Children of the Dark

by Jonathan Janz

  We stepped onto the path single file and entered Savage Hollow.

  The forest closed around us, the day so humid that a patina of sweat formed on my arms and back. Early-season mosquitoes began to feast on me, and hordes of gnats buzzed at my ears. We’d walked for several minutes through the deepening forest before an unpleasant thought occurred to me.

  “Where’s Brad?”

  It was Kurt who answered. “His girlfriend’s,” he said with a sneer.

  “I spoke to her an hour ago,” I said.

  Eric stopped and turned, and the trail was so narrow I had no choice but to stop too to keep from slamming into him.

  “It’s time you let go of this delusion, Burgess. You have any idea what kind of girl Mia is? How experienced?”

  “You’re lying,” I said.

  His grin widened. “What do you think she and Brad are doing right now? While her parents are gone? He’s fucking her brains out.”

  My hands balled into fists. “Shut up.”

  “That make you mad, does it?” Kurt asked at my ear. “That make you mad, you puny little bastard?” He chuckled. “Hell, I guess you really are a bastard, aren’t you, Burgess?”

  A black rage swept over me, but before I could act, Kurt shoved me into Eric.

  “Get the hell off me,” Eric said gruffly and spun me around.

  Straight into Kurt’s fist.

  The punch, which caught me flush on the mouth, was so unexpected and violent that my head snapped back and I stumbled sideways into the weeds. Thorns tore at my bare arms and legs. Sizzling rods of nettles seared my calves. I started to push myself out of the snarl, but then there was a blur of movement to my left and a foot whooshed up and thumped me in the belly. I flopped down on my side and curled into the fetal position, my midsection throbbing and my breathing reed-thin.

  “Get up,” Kurt growled.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said.

  “Get up,” he demanded.

  “You don’t have to be like your dad.”

  Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say. When he grasped me by the shirt and jerked me to a standing position, his expression was absolutely homicidal.

  His fist, which felt as hard as marble, crunched against my rib cage, and before I could recover from the vicious jab to the side, he uncorked another blow, this one a looping left fist to the jaw.

  I collapsed against Eric, who shoved me forward again. Kurt seized me by the shirt and brought his face up to mine.

  “What did she do with him?” Kurt shouted.

  How should I know? I wondered.

  “Tell him!” Pete demanded.

  “Did they kiss?” Kurt asked.

  I wobbled on my feet, but I managed to put on a confused look.

  “You were with them,” he barked. “You were there both nights!”

  Pete moved up and studied me over Kurt’s shoulder. “Or maybe him and Mia were too busy making out for him to notice.”

  Everything was moving too fast. I felt like I was on some out-of-control carnival ride stuck in a continuous spin.

  “If you don’t tell me the truth in five seconds,” Kurt said, “I’m going to turn your face into hamburger. Even your stoner mom won’t recognize you. Five…”

  I tried to say something but couldn’t.

  “…four…”

  My mouth felt like it was crammed with cotton balls, but I still managed to say, “You’re talking about Chris and Rebecca?”

  He ignored me. “…three…”

  “Hold on,” I said, putting a hand up. “Just let me…”

  “…two…”

  “They didn’t…do anything,” I managed.

  Kurt shook me, his nose about a centimeter from mine. “You lying to me?”

  “Promise,” I said. “I wasn’t with them…the whole time.” I sucked in a ragged breath. “But I would know if they kissed. Chris would’ve told me.”

  Kurt turned his face this way and that, studying my battered face the way one would a priceless work of art. “And what about you and Mia? You try to put the moves on her? Or did the slut put the moves on you?”

  “Go to hell,” I said.

  Kurt’s fist crashed into my gut. I crumpled to the trail, doubled over and gasping for air.

  “Enough,” Eric said. He loomed over me. “Where did that guy grab Kylie Ann?”

  I armed moisture off my lips, and when I looked down I saw it was blood. My vision doubled, tripled, and a wave of nausea plowed through me. “Hold on,” I panted. “Just give me a second.”

