“Sorry,” he said.
“Oh my God,” Emily said, bending down to look at the statues. “Ike and Maria. Jesus, no! Everyone’s been turned to stone.”
Soren examined the tent, the noise of the snakes a little softer than outside. Being so near them was a risk. If they decided to break from the mine and attack, Soren, Glen and Emily would be overwhelmed in seconds. But so far, at least, the snakes appeared to be uninterested in the three of them. Soren hoped it would stay that way.
The tent was reasonably spacious, held up by four large metal tent poles. There was a small cot on the far right, and a couple of folding tables set up in the center. On the top of one was an electric lantern and a collection of papers. Soren went over to them and immediately started rifling through.
“What are you doing?” Glen asked.
“Seeing what happened,” Soren said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Glen said. “They opened up the mine and let the fucking thing out. Then it attacked them and the town.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Soren said.
He shuffled the papers until he found the drawing of the gorgon that Emily had mentioned in the church. She’d described it as a doodle, but it was far more detailed than that. And it was hideous. It was just a charcoal sketch, but Soren could see the scaly skin around her face, the intensity of her stare and the snakes thrashing in her hair.
“Ugh,” Glen said behind him. “That is one ugly monster.”
And yet looking at the drawing, Soren could tell that the artist who drew it didn’t agree. There was a softness to the way it was sketched, something almost imperceptible that suggested the artist didn’t hate the gorgon; he loved it. Cleary’s relationship to the monster he’d possessed was obviously more complicated than Soren knew.
Soren put down the drawing and leafed through other papers.
“We shouldn’t stay here,” Emily said. “It’s not safe. What are you looking for, exactly?”
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Soren said.
He flipped through more notes on the Carnival of Stone and handed a stack to Glen.
“What am I trying to find?” Glen asked.
“Anything useful,” Soren said.
Soren continued looking through the stack of papers on the table, trying to locate something that would support his gut. Professor Peterson worried Soren. Emily had been very clear it had been the professor’s idea to come out this way. How much did he know about the Carnival of Stone? And the book of Greek myths she’d mentioned; was Peterson taking the idea of a gorgon seriously? Soren knew from personal experience that people dismissed the idea of the supernatural. Peterson shouldn’t have given it a second thought.
Unless he found more in those letters than just references to statues. Maybe he’d found more than the drawing of the gorgon, much more. Enough that Peterson came to believe the gorgon was still out here.
“Oh shit,” Glen said.
Soren turned to him.
“What?”
Glen was staring at an old photograph. He looked startled to see Soren focused on him.
“Nothing,” he said, seeming embarrassed. “Just an old photo of the Carnival of Stone. Was just kinda shocked to see what it looked like.”
Glen held it out to Soren to glance at. It was a photo of a crowd of people intermingling with dozens of statues. There were only a few faces that were in focus, including one of a young man staring out at the photographer with a mixture of confidence and pride. Glen drew it back hurriedly and tucked it into his pocket.
“It’s nothing, but I bet Terry would like to see it,” Glen said. “He did a lot of research on this place.”
Soren briefly wondered if they were stealing evidence, then decided it didn’t matter. He returned to his stack of papers. There were far too many for him to properly search. When he picked up one pile, however, a small red leather book fell out.
He picked it up and flipped it open to the first page. It seemed to be Professor Peterson’s diary. Soren scanned its entries quickly. Many of them seemed to be about school work, some new girlfriend he appeared infatuated with and a thousand other random items Soren didn’t care about.
About halfway through, however, he found the entry he was seeking. It was only two sentences, but took up a single entry dated two months ago.
“I believe the gorgon is real,” it said. “And now I know where to find it.”
“Son of a bitch,” Soren said.
“What?” Glen asked.
“He knew,” Soren said. “He knew what was out here.”
He turned to Emily who was staring at him with her striking hazel eyes.
“The professor set you up,” he said.
She looked confused.
“What?”
“Terry… the guy who sent us here… he thought Cleary controlled the gorgon,” Soren said. “That somehow he hatched it and it worked for him, turning people to stone.”
“That’s crazy,” Emily said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“Is it? You know now that something can turn people to stone, and Cleary knew it too. Since the thing didn’t harm him, he must have had power over it. Look at this entry. The professor clearly agrees. He believed there was a gorgon here.”
Glen looked at the entry, but shook his head.
“Okay, it proves he knew it was out here,” he said. “That doesn’t mean he’s working with it. Maybe he thought he could capture it.”
“Think about it,” Soren replied. “The phone lines are dead and the power in town is out. Do you think the power just shut off by itself? Or that a gorgon trapped in a mine for decades just happened to cut the vital infrastructure to the town?”
Glen opened his mouth to retort and then shut it.
“Holy shit,” he said. “You’re right.”
“No,” Emily said. “He’d never do that. He was a good man. He wouldn’t have led us all up here to die.”
“Then come up with an alternate explanation,” Soren said. “Someone with way more knowledge of the outside world has been helping the gorgon and ensuring nobody else comes to help. It gives me another thought, too.”
“What’s that?” Glen asked.
