The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3) (24 page)

 

 

 

 

The night sky was peaceful, quiet, and full of stars. Even out here, in the middle of Sycamore, such beauty couldn't be masked by fear. The serenity was a reprieve from the arduous hiking they'd completed. Now, they waited back at the ranger's jeep with a new arrival.

Hazel Cunningham was safe. Barefoot, scratched, but unhurt. She was mostly silent but her curious eyes were a far cry from traumatized—Maxim figured she felt a mix of shock, joy, and relief. She was comforted by Diego's firm embrace, and she even giggled once or twice.

As heavenly as the moment was, the rumbling that sliced the air was a welcome interruption. The view was marred by a sharp streamer of light above. When the spotlight crossed over their crew, it temporarily blinded them. The airlift had arrived.

The three men instinctively ducked as the chopper set down on the dirt road. The sheriff's office Search and Rescue Unit was a volunteer arm of the department that had been on standby since this began. The rotors of the chopper spun wildly, drowning out all other sounds. Maxim nodded to Diego and Briggs and they nodded back. There was no way not to be proud of the moment. Secretly, Maxim knew each of them had feared what they had just accomplished was impossible. Wins like this were few and far between.

"I'm going with them," yelled Diego over the noise.

Maxim understood. He'd stayed with Annabelle every step of the way until she was safely in the clinic, and even the whole night afterwards. He recognized Diego's investment. What the man chose to be a part of. Maxim couldn't begrudge the biker that. Hell, he respected him more for it.

Into the dense wilderness, in the direction they had come, Maxim noticed a white glow burning through the foliage. He pointed it out just as Diego was turning to go.

"There it is," said Maxim. His thoughts returned to the night he first met Annabelle. "I've seen that before."

Ranger Briggs squinted and shined a light at the blossom. Diego's eyes flashed and he stepped back to the detective.

"No, Maxim," he shouted over the helicopter. "You can't follow the lights. I tried it before."

Alice Radford had said something similar. Stay away from the water. Hide from the light. But there it was, gracefully moving on the wind. Flowing. Dancing. Growing in brilliance.

Maxim turned back to his friend. "Why not?"

The biker shook his head emphatically. It was difficult under the blare of the rotors, so his words were short. "It'll kill you."

The detective was about to protest when Ranger Briggs cut in.

"He's right, Maxim. There're a lot of things in these parks best avoided."

Maxim studied him inquisitively. "You mean Sycamore."

Briggs cleared his throat. "The Sycamore Canyon Wilderness. There are things out there we're not meant to understand."

"You said you didn't believe the stories."

The ranger shrugged. "Hell, if I told every person I met the things I've seen, they'd put me in a straitjacket. I've been patrolling these woods for years now. The little I know is to never stray from your path. That's how people get themselves killed. Those lights won't approach our vehicle."

For the first time, Diego and the ranger were in full agreement. Maxim understood the message. He knew it was a risk, but that was part of his job. "But Lachlan Munro's out there," he countered.

A rescue technician hopped off the helicopter and sprinted towards them. The three men huddled close to strategize.

"We can get him later," said Diego.

"He's right," said Briggs. "It's only gonna get darker and colder out here. We can pick this up in the morning."

Maxim worked his jaw. "Red was at Wounded Ranger Tank. And he's out there now. I know it. How easy will it be to get this close to him again?"

The chopper tech reached them and shone a small flashlight in Hazel's eyes. She responded as one would expect, and he didn't appear concerned. He leaned close to Diego's ear. "We need to get her loaded up."

Diego nodded. "Me too."

"One of you is okay," said the tech. Diego reluctantly handed him the girl and the tech split off towards the chopper.

The biker ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't leave her, Maxim. Not after all this." Maxim noticed that Diego avoided looking him in the eye. "I want Red. Bad. But I need to make sure Hazel's safe." Before Maxim could respond, Diego headed for the chopper.

Maxim cursed and followed the mysterious light with his eyes. Giving this up felt wrong. Maybe he could convince Briggs to back him up. Just then the ranger pointed out another flickering further south. Maxim saw it but thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed them and scanned the surroundings.

No less than five wandering lights circled their position.

Maxim broke into a run for Diego, who had just boarded the helicopter.