  “You think Padgett’s going to give Kylie Ann extra time?” Eric demanded. For the first time, the possibility that he cared about Kylie Ann occurred to me. I peered up at him through a veil of wooziness. His expression was unreadable.

  It took a major effort, but I managed to get to my feet. The pain in my bruised stomach still prohibited me from standing upright.

  “Start talking,” Eric demanded.

  I looked around and saw the treehouse in the distance.

  Eric must’ve seen the surprise on my face. “Of course we know about it. We’ve even used it from time to time.”

  I stared at him, not wanting to believe it.

  “Look at that!” Kurt said. “Poor Burgess is mad that we know about his secret fort!”

  Eric nodded at his big brother. “Pete here’s taken at least three girls up there, haven’t you, Pete?”

  “More than that,” Pete said with a satisfied grin.

  I toiled to hide it, but the truth was, I was furious with them. Ever since we were little we’d regarded the treehouse as our private hangout, the one place where we could hide out from the world and not have to worry about adult intrusion. Or the interference of jerks like these guys.

  And now all that was shattered. It had been an illusion to begin with, but it was an illusion I would have rather clung to.

  “Tell us about Kylie Ann,” Eric said, seizing the nape of my neck. “Now.”

  In Mrs. Herbert’s class we’d studied the myth of Sisyphus, the guy who was consigned to an eternity of pushing a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll down again so he could start all over. That’s how I felt about recounting last night’s awful episode with Kylie Ann and whoever had taken her. I’d told it to Chris, Rebecca, and Barley, to Cavanaugh and his goons at the station, to Flynn and Wood in their cruiser, and now to these pricks. I was sick of it, wished it had never happened, but as I took them through the story, something peculiar occurred. Some formless memory began to squirm in the recesses of my mind. Something that might be important. Something that could maybe lead us to Kylie Ann. But it wasn’t here in the forest. It was…it was…

  “Wait a minute,” Kurt said.

  I’d gotten to the part where the kidnapper punched me in the face, and I fell silent with little regret. Talking about my failure to save Kylie Ann was my least favorite part of the story, so being allowed to delay it was fine by me. And anyway, it gave me a chance to contemplate that other thing, that inchoate memory that refused to clarify but also refused to go away.

  “Wait for what?” Pete asked.

  “I thought I heard something,” Kurt said.

  “You’re full of it,” Pete said.

  “No, he’s right,” Eric said. “I heard something too.” He nodded into the dense thicket beyond the treehouse. I thought of the legends Barley had talked about. The creature Mia and Peach claimed to have seen.

  The Wendigo.

  “Come on,” Pete said. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “Shut up for a minute,” Eric said, all his arrogance gone. “You guys feel that?”

  “Feel what?” Pete Blades answered. But now he sounded uncertain too.

  I slowly swam back to full awareness, and as I did I noticed the way all three of my attackers were glancing about the Hollow, their foreheads creased and their breathing heavy. On some level it did my heart good to see them scared out of their minds, but on a deeper, atavistic level, I’d beg
un to share in their trepidation.

  There was definitely something wrong here. Something alien to the Hollow.

  Something hostile.

  Not only had we stopped talking, the entire forest had fallen silent. No birdsong, no rustling in the underbrush.

  The fine hair on my arms stood on end, my throat went dry and dusty.

  “We’ll deal with Burgess later,” Eric muttered and amazed me by moving back in the direction we’d come.

  Pete stared at his little brother unbelievingly. “What, we’re just going to let him go?”

  “He’s not telling on us,” Kurt said. “He knows he’ll be separated from his darling little sister if he breathes one word about this. Don’t you, Burgess?”

