The shivers that went through me, I also kept to myself.
Chapter 12
I like to think my mother had just been wrong, and that she hadn’t outright lied to me. That maybe she’d even heard wrong herself. But, if she did know the truth and just chose to tell me otherwise, I guess I couldn’t blame her. She was only protecting her baby boy. A boy who, after this latest decision, obviously needed protecting. From himself.
As soon as the dilapidated building could be seen through the trees, Dallas hit the brakes before I even had to say anything. Good. We were on the same page. Still, my pounding heart took a break long enough to leap up into my throat. The dingy white church was just emerging from the trees as the sheltered driveway gave way to a muddy parking lot.
Suddenly, the Jeep’s air-conditioner must have stopped working, because the air inside it turned stifling. A chilly sweat broke out on my skin. The images I’d tried so hard and so long to forget all started flooding my mind. I couldn’t stop them as they played on a reel, one right after the other like an old silent film. Only these images weren’t black and white. The colors were just as vivid as when I’d first seen them. Over and over they played as my breaths started coming in short, rapid bursts. I jumped when I felt Claire’s calming hand come to rest on my shoulder.
“I’m alright,” I said, but I doubt she believed it. I didn’t.
After shifting into reverse and backing the Jeep to where it would be mostly obscured by a trio of pines, Dallas shut the ignition off. For a quiet moment, the three of us just sat there, staring through gnarled branches at an old abandoned church that held entirely too many bad memories for me to have returned. But I knew why I had come, and even though the voice in my head was saying, ‘Dude, this is a bad idea,’ I also knew that I didn’t come all this way just to turn back at the parking lot.
I started the process to control my breathing. Taking air in slowly through my nose, I counted to four, then released it even slower out of my mouth to a seven count. I repeated these steps several times until I could feel myself start to relax.
“Ho-ly shit,” Dallas muttered, then pursed his lips and whistled. “If the inside looks anything like the outside –”
“Believe me,” I said, not allowing him to finish the thought, “it’s much worse.”
Although I’d been here before, this was my first time seeing the church in the daylight. The once-white clapboard building was now a dull dirty color, similar to stagnant dishwater. Streaks of dark grey wood showed through where the paint had cracked and peeled. Last time, there had still been at least a few of the black shutters remaining, but now the church was bare of them. They lay in the grass beside the building like they simply couldn’t hang on any longer. Sheets of weathered plywood covered the windows like Band-Aids, and when I realized it might be as dark as night inside if all the windows were boarded, a few ounces of dread trickled into my stomach.
I couldn’t help it. As much as I tried to focus on the church itself, my eyes were drawn to the rubble that used to be the storage shed that stood at the rear of the church. The place where Garrett took his last breath was now only a pile of broken wood and tin. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about someone destroying it. But then I realized I was only disappointed that someone else got the pleasure of doing so.
“I don’t see any openings,” Dallas said, snapping my attention back to the main building. “Even if someone is inside, we should be able to approach from the front undetected. Especially on foot. Just be on the lookout for any kind of tripwire or homemade alarm system.”
Somewhere down deep, I felt myself smile. Dallas’ combat instincts were kicking in, and I was happy for it.
“Well,” I said, once my breathing had returned to normal, “we didn’t come all this way just to look at the damn place.” I first looked back at Claire, who smiled softly, yet uncertainly, and then to Dallas.
“Did you bring it?”
Dallas nodded his head.
“In the glove box in front of you.”
I reached up and pulled the silver handle on the black dashboard. The door sprung open like everything inside needed air, and there among stacks of paper that could have been anything from fast food napkins to parking tickets laid a handgun, its finish black and dull.
“Colt M1911,” Dallas said. “Forty-five cal, semiautomatic. The very gun I used in ’Nam. She’s old, but still operates as smoothly today as she did back then. I’ve got others, newer 9mms and such, but I’ve never gone into battle without Prudence here. Never will.”
Ignoring the obvious question, I reached into the dark space and pulled out the first handgun I had ever held. Its weight surprised me as I looked it over. It was much heavier than I expected, easily a couple pounds. When I recognized that I was doing a bad impression of someone who knew what they were doing, I handed the gun over to Dallas. The smile on his face caught me off guard. I wasn’t sure if it was pride, or the sheer fact that he hoped he would get a chance to use it today. Or should I say “her.”
Without any further discussion, Dallas opened his door and stepped out.
I looked back at Claire one more time.
“No turning back now,” she said, with that ever present smile. It was working overtime to convince me everything was going to be okay.
Opening the door and stepping out onto the soft ground, I hoped like hell it was right.
Chapter 13
The air had an earthy smell to it, the kind a fresh rain leaves behind. Standing beneath a tangle of tree limbs, I breathed it in like I was standing in line at Cinnabon. I could hear an occasional raindrop falling from one branch to another, and a small animal scurried off toward a clump of bushes. I took a moment and let the soothing atmosphere of the woods envelope me.
Things would be changing soon enough.
