His head flopped to one side, too heavy for him to support it now. “I wish Rose was here. I should have told her… told her sooner how I feel about her.”
Wake patted Rusty’s shoulder, then made his way across the courtyard to the manager’s office. He rummaged through the room by the light of the flashlight and had just picked up the first-aid kit when the whole building shook again. A tall metal cabinet fell over, nearly pinning him. He heard Rusty pleading, his voice suddenly drowned out by an explosion that threw Wake against the desk. By the time Wake got back to the café, Rusty was gone, just a long smear of blood left behind on the floor.
Wake stood there staring at the blood. Rusty had begged him not to leave, said that the logger that attacked him would be coming back, and Wake, even with all he knew, all he had seen for himself, had gone for bandages.
Wake felt a cool breeze against the back of his neck. He turned and saw that a hole had been blown through one wall, big enough to drive a truck through. Wake cautiously touched the raw edges of the opening, then stepped through and out onto the grass, the softness of the ground oddly comforting. There was nothing he could do for Rusty. Probably never had been. He could still see the pained amusement on the ranger’s face as he repeated, patch me up? The trail to Lovers’ Peak started right there, right through that wooden gate. Wake started toward it.
“Fishing is only permitted for those visitors who purchase a park fishing license!” warbled someone, the voice distorted.
Wake looked around, finally glanced up, saw a man pacing on the roof, his face covered in shadows.
“It is against the law to remove any natural objects or historical artifacts from the park grounds!” said the man, hefting a double-bladed ax.
It was Rusty.
“Rusty… Rusty, please don’t,” said Wake.
Rusty dropped down from the roof, landing as lightly as though he were made of smoke. “It is forbidden to remove rocks you may find along the river or even simple berries, sir!”
Wake backed up toward the gate, but Rusty cut him off.
“Obey the park ranger’s instructions at all times,” said Rusty, advancing on him.
Wake shone the flashlight on him and Rusty cowered, threw an arm in front of his face.
“I’m sorry,” said Wake, “I shouldn’t have left you.”
Rusty charged, the ax swooshing through the air.
Wake caught him in the glare of the flashlight, shot him. The shadow that shielded Rusty, the shadow that filled him, animated him, disintegrated in the light.
Rusty flinched, unprotected now, but came at him again. “Obey the park—”
Wake shot him again and again as Rusty stood frozen in the light, shot him until the creature who had once been a park ranger dissolved in the night, leaving only the fading echo of his voice behind.
Wake looked around and started reloading. His hands were steady as he slipped the bullets into the cylinders, steadier than he felt. He had killed Stucky, killed other Taken, but that was different. He didn’t know them. He had talked with Rusty. Seen him shyly flirting with Rose in the Oh Deer Diner that first day, noticed the way Rusty watched her over the rim of his coffee mug. A beautiful moment, the kind of thing a novelist noted, something to be used later, in a book that hadn’t been written. Wake had been there as Rusty tenderly cared for the injured dog, soothing the poor animal with his touch and his voice. Now Wake had killed him. Killed the thing Rusty had become. Wake wiped his eyes and pushed open the gate. All the tears in the world weren’t going to bring back the park ranger. He had Alice to think about now.
Wake had taken barely a dozen steps down the nature trail when the ground shook again, a monstrous roar pounding through the forest. The trees quaked as though buffeted by a storm. Just as suddenly, the forest grew quiet, utterly still, not even a breath of wind. Wake checked his watch and hurried on, the path rising steadily through the trees, past picnic tables and trash cans, trailside displays of flora and fauna, laminated maps marked with arrows saying YOU ARE HERE!
Wake kept moving. It seemed like all he had done for days now was keep moving, wherever the path leads, as long as it led to Alice. He slowed, head cocked, then stopped, his flashlight glinting on something just ahead. He walked closer, shining the flashlight across the path.