  I couldn’t meet Kurt’s gloating face. The truth was, he was right. I hadn’t had the chance to sort it all out in my mind yet, but Pete’s claims held a sort of twisted logic. I knew he had access to the prescriptions, and though I doubted he was some sort of handwriting specialist, I also doubted he had the intelligence to make something like that up. Maybe one of his coworkers at the pharmacy had mentioned it, the suspicion that my mom was procuring her pills illegally. Whatever the case, I had no doubt at all what would happen if she was busted. I was only fifteen, Peach not even half that. In a perfect world they’d let us stay in our house with me assuming the role of parent. Or, they’d send us to the same foster home. But really, what family wanted a fifteen-year-old boy to feed? To help put through college? I even had my doubts about Peach’s viability as an adoption candidate. Didn’t most families want newborns?

  I realized with a start that I’d been left behind.

  That feeling of wrongness was stronger than ever. The sensation of being watched.

  It took all the self-control I had to not bolt down the trail after Kurt and the Blades Brothers. But there were other ways back to my house. I didn’t like taking them—I’d almost certainly end up with burs on my clothes and a serious case of poison ivy—but they’d be preferable to following my tormentors. It was entirely possible they’d decide there really was no danger and double back to beat me up some more.

  Grimly, moving as fast as I could without tripping over a rock and busting my neck, I started through the forest.

  Chapter Nine

  Nurse Peach, the Grave, the Child

  Peach and Mom were home early. I was shocked, but I was also extremely happy to see them.

  Mom’s face twisted with concern when she saw me enter the living room, where she and Peach had been playing UNO, Peach’s favorite game. “What happened to you?” Mom dropped her cards and sprang from the floor to cup my face in her hands. “Who did this?” she hissed.

  I was a little taken aback by her intensity. First of all, I’d been so happy to get out of the Hollow in one piece and so weary after having hiked through the brambles and the heat that I’d forgotten all about my face. Secondly, Mom rarely showed much concern about my wellbeing. I know how horrible that sounds, but it’s the truth. Maybe, I mused, her decision to sober up and be a proper mother really was permanent.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I said.

  “You’re not fine, Will, you’ve been assaulted.” She sucked in breath, covered her mouth in horror. “Was it the same person who took the Lubeck girl?”

  I considered pointing out to her that if it had been the same person, I’d probably be dead. Or missing one of my hands. But good taste prevailed, and I said, “Just some kids from school. I handled them okay.”

  “Looks like they handled you,” Peach said from the floor.

  I gave her an annoyed glare, but regretted it when I saw how distressed she looked.

  Mom was not to be put off. “I want names, William. We’re not going to ignore this.” She scooped the phone off its cradle.

  Under other circumstances, I would have appreciated her indignation. But the chances of my telling her who did this were roughly equivalent to the chances of my being drafted by the Cubs this summer.

  I’d have to be careful how I played this. There was no way I was going give her names, but I also didn’t want to start an argument. She was acting the way a mom was supposed to act, and I needed to encourage that. It sounds weird, but in a way I was proud of her.

  “I’m not ignoring it, Mom, but this isn’t one of those things where you call somebody’s parents and talk it out. They’re not the kind of—”

  “I’m not talking about calling their parents, Will, I’m calling the police. Have you seen your face? It looks like you’ve been trampled by a herd of buffalo.”

  I laid my hands over hers. “The police aren’t going to help, Mom. Remember how they made me walk home last night?”

  She blanched at the memory. I hated to see the newfound spark in her eyes dim a little, but she needed to give up the notion of settling this for me.

  As gently as I could, I guided her hands together and placed the phone back into its cradle. “Even if Cavanaugh weren’t a total jerk,” I added, “he’s too busy to worry about something as small as a scuffle between kids.”

  “What’s a scuffle?” Peach asked.

  “This wasn’t a scuffle, Will,” Mom said. “This was a beating.” Her expression went hard. “It was the Fisher boy, wasn’t it. Kurt Fisher and Brad Ralston?”

  “I haven’t seen them since our last game,” I lied. “Trust me, Mom, it’s no big deal.” I offered a hand to Peach. “Come on. I need help getting cleaned up.”

  “Can I be the nurse?” Peach asked, hopping to her feet.

