Chapter One
"Be mindful of the coming of
the dawn, for demons dance in the shadows."
Alewar, Darkness Defender
It
wasn’t the biggest or best park in the city, but it was close, and it had the
path that led down to the river. That was what drew Micah here. That path. It
was a beautiful and rugged trail which was rare in the city. It dropped away
from the rest of the park into a deep ravine and snaked through the woods. The hills
that rose sharply on both sides were covered with pine and birch and all kinds
of low brush. Once down at the bottom, if he was lucky enough to be all alone, Micah
felt like he was miles from any city street. Oh, he could still hear the
traffic if he allowed himself to; still look up and see jets that had just
taken off from the airport only a few miles from where he stood, but it truly
did not take a lot of imagination to believe he was far away from any of that.
There
was even a fierce little brook that raced along the left side of the path,
noisily falling over rocks and twigs, acting as much as it could like the big
river it would soon join. Micah wasn’t sure where the water came from, honestly
didn’t want to know, but he loved to hear it singing as it kept him company on
his treks. The windy path to the big waterway wasn’t all that long, maybe a
half mile, but it forked both right and left toward the end and meandered into
the forest to follow along the river itself.
Once,
Micah took the one to the left, upriver. And after a grueling, unexpected, two
hours he ended up in the parking lot of an Exxon fuel station. It had been okay
at the time, though. Micah hadn’t brought anything with him, and he had been
surprised at how long the path was. He was grateful to be able to get something
to drink. But he never took that path again. Once down in the river valley he
much preferred to pretend Exxon fuel stations did not even exist.
As
much as he loved the path, the quietness of it, how it seeped into his brain
and calmed him from the inside out, he also shivered at the sight of Black Sands
when he reached the river. An old abandoned energy plant, it sat there across
the water, dark and tall and mysterious. Its towers, the only structures
visible above the tree line, reached into the sky like sinister giant shadows. Micah
didn’t know much about it other than the rumors of it being haunted. Of course, there were rumors like that.
Who could look at the craggy stone turrets and not think it was a hot bed of
evil?
Except
Micah didn’t listen to such things, telling himself he didn’t believe in
ghosts. He liked to think it was because he was mature. Unfortunately, he couldn’t
deny, at least to himself, what he felt every time he gazed out across the
water at those towers. But he also felt a definite draw. Like something was staring
at him, beckoning him. It felt primitive, ancient. As if whatever was over
there had hold of his very soul. It honestly didn’t feel… bad. Just… odd. Maybe
uncomfortable. Whatever it was had his heart thrumming through his body making
him anxious. He could almost feel static power still pouring from it, pulsing
across the river in waves as if it were trying to reach him…
Nonsense,
of course.
However,
those feelings never prevented Micah from descending to that path, trekking all
the way to the river, braving his unease of Black Sands. Today was no different.
The river, the dark turrets, called to him. He looked forward to these walks, rare
now, always bringing his bottle of water, sometimes a snack. It depended on how
long he expected to stay. The times when no one was around, were the times he
loved best and stayed the longest. Oftentimes the people crowded the park and
even some of the upper path, where the playgrounds and picnic tables were. But
it seemed most did not want to venture all the way to the water. Maybe it was
because it did get a little spongy and wet in places. perhaps it was because
you did have to cross the little creek several times and sometimes it wasn’t as
easy as stepping over. The brook ran deep and wide in places and was very unforgiving
and surprisingly always cold.
Not
cool, cold.
Micah’s
friend, Bryon, who worked with him at Gunderson Products, said it was because
of Black Sands and all the evil that flowed out from it, chuckling when he said
it. Clearly, he was making fun of all the idiots who believed in that crap.
Except Micah had the feeling Bryon was also making fun of him because Micah did
not like to joke about the abandoned plant, feeling that doing so was
disrespectful of what had happened there. And what if such impertinence truly invited
evil? Bryon felt nothing of the solemn reverence Micah did when he saw the
silent turrets.
“The
place is dangerous, Micah. I’ll give you that. Why the city hasn’t torn down
the fucker, I have no idea. They need to before any more stupid-ass teenagers go
get themselves killed wandering around down there trying to scare up demons.”