A bear trap lay in the grass beside the path, jaws wide, jagged teeth shining in the light. Rusty had warned him about old traps scattered across the forest; most of the trappers who had set them were long gone now. The trap was huge, but as big as it was, without the flashlight Wake would have probably walked right into it. Even if he managed to pry the jaws open, he’d be bleeding, his ankle broken, dragging one leg behind him. Easy prey for the Taken. Wake nudged the trap with the toe of his boot and the jaws snapped shut, the sound too loud for comfort.
Wake remembered Rusty dying on the floor of the lodge, trying to hold his guts in with both hands, whimpering for Wake to please help him. Wake hadn’t been able to do the ranger any good. He turned his head now, listening for sounds in the trees. Maybe killing Rusty after he’d become a Taken was as much of a kindness as Wake could manage. He started walking again, the flashlight beam swiveling back and forth across the trail.
Wind rippled the trees, the darkness seeming to gather itself closer around him. Wake avoided another bear trap, and then another, this one better hidden, almost invisible in the weeds.
The trail switchbacked up the mountain, finally bringing Wake to a cable car at the edge of a drop-off. A Lovers’ Peak arrow pointed down. He looked over, saw a cable stretched a couple hundred feet over a ravine to another landing below. The cable car looked rickety, with only a low railing to keep a rider from falling out. The USE AT YOUR OWN RISK, NO HORSEPLAY sign above the landing didn’t help to inspire confidence either. Wake pressed the button on the landing and the cable car slowly moved toward him, making grinding noises as it got closer and closer. If Barry were here, he’d already be talking about lawsuits and deep pockets, and owning the whole town if the thing crashed onto the rocks below.
Wake got in, closed the gate behind him, the cable car swaying now. Wake’s stomach was doing backflips that would do the Romanian gymnastics team proud. He pressed a button in the car, tightly gripping the sides as it lurched across the chasm.
CAW!
Wake looked up and saw a raven approaching on silent wings, unhurried. A few moments later there were a dozen ravens in the sky, circling overhead. He pressed the button in the car, as though that would make it go faster. More ravens now, an enormous flock of them, blocking out the stars, more of them gathering as he watched.
CAW! CAW! CAW!
The swarm of ravens swooped down at him, shadows leaking out of them, screeching, beating at him with their wings. He tried to duck, but they attacked again, and he felt one of them land on the back of his neck, tearing at him with its beak. Blood pouring from his ear, Wake cursed, turned his flashlight on the ravens, stunned to find them flaring up and disappearing, just like the Taken. He fought waves of ravens with the flashlight beam alone, killing them by the dozens, but they still kept coming, swarming the cable car, their shadows filling the night.
The cable car shuddered and came to a brief halt.
It hung there for a moment, suspended above the ravine, before something gave way and it started screeching down the cable faster and faster. Wake held on, bracing himself for impact.
The cable car hit hard, sending Wake tumbling out onto the ground, end over end, his flashlight flying. He lay there stunned for a moment, trying to breathe, the wind knocked out of him. He groaned as he got slowly to his knees, picking up his flashlight. His revolver… his revolver was gone. He looked around in panic and spotted it near the cable car. Still disoriented, Wake could only crawl toward the revolver on his hands and knees. Almost there. Almost there now…
A worn, hobnailed boot tromped on the revolver, then kicked it over the edge and into the ravine.
Wake stared at the mud-crusted bo
ot, groggy, thinking that someone should tell him that his laces were untied. Wouldn’t want to trip. He looked up…
A Taken stood beside the cable car, gripping a hand-sickle. He must have been part of a work crew in the park, keeping the trails clear, but that was before… before he had become part of the darkness. He started toward Wake, the blade of the sickle shiny in the moonlight, sharp enough to shave with.
Wake fumbled at the flashlight.
The Taken loomed over him, muttering, the sickle raised high.
Wake flicked on the flashlight, turned it on the Taken.
The darkness peeled away from the Taken, but it still had the strength to swing the sickle down—
Wake threw up his arm, a futile attempt to protect himself. There was a crack like thunder, and the Taken rocked backwards, its outlines shimmering.
