Dark Hollow (12 page)

Despite the chill in the air, I was soon hot, sweaty, and tired. I stumbled along, trying to focus. A thorny vine pricked the back of my hand and drew blood. I brought it to my mouth and accidentally dropped my half-finished cigarette. I bent down to pick it up, and froze.

“Jesus…”

There, in a muddy spot between the leaves, was another cloven-hoofed footprint. Next to it was a huge, stinking pile of feces. Black flies crawled sluggishly over it. I recoiled in disgust.

The others noticed that I’d stopped and came over to see what I’d found. They gathered around me in a circle and stared at the pile of manure. The flies buzzed away, angry at the disturbance.

Bill studied the ground intently. “Don’t tell me you stopped for a pile of dog shit?”

I glanced at Merle and Dale, and then at the rest of the group. Their expressions were confused and irritated.

“The footprint,” I explained, immediately realizing how idiotic it sounded. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Ned smacked his forehead. “It’s a frigging deer print, Mr. Senft. How does that help us? They’re all over these woods.”

“I don’t think so,” Dale commented, his voice low. “It’s much too big for a white-tailed deer, which is all we have in Pennsylvania. That print is human-sized.”

“So it’s a big fucking deer then,” Bill snapped. “We don’t have time for this.”

I picked up a stick and prodded the droppings. The turds were also bigger than a deer’s. I caught a faint whiff of that same musky stench I’d smelled at Shelly’s house.

Seth laughed. “Mr. Senft—dude, what are you doing? You’re playing with fucking dog doody, yo! Wait till I tell everyone.”

Merle towered over him. “Get bent, you little prick.”

“Enough!” Bill shouted. “We don’t have time for this shit.”

All of us were quiet for a few seconds, and then we all began to snicker at the same time. Bill, not understanding his own unintentional pun, took a moment longer, and then he got the joke and smiled.

“Ha-ha,” he said. “Very funny. ‘Time for this shit.’ Can we keep searching now, please?”

The tension between our group dissipated, and we spread out again. Dale, Merle, and I cast one more lingering glance at the footprint, and then we moved on.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dale whispered before heading back to his section of woodland.

The thorn prick on my hand began to itch. As I walked down the trail I saw two more scattered hoof prints, and a half impression that could have been made by a shoe less human foot, but I kept it to myself. I would only be met with derision, and I was tired and sweaty and in no mood to argue. But I made a mental note of the tracks’ locations, so that Dale, Merle, and I could find them again if we needed to.

We ventured deeper into the woods, and the gloom increased. It was midafternoon outside the forest’s perimeter, but beneath those sinister trees we walked in eternal dusk. The farther we went, the darker it got.

“Shit,” Merle muttered. “It’s cold in here. I can see my breath.”

Seth wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. I wondered if he was cold or scared or both.

As we continued on our way I got the distinct impression that the trail had changed in some subtle way. I didn’t know this part of the forest well, having been this far inside only once, but something was off. Where I thought I remembered a curve, the path was straight. Yellow moss covered the forest floor in places where it hadn’t three days ago. It seemed like there were more trees and vines clustered together than there had been before, and I had the uncanny impression that they were watching us and didn’t approve of the intrusion.

The others must have felt it too, because we began to walk closer together, narrowing the distance between us from thirty feet to ten, and then to five. Soon we found ourselves grouped together in the middle of the path.

“This is no good,” Bill complained. “The undergrowth is too thick. Those damn thorn vines are everywhere. Can’t see shit, let alone walk through it.”

“I think I stepped in poison ivy,” Seth moaned. “This sucks.”

For once I think we all agreed with him.

“So what do we do now?” Dale asked, turning to Bill and Ned. “We can’t go on. Not without sickles to clear away this brush.”

Bill toyed with his radio. “I guess we go back to the command center and check in with Chief Hanson. They’ll have to bring the national guard or the forest rangers in here to deal with this. Antonietta Wallace’s body could be lying right here at our feet and we wouldn’t even know it.”

I shuddered at the thought.

“How about this,” Ned suggested. “As we head back out, each of us will take a different section than the one we had coming in. We might as well double-check each other, since we’re going back the same way.”

