Beneath the Veil Page 3

  “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

  Jen’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

  “We 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.

  “That’s some strange shit,” Jackson said.

  “It is,” Barry answered.

  They left the cemetery and started up the mountain road. The trees pulsed with life as the world around them changed with the rising sun.

  “How much further do you think it is, Barry?”

  Barry stopped walking when he heard the drone of an engine in the distance.

  “Jackson, someone’s coming.”

  He ran to the side of the road and hid behind an oak tree while Jackson climbed behind a stone wall. An old pickup truck appeared around a bend. The truck was a faded green color with its flatbed filled with stones. Two men sat with their legs dangling from the back of the truck. Both men held shotguns. Inside the cab were three more men. The truck rumbled past them, leaving a trail of dust along the dirt road.

  “Barry, are they gone?” Jackson whispered.

  Suddenly, the truck came to a stop and then reversed.

  “Shit,” Barry said. “Jackson, get down!”

  Jackson threw himself to the ground. The truck pulled to a stop in front of the cemetery and the men climbed out. Barry chanced a look and saw the men douse the ground with gasoline. They lit the fuel and watched as the strawberry vines burned and black smoke filled the air. The men then got back into the truck and drove away as the cemetery burned.

  “Jackson?” Barry called out.

  “They gone?” Jackson asked.

  “Yes,” Barry answered, then stood and walked back to the road. Jackson met him there, picking smashed apples out of his pockets.

  “Who do you think they were?” Jackson asked.

  “Not sure,” he answered.

  “Do you think they are the ones that took Jen?” Jackson asked.

  “Maybe. We can follow their tracks and see where they went,” Ba
rry answered. “And figure out if they have her.”

  They walked the rest of the day passing dozens of crumbing farmhouses and barns. They stopped at a few of the houses looking for help, but soon realized they were all abandoned long ago.

  C H A P T E R F I F T E E N

  Jen sat, cold and hungry, huddled on the wooden chair. She sensed it was daytime but no light reached the cell. Using her lighter, she systematically examined the room trying to understand the details of her cage. Once, some years ago, she photographed a prison and her black and white pictures captured the unyielding force of the cells. The stone walls of this cell were rough and irregular in size with small holes in the corners of the floor. On the lower half of the walls were scratched messages and pleas for help. She read through the messages, the last words of the hopeless, then leaned back against the wall fighting the terror she felt rising up inside her.

  She stood up and calmed herself, refusing to allow the fear to take hold again. She examined the wooden door, its bottom half was covered with dents and scratches made by the condemned. A square opening was cut at eye level and covered by an iron grate and beyond it a stone hallway.

  “Hello,” she called through the opening. Her voice echoed down the empty corridor.

  “Is anyone there?”

  The hallway was silent until she heard a small voice speak.

  “Quiet, please be quiet,” someone whispered.

  “Who’s out there?”

  “Quiet. They will hear you and come back,” the voice answered.

  Jen held the lighter up to the opening and a shadow crossed the hallway.

  “Come here, please,” Jen called out.

  “You have to be quiet,” the voice said, closer this time.

  Jen stood on the chair and trained the light through the opening.

  “Best be careful,” the voice said. “Old man Hockenberry fell off that chair and hung himself.

  Momma said he used to be a pastor, but wasn’t one anymore on account of what he had done.“

  “What’d he do?” Jen asked.

  “He joined the true religion.”

  “Can you open the door and let me out of here?” Jen asked.

  “I can’t, not till nighttime comes.”

  “Sure you can, Jen said. “It’s easy.”

  “Not for me, not anymore.”

  “What’s your name?” Jen asked.

  “Willow.”

  “Willow, my name’s Jen. I am real cold and hungry and need to get out of here.”

  “You’re fixin to get the crop,” Willow whispered. She moved closer to the door. “They grow‘em in the graves.”

  “Please open the door and let me out of here, my friends are looking for me.”

  “I told you, I can’t. Not till nighttime comes.”

  Jen shined the lighter through the opening.

  “Come closer, I want to see you.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “I can’t see you.”

  “Most can’t till the nighttime comes. I can’t even see myself,” she said sadly. “Less I am near the creek.”

  Jen pulled a compact mirror out of her pocket and held it up to the opening. Willow’s ghastly image reflected in the mirror. She appeared to be a child of seven or eight years old, but had pallid skin and dark circles surrounding black eyes. Jen dropped the compact and it shattered on the stone floor.

  “How long you have been here, Willow?” Jen asked, voice shaking.

  “I came down to this cellar last night. The sun came up and I got stuck. I just wanted to see who they brought down here.”

  “How long have you been in this town?” Jen asked.

  “A long time, Momma signed the pledge on account of me being real sick.”

  “What pledge?” Jen asked.

  “The pledge to true faith,” Willow replied. “Momma said it made me better.”

  “I know it’s hard, but I need you to open the door.”

  “When the night comes I can open it, but that’s when the hunger comes and you shouldn’t be out when the hunger comes.”

  C H A P T E R S I X T E E N

  “Jackson, I see a place up ahead,” Barry said.

