1 The Bank of the River (11 page)

“The
ritual,” Roy replied. “The ritual will be over.”

“If you want
to call it that,” Michael said.

“Do you know
where Lukas is at, right now?” Steven asked.

“No. But I
wish I did,” Michael said sadly. “I presume Ben buried him after he killed him.
He must have buried him somewhere…but where? I suppose if you could find him,
you’d have your evidence, at least of one murder.”

“That’s the
plan, isn’t it?” Roy asked. “For us to find him, and dig him up.”

“Is that a
rhetorical question?” Michael asked, smiling.

“What is the
ritual?” Steven asked.

“Don’t you
two talk?” Michael said. “Ask Roy. He already knows.”

Steven turned
to Roy, but Roy kept his gaze on Michael, and his hand on the gun in his
pocket.

“I’m
guessing Lukas was short a consumption or two before Ben screwed up the plan,”
Roy said.

“Only one,”
Michael said, spreading his arms, still smiling. “And I’m ready and waiting.
The children are concentrated in me. Once he consumes me, we’ll be eternal.”

Steven saw
Roy pull the gun out of his pocket. He was surprised to see him aim it at
Michael, but in a moment it all clicked for him – Michael was the final step of
the ritual. Michael was waiting to be consumed by Lukas, to finish the process.
If Roy killed him, it might end the ritual before it could be completed.

The gun
clicked, misfiring. He pulled the trigger repeatedly, with the same result.

“I’m far too
big of an investment to not protect, Roy,” Michael said, lowering his arms.
“Four children and fifteen patient years aren’t going to be dispensed by an old
man and his thick son, regardless of how protected you are.”

Roy lowered
the gun, returned it to his pocket. For a moment they all sat looking at each
other in a sort of stalemate.

“What now?”
Steven said.

“Well, I
think you and Roy should run along and figure out where Ben buried him,”
Michael said. “Unless you’d like something to eat first. I have a casserole in
the oven, there’s plenty for all of us.”

“We won’t do
it,” Steven said. “Lukas can rot in the ground.”

“Then what
you’ve experienced the last few days,” said Michael, leaning forward towards
Steven, “will be nothing compared to what will come.” He turned to Roy. “And
you know what will happen to you.”

Steven’s
defensiveness of Roy kicked into high gear at this threat, and he stood. “Come
on, Dad. We’re leaving.”

Roy stood,
and so did Michael. They all went to the door.

“Thanks for
coming,” Michael said. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to
help.”

Steven shot
a glance at Roy. He looked as angry as he’d ever seen him, as though he wanted
to deck Michael, but knew better. They walked out of the house without a word
and to their car, hearing Michael shut the door behind them.

-

They
returned to Roy’s house, not saying much. Roy walked down the hallway to his
bedroom, and returned with a large book that he dropped on the kitchen table in
front of Steven. “There,” he said, pointing to it. “The answer is in there,
somewhere. Just gotta find it.”

“Is this
it?” Steven asked. “The secret book?”

“Yup,” Roy
replied. “That’s it. Secret no longer. See if
you
can figure it out.”

“I wouldn’t
know where to start,” Steven said. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

Roy sat next
to Steven. “Well, I’m not sure we have a choice,” he said.

“You always
say we always have a choice,” Steven responded. “We could just drop the whole
thing, not play into these assholes.”

“That’s
true,” Roy replied. “In this case, I think that choice is a bad choice if I
want to keep living.”

Steven
lowered his head. He thought for a moment he might cry, just lose it from all
the strangeness and stress. He was just a normal guy who didn’t believe in
abnormal things. Not only was his job gone, his house had indeed turned out to
be unlivable. But the thing that really pushed him to the edge was his father’s
life being used as ransom to locate and dig up a monster. They were being
forced to play out a terrible scenario and the unfairness of it ate into him
like acid.

“Funny,” Roy
said, “in most hauntings, once you solve the mystery of why the ghosts are
there, the problem is solved. In this case, it just made things worse.”

 “All ghost
stories are solved by finding out what is unknown, right?” Steven asked.

“Usually,”
replied Roy. “And then setting things straight.”

“Well, what
we don’t know is how to kill this fucker,” said Steven, changing his resolve.
“We just have to find that out, and then kill him to set things right. That
will stop the ritual, the metamorphosis. Lukas will be dead and gone, and he’ll
leave you alone. That should make Ben happy, too, get him to shut up. Then I
can go back home, have a decent night’s sleep, and you can return to whatever
you were doing before I wrapped you up in this.”

