Rushed (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Eric made his way down the hill and stood at the end of the bridge.  It was a simple suspension bridge, with old, wooden slats that he wasn’t sure would hold his weight.  But at least the bridge was supported with thick cables and not flimsy ropes, as he’d first thought.  Still, it inspired very little confidence as a means of safe crossing.

Was he really expected to use this thing?  Grant never said anything about risking his life on a terrifying deathtrap.  That seemed like something that should come up. 

Several fat crows were perched along the cables of the bridge, a murder of bad omens. 

He looked down into the gorge.  There was water at the bottom, but if it was a hundred feet deep or only a few inches, he couldn’t tell.  Either way, he had no desire to test his high diving abilities. 

The terrain here was strikingly different from the farmland he’d become familiar with.  Was this the gray area Grant was talking about?  Or was he looking at some of Wisconsin’s natural glacial features.  The cell phone remained dead, and that odd chill was in the air again, suggesting that he was no longer in the Wisconsin he knew.  At least not entirely.  But the sun still shined brightly in the sky and nothing more sinister than the architectural deathtrap waited to claim him. 

Eighty feet above the surface of the water, the bridge was clearly the product of an evil and deranged mind. 

Gingerly stepping out onto the planks, he felt it immediately begin to sway beneath his weight.  The crows took flight, apparently smart enough to know the makings of a disaster when they saw it. 

It was frightening as hell.  Yet even as he eased his weight out onto it, he realized he had done this all before. 

In his dream. 

At least he knew he was going the right way.  Now he only hoped that he wouldn’t get out over the middle of this gorge and suddenly recall that his dream ended with him plummeting to his death. 

Although heights generally didn’t bother him much, it was already clear that he was going to make an exception in this case.

Not feeling any giddy urges to run out and jump up and down, he stalled a moment by studying the transformed landscape around him.  But this turned out to be a poor decision as he had barely surveyed the trees behind him when he caught sight of a creature watching him from the cover of the brush. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Eric breathed. 

The thing was still too far away to see clearly, but it resembled a cross between a coyote and a deer.  It had short, powerful-looking legs, a long neck and a blunt tail.  Its head looked too large for the rest of its body and it appeared to be covered in blotchy, gray fur.  It was clearly far more agile than the nightmare livestock he’d observed while passing through the barn.  Even as he watched, it stalked closer to him, one paw after the other, oversized head low to the ground. 

The thing was not even remotely familiar.  For some reason, it had not been there in his dream.  He’d set out across the bridge without seeing anything more frightening than the bridge itself. 

He didn’t like that the creature was new.  New was bad.  New was unpredictable.  New meant that he couldn’t rely solely on his dream to get him through this ordeal.

Obviously, he was done procrastinating.  He turned back to the unpleasant task at hand, gripped the thick cables and began making his way across. 

Almost immediately, he was impressed by how utterly terrifying the experience was.  The whole structure swayed beneath him, tilting him left and right with each step, threatening to tip him over the edge and send him speeding toward the water below with far less poise and grace than an Olympic high diver and at least as much noise as a terrified teenage girl in a Halloween haunted house. 

About a third of the way across, he risked a look back. 

The creature had advanced, but it wasn’t stalking him across the bridge.  Instead, it was busily sniffing the path where he’d walked, studying his scent. 

Maybe it wasn’t interested in a snack.  Maybe it was only curious about him. 

Or maybe it just liked to smell its food before every meal. 

He sensed that this was neither the time nor the place for reckless optimism.  He turned his eyes back to the planks in front of him and continued across the bridge.  The closer he crept toward the middle, the more the bridge moved beneath him.  He could feel every faint breeze that blew past. 

Glancing back again, he saw that the creature was sitting at the end of the bridge, watching him. 

It was probably waiting for him to fall.  That would save it the trouble of catching him.  And the impact would likely tenderize his flesh nicely.  Yummy. 

Or perhaps it was just waiting for his clumsy ass to reach the other side so it could cross without him shaking the bridge to pieces from under them both. 

Carefully and far too slowly, Eric made his way past the middle of the bridge.  He could hear the planks creaking, threatening to snap. 

He didn’t like this at all.  His heart was racing.  His hands ached from gripping the cables with all his strength.  His body was tense, his teeth clenched.  Afraid that the mere sight of the chasm beneath him would freeze him with fright, he kept his eyes fixed on the path at the far side of the bridge. 