“Alright,” I said once Claire had climbed out of the back seat and I could shut the door, “here’s the deal.”
We gathered together in front of the Jeep like kids huddling to call a play in a game of schoolyard football. It was the same kind of planning session, I guess, but I stopped short of telling either of them to go deep.
“We stay together as much as possible,” I continued. “Nobody goes off exploring on their own. At the very least, we stay within eyesight. Okay?”
I got nods of understanding in return, and that was good enough. They knew what I was asking of them, and more importantly, I was pretty sure they knew why.
“No tire tracks,” Dallas said, scoping out the overgrown parking lot from where we stood. “That’s a good sign. In fact, doesn’t look like another vehicle’s been through here for quite some time.”
Claire and I both agreed that, yes, it was indeed a good sign.
“Well, then,” I said. “If nobody’s got any questions...”
We broke the huddle and started making our way along the grassy edge of the parking lot. Here we were: the scared kid with way too many reasons not to be here, but one very big reason to be; his smart and beautiful, red-headed girlfriend who ignored the dangers and insisted on being there for moral support; and the Vietnam vet with a graying ponytail, a closet full of tie dye and an eager handgun named Prudence tucked into the back of his jeans.
We were quite the team.
Dallas made a beeline for the front door where crime scene tape crisscrossed over it like a yellow spider web. Through the mass of plastic strips, I could see a silver chain wound through the door handles. I started to say something to Dallas, but stopped myself. It wouldn’t hurt for him to take a look, just to make sure it wasn’t there for decoration.
And it wasn’t. After a moment, Dallas came down off the stoop shaking his head and falling in beside us.
With an occasional glance up at the boarded windows, we continued around the near side of the building just as the sun started to peak over the top of the trees. The day was supposed to be a hot one, and the sun would be beating down on us soon enough. It was just one more reason to get int
o the church, and I needed all the reasons I could come by to get me to step foot in that building again.
Staying as close to the building as possible, we made our way across the front of the church, tromping through tall grass and overgrown flowerbeds littered with more weeds than anything. As soon as we turned the corner, my eyes were once again drawn to the pile of rubble that had been the tool shed. As its magnetic force pulled me in, Claire and Dallas followed closely behind.
“What is it?”
I left Claire’s question unanswered, just as if I hadn’t heard it. I didn’t know how to answer her without bringing her unnecessary pain. Garrett had been her friend, too, and I didn’t want to tell her that this was where he’d died. Where he’d suffered. Where I left him.
Eventually, I found myself standing before the carnage with Claire and Dallas beside me, none of us saying a word. It seemed they were content to remain quiet, to leave me alone with my thoughts. They may not have known why this pile of wood was important, but somehow they knew that it was. I appreciated both their silence and their understanding.
There were so many thoughts vying for attention in my cluttered mind, I didn’t know which one deserved my focus more. I thought about Garrett, and what I’d learned of his time spent in the shed. Regret reared its ugly head, reminding me how I had run right past here when I was escaping that night. The police had told me that it wouldn’t have mattered, that he was probably already dead at that point. They assured me there wasn’t anything I could have done, and I wanted to believe it. I really did.
The pile of damp wood and thin, rusted sheet metal, triggered a flurry of what-ifs spinning through my mind. They gave up only when something in the pile caught my eye. I knelt to get a better look, finding that a few of the boards were black on the ends. Someone had tried to light them on fire. The beginnings of a smile crept up and lightened my mood. I thought that was a hell of an idea. Despite their lack of success, I was grateful for the vandals’ attempts, whoever they were. I couldn’t have wished for any better way to wipe that shed from existence. Then a thought came to me as I rose to my feet.
“You wouldn’t have any matches on ya, would ya?” I asked Dallas.
“Even better,” he said, pulling something from his pocket. It was an old, silver Zippo that you had to open the lid on before you could strike it. “Haven’t used it in a long time, but I still carry it around. It was my father’s. Gave it to me the day I shipped out for the Army. More of a souvenir now, I guess, but it still lights.”
To prove his point, he flipped the lid back with his thumb, then pressed down on the little wheel. It took two tries, but the flint finally sparked and blue flame shot up from the lighter about an inch. I watched it dance for a few seconds, my mind racing with thought, until Dallas flipped the lid closed again. He handed me the warm lighter, and I said thanks before sliding it into my front pocket. In the three months I’d been working for Dallas, I’d never seen him smoke a cigarette. So the fact that he carried a lighter only added to my speculation that he occasionally smoked a little marijuana. But I had long ago decided that it wasn’t really any of my business. I just found it interesting.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll give it back when we leave.”
“No problem,” he said.
After a few more minutes, when I felt like our standing there staring at the pile was bordering on ridiculously unproductive, I turned away. That was when I noticed the piece of plywood covering a window that was low to the ground. It took only a fraction of a second to realize that not only was it covering a basement window, but it was also the very window I had climbed out of when escaping a year ago. There had only been one.