Roy mulled
this over. “What about Michael?”

“He’ll be
inert.”

“Well,” said
Roy, “it’s all academic until we find where Lukas is buried.”

“And,” added
Steven, “we know how to kill him correctly.”

Third time’s
the charm,
Steven
thought as he pulled his car into the trailer park and wormed his way to
trailer number 48. He parked and waited until 7 p.m. He had considered calling
Debra, but didn’t want to reach John and get her into trouble with him for having
talked to him.

He glanced
down the street towards her space and didn’t see John’s truck there. He wanted
to get back to Roy as soon as possible. He decided to walk up to Debra’s now,
rather than wait the additional half hour for John to leave. Besides, it looked
like Debra’s husband had already gone to work.

He walked up
to the trailer door and knocked. At the same time the door opened, a man walked
from around the back of the trailer. Both Debra at the door and John from the
corner of the trailer said “Hello?” at the same time.

“Uh, sorry,
I thought maybe…” he said to Debra, unsure how to finish. Her face looked
crestfallen. John couldn’t see her from where he stood, and she tried to get
Steven to leave by silently waving her hand at the wrist, like she was shooing
away a bug. She mouthed the word, “go!” Or maybe it was “no!” Steven couldn’t
be sure.

“Yes, what
do you want?” John asked, stepping closer to Steven and into Debra’s view.

Steven
stared at him.
I fucked up,
Steven thought.
He must not have a shift
tonight. Where the fuck is his truck?
John ran all the options through his
mind as quickly as he could, and settled on honesty.

“Steven Hall,”
he said, extending his hand. “I called you several days back.”

John stared
at him blankly while shaking his hand, obviously not recalling.

“Regarding
your father.”

John let the
hand drop. “I don’t have anything to say to you. Go on, get.”

Go on,
get?
Steven thought.
Did he just tell me to ‘get’?

“I don’t
want to bother you,” Steven said, “trust me, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t
important.”

“You’re
already bothering me,” John said. “I told you I didn’t want to speak to you,
and you come to my home anyway? Are you stalking me? Why shouldn’t I call the
cops?”

“Because my
father is in trouble,” Steven said, looking at him. “Just like Ben was. The
exact same thing.” He could see him soften a little, so Steven decided to
pursue it and see if he could win him over. “And I’m desperate for any little
thing that might help him. I would not have come here if I didn’t believe my
father’s life was in jeopardy.”

At this John
seemed to soften even more. He appeared to be considering it, rather than going
for his shotgun to run him off.

“Please,”
Steven pleaded. “I don’t know who else to ask.”

Debra spoke
up from the trailer doorway. “John, why don’t you give this man five minutes?
His father is in trouble, and it’s the Christian thing to do.”

John seemed
to be mulling this over. Eventually he sighed and said, “All right. Five
minutes. What do you want from me?”

“Thank you,”
Steven said. He then asked John some of the same questions he’d already run
past Debra, but he left out their theory about Ben killing Lukas. John gave him
answers similar to what he’d heard from Debra. Sooner or later he’d lose John’s
patience. He was going to have to hit him with the big question he’d driven out
to ask Debra in the first place, but without telling him about the shadow and
the child killings. He was afraid it would come out of left field and put John
off. He decided to soften him up even more first.

“My father
started assisting me a few days ago, and from how you’ve described Ben, my
father is experiencing the same problems. I had to take him to the ER the other
night. I’m truly afraid for his life.”

“I’m sorry
to hear that,” John said. “I wouldn’t wish what happened to my dad on anyone
else.”

“This may
sound like a crazy question John, but it’s really important to me figuring this
thing out,” Steven said. “When Ben started to go downhill, did he ever mention
a place other than his home? Did he have any property somewhere?”

“He didn’t
mention anything, but we have a family cabin south of Leavenworth,” John said.
“It’s been in our family for generations. I know Ben went there a couple of
times before he died. He loved it there. Why?”

“I’m not
sure yet,” Steven said. “Would you mind if I visited there? Not to stay or
anything, just to check out a theory I’ve got? It might help explain what’s
been happening.”

John looked
down at his feet, then over at Debra. “You going to tell me why?”

