Beneath the Veil (3 page)

“Give me a little space, will you, Jackson?” Barry said over his shoulder.

He cranked the metal rod and the engine came to life.

“It’s a hand crank. Better than AAA,” Barry said.

“No shit?” Jackson asked, still holding his dead phone.

Jen was busy snapping pictures with an antique Nikon she fished out of her bag, using the headlights of the truck for light.

“Jen? Almost ready?” Barry asked.

“Yes. I got what I needed,” she replied.

Walking back towards the truck, she spotted a faded metal sign covered with vines.

“Auraria, 1832,” she read aloud. “Hey guys, look at this.”

Barry and Jackson walked over and looked at the sign.

“I guess we’re here?” Jackson asked.

“Let’s keep driving,” Barry said. “There must be a town of some sort.”

They got into the truck and pulled back onto the road. The headlights struggled to cut through the mist hovering above the ground. Forty minutes later, Barry slowed and pulled to the side of the road.

“We must have missed something,” he said.

“There’s nothing to miss here except trees and dark,” Jen replied.

C H A P T E R  T E N

T
hey continued driving until the dim glow of a town came into view in a valley below them. They drove closer until they reached a narrow street lined with clapboard buildings.

“Look at that,” Jackson said.

A rusted metal sign hung in front of an old general store, but time and weather had made it unreadable. The buildings in the town were lit with gas lamps and candles burned in their windows.

“I guess this is it,” Barry said.

“You were born here?” Jen asked.

“Yes, I believe so.”

Barry pulled over and parked in front of a grey building with a balcony. A sign on the building read Graham Hotel. He got out of the truck and walked up to the hotel. Jen and Jackson followed him to the front door, which was covered with scratches. Jen peered through a window and a face appeared behind the distorted glass.

“What the hell,” she said jumping back.

“What happened?” Jackson asked.

“Nothing, I just saw somebody in the window,” she answered.

Jackson lit his lighter and held it up to the window. Inside, was a parlor room with a grandfather clock along the wall.

“Need a room?” a voice spoke close behind them.

“Holy shit,” Jackson said, dropping his lighter.

A woman stood behind them on the porch with only her silhouette visible.

“Blasphemers are not welcome here,” the woman hissed.

“Oh, sorry,” Jackson replied.

“Sorry is what you’ll be,” the woman said in a low voice.

“Ma’am, we are looking for a room. Do you have anything available?” Barry asked.

“I do,” she answered. “Just the one.”

The woman turned and walked into the hotel lobby, leaving the front doors open and a sour smell in the air.

“What the hell was that?” Jen asked.

“I am not sure this is such a good idea,” Jackson added.

“Grab your stuff guys, we can’t sleep out here tonight,” Barry said.

He walked into the lobby and disappeared from view. Jackson stepped off the porch, opened the rear door of the truck and grabbed two bags. Moments later, Barry returned holding a brass key on a braided cord.

He held the key up to a gas lamp hung on the outside wall of the hotel. “Room seven,” he said.

“Where’d that woman go?” Jackson asked.

“Don’t know. There’s no sign of her, she just left the key on the front desk,” Barry answered.

The light from a candelabra flickered shadows across ancient furnishings. The air in the parlor was stale as if it had gone undisturbed for some time. They approached a narrow staircase covered with frayed carpeting. Its wooden railing was covered with deep gashes and carved with symbols. Barry tried not to touch it as he climbed the stairs.

“Where are the lights in this place?” Jen asked.

“I doubt there are any,” Barry answered. “I haven’t seen any sign of electricity in this town, no electric or phone lines anywhere.”

“Great,” she said.

She pulled a silver lighter from her pocket and lit it. They continued to the end of the hallway and up another short staircase. When they reached the room, Jen held the lighter so Barry could find the keyhole. Inside, the room was stark, containing only a single bed and a rocking chair. Before they could get inside, the door across the hallway flew open and a man in long underwear stared out at Jackson.

“Jesus,” Jackson said. “You scared the hell out of me.”

The man glared from the shadows then slammed the door shut. Jackson stumbled into their room and locked the door behind them.

“Damn,” Jackson said. “This place is creeping me out!”