“To stop the gorgon, we’ve got to stop the professor,” Soren said. “I don’t know why he would drag his own students here and attack the town, but he’s behind it. If we can stop him, we might have a chance to stop the creature once and for all.”
“Or it will just kill us,” Glen said.
“Or that, yeah.”
Without warning, a middle-aged man with a black beard and a fairly substantial beer gut opened the tent flap and stepped inside. Soren hadn’t seen a photo, but he immediately knew who it was.
“Dr. Peterson, I presume,” Soren said.
The man didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he raised the shotgun in his hands and fired.
Chapter Ten
It was Glen who saved their lives.
He’d seen the gun as soon as the man entered the tent. He didn’t waste time trying to duck, but jumped forward and shoved the statue near the entrance to the tent. It teetered over just as the professor raised the shotgun, slamming into him as the gun went off.
The shot went wide, blowing a hole in the right side of the tent. The sound of the blast was deafening in the small space. Glen wanted to put his hands to his ears, but instead he launched himself at the professor.
Peterson was too quick. He stepped back as Glen came at him and wielded his shotgun like a club, hitting Glen in the chest and knocking him to the ground. The professor aimed another shot at Soren and Emily.
But Soren raised his own weapon and fired twice as Emily cowered beside him. The shots hit Peterson in the shoulder and the professor’s own volley again went wide as he was knocked backward.
Glen saw the fear in the professor’s eyes as he reeled back and stared at Soren, who stood calmly with his sunglasses on and his weapon drawn as if he were some kind of professional hitm
an. There was little doubt that Soren could have shot Peterson in the head if he’d wanted to. He looks so cool, Glen thought, and for a split second felt envious.
“Drop the weapon and let’s talk about this,” Soren said.
But Glen could barely hear him. The sound of hissing from outside had grown louder when Peterson opened the tent flap. But Glen realized the flap was no longer open. The sound was louder because the snakes were getting closer.
Professor Peterson didn’t respond. He cast one more look in Soren’s direction and then abruptly backed out of the tent and ran.
Soren looked over at Emily.
“You okay?” he asked.
She looked shaken, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear.
“He almost killed me,” she said.
Soren turned to face Glen.
“She’s in shock,” he said. “Grab her and get back to town. I’ll deal with the professor.”
But Glen could barely hear him. The sound of hissing was so loud it was almost overpowering. The hundreds—probably thousands, Glen corrected himself—of snakes at the entrance to the mine were now headed this way. Soren darted out of the tent before Glen could respond.
“No, wait!” Glen said, but it was too late. His “partner” was gone.
Glen turned to Emily.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
But Emily didn’t seem able to move. She had slumped over and was leaning on the table. Glen looked her up and down, searching for a wound. Maybe one of Peterson’s shots had connected.
“Emily, are you okay?”
The sound of the snakes was even louder now and Glen fought down the urge to panic. Soren wouldn’t panic. Soren would be all calm and shit. He’d faced down situations a lot worse.
The problem was that Glen hadn’t. He’d been in this kind of situation exactly once before and barely survived. He had no idea what to do now. If the snakes came into the tent there was no way he could get Emily and himself out. He could flee—some part of him wanted to blindly run out of there—but he wouldn’t abandon Emily.
Yet he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her, either. From every outward appearance, she seemed fine. And then he remembered what she’d said earlier—she was afraid of snakes. Maybe she was having a panic attack.
“Emily? We’ve got to get out of here,” he said.
He considered picking her up and running, but it was already too late. The hissing was all around them now and Glen could see shapes moving on the outside of the tent. The serpents were slithering past, headed in the same direction Soren and the professor had fled.
Glen heard hissing above him and noticed that snakes weren’t just moving on either side of the tent—they were going over it too. After a few seconds, there were so many above them that the inside of the tent became dark and Glen could hardly see.
He looked at the tent poles holding the tent up, wondering how much weight they would bear. If the tent collapsed, Emily and he would be drowned in a sea of snakes.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he said.
He stared at Emily, who was still leaning on the table, her eyes fixed on the floor. Maybe it was better that she didn’t seem to know what had happened. She appeared to be in shock.
The tent started to bulge in the space between the two metal poles, weighted down by the snakes. He could see their shadows squirming and slithering above him, desperately crawling over each other, trying to get across the tent.
“Please don’t tear, please don’t tear, please don’t tear,” he said.
The bulge grew larger as snakes seemed to have trouble passing and piled on top of one another. All Glen could do was watch in horror. He couldn’t flee. There was nowhere to flee to. He was standing in a river of snakes moving all around him, hissing so loudly he couldn’t hear himself think.
He was going to die. His first real case and he’d been abandoned by his partner and stuck with a panicked co-ed who had lost her mind from fear. He didn’t have a gun or a knife or any way to fight his way out. All he had was a mirror, which he doubted would be of any use against an army of snakes.
The bulge grew heavier and Glen heard what he dreaded most—a tearing sound as the tent fabric began to rip. Snakes began pouring into the tent, falling by the dozens from above. They hit the ground and began slithering in the same direction they’d been going earlier.