"Something's happening," he bellowed. "It's now or never."

Diego pounded a fist against the helicopter cabin. "Don't you get it, Maxim? You could follow those beacons forever. You'll never catch them. They're not human."

"It's not me who's doing the catching."

Ranger Briggs remained by his jeep and was on the radio. The two techs in the chopper were confused by the magical sight. Maxim even saw fear on Diego's face.

The detective leaned in to the chopper so the man could hear him better. "Think about it. Wherever Munro goes, they follow."

"If you go out there," said Diego firmly, as one last warning, "you might never come back. Red is prepared. He has iron on his leg and in his hand."

That was true. Maxim had no idea what caused the strange fires in the forest. He wondered exactly what Diego had experienced when he'd encountered them. For all the old man's crazy ramblings, he surely knew more about these specters than any of them did, including Kayda. He thought about Munro, and what the autistic daughter had said, and then it hit him.

"Diego. If Red knows about the green children, then he knows about the lights." Diego studied the detective but didn't get it. Maxim explained it plainly and swiped his hand at the ghostly fires all around them. "Red knows to avoid the lights." As Maxim's arm circled the terrain, it stopped at a facing due north. The oblong moon shone down on them; the cardinal direction was notable because it was the only area devoid of the dancing torches.

Maxim and Diego exchanged knowing expressions.

"They're herding him," insisted Maxim. Immediately, and for the second time tonight, the detective bounded away from the others and headed into the wild north.

 

 

 

 

Diego clenched his jaw as he watched the detective. He grimaced when Maxim disappeared into the brush. He may have had a magazine of lead and another of silver, but neither would do him any good against the orbs of light. The biker hefted his Benelli M4 over his shoulder, knowing his friend would need it.

"Strap in!" yelled the tech over the rotor noise. The man clicked a three-point belt across his shoulders. Hazel was already strapped to a gurney.

Diego's face contorted, but he relaxed as he considered the girl. She would be safe, at least. He squeezed her hand gently. "I'll be back, Hazel. I promise." Then the biker jumped off the chopper and waved them away.

The makeshift road wasn't a developed area, but there was enough open space to land the helicopter and get your bearings from the stars. All that disappeared twenty yards into the trees. There, the canopy took over. The vegetation crept together. The headlights from Dan's jeep faded behind him, and the darkness closed in.

Except, of course, for the incandescent ghosts that drifted around them.

The flares were on all sides of him except ahead. As Diego ran, he checked behind him. Somehow, the lights had gained on him. Had they crossed the road already? Had the ranger seen them pass?

The biker pressed ahead, a feeling of anxiety sweeping over him. He'd had a close call with one of these things before. Simply being near one was gut-wrenching. He sprinted harder to keep ahead of them, and a dark thought crossed his mind: what if he and Maxim were the ones being herded?

The outlaw raced further. He didn't see Maxim, but he moved where his gut told him to, where the lights weren't. Finally, after what seemed like ten minutes of full-press running, he heard the detective shout.

"Sanctuary Marshal's Office! Don't move."

As Diego had predicted, Maxim was straight ahead. But there was still a bramble of trees in the way; he didn't yet have eyes on the detective. The biker swapped his shotgun to his firing hand and surged ahead.

"I said don't move you bastard!"

Diego finally crested a hill and could see the forest ahead. The canopy was thinner and allowed the moonlight through. At the end of a small dip, another hill rose in their path, this one much steeper. From his vantage, he could see Red clambering up the side. The iron on his leg must have been slowing him down, but he was still limber for his age. He made good time up the steep ledge, using his pike for support.

At the bottom of the valley, Maxim sprinted after him, pistol in hand. The biker was still two minutes behind him.

Diego scanned his surroundings and noticed the hill he was on ran along the right side of the canyon. The route was more circular, but it led to the top of the distant hill without a change in elevation. It was easier than climbing the ledge, and he might beat Red to the punch.

Diego turned on his heel and raced tangentially to the action. He went over how this would go down in his head. Given that he successfully flanked Red, the old man would need to deal with threats from both sides. The key was to keep Red at a safe distance, out of reach of his pole. As far as Diego figured, that was the only trick left in Red's bag.

