terry answered. “I’m not the one at fault. I stayed, I have done what I should have done, even though it was easier to just leave you. But I didn’t.”
Amy paused. “Did you want to?” She stepped closer to him, open and vulnerable. “Do you still want to?”
Terry took a few breaths, calming down, and then shook his head. “I don’t know anymore.” He walked away, heading toward the ambulance where he picked Maisie up, and then helped Liz walk back to the hotel.
Amy watched them leave, and after they disappeared into the hotel, she turned back toward the mine. Police tape had been crossed in a big X over the entrance, the flimsy plastic shaking with the wind.
“Hey.”
Amy turned and was surprised to find a woman standing near an alleyway. She was by herself, and she glanced around with the suspicion of someone who was in a place that they shouldn’t be.
The woman motioned Amy toward her, and then disappeared down the alley.
Amy followed. She didn’t know why, other than the fact that she had spent the past three months speaking to people who said she was crazy, that what she saw and heard didn’t exist, and now she knew that they did. The quest for truth was a powerful motivator.
Amy made it to the end of the alleyway, and instead of finding a phantom, some ghost that had led her on a wild goose chase, she saw the woman, cloaked in dark clothes and a baseball cap. But even incognito, Amy could tell the woman was strikingly beautiful. It was in her eyes.
“You’re Amy Holloway,” she said.
Amy frowned. “Yes.”
“You saw me earlier tonight,” she said. “Speaking with your husband.”
Amy moved toward her quickly. “That was you?”
The woman nodded. “What did your husband tell you about this job?”
“His job?” Amy frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“More than you know,” the woman answered. “I’ve been trying to talk to him, but he won’t listen to me. I was hopin
g he might listen to you.” She reached into her pocket, and Amy stepped back. Noticing the movement, she said, “It’s not a weapon.” Slower, she removed a rock in a plastic bag and held it up between them. “Give this to your husband. Just tell him to test the sample for himself. He’ll know I’m not lying once he sees the results.”
“Lying… Results for what?” Amy cradled her head in her hands, overwhelmed by the bombardment of everything. The dreams. The voices. And now Liz. It was like her sickness was spreading, infecting everyone she loved. Maybe Terry was right. Maybe she was the problem.
“Hey.” The woman grabbed Amy’s left wrist and removed Amy’s hand from the side of her head. “I know this is a lot. But if I can’t get your husband to stop his work with Earth Core, then a lot of people are going to die.” She placed the bagged rock into Amy’s hand. “Children could die.” She stepped back. “You’re not crazy, Amy.” She gestured to the rock. “You help me, and I’ll help you.”
“Help me?” Amy asked, following the mysterious woman. “Help me with what?”
“You want to know why you had that accident, you want to know why this happened to you. Have your husband test that rock, and then come find me.”
“Where?”
“The protestor camp outside of Ghost Town.”
The woman disappeared into another side alley, and by the time Amy reached it, the woman was gone. She stared at the rock in her hand, convinced that her instincts about this place were right. It was dangerous. For everyone.
38
Morning came early, and Terry was the first one awake. He wasn’t sure how the rest of the family slept, but he had remained awake after they returned to the room.
Terry rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, forgoing a shave, and dressed quickly, grabbing his field gear and heading out the door. He snagged a muffin from the breakfast line in the cafeteria and finished it on his way to the mine.
Police tape blocked off the entrance of the mine used by the guests during tours, but Terry’s work was on the backside of the mine, which Mulaney had ensured him was structurally sound. Still, Terry entered warily.
Terry had been consulting for building companies for over ten years, and never in that time span had been as apprehensive about entering a place as this.
The entrance to the back of the mine was dark, ominous. He stepped forward and then stopped, the bag of surveying equipment clutched in his left hand swaying from the sudden pause.
What had started out as lunacy was becoming a pattern. First Amy saw something in the mine. Then Liz. And while he didn’t want to believe that there was truth to it, he couldn’t ignore the facts.
But the heat from the day and the reality of his situation eventually forced Terry into the mine shaft, and he started his slow descent, taking measurements and examining the structure that Mulaney’s people had already put in place.
Contracts had dried up over the past three months because of missed deadlines. And while he made sure to never let Amy know about their new financial struggles, it was hard for him not to blame her for their predicament.
And while Amy had gone through therapy and counseling, which had further drained their savings account, Terry did his best to reconcile with his wife. The woman he loved and had built a wonderful life with. He tried to separate his wife from the woman who had nearly killed both of their girls. And after three months, he still struggled with the task.
Terry had always believed that you don’t quit on family. No matter what. He had come from a strong family, and that sense of duty and loyalty to his blood was instilled in him at a young age. But he had never experienced anything like this. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.
After a while, Terry fell into that soothing rhythm of work and pushed aside the troubles of the outside world. Deeper into the mine, he checked rock and soil densities, examined the new support structure, making sure that no rock went unturned.
Terry’s headlight flickered and then finally went out. He groaned and removed his helmet.