Another thunderclap and the Taken erupted in light.
Wake looked over his shoulder, saw a man standing there with a pistol, smoke curling out of the barrel.
Ellen shivered as the wind kicked up. A sweater and jacket should have been plenty to ward off the chill, but it was so cold the stars looked jagged. Well, that’s science, Ellen, she told herself, you have to be prepared for anything.
Ellen wasn’t weird, no matter what the other 7th graders said. No matter what her mother said either. Her mind just turned things over differently. Which was why she now sat alone in the forest with her ears plugged, and a tape recorder beside her. Soon, Ellen would know the answer to the question: if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?
The alder trees rattled against each other in the wind like finger bones. Ellen pushed her earplugs in farther. Every time it stormed, some scrawny alders toppled over; she just had to be here when it happened, and let the recorder provide the proof if they actually made a sound when they fell.
She shivered again, the temperature falling by the second, colder and colder. Kind of creepy in the darkness, but scientists had to be brave. She turned, thought she saw something off in the trees, but there was only darkness. She rubbed her arms, trying to bring the heat back, but the cold drifted deeper inside her.
The wind rose sharply, sent the trees clattering against each other, the sound so loud she heard it through her earplugs. She wondered if that would ruin the experiment. Her teeth chattered. She wanted to leave, to get up and run home, but the cold rolled over her like an icy mist, the cold clinging and dark. Her breath was frost in the air as she stood up, knees shaking. She tried to get her bearings, but nothing looked right, nothing looked familiar. What had happened to the stars? It looked like somebody had pulled the plug on heaven—
CHAPTER 11
“YOU’RE WELCOME, DIPSHIT.”
Wake got to his feet, head ringing from the gunshot that had saved his life. He stared at the man with the gun, a swaggering local in baggy camouflage pants and a hunting vest, a Redman Snuff ballcap on his head.
“Move.” The man beckoned with the 9mm automatic. “We’re about to have company.”
“Who are you?” Wake had seen the man before…
More Taken emerged from the trees, carrying axes and iron bars, muttering snatches of words he couldn’t make out.
Something flew past Wake, trailing sparks. A smooth stick landed at the feet of the group of Taken and exploded into a blinding light. The Taken were gone, just like that.
“That punkass flashlight of yours is kids’ stuff.” The man tossed Wake a small canvas bag, started running. “Use the flares.”
“You… you can see them?” said Wake. He could hear a river roaring as he raced to keep up, the sound getting louder.
“Of course I see them,” snarled the man. “Come on, there’s more of them coming. I think you attract the bastards, Wake.”
“Who are you?” said Wake.
“The Tooth Fairy. Open wide, Wake.” The man cackled. “I been dodging those ugly things up and down the mountain for the last hour. Had a few close calls too, I’ll tell you that. This one bastard had a mallet big enough to brain an elephant. Took two flares to stop him.”
Wake recognized the man now. He was on the ferry when they arrived in Bright Falls. He recognized the man’s voice too, the voice on the phone telling Wake that he had Alice. He grabbed the man’s collar. “Where is she?”
The man pushed the 9mm gun under Wake’s chin, slowly pushed his head back. “Play nice.”
As Wake released him and he trotted toward a viewing platform overlooking a small waterfall. A sign read: LOVERS’ PEAK. “Here we are, Wake, our last stand! Keep your back to the falls and they won’t be able to circle behind us.”
“I need a gun!” said Wake, stepping onto the platform, feeling the vibration from the rushing river.
“Just do your job and maybe we’ll all get what we need,” said the man, keeping his eyes on the nearby woods.
The Taken swarmed out of the trees, pouring out of the woods in bright hunter’s vests and wool caps, in new camping gear, all of them waving something, knives and pickaxes and sledgehammers, anything sharp, anything deadly.
They acted as a team, Wake peeling away the Taken’s protective darkness with the flashlight, the other man shooting them, slamming fresh magazines into the 9mm from his vest pockets. When the Taken pressed in too close and threatened to overwhelm them, Wake would twist one of the flares, igniting it, then tossing it among them. They fought from one side of the platform to the other, charging the Taken, then retreating. All the while the river rushed past, and the waterfall roared on without interruption, oblivious to their peril.
