The Knowing Box Set EXTENDED EDITION: Exclusive New Material

by Ninie Hammon

  When they got to the riverbank, Jacob and Roger took off their shoes and socks, rolled up the legs of their pants and shoved Jack into the shallow water. Then they started scrubbing him, cleaning the filth off his clothes with their hands and with sand from the river bottom. Jack cried out in pain when they scrubbed his raw arms and burned legs, but they paid him no mind.

  Cole and the others used the water to clean the dirt off their own clothing and the blood off their faces and hands.

  “How did you get out?” Jack asked, then cried out in pain when Jacob Dumas rubbed sand across his injured, burned palm.

  “Jumped off the back balcony into the river,” Cole said, obviously proud of the accomplishment. “Not another soul in the world could have leapt that far.”

  When the other boys dragged a dripping Jack out of the water, Cole grabbed him by the hair and snarled into his face. “We’re going to take you to meet a friend of ours. The sight of him could scare you to death. Literally scare you to death.”

  ******

  2011

  Jack held the rifle steady, didn’t relax a muscle or move his aim from the man’s right eye until Andi was well out of grabbing range. A few seconds. If he’d been a few seconds later…

  He’d thought he had been too late. When he’d seen the man standing alone on the bluff, he’d been certain Andi was dead, and a white light had burned the world away. He’d lifted his rifle and aimed at the back of the man’s head. Nothing existed except the feel of the M4 in his hands with his finger on the trigger. He flashed on the image of Andi, limp in his arms, her warm blood soaking into his shirt that day in her classroom, and he began to squeeze.

  Then the man suddenly dropped out of his line of fire and began climbing down the side of the cliff. Jack raced to the cliff’s edge, saw the pile of hay and knew Andi must be buried somewhere in it.

  So, would he have killed the man, shot him down right there in cold blood? Jack shoved the question out of his mind. The answer might mean acknowledging a darkness in his heart that he wasn’t prepared to examine right now.

  “Put your hands on your head and slide down off that hay roll.”

  A hay roll. Two or three of them, he thought, though it was hard to tell because they’d mostly come apart, spreading hay all along the sliver of riverbank below the cliff. Andi must have jumped off into them.

  How’d she know they were there? How’d they get there? Washed out of a field in a flood? Hay rolls did float, looked like brown marshmallows bobbing in the water. And that explanation would work, except there hadn’t been a flood.

  Down below Jack, the man’s feet hit the ground. And the instant they did, he bolted. Not after Andi. Out into the river.

  “Stop! Stop right there!” Jack knew as the words left his mouth that there was absolutely no way for him to make the man stop short of shooting him in the back. And outside the white-hot glare of rage, Jack wasn’t prepared to do that.

  The man kicked off his shoes as he ran and began gliding through the water with firm, steady strokes. He obviously intended to swim across the river to the Ohio side more than half a mile away! Jack would see to it there was a reception committee waiting for him when he waded into shore there.

  Or would he? Now that it was over, that Andi was safe, were they going to go “official” with the fact that she’d been kidnapped? That he had come roaring after her—not just out of his jurisdiction but into another state?

  He stood and watched the man swim farther out into the river, no longer slicing through the water. His pace had slowed. He was tiring now, paying for the burst of energy and speed he’d used to get away from the shore and Jack. Maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew trying to swim the river. The river was sluggish, almost no current here, but still, half a mile was a long way to swim in street clothes.

  Jack called out to Andi—she’d stopped running after fifty yards. There was nowhere else to run because the cliff bank came right down into the water. He slung the M4 across his back and started to climb down the side of the rock wall to where the little girl with brown curls was walking back toward the hay rolls, her striped socks coated with sticky, black river mud. That’s when he saw it. Apparently, the man swimming in the river hadn’t seen it yet because he kept slogging slowly ahead—oblivious to the behemoth bearing down on him.

