The Summoning (15 page)

Was this a sanctuary for him?

He tried the doors – they were unlocked. He pushed his way inside the holy place.

Inside, the church was a vast hall. Two wide rows of pews led down to a podium on a stage in the distance. Off to the right, there was a section on the stage for a choir. A large cross with the figure of Jesus hung on the wall right below a massive stained glass window. The morning sun shined through the stained glass window, creating different colored lights that flooded the stage, the podium, and the pews below.

It’s beautiful, Ryan thought. So beautiful in here.

But he was reluctant to enter the church any further.

Why?

You know why, his mind whispered. And he could’ve sworn he heard that same voice snickering – and it didn’t even seem like his own voice in his mind anymore, it sounded more like the red-haired man’s voice now.

Ryan made himself enter this holy place. He made himself walk past each row of pews. He was mesmerized by the cross and the figure of Jesus with the beautiful lights shining down on them from the stained glass windows.

“Can I help you?”

The voice made Ryan jump. He turned and saw a young reverend standing in a doorway that led off to other rooms from this main sanctuary.

Ryan hurried down to the front of the pews and walked past the stage and podium on his way to the young revered who looked a little nervous.

“You’re a little early for services, friend,” the reverend said and offered a practiced chuckle at the end of his sentence to try and ease the tension.

Ryan stopped walking towards the reverend; he could tell he was making him nervous. “I need help.”

“What’s wrong?” the reverend asked, but his eyes darted around like he might be looking for some help for himself. Or an escape route.

“I … I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not real anymore,” Ryan said, his voice beginning to choke up.

“Slow down, son,” the young reverend said, and he held out a placating hand to Ryan. “Just take it easy.”

Ryan took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. “I woke up a few days ago in a motel room and there was this duffel bag full of money. I don’t know where I got it. I don’t remember anything before that. I just knew that I needed to get here to this town. I knew that there were answers here for me about my past.”

The young reverend tried a comforting smile on Ryan, but he still looked like he might bolt at any second if things got too far out of control.

“I don’t know how I can help you,” the reverend said in a gentle voice. “Maybe your problem is for someone different. A doctor, maybe. Or the police.”

Ryan took a step closer to the young man. “You don’t understand. I need help. There’s someone after me. He comes to me in my dreams. He’s … he’s been tortured and he shows me things – things I don’t want to see.”

“Just calm down, sir.” The young reverend’s voice had gotten louder and sterner.

“I don’t know who I am,” Ryan growled. “I don’t know who I was, what I’ve done.”

Ryan took another step closer to the young reverend.

The reverend took a step back, closer to the doorway he’d just come out of.

And from that same doorway an older reverend exploded out from the shadows. He was in his mid-sixties, tall and solid, and his eyes burned with fire. His face was set; his mouth was a grim line. He carried a worn bible in one of his large hands. “You stop right there!” the old reverend shouted at Ryan.

Ryan was caught off guard. He stared at the two men in their black coats and white collars. “You don’t understand …”

“I understand perfectly what you are and what you’ve brought into this house of God!” the older reverend shouted. “You’re not welcome here!” He held his bible out in front of him like a weapon, like a priest from the movies trying to exorcise a demon.

“Leave!!” the older reverend yelled as he took another step forward. The younger reverend moved out of the old man’s way. There was fear in the old man’s eyes, just like the younger reverend’s eyes, but there was also anger in those eyes, a holy fury. “Leave this instant!”

Ryan took a few steps back. He could feel helpless tears spilling out of his eyes. “I just want some help.”

The older reverend’s eyes narrowed, but they never left Ryan for an instant. “There’s no help for you now,” he growled.

The words hit Ryan like a punch to his gut.

He turned and ran out of the church. He ran back to his car. The morning was brighter and the streets were busier as he got into his car.

Ryan needed some help – he only knew of one place he could go.