“Works for me,” Bill said.

We all nodded in agreement, except for Seth, who looked tired and moody. Despite my strong dislike for the kid, I found myself pitying him and decided to cheer him up.

“Hey, man,” I said. “You want another smoke?”

He eyed me warily. “You serious?”

“Sure.”

“Hell, yeah! Hook me up, dog.” His face brightened, and for one second he didn’t look like the town bully, but a regular teenage kid.

I handed him a cigarette, and one of the other civilian volunteers asked me if he could bum one as well. As we lit up, Seth’s attention focused on something farther in the woods.

“What’s that?” He pointed behind us.

We turned and I recognized it immediately. It was the white stone marker, still jutting out from the deadfall. But something was different. It took me a second, but then I realized what it was.

The trees had moved.

When I’d been there with Big Steve the path had been bordered on both sides by a dense wall of black and gray trees. The foliage had formed a tunnel, which led directly into the hollow. Now there was no wall and no tunnel. Even the hollow seemed to be missing. Stranger still, the narrow path now veered away from the stone marker, turning sharply west. It was as if the trees were leading us in a different direction.

“Listen,” I said, and held my finger to my lips.

“What?” Bill asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

I cocked my ear, and after a moment I heard the quiet murmur of a trickling stream. There had been a creek inside the hollow, as well. Which meant one of three things: Either somebody had moved the stone marker, or this was a different one, or… .

Well, I refused to entertain the idea of the third option. The landscape couldn’t have changed itself like this in three days’ time. That would be impossible. Supernatural, even.

Just like the satyr…

“The fuck is that thing?” Seth asked again. “Looks like a tombstone.”

“Let’s have a look,” Ned agreed. “Probably nothing, but it won’t hurt to check, just to be sure.”

We stepped off the path and approached the stone. Above us the tree limbs swayed back and forth.

There was no wind.

“What did you hear, Mr. Senft?” Bill asked me.

“Water,” I said, trying to sound as if everything were normal. “Thought maybe there was a creek or something nearby.”

We reached the vine-covered dead fall and gathered around the marker. Dale knelt beside it and squinted. Hesitantly he reached out and brushed it with his fingertips. He jerked them away as if he’d been shocked.

“What’s wrong?” Merle asked.

“Nothing,” Dale said. “Just static electricity.”

He was lying and I knew it. He’d felt that same weird throbbing sensation that I’d experienced when touching the stone.

I looked over the deadfall, expecting to see the hollow. But instead all I saw was more trees. The hollow was gone as if it had never existed. The stream was still there, but there was no lush grass, and no satyr—statue or otherwise.

Bill nudged me. “Looks like you were right about the creek. You got good ears.”

I saw Merle looking around too, and when he caught my eye he frowned.

I pulled him away from the others and whispered in his ear, “The hollow was here on Monday. I swear to God.”

“Well, it ain’t here now, Adam,” he whispered back. “You sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing?”

“No. I’m not crazy, Merle. It was here. Right over there—beyond the stone. I told you about the marker, and there it is, right? Well, the hollow was there, too.”

“So what happened to it?”

I glanced around and made sure the others weren’t listening. “I think the trees moved.”

“What?”

“You said it yourself Monday afternoon. You said there’s stories about the trees moving in here.”

“At LeHorn’s Hollow, but we’re far from there.”

“You also said that maybe LeHorn’s Hollow infects the rest of this place. Now, if you’ll accept folklore that the trees move down near LeHorn’s, why is it so hard for you to believe they moved here, trying to hide the hollow I saw Monday morning?”

He muttered something, but I couldn’t hear him.

“What?” I asked.

Merle grabbed my arm. “Because I’m scared to believe. All right?”

“I am too, Merle. I am too. But we need to talk about this shit.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Okay. We’ll talk about it later.”

The rest of the search team was still studying the stone and hadn’t noticed our private exchange.

“So what is that thing?” Seth asked a third time.

“I think you were right, kid,” Ned told him. “It looks like an old grave.”

Seth scrambled away from it.