Micah
had felt a hard shiver climb his back when Bryon said that. Yes, a teenager had
gotten himself killed. Accident or murder by ghost, was still up for debate in
Micah’s mind. And tempting fate by being flippant about someone dying… well,
Micah was just thankful they were nowhere near the river having that
discussion. Nowhere near the abandoned plant. Because “raising a demon” was what
Tom had said he was going to do.
Oh
yes, Micah’s big brother, Tom, had not only been a stupid-ass teenager, but a
fucking bully, besides.
Micah
had overheard Tom and his friends that long-ago night being crazy about
something. He had tiptoed to his brother’s room, drawn by all the “Can you believe it?” and “We fucking did it, man!” and “That was fucking awesome!”
“Shut
up, you idiots! You want to wake my old man? He’d tan my hide with a fucking
two-by-four if he found out we were anywhere near Black Sands.”
“But
it was so cool!” He recognized Rick’s voice as Micah slid along the wall to
squat on the floor near the partially open door.
“Cool?
Who are you kidding? You were scared, you moron.” That was Flip. Micah
never did know what his real name was. “You screamed like a fucking little girl!”
“I
did not!”
“I
said shut the fuck up, both of you! Now take a look.”
They
had all been to Black Sands? Tom and his two best friends had been to Black Sands?
Oh! That had been something Micah had wanted to do. But Micah followed rules.
Especially all the NO TRESSPASSING signs that surrounded the facility. Not that
he had been even brave enough to get that close. But there was a high fence
that prevented entry anyway.
Unless
you were able to cut a hole. Which evidently Micah’s brother and friends did.
Micah
had been so shocked he couldn’t move from his cramped position at Tom’s bedroom
door. Out of sight of the group, not that they would notice him, anyway, Micah
could only just see into the room through the gap in the door jam. They were
all gawking at something in Tom’s hand. Something he had brought back from Black
Sands.
“Is
that real blood?
“Course
it is, man.”
“It
ain’t the right color.”
“Blood
turns brown when it’s old.”
“Where’d
you get it?’
“From
the door, you moron. The one they all died behind.”
“Fuck,
that’s cool.”
“You
think the blood’s from that guy who tried to escape through the window in the
door?”
“Sure
as shit, man!”
“Oh,
fuck, man. Did you see how small that window was? A kid wouldn’t even fit!”
“Yeah,
well, when you’re trying to not get burned to death, you probably do about
anything.”
“Yeah,
well what I heard was the fucker was basically cut in half by all the
people in that room trying to get out of that door. My old man said they pushed
him through like he was an apple being cored.”
“Like
a fucking horror movie!”
Micah’s
legs had begun to cramp while his brother and his friends talked. But eventually
they ended up playing video games so, Micah slinked back to his own room. But
the next day Micah paid a visit to Tom’s room when his brother went to his
part-time job at the hardware store. He wanted to find out what it was that Tom
had brought back. Was it a human bone? Maybe it was a gross body part. Whatever
it was, evidently had blood on it and Micah wanted to see.
But
the only thing he found was a dull piece of glass. There were streaks of brown
on it but it sure as hell didn’t look like blood. He was just putting it back
when Tom walked in.
“Hey,
asshole. What the fuck are you doing digging through my shit?”
“No…”
Oh God. “Nothing, Tom. Just…” It was
too late, of course. Tom saw that he was holding the piece of glass.
“Just
being a fucking thief!”
“No,
Tom! I was putting it back…”
Micah
turned to lay the glass down, but Tom grabbed his hand before he could. “You
stealing my talisman?”
“No,
Tom, no! I…” He was crying at that point. Tom had tightened his grip and the
glass was cutting into Micah’s palm.
“You’re
a fucking thief! You know what they
do with fucking thieves, Micro? Do ya?”
Tom
always called Micah “Micro” because Micah was smaller than him. “I’m not
stealing, Tom, I swear! I just wanted to see it. I was putting it back!” But it
had been a waste of breath. Micah knew even back then; Tom was a psycho.
“They
cut off your hands, you little fucker!” Tom squeezed down hard on Micah’s hand.
He remembered feeling warm sticky liquid filling his palm and falling out onto
the carpet. He also remembered screaming from the pain. Finally, Tom had let him
go and Micah, hand dripping blood, dropped the glass and ran to the bathroom
down the hall.
