Red Mountain

by Dennis Yates

  Peggy gasped. She kicked herself for falling into his trap. She’d felt the warning signs and had talked herself out of taking them seriously. Now she understood why the bedroom light was on before they’d arrived. Marsh had been on the phone with him.

  Wilbur pulled the truck over to the side of the road. Peggy turned back to Connor and mouthed at him to be ready to run. She’d take his hand and they would run all the way back to the house if they had to…

  And then do what?

  Suddenly her attention was drawn toward a pickup truck moving up the road in the opposite direction.

  Walker’s pickup…

  As it drew closer she recognized the driver with the black cowboy hat. A fat wet cigar hung from his yellowed teeth.

  ****

  Peggy tried to open the door but Wilbur grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back.

  “And where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “Let go of me!”

  She struggled to free herself from Wilbur’s large hand. His skin felt like the belly of a dead fish. He grinned at her and yanked her closer. She slapped him hard across the face and it left a bright red mark.

  The blow appeared to have stung the big man. Peggy looked down and saw that Connor was huddled below the dashboard. His eyes were shut tight and his lips were trembling. He looked like he was retreating back to the place he’d been earlier.

  “Stay with me, baby…”

  Still in a daze, Wilbur reached up and touched his face with his palm. Then his hand curled into a fist and before Peggy could move out of the way it connected with her jaw. The impact sent her flying into the window behind her. She’d heard glass crack against her head. Or was it her skull?

  The cab swirled around her while she fought back the urge to vomit. She dropped her arm and grabbed Connor’s shoulder, hoping he hadn’t seen what had happened. Her jaw was numb and she tasted blood. She tried to ignore the searing headache creeping up from the bottom of her skull, knew that it was only a matter of time before the pain took control.

  She watched Marsh’s blurry form emerge from his truck. At his side she saw something long and shiny and blue-black. A rifle…

  “Please Wilbur, listen to me. Marsh is lying. He’s a lunatic and he has others following his orders. I think there is some kind of cult ritual involved. People have been murdered…”

  “That’s a tall tale if I ever heard one before,” Wilbur spat. “You mean to tell me that man out there is into some kind of devil worship?”

  Marsh was leaning against his truck and fanning his face with his hat. He didn’t appear to be in any particular hurry.

  “I don’t know exactly. He wouldn’t talk much about it. All he said was there’s no way to stop what’s happening, that this all comes from something way back in the past. You’ve got to believe me. I think there’s this poor guy named Stick who might be in danger. I’m sure he knows about the innocent people Marsh has killed.”

  Wilbur’s eyes probed her face for lies. “Did you say Stick?”

  “Yeah. Frail looking guy. Marsh had him making food for us. They treated him as if he were a stray dog. Like they could just shoot him at any time...”

  Wilbur’s eyes never left Peggy’s face. “Stick is my cousin. Been called that since he was a kid. Something to do with his bones the doctors said. He works for us from time to time, when he’s not out wandering. How in the hell did he wind up over there? We haven’t heard from him for over three months...”

  Peggy looked out and saw Marsh standing in the hot sun. When he moved his hat away from his face she saw the blisters and angry red flesh. It finally dawned on her what was wrong.

  Marsh was always the one who opened the trailer. But if Marsh is alive then there’s a good possibility Stick was the one who got blown to bits. You stupid bitch… If Marsh tells him you killed his cousin then you might as well kiss your ass goodbye.

  “I should really talk to him first before making up my mind,” Wilbur said. “I don’t know who to believe anymore.”

  “That’s not a good idea Wilbur. He’s not stable. He could decide to kill us.”

  Wilbur scratched his head and thought about it. Marsh looked at him as if to ask what was wrong.

  “Oh hell with it. I might regret this, but I’m going to take you and the boy to Wrath Butte. I’ll leave the sheriff to sort this all out.”

  Peggy sat up, amazed. “You’re taking us?”

  “Yes… Come to think of it, I probably know you better now than I do him. To be honest, I don’t know why I agreed to get involved. He never was much of a neighbor.”

  Wilbur started the truck and Marsh stepped toward them, confused by what was happening. He pounded on the driver’s window and ordered Wilbur to stop. Wilbur stomped the gas and they moved past him like a lumbering elephant. Marsh screamed obscenities and began to fire at them with his rifle.

  Taillights exploded and the driver’s side mirror was torn off the door. Wilbur swerved to make them a harder target but the truck reacted slowly.

  Next came a loud flurry of thick popping sounds from the back.

  “He’s shooting holes into my tank!” Wilbur cried.

  Peggy glanced into her mirror. Sure enough, the tank was sprouting water all over. When she turned back to Wilbur he was blinking at her with bloodshot eyes.

  “I believe you now young lady. I’m sorry I didn’t before. I just get so confused sometimes. And I want you to know that I’ve never struck a woman before in my life. I don’t know what came over me. I feel terrible.”

  “We all make mistakes sometimes. I should know better than anyone.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Some. But I think I’ll be OK.”

  There was movement in her side mirror and she leaned forward to look.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “Marsh. He’s in his truck now and catching up fast.”

