Perfect Little Monsters and Other Stories Page 20

  “Pine Ridge isn't on the way to anywhere.”

  “I got lost.”

  “Where were you trying to get to?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Seattle?” Don smiles, before turning to the others. “Hear that? This guy reckons he was on his way to Seattle, and he got lost and ended up here?”

  “You're very lost,” one of the men points out.

  “Yeah, you're very lost,” Don continues, turning back to him. “Almost so lost, it's hard to really credit that it's true. Not that I'm calling you a liar, I'm just trying to get things straight in my head.” He pauses for a moment. “So you just happened to roll up in Pine Ridge on the same morning that this scream started?”

  “Bad timing, huh?” Roake replies.

  “Do you know anyone from here?”

  Roake shakes his head.

  “Do you know Jessica Barton?”

  “No.”

  “Someone took a photo down at the school,” Don continues. “We don't know who or when, but Bob Lazenby noticed it a few hours ago. Someone looks to have taken a photo and torn out the part with Jessie Barton on it. Do you know anything about that?”

  Roake shakes his head again.

  “You sure?”

  “I'm sure.”

  “So you've just spent your day wandering around town, doing nothing?”

  “Pretty much,” Roake tells him. “I figured while I was here, I'd stay a night or two and see the place. Not that it's too easy to concentrate, though, what with...”

  “The scream,” Don replies after a moment.

  “I went to the church,” Roake continues. “Is there no priest here?”

  “Father Michaels has been sick lately,” Don tells him. “He recently traveled to Austin to receive treatment. We're expecting him back next week.”

  “Another coincidence,” Roake replies.

  “They're sure mounting up.”

  Roake checks his watch again.

  “You seem a little agitated by the time,” Don continues. “Late for something? Waiting for something?”

  “It'll be dark soon,” Roake points out.

  “We all know that. Why do you keep looking at your watch?”

  “Am I being detained?” Roake asks. He waits for a reply, before getting to his feet. “I thought not. You're wasting your time talking to me. Like I said, I'm just a guy who happens to be passing through your town, and I'm very sorry that my visit has coincided with this... thing. But if you don't mind, I think I'd like to get going now. I appreciate your hospitality, but I'm taking up your valuable town. You should be out there, looking for this girl.”

  “I don't need you to tell me what I should be doing,” Don says darkly, finishing his whiskey.

  “But I'm free to go, aren't I?” Roake asks. He glances at the other men, before turning back to Don. “Well? Aren't I?”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Jason. Hey Jason, dude, are you okay?”

  Sitting up suddenly, Jason panics and turns, lashing out at the two guys from school who've stopped to help him. Filled with a sense of impending danger, he turns and looks around, only to find that he's on a street corner near the town square. Night has begun to fall, and the scream is still ringing out all around.

  “Jason?” one of the guys says. “Seriously, man... What's up? You're looking kinda pale.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Wait! Hold up!”

  Stopping on the sidewalk and looking over his shoulder, Roake sighs as he sees one of the other men from the bar hurrying toward him.

  “Listen -”

  “Doctor Matthew Kielty,” the man continues, holding out a hand. “I'm sorry I didn't say anything back there, I just... It's best to let Don Ridley feel like he's got his own way, instead of interrupting him.”

  Roake shakes his hand cautiously.

  “I might be wrong,” Matt continues, “but... I get the feeling that maybe you know a little more than you were letting on back there. I'm not accusing you of anything, but if you can help in any way, I hope Don Ridley's bluster hasn't scared you off.” He pauses for a moment. “Please,” he adds, “we're getting desperate. If this scream continues for much longer, I swear... I think we'll all lose our minds.”

  “I can't help,” Roake tells him. “Not...” He checks his watch. “It'll be dark soon.”

  “That won't make things any better.”

  “It might,” Roake continues. “It's easier to find him in the dark.”

  “Find who?”

  “Forget it. I don't know anything.”

  He turns to leave, but he stops when he feels a hand on his arm.

  “You know something,” Matt says firmly. “You can deny it all you like, but I know it's a lie. I'm not accusing you of being responsible for this thing, really I'm not, but I can tell you know something about what's really happening here. Please... Is it going to stop soon?”

  Roake pauses, before turning to him.

  “Please,” Matt continues, with tears in his eyes, “it's getting hard to even think straight.”

  “Do you...” Roake glances around, to make sure no-one else is listening, before stepping closer. “I'm going to say a name, and I want you to tell me if you've ever heard the name before, okay?” He pauses. “Chanciechaunie.”

  “Chancie...” Matt frowns. “Chancie... what?”

  “Chanciechaunie,” Roake says again. “That's one of its names, anyway. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I don't think it really matters one way or the other. I promise you, though, that it's no accident that I happen to be here today. I can't do anything until night falls, but once it's dark...”

  “You can help Jess?”

  “I can try.”

  “So something like this has happened before?”

  “I can't go into details.”

  “Where?”