For a moment, Glen felt relief. Maybe they would ignore him. But he looked up to see the top of the tent above where he stood was now beginning to bulge. He saw other similar bulges throughout the tent. It wasn’t going to stand for very much longer.
He grabbed Emily and shoved her underneath one of the tables.
He dove under the other one just as the tent collapsed. Thousands of snakes crashed down upon them.
Chapter Eleven
Soren sprinted after the professor.
He heard Glen shouting behind him, but Soren had to hope he could get the girl out safely on his own. The key to stopping this whole mess was the man he was chasing.
The only thing that bothered Soren was that he couldn’t understand the professor’s motivations. Cleary, the artist, had stumbled upon the gorgon egg and hatched whatever was inside. He’d controlled the creature by accident and, if his drawing was any indication, seemed to care for it like a beloved pet. So his actions, awful though they were, made a certain amount of sense. Cleary had used his pet to make himself rich and famous even while he protected it.
Yet the professor had come to the mine and dug out the gorgon of his own free will. Did he think he knew how to control it? And how callous could the man be to risk the lives of his students in some kind of mad quest? What did he hope to gain from this?
Soren kept turning those questions over again in his mind as he ran, unable to come to a conclusion. All he knew was he was running out of time.
The people of Hilltop—and the students—were still alive. He was sure of it. They were trapped in stone, but the way their eyes moved, and how warm they were to the touch, convinced Soren there was a chance he could save them. He didn’t know how, but he’d start by capturing the professor. It was why Soren hadn’t killed the man when he had a chance. He needed to understand how he controlled the gorgon and see if the thing’s powers could be reversed. Soren just had to hope that was possible.
Peterson moved faster than Soren expected, especially considering he’d shot the guy twice in the shoulder. He might have been older and out of shape, but he ran surprisingly quickly. The professor sprinted away from the small collection of tents and the mine. Soren watched him dart into the forest near the road to Hilltop.
Soren ran after him, still clutching the gun in his hand. He paused at the line of trees when he realized he could no longer see or hear the professor. Peterson must be hiding somewhere.
Just as Soren stepped into the forest, the professor emerged from behind a tree, the shotgun in his hands. Soren didn’t have time to raise his own weapon, but ducked behind a tree as the blast went off.
He heard the professor start running again into the woods. Soren would have to be careful in how he followed the guy. If he didn’t, he was liable to end up with a shotgun wound to the chest.
As he stood behind the tree, he thought he could hear the hissing growing louder. He looked back at the tents to see they were gone. A mass of snakes had overrun them, knocking them down, and was now headed in his direction.
Soren thought about Glen and Emily. Surely they’d gotten out of there. He shook his head angrily. If they were hurt, it would be two more people to add to Soren’s already overburdened conscience. But he didn’t have time to worry about it now.
The snakes were headed this way for a reason—to save the professor. Which meant they were coming after Soren, and he didn’t have nearly enough bullets to kill the battalion of serpents headed in his direction.
Soren checked around the tree and saw nothing but the forest. There was no sign of the professor an
ywhere. If he walked forward, he could get blown away by the professor’s shotgun, but if he stayed here, he was going to be overrun by snakes. Soren didn’t like his options.
He took a moment to reload his gun before he stepped carefully into the forest, trying to move as quietly as possible. If he couldn’t see the professor, there was a good bet the man couldn’t see Soren.
But once inside the woods, he knew staying silent was going to be extremely difficult. The trees were packed tightly together, making both sight and movement difficult. Soren also had to step carefully to avoid snapping the sticks at his feet.
Making matters worse, he could hear the snakes coming closer, the hissing growing louder. He scanned the forest floor looking for clues, trying to spy a broken branch or some other indicator of where the professor was hiding. He saw one branch that looked like it had been snapped, half of it still hanging by a thin thread.
As silently as he could, Soren crept in that direction, keeping his gun out in front of him, aware that the hissing was growing ever closer. He tried to focus all his attention on what was in front of him, not behind. He couldn’t do anything about the snakes and if the professor blasted him at point blank range, they would be the least of his concerns.
Soren saw another broken branch up ahead. Soren carefully picked his way across the forest floor, listening for any signs of movement. But it was hard to hear over the hissing behind him.
He chanced a look behind. He could see dark shapes on the ground, but they were some distance away. He still had time—just not much of it.
The professor was close; Soren could feel it. He saw a large tree a few feet in front of him. It was just a guess, but he had a hunch Peterson was hiding behind it. The professor would have even had a chance to reload his shotgun, assuming he was carrying spare ammunition.
Soren quickly formed a plan. The professor was likely waiting for Soren to walk past on the left, where he could shoot him at near point blank range. But now that Soren thought he knew where he was, he could sneak up on the other side of the tree, moving to the right instead of the left. If he was careful, he could take the professor off guard and overpower him. Then he just had to hope there was a way to force Peterson to stop the snakes chasing after him, but he’d deal with that when the moment came.
Carnival of Stone: A Novella (The Soren Chase Series) Page 8