But
before he had shut the door – well – slammed it, was more what he did, even got
in trouble for it later, was what Tom called out after him.
“Gonna
take this back to Black Sands, Micro. Now that your fresh blood is mixed with
the blood of the dead on this here piece of glass, gonna raise me up a demon!”
Micah never told anyone. He washed out the
deep cut, wrapped it with some gauze he found in the cabinet, and never said a
word.
Tom
went missing a week later. There were search parties and candlelight vigils and
neighbors who brought over hot dishes, all shaking their heads in pity. A few
days after Tom disappeared, a haunted Flip and Rick finally confessed that they
knew where Tom was. They led the police and paramedics to an elevator shaft at
Black Sands. Tom was dead at the bottom with a broken neck.
“We
were just messing around,” Flip had cried, his arms tight around himself.
“We
thought we heard something in there,” Rick pleaded. “They were screams. I
swear! Tom… he was going to… well, he went in there and was saying all that
stuff… chanting, is what he called it… they… they got Tom.”
“Who
got Tom?” The police officer demanded.
“The
demons,” both Flip and Rick whispered. Flip promptly threw up.
Micah
believed them.
Not
so much the adults.
It
was finally decided between all who “investigated” the death, Tom simply didn’t
see the opening and walked right over the edge.
“Kids
will be kids,” the sheriff had said shaking his head. “Seems they were performing
some kind of ritual and halfway through,” the sheriff shrugged. “the boy
tripped and fell. No foul play. We’re all just lucky we’re not burying three boys
today.” Then he made some loud promises about making the plant more
inaccessible which basically consisted of barbed wire on top of the fences.
Supposedly they fixed the part of the fence that had been cut, as well, and
that was it.
Whether
or not Tom had that piece of glass with him when he fell, they never said.
His
parents split up after that, with Micah’s mom leaving town. She asked if Micah
wanted to come with but seemed relieved when he declined. It wasn’t that
staying with his father was the lesser of two evils. It was just that he had
been almost through the torture that had been high school. Starting over in
some obscure tiny town had terrified him.
She
wrote a few times. The last letter he remembered getting had her marrying some
lumberjack up north. He never heard from her again.
Sigh.
All
ancient history.
But
today was Thursday. He was finally
off work and wasn’t going to think about any of that. Today he was going to
spend time letting the stress of the week wash away even though he caught
himself rubbing his scar. It had just been a tough few days at the job with his
foreman, Greg, riding his ass every chance he had, reminding him way too much of
his brother. Micah had no idea what it was he had to have done to piss the jerk
off, but he suffered nearly every day for it. This week’s case had a glitch in
the computers which filled the docks with wrong product and somehow that turned
into Micah’s fault. Yeah, Micah and his crew loaded the trucks with the
incorrect boxes. He probably should have recognized there was a problem since
there ended up being too many pallets and not enough trucks. Except it was too
late by that point. Why would they question what came to them from the pickers?
But that was not the way Greg saw it. It was never the way Greg saw it.
“You
need me to read the fucking orders to you, Micah? Words get too big and scary
for you? Need me to hold your hand back in the warehouse, teach you how to do
your job – again?”
Micah
learned early on you didn’t fight back or defend yourself, especially with
logic, because that only made it worse. It took two days to fix the glitch and
countless unpaid hours of backbreaking work to fix the orders.
“Unpaid?
You can’t do that!”
“Because
of this mess, we were fined and lost a crap load of money on all these shipments.
You want to keep your fucking job, Micah? It’s hanging by a thread. I honestly never
wanted you in this department, anyway, so I sure as hell won’t have any problem
making sure the entire blame is on your tiny shoulders. How the hell did
someone as small as you get a job in
this department in the first place? Should start calling you ‘Micro’.”
Oh God, Micro?
Where
did that come from? But images of his
brother laughing and pointing at him, then one horrible memory of him in his
coffin, had washed over him making him catch his breath.
And
nauseous.
No.
Just…
no.
He
was not going to think about Tom. Nor
would he think about the fact he needed that fucking job. And small? He wasn’t small! Since when was five seven
small? Just because nearly all the rest of the department were fucking giants,
didn’t mean Micah was small. But he
wasn’t going to let the memory of turning red with anger, balling his fists and
wishing to hell he could tell the
asshole, Greg, what he really thought of him mess up his night.
