Authors: Marc Buhmann
They were a few feet from the edge of the collapsed bridge, the ruin in the stream below, the water trickling around the white and cracked stone. Willem could imagine it had been a beautiful bridge at one point, but years of neglect must have taken its toll. He estimated the length across was no more than thirty or forty feet, the stream ten feet down. They could easily cross it as the water was only a few inches deep.
“How do we get across?” Sammy asked as thunder rumbled.
“There’s a trail just over there,” William said, pointing. He walked his bike to the embankment next to the bridge, and Willem watched as William made his way down. It wasn’t exceptionally steep, but the leaves made it slippery.
Willem followed, taking each step cautiously.
“Watch it right there,” William said.
Willem saw the skid mark of where William had slid. A rock lay half buried in leaves. If either had hit their head on that there was a good chance they’d be out for the count, bleeding, possibly dying. Willem stepped over the spot, tested the ground, and shifted his weight. A few more steps and he was down.
“Its okay, Sam. Just watch your step and take it slow.”
He stood at the bottom and watched his brother slide down ever so carefully, taking ginger steps. He nearly lost his balance—let go of his bike—but managed to grab onto a tree branch. His bike rolled down and crashed into one of the bridge stones.
Sammy tested his footing, seemed satisfied, continued down.
His foot shot out from under him and he went down, arms flailing. He landed on his butt and yelped.
William laughed.
“Sam!” Willem cried. “You okay?”
Sam nodded furiously, fear showing.
“Just slide on down. You’ll be fine.”
Sam took it nice and slow. Once he was on level ground he stood.
“Oh my God you should have seen your face!” William tried to stifle the laugh but another came with a short snort.
“It’s not funny!” Sammy cried out, tears in his eyes.
Willem scowled at William, said, “Knock it off.”
Sam went to his bike, now in inches of water.
“It okay?”
Sam stood it up and inspected it. “I think so.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, but can we go home now? Please?”
Willem didn’t want to, but he also didn’t like seeing Sam scared. He was trying to hide it but not very well. He turned to William. “Maybe we should.”
“It’s just up ahead, maybe five minutes.”
So close. It would be a shame to turn back now. He went to Sam and crouched so he was at eye level. “Five minutes, okay? Any more and we’ll turn around.”
Sam was sullen. “Fine.”
William led the way across the shallow water, trying to step on rocks that weren’t completely submerged. The embankment on the other side wasn’t as steep and they made it up without incident. Mounting their bikes they continued to ride.
A gust of cool wind hit them, and the first drops of rain hit his cheeks. The broken road darkened drop by drop.
“Shit,” Willem muttered.
Thunder rolled above, a low deep rumble.
And then the road ended, blocked by two giant boulders. William guided them around the boulders to a barely visible narrow dirt road. They followed it, splashing through a puddle, then crested a hill where the boys stopped.
Below was the clearing. William was right; it looked like a foundation but not quite. More of an indentation. To the left of that was a black hole in the ground.
If it wasn’t Caroline’s Cottage then they’d stumbled upon some other relic of a bygone era.
“Come on,” William said and led the way down the hill.
They stopped and dismounted prior to the clearing, the threshold of the property. When they crossed the temperature seemed to drop, the light darkening further.
My imagination,
Willem thought.
Has to be.
The well fascinated Willem, and he felt himself drawn to it. William mumbled, “Be careful.”
A few stones lined the perimeter, but the ground was mostly eroded. The water within was milky black.
He turned and joined William at the indentation of the cabin or house or whatever it was. Sam hung back, not venturing any closer than the clearing border.
Willem noted there were no broken or rotting wood beams, remnants of walls, shingles from a roof
—anything
—lying about. If the place had been abandoned then were was all that stuff? Strange the building wasn’t here. Or maybe it was all just their minds playing tricks on them.
“This is it?”
“As far as I could find,” answered William.
Willem placed his foot on the other side of what he thought was the foundation, the tip of his shoe first as if testing the stability of the ground.
“What are you doing?” Sam hissed.
He looked at his brother and shrugged. “Looking around.”
“Don’t! Can’t you feel it?”
He’d thought it had just been his mind playing a silly trick on him—letting the weather and mood of the situation get the better of him—but Sam voicing a shared experience unnerved him.
“I’ll only be a second.” He brought his other foot across. He turned and smiled. “See?”
Another crack of thunder rolled across the land. “Fine, but hurry up!”
Something was drawing Willem here, a tiny voice whispering unintelligible words masked by static in his mind. It was eerie yet comforting. He was nervous but felt safe.
He took another step in, then another, moving towards the center, towards the whisper. And then the voice shifted, luring him in a different direction.
At the point where he felt the voice strongest he stopped.
Here. Right here. Something…
He got on his knees and started moving the dirt around. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he sensed it was here.
William asked, “What are you doing?”
“Just a minute,” and continued to dig.
His finger touched cold metal. He dug around it, got his fingers around it, and pulled. A heavy circular smooth ring about the size of his hand came loose and popped from its dirt prison. Willem stared at it, unsure what it was. He turned it in his hand, rubbing the grime away.
“What have you got?” William wanted to know.
But Willem didn’t answer, just stared at it.
The forest lit with blue light, flickering wildly before growing darker still. This time, instead of a gentle gradual roll of thunder, it cracked.
