Silas: A Supernatural Thriller (16 page)

With an arthritic finger Ken points at the young man and says, “No laughing and no interrupting, okay?”

“Okay.”

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling. Through the shadows he can see a black form running across the white tiles, chasing a Frisbee, chasing a stick, chasing a…

Yes, Ken realizes, the rest of the tale must be told. For
him
, if for nothing else
.

22

For a span of time I have no way of calculating, I existed in a dream. In this dream Wendy and I were on a long and winding beach. We nuzzled together in the sand, her head in the crook of my arm. A few feet away from us, holding a bright green bucket and wearing a huge grin, was a boy. He played at the edge of the water, slopping mud from his bucket onto a collapsing sand castle. Wendy squeezed my hand and leaned over, planting a kiss on my cheek.
Isn’t he beautiful?
she said. I’d never seen her happier. I desired her more than anything in that moment. I wished I could sprawl her out on the blanket, rip off her bikini, and make mad, passionate love to her right there.

The boy of around eight, our son, approached us. He had a thick mat of black hair atop his head and his body was stocky.
Must take after Wendy’s side
, I thought. He held out his hand and offered me whatever treasure he’d discovered in the crashing waves. It was the strangest looking starfish I’d ever seen, colored a brilliant shade of purple with long, sinewy tendrils snaking off its glimmering body.
That’s very nice
, I said, ruffling the boy’s hair.
What else did you find out there?
The boy smiled at me and shrugged, then moved on to Wendy and showed her the starfish, as well. She reacted to him the same as I, with adoration and affirmation. I gazed with wonder at the two of them and then drew them in close. I could smell Wendy’s lilac perfume and the salt permeating her skin. The boy, our son, then stood on his tiptoes, lips puckered, coming in for a kiss.

I felt a sharp pain in my back and the boy’s countenance withered. I opened my eyes to see a horizon split in half – blue haze beneath the dividing line, swirling crimson above. My head pounded and my mouth felt gritty and dry. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Dirt poured into my lungs. I coughed. It hurt.

Something whimpered to my left and the next moment the side of my face was being molested by a sponge lathered in hot slime. “Cut it out,” I muttered, and then rolled over. There was Silas, sitting so close to me that he might as well have been in my lap, mouth open and panting while beads of drool oozed down his tongue. He leaned in to lick me again but I blocked him. I already felt close to vomiting, what with the ache in my head, droning whir in my ears, and tightness in my gut. Adding slobber to the mix would only make it happen quicker.

My weary brain started on the awkward and painful task of memory. Situations, names, and faces flickered across my mind’s eye. Wendy wanted a divorce. Then there was a dead Bridget Cormier and a rescued Joe and Jacqueline Talbot. And then there was Nick Goodman, the redneck electrician with a black heart. My mood, not all that great to begin with, plummeted with this recollection. The guy had knocked me and Silas out cold. He probably dismantled the Subaru and left us stranded on the mountain, and if that was the extent of it, I would’ve been happy.

But something didn’t seem right. No, not right at all.

The buzzing in my ears, I came to realize, wasn’t a buzz at all. It was a rumbling, crashing,
familiar
sound. Very slowly, I turned around and looked behind me. What I saw shocked me.

Just as in my dream, below me was a long and winding beach of white sand and rock jetties. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was still dreaming. I wasn’t sure of
anything
at that point. And when I felt a breeze blow past and shivered, only to look down and realize I was only wearing my underwear, my insecurity heightened.

I stood up on shaky legs. Silas pranced to my side, using his large frame to keep me from falling. “Thanks, bud,” I said. With uncertainty chopping away at my judgment, I stepped toward the surf.

The beach was at the bottom of a grassy hill, and the sand was hot. It burned as it crept between my toes. Silas sat down beside me, his tail wagging.
Labradors
are water dogs by nature, but I felt thankful that I’d never before brought him to the ocean. He seemed doubtful, and with good reason. The waves were huge, crashing against the jetties with enough force to send shards of black stone skyward every time. On shore, the gently rolling water shot backward as if yanked by a high-tension spring once it reached its apex. I watched a rock the size of a volleyball be snatched away as if it weighed nothing.
That’s one hell of an undertow
, I thought. It all seemed so unreal, I thought I might’ve been hallucinating – an unfortunate byproduct of whatever drugs that bastard Goodman had pumped into me.

Yet the sensations I felt, everything from the hotness beneath my feet to the salt stinging my eyes, said otherwise. I glanced at the sky and my jaw dropped. The sun was out, and it was red and at least twice the size I remembered it. I swore I could see flares licking off its surface.

A high-pitched wail shook the air. I covered my ears and spun around, almost losing my balance in the process. The howling soon stopped, but its reverberations bounced around inside my skull. Silas moved in front of me, his nose pointing toward the forest at the top of the rise. His tail stood straight out and he let loose a low, rumbling snarl.

“What the hell
was
that?” I whispered.

As if to answer me, the yowl echoed through the
midday
sky once more, this time sounding more distant. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my chest.
Probably nothing but a hawk or something
, I thought. The only problem with that reasoning was that it would have to be one
huge
hawk.

After a few minutes of staring at the tips of the trees at the crest of the mount, I smacked my leg. The cold, hard reality of my situation started to sink in. “What do you think, boy?” I asked Silas. “Should we walk the beach or head up the hill?”