  For all their size and girth, Ohio River coal barges traveled almost silently. The engine rumble of the tug pushing them trailed a thousand feet behind the lead barge. Hidden by a bend in the river, the barge snaked out past the point like lead screwed out of a pencil. A single barge was thirty-five feet wide and a hundred and ninety-five feet long. This was a standard tow, fifteen such barges, three wide and five long, winched together with cables. Loaded as it was with Pennsylvania coal destined for the Mississippi River, it sunk at least ten feet down below the water line.

  It was useless to yell out a warning. The man was too far out to hear. Swimming at a snail’s pace now, he continued inexorably out into the shipping channel in the center of the river—oblivious to the oncoming barge.

  The man couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to think the barge would stop to keep from hitting him! The tugboat captain could not see what lay in the path of the lead barge—which was thirty-three football fields out front of him—and even if he could, it would take the leviathan two or three miles to stop.

  Jack stood where he was on the bluff and watched the silent drama. When the man finally caught sight of the barge, or maybe felt the vibration of the tug’s engines in the water, he began to swim frantically toward the Ohio shoreline. But even as desperate as he was, he was too exhausted to propel his body through the water fast enough to get out of the barge’s path. At some point, he must have figured out he wasn’t going to make it because he stopped swimming and faced the oncoming giant, treading water as it closed in. He began to yell something. Jack couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakably defiant.

  The man was likely screaming obscenities when the front hull slammed into him, shoved him down into the cold, muddy water and moved inexorably over the spot where he had been.

  Jack scanned the river after the barge glided past, rounded the next bend and slowly disappeared. He saw no sign of the man, but he didn’t expect to. His body would float to the surface somewhere downstream in a day or two. Or it wouldn’t. The Ohio had claimed many victims who had slipped down into its muddy depths, and no trace was ever found of them.

  “Uncle Jack!” Andi had climbed up the side of the cliff face during the drama. She flung herself into his arms and burst into tears. Holding her close, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit Daniel’s number. Daniel had his phone turned off. Jack left him a cryptic message. “I’ve got her, Danno. Andi’s with me. She’s safe.”

  Andi continued to hold him tight and cry. Jack slipped his phone back into his pocket and eased down onto a rock and drew the sobbing child into his lap. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped at the blood on her upper lip. A bloody nose. She'd had a bloody nose. Then he held her, rocking unconsciously back and forth, totally in the moment, relishing the feel of her and the smell of hay in her hair. Relief untied the knot that had cinched his belly so tight his muscles ached.

  “It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s over. The bad man is…gone.” She hadn’t seen what happened to him. Why add that image to her ever-growing repertoire of horrible memories. “You’re safe now.”

  She hiccupped words out between sobs. “No, I’m not. I’m going to burn up. We all are.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw it, a vision. Everybody’s going to die.”

  Then she told him about it.

  She stopped crying in the telling of it. But by the time she was finished, it was Jack who felt like crying.

  So far, Andi was two for two with visions. What she envisioned had happened. Exactly like she saw it. Twice. Was the horror she’d seen in this vision also…destined to be? Unstoppable?

 
CHAPTER 48

  2011

  Whitworth’s voice echoed in an oil drum in Daniel’s head.

  I am certain, gentlemen, without a shadow of a doubt that I am that man.

  He let his words hang out there in the air of the room. None of the senators spoke. Perhaps they couldn’t speak. Daniel had the sense that until Whitworth released his hold on the men, they would remain motionless and mute.

  “I am that man,” he repeated. “The one you’ve been looking for. I am uniquely qualified for the position. I possess the skills necessary to perform the task.”

  This time there was only the barest heartbeat of a pause, no crashing wave of silence. He continued speaking, almost interrupted.

  “But I am not the only man so qualified and skilled. There are others who could bring to this position a stellar record and a sterling character. I have no doubt that the president will find such a man to bring before you for confirmation, because I am withdrawing my name from consideration. I informed the president before I came here today to make the announcement.”

