Valley of the Scarecrow (7 page)

“Wow, Pops,” Pat said. “I’m actually impressed.”

“As you should be,” his dad answered, then laughed. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go get myself a cold beer. It’s been a long day.”

Everyone thanked Mr. Brannon for his help. And they meant it too. There was no way they would have found Miller’s Grove without his passion for geography and his knowledge of Iowa. Now at least they had a destination to shoot for. It still might turn out to be a dead end, or even if they did find the old settlement in the woods, it didn’t mean there would be any truth to the treasure
rumors but they were definitely headed in the right direction.

“Oh, wait a sec, Dad. We can borrow this map for a few days, right?” Pat asked, just as his father was exiting the room.

He poked his head back in, smiled, and said, “Sure…but first you’re all going to clean up this goddamned mess!”

For a time, there was only darkness.

Constant night. Oppressive, stifling darkness as hot as the inside of an oven but eventually cracks appear in the foundation walls and some of the floorboards sag and collapse. Between the gaps in the wood and stone some indirect sunlight finds its way into the space, and through the gloom a large room is revealed.

An old church.

Row after row of empty pews waiting for the congregation’s arrival, but nobody comes here anymore and nothing sits on the once-polished oak seats except for an inch-thick layer of dust. No one is sitting down and no one is standing in the aisles but that doesn’t mean the sanctuary is empty. Up on the raised altar, the room’s only inhabitant hangs high on the wall, a macabre parody of Christ on Calvary. He was a normal man once, but that was ages ago and time has been less than kind. His body and muscles have withered, emaciated from the heavy ropes and forced bondage. His skin has hardened, mummified paper-thin from the years spent in insufferable heat.

A terrible way to die; or should have been anyway, but in this unholy place death is only a fading dream and what hangs on the cross isn’t dead. Nor is he alive. An abomination trapped in the shadowy realm that exists somewhere between. He breathes, he listens, he waits.

Rage is what keeps him sentient. Unbridled fury.

And hunger.

Decades on the cross have left the beast famished, his teeth often gnashing together in his torturous slumber, tearing out the throats of his enemies over and over again in endless dark dreams filled with gore and spectacular violence.

Then suddenly he awakens, a thin stream of blood spilling down his pale chin as he opens his large haunted eyes and begins to laugh. “I’m waiting for her, old man,” he says, licking his dry lips with a leathery gray tongue. “Can’t wait to see how she tastes!”

The man-creature on the cross begins to thrash and scream, pulling and twisting with all his considerable might to break free from the bindings that hold him tied to the wooden beams. He yanks and tears with an unworldly strength, savagely ripping his own desiccated skin but not caring in the least, intent on nothing else but freedom.

“You hear me, coward?”

Malcolm Tucker woke up screaming in bed, his tired eighty-four-year-old heart doing cartwheels inside of his aching chest. He instantly realized he was safe in his bed at Lorimar House but that knowledge brought no comfort, as for several minutes he was convinced he was having a heart attack. At his age it was a distinct possibility and twice he came close to pushing the panic button beside his bed that would immediately summon the nurses and orderlies. Both times though, he rode out the pain, taking deep breaths and willing his body to settle down and not abandon him yet. He wasn’t scared of dying and had made his peace with the Lord a long time ago; he simply wasn’t ready to go yet. There were still so many things he wanted to do with his life, such as it was. Surely this wasn’t going to be the way he checked out—alone and wearing the same dirty pair of pajamas his granddaughter had scolded him about wearing a few days ago.

“Kelly,” he whispered in the dark, still massaging his chest with an open palm, but finally starting to feel the steel bands around his ribs loosening their grip, allowing him to breathe a little easier. Saying a quick prayer of thanks, he lay back down and concentrated on taking long, slow breaths until he was sure he felt back in control and relatively safe attempting to move around.

It might be foolish trying to get out of bed to go to the bathroom this soon after having bad chest pains, but Malcolm had always been stubborn like that. Besides, he needed to go pee. What was he supposed to do, wet the bed when a perfectly good toilet was less than ten feet away? Not likely. He swung his skinny legs off the side of the bed and gingerly set them down on the cool floor. He cautiously stood up and being fairly confident he wasn’t about to keel over, shuffled off to the bathroom to do his business.