  Roake pauses again. “Several places, over history. The most recent example I'm sure of was Amsterdam, in the Netherlands, but there are historical records of similar events in a number of European countries, plus Japan, Chile, Nigeria and a host of other places. This is the first confirmed incident in the United States, at least over the past two hundred years.”

  “Two hundred -” Matt stares at him for a moment. “You make this sound like... Like it's more than just a scream.”

  “I really need to get going,” Roake tells him. “I need to prepare.”

  “For what?”

  “For something that I should have done sooner. Something I should have done last time I was this close, back in...” His voice trails off for a moment, and then he checks his watch again. “I have a few hours before it'll be dark enough,” he mutters finally. “I've never gone into it before with anyone. The things I know have come from secret documents that exist only within the church, but... Is there somewhere we can talk? Somewhere more private?”

  “You can come to my office,” Matt tells him.

  “I can't tell you everything,” Roake continues. “Some of it is just too... I can tell you a little, though. Maybe it'll help. I can tell you the names of Chanciechaunie, and I can tell you what I'm going to try to do tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Did you find her?” Jason shouts, hurrying forward as soon as he sees Don emerging from the warehouse with a couple of other guys right behind. “Is she alright?”

  Stopping, Don sighs. “Jason, I don't know what you're trying to pull here -”

  “She's in there!” he shouts, looking toward the door. The scream is continuing, although this time it doesn't seem so close as the moment, a little while earlier, when he'd gone into the warehouse. It already seems to be dissipating again, denying attempts to pin it down. “I saw her,” he continues. “She's right inside.”

  “Jason,” Don continues, “if this is some kind of sick joke -”

  “I'll show you!” he hisses, pushing past and hurrying through the door. When he gets to the far side of the entrance area, he looks into the next room an
d sees, to his shock, that there's no sign of Jessica or the chair where she was sitting, or of the dark figure with the knives. “She...”

  He freezes, his mind spinning as he tries to work out what, exactly, just happened.

  “Now listen to me, kid,” Don says, stepping up behind him, “I appreciate that this is a difficult situation -”

  “I saw her!” he replies firmly, turning to him and immediately seeing the sense of disbelief in Don's eyes. “Do you think I'd lie about something like this?”

  “I think we're all under a lot of pressure,” Don says, as the scream continues to fill the air. “I think it's easy to get carried away and maybe start imagining things. Believe me, we're all right on the edge.”

  “She was right here,” Jason says, hurrying over to the spot where the chair was standing earlier. Looking down, he expects to see bloodstains or shards of bone, anything to prove that he's right, but the concrete floor is bare and clean. “I swear to God,” he stammers, “I swear on my life, she was right here, she was tied to a chair and there were...” He looks over at the far wall, but the benches are bare. “He was torturing her,” he continues. “He had all these knives and blades and...”

  His voice trails off as he remembers seeing the forked blade being driven into Jessica's chest.

  “Who are you talking about?” Don asks after a moment. “Did you get a look at his face?”

  “He was tall,” Jason replies, staring at the spot where the chair had stood when he was last in the room. “I didn't really see him properly, except his eyes and...” He pauses, feeling a shudder as he remembers the way the figure lifted him up. “He was looking at me,” he continues, “he... He was staring, he was looking into my soul. His hands were wet and warm, I think it was from her blood, and he was grinning like he was enjoying every moment. His skin was pale and cold, and..”

  “Have you seen the British priest who's in town?” Don asks.

  “It wasn't him.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “It wasn't him,” Jason says again. “It was... This guy's face was different, it was almost like...”

  He pauses again, before seeing that Don and the other men are watching him with expressions ranging from doubt to outright hostility.

  “I'm not lying!” he stammers. “You have to believe me!”

  “There's nothing here,” Don replies, clearly a little exasperated.

  “Then he moved her!”

  “To where?”

  “I don't know, but... Look at the floor! It's clean! This place has been empty for years, but someone's cleaned the floor in the last couple of hours!”

  “That doesn't prove anything.”

  “I saw Jessica! She was naked and tied to the chair, she was bleeding, she was cut and hurt...”

  “Naked, huh?” Don replies, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure your imagination hasn't been running away with you a little? Come on, kid, this is starting to feel real out of line. You're pushing my patience.”

  “I...” Pausing, he realizes that he has no proof. “Look at me,” he says finally. “I've got bruises on my neck and my head! Do you think I did that to myself?” He tries to think of something else that might make them believe him. “Wait, did you hear the scream stop for a moment earlier?”

  “Jason -”

  “It stopped!” he continues. “Just for a second, or just half a second, but it stopped when I was getting up behind her, and then it started again. Did you hear that?”

  “I...” Don pauses. “I don't think so, but even if I did, it doesn't prove anything.”

  “It proves I didn't imagine what happened!”

  “I'll tell you what I think,” Don replies, stepping over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think you should think very carefully about whether you want to continue with these ridiculous claims. I won't claim to speak for anyone else, but I personally consider this childish game to be in very bad taste. If Jessica is -”

  “She was here,” he says firmly.