Silas barked and glanced up the rise.

“Thought so,” I said. “So where do you think we are, anyway?
Maine
? Were we out long enough for him to cart us all the way to the coast? That doesn’t seem right, does it?”

Again, he barked.

“Yeah, enough conjecture. It’s only gonna drive me crazy.” I started for the hillock, thankful for the cool contrast of the grass underfoot. “I say we get started on the high road,” I continued. “Maybe there’s a town somewhere around here.”

We scaled the verdant cliff face, my lungs burning as my legs pumped away. The sensitive muscle in my chest beat faster and faster. Sweat leaked from my pores. It had to be a hundred degrees outside, or more. By the time we reached the summit, I felt like I was going to pass out.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “HELLO!” My own voice ricocheted back at me, but nothing else. I tried again. “HELLO, ANYBODY THERE!” Still nothing. “Figures,” I muttered. I patted Silas on the top of his head. “Looks like we’re gonna have to brave it alone, bud.” I glanced into the dark forest, packed to the brim with gigantic trees whose trunks were almost as wide as the Redwoods Wendy and I had seen on our trip to
California
a few years back. There could’ve been any sort of wild creature lurking in the confines of these woods, hidden by the barricade of trees, so we stuck to the cliff face.

Luckily the ridge was barren enough to allow for easy passage. I figured that with a little good fortune we’d find a fire road or something along the way. This was the American coast, for Christ’s sake. Wherever there’s an oceanfront, there’s sure to be civilization not too far behind.

I kept an eye on the beach during our trek, hoping to spot someone either picking up seashells or searching for lost nickels with a metal detector. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t see anyone. The shoreline grew even more ragged the further we walked, and before long even the sand disappeared, replaced by an undulating, cracked landscape of weather-beaten stone. Waves crashed closer inland now, striking the cliff on which we strolled. Mist peppered my face. The water was warm, much too warm for the ocean. I shook my head and looked down at Silas.

“Shit, that’s hot,” I said. “Whoever said global warming was a farce?”

Silas stuck his tongue out and lolled his head. Wendy would’ve laughed if she’d seen him. She so loved our dog’s goofy side. The thought of her formed a twang of guilt to cramp my stomach. No matter what problems we were having, she’d most certainly be worried sick about us. I had to find a phone and call her, just to let her know we were fine.

Two hours into our walk and there was no civilization to be found. Clouds rolled in, huge and black, blocking out the massive red sun and bringing about a gratifying chill. Then the rain started, heavy drops that plummeted like ball bearings, stinging my flesh and turning the cliff’s ridge to mud. Pushing aside my fear of the unknown, I darted for the trees with Silas just ahead of me, searching for cover.

Grass didn’t grow beneath the canopy, only ferns and a never-ending system of roots. My foot struck one such root as I ran and I fell. My shoulder connected with a rock and I rolled a few feet before coming to a stop. Silas let loose a panicked yelp.

“I’m okay,” I groaned. He started licking my face. “Okay, okay. I’m fine. No need to panic.”

I was speaking to myself as much as him.

When the pain in my shoulder subsided I sat up and watched the rain fall. I hoped the deluge would end, and soon. I couldn’t tell what time it was, seeing as the clouds had turned daylight into an illusion, and there was no way in
hell
I wanted to find myself stuck out in this strange wilderness after
true
dark. I’d already heard the bellow of one wild animal, and where there’s one, there’s always tons more.

Silas cocked his head as if he’d just remembered he left the gas on and then bounded away through the trees, heading deeper into the wilderness. I called out for him to come back but he ignored me. I heard him rummaging through the underbrush, ruffling leaves and snapping twigs, and then a few minutes later he reappeared. He ran with a lopsided gait, carrying a very large square of some sort in his jaws. When he reached me he dropped his discovery at my feet. I couldn’t help but chuckle as he stared back at me, expecting a reward. Even after everything that’d happened, he was still the same old Silas.

“What’d you get, boy?” I asked.

I picked up the object. It was about two-and-a-half feet wide and two feet tall, only as thick as my thumb, and seemingly made of fiberglass. It had an old, historic feel to it. I brushed dirt off the surface but it was blank. Silas hunkered down a few feet away, pounding the ground with his tail. “What, you wanna fetch this?” I asked. “A little big, isn’t it? Let’s find you something smaller.”

I stood up and tossed the rectangular thing aside. It hit on its edge and then collapsed flat on its opposite side. I stopped in my tracks and stared at it, unbelieving.

There were words on it.
Survival Shelter 6 Miles
, the square proclaimed in decrepit black letters bordered with fluorescent green. And below that, in even more ominous lettering, it said,
Haystack Mountain Refuge – Long Live the Great State of Vermont
.

My body went limp as I stared at the sign. My heart sank and I wished I was dreaming. I opened my mouth to say something to calm myself but only two words came out.

“Oh shit.”

23

That evening, after the blazing red sun set, the cold arrived. I sat beneath the canopy of huge evergreens in the dark as freezing droplets of rain and sleet fell all around me. My tired body implored me to sleep but my mind, alert and on edge in this strange place, allowed me no peace. My bones rattled and every so often I heard strange sounds over the constant patter of rain. They were large noises, like limbs being torn from trees and plummeting to the earth. With fear overcoming me, my only recourse was to close my eyes and wish it all away.