With a last glance at the rubble at my feet, I turned and walked over to the boarded up window. The grass was still wet from the rain the day before, and my tennis shoes were soaking it up like thirsty sponges. I used the toe of my shoe to nudge at the piece of plywood. As I expected, it didn’t budge. Bending down, I noticed that eight very stout screws were holding it in place. Straightening back up, I couldn’t help but stare at it. My thoughts returned to that night, and my chest felt like it was being compressed.
Apparently, I stood there too long because Claire finally broke the silence.
“It’s okay, Luke. There are other windows. Maybe another will work for us.”
“That’s not it,” Dallas said before I had a chance to speak. “There’s something significant about this one, ain’t there, Chief?”
I thought about my answer and whether I wanted to voice it. But then, I figured it didn’t hurt to let them in on a few things. They’d probably earned that much. They were here, after all, supporting me and wanting to help. So with a deep breath and tears pooling in my eyes, I shared with them the significance of the basement window.
Chapter 14
All of the church’s tall stained-glass windows were covered with similar sheets of plywood. Some were held in place by only a few screws, thrown up haphazardly, while others covering more accessible windows were hung with enough screws to hold a two-story house together. Somebody really didn’t want anyone getting inside. Odds were it was the local police wanting to keep out teenagers and local thrill seekers. Whether it was working or not, we would soon find out.
The back door was also secure, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at it. It appeared normal enough, like we should be able to just open the door and walk right in, which Dallas tried to do. But I remembered how Barnes had barricaded it from the inside with wood planks, and was fairly certain we weren’t going in through there. That is, unless someone had seen a reason to take them all down, and considering the lengths they had gone to in keeping people out, I couldn’t think of a reason good enough.
Finally, as we made our way around another corner and checked the far side of the church, it was Claire who discovered a way into the highly-secured church.
“This one’s not screwed down,” she said, looking up at one sheet of plywood in particular. Proving her point, she gave it a shove, and the bottom of the plywood swung from side to side. All of the screws except one in the very top center had been removed, leaving the illusion of it being secure for anyone who didn’t take the time to investigate further.
My already jittery nerves went on high alert. Not only was there a way in and out of the church, someone was secretly using it.
Moments later, as the three of us stood peering through a busted out window into the church’s darkened sanctuary, it was Dallas who broke the mesmerizing silence.
“Got a flashlight in the Jeep,” he whispered. “Not sure why I didn’t just grab it in the first place. I guess I figured we’d be able to see since it was light out. Be right back.”
He disappeared around the corner, causing a wave of déjà vu to come over me. Only it wasn’t just a feeling, I really had been here before when Garrett took off, exploring on his own. It wasn’t the first worrisome thing that happened that night, but up to that point, it was the biggest. Standing on the stoop of an abandoned church in the middle of a God-forsaken forest, a storm of Biblical proportions was bearing down, and I stood alone amid the darkness. I had no idea where Garrett had gone, and no one had any idea where I was. For all intents and purposes, I could have been lost to the world. The only differences this time were that I knew where Dallas had gone, and that he was planning on coming right back. I didn’t have that luxury that night. It was one of the very few times I could remember getting angry at Garrett.
Dallas didn’t take long, thankfully. The poor guy must have run to the Jeep and back, knowing full well I was already unnerved. Or, maybe it was his excitement that propelled him.
“Alright,” he said, breathing a tad harder than when he left, “who’s up first?”
The smile on his face told me all I needed to know. The guy was actually excited about the adventure that loomed ahead, eager to get started. I couldn’t fault him, I guess. Having to sit on all that military training for all these years must have been hard.
Whereas I, on the other hand, had no military training, nor was I excited about what might or might not be waiting for us on the inside.
“After you,” I said.
Chapter 15
Shards of colorful glass crunched under the soles of our shoes as we found ourselves inside the pitch-black sanctuary. Ironically, pitch black was just the way I remembered it. Within seconds, the layout of the church’s interior came back to me, and I started placing where things were located. After taking a few moments for our eyes to adjust, Dallas found a broken armrest from one of the wooden pews and used it to prop open the sheet of plywood.
The ray of sunlight coming through the open window provided a moderate amount of light. Yet it still wasn’t enough to light up the room. Once a couple of steps away from the window, we would need Dallas’ flashlight and the light from our cell phones to navigate our way around.
The smell, though, was something no amount of light could chase into the shadows. A mustiness hung in the air like sweaty gym shorts left in a locker over summer break. I considered the fact that the roof probably leaked, causing the inside of the church to stay damp long after the rain stopped. The funk wasn’t overpowering, just unpleasant, and only added to the building’s overall atmosphere.
As Claire and Dallas stood patiently beside me, I struggled to decide where to begin. Obviously, the basement was calling out to me as if I had unfinished business there, but I wasn’t sure that’s where I wanted to start or end – at least not literally. My pulse quickened at the very thought of the room below and the one thing I was completely sure of was that, even though I’d never used one before, I wished I had a gun tucked in the back of my jeans, too.
As I sensed the impatience of the others becoming as stifling as the sanctuary, I finally made a decision.
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