HEX (27 page)

“Oh, Jesus, it
is
him,” Lawrence said with a husky voice.

“Fletcher!”

Driven by an uncontrollable impulse, Tyler sprang forward to leave the trail and go into the woods, but Lawrence grabbed him by his sleeve and pulled him back. “Oh no, you don't! You stay right here!”

“Fletcher!” Tyler hissed again, and he whistled quietly. Lawrence joined him. For a moment Tyler imagined he could hear panting … and then he was convinced that he hadn't imagined it, that it was really there. Again it moved. There was no doubt that Fletcher was within earshot—if it
was
Fletcher, of course, but why act as if it wasn't? He couldn't be more than fifty feet uphill, although sound carried in strange ways at night. But why didn't he come? Tyler imagined Fletcher out there, sniffing in the dark, blind and deaf, his tongue lolling in his mouth, and unable to find his way home …

Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness.

It was Colton Mathers's voice and it was in his head, but it didn't give him any measure of reassurance because it was immediately followed by another voice, popping up out of nowhere, as if Katherine herself were whispering in his head:
Nibble, nibble like a mouse, tomorrow everyone will die.

Suddenly Tyler had a brain wave, as cold as a handful of black ice. The Maglite began to shake uncontrollably and he grabbed hold of Lawrence. “They say Katherine raised her son from the dead, right? Isn't that why they hanged her? Do you believe that? Do you believe she can raise the dead?”

“Fuck off.” It sounded like a sob.

“What if she…”

“I don't know. But I don't think it's Fletcher out there, man. If it
is
Fletcher, why doesn't he come?”

“Fletcher!”

“Stop it!”

The air filled with a wild flapping, and in a flash a snow-white owl flew through the ray of the Maglite. The boys screamed and jumped into each other's arms. The bird shrieked, and with powerful wingbeats disappeared in the direction of the dilapidated wooden cabin on Lookout Point, where they'd spent many a summer night as children and where you could have the best picnics in the world, but which would surely be made of cake if you let this owl guide you, with gingerbread roof tiles and white sugar window frames. And all at once Tyler knew for certain that he didn't want to see what was slinking around them in the dark, even if it really was Fletcher, because if Fletcher was dead, then this was a horror that would instantly strip you of your sanity.

The next thing he knew they were running, and Tyler heard it coming after them, reducing the distance between them with laughable ease. The Maglite cleaved the path in front of them in a freak light show. Sometimes Lawrence was up front and sometimes Tyler, and they would scream at each other, “Not so fast, wait for me!” but neither of them slowed down. At some point Tyler thought he heard the jingling of metal, and it made him think of the buckle of Fletcher's collar.

Of course the trail of kibble ended not much farther down the hill. You know how it goes with such trails that are meant to lead little boys out of the woods. Yet, oddly enough, that soothed Tyler's panic, and deep in his heart he felt a strong sense of belonging because he knew exactly where they were: out in the middle of nowhere being chased by a nightmare straight out of a fairy tale, and at the end of the trail was Black Spring. At the end of the trail was always Black Spring, the end-of-the-line from the cold outside world, where no one knew their names or their way of life.

After that his memory began to fade; his consciousness must have shut down in an instinctive attempt at self-preservation. Apparently they had reached the end of the trail, because the first thing he became aware of was stubbing his toe against something and flying headfirst into Philosopher's Creek. Ice-cold water swirled past his face, stiffened his cheeks, and soaked into his clothes right down to his naked skin. His mouth opened wide to let out a scream and was filled with liquid sand. That brought him back to reality, and half a beat later Tyler was up on his knees, gagging and slapping the water out of his face. Later he would realize that he had been tottering on the edge of madness at that point; the idea that he had ingested water and sediment from
that
creek was more than any sane person could bear. He clearly heard a click in his head, like the opening of enormous iron floodgates … and then Lawrence dragged him up and Tyler splashed onto the bank.

They stumbled over the enclosure, staggered down the path to the backyard, and dropped onto the lawn in front of the horses' stable, utterly exhausted.