Carol sat in her kitchen. She didn’t have any lights on and there was no breakfast cooking on the stove. The only thing she’d done was make a pot of coffee. She sipped her coffee and stared at the kitchen as the day brightened outside.

She had been sitting in the kitchen for a long time.

Victor entered the kitchen and he looked at Carol, but he didn’t say anything to her. He walked over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of coffee. He dumped some cream in and a spoonful of sugar. He was supposed to cut down on coffee and sugar, but he had a feeling he might need a little extra boost this morning.

He sat down at the small table across from Carol. He sipped his coffee and looked at her.

Carol finally looked at him. “What is it, Victor?”

“You know what it is.”

“I’m really not in the mood for games this morning.”

“I saw you go into his room yesterday.”

Carol wasn’t surprised. She knew Victor had a habit of peeking out through his keyhole in the door or even through the crack when the door was ajar.

Victor’s expression softened a little. “What were you doing in there? You know you’re not supposed to go into a tenant’s room.”

“I know. I never go in your room, or Tom’s room. Never.”

“I know that, Carol. I would never accuse you.” Victor sipped his coffee, choosing his words carefully. “But Ryan is different, isn’t he?”

Carol didn’t say yes, but she didn’t have to.

“What’s wrong with him?” Victor said, and his eyes were suddenly alive with excitement. “Does he have a criminal past? You find drugs?”

Carol shook her head no; she wished it was something so simple. She looked at him and she couldn’t hide it from him any longer.

“Worse than that?” Victor asked, and he didn’t look so excited anymore.

Carol nodded.

“You want to talk about it?” Victor said and he reached out and touched her hand gently.

“Not here,” Carol said. “Let’s go take a walk.”

Ryan pulled up in front of Amber’s house, he nearly screeched to a stop. He slammed the shifter into park and shut off the engine. He jumped out of his car and ran up the cracked walkway to Amber’s front door.

He knew it was still early, but he didn’t care. He pounded on the door.

“Amber!” he yelled. “It’s me, Ryan! I need to talk to you!”

Moments later Gary answered the door, he wore a pair of baggy shorts and a stained T-shirt. The little bit of hair he had left was frizzy from sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, but he still gave Ryan his shark-smile. “Well, well. Look who it is, Romeo coming to pick up his sweet, innocent Juliet.”

Ryan stared at Gary with his cold blue eyes. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Look, motherfucker, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”

Gary took a step back from the doorway, and for a moment Ryan saw true fear in those eyes.

Behind Gary, Amber materialized out of the gloom. She had thrown on a robe over her oversized T-shirt and silky pajama bottoms; her hair looked messy, but she didn’t seem to care. She seemed worried.

“Ryan,” she said. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Ryan looked past Gary like he wasn’t even there. “Remember when you said you would help me in any way you could?”

Amber nodded. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

Gary turned and watched her walk away. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Anywhere she wants to,” Ryan growled at him and stepped into the house.

Gary backed up a few steps, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Hey, man. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Ryan closed the door and didn’t say a word – he just stared at Gary.

Gary shook his head and tried to muster up his tough act, but Ryan wasn’t fooled, he could see the fear in the big man’s eyes. “I’m going back to my room,” Gary said. “And you’d better be gone when I get back out.”

Ryan just stared at Gary.

Gary walked out of the living room to the hallway. “Both of you,” he said over his shoulder.

Less than ten minutes later Ryan and Amber were driving away from her house.

“Where are we going?” Amber asked.

“The woods,” he said as he drove.

Amber didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I need to see that shack in the woods.” He glanced at her. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No,” she told him. “I want to.” She wanted to tell him that the shack wasn’t there anymore, that it had been torn down after the murders. But then she thought maybe it would be better for him to see for himself.

Ryan parked his car on the side of the road by the trail that led into the dark woods. He got out and stuffed his keys into his pants pocket. Amber got out and looked around at the tall trees surrounding them.