  They had located a path from the main road that led them to a vine covered cabin. As they approached the building, the last rays of sunlight glimmered through the trees.

  “Looks abandoned,” Barry said.

  “Yeah,” Jackson replied.

  They walked through a field of high grass and onto a crumbling porch. Symbols were carved into the wood around the front door.

  “These symbols are the same as the ones we saw on the rock face outside of town,” Barry said.

  “What do you think they are?” Jackson answered.

  “Some type of superstition, maybe protection against evil,” Barry answered.

  He examined the carvings in the dying light of the sun. The channels cut into the wood timbers were smooth and even. Jackson cleared vines away from the front door and gave it a push. The door opened inward revealing a stone fireplace and rough handmade furnishings. The ceiling was high with beams running across the width of the room. Dim light filtered through the distorted glass of a single window.

  “Jackson, I noticed a fig tree out back when we walked up. Could you pick us some to eat?”

  “Sure, I’m starving,” he answered.

  “I’ll get a fire going,” Barry said. “I think we’re far enough off the road to be noticed.”

  Barry walked outside to gather wood for the fireplace. A sliver of moonlight illuminated the forest where green trees and golden sunlight had been replaced by a canvas of gray shadows. Once he collected an armload of wood, he carried it back in and placed it on the floor. He stood up and realized he felt good for the first time in months. Jackson returned through the front door with his arms full of fruit.

  “Got some good ones,” he said.

  He handed two figs to Barry and then started munching on his own. Once they finished their meager meal, they sat and watched the dancing flames of the fire.

  “Man, I am tired,” Jackson said, rubbing his lower back.

  “Go get some sleep,” Barry answered. “I’ll be up a while longer.”

  In the glow of the firelight, the cabin appeared almost homey. The dust covering the room was no longer visible and the tired walls were somehow renewed. Barry walked around the room. A photograph hung on the wall and a Winchester rifle was mounted above the fireplace.

  “Jackson,” Barry said.

  Jackson was slumped back in a chair already asleep. Barry walked into the kitchen and found an iron skillet next to a stack of plates. A shattered mirror hung on the wall.

  “None of this was here before,” he said.

  “Jackson,” Barry called out again.

  He walked over and shook Jackson’s shoulder, waking him.

  “What’s up?” Jackson said.

  “Someone’s been here,” he answered.

  Jackson looked around at the change in the cabin then stood up quickly knocking the chair backwards onto the floor.

  “Who is there?” a voice asked from the bedroom.

  Barry pulled the rifle down and backed towards the front door with Jackson beside him. A man and a woman emerged from a darkened bedroom doorway. An ember popped in the fireplace, causing Jackson to stumble backwards into the wall. Barry raised the rifle and pointed it at the couple.

  “What do you want from us?” he asked.

  “From us?” the man asked. “You are in my house.”

  “We made a mistake, we don’t want any trouble,” Jackson responded.

  “Son, it ain’t about what you want,” he answered.

  The man stepped forward into the light of the fire, his eyes where white and ringed with red. pallid skin hung loosely from his boney frame. He smiled revealing a jagged line of broken yellow teeth, then sniffed the air and licked his lips. Barry pulled the trigger as the man stepped towards them, but the rifle wouldn’t fire. He tr
ied again, then threw it at him. Jackson flung open the front door then ran out and tumbled down the steps. Barry followed him out and pulled him to his feet. The man and woman were out the door and almost on them. Barry and Jackson ran as fast as they could, stopping only when they reached the main road.

  “Are they gone?” Jackson asked, gasping for air.

  “I think so,” Barry answered.

  “What were those things?” Jackson asked.

  “Not sure,” Barry said. “But we need to find Jen and get the hell out of here.”

  Barry tapped Jackson’s shoulder and pointed to a cemetery where a group of men dug into the ground with picks and shovels. He stepped back into the shadows and motioned for Jackson to follow.

  “Looks like they’re planting something,” Barry said.

  “We better get off this road. We might be spotted,” Jackson said.

  C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N

  Jen sat against the wall with her knees pulled up to her chest and her head down. She hadn’t slept since getting captured. A door opened somewhere above, followed by the sound of footsteps and muffled voices. The steps came closer and she heard Willow’s voice.

  “Please, leave her,” the girl pleaded.

  Jen pressed her back against the corner of the cell and listened then something hit the outside of the door with tremendous force.

  “Jen, he’s coming for you!” Willow shouted.

  Willow stood with her arms outstretched blocking the door. She was visible now having taken a physical form. A man dressed in rags walked towards her with his twisted mouth, exposing small jagged teeth. Nearly out of her mind with fear, Jen grabbed the chair and wedged it against the door. She heard chains drop to the floor and felt the door press inward. A sick gurgling sound came from the other side and then something impacted the door. Tears poured down her face as she held the chair in place with shaking hands. She heard rapid footsteps and then the door slammed inward, knocking her to the floor. She crawled to the corner of the room and tried to remain silent in the darkness. The gurgling sound stopped and the cell was quiet. She lit her lighter and found the man relishing the sight of her trapped in the corner.