Tonight,
he was going to follow the singing brook down to the clearing at the edge of
the water. He would breathe in the cool night air, smelling that aroma that he
only associated with the Kressan River and gaze up at the towers and just feel. If he was lucky, he would catch
sight of the doe and fawn that had recently taken up residence there, maybe sit
at the edge and watch the minnows and be silent.
Micah had such trouble just being silent.
But
the second he pulled into the parking lot he was disappointed. It was full to
capacity. No surprise, though, for a beautiful Thursday evening. It didn’t
really matter. He simply parked on the street. However, all the people milling
around probably meant he would not be alone on the path tonight. Maybe not even
down by the water. He would still try it, but irritation rose in him as he made
his way across the park. It wasn’t just busy, it was packed. Looked like it was
some sort of art show.
Micah
quickly made his way to the opening in the gate. Then, on his descent, he
nearly took out an old man who seemed to step right in his way. Cursing under
his breath he grabbed the old man’s arm and somehow prevented him from falling.
“Hey.
Sorry. Didn’t see you.”
Micah
let go and stepped to the side, trying to allow the old man room to pass. Then
he turned, intending to continue down the path. But after making some quick unintelligible
mutterings, the old man latched onto Micah with a surprisingly firm grip and whirled
Micah back around. Shocked, Micah stared into the stern wrinkly face.
“Whoa
there, old man. What is it?” Micah was willing to see if there was a problem,
but he was not going let the old man feign injury, especially after Micah
realized he wasn’t all that small. His clothes were as wrinkled as his face,
though, making Micah think there was a possibility the guy was homeless. There
was an odd smell, too, of which Micah just caught a whiff. Micah had only been
near a decaying dead body once, and this was what he thought it smelled like.
The
old guy just stared at him, like he was searching for something on Micah’s face.
His eyes were a deep brown but not the kind that were warm. They were dull, seemingly
lifeless and it made a chill run up Micah’s neck as he repeated his question. “What’s
the matter? What do you want?” Fuck. He hoped it wasn’t money. That was
something Micah had too little of himself.
The
old man’s answer was to touch Micah’s cheek with a gnarled finger. Micah
flinched at the touch of his pointy, yellow fingernail, but for some reason he
couldn’t recoil away. He was caught by the old man’s dead-looking eyes and held
fast. He couldn’t even blink.
“What
the fuck?” Micah whispered. He meant to shout it out loud, meant for it to
shock not only the old man but himself as well, something to break whatever
spell this old fart had over him. Who in their right mind would stand and allow
a complete stranger to stroke his face? But Micah still couldn’t move as that
finger traced the hollow of his cheek. That was when he noticed all the sounds
of the park had faded away. All the people, all the movement, everything was
gone and there was just him and the creepy old man. Then those creased, wrinkled
lips began to mutter, spital forming at the edges of his mouth. The sound of his
mumbling voice, almost a chant, reverberated through Micah’s nerves, scaring
him right to the bone. He wanted to pull away, he wanted to run away, but all he could do was stand
there, his gaze locked with the old man’s, not being able to stop that cold crooked
finger from caressing his face.
Then
something seemed to crawl right into his brain. He felt it. Like a liquid
spreading through his veins that was cold and hot and… sparkly at the same time.
It was also when the wrinkles on the man’s face seemed to disappear and the
eyes brighten as well. The aura surrounding them became static, as if searching
for a connection. Micah felt just the slightest pull toward the old man… well,
maybe not so old… If Micah didn’t know
better, and he didn’t, the guy appeared to be shocked as well. Literally. An
arc of electric power surged between them. The confusion on his face was more
than evident. “How did you… what just…”
Then
suddenly a kid knocked into the both of them and ran by yelling, another kid in
hot pursuit, and the enchantment was shattered. Micah was mercifully returned
to the crowded park.
Micah
leaped back from the strange man and drew in a breath as if he hadn’t been able
to the whole time he had been in the old man’s grip. Old man? Yeah. The
wrinkles and the dull, dead eyes were back. But that was when he realized he was
breathing heavily as if he had just run very far, very fast, his heart beating
crazily. His scar was throbbing as well. Badly. He stared at the old man who at
first was shaking his head but then glanced up and laughed, throwing his head
back as if he had just heard the joke of the year. He walked away then, waddled
actually, still laughing, and disappeared into the crowd at the top of the path.