  “I think we can get to the highway before he cuts us off. He can just follow us to the sheriff’s if he wants to...”

  A rooster tail of dust flew up behind Marsh’s truck. Peggy guessed he must be clocking eighty. But just before they got to the highway she saw him slow down and turn the pickup to the right. Instead of following them onto the highway, he was returning to the house. He was going back to Jan and Krista.

  You son of a bitch!

  “We have to go back!” Peggy screamed.

  When she saw Wilbur look at her everything appeared to slow down, as if they were suspended in a pool of sun-heated molasses. The back of her head exploded with pain. It felt like someone had wedged a crowbar between the bones of her skull and was trying to lift it.

  Before she passed out Connor had opened his eyes.

  He was calling her name…

  CHAPTER 38

  After packing up what they needed for Wrath Butte, Robert decided it would be best if they took Will’s pickup instead of the El Camino. If they came across some rough terrain the 4-wheel drive would certainly come in handy. They also decided to take Nugget with them since the risk of stopping by the auto shop seemed too great.

  “Won’t be long before the cops stop by here either,” Will said, stuffing a duffel bag with boxes of ammunition. “Somebody is bound to bring my name up as a friend of yours.”

  “Yeah, and then they’ll have every cop in town doing mandatory overtime to find us.”

  “Very funny. Believe it or not, I still have some friends that are cops.”

  “Doesn’t that make you feel special?”

  Robert adjusted the revolver so it fit more comfortably in the holster under his arm. Will had also provided him with several knives to conceal under his clothing. He stood up and felt the extra weight pulling at his body.

  “I feel like I’ve just been on a Wal Mart shopping spree.”

  Will handed him a thin flashlight to keep in his pocket. “Hey, I’m not just giving you this shit. You’re going to have to return it you know. I’
m keeping a list.”

  ****

  Nugget panted nervously. Will kept the truck idling a block over from where Robert’s mother lived. Having grown up in the house, Robert knew the easiest route to get to the backdoor without being seen. The sun had risen, but near the house several giant oak trees kept the backdoor in perpetual shade.

  He’d tried calling his mother to see if she was home, then decided she might just not be answering for fear of talking to another reporter or maybe she’d unplugged it all together. When they drove past the house it appeared vacant, curtains closed and a couple rolled up newspapers lying on the walkway. Robert also noted that Dan’s Lincoln wasn’t sitting in the driveway. Maybe they’d gone to help look for Peggy and Connor.

  He jimmied the screen to his old bedroom window and was inside the house in minutes. It was still mostly dark on this side of the house and didn’t quite smell the way it used to. Robert’s father was never a cologne man but his mom’s new husband was and it left a sickly sweet odor to things. Robert checked all the rooms before going up the stairs to the attic. The place smelled just the way he remembered it, a combination of mildew and dust and something else that he always associated with the old magic of the past but could never identify.

  It had been years since he’d been up in the attic, and it took him a moment to recall where his mother kept the old chest. His stepfather had taken no care in stacking his boxes of junk after moving in with Robert’s mother. After searching behind Dan’s stuff he finally found what he was looking for.

  The chest was never locked, for it had already rusted away back when his grandmother kept it stored in her leaky attic. He pulled it forward by its worn leather strap and carefully raised the lid. Reaching inside, he rummaged down through a layer of faded photographs and old leather bound books. He glanced at the photos as he dug, thinking he might get lucky and find a picture of his great grandfather Jared Horn. But he knew better than to believe this, for his father had once told him that if any pictures ever existed they had certainly burned up in a tragic house fire long ago.

  At last he came to the oblong shaped parcel wrapped in crumbling brown paper. He tore away the brittle layers until he came to the polished box. The type of wood was nothing he’d ever seen before. Depending on the angle you tilted it, the dark grain would turn from the color of blood to that of a creamy blue much like full moons in the summertime. It felt hot in his hands, and radiated such heat that beads of sweat immediately gathered on his forehead.

  He held it closer and stared at the deep engravings he’d recalled seeing when he was a child, grand wilderness scenes of mountains and glaciers, wondering if his grandfather had seen the box and why he had never mentioned it to him.

  At first you didn’t notice them, but after a few moments people and animals gradually emerged within the engravings. Robert shivered and goose bumps rose up his arms like a spreading rash. He wanted to put the box away like he’d done when he was a boy but instead he lifted the top and peered inside.

  The box was empty.

  Was the ghost lying to him?

  He stuck his fingers inside and ran them along the inside of the box as his mind lost itself in thought.

  Maybe Will was right. This is a waste of time. I should be on my way to Wrath Butte to rescue my family…

  At about the third circuit around, his ring finger struck something sharp, and he withdrew his hand. Whatever it was had drawn blood. A sliver? He picked up the flashlight and shone it inside to see what had caused it and noticed a needle like the end of a porcupine quill sticking up from the bottom. When he turned the box upside down to try and get a better look, a false bottom fell open on miniature hinges and a roll of soft white calf leather dropped into his hand.