He could feel himself trembling.  It wouldn’t have surprised him if his very heart gave out before he could reach the safety of the far side of the gorge.  But with one step after another, he made his way steadily across. 

When he was nearly at the end, he realized that he was muttering curses and couldn’t quite remember when he started doing that. 

Finally, he stepped onto solid ground again and turned to face the creature, convinced that it would be charging toward him. 

But it remained where it was, watching him, apparently uninterested in eating him, but perfectly content to watch his amusing antics as he fled. 

Wondering if it would eventually come after him or if it would simply wander off again, but not waiting to find out for sure, he hurried along the path, up the next hill and into the next valley, where the trees grew thinner still and the jagged rocks jutted even more prominently from the ground. 

The forest that had mysteriously appeared from cornfields was itself quickly giving way to what looked like the foothills of a mountain range.  The hills grew taller and steeper and rocky bluffs broke the earth like great, yawning grins.

Behind him, the creature had not yet followed him over the hill and he could see no other signs of life to give cause for concern, but he kept his optimism reigned well in. 

The path wound to the bottom of the valley, followed it down for about a hundred yards and then jutted up and over the next rise.  Eric followed it step-by-step.  Grant had warned him not to leave the path, and he intended to obey him to the letter.  He did not even dare to cut the corners for fear that he might find himself rapidly and unexpectedly plunged into an even stranger and more hostile landscape. 

His phone remained dead. 

Nearing the top of the next rise, he turned back and saw that the creature was making its way down the previous hill, its snout to the ground, sniffing at his trail. 

Picking up his pace, he climbed the next hill and started down the other side.  The trees were denser here, the jagged rocks less pronounced.  The path wound around several mossy boulders and then cut through the dense underbrush at the bottom of the hill. 

As he reached the cover of the brush, he looked back again in time to see the creature crest the hill behind him.  It lifted is snout from the ground and stared back at him, its oversized head cocked curiously. 

Movement caught his eye and he spotted a second creature making its way along the top of the ridge toward the first.  A hot, twisting feeling grew in his gut as he wondered if the beasts would grow bolder in packs. 

Paranoid that they might chase him if he bolted, he forced himself to maintain only a fast walk as he moved into the cover of the brush. 

Ahead of him, the trees on the left of the path gave way to another cornfield.  The path wound around behind the field, toward a number of small buildings about half a mile away.  If he could reach those buildings before the creatures worked up the courage to run him down, he’d be fine. 

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw neither of them chasing after him. 

Then something growled at his left hip.

Chapter Nine

Having scratched the high dive off his bucket list already, Eric discovered that he might have had a promising future in either Olympic high jumping or on
Dancing with the Stars
.  Although neither venue was particularly appropriate for the sailor-worthy curses that escaped him even as he realized the sound was nothing more than his cell phone vibrating. 

Clearly, he had returned to Wisconsin’s calling area.

Hoping that, if nothing else, the creatures were now concerned about catching a freakish hopping strain of Tourrette’s and wouldn’t want to eat him anymore, he answered the damn phone. 

“How goes the quest?” Karen asked. 

“Peachy,” he replied, his heart still pounding from the fright. 

“You okay?”

“For now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  Just jumpy.”

“Where are you?”

“Not sure yet.  Another cornfield.  I see some buildings up ahead.  I’m going to check them out.”

“Be careful.”

“Obviously.”

“Don’t go near any more wardrobes.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.  I’m over Narnia for good.”

“I prefer Hogwarts anyway.”

“Me too.”

“Paul called.  He said you asked him to pick up the PT Cruiser.”

“I did.”

“He said he’ll be over in a little bit to pick up my key.”

“That was fast.”

“He was concerned.”

“I’ll bet.  He probably thinks I’ve lost my mind.” 

“Well you
are
wandering around in a cornfield.  Again.”

“True.”

Karen fell silent. 

“Do
you
think I’ve lost my mind?”

“No.”

“Really?”

Again, she fell silent.  Eric waited it out.  Behind him, the creatures still hadn’t emerged from the woods and he grew paranoid that they might try to circle around through the corn instead. 

“I really don’t think so,” she decided at last.  “I mean, you sent me the pictures.  Unless you’re playing a really elaborate prank on me—which I really doubt you’d be dumb enough to do—”

“That
does
sound like a stupid thing for me to do.”