  The silence that followed his words was not an animate, almost sentient thing like before, crashing against the shores of the mind. This silence had no life in it. Without the energy Whitworth imparted, it hung dead and empty in the room.

  That’s when Daniel realized that everyone had been released, set free from whatever “spell” Whitworth had cast over them. They came back to life, reinhabited their minds and bodies without any real awareness that for the past few minutes they had been imprisoned, held totally captive by Chapman Whitworth’s power.

  With their release came the restless shuffling movements so glaringly absent before. People moved and shifted in chairs, coughed, sneezed, lived, and the surprise that flowed across the room was like The Wave flowing across a stadium.

  Senator Morrison, seated to the committee chairman’s right, was the first to find his tongue. “But why?” he asked the question almost plaintively, making it clear that he, at least, was still bound by Whitworth’s spell. Maybe every last one of them, except Senator LaHayne, had been eager to give him the rousing confirmation and endorsement he so richly deserved.

  “Because the future of this nation is far more important than the vicissitudes of one man’s fortunes,” Whitworth replied. “This seat must be filled now, without delay. I cannot in good conscience be a further hindrance to the swift resolution of this matter. My nomination and confirmation would undoubtedly cause great delay, and that is simply unacceptable to me.”

  He looked then at Senator LaHayne, who had spent the entirety of Whitworth’s remarks sitting peacefully in the chairman’s seat. To the observer, he had seemed neither positively nor negatively affected by the words. Daniel wondered if Whitworth’s spell had had any impact on him at all.

  “The chairman of this committee, the senior senator from Ohio, Thomas LaHayne, opposes my nomination. He has made no secret of his opposition, though he has not, to my knowledge, ever given any explanation for it. Apparently, he intended to present information about that opposition at this hearing. As I have said repeatedly in the past week, I have nothing to fear from any revelation he might make because I don’t have any skeletons in my closet.” He glanced down, momentarily, when he said that, and Daniel thought about what Billy Ray had said about people’s behavior when they lied.

  “Presenting that information, will, however consume some amount of time. Refuting it will take time as well. I am absolutely confident about what the outcome of all that debate will be.” He looked around at the rest of the committee. “The senator does not have the votes on this committee to prevent my nomination from going to the full senate.”

  The senator had said as much to Daniel, and now, as Daniel looked from one senator to the next, he suspected that if the vote were taken right now, Senator LaHayne’s would be the only one dissenting.

  “But there is something else we all know about the senator.” Again, he focused his gaze on LaHayne, who showed no hint of being intimidated by it. Whitworth smiled ingratiatingly. “We know that he is a man of character and determination. Though we are on opposing sides on this issue, I admire and respect the fact that the senator will not be dissuaded from a course of action when he believes he is right.”

  Whitworth shifted his gaze back in a sweeping glance that took in the whole committee and sighed almost melodramatically. “Which means, gentlemen, that he will filibuster my nomination once it reaches the senate floor.” His eyes snapped back to LaHayne. “Won’t you, senator?”

  LaHayne smiled an enigmatic smile but did not reply.

  Whitworth sat back in his chair and looked both sad and tired. “And that is unfortunate. A filibuster can drag on indefinitely. This country does not have time to wait ‘indefinitely’ for the appointment of a new justice to join the court in the resolution of the issues before us. When I spoke to the president this morning, he said he would present the name of another candidate to this committee by Monday. Barring”—he paused and focused the punch of his jibe at LaHayne—“unforeseen and unexplained opposition, the matter should come before the whole senate by the end of the week.”

  He let out a dismissive sigh. “That is all I have to say, gentlemen. Thank you for your time and consideration, but if you have no further questions, I’d like to be excused.”

  A couple of senators started to speak, but LaHayne cut them off. He rapped his gavel down once.

  “We thank you for appearing before us today,” he said, cordially. “We have nothing further to discuss. You may go.”