“We should go,” William called. “Think it’s going to be bad.” He got on his bike and joined Sammy at the edge of the clearing.
The static and voice had faded away, and with nothing to lead him he felt aimless. Whatever had drawn him had dissipated, the mystique of the place dead, yet the curiosity lingered. He definitely wanted to come back another day and explore, and when he did he’d come prepared. There was something magical about this place, something unique, he just didn’t know what.
A flash of lightning brought him back to reality. He looked around and saw William and Sam at the top of the hill waving their arms.
Willem ran to his bike and slid the ring on the bike handle, then joined William and Sam. Williem glanced back once, saw the property disappear, consumed by the surrounding forest.
I’ll be back,
he kept telling himself.
I’ll be back again.
He increased his speed, pushing forward, the wind at his back.
nine
(1960)
He was dreaming but try as he might David couldn’t wake. He was in his pajamas standing barefoot in the black woods, full moon shining through the naked fall branches. His feet carried him along the decomposing leaves, a blanket of autumnal rust. He crested a hill, and below stood a single-story wooden cabin. Golden light shown in one window.
Three ghostly figures rode past on bikes startling him.
Boys,
he thought. They were just boys, their faces masked in distortion and hollow laughter. David followed them down, and by the time he reached the clearing in the woods the boys had neared the cabin.
No!
he wanted to cry.
Stay away!
There was something in this place, something dangerous that was imprisoned—something other and mad.
Mad and bat shit crazy
.
One of the boys approached the wooden porch and passed through it at shin level. The door was an ominous fixture, a maw ready to tear its prey apart. David sensed it, but the boy seemed oblivious. He wanted to run to him, to stop him, but his feet would take him no further. Instead he stood beside the youngest of the three, the one smart enough to stay away.
The ghost boy crossed the threshold, passing through the door.
Come back! You have to come back!
The door swung open silently and a man emerged.
DeMarcus.
He had that shit-eating smile on his face, and he was looking directly at David. He was suddenly very cold, and the hair on the back of his neck stood.
DeMarcus beckoned David forward. He realized he was no longer shackled to this spot, that he could move on his own. He stood his ground and stared at the smiling man.
Again DeMarcus waved him over and said, “You’re safe here.”
His feet moved on their own, ushering him toward The Smiling Man.
“This is the shadow dream—what was and will be again,” DeMarcus cooed.
A ghostly inhuman screech echoed around them. David jumped at the sound and looked frantically around. “What was that?”
DeMarcus’ eyes never wavered. “A prisoner of nowhere, a guardian of everwhere.” He stepped forward. “You must bring her to me.”
A high-pitched buzzing intoned from some far off place.
“I don’t understand. Who?” David asked.
“Lilly.”
The buzzing grew louder.
“How do you know my wife?”
And louder still. He felt like his teeth were rattling.
“There isn’t much time,” DeMarcus responded. “She’ll listen to you. Bring her.”
“Where? What are you talking about?”
DeMarcus held up his hands and said something but the buzzing was too loud.
“What?” he yelled, trying to be heard over the now deafening sound.
DeMarcus’ unnaturally wide smile grew wider still.
There was a flash of blinding blue and DeMarcus and the deafening tone was gone.
The boy reappeared through the door carrying something. David tried to clear his head, watched the figure move away. It looked like a ring in his hand, but he couldn’t be sure. He tried to catch up, but the boy was too fast, unfazed by what had transpired.
And then the woods encircling the cabin darkened, the boys swallowed by the engulfing blackness, until David was alone in a void.
He blinked. The light from a late night passing car moved across the ceiling of his bedroom. Crickets chirped outside the open window, and a breeze blew the partially closed drapes. He looked at Lilly who was on her side, back to him, sleeping soundly.
He lay awake until the stars faded, chirping birds replaced the crickets, and the sky brightened to an orange hue. Sleep had evaded him, but not the dream.
* * *
After Lilly had woken from her coma David had become concerned about his wife. After the initial tears and bout of depression she had rebounded quickly—seemingly fine—as if nothing had happened. He’d watched her closely at first thinking she might be having some sort of breakdown, but after a month his concern eased. They returned to their pre-accident routine.
One evening after dinner he was sitting in his chair in the living room reading
To Kill a Mockingbird.
It had been released a few months earlier and the reviews were fantastic. Lilly’s crying pulled him from the story and he’d gone to her.
She was standing at the door of what was to have been their child’s room. Between ever increasing sobs she said she knew how much he’d wanted a child—they both had—and now that they couldn’t she completely understood if he wanted to leave. That had taken him by surprise; such a thing had never occurred to him. He took her in his arms and together they cried, she for what she thought she was losing, he for not seeing the pain his wife had been hiding. He kept apologizing, for nothing and everything, a wave of depression he’d ignored in himself pouring out. After their emotional fire had been expunged they sat together saying nothing. More confident in each other than ever before, they pressed ahead with their lives.
David had never told Lilly about Abigail, something he continually regretted, but this far in he decided it would do more harm than good. Not that it mattered anyway; Abigail had moved that April after selling the house. With her husband dead there was nothing to keep her in River Bend. Since the possibility of an awkward encounter was remote, why upset his wife?
David and Lilly were sitting out on the back patio drinking sun tea and reading the morning paper. A squirrel hopped around the lush backyard digging for nuts, and a chickadee chirped from the edge of their roof.