Steven
looked down, stammered. “You’d just think I’m crazy.”

John paused.
“Maybe not,” he said.

Steven
looked up at him, pleading. But he wasn’t going to tell the whole story to
John. It was too much, it would just derail the goal, which was getting access
to Ben’s property for another search. There would be plenty of time to tell
John all about it if it panned out. But for now, he pressed his lips shut and
John took the message.

“OK,” John
said. “Deb, would you get the cabin keys for him?” Debra said, “Yeah,” smiled,
and left the doorway. John turned to Steven. “You got a pen? I’ll give you
directions. It isn’t easy.”

Steven
whipped out his phone and opened a note. “Go ahead,” he said. John described the
route Steven would need to take to find the cabin. When he was finished, he said,
“You can stay out there as long as you need. This time of year none of us go
out there. There’s no electricity, but there’s some lanterns if you bring oil.
Heat is from a wood burning stove. No hot water unless you boil it on the
stove.”

Debra returned
with the keys, and gave them to John. He handed them to Steven. “I hope you
find what you’re looking for, and your dad improves,” he said. “And that you
can put an end to whatever this is. I’ve never been more scared than when I was
around him in those final few weeks. It got so bad Deb wouldn’t come with me to
visit him. I didn’t want to go either. To tell you the truth, I felt like he
was murdered. If you can figure out what did that to him, and do something
about it…” he began to tear up, “…I’d be extremely grateful to you. And I know
it would give him peace. So bring the keys back whenever you’re finished. You
take care of yourself and your dad,” he said, averting his eyes from Steven and
turning to walk back behind the trailer.

Steven
nodded his thanks to Debra. She winked back at him. He turned and walked back
to his car, determined to, as John had said, put an end to this.

Steven and Roy
left early the next morning after an evening of shift-sleeping. Steven did the
driving, and Roy kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t fall asleep at the
wheel, but after twenty minutes on the freeway Roy was out. Steven let him
sleep. He navigated the hour and a half drive East of Seattle into the forest.
Leavenworth was a small tourist town, decked out in a Bavarian theme, catering
to skiers in the winter and shoppers in the summer. The highway that led south
from Leavenworth was heavily used by the tourists to return to I-90, but it ran
through US forest land, and had little commerce. The small roads that left the
highway and wormed their way into the forest were only used by locals. Steven
followed John’s directions, taking several turns off one of the roads, and at
the final instruction found himself at the end of a long dirt path better
suited for an SUV than his Accord. If he had found the correct dirt road, the
cabin would be a hundred yards further down a dirt trail to their right. He
woke Roy.

“We’re
here?” Roy asked.

“Yeah, I
think so,” Steven replied. “We’ll have to go down that trail to be sure.”

Roy held his
head as he straightened up in the seat. “Something wrong?” Steven asked.

“Headache,”
Roy said. “Probably slept wrong on the drive up.”

“Come on,”
Steven said, “let’s check out the trail. Maybe they have some aspirin in the
cabin.”

Steven
retrieved a backpack from the car that he had loaded with flashlights, oil,
bottled water, and the binoculars. The trees were tight in this area, and when
he shut the trunk it echoed.

They walked
down the path from the car. It was overgrown in some places, and mostly level.

“I imagine
they have to trim this back every year,” Steven said, maneuvering around small
branches.

“Or not,”
replied Roy. “When you have a place like this, you have it because you want to
be away from other people. An open, inviting path isn’t considered essential.
Or desirable. You’d just as soon no one know you’re here, and you don’t want to
see anyone yourself.”

“Or maybe,”
replied Steven, “they just like the woods, and the path grows over every year.”

Roy stopped,
and Steven expected him to say something acerbic. Instead, he reached his arms
out, like he had at the first visit to the Victorian mansion, anticipating a
fall.

“You OK?”
Steven asked, moving over to him.

“Dizzy,” Roy
said. “Just dizzy.”

“Let’s wait
here for a bit, until you get your bearings. Probably moving too fast after
that nap.”

Roy didn’t
object and Steven held onto him as they stood in the path, waiting for Roy to
regain his stability. “Look,” Steven said, “that looks like the roof of the
place, up ahead.”

They
couldn’t see the whole cabin from where they stood, but it was obvious that it
was below them, and the path must wind downward ahead. Steven glanced through
the woods in other directions – Roy was right, there was nothing to be seen. No
other cabins, cars, or people.