Bill scratched his chin. “Do you think one of the missing could be buried here?”

“No,” Ned replied. “Look at the ground. It hasn’t been recently disturbed. And check out the writing. That’s old.”

Dale let his index finger hover just over the carved letters, tracing them in the air.

DEVOMLABYRINTHI

NLEHORNPOSSVIT

PROPTERNVPTIAS

QUASVIDITSVBVMRA

“Anybody know what it says?” Bill asked.

“I’ve seen this before,” Dale whispered. “But I can’t remember where.”

“I think it’s Latin,” one of the civilian searchers said. “Or some weird version of it, anyway.”

“Pig Latin,” Ned joked, but nobody laughed. They kept staring at the stone.

Merle stirred. “It’s getting darker. We should get back. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to be in these woods after dark. They give me the fucking creeps.”

“No arguments here,” Bill agreed. “Looks like this is just another dead end anyway.”

We turned back to the path, and I swear it had moved again while our backs were turned. As we’d approached the trail had led to the west, away from the stone marker. Now it ran straight up to where we stood, and pointed back the way we’d come. It seemed wider, too as if the trees had drawn back to give us more room to walk side by side, rather than single file, allowing for a quicker exit. We took advantage of it.

I didn’t voice my fears, and if any of the others noticed the shifting path they didn’t comment on it. But I noticed that as we started back up the trail they each moved a little faster, and they all kept looking upward, as if expecting a tree limb to come crashing down on top of us at any moment.

“Those trees give me the creeps,” Seth said.

“Me too,” Bill agreed. “The township ought to let the pulp wood company over in Spring Grove come in here with some chain saws and clear them out.”

A branch creaked above us.

We walked faster. Bill and Ned took the lead. Bill tried radioing ahead, but he couldn’t get any reception beneath the foliage. The three civilians were in the middle. Seth followed them, and Merle, Dale, and I brought up the rear.

As we left we all heard something behind us, coming from deep inside the forest. It sounded far away—and yet all too close.

Everybody stopped and spun around.

“The fuck is that?” Bill hissed. His eyes were wide.

“Sounds like a flute,” Seth whispered. “Maybe Jethro Tull is in the woods.”

“Shut up,” Merle warned him. He’d balled his hand sup into fists, and his knuckles were white. His lips were pulled into a tight grimace, and I realized he was just as uneasy as I was.

The shepherd’s pipe continued to play; a high, lilting melody. It was definitely getting closer.

Like clockwork my penis began to stiffen. I noticed that the others were affected by the music too. Each of them had a bulge in his pants.

The leaves rustled over our heads. As I watched, the tree limbs shook. I opened my mouth to speak and found that I couldn’t. The music filled my ears and my cock grew harder. The others seemed frozen too. They stood there, listening and aroused.

Ned finally stirred and tugged on Bill’s arm. Bill jumped.

“It’s got nothing to do with what we’re looking for,” Ned said. His voice had taken on a pleading tone. “Let’s just leave, okay? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Blinking, Bill shook his head, as if awakening from a dream. He glanced down at the bulge in his pants.

“Yeah, man. I think that’s a good idea.”

We left, and the music faded, along with our erections.

We were quiet for the trip back, each person lost in his thoughts, or maybe too shocked to speak. When we finally stepped out from under the trees and back into the sunlight again, everyone’s spirits seemed to soar. Suddenly they were all laughing and joking as if none of it had happened. And maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it had just been my overactive writer’s imagination.

But I knew that wasn’t true, and when I saw Dale’s and Merle’s expressions, I knew they didn’t believe it either.

Bill and Ned thanked us for our help, and then walked away to give their report. Seth gave me a curt nod and said, “Thanks for the smokes, dog,” and then slunk away. The other three members of our team also left.

Dale, Merle, and I walked across the playground and headed home.

Merle sighed. “So…no luck finding them.”

“No,” I agreed.

“I’ll tell you guys one thing,” Merle said. “I’ve had enough of the fucking woods to last me all summer. Don’t think I’ll go camping this year.”

I laughed, but Dale remained quiet and pensive.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.