“Yes.  It does.  But if you’re not…then I don’t know how else to explain it.  Either this is all real…or…you’ve gone completely nuts.” 

“And that’s the simplest explanation,” Eric concluded. 

“You said you were seeing creatures that don’t exist.  Monsters.  You said you jumped fifty miles by walking through a barn.”

“Well…I was
told
fifty miles.  I don’t actually
know
it was fifty.  Could have been just one.”

Again, Karen fell silent. 

“So did you tell Paul I was going crazy?”

“I told him about your dream.  Not about…all the other stuff.”

Nothing rustled in the corn but a faint breeze and the half-coyote-half-deer things had not emerged from the forest.  He was still not halfway to the safety of the buildings and he did not even know for sure that those structures actually equated civilization and therefore safety.  For all he knew, the buildings had been abandoned years ago and since claimed as dens for the very creatures he sought to escape.  In that case, Karen might not be the only one getting her lunch delivered to her home. 

On the other hand, he didn’t know for sure that these things wouldn’t hesitate to follow him right up to someone’s door and disembowel him right on the welcome mat.

“He was worried.”

“I know.”

Something rustled in the corn.  Was it just the wind?  A rabbit? 

“I think you should send him those pictures.  Let him know what’s going on.”

“You think so?”

“Just consider it.  Maybe he can help.”

He searched the corn, but could see nothing. 

“Maybe.  We’ll see.  But listen, I need to hang up again for a little while.”

“Okay.  Call me back.”

“I will.”  Although he knew perfectly well that
she’d
call
him
long before he’d get around to it. 

Eric hung up and looked back the way he came.  The absence of the creatures was worse than knowing they were following him.  It was far too easy to imagine an entire pack of them gathering under the cover of the corn, stalking him, preparing to pounce. 

But nothing showed itself as he made his way to the far end of the field and around the curve. 

Ahead of him, the buildings loomed silently.  Six small structures and one much larger structure were clustered around a center courtyard.  Even before he reached them, he could tell they were no longer in use and his heart sank at the realization that this might not be the safe haven he was hoping to find. 

Now and then something would flit around in the field, and once a pair of crows shot up and took flight, startling him into another fit of cursing, but nothing more showed itself.  The creatures were either uninterested or they were biding their time for some reason. 

In the dream, he recalled feeling nervous about the corn, about all the things that might be hiding in there, just out of sight, watching him.  He remembered hearing a lot of noises in the field, but hadn’t seen anything to justify his fears.  The strange hybrid of coyote and deer had still not shown themselves. 

Apparently, Dream Eric had arrived on time like a good boy and therefore didn’t have to deal with all this extra crap. 

Noises taunted him, the corn rustled threateningly, yet he somehow made his way along the road to the cluster of buildings without being set upon by ravenous beasts. 

As he walked out into the overgrown yard, he realized he was standing in some sort of abandoned campground.  The six smaller buildings were cabins, the larger likely contained a meeting room and cafeteria, probably an office or two.  He could see the posts where a volleyball net used to be, an old basketball court, a half-dozen picnic tables and several concrete fire pits. 

There was also an old, cheesy-looking totem pole displayed at the center of the yard.  Most of the paint had faded or flaked away, leaving much of it unrecognizable without a close inspection, but the one on top was clearly a bird of prey with boxy, outstretched wings. 

As he looked around, everything he saw came back to him.  Just like with the barn and the bridge, he had been here in his dream, which meant that this was precisely where he was supposed to be.  But where, exactly, was he supposed to go from here?  Grant had only told him to follow the path, which he did.  He even crossed that stupid bridge. 

So where to now?

Looking around, he caught sight of a hefty bald man in a pair of baggy shorts and a dirty tee shirt.  He was walking out from behind one of the cabins and was now crossing the tall grass toward the front door of the main building. 

Taylor. 

Eric broke into a jog.  “Excuse me!  Hey!” 

But the man walked into the building without acknowledging him. 

Assuming he hadn’t been heard, Eric hurried after him.  He had almost reached the building’s front steps when he suddenly realized that something was wrong. 

He stopped running and stared into the open doorway.  This was remarkably similar to the man he’d seen leaving the barn and then entering the house.  The
residual
man. 

He had followed that one into a place he wasn’t supposed to go.  And here he was, chasing this person, merely
assuming
that it was the man Grant told him to expect. 