“Let’s go,”
Roy said. “I can walk.”

“Do you want
me to hold onto you?” Steven asked.

“No,” Roy
replied.

“Well, say
something if you feel dizzy again,” Steven said. “We’re a long way from a
hospital if you break a leg or a hip.”

“Hmmpf,” Roy
replied.

Another
couple of minutes, and they were standing in front of it. Some of it must have
been from the first generation that built it, but many pieces were added on or
replaced over the years, and it was a hodgepodge of wood types and materials.
The door and door frame were newer, and Steven used the key in it while Roy
held himself up against the frame. Steven observed Roy holding his head again.
“Let’s see what we can find in here,” he said, entering the cabin.

It was one
room, with an open kitchen in the back, and a single bedroom to the side, with
a bathroom off that. Steven rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen
looking for something he could give Roy for the headache, but found nothing. He
tried the bathroom, which contained only a toilet and a cabinet. In the cabinet
he found a bottle of Tylenol. He brought it out for Roy.

“Here, take
a couple of these,” Steven said, pulling a bottle of water from the backpack
and handing it to Roy. Roy opened the bottle and downed the medicine. “What
now?” he said to Steven.

“Not sure.
You feeling anything?” Steven asked.

“Just this
headache,” Roy replied. “It’s a doozy, too.”

“Let’s wait
until it subsides before we try anything more,” Steven said. Roy sat in a
chair, and Steven began looking around the cabin. “It’s likely he didn’t bury
him in this cabin,” Steven said. “Wouldn’t want the grandkids to run into him.
If he buried him up here, he would have buried him somewhere out there, in the
woods, far enough away that no one would find the grave.”

“Makes
sense,” said Roy. “What are we going to do, search the woods?”

“I guess
we’ll have to,” Steven replied.

“And if we
find the grave? What then?”

“I don’t
know. Dig down until we find the body, then use a couple of shotguns on it? No
one will hear, out here.”

“Now who’s
gun happy?” Roy said. “How do you know that wasn’t Ben’s approach in the first
place? He might be down there riddled with holes already.”

Steven was
getting irritated. “I don’t know. Maybe chop him into pieces.”

“With what?”
Roy asked. “A knife from the kitchen?”

“Listen, I’m
just guessing here, trying to figure it out.”

“The problem
will be,” Roy said, “that as soon as we’ve freed him from the grave, we’ll be
vulnerable. We have to have a foolproof way to finish him off. For now, let’s
just locate the grave. No digging until we have a plan.” Roy stood.

“You feeling
better?” Steven asked.

“A little,”
Roy replied. “Let’s start.”

They walked
out the front door into the small clearing in front of the cabin.

“How do we
do this?” Steven asked.

“Same as
before,” said Roy. “Let me hold onto your shoulder, you guide.”

“I think we
should start at the cabin, and circle it. Then spiral out.”

“Fine.”

Steven led
Roy through the route he proposed, widening the spiral by a few feet each time
they circled the cabin. Soon they were into the woods and needing to dodge
trees, making the progress much slower. By the fifth circle, Steven could tell
Roy was slowing down, but then he seemed to get his wind back and they
continued on. It happened again on the sixth and seventh circles. On the eighth
circuit, Steven stopped when he felt his dad slow.

“Dad,”
Steven said, “you slow down each time we hit this part of the circle. Are you
feeling anything?”

“Just
exhausted,” Roy replied.

“But then
you pick back up as we move on. Watch.”

They kept
walking, and Roy did speed up.

“Do you feel
anything?”

“No, I just
get dizzy for a second.”

“Yeah,”
Steven said, “but why each time we’re here? Come over here, Dad. Step right
here.” Steven led him back to the point in the circle when he noticed the slow
down. “What do you feel now, standing right here?”

Roy paused.
“Dizzy. A little nauseous. Weak.”

Steven grabbed
him by the shoulders and moved him a few paces away. Roy stopped, concentrated.
“Better. Not dizzy. Stronger.”

“Stay here,
I’ll be right back,” Steven said. He returned to the cabin, and grabbed pieces
of firewood that were stacked by the front door. As he walked back to Roy, he
placed the logs at the points on the circle where Roy had seemed to falter. He
placed the last log on the spot he had just tested with Roy.

“You’re
thinking,” said Roy, “that if I follow that line away from the cabin, I’ll get
sicker and sicker.”