In truth, he didn’t really have to go pee that bad. Certainly not urgently. He was just stalling for time, not yet ready to think about the horrible dream he’d just had or whether he could trust his granddaughter to keep her word that she’d never go after Joshua Miller’s treasure. After washing his hands and returning to bed, Malcolm was sure of two things: One, he’d never had such a vivid, terrifying dream as that in his whole life, and two, Kelly had lied to him. And why wouldn’t she? If he were young and full of piss and vinegar like she was, he’d go after the treasure too. The ravings of a silly old man and the ghost story of a fallen reverend wouldn’t be enough to keep him away from fortune and fame. Not a chance.

Kelly didn’t know Miller’s Grove the way he did, didn’t have a clue what wickedness Joshua Miller had brought to their village. She was far too young to know about good and evil, heaven and hell, and the cruel ways the Man in
Black could corrupt a good man’s soul. Malcolm thought again about the dream, about Joshua Miller lashed onto his cross and transformed into some hideous long-haired beast out for revenge. Silliness, of course, but that didn’t mean Kelly wouldn’t be in danger if she went off on a wild-goose chase into the woods. His father Angus had always told him, “If someone goes looking for trouble, they usually find it.” Malcolm agreed. Reverend Miller was dead and gone but Miller’s Grove was still a terrible, cursed place and he didn’t want Kelly going anywhere near there.

“Maybe I best call her in the morning…just to check in.”

Satisfied, or at least as satisfied as his conscience allowed, he lay back down and tried to get back to sleep, but rest was a long time coming. Malcolm tossed and turned, his mind full of horrible bloody images not just from his recent dream but drawn from a lifetime of guilty nightmares—all of them leading back one way or another to Reverend Miller and the doomed village he’d grown up in. No matter how many years went by, or how long he lived, there was no way he’d ever manage to escape Miller’s Grove. No one who’d been there ever would. Just ask the poor man who’d just been found sealed inside the theater wall. He’d known the fear Malcolm was feeling tonight. That’s what young people like Kelly would never understand. Unless they’d been there before, they couldn’t possibly comprehend that Miller’s Grove left its malevolent mark on a person. Malcolm was tainted forevermore, a black stain on his soul that would follow him to the grave, and perhaps beyond.

By 6:00
A.M.
Malcolm gave up and went out to the kitchen to make himself a strong cup of coffee. He couldn’t seem to get Kelly out of his mind this morning and knowing
he’d drive himself batty all day if he didn’t do something about it, he decided he’d give her a call. If nothing else, he could hear her voice and know she was okay. She’d probably call him a silly old fool for worrying about her, but that would be okay. Being a fool was something he was used to.

Malcolm forced himself to at least wait until 8:00
A.M.
before picking up the phone though. There was no need to wake the whole house just because he’d had a bad dream. Someone answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” a female voice said. It was Kelly’s mother, Janice, a woman Malcolm didn’t get along with very well. Why his son had ever married her in the first place still amazed Malcolm every time they met. She’d tried to have him put into a nursing home two years ago just because it was a few hundred dollars a month cheaper than the assisted-living center he lived in now. He’d never forgiven her for that, and likely never would.

“Ahh, yes Janice, it’s Malcolm. Is Kelly up and at it yet? I need to speak to her if you don’t mind.”

“Oh hi, old-timer,” Janice said, her words cheery but somehow falling flat and losing their humor. “You missed her. Kelly’s already gone. She left about—”

“Gone! What do you mean, gone? Where?”

“Camping, I guess. Her and some of her friends said they’re gonna take off for a few days out in the woods. Said she’d be back by Friday. Why, what do you need?”

Sweet mother of God!
Malcolm thought.
She can’t be going to the Grove already, can she? She doesn’t even know where to look…does she?

“Malcolm? You there? Everything okay?”

“I’m here. And yeah, everything is fine. Did Kelly say where she was camping?”

“No, not really. I didn’t ask. All I know is she’s meeting
her buddies over at Rich and Lizzy’s place and they’re gonna take off from there around nine.”

Malcolm checked the clock on the wall. It read 8:06. There was still time.

“Do you know the address there, Janice?”

“Yeah, but what’s going on? Just call her cell phone, Dad. Is something wrong? You’re acting kind of weird.”

“I told you, everything’s fine, now give me the damn address. I wanna talk to her face-to-face and don’t have time to sit here and yap with you all day.”