That didn't mean he wouldn't be careful. Diego wouldn't hesitate to fill the old man with buckshot. It would only take one wrong move. And Diego wouldn't be sorry.

As the biker circled the men, he realized the fault in his plan. Ahead of him, a fluttering glow grew in intensity. The men were being corralled, and Diego was running straight for the fences. Straight at the threat. He squinted against the oncoming light and hastened to the bend, where he turned and galloped ahead. Once he cleared the valley, he'd be heading away from the blooms again. He should be safe then, at least from them.

The woods grew thick again. Diego lost sight of the other men. But he was making great progress, and he had no doubt he would beat the old man. He banked around the turn, hopped up a couple of rocks, and found himself on the far hill.

He saw the old man still navigating the incline now. Red was almost at the top, where he would head down a trail alongside the rock face. Diego burst ahead when he saw he could skirt around from the other side and cut him off.

The ground became rockier, the dirt sandy. Diego's leather boots lost purchase a couple of times and he slowed down. It wasn't about being careful as much as being silent. His ambush wouldn't work if Red heard him coming.

When Diego reached the large boulder, he understood the terrain he was dealing with. As it lowered to the adjoining path that Red was on, he saw the stark drop-off on the other side. They'd be confronting the old man along a ridge. Diego decided to press his back against the rock and wait for Red, lest he risk falling into the canyon below.

The Benelli was ready in his hand. Diego took care to hold it up so it wouldn't peek out past the edge where Red could see. The biker considered how easy it would be to take Red out from here. He simply needed to wait for the man to pass and he could shoot him in the back and watch him tumble to his death. It would be so easy.

As much as he wanted to, Diego told himself to let Red make the first move. Maybe he was inspired by what he thought Maxim would do, but it felt right to let Red decide his own fate. The biker patted his wrist and felt his knife under the sleeve of his heavy jacket. The blade was silver, and it might work in a pinch, but he thought about what Kayda had said. It was ironic, but this was a case where a plain-old steel knife would have served him better.

A silent breath to calm his nerves. A wiggle of his hand to loosen his trigger finger. A shift in posture to trade the weight between his feet. Diego waited, and it wasn't long before he knew something was wrong.

Red wasn't advancing up the trail. Given his hatred for the things in the forest, it was the only path that made sense. Diego had risked approaching them, but they were only getting closer. It was only getting more risky.

Diego rounded the corner and jutted his shotgun out. The ridge was clear. The biker stepped ahead on the rocky ground and listened. The crunch under his boots was all he could make out until he heard the gunshots.

Instead of Red walking into an ambush, he'd set one up himself.

Diego charged toward the reports. He heard three more pops, and some yelling. When he cleared the cliff wall, he saw Maxim sprawled out on the ground. He wasn't holding his weapon.

Red advanced on the detective and swung his heavy weapon. The pole arced overhead and Maxim rolled away just in time. The metal hit solid ground with unusual strength and rang like a tuning fork.

Diego didn't hesitate. He lined up his ghost ring sight and fired the 12-gauge at Red's back.

The old man twisted around from the impact. His eyes went wide as he recognized that he'd been cut off. Surrounded. With Maxim still on the ground favoring his right hand, Diego silently begged the old man to give him a reason to fire again. Red's eyes glinted in the moonlight, and he took a menacing step towards Diego.

The autoloader released another round. This one impacted the old man in the chest. He lost his footing and fell to his knee. His right leg, the one supported by the metal brace, jutted out stiffly to the side.

That wasn't exactly the reaction Diego had hoped for.

12-gauge buckshot wasn't for hobbyists. It wasn't for shooting pheasants or sporting clays. This was for wild game, and Diego would happily depend on it to take down a bear. While Red didn't exactly shrug off the blow, somehow he'd found the strength to stay mostly upright.

"You're right, Diego," said Maxim, rising to his feet. "He's immune to lead. I wasn't sure if I'd hit him back at Echo Canyon, but he took three to the chest and acted like nothing happened."

Diego stepped forward, keeping careful aim on the wild man. "You should come out hunting with us more often, Maxim."

The detective narrowed his eyes.