“Yeah,”
replied Steven, “and if you step away from it, you’ll feel better.”

“Only one
way to find out,” Roy said, walking towards the last log, and pointing himself
away from the cabin along the trajectory the logs formed.

Steven followed
him, ready to catch him if he fell. “If it gets too bad, please stop and say
something.”

Roy nodded.
He took a step, and then another, along the line formed by the logs. Steven
watched his face. “How’s it feeling?” Steven asked after they had walked about
twenty feet.

“Definitely
not pleasant,” Roy replied.

“Let’s test
it again,” Steven asked. “Step over here.”

Roy side-stepped
the path, following Steven to a spot several paces from the line. “Better,” he
said. “Not dizzy. I think you’ve discovered it.”

“Or
something,” Steven said. They returned to the line and continued into the
woods, walking another fifty feet. Steven kept his eyes on Roy’s face and feet,
looking for any sign of danger.

“How about
now?” Steven asked.

“I feel like
I have the flu,” Roy said. “Very lightheaded. I think…”

Roy looked
like he was going to fall over, and Steven grabbed his arm. Roy buckled and
vomited.

“OK, that’s
enough,” Steven said. “We’re going back.”

-

Steven
brought Roy another bottle of water. “Do you want any more of these?” he asked,
shaking the bottle of pills.

Roy was
laying down on the sofa in the main room of the cabin. “No. Just make me
sicker. Did you check the expiration date on those?”

“What did
you feel out there?” Steven asked. “Tell me what it was like. Were you being
drained?”

“Not
exactly,” Roy answered. “Stronger in some ways, but not the same as back in
town with the shadow.” Roy occasionally winced while talking.

“And how is
it now?” Steven asked.

“A little
better,” Roy said.

“You still
look like you’re in pain.”

“I don’t
think it’s going to get any better than this, at least as long as I’m here. I
should have brought protection.”

“What, the
potion?” Steven scoffed.

“Yes,” Roy
answered sarcastically, “the potion. I didn’t have time to make any more before
we came.”

“How about
some vodka, Dad?” Steven said, lifting a bottle he found on the counter.
“That’d probably work just as well.”

“Maybe,” Roy
said, holding his head again. “It is one of the ingredients.”

Steven put
the bottle down, walked over to Roy.

“I’d like to
follow that path, see what I can find,” Steven said. “There’s no way you’re
going any further, you’re going to have to stay here. Are you OK if I go check
it out?”

Roy nodded.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Go. But remember, if you find it, do not dig it up
until we have a plan.”

“I won’t,”
Steven said. “And I won’t be long. Stay here and rest. But do not sleep.”

Roy waved
him away with his hand. Steven headed out the door, and to the logs.

-

It had been
several minutes since he had progressed beyond the spot where Roy had gotten
sick. He brought several more logs to act as markers. It was easy to lose track
of where you were in the forest, and following a straight line was impossible.
You always had to go around a fallen log, or tree, or bramble, and then attempt
to get back on track. It was still well before noon and if something went wrong
he’d have plenty of daylight to find his way back.
This is no place to be in
the dark
, he thought.

After what
seemed like ten more minutes of walking, the ground began to rise, and in
several places became steep enough that he had to re-think the trajectory. He
hadn’t gone far out of his way when he saw the opening to the cave.

Steven instinctively
knew this was it. He approached the entrance, which was partially hidden by
hanging moss and fallen trees. There was a small stream running out of it. He
checked his watch – he’d been away from the cabin for twenty minutes – he would
spend only a few more in the cave, and see if he could find anything that indicated
a grave.

He stepped
into the entrance, watching his footing. He looked for signs that other people
had been there, but found none – no discarded beer cans or wrappers. If people
came to this cave it was rare. The stream that trickled out of it was small and
not more than an inch deep in places. After a few steps the light dropped
dramatically and Steven retrieved a flashlight from his backpack.

The first
hundred feet of the cave was not roomy. It was easy enough to keep walking, but
the ceiling was only a foot or so above Steven, and claustrophobia began to set
in. He looked for graffiti or carvings on the walls but there were none. After
another fifty feet the light from outside the entrance wasn’t visible. He felt
completely isolated. The pathway continued the same forward as back. He scanned
the ground for signs of disturbance or overturned earth, but the surface was
smooth on either side of the stream. He continued on.