Rockinghorse

by William W. Johnstone

  Lucas smiled, conscious of Tracy and Kyle sitting very still, their attention riveted unwaveringly on the man and woman. “I’ll make a wager on that, Louisa,” Lucas challenged.

  “You’ll lose,” she told him.

  “Bet?”

  “All right. But what shall we bet?”

  Lucas thought for a few seconds, then smiled. “If the remains of that rocking horse are not on that smoking garbage heap, Kyle and I will do the dishes this evening.”

  Kyle grunted. “Where do you keep the dishwashing liquid, Tracy? Me and big mouth are about to do the Ivory Soap test.”

  The rocking horse was gone. And in the bright light of the Georgia afternoon, all could see that the fire had not touched the rocking horse that had been tossed.

  The flames had burned all around the garbage pile; they still smoked. But not where the broken horse had been. Its outline gave mute testimony to that.

  Lucas stood in silence, staring at the trash heap. Then, succumbing to what he hated to hear grown men do, he said, “Somebody stole it.”

  “Oh, Lucas!” Tracy said. “You sound like some silly little boy.”

  “No one stole the rocking horse, Lucas,” Louisa corrected. “But it will be back.”

  “I don’t want the damn thing to come back!” he said irritably.

  “You didn’t want Ira to return either, did you?” Louisa countered. “But he did, didn’t he?”

  “Something did,” Lucas admitted, not really wanting to relive that awful memory.

  “Yes. Something did.”

  “Ira returned?” Kyle blurted, a confused look on his face. He had been at his fishing camp, out of touch.

  Briefly, Lucas brought the Georgia Highway Patrolman up to date.

  “Did you report . . . ah, the sighting?” Kyle stumbled over the word. Then he blurted, “Jesus Christ! ”

  “Not.”

  Louisa looked at her husband. “He might be able to help,” she said softly, causing all eyes to swing toward her. “But I should imagine it will be mostly up to us.”

  “Us?” Kyle said.

  “Yes. We are now a part of it,” Louisa explained.

  “Wonderful. I can hardly wait.”

  “Oh, it will not be a long wait,” his wife assured him.

  The small gathering had cooked ribeyes on the grill in the back yard, had baked potatoes, devoured a fresh green salad, and the adults had all had just a little bit too much to drink. Even Louisa had seemed to unwind a little, smiling more and visibly relaxing. The petite woman had a surprisingly sharp sense of humor, and despite her lack of formal education—she had left high school at sixteen, the taunting of the other children and of more than a few so-called adults as well driving her out—was extremely intelligent and very well read.

  Kyle had told Tracy and Lucas that his wife’s I.Q. was very high—over 160—and that she had taught herself to speak Spanish and French. But it worried him that she had so few friends.

  Jackie and Johnny were both tired and had gone to bed right after dinner. With much vocal supervising, Kyle and Lucas had washed the dishes. The four of them now sat on the veranda, having coffee and talking.

  “Well, honey,” Kyle said. “You’ve been wanting me for years to bring you to the Bowers’ place. Now that you’re here and have looked around some, what do you think?”

  Louisa was silent for a short time, staring out into the darkness in front of the house. No other lights could be seen, and the night lay like soft dark velvet over the land. “It’s too soon for me to say,” she finally spoke. “I feel . . . many things hovering around me. Tomorrow I would like to explore all the rooms of the house.”

  “Very mysterious lady,” Kyle grinned his remark.

  Her eyes touched him in the darkness, wiping the grin from his lips faster than an eraser on a blackboard.

  “It’s evil,” Tracy said, surprising Lucas by stepping so far out of character.

  Louisa glanced at her, her dark eyes seeming to bore into the other woman’s brain. “I see. And when did you choose that word to describe this house?”

  “About a minute ago. To say I’ve been forced into some radical thinking changes over the past month would be putting it mildly.”

  “No doubt,” Louisa said. “And you’re right, of course. The house is evil. It holds many dark secrets and is a friend to none of us. Tomorrow, with your permission, I should like to begin seeking out those secrets, exposing them to light.”