  “If Jessica is in trouble,” Don continues, “then this kind of game only wastes our time. I don't know where she is, I don't know who has her, but I know one thing.” He looks across the bare room. “She sure as goddamn hell is not in here.”

  “I'm going to find her,” Jason replies, pulling away from him and heading to the door. “I found her before and I'll do it again!”

  “Whatever,” Don mutters, turning to the other men once Jason has left. “What do you think?” he asks them.

  “Dumb kid,” one of them replies. “I guess he thought he was being funny. Either that or he just wanted some attention.”

  “I dunno,” says Howard Cooper, “I think he believed what he was saying. Doesn't mean it was true, maybe he had some kinda mini breakdown, but I think he really thought it happened.”

  “Come on,” Don says, making his way to the door, “there's nothing here.” Reaching the street, he looks up at the night sky as the scream continues, filling the air all around them. “We have to find Jessica before this goddamn noise drives us all out of our minds.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “What are you doing?”

  Startled, Roake turns from his suitcase and sees Alice Chinnery watching him from the doorway.

  “Can you make it stop?” she asks. “The scream has been going all day. I hate it. Make it stop.”

  Roake checks his watch. “I'll try.”

  “What are you doing with those?” Alice asks, spotting the bible and wooden crucifix in his hands. “Are you going to pray?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And why are your hands shaking so much?”

  “I...” Roake stares down at his hands and tries to keep them still, but he can't.

  “Are you scared?”

  He turns to her. “Yes. Yes, I'm very scared.”

  “You're dressed differently,” she continues with a frown. “More like a proper priest.”

  He nods.

  “Are you going to talk to God about what's happening?” she asks.

  He shakes his head. “Not God, no.”

  “But you are going to talk to someone, aren't you?”

  “For all the good it'll do,” he whispers.

  “Are you going to fight someone?”

  He frowns. “Why do you ask that?”

  “Because you're scared.”

  After making his way over to her, he stops for a moment. “I suppose I am going to fight someone, yes.”

  “And are you going to win?”

  He pauses. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It's just not possible,” he tells her. “At least, I don't think it is. Better men have tried in the past, stronger men, and they didn't win, so I don't think I have any chance at all.”

  “Maybe you need to take some friends with you?”

  “No, I have to go alone.”

  “But if you know you're going to lose, then shouldn't you try something else instead?”

  He allows himself a faint smile. “Probably.”

  “If I was going to fight someone,” she continues, “and I knew I'd lose, I'd try to do something else. I'd try to be smart instead.”

  “That's a very good approach.”

  “So why don't you do that?”

  “I can't. It's complicated.”

  “But what's the point of fighting if you know you can't win?” she asks, refusing to let him get away with vague answers. “Isn't that the whole point of fighting? To try to win?”

  “Sometimes,” he replies, before crouching in front of her so that their faces are more or less on the same level. “Sometimes you have to fight for other reasons. Like tonight, for instance. I know...” His voice trails off for a moment. “I know I can't win, I know I can't stop him, but I still have to make my stand because... Because I have to believe, deep down, that in some way, when everything is totted up at the end in the great balance between good and evil, I have to believe that my effort wi
ll count for something. That evil things, wherever they are, need to know that they're opposed. And sometimes, maybe there'll be small victories that seem to come out of nowhere, little cracks of light in the darkness. Moments of hope.” He pauses again. “Besides, the alternative to fighting the evil is not fighting it, and I can't do that.”

  “Your hands are shaking more,” she points out.

  He smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

  She stares at him for a moment, before suddenly putting her arms around him and hugging him tight. “I think you're going to win,” she whispers into his ear. “Please win.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Oh God, please stop,” Donna sobs, sitting in the corner of her bedroom and slowly rocking back and forth. “Please stop, please, please, God...”

  Suddenly she hears a bumping sound from the next room. She waits, and a moment later she hears the sound of someone moving about. Getting to her feet, she goes to check.

  ***

  “What are you doing?” she asks thirty seconds later, standing in the doorway and watching as Doctor Matt Kielty puts some more medical supplies into a hold-all bag.

  “What do you think I'm doing?” he replies, not even looking over at her. “I'm getting ready.”

  “For what?”

  “For anything. For when they find her.”

  Pausing for a moment, Donna listens to the sound of the scream, which can still be heard from inside the storeroom at the surgery.

  “Do you think they will find her?” she asks finally, wiping tears from her eyes. “Alive, I mean.”

  “Right now,” he mutters, as he drops some more syringes into the bag, “I have no idea, but I have to be ready. If there's even a chance to help her, I have a duty to be prepared. After all this time, she most likely has very significant injuries, especially if someone's been...” He pauses. “Well, you know what I mean.”

  She watches for a few more seconds, as he places some small glass bottles in the bag.

  “It's been happening all day,” she reminds him, with a hint of tears in her eyes. “She's been screaming all day, Matt, and they still haven't found a damn thing. Everyone keeps saying they'll find her, but... Well, the longer it goes on, the harder it is to believe that it'll actually happen. I mean, it's barely possible that she's still alive.”