His eyes fixed on the darkened doorway, he began to back away. 

“Wise choice.”

Twirling around, uttering an incoherent cry, he found himself face-to-face with an elderly black man with kind eyes and a gentle smile. 

“Sorry to startle you.”

“No, it’s fine.  You’d think I’d be getting used to it by now.”  He glanced around the empty courtyard.  “Where the hell did you come from?”

“I was in cabin four when I saw you run by.”  He gestured at one of the smaller buildings. 

“Oh.”

The old man was dressed in worn jeans and a light work shirt, not that different from Grant, he realized.  There was a tool belt around his waist that appeared to contain very few tools, a stark contrast to the similar belt he’d so often seen Paul wearing while at work.  His always looked so laden with heavy tools that he should barely be capable of walking. 

“I was hoping to catch you before you did something stupid, but it looks like you’re already onto that trick.”

“Yeah.  Fell for the residual thing back at the barn.  Lucky for me, Grant saved my ass.  I take it you’re Taylor?”

“Taylor Parlorn.”

“Eric Fortrell.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Eric.”

“You the groundskeeper here or something?”

“Not officially.  But I do keep my eye on things.”

“Because of the fissure,” Eric guessed.

“Because of the fissure.”  Still smiling, Taylor turned and walked toward the nearest cabin and Eric, having not been given any instructions on what he should do next, followed.

“So you guys are what?  The honor guard or something?”

Taylor stepped into the open doorway and surveyed the interior of the cabin for a few seconds before pulling the door closed.  Turning around, he replied, “Something like that.”

Eric followed him to the next cabin.  “What is this place?  Or
was
, I guess.”

Taylor stopped and turned to face him, his smile broadening.  “About forty years ago, it was a naturist resort.”

“Naturists?”

“Naturists, nudists, whatever you want to call them.  This was Gold Sunshine Resort.”  He turned and continued to the next cabin.  “
Clothing optional
.  Naked people everywhere.  Naked swimming.  Naked sunbathing.  Naked volleyball.  Naked basketball.  Naked campfire singing.” 

Eric laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  It just seemed so completely absurd that he should find himself in an abandoned nudist resort of all places.  And then there was the way Taylor kept pronouncing the word “nekkid.” 

“I didn’t know there were nudist resorts in Wisconsin.” 

“Well, I can’t imagine it was all that popular a hobby in the wintertime, to tell the truth.”

“I wouldn’t imagine so, either.” 

Taylor stepped into the second cabin and Eric followed.  A piece of plywood that had been mounted over a broken window had fallen and was lying on the floor.  Taylor picked it up, produced a hammer and some nails from his belt and fixed it back over the window.  That done, the two of them exited the building and Taylor closed the door firmly behind them. 

“Something happened here,” Taylor said as he walked back out into the sun.  “Something bad.  I don’t recall which story was true and which were just rumors, but the place closed down.  It’s been sitting here empty ever since.”

The idea that something bad had happened here was unsettling. 

Eric turned and caught sight of the two creatures that had been following him.  They were standing between the farthest two cabins with their backs to the cornfield.  Apparently they
were
hiding out there.  They had probably been watching his every move.  As he eyed them, a third crept out into sight. 

Taylor followed his gaze.  “I see you’ve got some admirers.”

“Looks like it.”

“They’re real curious creatures, but pretty well harmless.”

“Are they?”

“Oh yeah.  Like most animals, really.  I’ve never heard of them attacking a person.  Not even in large packs.”

“Huh.” 

“Ugly suckers, though, ain’t they?”

Looking at their too-large heads and mangy hides, he couldn’t argue.  But there was also something almost endearing about them, too, now that he knew they weren’t determined to tear out his throat.  They had a characteristically puppy-like quality.

Remembering the cell phone’s camera, he pulled it out and snapped a picture of the three animals.  “I still have reception,” he noticed. 

“Yep.  We’re in Wisconsin.”

Eric sent the picture to Karen, thankful again for the opportunity to prove that he wasn’t completely out of his mind.  Obviously, he was only
partially
nuts at best.  “Speaking of Wisconsin,” he said.  “How far have I gone this time?”

Taylor gave him another endearing smile.  “You’re about eighty-five miles north of where you left Grant.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

It wasn’t entirely
un
-cool, he had to admit. 

Eric glanced around the resort.  “So where do I go now?”