There was a big frustrated sigh on the other end of the line, and just as Malcolm was about to start screaming, Janice was back on the line with the information he needed. “Okay, here you go. The address book says 115 Stadler Avenue. That’s just off Riverside. You know where that—”

Malcolm had hung up. He needed to call a taxi and rude or not, he didn’t want to waste any more time talking to Janice. She didn’t like him anyway. She could just add this to her list of complaints she had with him. It didn’t matter to him in the least. All he cared about was Kelly at the moment. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

Rich’s Ford Taurus was jammed full of camping gear from front to back, so much so it was going to be nearly impossible to fit all five of the passengers inside the car. Dan had joked that they might have to strap Pat onto the roof of the car to make the ride more comfortable, and it would have been a funny joke if Pat had been there to hear it. It was 8:40
A.M.
and although the rest of the gang was packed, present, and ready to roll half an hour ago, there was still no sign of Pat.

“Where the heck is he?” Kelly asked, starting to
worry. Pat was a world-class slacker but it wasn’t like him to be late. Disappear early or wander away from things when he got bored, sure, but he was usually the first in line at the start of the day, camera bag on his arm and ready to go. “Anyone talk to him this morning yet? He might have slept in.”

“No, he’s up and coming,” Dan said. “He called and told me he’d be a little late. Said he had a surprise to show us.”

“What kind of surprise?” Lizzy asked, her hair dyed jet-black today with streaks of red in it but still managing to ask a typical Blonde question.

“If we knew that, kiddo, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise now, would it?”

“I guess not. Well, whatever it is, he better hurry up. The bus is leaving in less than twenty minutes.”

Pat made it with ten minutes to spare, squealing to a stop out front in his father’s black Chevy Malibu. It didn’t take long for everyone to guess what his surprise was going to be, because she stepped out of the passenger-side door and went over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Whoever she was, she was younger than the rest of them, maybe not even twenty, and she was dressed more like she was going out on the prowl than someone off on a camping trip. She was a pretty blonde squeezed into a white wool sweater and tight denim jeans. Her skin was ghostly pale and at first glance she looked as delicate as a flower, but when she walked it was with purpose, swinging her hips with both the power and grace of an athlete. She was the kind of woman people noticed; especially the men in the crowd.

“Who in the hell is that?” Kelly asked. “What’s she doing here?”

“What in the hell is that, is a better question…and why hasn’t she been here before?” Rich said with a grin, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Liz.

“Keep it up, funny guy,” Lizzy said. “See what it gets you. Or
doesn’t get you,
to be more precise.”

“Sorry, sweets. You know her, Dan?”

“Ah, no. Not really. Think I’ve seen her around though.”

“I’ll bet you have,” Kelly said, and try as she might to make it a joke, she couldn’t keep the hint of jealousy and hurt out of her voice. The others might have missed it, but Dan certainly got the message loud and clear. He shot her a look that said, “Don’t go there, okay?” and she held her hands up in a calming motion saying she understood. Funny how even after a few months apart, they could still communicate so well without ever having to talk.

Dan kissed Kelly on the hand and went to help Pat with his bags. On the outside he kept his cool, but inside he was ready to explode, having been totally blindsided by the unexpected appearance of Kim Jacob. Kim was the blonde bombshell Pat had brought with him, and although he’d told everyone he didn’t know her, that hadn’t exactly been totally honest. The truth was he knew Kim quite well, had secretly dated her a couple of times in the last month when he’d lost all hope of getting Kelly back. He’d never slept with her, thank God, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying on Kim’s part. She’d been all over Dan from the first time they’d met and for a while it had felt good getting all that attention from such a beautiful woman, but the more he got to know her the less he liked being around her. She was bossy and arrogant and had too big of a mouth. Dan had shut down their relationship in a hurry, but Kim had still continued to call and chase him around town whenever she could.

Dan had no idea when she’d met Pat or why she was here today, but a lead weight was forming around his heart as he walked toward the new arrivals. Surely her being here wasn’t a coincidence. She had to be here because of him, didn’t she? And if she was, that was sure going to screw up his plans of winning Kelly back on this trip. She’d been furious for him kissing Tracey at the bar. She’d go ballistic and dump his ass for good if she learned he’d been fooling around with this girl too. Dan didn’t want to lie to Kelly but there was no way he could tell her about this. He’d just have to lie low and hope she didn’t find out. This was the absolute last thing he needed today. He was under enough stress, what with the business going into the tank lately. He was seriously starting to wonder what he’d done to deserve all this recent chaos in his life.