  All of them suddenly felt something clammy touch their skin, the sensation lasting only a moment before vanishing into the night.

  “Sure. But I can’t say I’m looking forward to it,” Tracy replied. She rubbed her bare arms. For a moment she had had the feeling that a roach was crawling on her flesh.

  “Nor I. But it’s the only way.”

  “When do we start telling ghost stories?” Kyle said with a nervous laugh.

  “We’re living one,” his wife replied.

  No one laughed.

  Lucas glanced at Kyle. “Kyle, have you ever heard of something called the Brotherhood?”

  The man was thoughtful for a moment. “Now that you mention it, yeah, I think I have. Now where have I heard that?” Once again, he was silent, deep in thought. “Yeah,” he said very softly. “Now I remember. My dad—no! My granddad. Now what did he say? Oh, yeah. You see, my granddad was sheriff of this county for a long time. He told me once that . . . let me get this straight in my mind. He told me that compared to the Brotherhood, the KKK was a bunch of angels. I asked him what he meant, and he said he hoped to God I never had to find out for myself.”

  “Can you recall anything else?” Lucas asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s dim. OK, I got it. He said if they—I guess he was talking about the Brotherhood—ever got a toehold into the churches, look out, ’cause they would then soon control the entire county.”

  “I wonder if they did?” Tracy asked.

  “Did what?” Kyle looked up.

  “Get a toehold in the churches?”

  “Damned if I know, Tracy. I think that’s all my granddad ever said on the subject. I was just a boy when he died.”

  “How did he die?” Lucas asked.

  “Shot from ambush. The family figured it was some moonshiners that got him. Granddad got tough on illegal whiskey making.”

  To paraphrase Johnny, Lucas thought, lots of “good guys” got killed in this county. And something else: I can’t get over how Sheriff Bill Pugh just “happened” along in the nick of time. “You don’t know what they are?” Lucas asked. “The Brotherhood, I mean. What they represent; anything more about them?”

  “No,” the trooper admitted. “Compared to the Invisible Empire, the Brotherhood is as silent as a snake. I’ve heard bits and pieces concerning them all my life. You know, kids talking; that type of thing. Nothing concrete. Hell, Lucas. I haven’t heard a word about them in years; not until you just now brought it up.”

  “They represent evil,” Louisa said. “I have an uncle who belongs to the Brotherhood. I hate him. Oh, he has never come out and publicly admitted his membership—but I know. The same way I know a lot of things others don’t. The Brotherhood worships everything that is evil, but not necessarily Satan—although the Dark One is certainly a major part of the Brotherhood. To make matters worse, the Brotherhood professes a deep belief in the Lord God; that is how they sway their converts. What makes the Brotherhood so insidious is that no one knows whom to trust. The deacons, the elders—even the minister of a church—might be a part of the Brotherhood.”

  “But what are they?” Tracy asked. “What is it they want?”

  “Your soul,” Louisa replied.

  Once again, that clammy sensation touched the people on the veranda.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Kyle said.

  “Be careful that you’re not,” his wife warned him.

  The soft night suddenly turned cooler.

  * * *

  “You must come with us,”
the voice boomed in Jackie’s head. “It is time for you to learn more about us.”

  This time the girl sat straight up in bed, wide awake. She knew the voice belonged to Randolph. She said nothing.

  “That is good. You remember that I can read your thoughts. Do you remember that?”

  Yes.

  “Will you come?”

  I’ll get in trouble if I do.

  “Yes,” the voice stated honestly. “You probably will. I cannot lie to you. This trip will be very dangerous, both for you and your brother. But it is a crucial one.”

  Anna is talking to him?

  “At this very moment.”

  Where will we be going? That is, if we decide to go?

  “To the Gibson house.”

  No way!

  “But you must.”

  Why?

  “To learn. Come on. I am waiting near the edge of the woods.”