“You sure you want to go with me?” Ryan asked her one more time. “You can stay here if you want to.”

She shook her head no. “I’ll try to help you out however I can. I’m no expert about the murders, but I’ll try.”

Ryan smiled for the first time all morning. He felt like hugging her and kissing her. Holding her. It would make him feel so much better. But he had to get this done – after last night’s dream there was no putting it off any longer. He had to see the shack. He had to see if it triggered his memories.

They walked to the trail and stepped easily over the sagging No Trespassing sign that was rusty at the edges. They started their trek into the woods.

The woods got darker and the trees closer together the farther they ventured in, and the trail grew narrower and more overgrown with brush and ferns. It was becoming difficult to tell where the trail continued in some places, but Ryan pushed on, almost like he could tell where the trail went.

From memory.

Fifteen minutes later they could see the clearing.

And they could see the shack.

Amber stopped dead in her tracks and stared. She couldn’t believe it – the shack was still here. She’d always been told that it had been torn down.

Ryan hurried into the clearing and stared at the shack. It looked just like the shack from his dreams. It was the same place, he knew it. He caught his breath, and then he had to force himself to breathe.

“It’s the same place,” Ryan whispered into the forest air.

Amber caught up to him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the same place from my dream,” he turned and stared at her with wide, insane eyes. “I followed the tortured man in my dreams last night and this is where he took me.”

Amber felt a chill run up and down her body on tiny spider legs, but she walked with Ryan to the sagging front steps that led up to a simple door.

Ryan walked over to a window at the side of the shack – the same window he’d stood next to in his dream, the same cobwebs and peeling paint, the same cracked window panes. He walked back around to the front and climbed the steps up to the front door. The rotting wood of the steps sagged with each of his steps, but each step held his weight. He tried the door handle, but it was locked. Or maybe the door was stuck.

“This isn’t supposed to be here,” Amber said in a low voice. “It was supposed to have been torn down ten years ago.”

Ryan looked at Amber. “But it’s here.”

“I know, but …” Amber shook her head in confusion. Maybe it had been a rumor that the shack was torn down. Maybe she hadn’t remembered correctly. But that didn’t seem right, she was sure that it had been torn down.

“The killer lived here?” Ryan asked, snapping Amber’s attention back to him.

“I don’t think he lived here,” Amber said. “I think he just used this place to torture and kill people. I don’t really know. Sorry.” But she couldn’t really trust her memory anymore now that she was standing on the sagging front step of this shack that wasn’t supposed to be here anymore.

Ryan didn’t say anything. He turned back to the door and kicked at it. It only took one more kick to smash the door open.

He entered the shack and the inside was the same as it was in his dream – one large room with paneled walls and exposed roof trusses. But there was no homemade wooden table to torture people with. He stared down at the floor and he swore he could still see dark bloodstains ingrained in the wood floorboards. He could feel Amber standing slightly behind him.

The same place the red-haired man in my dreams stood,
his mind whispered to him.

“What was the killer’s name?” Ryan asked – it was the question he really wanted to ask, but he was afraid he already knew the answer.

“I don’t know what his real name was,” she told him. “I know that the news called him Cutter.”

Carol and Victor strolled down the sidewalk along Fourth Street. Her house was a few blocks behind them now. They were both walking slowly, at a leisurely pace. This was the route that Carol walked a few times a week. She liked to walk at this time in the morning because the kids were in school, people were at work, and the early morning joggers were already done for the day. It was peaceful this time of day and she usually had the wide sidewalks to herself.

“There’s a reason I went into Ryan’s room,” Carol told Victor as they walked.

“You know you can’t just go into his room like that,” Victor said. “I know it’s your house, but he’s still a tenant. If you suspect something, then you need to call the police.”

Carol ignored Victor’s lecture.

Victor watched her for a moment while they walked. “Just tell me what it is. I can help you.”

They stopped walking and Victor took Carol’s hands into his.