Alone in the darkness, Terry worked quicker than usual to replace the light, nerves causing him to fumble the battery from his pack to the ground. He dropped to a knee, groping the rocky ground in search of the dime-sized battery, muttering to himself for being such a klutz.
Footsteps echoed back toward the surface, and Terry spun around to find nothing but darkness. He searched the ground quicker, the steps growing louder. Sweat broke out under his arms, followed by the familiar stench of fear. His breathing quickened, and his heart rate mirrored the breakneck pace.
Finally, his fingertips glided over the metallic surface of the battery and he snatched it up, flipped the helmet over, replaced the dead battery, and then quickly flicked the light on, blasting it in the direction of the noise.
“Christ, Terry, aim that thing somewhere else, will you?” Mulaney held up his hand, shielding his eyes. “You trying to blind me?”
Terry lowered the light and dusted off his pants as he stood. “Mr. Mulaney, I didn’t realize you were coming over today.”
Mulaney kept his attention on the walls, running his hands across their surfaces like a doctor examining a patient. “After what happened last night, I wanted to make sure that we didn’t experience any more surprises.” He turned around. “How’s your daughter?”
“She’s fine,” Terry answered.
Mulaney nodded. “I’m glad.” He pocketed his hands and rocked back and forth on his heels. “You know it’s easy to get distracted with everything that’s going on, so I wanted to make sure that you still had your eye on the prize.”
“Mr. Mulaney, I can assure you that I’m here to do the job, and to do the job well,” Terry answered, his mouth suddenly dry.
“That’s good to hear, Terry.” Mulaney walked closer to him, eyeing him with a studious glare. “Family is important.”
“I know,” Terry said.
“You get this done and you’ll never have to worry about money again.” Mulaney clapped Terry on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to work.” He glanced at the narrow shaft. “Pretty soon this place will be pumping gold into the smelters and cash into our pockets.” He clapped his hands, the noise echoing down the mine. He walked a few steps, and then turned around. “Oh, and, Terry?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t fuck me on this.” He smiled that toothy grin, more wolf than human, and then disappeared.
Terry waited until Mulaney was gone before he returned to work. Why the man hadn’t brought a light with him down here, he had no idea, but he wasn’t about to question the man who was putting money in his pockets.
But as Terry continued his work deep within the mine, he couldn’t help but to continue to look over his shoulder.
39
Liz’s sleep was plagued with dreams. No. Not dreams. Nightmares. Nightmares that felt more real than anything that she’d ever experienced in her entire life. They were so vivid, so detailed, and no matter what she tried to do to wake, she remained tormented by the same disfigured man.
He was emaciated and decayed. His clothes were tattered and worn. But when he smiled, he exposed a single gold tooth that sparkled from the shadows that concealed his face. He stumbled toward Liz, who remained trapped in a world that she could only assume was the inside of a volcano, the heat so intense she thought her flesh would melt from her bones.
She ran, barefoot, across scalding hot black rock, the man chasing her, stumbling forward with a limp, that smile on his face, that gold tooth standing shining in the dark void that was the man’s face.
If he even was a man. The way that he pursued Liz, the way he laughed at her torment and confusion, she would have thought that he was some kind of a demon. No, that wasn’t right either. A demon was nothing more than a henchman. He was no demon. He was the devil himself, chasing Liz through the afterlife in hopes of catching her and extracting the one thing that he kept repeating to her over and over lik
e mantra.
Blood for gold.
Exhaustion finally forced Liz to a stop. She dropped to her knees, which burned from the contact with the black rock. She crawled until a boot crushed her heel. She cried out in pain and turned to find the devil with the gold tooth keeping her still, head tilted down, chuckling softly to himself.
“You will bring me what I want,” he said. “In exchange for what you took.”
Liz whimpered, trying to claw her way to freedom, but unable to do so. “I didn’t take anything!”
The devil applied pressure, and Liz screamed.
“One way or the other, I will get what I want.” The devil crouched and extended a hand that was nothing but bone, but dirty, nothing like the broken fracture that she had received from the car accident. “You will be my message to them.”
Liz jolted awake just as the hand touched her forehead, and she gasped, dripping with sweat. She could only hold herself up for a short length of time before she collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted from just keeping her eyes open.
Liz cradled her head, her brain throbbing and on fire as she tried to make sense of the nightmare, but she couldn’t.
She gathered her strength, and when she finally had enough to push her eyelids open for longer than a few seconds, she sat up and leaned back against the headboard. She frowned when she found herself alone.
Despite the sun shining through the window on her right, Liz couldn’t shake the sensation of darkness. Even though she woke from the nightmare, she still couldn’t rid herself of its feeling.
Liz pulled the bedsheet closer to her chest, ducking beneath the covers like she had done when she was Maisie’s age and she still had use for a night light. As foolish as she felt, she couldn’t shake the irrational fear that plagued her.
It had all started last night, with what she’d seen in the mine. She frowned, her mind struggling in the foggy state from her restless night of sleep to make the connection. She knew they were related. She knew she hadn’t imagined it.