  Robert set down the box and began to spread the long leather strip across the floor. He discovered a map of a mountain, with small dashes indicating a trail leading up a glacier to a star-shaped mark with the initials “C. M.” printed next to it. The detail of the map was amazing. As Robert traced his finger over it he started to recognize the forms of certain rock outcroppings and the winding paths of streams.

  The map was of the same glacier his grandfather had warned him to stay away from as a boy…

  ****

  They were on the highway a half hour later. Will had switched out the license plates as a precaution, although they never saw a single cop.

  As they moved eastward and up to higher elevation, the thick cloud cover that had been pushing down on Portland began to pull apart. Crows dove down to the highway and picked at the bloody scraps of road kill. Robert dozed off again, while Will talked quietly on his cell phone. After he finished and put the phone away he nudged Robert’s shoulder.

  “Wake up. I just got some info on the guy who drowned in the Tabor reservoir.”

  Robert rubbed his eyes and sat up. The bright sunlight made his head hurt. “What is it?”

  “You’re right. He’s another cousin of yours. It all checks out. And the cops think you have something to do with his family missing.”

  Robert turned his head and stared at the forest rushing past.

  “So why did Marsh choose us?”

  “Maybe it has something to do with the map. I’d bet money your cousins each had a copy of it.”

  “If that’s the case, then what is the purpose of us having fight? Couldn’t Marsh just take the map and go get what he wants without getting anyone killed?”

  Will let up on the accelerator as a state patrol car passed in the opposite direction. The deputy didn’t even turn his head.

  “That’s what’s so weird about it. It’s like you’ve been chosen for some kind of blood ritual. Whoever Marsh is working for has got to be seriously fucked up. If he’s got an agenda it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Do you think it could be someone who has held a grudge against my family for a long time?”

  “I don’t think it’s anyone outside the family that’s behind this. Why go to all the trouble? This might be crazy idea, but I think it’s somebody in your family tree who is orchestrating all of this.”

  Robert shook his head and laughed bitterly. “But it’s not possible. There aren’t many relatives left on my father’s side. Alive anyway.”

  Will’s face darkened and he chewed pensively on his lower lip.

  “What is it?”

  “I never told you about something I once saw.”

  “How long ago was it?”

  “Back when we were in Mexico.”

  “And you’re waiting until now to tell me this story?”

  “Yes, and I don’t know why. There was just so much shit happening back then. I never really believed it myself. I guess I thought I should keep it buried. But things sometimes take time to work their way back up. Like wood slivers in your hand.”

  “What was I doing during this?”

  “You were unconscious when it happened.”

  Will took a sip of coffee. The highway began to ascend Mt. Hood, not far from the gravel road that led to the house where Robert’s grandfather once lived.

  “Well I don’t remember being unconscious,” Robert said.

  “It was only for a short time Bobby. It wasn’t like you’d been knocked out by anything.”

  “Where were we?”

  “We were holed up in that hacienda. Waiting for it to get dark so we could go rescue your dad. A couple of Garcia’s thugs stood in front while the heat inside was killing us both. We were just lying on the dusty floor trying to stay quiet. Then I heard this voice, real thin, like a whisper. At first I thought it was you. But when I looked over your mouth wasn’t open and you didn’t even react when I touched your shoulder.

  “For a second I thought maybe there was someone inside the hacienda with us, and I was thinking shit, this is great, because we’ve got two assholes standing outside who’ve been ordered to kill us. But when I looked around I didn’t see anyone until I saw a shape pass many times through a shaft of light beaming do
wn from a hole in the busted roof. I thought I was just seeing shit because the thing moving in and out of the dusty light was practically transparent.

  “When I sat up and rubbed my eyes the thing stopped moving. Then just as I was about to turn back around and check on you again I saw the face of a man appear in the light, and the sight of him sent chills down across my skin despite the fact we were inside a fucking oven being slowly baked alive.

  “As you know, I’ve never been a believer in ghosts. I’m a die-hard skeptic through and through. But here was something I could see with my own eyes. So I whispered to the glimmering form, asked what it wanted. He didn’t look up. He just stared at you on the floor next to me, as if he’d known you for a long time. Then I heard him move through the dark and he started making scratching sounds at the door. I swore at him under my breath to stop what he was doing but he ignored me. Then I heard the two men outside start to talking excitedly and they began to wrestle with the broken handle of the front door.

  “They were going to kill us for sure, I thought. I tried shaking you again, but you just lay there like you were in some kind of deep trance. I aimed for the door hoping I could pick at least one of them off before they burst in with their rifles. When they finally broke inside and I could see the bright light coming in through the doorway the ghost or whatever it was attacked them, drove them back out into the light.

  “I listened to their screams as they ran off down the street. Then I heard several gunshots and things went quiet again. Later when we split up, I saw the two men lying dead in an alley. Someone had taken their rifles and stripped them of their boots and several scab-covered pigs had started feeding on the bloating bodies.

  “To this day I believe a ghost saved our lives back in that run down hacienda. Even if we’d been able to deal with those Garcia boys the noise it took to do it would have drawn more trouble than we could handle.”