  And that was it. It was over.

  We won. We did it. We stopped him!

  Then Daniel grabbed his phone and switched it on. He scanned the list of messages until he came to Jack’s. He played it through three times, then lowered his chin to his chest to keep himself from bursting into tears of joy.

  ******

  1985

  Becca, Daniel and Mikey were about half a mile down Pullman Lane, the spur that would take them back to the nursing home from the north side, when they heard them. The Bad Kids were yelling and snarling at each other, making a racket you could hear long before they came into view. The three hurried into the woods and hid, then peeked out through the bushes.

  When they saw that Jack was precariously balanced on the fender rack of Roger Willingham’s bike, Becca had to stifle a cry of relief. He was alive! Until that moment she hadn’t realized that she really believed she’d never see Jack again.

  “They must have caught Jack following them,” Mikey whispered. “Why didn’t they just …?”

  “Kill him like they did all those people in the nursing home?” Daniel finished for him.

  “They must want him for something,” Becca said.

  Terror washed over her as the six demon-possessed boys drew nearer, the primitive fear that they’d somehow sense her presence in the woods and come after her. The combined horror of the monstrosities that rode by in the summer breeze was enough to stop her heart. She began to tremble, couldn’t stop shaking. But she had to. She and Daniel and Mikey had to see where they were taking Jack.

  They followed the Bad Kids through Bradford’s Ridge, as deserted as a ghost town, its inhabitants gathered around a burning hulk of a building where an unthinkable mass murder had just been committed. The whole world had seen it all, watched it live.

  The Bad Kids rode out of town on the other side and took Bethel Park Road, which followed the riverbank and then connected to U.S. 31.

  Daniel, Mikey and Becca had stayed so far behind they feared at every curve that the road in front of them would be empty—the Bad Kids taken off some direction they hadn’t seen. If Mikey hadn’t spotted the six bicycles in the bushes beside Milkstone, they’d have passed right by them.

  Named for an outcrop of pure white limestone that extended out into the river, Milkstone was a popular hangout for teenagers in the summertime because the rocks blocked the channel, and water rushing around them had formed a small, deep pool to swim
in. The mouth of an enormous cave gaped in the hillside on the shore, a hundred feet tall and probably twice as wide, blocked in the back by a rockfall. The dirt area in front of the cave opening was littered with trash, beer and soft drink cans. Inside the cave mouth were black spots in the dirt, the remains of campfires, and the roof had been blackened by smoke from generations of teenage parties. It was anything but secluded and isolated. The three of them had driven by this spot with their parents all their lives. Becca's house was on the opposite side of the mountain from Milkstone, probably not two miles away--if you moved the mountain.

  They pulled off the road into the grass and sat looking at the six bicycles.

  “At Bishop’s barbecue—this is where they wanted us to go drinking with them,” Daniel said.

  “Who did?” Becca asked.

  “Cole and the others. We almost got into a fight when we said no.”

  “Where’d they go?” Mikey asked, looking up and down the riverbank.

  “They’re in the cave,” said a voice from behind them, where no one had been standing only a few seconds ago. Becca turned to the sound of the voice, but Daniel and Mikey only turned because she did, and then they began to squint.

  As horrible as everything was, Becca still managed to smile. She wondered what the boys were thinking about the lady made of light who had appeared out of nowhere wearing a silly red-and-white striped hat.

  She turned from the woman to ask them, but swallowed the question. It was clear they couldn’t see the angel, only the glow of her that almost blinded them.

  “You can’t see it from below, but there’s a crack in the rock up there at the top,” she said, pointing to a pile of boulders that appeared to reach all the way to the roof of the cave in the back right corner.

  Becca lost her breath for a moment, the wind knocked out of her. She’d never in her life been so frightened—or so calm, both at the same time. Terror almost ate a hole in her, but she knew with the certainty of absolute truth what she was supposed to do, wondered if perhaps she had been created by God for this very moment.