C H A P T E R  E L E V E N

B
arry awoke with a start and stared up at a ruined ceiling. The room around him was lined with peeling wallpaper and broken windows. He kicked off the crumbling remains of a blanket and climbed off the floor. Jen and Jackson were still asleep on a mattress blackened with mold.

“Jen, get up,” Barry said shaking his sister’s shoulder.

“What’s up?” she replied in a groggy voice.

“Get up, get out of there,” he said, recoiling at the sight of the bed.

He pulled her up and then grabbed Jackson.

“Jackson move!” Barry said.

Jackson climbed out of the bed and looked around the room, disoriented.

“What the hell?” he asked.

“This place is fucked. We need to get out of here,” Jen answered.

She stared around the room as if waking into a nightmare.

“Let’s go,” Barry said.

They ran into the hallway where sunlight shined through gaping holes in the roof. The hotel was abandoned and a section of the staircase had collapsed. Barry navigated the remaining steps until he reached the bottom with his sister close behind. When Jackson was halfway down the staircase, a board gave way and he fell through.

“Jackson!” Jen screamed.

“Stay back,” Barry said, pulling her away from the hole.

“I’m okay!” Jackson called up from below.

“Where are you?” Jen called out.

“I am in some kind of a basement.”

“Hold on, Jackson,” Barry called down to him.

Barry walked around the hotel searching for a way into the basement. The entire building had decayed while they slept, the front desk was a crumbled husk and the lobby was filled with broken furniture and spider webs.

“Is anyone here?” he called out.

Suddenly Jackson came bounding through the front doors of the hotel. Jen rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“No worries,” he said. “I climbed out a window.”

“I want out of this place, now,” Jen said.

Barry grabbed their bags and followed them out into the street. The town was deserted and overgrown with weeds, with its buildings in various stages of decay. They loaded the truck and then sped off in search of the highway. Behind the hotel was a cemetery, with grapevines covering its wrought iron fence and stalks of corn growing between grave markers.

“Pretty freaky,” Jen said. “How does corn grow in a graveyard?”

“I don’t know and I don’t intend to find out,” Jackson replied.

Barry drove away from the town with any hope of finding his family gone.

C H A P T E R  T W E L V E

“B
arry, something’s not right,” Jen said.

“I know. We should have hit the highway by now,” he answered. “I was sure this was the road out.”

“It’s cool. We must have missed a turn,” Jackson said.

Barry slowed when they came upon the symbol covered wall they passed on the drive into town. An orange haze streaked across the sky and wind blew bending tall grasses along the road. A single rain drop hit the windshield followed by another. Moments later, the sky opened up and a hard rain poured down. Barry flipped on his headlights and pushed on, slowing periodically to avoid muddy ruts in the road. After driving thirty miles, he pulled over and slapped his hand on the dashboard. A few yards away, rain poured down the stone wall and trickled into the channels of the carved symbols.

“Dammit. You’ve got to be kidding,” he exclaimed. “How the hell did we end up back here?”

“We must have gotten turned around,” Jackson said. “Try going the other way.”

Barry put the truck in gear and glanced at the fuel gauge. He had a half a tank of gas left. The staccato sound of rain drops hitting the roof grew louder as the ferocity of the storm increased. Behind them, a hillside collapsed and washed mud and debris across the road.

“Damn, did you see that?” Jackson yelled from the back seat. “Road’s blocked back there.”

Black clouds eclipsed the late day sun and the sky turned slate grey. Barry rolled forward, fighting to keep the windshield clear as he navigated the flooded road.

“Look, a farm,” Jen said.

Jackson wiped his window with the sleeve of his shirt then looked out. An old cemetery built on a hillside teemed with stalks of corn and other crops.

“That’s not a farm, it’s a graveyard,” he said.

“I think we should get off this road,” Jen said.

“I agree,” Jackson said. “Something’s really wrong around here.”

“Okay,” Barry answered. “I’ll take the next turn.”

They turned and drove down a road surrounded by dense trees and then crossed a single lane bridge. Barry glanced at his wristwatch and noticed the hands had stopped.

“Barry, can you pull over?” Jen asked. “I’ve gotta pee.”

“Sure,” he answered.

He pulled off the side of the road where towering trees darkened as nightfall descended upon them. Jen stepped into a misty rain and then walked into the woods. Jackson climbed from the cramped back seat and stretched.