Micah stared after him, watched for his figure to weave in and out of the
people on his way to wherever he was going, but once he disappeared Micah never
saw him again.
He
wasn’t surprised.
He
didn’t go to the river that night. He went home. Fast. He got behind his door
and locked it and took the time to close all his drapes. He sat on the couch
then, trying to calm his heart before it came out of his chest.
What
happened?
What
the fuck just happened?
He
spent a fitful night dreaming disturbing things he thankfully couldn’t remember.
But they filled his brain, making him nervous. In the morning, even the shower
did not wake him up. By time he left for work he had had at least a half a pot
of coffee and he felt no better. He could still feel the old man’s touch on his
cheek, like a permanent mark. He could still hear the sound of his voice as if
something ancient called out to him. It wouldn’t have been so bad, no worse
than a night with a bit too much to drink. Except for the fact he hadn’t drank
a drop and he knew that everything had changed.
Everything.
Maybe
he should call in sick.
He
made his way out to his car, pushing aside the hoard of what he now called his
“decorative grass” on his way to his car. He glanced at it. The odd pods that
had appeared a few days ago had bloomed into a white velvet-like flower at the
top. Covering a good part of his front yard and reaching around the side, his
neighbors commented they were “pretty” and “odd”. To the point one of them
suggested calling a botanist or something to identify it. Honestly, he didn’t
care that much. Mainly because two years ago, when he had first moved in, he
had done everything he could to actually get rid of it.
Clearly
he had failed.
That
was of course when he glanced at the traffic, already backed up on his street. Damn it. He had forgotten about the
construction that had started this morning on the freeway. There was a major entrance
to the interstate at the end of his boulevard, and this is what always resulted
whenever there was an accident or lane closures for whatever reason. Today,
they were starting a short-term project that would actually close both the
entrance and exit for the remainder of the weekend. He had meant to get up
early so he could get out before it started. But he forgot. Now he was going to
be late for work. He took out his cell to call to inform Greg, knowing full
well his day was now shot to hell. Greg was never going to allow this as an
excuse, and he was going to be paying for it the rest of the day.
He
glanced over at the school bus stop, loaded with children, just across the
street from his house while he waited for someone to answer the phone. Appeared
they would be late too. His gaze wondered to a little girl who was standing
apart from the rest.
Huh.
Strange.
The
group of kids was something to focus on since he was faced in that direction,
not that he was staring at them or anything. He was used to seeing them since
this was the same time he left every day. But he had never noticed the little
girl before. Micah huffed. Stupid. She simply drew that half attention since
she was standing apart, that’s all. However, her blond curls, pink dress and
what appeared to be a heavy neon green backpack did make her stand out. Maybe
she was new to the area.
But
then, as if she knew he was watching her, she turned her face toward him. Micah
thought she was maybe eleven and she was quite pretty, if a little kid could be
pretty, but in a cold sort of way. Shivers ran up his spine as Micah met her
glare. She was all the way across the street, but he could still see her stare.
She cocked her head as if surprised or confused. But then she smiled and it
wasn’t innocent. It was more like those twins at the end of the hallway in The
Shining. Flat-out… creepy. It was the only way he could describe it. Not at
all what he felt in the old man’s presence. Her eyes pierced him. And
then, while he stood there, the phone still ringing in his ear, waiting for
someone to pick up, her face changed. It contorted into something other than
human; something dark, scaly, bubbling.
What the fuck?
He
fully expected the children around her to start screaming and running but they
didn’t. They never even noticed. They continued their conversations, their
pushing and shoving. Were they not seeing what he was seeing? Was what he was
seeing even possible? She continued to stand to the side, away from the other
kids, all by herself, her face a mess of boiling flesh with wet and shining
eyes still boring a hole right through him.
The
school bus arrived and obscured her from view and when it pulled gradually away,
she was, of course, gone.
When
the scheduler answered, Micah told him he was sick. Very sick. Because he
really wanted to faint. He wanted to throw up.
He wanted to fucking kill the old man who
had evidently cursed him.