  “As long as you don’t kill me,” I said.

  Mom watched after us, crestfallen. I couldn’t tell if it was my refusal to tell her the truth or my selection of Peach as my nurse that hurt her worse. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, but she only gazed at me with that same somber expression.

  Sorry, Mom, I thought, moving with Peach down the hallway. You can’t be absent from my life for years and then just expect to play hero again. Maybe that was cruel, but it was how I felt. Besides, Peach actually was a good nurse. Her favorite show was called Doc McStuffins, which was about a little girl who healed her stuffed animals. Peach loved to be the one to give me a Band-Aid when I needed it.

  Entering the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  Holy shit, I thought.

  I looked awful.

  My left eye was swollen almost completely shut, the lid so stretched and purpled that I feared it would simply burst and spew blood and pus all over the mirror. My lips were lacerated and crusted with blood. None of my teeth felt loose, which was something, but the ache in my nose was bad enough I thought it might be broken. One side of my jaw was so puffy it looked like I had a tumor there, and there were various other weals and cuts on my cheeks and forehead.

  No wonder Mom had been so freaked out.

  I eased down on the toilet lid and leaned back. “Close the door,” I whispered to Peach. In front of Mom I’d tried to hold it in, but now, in the presence of my little sister, I could let my guard down and express some of the massive pain I was feeling.

  “It was Brad and Kurt, wasn’t it?” Peach muttered.

  “Kurt was there,” I said. “Brad wasn’t.”

  “He beat you up by himself?”

  I glanced at her with the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “You think he could?”

  She gave me a little shrug. “I don’t know.”

  I held her wide-eyed gaze with my good eye and tried to see myself as she was seeing me. Her big brother, her hero, sitting here battered like some vanquished warrior. I was her protector, and if I could be defeated, who would save her from the monsters?

  I mustered a crooked grin. “Kurt had two friends with him. They ganged up on me.”

  Peach smiled, reassured. I almost cracked a joke at how delighted she looked but decided to let it go. As far as she was concerned, the world had been put back on its axis. Her big brother was still invincible.

  “The medicine basket’s in the cabinet,
” I said. “You’ll need a washcloth, gauze pads…whatever you can find in there.”

  “I know where the basket is,” she said loftily, but she followed my directions. I watched her fondly as she slid the basket off the shelf. It looked almost as big as she was. It was a pretty crappy system—all the medical stuff heaped in a big pile—but at least it was all in one place. She set the basket on the sink and selected a bottle of Tylenol.

  “Aren’t you gonna wash these cuts first?” I asked.

  “We have to deal with the pain,” she said as though I were the little kid and she the older sibling. “Then we’ll clean you up.”

  “Okay, Doc,” I said.

  She fiddled with the bottle for a few instants, her tongue poking from the side of her mouth. She sighed. “I can’t get the top off.”

  “Here,” I said. I twisted the lid off for her and shook out three pills.

  “Not too many,” she cautioned.

  “Right. Could you get me some water?”

  “Wait here,” she said. She opened the door and scampered out of the room. She was back a moment later with the glass from her nightstand. “You need fresh water,” she explained and dumped out last night’s supply. Refilling the cup, she handed it to me and watched me down the pills. “Why did they hit you?” she asked.

  “It’s complicated.”

  She reached into the cabinet, produced a fresh washcloth, and soaked it under the tap. “Was it about a girl?”

  “It’s always about a girl.”

  She dabbed at my bloody lips. “Why are boys so dumb?”

  “That’s not a nice word, Peach.”

  “Stupid?”

  “That’s worse.”

  “Well? Why are they so dumb?”

  I chuckled, but it hurt to laugh. My ribs felt like a rug that had been beaten for too long. “Boys are insecure.”

  “What’s inse—”

  “It means you don’t think you’re good enough, so you’re afraid the girl you like is going to find someone better. It makes you act mean.”

  In a small voice, Peach said, “That’s how Annabelle makes me feel. Like I’m not good enough.”