“What time do you have?” Barry asked.

“Not sure. My phone’s dead,” Jackson answered.

“Mine too,” Barry answered.

Jen started to walk back to the truck and was grabbed from behind. She managed to scream before a hand covered her mouth. Jackson and Barry ran into the woods to look for her.

“Jen!” Jackson screamed into the black woods.

The only sound was the pulsing chirp of cicadas.

“She couldn’t have gone far, let’s spread out and sweep the area,” Barry said.

“Jen!” Jackson called out again.

“Jackson, do you hear that?” Barry asked.

In the distance, car doors slammed and an engine revved. They ran back to the road and found the Rover missing.

C H A P T E R  T H I R T E E N

J
en’s hands and feet were tied with thorny vines and any movement caused excruciating pain. Gagged and blind folded, she never saw who grabbed her. She tried to focus on any sound or detail that might help her later, but panic threatened to overwhelm her. After a long series of turns and inclines, the Rover lurched to a stop. Without a word, her captors left the truck. Blood ran down her wrists and ankles as she lay unable to move. Suddenly, the back door swung open and she was rolled out onto the ground landing squarely on her back. Someone grabbed her feet and dragged her down a set of steps, leaving her alone in a damp cell where the air smelled of rot.

Jen reached up and pulled the gag from her mouth and pulled down her blindfold. The vines binding her wrists had loosened, she was able to twist her hands free and untie her feet. She pulled a lighter from her pocket and lit it. The cell was made from blocks of stone sealed with rough mortar and contained only a single wooden chair. A small opening in the door revealed a stone tunnel just outside. She blew out the lighter and stood in the dark with tears welling up in her eyes.

C H A P T E R  F O U R T E E N

“W
e need to move,” Barry said.

“Where to?” Jackson asked.

“Up the mountain.”

The two men walked to the crest of a hill but found no sign of Jen or the Rover. Barry felt a headache coming on from the exertion, but his medication was lost with the truck.

“There,” Barry said, stopping to catch his breath.

Dim lights flickered in distant black mountains.

“It must be them,” Jackson answered. “We need to get up there.”

They continued walking until they reached an abandoned farm where a tattered scarecrow presided over a field of unharvested corn. Rusted farm equipment was scattered throughout the grounds and an old tractor sat half buried in mud.

“You okay?” Jackson asked.

“I’m fine,” Barry answered, but he wasn’t fine at all. After walking most of the night, he was nearing collapse.

They approached another dilapidated farm. A pitchfork stood in a weed choked field with a tattered hat still hanging from its handle.

“What’s up with these places?” Jackson asked.

“Not sure,” Barry answered. “I’ve counted a dozen cars and trucks all from the 1920’s.”

“Maybe they fell on hard times,” Jackson said. “The Depression and all.”

“Doubtful,” Barry said. “I think it was something else.”

When they reached the mountain, orange strands of light gleamed through the mist covered fields. Barry stopped to examine the ground.

“Tire tracks, he said. “I just put new tires on the Rover. They came this way.”

“Barry, why don’t we sit for a few minutes? You don’t look too good.”

“Maybe we can get a drink,” he answered, pointing to a creek.

Sunlight moved across a golden field, chasing the night away. Barry kneeled and splashed water on his face. Flecks of mica shined on the bottom of the rocky creek bed. Jackson finished a third apple from a tree he discovered near the road.

“Better go, Jackson,” Barry said.

Jackson stood with the pockets of his cargo pants bulging with fruit.

“Got some for later,” he said patting his pocket.

The two men walked back to the road where Barry stopped and picked up a piece of branch. He trimmed off the leaves and used it as a walking stick.

“Might come in handy,” Barry said.

Jackson reached down and found his own stick. He looked it over and then swung it hard against a tree trunk.

“Yes, this will come in handy,” Jackson said. “When we find Jen.”

They walked to a point where a valley unfolded below them in a sea of green. The sun emerged from behind the mountain, illuminating a primitive cemetery overgrown with strawberries. They walked past bent iron gates into the graveyard to a jagged row of crumbling head stones. Fresh mounds of soil lined the ground and a breeze blew a sickeningly sweet fragrance through the air. A shovel stuck out of one of the graves and plump, overly ripe strawberries hung all around it.