Diego explained. "You've heard about lead poisoning. It's awful for the environment. And for your body. Who wants to shoot a deer and accidentally eat a lead pellet? Not to mention all the metal that gets left behind in the forest."

Red clutched his pike with his left hand and his chest with the other. His head faced the floor, and he rasped heavily.

"What the hell are you talking about, Diego?"

"Lead isn't iron," he answered. "These things—these creatures of the forest—it's iron and steel that poison them. Silver and lead won't get the job done."

Maxim turned a skeptical eye to Red. "What's that got to do with hunting?"

"Lead buckshot's not the only alternative anymore, Maxim. My M4's loaded with pure steel." The outlaw took another step towards the downed man. "Okay, Red. Drop the pole."

The old man chuckled, a rumbling deep from his belly, and he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with hate.

"Idiot," he coughed, spittle on his lips. "I am of the highlands, not the forest."

Diego snorted. "Tell it to someone who gives a fuck."

The biker's boot upended the pole planted in the dirt. Without the support, Red fell forward on his face. He grunted and lay motionless, still gripping the pike tightly. Diego moved forward to step on his hand. And that's when Red surprised them both.

The old man swung his arm along the floor, swiping the pole at the biker's legs. Diego, unprepared to defend the blow, had his legs swept out beneath him. He fell to his side as Red pounced to his feet.

"I am not like
them
," he boomed. "I keep the metal for them, but I cannot be hurt by it, iron or otherwise."

Red expertly swung his weapon around. Diego aborted his plan of firing the Benelli and instead held it with both hands to counter the blow. The crash of metal jarred the shotgun loose, and Diego fell back again.

"It's you who's going to die out here," said Red to both of them. "If not by my hand, then by them." His pike pointed to the beacons of light that cut through the darkness and converged on them. They'd stopped their advance, though, as if afraid to approach.

The old man readied another blow but Maxim jumped on his back, clasping him in a bear hug, pulling the pole close to his body where it couldn't be freely swung. The hermit tried to wriggle away but Maxim held strong.

Diego lurched forward and tugged his knife loose from its sheath. Red elbowed Maxim hard enough to force the detective to the floor, but the distraction was good enough. Diego plunged his blade between Red's ribs.

The old man roared. He grasped for Diego, but the biker ducked under his arms and went for the pike. Red swung it wildly with both arms, knife protruding from his chest.

It was Maxim's turn again. He kicked Red's back, pushing him off balance and toward the edge of the ridge. The man was too strong, however. He kept his balance and backed away. He pulled the knife from his chest and flung it to the ground, then readied another swing of his iron.

Diego lowered his shoulder and barreled forward, striking Red in his wounded chest. The man backed precariously closer to the ledge. He panicked and spun around, switching places with Diego. The biker ducked to the ground to brace himself against slipping and grabbed the iron pike. At the same time, Maxim mimicked Diego's move and put his shoulder into Red's side. Again the old man spun away from the edge of the hill.

Only this time, his grip on the pole came loose.

Diego yanked so hard he thought to throw Red off the cliff. Instead, the old man released his weapon and watched as it careened over the ledge, tumbling down the rocks which they had climbed.

His eyes widened. "You fools!"

Diego searched the ground for his M4 and saw it past Red. He lunged and skidded in the dirt to grab it. Meanwhile, Maxim backed away as the old man swiped at him.

Somewhere on the fringes of the hill, the lights danced closer.

Diego snatched up his shotty in one hand and spun around, expecting to see Red engaged with Maxim. Instead, the spry man was swinging a large fist his way. The biker couldn't get the gun up to block the attack in time, so he raised his right arm.

Diego had taken many punches in his lifetime. None like this. His arm pressed into his chest and the continued force slammed him into the ground. One second he was readying his M4 one-handed, the next he was catching his breath on the ground. If it wasn't for the steel reinforcement in his motorcycle jacket, he was sure his arm would have snapped in half.

Diego rolled to his stomach and saw Red scamper down the trail that he'd planned on ambushing him on. The biker turned to his friend and saw him wincing in pain from a similar blow.

"He's running from us," said Maxim in disbelief.

"No," said Diego, forcing himself to his feet and recovering his bloody knife. He waved it at the converging flares, once again brightening. "He's running from them. And I think we should, too."