  The voice faded. Jackie sat in the middle of her bed, deep in thought. Then, reluctantly, she slipped from the warmth of the bed and dressed. Jeans, tennis shoes, long-sleeve shirt. She slipped quietly into the hall, closing the door behind her. In the hall, she glanced at her digital wristwatch. The luminous dial read 12:00.

  She shallowed her breathing as she sensed someone, or something, in the hall with her. She almost fainted when she bumped into a warm body.

  Johnny.

  “Jesus!” he whispered hoarsely, his breathing ragged. “God, Jackie! You almost scared me half to death.”

  “You? Why didn’t you warn me you were out here waiting?”

  “What did you want me to do? Blow a bugle? Are we really going through the woods to that . . . place?”

  “I think we have to. But I’m sure open to sugges-ton.”

  The boy said nothing.

  “OK. Come on before we both chicken out.”

  “I won’t if you won’t.”

  As they slipped through the dark hall and into the kitchen, they paused, listening. Nothing. They quietly opened the door and eased out onto and then past the veranda. They were not aware of dark eyes watching them from the house.

  Louisa looked at the form of her sleeping husband. She looked at the clock-radio on the nightstand. Midnight. The witching hour, the thought came to her. She hesitated for a second, then shook her husband awake.

  “Whaissit?” he mumbled, still more asleep than awake.

  “Jackie and Johnny just left the house. They ran into the woods behind the mansion.”

  That brought the man wide awake. “Jesus! What time is it? Why in the hell would they do something like that?”

  “It’s midnight. I think they’ve been contacted by someone.”

  Kyle jerked on his trousers and stuck his feet into loafers. Then the full impact of what his wife had just said struck home. He looked at her. “Louisa, there is no way they could have been contacted. There are no phones out here.”

  “I think they have been contacted by the unseen ones in the forest.”

  Kyle groaned. “Oh, come on, Louisa. Don’t start with that stuff.”

  She was used to that, so she ignored his comment. “Come on,” she jerked at his arm. “We have to tell Lucas and Tracy.”

  “I’m not lookin’ forward to that.”

  “Nor I.”

  * * *

  “They’ve gone where?” Lucas asked.

  Tracy was quietly cursing.

  “I don’t know where they’ve gone,” Louisa said. “Their true destination, I mean. But they both ran into the woods about two or three minutes ago. I couldn’t sleep and was looking out the bedroom window.”

  Lucas began cussing, not so quietly.

  “We’ll wait in the hall while you both get dressed,” Kyle suggested.

  Every light on the floor blazing, the quartet gathered in the kitchen. No more than four minutes had passed since Lucas and Tracy had been alerted.

  “Tell them what you told me,” Kyle asked his wife.

  “I thought you didn’t believe?” she challenged him for an answer, one way or the other.

  “I believe! I believe! Come on, we’re wasting time.”

  She smiled, knowing she had won a victory. “I believe they were contacted by the little people. The unseen people who live in the forest.”

  “Dear God!” Tracy said, her face paling. “Not the Woods’ Children again.”

  “What?” Louisa’s voice was very sharp.

  Quickly, Lucas told them both about the kids’ claims.

  Louisa smiled as she grabbed onto Kyle’s arm. He stood like a oak tree, a patient expression on his face. “You see!” she cried. “I told you they were real.” She turned to Lucas and Tracy. “You see, I saw them as a child. I can tell you all their names, what they look like, and how they are dressed. My parents ridiculed me, just like you did your children. But the Woods’ Children are very real—very real.”

  The lights of a car swept the estate grounds, the sounds of tires crunching on gravel, sliding to a halt. Kyle looked out the window.

  “Burt Simmons,” he said. “In one hell of a hurry. I’ll see what he wants. He must have checked with my HQ for my 10-20. You want me to tell him anything about the kids?”

  “No,” Lucas said. “I don’t trust him.”

  “He is a wicked, depraved man,” Louisa added. “But there remains some good in him.” She would say no more.

  All agreed with the first part, none with the latter.

  Kyle was back in a moment. He appeared visibly shaken. His hands were trembling slightly and his face was pale.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucas asked.