And because it was the only conceivable reaction to madness, they burst out laughing.

“This is the part where we're supposed to find a whole potful of gems and gold, and everybody lives happily ever after,” Tyler said, which made them laugh even harder.

“Here's your cam,” Lawrence said when he was all laughed out. He handed the GoPro to Tyler; it must have fallen out of his hand when he tripped and ended up in the creek, but the waterproof casing had saved it. The Maglite, sadly, had drowned.

Tyler scrambled to his feet, his clothes heavy and cold and dripping with creek water, his wet hair sticking to his forehead in strands. His teeth started chattering and there was nothing he could do to stop them. “What the f-f-fuck was that?” he stammered inarticulately.

Lawrence shook his head. “I didn't see anything.”

They gazed at each other and uttered a hollow laugh, but quickly stopped. Indecisive and shivering uncontrollably all over, Tyler just stood there on the lawn. To his amazement, he saw that the red light on the GoPro was still on. The tough little sucker had filmed the entire thing.

Astonished, he turned it off.

*   *   *

TYLER CAN'T BRING
himself to look at the footage until two days later.

He inserts the GoPro memory card into his MacBook and stares at the screen with glassy, dazed eyes. Things have changed: His muddy clothes, reeking of creek water, now smell of laundry detergent and are nicely folded in his closet. Katherine has changed, too. She hasn't been doing her disappearing trick for a few days now because she's apparently walking around with a large shopping bag containing a dead peacock (this has not quite escaped Tyler's attention, despite the state he's in) and appears to be rather attached to it. At the moment she's a little farther up in the woods behind his house, but Tyler hasn't gone to take a peek. He's had enough of the witch, enough of shooting doc. Besides, the woods are still closed off to hikers; there are fences everywhere and there are volunteers from HEX dressed as State Reserve park rangers at the trailhead.

The clip lasts twelve minutes and forty-four seconds, and because of its sheer size, Tyler puts the file on his external hard drive.

Then he looks at the images and sees something terrifying.

He hits
PAUSE
and stares at it, lost in thought.

Suddenly there's frantic pounding on the back door downstairs. Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, he looks up. He remembers that he's home alone. In a reflex that comes from being a video blogger he snatches the memory card from the USB drive, sticks it in the GoPro, and puts the cam in his pocket. He rushes down the stairs, to what will be the last and most shocking report from his career as a journalist.

It's Lawrence who's pounding on the door. As soon as Tyler opens it, Lawrence drags him out by the arm. “Come with me,
now,
” he says. “We've got to stop them.”

“What…” Tyler begins, then thinks,
Jaydon
. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows. They run to the backyard gate and down the path to the creek, and it's like a video being played backward: They're right where Tyler fell into the creek a few nights before. It takes three seconds to take stock of the situation and to grasp how serious it is, how completely and indisputably fucked up it is. Instinctively, he takes the GoPro out of his pocket and starts shooting.

The images are shaky, but images don't lie. A hundred yards to the left near Deep Hollow Road are the fences, abandoned by the volunteers. The camera sweeps to the other side and we see who the volunteers are: Jaydon, Justin, and Burak, in heavy boots and State Reserve uniforms.
Those sons of bitches have offered their services and Grim has fallen for it,
Tyler thinks. Staggering in their midst is Katherine, unnaturally bent as if her spinal column had been broken, and they're driving her forward the way you drive cattle, using broomsticks with the heads torn off. Judging from how the witch is moving, she's in a panic. Her sewn-up mouth is a crooked grimace of horror and she's desperately clutching the charred peacock feathers that are sticking out of her—
This is unreal,
Tyler thinks—Market & Deli shopping bag. She keeps trying to turn away and walk off, but they roughly push her back. Jaydon beats her with his broomstick and her body doubles over, forcing her to walk the other way. Why she's so attached to that stupid peacock is a mystery to Tyler, but she is; desperately, she puts up with the abuse rather than vanish and have to leave her shopping bag behind.