But the man had been wrong. Keeping their backs to the falls didn’t guarantee their safety. A sickle whistled past Wake’s head, nicking his cheek. He turned and saw that three of the Taken had scaled the platform from below, and were pulling themselves up over the railing.
“Hey!” Wake shouted to the man as he turned the flashlight on the Taken.
One of the Taken hurled a hammer and struck the man in the back, knocking him down.
Wake backed up, still training the flashlight on the Taken, reached out and pulled the man to his feet. “Shoot them!”
A Taken charged Wake.
Wake twisted a flare, the flash of light blinding him. He could hear the gunshots, the man cheering himself on, but it was like being lost in a snowstorm.
“You like that?” shouted the man. More gunshots. “How’s that? A little off the top?” More gunshots. “Here you go!”
Wake saw an enormous Taken lumbering toward them, a big man in a red plaid jacket carrying a steel coal shovel.
“Do something, Wake!”
Wake reached into the canvas bag. There were only a few flares left.
The man shot the Taken as it stomped onto the platform, the shadows so thick that the bullets had no effect. “Hurry up!”
Wake set off a flare. He held it in front of him, squinting to see in the bright light, then shoved it right in the Taken’s face.
The Taken lifted the coal shovel as the flare dissolved the shadows protecting it, the hot white light eating away the darkness.
The man shot the Taken three times in rapid succession, three times in the head.
The Taken disappeared.
The only sound on the platform was the rush of water from the falls, and the two men panting for breath.
“That—that was fun,” gasped the other man, sagging against the railing of the observation platform, soaked in sweat.
“What… what are those things?” said Wake. “Where do they come from?”
“You tell me,” said the man.
“I want to see Alice,” said Wake.
“I knew you were going to say that,” said the man, grinning. “Just like I knew we were going to survive the gunfight at the O.K. Corral here. Because I read it all. You’re a hell of a writer, Wake. You’re going to bring about something glorious and terrible, once we get you some… uh… proper editorial control.”
&n
bsp; “What are you talking about?”
“Just give me the rest of the manuscript,” demanded the man, one hand outstretched. “Now.”
“You said you’ve already read it,” Wake said coolly. “Come on, smart guy, what am I going to do now?”
The man stopped smiling.
“You have a problem, then.”
“We all got problems, pal. Alice most of all.” The man held out his hand. “Give me the rest of the manuscript, and I’ll let her go. The two of you can still have a good vacation. Maybe catch Deerfest.”
“You said we,” said Wake. “Once we get you some proper editorial control. Who are you working with?”
“Smart guy, aren’t you?” Mist from the waterfall drifted over him. “Just for the record, I knew you were going to be trouble, Wake.”
“Look, I need more time,” said Wake, trying to stay calm. “Just another week.”
The man fingered the 9mm. “I’ll give you two days. After that…” The grin was back, splitting his face into two obscene halves. “Let’s just say, you don’t even want to think about what I’m going to do to wifey.”
Wake drove his fist into the man’s face, knocked him backwards. He drew back again, but the man pointed the 9mm at him, thumbed back the hammer, so angry the pistol shook.
“I wish,” the man said softly, blood trickling from his split lip, “I dearly wish we didn’t need you to finish the manuscript.”
Wake faced him, fists balled.
“Move aside,” ordered the man, waving the 9mm.
Wake didn’t move.
“Meet me at the old Bright Falls coal mine in two days. Main building. Noon.”
Wake grabbed for the gun, kneed the man.
The man grunted, punched at Wake with his free hand. “You need to give it up, Wake!”
Wake tripped him, the two of them rolling around on the ground, still fighting for the 9mm. The man smelled of cigarettes and sour beer.
“I want my wife,” said Wake, their faces only inches apart. “Give me Alice back.”
Alan Wake Page 9