  Louisa looked into her husband’s eyes. “It’s about Ira Bowers, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about my brother?”

  “You know he was buried yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yes. In the family plot outside Palma. I . . . elected not to attend. Hell, no point in lying about it. I wasn’t informed. If I hadn’t driven into town and asked who died, I wouldn’t have known. It surprised me that he would be buried so quickly after a shooting. I expected some sort of prolonged investigation.”

  “Yeah, it surprised the hell out of me, too,” Kyle said. “There is something really weird about it. But. . . ah, . . . that isn’t why Burt hunted me down.”

  “Give it to me, Kyle,” Lucas said.

  “The body is gone.”

  Lucas felt the blood rush from his face. The gruesome events of the past night returned to him in vivid, living color. “Somebody dug him up?”

  “Ah . . . no, Lucas. That’s . . . not exactly what. . . . Bad choice of words,” he muttered.

  “Then, what?”

  “From the pictures I just looked at, it seems the grave was . . . ah . . . dug from the inside out.”

  15

  “I’m scared shitless, Jackie,” Johnny said to his sister. “And these woods are spooky.”

  “Join the club, brother,” she replied, catching a branch that Johnny ungentlemanly let pop back, almost whapping her in the face. “Didn’t Anna tell you she would be waiting in the woods like Randolph told me?”

  “Yeah, she did. But where are they?” He didn’t want to admit he was lost.

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t want to admit she was just as lost as Johnny.

  “Look to your right,” the voice drifted through the dark woods.

  Both kids almost peed their pants. They glanced to the right and could see the dim but sparkling outline of . . . something. Looked like Randolph.

  “Follow me,” the voice called. The sparkling shape began traveling through the thick timber.

  “Is that Randolph?” Johnny asked.

  “Sounds like him. Come on. We’ve come this far. Might as well go on. We sure can’t get into any more trouble at home.”

  “It isn’t home I’m worried about,” her brother admitted.

  “Yeah,” Jackie said.

  The dark seemed to swallow them, draping them in a cloak of ink. The shapes of shr
ubs and bushes and small scrub trees now appeared something more than what they were. The branches seemed to grasp at the kids as they struggled through the ever-thickening timber. Creepers clutched at their ankles, like squirming snakes, eager to trip them, to trap them, to hold them forever in the darkness.

  And the sparkling form stayed in front of the kids, too far to touch, just far enough so the kids could keep it in sight.

  Jackie and Johnny followed, nearly out of breath and sweat-soaked. Followed not so much out of choice, but out of necessity. For they were both hopelessly lost. And going back would accomplish nothing. They were lost in the deep timber either way they went.

  “Wait!” Jackie finally cried.

  The dim form stopped.

  “I have to rest,” Jackie said.

  “We both have to rest,” Johnny said. “Just cool it for a minute.”

  Laughter reached them. But the sparkling shape remained stationary.

  * * *

  “There is no point in us stumbling around in the timber in the dark,” Kyle said. “We’d be lost in ten minutes. These woods run for miles. And just a few miles from here, Lucas, it gets wild. Sometimes the military sends special troops to train in here.”

  Tracy was crying softly. Louisa put her arms around the woman. “I think they have gone to the Gibson house. Why, I don’t know. But I believe they have been misguided by someone . . . they think to be friendly.”

  “Louisa,” Kyle said, “you stay here with Tracy in case the kids double back. Lucas and I will head for the Gibson house. Use my car. If need be, I can radio in for help.”

  The kids had gotten their second wind and were pushing the sparkling shape. They had lost their initial fear and adventure now held them firm.

  “There it is!” Jackie said, pointing, the first to spot the lights shining through the woods.

  “Where’s Randolph?” Johnny asked.

  They looked around them. The sparkling shape was nowhere to be seen.

  “Listen!” Jackie whispered.

  A very faint chanting sound came through the timber, reaching the now-alert ears of the kids.

  “What is that?” Johnny asked.

  “It’s in some foreign language,” she replied. “I think it’s Latin. I think. Come on, let’s get closer.”