Then the images blur; we see pink spots from Tyler's fingers since he's holding the GoPro out of sight, we hear running footsteps, we see the jolting forest floor. We also see splintered fragments of a security cam that's been knocked out of a tree: no room for subtlety this time.

“Oh Jesus stop!” Tyler shouts in one breath. “Leave her alone!”

“Mind your own fucking business. Stay and watch or get the fuck out of here.”

“Don't make it any worse than it is. You can still stop this thing!”

“She killed your dog. You should be grateful. Everybody just stands by and watches, but at least we're doing something. Walk, whore!” A new blow and the witch sways on her feet, trying to keep her balance.

Stumbling. Khaki fatigues, suddenly very close. Sky spinning. Sewn-shut eyes and rapid, desperate steps in jangling chains. Hands grasping shoulders. A broom handle sweeping through the air like a whip; Jaydon means serious business. Tyler shrinks back and we see grass, we see the streambed, we see desperate faces overhead. Again Lawrence and Tyler jump forward and there's fighting, there's cursing. Then Lawrence is struck by a sickening blow from a stick and he hits his forehead against one of the boulders in the creek. Panting, Tyler turns him over and we see a deep cut in pale skin and dark hair smeared with blood.

“Lawrence, you all right?”

“No. Stop them.”

Burak looks down at them, hesitating, stick in his hand. “Bastard!” Tyler roars as he helps Lawrence up, and Burak runs back to the others.

Just when Tyler sees what they're up to, the images reveal it as well, and we hear the smothered cry from Tyler's throat, more animal than human. They've driven the witch to the lower reaches of the creek. Farther on we see the hole of the tank that once collected the creek water from the culvert running under Deep Hollow Road but is no longer in use. The hole is a little less than a square yard, and the metal plate that normally covers it, overrun with mold, is now lying on the nearby bank.

For the last time Tyler sprints up to them, screaming for them not to do it, to stop while they still can, but it's too late. The wildly shaking images show Jaydon giving the witch a vicious push with his stick and her falling helplessly into the tank. It's not deep; she knocks her head against the concrete edge and her attackers roar, her attackers gather rocks, her attackers stone the witch. Tyler sees it all; he sees how two sharp rocks hit her face at the same time and split it open, he sees how her headscarf is torn off and he sees blood and he sees more rocks. He vomits on the ground as Katherine finally gives in. The smell of burning shopping-bag plastic rises as she disappears. And still rocks are bouncing and tumbling, now against the concrete sides of the empty tank.

“He's got a fucking camera!” someone bellows. A new rock whizzes in Tyler's direction and he ducks just in time to avoid it. In a flash we see Jaydon's face coming toward us, a mask of pure psychopathic rage, the kind of face that screams at you to run if you want to live and tell the tale, and that's just what Tyler and Lawrence do. Their salvation is that they're so close to home; if this drama had taken place farther into the woods, they easily would have been caught. But here there are more cameras, here there are people who might be home, and the chase is called off. Yet Tyler, unaware of this, slams the back door so hard behind him that the pane rattles in its frame, and he turns both latches before he and Lawrence fall to their knees on the kitchen floor and burst into tears.

But now they're not crying like the little boys they still were until two nights ago; this is the crying of boys who have just become adults because of events that are too big for them to bear on their own. And while they're crying, the image goes black.

 

SEVENTEEN

LATER THE SAME
afternoon Steve suggested they go get the horses and settle them back in their own stable, but Jocelyn's face clouded over at the idea.

“I don't know, Steve. I don't have a good feeling about it, so close to the creek and the woods and all.… How can we know if it's safe?” She looked outdoors through the new window. The air in the dining room was still heavy with the smell of fresh paint from the retouched window frame, but the fragrance of Jocelyn's vegetarian quiche in the oven was slowly taking over.

Steve shrugged. “
We
stayed here, didn't we? Nothing happened to us.”

“Yes, but it's different with people,” Matt said, as simple as that. He laid down his pen on top of his homework. “I don't want Nuala to end up hanging from a tree, too, Dad.”